he resort is perfect. I sleep in a cloudlike bed, waves lapping at the pillions of my overwater villa, then wake to the hardest decision of my day: infinity pool or turtle-studded ocean? I sashay barefoot to breakfast in a Camilla kaftan, drink champagne with my feet in the sand, cruise with dolphins and snorkel with manta rays. At the spa, I let my massage therapist buff and polish me for three hours straight before cycling back through manicured gardens to my room, the turquoise lagoon never out of sight.
