At Kokomo resort, in Fiji, there’s a manta ray tagging programme. “Guests can even name a manta if they spot a new one,” writes Juliette Sivertsen.
Juliette Sivertsen experiences pampering, yoga and really big fish at Kokomo luxury resort, in Fiji
“Tulou, tulou,” Maria chants as she runs her fingers delicately over my scalp. Her touch has a kind of softness that feels warm and familiar but also respectful. For the past hour, Maria has been gently kneading two warm acrylic sea shells, filled with a healing potion of algae and minerals, into the tender parts of my back. She excuses herself before caressing my head.
In Fijian culture, the head is a sacred part of the body, and should not be touched without permission. Maria whispers the word “tulou” to pardon her for touching my scalp.
She is well and truly excused; her massage movements are an analgesic to every lingering strain in my body. These 75 minutes of an utterly indulgent spa treatment are devoted entirely to my wellbeing. Someone else is taking care of me.
And yet, at the end of the massage, it is Maria who thanks me, with the utmost reverence. “Thank you for letting me give you this massage,” she says, clapping three times. “Thank you for letting me touch your body.”
At Fiji’s Kokomo Private Island, it seems everyone wants to take care of me. Not just in a let-me-show-you-great-Fijian-hospitality way, but in a genuine, personalised experience.
And so it should be, as guests are forking out at least US$3000 per night to stay in a secluded one-bedroom villa, with a private infinity pool, direct beach access, landscaped garden and a golf buggy to take you from door to door, or in this case, beachfront to beachfront.
That price tag rises to US$14000 a night for the six-bedroom luxury residence atop the island with floor to ceiling windows, sweeping ocean vistas, an expansive deck, a dedicated nanny for the kids and a butler.
It’s not difficult to see why Kokomo is Fiji’s most exclusive private island. While not to be confused with the Kokomo made famous by the Beach Boys, the lyrics of the song remain relevant — a place you go when you want to get away from it all.
For some, the luxury is in the arrival by either private seaplane or helicopter. Maybe it’s the bottle of Tattinger in an ice bucket and artisan chocolates in your villa on arrival. Or the ocean views from your bed, the sunken stone bath or maybe the walk-through wardrobe that puts Carrie Bradshaw’s robe from Sex in the City to shame.
But for me, the luxury lies in the bespoke service at Kokomo and the overwhelming sense of being cared for, and that I’m special. It goes beyond exceptional hospitality and is a tailormade escape. Kokomo sends a questionnaire to prospective guests to find out their interests and preferences, and creates a holiday that fits their needs perfectly.
I mention to staff I enjoy fishing, but have never caught anything bigger than a 27cm snapper. The next day, I’m picked up at dawn by legendary fishing expert Jaga Crossingham and his luxury game fishing boat, a Riviera 4000 with a custom-built tower. This is the man who tells me of the seven dogtooth tuna caught around the world weighing over 90kg, he’s caught three of them.
And he’s helping me, an amateur who still squirms putting bait on a hook, to reel in tuna and spanish mackerel that the chef later cooks up for my dinner. In Kokomo, I feel like I’m winning at life and the staff are all there to celebrate with me. Even the snacks on the boats are luxurious — beautifully presented boxes with toasted nuts, crostini, fruit slices and homemade biscuits, all in their own little compartments.
The team at Kokomo know I’m a scuba diver, so another day I’m out diving the vibrant and thriving underwater world around the Kadavu Islands. Later, the resort’s resident marine biologist, Cliona O’Flaherty, takes me for a private snorkel tour to see turtles and her coral restoration project. She teaches me about the resort’s manta ray tagging programme, as the region is home to many of Fiji’s manta population. Guests can even name a manta if they spot a new one.
“We email them when we see their manta ray or have any updates,” says Cliona. “One of our manta rays, Butterfly, is pregnant, so we keep them updated and it gives them a personal touch and makes them care about it.” Cliona has won sustainability awards for her conservation efforts at Kokomo, particularly her coral restoration project. Guests can also plant their own coral, and are sent photos of its progress.
“When you get people connected at a personal level, they remember it.” These marine initiatives seem to anchor visitors to the island in a beautiful cycle of continuous care. Guests caring for the planet, just like staff care for the guests. Every living creature here has someone taking care of them.
The personal and bespoke service is most noticeable dining al fresco at the resort’s beachside restaurant, Walker d’Plank (say it aloud). Caroline Oakley is the head chef. She has no menu. She’s never travelled out of Fiji but the meals she prepares are influenced from
all over the world.
“Thank God for Google,” she laughs. When I sit down to lunch, Caroline comes out from the kitchen, shakes my hand, asks for my name, where I’m from and what kind of food I like.
Within a couple of minutes, she’s come up with a custom-designed dish of fresh fish on a bed of greens with a hint of chilli — and it’s exactly what I feel like. “I try to make sure they can feel the love in the food they eat,” Caroline tells me.
“The main thing is to get to know the guests. How can you cook for them if you don’t know them?” Caroline’s philosophy extends throughout the resort — don’t give guests what you think they want, create something you know they will love. “When you leave, you don’t feel like a guest, you leave like family.”
And she’s right. By the time it comes for me to depart on Kokomo’s private seaplane at sunset, I feel sad to say goodbye to all those who have taken care of me during my stay. Two other guests are leaving on the same plane and the three of us are given a seat outside to hear the staff sing the traditional Fijian farewell song Isa Lei to us.
Cliona, Maria and Caroline are there, as are Kokomo’s head honchos and all those who contributed to my stay in some way, making eye contact and smiling as they sing with gusto. The harmonies get to me and I wipe away a sneaky tear from my eye before walking out on the jetty to my awaiting seaplane.