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BY ANDREW POSTMAN, October 2004
“Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me,” wrote
Why should you care? Because it turns out that you needn’t be Warren Buffett or Madonna to experience this kind of luxury. In fact, once you do the math and compare such a vacation against many more mundane getaways, the cost will strike you as not unreasonable—and very worthwhile. One of dozens of properties available through Jamaica Villas, Noble House is owned by a foreigner who uses his home for only part of the year and rents it out the rest. After flying into tourist-teeming Montego Bay, my wife, two sons (ages two and four) and I, along with friends—another family of four with two young children—were met by a minivan driver and taken to the property, located less than ten miles southwest of Montego Bay but, psychologically, in another time zone altogether. The staff of eight—a cook, a butler-waiter, two gardeners, two chambermaids, a laundress, and a security man who ambles the property from sunset to sunrise—awaited us in front of the elegant, wrought-iron entrance. They took our bags, and we entered what would be our manse for the next week. Immediately, we felt welcome. I’m descended from largely eastern European peasant stock on my mother’s side and labor union organizers on my father’s, so I have never aspired—not consciously—to be the lord of anyone’s manor. However, with minimal guilt, I could at least tour the property: the extensive open-air patio made even brighter by the white Jamaican marble floor, the airy Great Room (equipped with TV, VCR, stereo, phone) that looks out on the sea, the charming Japanese footbridge (a kid favorite) that spans the man-made reflecting pool winding about the atrium. (Upon our entrance, my older son, Sam, stepped fully clothed into the pool, probably because he couldn’t believe it was even there.) Noble House also has an impressive collection of antiques and furnishings, many of which were accumulated by Billy Rose, the famed Broadway producer (and paramour of Fanny “Funny Girl” Bryce), and later acquired by Sol Atlas, Noble House’s original owner. Among the treasures are a drop-leaf tavern table from 1700, a hand-carved livery cupboard from 1640, a 19th-century grandfather clock and carvings from Indian temple chariots. Forget what the pieces are worth: More important, they made excellent props for a game of hide-and-seek. I’m relieved to report that our family did not diminish the world of antiquities. It’s fair to say that, unlike a large resort hotel where one often must choose between view or proximity, spaciousness or ambience, each bedroom at Noble House—including the one in a cottage beside the swimming pool—is sizable and handsomely appointed, and looks out across the property to the Caribbean beyond. Even the bathrooms, with their sunken tubs and/or sliding glass walls, open onto small, night-lit gardens, making you feel as much outside as in. We immediately retired (such an aristocratic word—like “wintered” or “summered”) to the swimming pool, where the staff served us tropical drinks as we lay on inflatables. “I love Jamaica!” the kids cheered spontaneously from their various floats. Then we romped across the considerable lawn before trekking the few yards down to the beach: our beach. We did encounter the occasional fisherman or strolling craftsperson looking to sell trinkets or clothes—both my wife and the other mom bought a dress and a couple of T-shirts—but the artisans always approached us in a genuinely friendly manner. Their warmth was matched by that of the exceptionally peaceful water, which (especially comforting to parents of young children) goes out very far before the depth even approaches waist-high. On the beach we chased after crabs and lizards, built sand castles, swam and looked back on the spread—estate, villa, Shangri-La—that was ours. About food: Soon after we arrived, we sat with the cook, Valerie, to discuss meal preferences for the coming days. We were eager to dine on the specialties of island cuisine, and gave her money to go to the local market to buy ingredients. If one is so inclined, one may choose to accompany the cook to the market (we, however, were inclined to swim, sun and relax). Each day, we took our three meals on the veranda. The staff was happy to give the children their dinner at six so that we could put them to bed early and enjoy a later dinner, just grown-ups, at eight. Every meal was a dream dining experience: an intimate restaurant in which you are the only patrons, you get the best table each time, you enjoy the exclusive attention of the waitstaff, you don’t worry (yet) about bills and tips, you can make special requests, and you’re treated like, well, nobles. Indeed, during our stay we were fed, waited on, guided and generally cared for with unsurpassable hospitality. For example, when my older son became enamored of coconuts, Adrian, one of the gardeners, harvested several and split them for us with his machete. We drank from them before he sliced the coconuts into juicy wedges of meat. Marcea, a delightful chambermaid, was charmed by my younger son, Charlie, the moment we entered Noble House , and he happily followed her around for an extra tickle or two. Patrick, the other gardener, schooled us in the precise way to pulverize almonds (which grow on the property) with stones so that the nut can be extracted from the shell. And Lloyd, our waiter-butler, could be relied on for culinary and touristic tidbits of all kinds. When we wanted to get off the grounds, we took a five-minute taxi ride just down the road to Round Hill Hotel and Villas; use of the swanky, if old-world, amenities was included in our stay. We relaxed and played on the beach, snorkeled, took a glass-bottom boat ride and got massages at the “wellness center.” (My early-evening walk to the spa—at water’s edge, as waves crashed over rocks—was close to a divine experience in itself.) The kids spent several hours drawing and playing under supervised care, and we all enjoyed four o’clock tea and pastries at Round Hill’s outdoor restaurant. On our staff’s one mandated night off, we investigated the hotel’s beach barbecue buffet. I know, I know. The money. I’ve already mentioned the villa’s sumptuous food, which allows you to avoid Jamaican restaurant prices—which can be as much as $100 a couple for dinner. The other key to making this sort of luxury vacation experience work is to have friends—several friends, as we did—with whom you would like to vacation. One week at Noble House during high season costs $9,000 if all four bedrooms are being used (two to a room; low season is $7,000). Add 10% to 15% for the recommended staff gratuity and about $30 per adult per day for food. For eight people, then, Noble House during high season costs approximately $220 per person per day. Jamaica Villas’ other properties also offer a staff and similar terms but vary in look and feel. Silent Waters is a spectacular mountaintop spread with astonishing ocean views, a tennis court, a helipad, and an infinity pool. It houses up to 20 guests, which may be a challenge, unless you’re insanely popular, and costs about $265 per person in high season with meals and gratuity. Spyglass Hill , a nine-acre, eight-bedroom estate near The Tryall Club, with its world-renowned championship golf course, works out to about $150 per person, per night for 16 people in high season with meals and gratuity. I’ve been on vacations that cost as much and more without the elegance, the privacy, the—how do you say?—staff of eight. And I’ve certainly spent more than this without being treated, as I was at Noble House , as if I were a Rockefeller traveling under a pseudonym. Perhaps my one regret is that our Jamaican holiday may have spoiled me for future vacations. Oh, well. As the Duchess of Windsor supposedly said (not quite): You can never be too rich, too thin or too villa-fied.
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Noble House |
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Silent Waters |
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Spyglass Hill |
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