Hôtel Basgi Basgi

The last time Mr Smith and I went on holiday, I was three months pregnant. We spent it sun-soaked in Marrakech, blissfully unaware that holidays, and our lives, were about to look very, very different. 

Fast forward more than a year, and it wasn’t until our baby was eight months old that we decided a trip away might do us some good. Our hotel was booked, and in the confirmation email, Coline from Hôtel Basgi Basgi cheerfully informed us that the baby’s travel cot would be ready and waiting in our suite. A few weeks before the trip, my mother suggested we travel solo and leave the baby with her. I initially brushed off the idea, purely out of first-time-mum nerves, but after a few more nudges, we thought: why not? I emailed Coline to let her know there’d be one less of us. 'Oh, that’s a great idea!' she replied, and the guilt melted away.

At 3am on the day of our trip, Mr Smith and I slipped away to catch our flight to Corsica. Equal parts excited and nervous, we took turns reassuring each other that this minibreak was not only justified but probably a very good idea. By midday, we were bopping along the Mediterranean waves, speeding towards the secluded beach of Saleccia on a RIB. 'Far too choppy for an eight-month-old!' I shouted over the wind at Mr Smith, which I thought was a pretty good argument for leaving the baby at home. 

Turns out Coline isn’t just great at empowering new mums; she is also something of a logistical mastermind. She’d calculated our arrival time, arranged our taxi from the airport, organised an early check-in so we could freshen up, and booked us onto the boat to one of northern Corsica’s prettiest beaches. 

Saleccia is a remote sweep of powder-white sand and turquoise water. Tucked into the Agriates Desert, it’s lined with pine forest and looks beautifully wild. For the next few hours, we did nothing but read (more than a page at a time!), talk and swim until we were as wrinkly as prunes. Lunch was also booked by Coline, at one of the two restaurants nearby: the rustic A Piniccia di Saleccia, tucked away amid the trees.

Back at Basgi Basgi, the same sense of utter chill followed us from the beach. The hotel is set among pine trees just above Plage de Tettola, a pebbly stretch of coastline on the edge of Saint-Florent. Coline and her partner Matthieu run the hotel as if it were their own home; they are both easy-going, unfussy and warm. It's around a 20-minute walk into town, though e-bikes are on hand for guests. 

Our room was spacious and airy, with a beautiful little balcony overlooking the pool. The hotel clearly makes a genuine effort to run sustainably. We used the ceiling fan instead of the air-con (both are an option), and while there was no minibar, guests can keep their own refreshments in a shared Smeg fridge in the hallway.

After a quick freshen-up, we settled into one of the lounge chairs on the pool terrace and ordered some cocktails. A symphony of cicadas soundtracked the evening, and the lack of breeze in the stiff summer heat was made bearable by a few Negronis. 

The next morning, we had the most decadent lie-in before padding down to breakfast. Mr Smith and I have perfected the lazy art of swooping in for a hotel breakfast as late as possible before it finishes. Luckily, the staff were welcoming and in no rush whatsoever, which I suspect is very much the Corsican way. The breakfast was small and simple, with the emphasis on local produce rather than an overwhelming buffet. We had our cold cuts, coffee and homemade cakes at our own snail’s pace. 

We then walked approximately 10 steps over to the pool, and didn’t move for an almost embarrassing number of hours. Lazing on sunloungers, more reading, the occasional dip and, again, listening to the deafening chorus of cicadas were how we spent pretty much the entire day. Local kombucha was my afternoon tipple, accompanied by lunch (served to said sunlounger) of local fish carpaccio and fries.

Eventually, we decided we should probably leave the hotel and get some kind of step count under our belts, if only to see a bit of Saint-Florent. The town is charming and low-key, with fishing boats bobbing alongside yachts, cafés spilling onto the pavements, and the citadel keeping watch over it all. We wandered through the old streets, browsed some unnecessary souvenirs and stopped for a pre-dinner ice-cream.

The hotel has one restaurant, La Table, where breakfast, lunch and dinner are served. In the evening, it takes on a more romantic air, while retaining the same unpretentious atmosphere as during the day. We sat beneath creeping vine leaves as Antonin, the food and beverage manager with an infectious smile, gave us his personal wine recommendation. Both the wine list and menu champion Corsican produce, with an impressively local selection of ingredients. We enjoyed stuffed local fish, the freshest grilled vegetables and delicious Corsican cheeses.

The next morning we packed our bags reluctantly, feeling considerably more rested than we had when we arrived, and headed to breakfast before catching our flight home. 'Basgi Basgi' (pronounced 'Baji Baji') is the Corsican greeting of a kiss on each cheek, which feels rather fitting. Coline and Matthieu have created a place that feels intimate and unmistakably local. For a first holiday since welcoming our daughter, it did just the trick, leaving us refreshed and reminded of what it feels like to be Mr & Mrs Smith again.