International travel: Mauritius

FIRST there is a massage that begins with yogic breathing and ends with reiki, then another that promises to detoxify the body and invigorate the soul (and, boy, I need both). Sandwiched between the two, I am metaphorically and quite literally miles away. Approximately 6,336 of them. That’s as the crow flies.

Earlier that day I had lain by the pool (a few select members of the Norwegian royal family were my lounger neighbours). Later, I will return to my room, where a bath will be overflowing with bubbles and rose petals, lit all around by candlelight.

The butler did it. His name’s Ali and he’s at my beck and call. He unpacks my suitcase, he marks the place in my book with a bookmark (perhaps the folded-down page offended his literary sensibilities) and brushes the powdery white sand from my Havaianas. He leaves me little inspiring messages in the evening: quotes from Winston Churchill (“Success consists of going from failure without loss of enthusiasm”) and Audrey Hepburn (“As you grow older you will discover you have two hands. One for helping yourself, the other for helping others”). Yet I hardly ever see him. His presence is so discreet, I sometimes think I might have dreamed him up.

It wouldn’t be surprising. I’ve endured a 1∫-hour flight from Edinburgh to London, a four-hour wait in Heathrow, followed by a 12-hour night flight to Mauritius. I should be tired and stressed. Coiled like a spring. Most holidays it takes a couple of days to wind down and relax, yet I could barely be more Zen. This, I’m told, is the Residence effect. I could get used to it.

The Residence is one of Mauritius’s most established hotels. Opened in 1998 and with architecture inspired by the island’s turn-of-the-century plantation houses, it’s all relaxed elegance with a hint of 1920s glamour. Its signature scent is ylang ylang, a flower that was brought to the island in the 18th century and is now synonymous with it. The hangers are infused with it; the pages on the brochure exude its scent; all the rooms and suites are bathed in it at night. Details. It’s the little things that count, you see. And I’m beginning to like the fact that I notice.

The spa was refurbished in September at a cost of ¤700,000, and the investment shows. It’s a tranquil haven of trickling water, smooth pebbles and cool tiling, where the therapists glide around soundlessly and gracefully in white, full-length gowns, but pack a punch when it comes to pounding out the knotted shoulders of too many months spent hunched over a keyboard in a draughty office.

Mauritius is an island measuring 1,800 sqaure metres and situated off the coast of Madagascar. It was held by the Dutch, French and English before becoming a republic in the late 1960s. As a result of those varied influences, and those of India, just a hop, skip and jump across the Indian Ocean, its culture and cuisine are a mix of colourful flavours. We dine on dishes such as pan-fried dorado in Thai curry-flavoured rice with coconut milk and bok-choy, crispy lamb with pineapple chutney, cassava chips and sweet potato fritters, and sea bream marinated with garam masala and cooked in a banana leaf. The desserts are works of art.

One night we eat outside, under the star-filled sky, and pick out the constellations. I think I spot the north star, until some clever clogs points out that, since we’re in the southern hemisphere, that’s highly unlikely.

This wonderful food is all washed down with copious amounts of the local rum, South African wine or, for the brave, tequila bang bang (it doesn’t take too much imagination to work out what this is).

Rum also plays a starring role as we take to the Indian Ocean on a catamaran trip to the south-eastern coast. We nab a prime spot on the bow’s netting, lay out our towels and then bask in the sunshine, only opening our eyes to top up on factor 30 or to accept another glass of the potent punch.

We drop anchor in the clear turquoise water for a spot of snorkelling – where the incredibly sociable fish come bobbing into our masks for a closer look. There are sea urchins and colourful coral and the kind of sealife one usually only sees in a Pixar film. But where’s Nemo?

When lunch comes, it’s a barbecue affair: chicken with something called love sauce (were the crew winding us up, I wonder now, naively) and salad. And more rum, of course. Then it’s back round the coast to discover more of this surprisingly green, diverse island. The occasional white cloud darts across the sky and rain threatens in the north, but the sea is never anything less than pure, clear, beg-you-to-dive-in crystal.

Later, we drive west, to the town of Terre Rouge, where the newest addition to the Patrick Mavros jewellery empire is taking shape. In an exotic atelier where silver macaque monkeys meet freshwater pearls, where families of elephants march across stacking rings and seahorses and starfish are crafted in 18ct gold, each piece is designed by Forbes Mavros, who learned his craft at Edinburgh College of Art. Even the brass door handle, which now has a mischievous monkey climbing up it, was found in one of the city’s antique shops. It’s a long way from home, but seems to fit as perfectly with the tropical surroundings as it in a Georgian townhouse. We covet the gems and pore over delivery notes for specially commissioned pieces in silver. One is destined for a certain J K Rowling ...

Then it’s back to the hotel, where the mile-long private beach is beckoning. Or maybe the pool, where the waiter is doing the rounds with fresh pineapple and watermelon. But we decide all this sloth and rum is bad for us, so schedule a yoga session. On the beach, of course, where the cool and constant east-coast breeze prevents us from ever overheating. Our instructor is knowledgeable and patient, and I discover a new passion for an activity I once thought tedious and dull.

I also try the hotel’s gym and sign up for a circuits class with a muscle-bound Mauritian. I feel rejuvenated and full of energy. Unfortunately, I suspect that none of this will feel quite the same when it’s transferred to a church hall back home in Leith.

• The Residence, Coastal Road, Belle Mare, Mauritius (00 230 401 88 88, www.theresidence.com/mauritius). Seven nights at half-board costs from £1,649 per person (two sharing) and includes private transfers and flights from London, travelling between 1 May and 30 September 2012 with Turquoise Holidays (01494 678400, www.turquoiseholidays.co.uk).

BMI (www.bmi.com) flies from Edinburgh to London Heathrow from £29 each way.

For transfers and tours, contact MauriTours (www.mauritours.net).

Book catamaran tours through Easterlies (www.easterlies-cruise-mauritius.com).

Atelier Patrick Mavros, Bhugeloo Building, Royal Road, Terre Rouge, Mauritius (00 230 249 1333, www.patrickmavros.com).