State of Reunion addressed

(Sunday Times Travel Magazine, Feb 2006)

Ah, the South of France. So relaxing, n'est-ce pas? Perhaps a lazy petit dejeuner as you gaze across volcanic cliff faces, lava flows and tropical seas. Impossible? Not at all. We're not in Cannes any more, Toto - the real South of France is an entire hemisphere away.

A speck as spicy and intense as an unexpected peppercorn, La Réunion is the southernmost departement of France, 500 miles east of Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. It’s one of the world’s last remaining colonial possessions, and has become something of a tropical home away from home for almost an entire nation, the French heading out in such numbers that you could almost believe there was some kind of country-wide timeshare arrangement.

It’s a small island in a large ocean, and with some decidedly high-profile neighbours: Mauritius and the Seychelles. Compared to the endless beaches of these big hitters, La Réunion is refreshing like a jungle waterfall. Although seemingly quite modest, the island could afford to be much more of a braggart, not least as its natural resources, combined with its history and character, mean that it’s a destination where very few holiday sacrifices need to be made, whether you’re a fan of the tropical, the continental, the Alpine or the Amazonian.

It’s a destination recipe that even on paper sounds like the stuff of a madman’s dreams. Parts of the coast feel like St Tropez has been relocated to New Zealand, with the location stylist picking up backdrops from Nepal and Brazil along the way. It’s an enchanting botanical hotpot, with beautifully tangled rainforests buffering the sandy coast, and awesome precipitous peaks framing the interior, tailor-made for the sun to rise over in the mornings.

For the simple-minded such as myself, it can be confusing at first. My first morning in the affluent seaside town of Boucan Canot, for example, often verged on the disconcerting. The traditional French breakfast of croissants and black coffee was intermittently punctuated by sticky wafts of jungle aromas such as ylang-ylang and vanilla, floating incongruously over my fellow guests’ copies of Le Monde.

A couple of hours later, pottering across one of the otherwise quite European beaches on the classy resort strip of the west coast, I had to keep checking over my shoulder to acclimatise myself to having the omnipresent rocky giants of the mountains oversee almost my every move.

In short, La Réunion has more tricks up its sleeve than David Blane trying to blag a first-class upgrade on Air France. The obvious question for Brits, though, is why should you venture even one air mile further than the near-perfect beaches of the Seychelles and Mauritius? To borrow an equally obvious answer from a more familiar French export – because you’re worth it.

Those neighbouring island destinations may appeal to a certain populist seam of holidaymakers, and whilst (yawn) dazzling beaches of the purest golden sands are all very well, is there really much more to them? If you’re not paddling in tropical seas whilst trying to reconcile random sensory experiences from at least four continents simultaneously, then you may as well be sitting in sandpit, frankly. I hear the Réunion tourist board are considering that as their next marketing slogan.

The dizzying patchwork of diversity is evident from your very arrival. A colourful heritage of seafaring hi-jinx and smuggling has created a pan-continental mix of European, African, Indian and Chinese cultural influences. The bijou capital, St Denis, has decorous Creole mansions and retro colonial office buildings shouldering churches, Buddhist temples and a mosque. On the street, crepe vendors compete with curry houses and noodle stands, the New and Old worlds so harmoniously tessellated here that at times, it’s hard to tell them apart.

Whilst the towns are remarkable in their own right, in terms of defining La Réunion it’s the mountains that dominate the place, their hulking slopes swathed in tropical greenery. In the mornings, the peaks sleep under an impenetrable grey duvet of cloud and mist, jutting through as the day progresses and slowly restating their looming presence. It is this terrain that gives the island its distinct character, in turn ensuring a cult following among the French, to whom it presents possibly the longest internal flight in the world.

Thanks to the 3,000 metres worth of gradient contained on an island just 2,500km in size, though, there’s something of a localised meteorological system that must be negotiated when heading out on sightseeing jaunts above sea level. Annoyingly, the exact shifts of the mist and fog on the mountains don’t adhere to a strict timetable, and it’s advisable to ask someone who knows before you charge headlong up the slopes to take that prize-winning photograph.

You wouldn’t think it was possible to completely lose huge obsidian mountainsides. Having searched fruitlessly at the wrong time of day after an ill-advised lie in, I can tell you that it really is, and there’s nothing wrong in garnering a bit of local knowledge before driving three hours to stare into dense, unforgiving fog for three minutes. Use some common sense and dodge the mists, however, and you will be rewarded with views that make you feel like you’ve just been mugged by a gang of panoramic postcards.

It’s all the result of a happy natural accident. La Réunion was once a vast volcano, collapsing to leave a pointedly jagged interior. Inland lie three huge natural amphitheatres, or 'cirques'. Mafate and Salazie are largely inaccessible and can be seen only by tenacious hikers and helicopter passengers. The third, Cilaos, has a small eponymous mountain town. You can drive up from the coast, though as I soon found out, a love of hairpin bends and an ability to ignore spectacular visual assaults around every one of them is a distinct advantage.

For the British, then, the island largely remains a novelty, and with just 0.1 per cent of incoming tourists being of British origin, it is apparently where Anglos fear to tread. The reasons for this are unclear. Although the language barrier could conceivably be a problem, we're quite happy to go to other places where French is spoken. France, for example.

La Réunion's reputation as purely a 'nature' destination - suitable for woolly-socked hikers and eagle-eyed twitchers - suggests accommodation options confined largely to Spartan mountain chalets. Hardly worth leaving your luxury Mauritian beachside villa for. In fact, a new breed of lodges makes it a much more seductive proposition. The island is also witnessing a wave of exceptional hotels, each positioned to show off the island’s hot spots.

For tourists who want their islands served with a healthy dollop of picture-book golden sands, the north-west coast presents a relatively familiar seaside air. Towns such as St-Giles-les-Bains, Boucan Canot and St Paul are traditional resorts, home to Gallic sunseekers bronzing themselves as they would on any of the neighbouring islands.

The beachside Saint Alexis hotel in Boucan Canot has been the seat of glamour on La Réunion since 1993. Its 60 rooms and suites are about as urban as a sand dune, but ooze seashore chic: all off-white colours, glazed tiles and bamboo furniture. They have accommodated the likes of Jacques Chirac and Princess Stephanie of Monaco, and a distinctly Tropezian clientele can be found observing the African carvings and striking prints on display beneath the angular wooden beams of the lobby.

Ingeniously, the hotel has ensured that all ground level rooms are technically next to the swimming pool. Guests flop with varying degrees of elegance from their terraces into mini canals which run around the entire outline of the main building. They then swim their way with watery decadence to the 400 square metre main pool. Aquatic exertion over, aperitifs are sipped looking out on the Indian Ocean at the beachside bar, glasses of pastis held outstretched in one hand as the other secures the barstool in the sand.

The dark rafters of the open-air restaurant sit directly above, meaning that you needn’t sacrifice watching the sunset if your appetite gets the better of you. Fellow diners sport deeply tanned complexions and pastel sweaters tossed around shoulders, the accessories of well heeled urbanites from 'la metropole', as those on La Réunion call mainland France. Gourmets can indulge their adventurous sides as each week the chef designs a "discovery" menu on a specific theme, 'le Decouverte' starting at 35 euros. I was intrigued to discover an innovative whiskey theme, with salmon in a delicate single malt marinade and calamari lasagne in a Scottish tomato sauce.

In contrast with the mature sophistication of the Saint Alexis, a short drive south, past dramatic overhangs and rock faces that tower above you on the coastal road, brings you to Les Villas du Lagon in La Saline-les-Bains. It is a sprawling but spotless self-contained mini-village, hugging the wetlands of the Hermitage beach and lagoon. Here, being en famille is de rigueur and the opulence of the estate is juxtaposed with the holiday camp atmosphere, the four-star facilities banishing any further comparison with Pontins. The design is contemporary Creole: rooms are framed by rich darkwood interiors whilst fragrant, oversized hibiscus and bougainvillea swathe the exterior.

Fresh faced young families wander across the well-manicured lawns, herb gardens and palm trees peppered around the 23 huge villa-style blocks that house 148 rooms. Excitable children trail snorkelling gear and kayaking equipment, flagging down the droid-like hotel golf buggies which are on hand for the weary. The watersports clubs on the reef, bike rental and volleyball absorb any energies not sapped by the enormous swimming pool, and though all these activities are familiar mainstays of holidays in la metropole, it's a far cry from camping down in the Dordogne.

There's a triage system of dining. Kids chow down on their Croque Monsieurs to the strains of the house band and karaoke in Le Pipangaille whilst Le Mangoustan serves typically French steaks and mainland staples. L'Orangine is a refined affair, and couples who have taken advantage of the hotel's babysitting service visibly decompress over duck carpaccio, crevette salads and a meander down the drinks menu. La Réunion may be half a world away, but the wines, and prices, are very much Old World, and you’ll pay as much for your Bordeaux here as in, well, Bordeaux.

Following the coast road further south, the scenery takes something of a turn. 'Le sud sauvage' – the Savage South – may sound unwelcoming, but this merely refers to the thick and wild vegetation. The tangled vines and flowering orchids are pinned back by innocuous lava flows which stretch down to the sea like huge black fingers. La Réunion is home to one of the world's most active, but thankfully safe, volcanoes, Piton de la Fournaise.

Hotel Domaine des Pierres sits in the plateau town of Pierrefonds, the gateway for the startlingly vertiginous climbs up to the smoking peak and a base for those intending to take a closer look at the volcanic crater. The 36 bungalows are billed as Creole-style, and huddle around the swimming pool. Each has a shady porch for lazing on and breathing in the sweet, geranium-scented tranquillity. Polished wooden bedrooms lead to sandstone bathrooms, and as you take a cooling shower, gummy tamarind trees poke up against the window slats, the landscaped monolithic boulders behind them hinting at some of the surprises on site.

Just beyond the entrance, for example, lies the mysterious Parc Exotica, with its giant, ornate iron gates. Predating the hotel, it was managed by Georges Ango before he decided to design and build the hotel, now attached to it, in 2003. It's a grand sideshow of astounding foliage, as if P T Barnum had opened up a sideline in horticulture.

Back at the main site, a gravel pathway leads up the dining rooms, beset on each side by startling, huge stone totems apparently discarded from the set of an Indiana Jones film. The Creole character of the hotel is typified in its hearty rustic menu. The aroma of the local dish of carri poulet (mild chicken curry) and boucane (smoked pork) wafts temptingly from the kitchens.

Romantic islanders will tell you over a rum punch that the ingredients of carri are symbolic of the harmonious relationship between La Réunion's diverse cultures, and it's hard to be cynical when the analogy tastes so good. Variations on this local rice dish always include ingredients from Asia, Africa and Europe, with beef, octopus, vanilla and nutmeg all used interchangeably.

Venturing further above sea level, Lodge Roche Tamarin, aka Village Nature, is an ecological hideaway in the burgeoning rainforest of the foothills around the town of La Possession in the north. The lodge opened in July 2001 after a year's meticulous construction. The Village is the brainchild of gamine eco-entrepreneur Eve Lechat, realised by architect partner Francois Naude, and built in solid wood with reverence for the land's natural contours.

Guests stay in one of 16 tropical chalets: robust wooden cabins built into the landscape from rugged timber frames of South African pine. Swaying, rickety walkways lead to covert doorways and satisfyingly creaky individual retreats. Each is possessed of a balcony on which ageing hippies can meditate with only the jungle wildlife to break the tranquillity. The four 'bungalows romance' each have a private outdoor whirlpool tub for midnight stargazing.

As the sun sets, guests appear like snouty woodland creatures from the dense forest, attracted by the light of the restaurant deck. Menus are read by flickering petroleum lamplight, the food a bohemian twist on local favourites such as the ubiquitous carri and French casseroles, all complemented by the natural perfumery of the surrounding eucalyptus trees.

Further inland, and higher still, is the mountain retreat of Cilaos. In common with the cirques of Mafate and Salazie, the original residents of Cilaos were escaped slaves and errant smugglers. In the 18th century, what was then called the Ile de Bourbon became the trading post du jour of the French East India Company. The island was renamed La Réunion after the French Revolution in 1848, the reunion in question being the that of some of the Second Republic's revolutionary factions.

Whereas the others proved uninhabitable over time, Cilaos developed into a thriving mountain community. The inaccessibility of the place is thankfully matched by the genuine beauty of the snaking approach road. Though it looks a short distance from the coast on the map, drastic variations in elevation and gradient make a mockery of this illusion.

La Tsilaosa is a new 'hotel de charme', a three-star B&B on the quiet Cilaos high street, renovated in 2002 by local businesswoman cum fearless mountaineer Sue Dijoux and her son, Charles. The wrought-iron balconies suggest a quaint New Orleans guesthouse, the 15 rooms replete with ceiling fans and ornate quilts, more suggestive of the Old South than the Southern Hemisphere.

Cilaos is encased by the surrounding slopes, commanding a skyline unchanged for millennia. Over breakfast in La Tsilaosa, hikers fuel up on pastries and ham cut from the bone by Sue's chatty grandparents. They dispense potent black coffee and a rousing crash course on traversing the locale that equips even the most casual walkers with a determined attitude. The world class hiking attracts a more cosmopolitan crowd, with Germans and Italians breaking the French monopoly.

After a hard day pitting yourself against the seductive but challenging trails, tired legs can be soothed and empty stomachs refilled at one of the small local taverns. A steaming bowl of moules can be complemented with a chilled glass of the locally produced vins de pays, Cilaos boasting the island’s only winery. And if all that exhilarating alpine scenery gets boring, remember that a short drive away, there’s always the lunar volcanic landscapes or the adventure-friendly rainforest.

Those content to lie on a beach all day on certain other islands we could name just don't know what they're missing.

(back to Arrivals)