Review: One&Only Le Saint Géran, Mauritius

When you’ve spent a career in the best resorts in the world — Fiji, the Maldives, the Seychelles — there is only one logical next step: go and try somewhere worse.  So I finally made the twelve-hour journey to Mauritius to see if the wisdom of crowds holds true and if it ain’t worth the trip.

Getting there

Let me begin with praise, so I can get it out of the way.  But this is praise for the airport, not the property.  Must say: I was very surprised how fast it was from landing to going through immigration, and then our luggage was already there waiting for us.  Although what a waste of time to do that traveller declaration form.  Why do these paper forms even exist?  It’s like some modern ritual that no one quite understands.  Like paying taxes.

Outside, a sign with my name on it, and behind the sign a Mercedes V-Class, and behind that an hour of Mauritius until we arrived.  On arrival, someone hit a gong.  A tray of welcome drinks appeared.  The hotel manager greeted us by name.  All was well.

Setting

Originally opened in 1975 as the island’s first luxury hotel, it closed for a full rebuild in 2017.  Then further updates in 2024.  It already feels dated.  Nobody is looking at row upon row of these duplex blocks and mistaking them for a Maldivian villa.  It has the feel of a place I’ve come to call Anywhere.  You’ve been to Anywhere a hundred times and never once bothered to remember it, largely because you’ll be in Anywhere again by Thursday.  It’s the equivalent of soup.

The resort occupies its own private peninsula on the east coast, sixty acres of gardens with the open Indian Ocean on one side and a sheltered turquoise lagoon on the other, and roughly two kilometres of white sand wrapped around the edges.  It means the water is calm and flat, which is wonderful for children.  You are never staring into the abyss — there’s always another piece of land out there across the bay, with wind turbines on the horizon.  And as there’s never a golf course far away in Mauritius, it means a ground invasion by a certain president is not entirely outside the realm of possibility.  He’d take the turbines out first.  Then he’d play eighteen.

The beach is decent, but not world-class, although it is rather rocky by the water, which is where beaches are traditionally at their most important.  Credit where it’s due on the sheer scale of the thing: the beach runs for such an enormous distance, and the property has spread the loungers throughout, so it didn’t ever feel crowded, nor feel like you’re walking through a festival. Although they were not at full occupancy and, of course, beaches in Mauritius are public, which means people repeatedly approached us on the walkway, selling seashells and bracelets.  Someone truly does sell seashells on the seashore.  It also meant I spent the week on kidnapping watch, convinced I was going to end up as the idiot Dad in a ransom movie.

A chain of ornamental ponds runs through the gardens, complete with ducks that comprehensively outperformed the kids club as an attraction.  Those ponds produce mosquitos in industrial volume, so there’s a cost, and the cost is your ankles.

We came in August, their winter, and I never thought I’d fly to Mauritius to escape the English summer.  And yet.  It was refreshing.  Genuinely a relief.

Facilities

Mini golf.  Motorised water sports.  Multiple tennis courts and padel courts.  A gym, a kids club, a teen club, a bar, table tennis, basketball — all clustered into one area that functions as the social heart of the resort.  Some of that social energy is the staff playing table tennis against each other all day, but it’s energy nonetheless.

And then there’s the shopping.  There is a boutique here containing a Brunello Cucinelli store.  An actual Brunello Cucinelli, on a beach, in the Indian Ocean, presumably for the one chap who wakes up in 30°C heat and thinks: cashmere.  There’s also a “Creative Studio”, too, which is clearly local language for “this is the third boutique”.

There is also a pool built into the main restaurant that no human being in their right mind would use.  The proper pool sits at the lunch restaurant, where a DJ plays what I assume is called beach music.  I say assume because it was too loud for me to learn the name of the genre.

The padel court was mid-maintenance; one tennis court had equipment lying about on it, and the paddling pool at the kids club had the destitute look of a discarded animal.

Spa / Gym

The gym is excellent.  Mostly new equipment, split across three spaces: a Pilates and yoga room, a “sweat studio” for spinning and HIIT, and a main gym divided into strength and cardio.  Like so many One&Only properties with their Club One, this is a very activity-focused property.

The spa is Guerlain, and the entrance is beautiful.  The outdoor pool is gorgeous and, blessedly, properly heated.  Both changing rooms have a sauna and a steam room.  It’s more than enough.  It is, however, not wow, and the details are where it comes apart: lights missing in the sauna, an odd smell in the steam room, stains on the cushions by the spa pool.

Accommodation

We took a two-bedroom, which is really a one-bedroom Beachfront Suite with a connecting work.  It connects well and works perfectly for a family, specifically, my family.  I couldn’t comment on yours; I don’t spend enough time with them.  In retrospect, a single Beachfront Suite would have done us fine, but waste money I must.  A Beachfront Suite is also a rather generous term, as sure, it is technically by the beach, in the same way I am technically sane.

The main suite is nicely done, without reaching great heights.  Living area separated from the bedroom, a guest loo off the hallway, a luggage area beside the bathroom, an outdoor shower, a large indoor one.  Space is not the problem here.  It has a Cheval Blanc St Barths quality to it: an older building given a face lift to try and hide the massive flaws.  Like Hannibal Lecter wearing another man’s face, essentially. Convincing from a distance; less so up close.

The other problem is everything around it.  Those rooms ain’t letting much light in, and they’re stacked into blocks across two floors, lower floors commanding the higher price, which means you have neighbours on multiple sides and above you.  Villas, these are not.  There are residences available, but I wasn’t convinced enough to move.  Privacy is available only to those willing to keep their sheers drawn for the duration of the holiday.  There’s a terrace, but the terraces are close enough that it feels like voyeurism to be there.

Then the real joy of experiencing that quintessential shared-apartment block feeling I’ve been missing my whole life.  Thumping music at 8pm; the regular percussion of footsteps overhead, sounding like a football team was practicing.  And a main bathroom that smelled, insistently and unmistakably, of sewage.  And I’m familiar with a rotten smell, as it was like an absolute freaking massacre with everyone getting sick during the first 24 hours.

Service

Slow.  Slow, slow, slow and slow.

Meal service moved at the pace of constipation.  I asked to see some of the residences, sat waiting for twenty minutes, and gave up.  Turndown arrived just before 9pm, by which point we had turned ourselves down.  On departure, getting the luggage out took the better part of an hour.

And yet — and this genuinely surprised me — the people are lovely.  I had assumed a certain Frenchness would render everyone total dicks.  Instead they were warm, kind and unhurried, that last one being both the charm and the entire problem.  Housekeeping wasn’t in fine form though, cos after said sickness, they did a Razzie Awards version of cleaning, as the bath was left stained with sick for a few days.  Hey, you come here for the truthful review, you get it, shit, sick and all.

The room setup was actually alright.  They got almost all of it right, other than putting a cot in a room where the instruction specifically said not to put a cot.A few snacks.  And one soft toy…for two children.  Welcome to paradise; enjoy your civil war.

Food

Breakfast is my favourite meal of the day.  I look forward to it more than almost anything else in life.  And they ruined it.  Yes, it’s fair to say, One&Only ruined my entire life.

Served at La Terrasse, it is a buffet with a very small à la carte offering that read like an apology.  But what are they sorry for?  Let’s pray both, so that it’s not incompetence, it’s malice.

Breakfast was busy, careless, and service was so absent, they created their own form of self-service called no-service.  Who said innovation is dead?  The most sustained attention I received came from the flies.  I had to queue for yoghurt, because the yoghurt was behind a counter, guarded like state secrets.  The pastries were mercifully rubbish, so at least my waistline was spared.  Even the children retreated to cereal, and my children would eat a croissant off the floor of a bus station.  You know when you see pictures of food and it makes you feel hungry?  Here?  Whatever the opposite of that is.  Save your Ozempic, just go here.

And then there’s the pastry chef.  In most hotels, the pastry chef does a lap of the room with visible pride, accepting compliments like royalty.  Here, watching the poor man walk the floor felt like observing a punishment; the walk of shame.  A dunce hat was the appropriate attire.

Elsewhere, the picture improves.  Prime, the steak restaurant, was a solid dinner and the one meal I’d repeat.  Le Badamier does Mauritian cuisine.  L’Artisan handles afternoon sweets.  Riva does southern Italian by the pool.  La Pointe serves lunch at the far end of the property, and I could not tell you a single thing that appeared on the table there, because we were all shitting vomit from our eyes.  Every one of us.  Henceforth known as the Mauritius Massacre.

In-room dining, given the sheer number of kitchens on this property, is surprisingly poor and surprisingly limited.

Kids Friendly

The kids club runs from 9 am to 10 pm, and there’s some sort of party at 8 pm every night.  I will be fair: well, bloody played.  Imagine the life of the people working in there?  Whilst I’m not complaining, surely there’s laws against someone having to spend 13 hours around someone else’s children?

Under-fives eat free and there’s a Family Room for the 0-3s, the main club from three upwards, and a TweensOnly space, which, for reasons known only to god and a bottle of vodka, is also where the servers live, making a right racket next to the children.

The indoor club is properly large.  Outside there’s a playground with a trampoline, a sandpit, a slide and some climbing apparatus, plus a splash area that may be the worst I have ever seen.  It’s nothing exceptional, but it’s better than most.  There’s also OneTribe, a cinema and games room with a DJ deck.

You can rent bikes for free, on a first-come, first-served basis, but they only had two for the kids.  Then I had to sign for them twice, when I came back to try again for the kids to use them.  Pointless paperwork, but expected at this point.

The Good

• Gym
• Spa
• Ducks

The Bad

• Service
• Blocks of rooms
• My beloved breakfast
• Maintenance issues

The Luxurious

• A Brunello Cucinelli boutique, mostly because of how absurd it is

Conclusion

Far, far better than I expected, and still nowhere near “you must come here”.  It does everything it needs to, and then a little more, and never quite enough.  It’s like wearing an already used condom.  Technically still a condom, but not really ideal.

Take the spa: lovely entrance, sauna and steam in both changing rooms, that gorgeous heated outdoor pool.  But the rest of the property has this Four Seasons Punta Mita concrete quality to the whole place, like it’s some upper mid-market mass-produced product.   I spent the week comparing it to Cheval Blanc Seychelles, a property I did not love, and next to this one it felt like discovering God.

Still, I don’t think this is a terrible resort.  Certainly not one I’d recommend, though, to you, to my friends, nor my enemies (yes, you, reading this).  The grounds are well maintained, and it’s very child-friendly, but there’s nothing exceptional about it, except perhaps how random it is to have a Brunello Cucinelli boutique here.  There are wires hanging precariously near the water by the pools, the feel of sand and grime in other pools, inadequate service and rubbish food.  I could go on.  It’s good for children, and there are people here who genuinely care.  I wouldn’t return.  I wouldn’t recommend it.

It’s a resort for people who don’t yet know any better.