Matachica Resort & Spa

Research says you need eight days to truly relax on holiday. According to the experts, that’s how long it takes to forget about your job, your home and any nagging to-do lists before you can let your mind drift into a state of utter bliss. So when Mr Smith and I made a last-minute decision to jet to Belize for a mere 48 hours of restful respite, we knew we had our work (or anti-work, rather?) cut out for us. Could we reach maximum mellow in such a short amount of time?

Fortunately, we had two things working in our favour: first, we are both wildly efficient at kicking back. In the time it takes most couples to ask each other, ‘What should we have for dinner?’, Mr Smith and I have already prepared a cheese plate and slipped into some sweats with a glass of chard in hand. Second, we were headed to Matachica Resort & Spa, a hotel with pool loungers, beachside beds and a 2:1 human to hammock ratio for most rooms. We were in very relaxing hands.

After a red-eye flight from Los Angeles, we touched down in Belize City on Saturday morning around 6am. From there, we flew 15 minutes on a puddle jumper to San Pedro Town, where staff from Matachica met us with a golf cart to sweep us to a nearby boat that zipped us to the hotel. I realise that sounds like every mode of transportation imaginable, save for hot-air balloon and camel, but the journey only confirmed that we were headed far from the reaches of our everyday lives. Plus, I had to hand it to our new Matachica friend, who not only gathered our luggage, drove the golf cart and captained the boat, he also didn’t so much as bat a judgemental eye when I requested a piña colada at 8am.

Once at the hotel, we grabbed a table at Mambo Restaurant and scarfed down pancakes and huevos rancheros with a side of bacon – we’d need every calorie to kickstart our day of lethargy. Turns out it didn’t take much: at the end of the meal, I caught myself staring into the remnants on my plate, a lone nibble of pancake floating lazily in a sea of maple syrup. For a split second, I swear the pancake morsel morphed into me and the syrup puddle became Matachica’s infinity pool. Now, I know psychics can divine the future based on tea leaves, but does anyone make predictions according to pancake platters? The cosmos were clearly telling me I needed to hop to it with my holiday-ing. 

Just then, as if by slothful intervention, an employee from the front desk appeared to tell us our room was ready. The bungalows at Matachica – some directly on the beach and others tucked back into the property’s tropical foliage – are all named after fruit. No offense to Mango, Watermelon or Banana, but I knew we hit the jackpot with Grape, which we all know is the fruit of wine – an excellent omen for an indulgent weekend to come. And though our piece of palapa-covered paradise was one of the smaller room types on the property, a Sea Breeze Bungalow, we didn’t find anything lacking from the king bed with canopy and generously-sized rainfall shower in the bathroom.

With that we quickly unpacked – the last spritely action we’d have for a while – and Mr Smith climbed into that mammoth bed while I made my way to the pool. From there, we embarked on eight hours spent almost entirely horizontal. Mr Smith moved between the bed and the hammock on our private porch, while I sauntered between the pool, a pier dotted with daybeds, and the Jade Spa, where I spent a glorious 90 minutes in a massage. 

Soon soothing afternoon turned into easy-going evening and though I briefly considered heading to dinner in a robe, I did end up showering and dressing myself. While washing my hair I took note of the shampoo – a concoction of botanicals from British beauty brand Haeckles. Called Bio Energiser + Broccoli Hair Cleanser, the shampoo had more get-up-and-go than I did, a detail that made me chuckle. 

Bathed and presentable, Mr Smith and I made our way to dinner, where we melted into our seats and feasted on fresh ceviche (to start), lobster covered in creamy coconut (for me) and mango-pineapple chicken (for him). At the next table we heard a family discussing plans to rise at dawn and head out on a diving excursion. ‘Should we try to be up by noon?’ Mr Smith asked me. ‘Sounds about right’, I said and ordered another martini. 

We filled the next day with even more relaxation. More piña coladas, more hours clocked in loungers, more seafood and more appreciation for doing absolutely nothing. In one burst of energy I did jump from the pool to my chair to grab my iPhone when I spotted a pair of iguanas doing some sunbathing of their own. However, I soon realised there was no rush; the lizards were just as languid as I was. ‘Do you mind sending me a copy of that?’ a woman in the hot tub asked me. ‘I’m too lazy to reach for my own phone’, she explained. Clearly I was surrounded by kindred spirits, both reptilian and otherwise.

There’s a place for activity – a hiking retreat in Peru, for example – and there’s a place for recharging. Matachica is basically the Machu Picchu of restful retreats. As the weekend drew to a close, I congratulated Mr Smith and myself for doing the impossible: we had reached full-fledged release in just 48 hours. When the boat pulled away from the hotel to bring us back to San Pedro Town, I considered tracking down those researchers to let them know what we had accomplished. Is there a Nobel Prize for leisure? I wondered. But instead I slid my phone back into my purse, rested my head against Mr Smith’s shoulder and soaked up those sublime last moments of utter inactivity.