The suite was actually a villa, set apart from the others on the top of a hill, made of little ochre walls and glass partitions that flooded the three thousand square feet with light. The infinity edge swimming pool skimmed the southern façade, extending into an enclave designed to cool the bedroom, where an immense bed, right on the floor, was level with the water. Spare furnishings in black wood created an illusion of separate rooms—living room, study, open-air dining room. Tall exotic plants stood out against the empty space, the indoor ornamental pond, and the terrace. On the northern façade, beyond the flower garden, a cubic construction of openwork wooden slats did not seem to have any particular purpose; it could be a play area for children, or a canopy battered by sun and rain, or even a purely decorative modern sculpture. A narrow path of teak planks led down a gentle slope to the main building of the hotel and the everyday bustle of tourists and servants. From there, one had access to a white sand beach covered in deck chairs, parasols, changing cabins, and bars.
