Hotel La Toubana, Guadeloupe

In the 1985 film The Trip to Bountiful, an old woman longs to return to her childhood home, a small Texas town called Bountiful. Unbeknownst to her, her memory of the place would be all that is left when she gets there, the town having been devastated by the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl. I had visited the island of Guadeloupe almost 25 years ago to the day and now I, too, was going back. My own beloved memories were like Carrie Watts’ in that movie and shortly before leaving I was reminded over and over of that story. I wondered what time had done to one of my favorite places.

I found my way to the Guadeloupe Islands years ago almost by accident. A friend and I had begun studying French and we thought a little vacation on a French Caribbean island would give us a chance to practice while discovering what the Caribbean lifestyle is all about. That meant long days of sun and surf on perfect white sand beaches and longer nights of wonderful French food and wine and well, you know what happens after food and wine. We had picked-up a brochure at the French tourist office of a hotel called La Toubana, perched high on a cliff above the turquoise and jade waters of the Caribbean, and adjacent to the neighboring Club Med on Plage Caravelle. The location just outside the picturesque fishing village of Sainte Anne was perfect for talking to the locals and the proximity to Club Med naturally got our minds racing for after-hours activities.  Our modest bungalow above the sea was a perfect setting and our beautiful days there were out of a dream, the memories embedded in both our minds. They say the Caribbean islands have the power to change a person forever and when you stir a little Euro-French attitude into the mix, it’s a heady potion to swallow.  We drank it up and returned with a scrapbook, a bottle of rhum agricole (to make their infamous ti punch back home) and a few jars of banana jam.

Here it was 25 years later and with some trepidation we were planning to return.  I should backtrack a bit and mention that we’d had the opportunity to revisit the French tourist office and lo and behold stashed in one of the sleeves was a new brochure for Hotel La Toubana.  Needless to say we were just a little bit intrigued. The property had expanded considerably, adding a fourth star, and it had carved out a petite private beach at the bottom of the hill, which had not existed the first time around. It had also christened 12 new master suites, 2 with private pools, on a bluff next to the original property along with 3 private villas and an infinity pool.  It was now an expansive place, landscaped to the nines, and the setting above the sea had not lost an iota of its former charm.

The 3 hour flight from Miami was painless and when we picked up the rental car “Chez Hertz” (as we had learned in our classes) we pretty much felt like we were somewhere in France – Renault or Citroen?  That’s just what we wanted to hear!  The 30 minute drive on the highway from the airport took a bit of concentration but after a few roundabouts we were straightaway approaching Sainte Anne. The car dragged up the long hill to the top and after several hairpin turns we at last spotted our target and pulled into the busy parking lot. The moment of truth approached.  How different would it all be and would we remember it the way we experienced it so long ago?

At first glance reception had benefited from a makeover.  The area was easily triple the size of before with an illuminated vitrine of French products offered for sale (just like in a real hotel in France) and a goldfish pond lining a covered boardwalk to the restaurant. We were easily besotted when the staff greeted us in both French and English and offered us the ubiquitous rum punch as all fine Caribbean lodgings do. I vividly recalled how the first time around the front desk spoke nary a word in English and now it was bilingual. In those first moments we felt as if we had again stepped foot on French soil but with the insouciance of the Caribbean. We sat in the alfresco lobby for a moment appreciating the intense island calm then were whisked away in a golf cart down the hill and up again through a massive black gate parting to reveal a rolling stretch of hills dotted with small villas. Rounding a curve we pulled up to ours, Suite 46. That‘s when things began to turn a bit magical. Nestled at the end of a row of semi-detached structures painted a rich blue-gray and with front lawns, shrubs and flower beds the “suite” was actually a townhouse with a long curving walkway leading to the front door. We could not believe our eyes when they met what was behind it … our Euro-Modern home away from home. And what a home it was.

The duplex interior was immense. A floating wood stairway with a banister of glass and steel suspension cables led to a second floor. Surprise there: a big bedroom with high cove ceilings, a private balcony overlooking the sea and an immense master bath with an open walk-in shower with not 1 but 2 louvered windows. It was like showering in the open air!  A bold painting of sailboats out to sea appropriately monopolized the room along with a high backed patterned chair in a corner that looked right out of Alice in Wonderland. It was a place to sit and reflect while appreciating the view.

The ground floor’s sunken quarters included a living room, fully loaded contemporary kitchenette with washer, dryer and Nespresso machine, a second bedroom and another super-sized bath. In the distance loomed a huge, private back yard with patio, deck and wraparound pool. Walking down into the space I was taken with a mammoth spider lamp presiding over the living room, an oversized wooden floor lamp topped with a big, saucy blood orange shade. It reminded me of one of those famous spider sculptures by the French sculptor Louise Bourgeois. In the seven days to come its diffused glow in the evening would create a special ambience as the tree frogs croaked, the crickets cackled and the wine flowed.

The rest of the furnishings throughout were obviously chosen with an artisanal eye, many of them hand-crafted, down to the freestanding bentwood ladder towel racks and garment racks in the super-sized baths. Some of the pieces looked commissioned and one of a kind, with one or more being conversation pieces like the tree trunk console table on the upstairs landing. Orange was defiantly the key accent color in the neutral space in the form of a trio of quirky three legged stools for impromptu company, another light fixture, this one a column of pleated fabric guarding the entry to the second floor sleeping chamber and several giant jacquard stitched pillows strewn about the surroundings. The quarters were open and light with plenty of space to stash and drop things, just what you need when you’re dashing around a Caribbean island.

Custom walnut sleep/work stations (because work is directly connected to sleep) with king sized beds, nifty pocket portholes and built in outlets and switches sat smack in the middle of the bedrooms, not pushed against the walls. And of course motorized shades ascended at the touch of a button to help you meet the day, be it from a balcony overlooking the sea, at the patio’s giant table or in the lap pool right outside the bedroom’s sliding doors.

It all made for a blissful idyll in paradise, and if, indeed, Guadeloupe is paradise then La Toubana takes credit for administering the joy that comes with time spent there. As the sun shone hot and bright day after day, the hours drifted by slowly and peacefully; we laughed alot, swam a lot, ate and drank a lot (this being France after all) and even sang alot thanks to Club Med Caravelle next door. The last night party’s closing medley opened with Blame it on the Boogie, segued to Earth, Wind & Fire’s Celebrate and Do You Remember, moved on to Grease’s Summer Lovin’ and the Pointers Sisters I’m So Excited, and peaked with Sweet Dreams and Wake Me Up Before You Go, Go. A story of passion was told in songs, in the way that only Club Med could do. You had to love it!

But even La Toubana’s motorized shades could not help us face that last day when it came time to actually wake up and go go ourselves.  We had fully settled into a Caribbean groove in our home away from home and no surprise to us (and probably to you, too, as you’re reading this) we had catalogued many more precious memories in our minds. And unlike poor Carrie Watts, our memories would remain alive because like fine wine, time had only made Guadeloupe better.

So, as I took one last look at everything around me that I marveled at from Day 1 and stole one last peak at the blue sea on the horizon, I made a promise. I would definitely not wait another 25 years to do it all over again.