FEATURE F EATURE
Ò The ambition and passion are unsurpassed. Are the economic foundations of this fantasy island solid?Ó
the forward planning in which the Zil operatives had immersed themselves. He would need to contact London and, at some point, kill this man – a sad, if necessary, part of the Double 0’s vocation. But all this talk of freshly grown vegetables had piqued Bond’s gnawing appetite. He knew his priorities. Now, if they could just rustle up some perfectly grilled, just-caught fish…
After a lunch of delicious barbecued okra and grilled fish, we are led towards a jetty. The island of Praslin - some 15 minutes away by boat – is, after Mahé, the most developed location in the archipelago. Here is the home of the Coco De Mer (Lodoicea maldivica), a wondrous nut, if ever there was one. A huge, native fruit born of a totally unique life cycle, it’s an oversized simulacrum of ladies’ parts and considering its gigantism and complicated sexual dynamics, must surely rank as the most fascinating of the region’s monospecific endemic palms. Well, that’s my opinion, anyway.
Our destination is Constance Hotels’ Lémuria Resort, a pleasing 5 star assemblage of colonial-style villas, twinned with high end restaurants and spas on the island’s west coast. Its primary source of interest
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isn’t the native three-piece synth combo, who gamely belt out Michael Jackson covers. Though, they are worth a look.
The hotel boasts a hugely impressive 18-hole golf course. Placed amidst the drama of Praslin’s granite and palm-dotted topography, looking for all the world like a theatrical backdrop, it presents a fearsome challenge to any golfer. It will make for a perfect morning for any of Zil Pasyon’s resident golfers. Maintaining the exclusive quality, Zil’s chopper will land at the 15th hole and be ready to whisk any tired (or frustrated and strung-out) player, back to Félicité for lunch.
Bond stood next to the beautiful, petite Indonesian hotel representative on the crest of the hill, surveying the shimmering sea and the far off islands. To their right was a treacherous looking sand bunker. ‘That’s where we’ll make love’, thought Bond. She looked up at him with deep chocolate, imploring eyes. ‘Sometimes, I come up here to chill out and de-stress,’ she sighed. ‘You what?! You live on an island paradise. Try attempting to get to the Piccadilly Line at Kings Cross on a Monday morning…’ She smiles at me.
THE -ELEVATOR.COM THE -ELEVATOR.COM
RIGHT: ONCE
FINISHED, THE CRAB-LIKE STRUCTURES WILL BE TOPPED WITH BASALT, SO THAT THEY BLEND PERFECTLY WITH THE ISLANDÕ S NATURAL GRANITE
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