Today, the public places of this resort are the Relay and Chateau at the top of the whole structure. Sharp teens in beige polo shirts, slightly darker trousers, greet you, check you, accompany your car to your level, so to speak.
All villas have French names, and we were in Calais, in the same room. This proved to be very convenient, as it is the closest of 50 suites to a heated outdoor pool and a superbly hot hot tub, as well as to a small, but well-equipped indoor sports gym. In the outer door of the suite there is a vine for the vine, and embroidered engraved steel plaques can be canceled to say “Leisure” or “Makeup” (the label with our name also hung outside the door, mailbox).
Through the door was our private terrace, with a front wall high enough so that we could look at the flat valley, but no one could see. The suite consists of half a living room, a half bedroom, one-piece with thick oak planks with local woven rag rugs. We had awesome heavy oak furniture with peak seating. Light walls covered with saffron had the same wooden blinds, and the top woven beer fans were suspended from an unpolished oak ceiling. I liked the big abstract oils on the walls, and over the working fire of the magazine was a four-foot circular mirror. There was a large table (free wireless access), a Panasonic flat-screen TV and a dining area for four: a welcome bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, Round Hill for Auberge Resorts, 2003 was on the table.
My husband was delighted with the excellent wrapping sound system, with amazing classical music, while I noticed a coffee machine, a free mini bar (with a sparkling game Izze and drinks with Power-C vitamins), safe and rusty and white striped rods with towel warmers. In addition to toiletries, in the bath used oil baths Dr Hauschka.
It was lunch time. We walked along zigzag paths, surrounded by olive trees and sensational modern sculpture, all named. In the outer gallery there is a rescue pilot with a helmet, but without a face; Archie Held lovers, stainless with running water; Keeyla Meadows & # 39; Sunflowers, fun pottery and metal; and Orotero I and II, aluminum bulls. CEO Brad Reynolds sat on the terrace and looked down the steep slopes of the villas.
Tables were set with Villeroy & Boch porcelain, golden damask clothing, golden glass night lights and small orange flowers in terracotta pots. We were offered glasses of Shramsberg Blanc de Noir, and the most super coarse pieces of bread. I tasted chef Robert Curry, roasted in Sonoma foie gras jacket, and halibut with fry potatoes, which no chef in this part of California can drop, it seems, in our day. I switched to dessert, although, apparently, crusty porcelain chocolate dumplings with tarragon ice cream are a favorite.
We slept like notorious magazines, and I woke up at dawn to refresh myself. I got to the resort resort boutique, which has an array of Rodeo Drive from disposable bags, as well as colorful pearl jewelry designed by Mary Watson.
Scorched and dressed, we climbed back through the gardens - sorry, sculpture gallery - for breakfast. We could drink coffee in expanded polystyrene, without a bar, but we decided to pay for the same delicious Graeffo wine outside the house, back to our restaurant. table on the terrace. Breakfast here also comes with outstanding fresh juice, good fruit and a special chef, a small amount of zucchini bread (the next time I can even have a place for Auberge omelet filled with Napa ham, cheese gruyere, spinach and potatoes finger).
