Now in its third decade, the luxury Bahamas getaway is designed to offer a sanitized version of hedonism on a grand scale. I went to see how it lives up to the lore.
Welcome to One Night In, a series about staying in the most unparalleled places available to rest your head.
If I am asked to describe my perfect vacation, the answer is simple: a pool and the beach, a hotel room with brisk A/C, sun, and, above all, an experience in a setting that borders on the ridiculous. Every one I take checks at least two of these boxes, but it can be hard to find a place that does it all—opulence, drama, and a White Lotus experience minus the existential angst and murder. That is, until I went to Atlantis Paradise Island in the Bahamas, a temple dedicated to the arts of water sports (not the sex kind) and aggressive relaxation.
AdvertisementAdvertisement#«R15ekkr8lb2m7nfddbH1» iframeAs legend goes, in May 1994, a South African hotel impresario named Sol Kerzner bought a languishing property on Paradise Island from famed television host Merv Griffin and embarked upon a lightning-fast renovation so that the 1,147-room complex could open in December of the same year. A few years later, Kerzner’s ambition expanded with an $800 million addition that included what the resort’s website says is the world’s largest man-made open-air marine environment.
By 2007, Atlantis had achieved its final form under Kerzner’s ownership: a theme park–esque resort covering around 150 acres of Paradise Island, replete with the bells and whistles that suggest luxury with an aquatic focus—fountains everywhere, marble, lagoons full of sharks. (The resort is now owned by Brookfield Asset Management.) Crucial to its mythology is this: Atlantis is named for the lost island of Atlantis, a mythical city whose only proof of existence lies in the writings of Plato, founded by demigods and rich with abundant natural resources that have allegedly been buried by fires, floods, and earthquakes. Because of this, the hotel has become the subject of much coverage, from a recent New York Times piece that paints a debaucherous (and hilarious) portrait of the resort as a hedonistic spring break destination for wealthy teens to another piece of media that is a large part of its mythology: 2001’s Holiday in the Sun, a straight-to-video movie starring Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. I am too old for the Olsen twins’ work to be formative, and we were not a vacation family growing up, so the only real sense of Atlantis I had was based on a friend’s experience, who said she rode the Lazy River (a misnomer, as I’d soon find out) for literal hours and has never felt anything close to that kind of peace since. Happiness of that scale and duration feels hard to come by these days. Could I find it in Atlantis?
The Royal, one of five hotels within the sprawling complex at Atlantis, resembles a coral reef from some angles and is the beating heart of the resort. Pictured here is a suite in the Cove at Atlantis with an ocean view.
Courtesy Atlantis Paradise Island
Saturday
12:30 p.m.: After a brief flight and drive, I arrived at by far the nicest hotel room I’ve stayed in to date. The resort comprises a collection of five hotels aimed at every price point, though none are cheap. The Cove, where I stayed, is the high-end option, and had my trip not been subsidized by the resort, it would’ve cost me around $700 a night. My room, a suite with an ocean view, was huge, complete with two televisions—one in thesunken living area and one in the bedroom—and a balcony. It had been a long winter. When I saw the view, I screamed with joy.
My first stop was the adults-only pool reserved for guests of the Cove—a Vegasy scene with loud music, what looked like a craps table, and, thankfully, a bar, where I ordered a large glass of Whispering Angel and decompressed. I was gathering my strength for my own personal odyssey: finding the entrance to the Rapids River, a mile-long water attraction that winds a path around Aquaventure, the water park that is Atlantis’s main claim to fame. Eventually, I made it and, temporarily consumed with the urban beachgoer’s fear of theft, paid $20 for a locker to stash my stuff and hopped in a tube, ready to relax.
The mile-long Rapids River is worth every awkward interaction you might have with a stranger.
Courtesy Atlantis Paradise Island
The river’s rapids are punctuated with long stretches of languid calm, where I reclined and looked up at the landscaping meant to suggest an idealized version of paradise, with palm trees and speakers disguised as rocks, blaring songs I recognized from TikTok. Any sense of danger was erased, thanks to the lifeguards, who served as traffic control. When a section of rapids approached and my tube came closer to the drop, one gamely grabbed me and launched me into the fray.
AdvertisementAdvertisement#«R1eekkr8lb2m7nfddbH1» iframe5 p.m.: Sun-tired and a little grumpy due to hunger, I headed out after a shower. The center of the action at Atlantis is the Royal—two massive structures connected by a 5,000-square-foot, two-bedroom suite. Entering the lobby is a singularly overwhelming experience, a riotous tapestry of tired children, weary parents, and many, many teens. The lobby leads to many of the attractions that aren’t water-related—the nightclub, the casino, and the path to Marina Village, which was my destination for the evening.
If you have access to a yacht, it is possible to dock your vessel at Atlantis and then take in the adjacent waterfront mall—a Disneyfied version of the pastel-hued buildings I saw in the car ride to the resort. I enjoyed a conch salad and a beer while sitting on a bench, listening to reggae. I briefly considered a trinket from one of the many shops, but felt too tired to make a decision and, instead, walked the 20-minute journey back to my hotel, where I turned on the TV, cranked up the A/C, and passed out.
In the Atlantis casino, glass artist Dale Chihuly’s massive Temple of the Sun, one of four sculptures Chihuly created for the property, was my lodestar, guiding me toward Marina Village.
Courtesy Atlantis Paradise Island
See the full story on Dwell.com: One Night in Atlantis, the Resort of Mythical Possibility
