Back-to-back stays at two distinctly different properties from The Lux Collective are unified by a forward-thinking approach to hospitality.

Poached prawns with braised palm hearts and tamarind-lime sabayon at SALT of Palmar’s The Good Kitchen restaurant, and poolside sun beds at LUX* Grand Baie’s Beach Rouge — *Left to right:* Poached prawns with braised palm hearts and tamarind-lime sabayon at SALT of Palmar’s The Good Kitchen restaurant; poolside sun beds at LUX* Grand Baie’s Beach Rouge.

Surrounded by glowing Himalayan salt bricks in the only halotherapy chamber in Mauritius, I dozily contemplate the purported benefits of inhaling salt-infused air. Improved respiratory health is one. But while the experience is soothing enough, I wonder if it might be a tad redundant; my room at this east-coast resort is so close to the beach, I reckon I could do just as well breathing in the sea breezes from the day bed on my terrace.

SALT of Palmar (from US$327 a night), as the property is known, is my first stop on a four-night sojourn in Mauritius, an island nation of sugarcane fields, jagged volcanic peaks, and reef-sheltered beaches in the western Indian Ocean. It’s the first of Singapore-based The Lux Collective’s SALT-branded portfolio of adults-only boutique hotels, which targets “culturally curious” travelers with savvy design, eco-mindedness, and a community-driven ethos. SALT of Palmar ticks all those boxes and then some, right down to its quirky bones.

Originally built in 2005 on a wedge of land near the village of Quatre Cocos, the kasbah-esque structure is more Morocco than Mauritius, a peach-hued confection topped with domes and stepped walls that wraps around a central swimming pool. After acquiring the property, The Lux Collective brought in local architect Jean-François Adam and London- based French artist and designer Camille Walala to give it a stylish makeover. With influences ranging from the punchy, pop-colored style of 1980s Italian design collective Memphis Group to the bold motifs of South Africa’s Ndebele tribe, Walala looked to the tropical palette of Mauritius for inspiration, jazzing up the rebuilt pool area with teal sun beds and black-and-white striped parasols; painting the walls of a “chill out” area next to the interior courtyard in jaunty Tetris-like geometries of sunshine yellow, lilac, and cobalt blue; and thoroughly reinvigorating the 59 guest rooms. The result is quite a departure from your typical five-star Mauritian resort.

*Left to right:* Sun loungers and date palms line the 25-meter lap pool at SALT of Palmar; the bedroom of a junior suite at LUX* Grand Baie.

My own room is just meters from the beach. I’d like to say I’m lulled to sleep by the sound of lapping waves each night, but slumber comes instantly thanks to a snooze-inducing mattress by Swedish chiropractor-founded bed maker Carpe Diem. Leaving aside the Dyson hairdryers, Yogi Bare yoga mats, and Roberts radios, just about every other room amenity comes from a network of local artisans and makers. Dubbed “Salt Shakers,” they include Nathalie Marot and Sarah Hoffmann, a mother-and-daughter duo who make salt scrubs and botanical soaps-on-a-rope; and basket weaver Reotee Buleeram, who creates beach bags from recycled plastic. The cinnamon-scented sedge slippers and plush organic robes (made in part from upcycled coffee grounds) are nice touches as well.

“SALT is all about creating meaningful local experiences,” general manager Raj Reedoy tells me during aperitivo hour at the hotel’s breezy rooftop bar. “Our philosophy is to connect guests not just with the place, but with its people, its flavors, its crafts. In this way, we also serve the community.”

Sustainability is a key ingredient, especially at the restaurant, whose zero-waste kitchen (no buffets here) grows most of its vegetables in hydroponic greenhouses and sources all other ingredients from its own set of Salt Shakers—small-scale producers like policeman turned palm-heart farmer Soobiraj Bhaugeerutty, fisherman Kishor Juggoo, and fruit growers Asok and Bibi Jugoo. All that island bounty is parlayed into dishes that, like Mauritius itself, are shaped by a mélange of cultural influences: spicy shrimp croquettes; giant prawns in stone-ground curry paste; wine-braised deer with barley risotto.

The curving main building of LUX* Grand Baie.

For a full-on culinary immersion, I join executive sous chef Shiva Moonien on a morning visit to the covered market in Flacq, a 15-minute drive inland. Between chatting with vendors and filling his shopping bag with chou chou (a kind of gourd), bunches of water spinach, plump tomatoes, and okra, he treats me to snacks like gateaux piments (fried chili cakes) and sweet, creamy alouda, Mauritius’s answer to the milkshake. Back at the resort’s kitchen, I don an apron and lend my meager cooking skills to the preparation of a scratch-made masala paste for the okra curry that I’ll have for lunch, accompanied by sautéed chou chou and fluffy basmati rice.

Mouthwatering chicken and okra curries, braised palm hearts, and stir-fried water spinach at SALT of Palmar by executive sous chef Shiva Moonien — *Left to right:* SALT’s executive sous chef, Shiva Moonien; a Mauritian lunch of chicken and okra curries, braised palm hearts, and stir fried water spinach at SALT of Palmar.

Those with more time on their hands can sign up for other local experiences such as visiting a vanilla farm or learning how to play traditional instruments like the ravanne, a tambourine-like drum used in the island’s Creole sega music. For wellness-minded guests, there are forest-bathing outings to Bras d’Eau National Park and yogi-led meditation sessions overlooking the Palmar Lagoon. And then there’s the viridian-hued spa, with its halotherapy room and customized salt-based treatments.

Sunlight beautifully hits the architecture at SALT of Palmar, where guests can enjoy spa treatments with local ingredients. — *Left to right:* Moorish-themed architecture at SALT of Palmar; spa ingredients and a herbal compress at LUX* Grand Baie.

On my last morning, I join SALT’s wellness coach, Tony, for a “cycling safari” on fat-wheeled bikes that takes us down the coast to the village of Trou d’Eau Douce and then back along a country road flanked by pineapple fields. Halfway along, Tony advises me to slow down, worried that I’m missing the scenery. “You’re not in a hurry to get back are you?” he asks. Come to think of it, maybe I am.

A very different stay awaits me on the north coast, where I check in to the new flagship resort of The Lux Collective’s upscale LUX* brand. Still fresh from its official inauguration last October, LUX* Grand Baie (from US$904 a night) is very much grander in scale than SALT, though it’s hardly a behemoth, with 116 luxurious suites, residences, pool villas, and three-bedroom penthouses.

The almost four-hectare property has an enviable location just up the road from the seaside town of Grand Baie, whose azure cove is dotted with yachts and tourist boats. Fronted by a crescent of white sand, it occupies the site of the former Merville Beach hotel, which opened in 1969 as one of the island’s first resorts. The aforementioned Jean-François Adam, who grew up nearby, designed LUX* Grand Baie from scratch, drawing from childhood memories of the sailboats that he used to watch from these very shores. The result is a curving main building crowned with sail-like structures of sugar-cane thatch that lend the modernist architecture a distinct sense of place. Particularly dramatic is the lobby, a soaring, cathedral-like space with a sight line that leads directly to the sparkling lagoon.

Inside, British interior designer Kelly Hoppen (also responsible for the revamp of just-reopened sister property LUX* Belle Mare, not far from SALT) has dressed the guest quarters in soft, neutral tones complimented by ash-wood floors, matte black fixtures, and terrazzo-accented bathrooms. Their feel is more urban chic than tropical—until, that is, you slide open the glass doors to your spacious balcony or terrace to let the outside in.

The main restaurant and beach club, Beach Rouge, is a naturally more exuberant space, with candy cane–striped sun loungers and pops of red and a pizza oven shaped like a giant disco ball. The menu has a Mediterranean bent (the dinner theme is Italian on the evening I arrive), with lavish break-fasts supplemented by a deli-style buffet and kombucha bar. After sunset, the swimming pool out front glows red and a DJ starts spinning.

Downstairs, Ai Kisu is a sumptuous black-and-gold affair serving classics from around Asia. A glass-walled open kitchen allows patrons to watch the action as Philippine chef Yussuf Mendez and his 10-person team prepare everything from Peking duck to nasi goreng to prime cuts of wagyu cooked warayaki-style over a blaze of sugarcane straw. But nothing beats the views at Bisou, the resort’s adults only rooftop restaurant and bar, which looks out across a curving infinity pool to a vista of Indian Ocean blues. Cue the Instagram pose.

*Left to right:* A rooftop infinity pool of the LUX* Grand Baie; the soaring lobby at the same resort.

Everything has been so thoughtfully considered here that I’m tempted not to ever leave, though I do wander down to Grand Baie one afternoon to check out its lively strip of souvenir shops and seaside bars. (Reflective of the island’s multicultural heritage, the walk takes me past a Hindu temple, mosque, and funky Catholic church in fairly quick succession). Back at the resort, there’s plenty to do and see, from complimentary glass-bottomed boat rides over the lagoon’s coral gardens, workouts at the rooftop gym stations and running tracks, and rum tastings in Beach Rouge. And the sculptural three-level spa is outstanding, with a garden of trickling water features, a subterranean hydrotherapy circuit, and a hammam for sudsy massages.

I end my visit on a sweet note with a pastry degustation at Maison LUX*, a Milanese-style café-cum–cocktail bar adjacent to the lobby. The session is led by French pastry chef Marie Meunier, an evangelist for native fruits like goyaves de Chine (strawberry guava) and bigarade, a type of citrus. Today’s treats include a tartlet of Mauritian raspberries, shell-shaped cakes of caramelized badamier (sea almond) nuts, and a pollen-topped honey mousse. “My team was so surprised when I brought in fruits like bigarade to the kitchen, things they haven’t tasted since childhood,” Meunier tells me. “Mauritius has so many of these amazing local ingredients, but they’re hardly used anymore.”

As with my time at SALT, the experience offers a whole new appreciation for the terroir and traditions of this inimitable Indian Ocean island.

GETTING THERE

The only nonstop flight between Southeast Asia and Mauritius is operated by the island nation’s flag carrier, Air Mauritius, which flies twice-weekly between its home base and Kuala Lumpur using a state-of-the-art Airbus A330-200.

This article originally appeared in the October/November 2023 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“An Island in Two Acts”).

Mauritius: Island Time in the Indian Ocean

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