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"FacebookPinterest\n\nFacebookPinterest\n\n We can thank hard-partying collegians for the fact that Cancn International is now a quick flight from Anywhere, U.S.A. And we're just as grateful that The Tides\u2014a forty-minute drive from the terminal\u2014is well hidden from those same frat crews blitzed on Jose Cuervo. There's no \"island music\" playing as you pass through the open-air lobby\u2014just the sound of the waterfalls that dot the property. Your bags will beat you to your private villa, where the minibar and flat-screen are tucked behind carved mahogany panels, preserving your king-of-the-castaways delusion. Lose your air-travel outfit and test out your private plunge pool or the outdoor shower, hemmed in by dense jungle. Once you leave your villa, you realize that all the narrow, winding footpaths lead to a beach that seems engineered to become your work computer's desktop wallpaper: silky sand, water as clear as what's in the pool, and palm trees weighted down with coconuts. A \"butler\" will happily crack one open for you, serve the juice on ice, and rematerialize to refill your glass or swap it out for rare tequila. The staff, damn near clairvoyant, relieves you of both the obligation to do anything and the nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. It's a real break, spring or not.\u2014Stan Parish\n\n  \n\nFacebookPinterest\n\nFacebookPinterest\n\nFacebookPinterest\n\nFacebookPinterest\n\n  The egg crisp and country ham; above, experience the joy of shouting \"Pull!\"   I'm not a gun guy, but I loved blasting skeet on Blackberry Farm's private shooting range. I loved lunching on buttermilk fried chicken beneath a pondside gazebo. And I loved the staff, who would be totally excited to build you a fire in your room at 1 a.m. even though you're running the A/C, too. (So I've heard.) But what I loved most about disappearing behind the rolling white fences of this lu lodge/horse farm/sportsman's paradise were, um, the golf carts. Drive yours to the barnlike dining room for chef Joseph Lenn's \"foothills cuisine\" (grown almost entirely on the farm's 4,200 acres), then take it on a bourbon-fueled 15-mph joyride through the hollows of the Smoky Mountain landscape.\u2014Brendan Vaughn\n\n  \n\nFacebookPinterest\n\nFacebookPinterest\n\nFacebookPinterest\n\nFacebookPinterest\n\n  Think of the window as a twenty-foot-wide TV that runs nature shows 24/7.   Fair warning: It takes about twenty-four hours to get from the U.S. to the tip of Chile. That's another way of saying that you don't come to the Singular Patagonia for a long weekend and \"a li'l RR.\" You trek this far, deep into pristine wilderness at the base of the Andes, because you need at least two weeks away from everything\u2014the traffic snarls, the Facebook invites, the work e-mail you swear you'll ignore but never do. Rehab starts once you're staring out of the twenty-foot-wide window in your room, one of fifty-seven built adjacent to an old cold-storage facility, overlooking the Fjord of Last Hope. You can find serenity in the vaulted bar-restaurant or at the spa, but the real reason you're here is Mother Nature. Whether you hike the Sierra Baguales hills, explore fossil-laden caves, or kayak Obstrucci&amp;amp;#xF3;n Sound, you'll find what you've needed: absolutely no cell-phone service.\u2014Jon Wilde"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.gq.com/story/all-inclusive-resort-vacations-tides-blackberry-patagonia?currentPage=1>