Down on Su Giudeu beach, where the water laps at the shore like it’s in no hurry to go anywhere, I find myself standing still, silent. Not for effect, but because it seems the only fitting response. Behind me, the chocolate-coloured dunes fold into scrubland like rumpled linen. Ahead, the Mediterranean stretches impossibly clear and calmly smug, like it knows it’s outshining every desktop wallpaper I’ve ever seen.
My wife and I were drawn to Chia Laguna Resort on Sardinia’s south coast by that sea. But the real highlights have been things like the glowing turquoise of the main swimming pool in the late afternoon light, where the only sound is the occasional splash; the shadows dancing across terracotta walls; a chilled glass of local Vermentino on the terrace; and the slow unravelling of our tightly wound city-selves.
Our room, tucked into the hillside, is simple in the best way: stone floors, natural wood, calm tones and a layout that feels open, airy and intentionally unhurried. There is a kind of spacious quiet built into the design – nothing flashy, just thoughtful. Opening the door to the balcony is like flicking a switch: the room fills with sea air and the kind of view that silences conversation. The beach and the sea, gleaming and vast before us. Every afternoon, we sit out there before wandering to the terrace bar for a drink, watching the sky turn a soft baby blue as the light fades.
We eat dinner each night at La Terrazza, with more sweeping views – this time over the lagoon and forest-covered hills. Every meal starts with a buffet of unapologetically abundant salads, grilled vegetables, local cheeses and seafood like calamari, mussels and octopus salad. Everything is ridiculously fresh: tomatoes that taste of the sun, fragrant and sharp basil, olive oil that appears to have come straight from the grove. Though the mains included rotating specials, the carbonara – something I never order at home – is so perfect that I have it twice during our stay.
We linger long after the plates have been cleared – not because we’re waiting for anything, but because there’s nowhere else we’d rather be than this terrace, where soft music drifts from the bar.
A stay here wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the spa; here, we try the ‘Honey Road’ ritual – a warm, slow, meditative treatment that begins with a soothing scrub of honey and salt, and ends with a full-body massage that seems to stretch time itself. The scent – earthy, sweet, and lingering – clings to my skin and follows me gently through the day. Afterwards, I slip into the outdoor hot tub (one of five in the spa), the water warm against the breeze and the view rolling out to sea, and lose track of time.
That evening, our final night, we sit under a clear sky at La Terrazza, stars pricking the darkness above the hills. I twirl forkfuls of pasta while we sip the last of the Vermentino. The air is warm, the night unhurried. No noise. No rush. Just two people, full in every sense of the word, savouring a place that knows exactly how to make you slow down.
chialagunaresort.com, rooms from £270/night (correct at the time of writing).
Photos: R.Patti, Antonio Saba, Chia Laguna, Terrazzo las Arenas, Heinz Troll, Mr. Tripper.
