St Martin surprised me in all the right ways. Split between French sophistication and Dutch energy, this dual-nation island has evolved into something far more interesting than its layover reputation suggests. The Dutch side is lively, Americanised, and unapologetically fun – casinos, nightlife and beach bars clustered around places like Philipsburg and Maho Village. The French side – where La Samanna sits – radiates a chic, culinary-driven elegance that feels more Riviera than Caribbean. Grand Case in particular lives up to its reputation as the gastronomic capital of the Caribbean, lined with culinarily confident and culturally layered restaurants that wouldn’t feel out of place in Paris. Marigot, meanwhile, with its colourful buildings clustered beneath the fort, café culture and daily market spilling over with local delicacies, is ideal for a slow morning of wandering.

With green hills, beautiful bays and an impressive underwater world, this is not an island that should be rushed. The sheer number of private villas – rivalled only by places like Mustique – helps explain the density of high-end dining and the overall polish of the experience. Even with just one night here, I knew I’d return. It’s vivacious, fascinating and quietly confident in what it offers.

La Samanna was, quite simply, a revelation. I expected a lovely resort; I didn’t expect this level of refinement, warmth and attention to detail. The first impression was a visual one – a sweep of turquoise sea framed by whitewashed, Mediterranean-style architecture – followed immediately by impeccable hospitality: chilled towels, Champagne, and genuine smiles that set the tone for the stay.

The phrase “Caribbean with European flair and Indian Ocean service” proves entirely accurate here. Caribbean warmth shows up in barefoot beach service and rum punch at sunset; European elegance in the interiors, dining and wine list; and Indian Ocean-level service in the anticipation of guests’ needs. Case in point? A casual mention of my love of mango resulted in the chef preparing a bespoke tasting plate for me the following morning, with a handwritten note explaining each variety.

Occupying a quiet residential stretch of coastline in Baie Longue, its beach is a pristine ribbon of white sand with calm swimming conditions and the best loungers I’ve encountered anywhere in the world – oversized, deeply cushioned, with adjustable shades and built-in tables – with beach staff refreshing towels and delivering chilled water without encouragement.

The property closes annually from late July to mid-November, reopening each season with renewed energy. All 76 rooms face the ocean and sunset, and range from compact 40-square-metre Deluxe Seaview Rooms in the main building – perfectly adequate for a night or two – to spacious and serene beachfront suites with direct sand access and private terraces framed by bougainvillea. Radiating that understated luxury La Samanna does so well, the beachfront suites are open but not cavernous and elegant without being fussy, with crisp whites, soft blues and natural textures framing the endless ocean views.

For those seeking complete privacy, eight individual three- or four-bedroom villas sit perched above the property and around five minutes from the beach. Named after tropical birds found on St Martin: Sucrier, Pelican, Colibri, Frigate, Tiaris, Sula, Egret, and Mouette, their interiors blend teak accents with Italian marble flooring and floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the space with light. Master bedrooms open onto panoramic terraces; bathrooms feature rain showers and spacious tubs; and all come with a wraparound terrace, private pool with sea views, an oversized kitchen, and dedicated service including roundtrip airport transfers, a personal host, daily breakfast either in-villa or at Corail Restaurant, complimentary laundry, and stocked minibars. A private chef can also be arranged.

Dining was a highlight throughout. At La Spiaggia, homemade lobster tagliolini delivered Cipriani-level finesse with Caribbean soul. L’Oursin’s grilled mahi-mahi, paired with citrus beurre blanc, was vibrant and beautifully plated, while breakfasts at Corail stood out for their exceptional tropical fruit selection, Paris-quality pastries, and honey that came from the estate’s very own beehives.

La Samanna delivers something rare: a laissez-faire vibe by day, and a compelling social scene come nightfall, underpinned by service that is proactive, personal and never performative. Guests were mostly couples and small families – low-key luxury travellers seeking polish without pretension. And despite its reputation, the resort never felt crowded. What surprised me most? This isn’t a gateway resort. It’s a main-event destination and, with everything St Martin offers beyond the resort gates, it makes a compelling case for a longer stay.

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Just a 30-minute ferry crossing from St Martin, Anguilla presents a distinctly different face from its neighbour. Quieter and less varied in dining and culture than St Martin, this slender island reveals its appeal more slowly. There’s an intriguing contrast between visible wealth – mega villas and yachts – and pockets of dereliction and litter, a reminder that prosperity isn’t always evenly distributed. Yet this contrast doesn’t diminish the island’s natural beauty, particularly when seen from the water.

A boat trip around the island offered the clearest perspective, with stops at Sandy Island and Little Bay. From that vantage, the true beauty emerges – 33 beaches in total, powder-soft and protected, curving into turquoise bays. And while not inexpensive, for those keen to explore even further afield, day trips to St Barths – which typically include a tour of the island and lunch at Eden Rock – can be enjoyed by boat, private jet or scheduled flight.

For dining beyond the resorts, the island offers excellent options: Ken’s BBQ in the Valley for simple, smoky ribs; Jacala Beach for elegant beachfront French with exceptional lobster salad; Blanchard’s in Meads Bay for Caribbean flavours delivered with finesse; and Mango’s Seaside Grill for some of the island’s best sunset views alongside grilled snapper. There’s also golf at Cuisinart Resort, snorkelling at Little Bay with cliff jumping, and the Sand Bar restaurant on Prickly Pear – accessible only by boat, serving local cuisine on a sandbank.

Cap Juluca feels like a private island dream – intimate, serene and deeply luxurious without any pretension. Everything revolves around Maundays Bay, a 1.2-mile curve of sand so fine it feels like talcum powder beneath your feet. The water shifts from pale turquoise to deep sapphire, and the bay’s gentle arc creates a unique sense of privacy. Sunset is the defining moment here – pink skies reflected in glassy water, best enjoyed barefoot with a cocktail in hand.

The resort’s Moroccan-inspired architecture – whitewashed domes, arches and tiled courtyards – works beautifully. It could have felt gimmicky; instead, it reads as elegant and intentional, the clean lines and curves complementing rather than competing with the natural setting.

I stayed in a Deluxe Beachfront room and preferred it to the larger Premium Beachfront rooms or Beachfront Junior and Casita Suite options for several reasons. Its proximity to the sand meant I heard waves rather than neighbouring guests; the terrace felt like my own private beach club with loungers and panoramic palm-framed ocean views; and the positioning – elevated yet with direct beach access – struck the perfect balance between privacy and convenience. But if space is key, then the alternatives offer either a solarium or rooftop terrace, separate living areas, plunge pools and their own golf carts, depending on the category you choose. Pool Suites meanwhile are more private. Set in the back courtyard with their own pools, they can be configured as one-, three-, or five-bedroom residences.

Getting around Cap Juluca couldn’t be easier. Golf carts are available to hire by the day, though bikes are also scattered throughout the resort – just hop on and off as needed, leaving them wherever suits. Down at the beach, each room has its own allocated sunbeds with buzzers for service. Drinks and snacks arrive throughout the day (the snacks were excellent; the service occasionally slow, but never frustratingly so). Watersports are non-motorised only: sailing, paddleboards, and a designated snorkelling area at one end of the beach where the reef comes close to shore.

For families, the kids’ club (for 4-12-year-olds) organises a comprehensive schedule of arts and crafts, hikes, treasure hunts, beach games and watersports, so you can enjoy a little guilt-free indulgence at the Guerlain Spa!

Drawing inspiration from the Arawak tribe, Anguilla’s earliest inhabitants, the spa offers seven treatment rooms overlooking a garden, a sauna, steam room, multi-temperature plunge pools, a sun deck, and an infinity pool. Not to be missed is the Arawak Signature Facial which focuses on facial rejuvenation using botanical and bee-based ingredients. There are all sorts of aromatherapy, body scrubs, wraps, and detox treatments to indulge in; plus daily holistic wellness programmes of yoga, sound healing, tai chi, terrarium building, a beach bootcamp and Pilates.

Dining here is a real highlight too. Uchu, the Peruvian restaurant, was my personal favourite: lime-bright Peruvian ceviche, kissed with chilli and presented in a seashell like edible art. What made it so exceptional wasn’t just the flavours – though those were precise and vibrant – but the beachfront setting and staff who explained every ingredient with genuine passion. One evening, after mentioning a love of spice, the chef created an off-menu tiradito tailored entirely to my tastes – a small gesture that perfectly captured the resort’s approach to everything. At Pimms, the lobster thermidor – rich, indulgent and paired with a crisp white wine – was faultless, while Cip’s by Cipriani offered comforting, flawlessly executed classic Italian fare. Even the Cap Shack, a vintage food truck on the beach, captured the island’s relaxed spirit with tacos, ribs, rum cocktails and toes-in-the-sand ease – ideal for lunch when you don’t want to leave the shoreline.

Cap Juluca hums with low-key luxury: no crowds, no noise, just the gentle rhythm of waves, the occasional sound of laughter drifting across the bay, and an atmosphere that feels deeply private and restorative – perfect for couples seeking romance or anyone craving a true escape.