The water is the amenity.
No gym. No lounge. No spa. Two hundred metres of pier and the sea at the end of it, every morning.
No gym. No lounge. No spa. Two hundred metres of pier and the sea at the end of it, every morning.
Every other building on this coast sells you a rooftop pool with a view of the sea. We skipped the pool. The sea is right there, and it's bigger.
Two hundred metres out and back, before breakfast, in salt water. Nobody has asked for a treadmill.
Nineteen degrees this morning, twenty-two by August. A ladder at each end of the pier. No lanes.
Teak, two hundred metres of it, and whatever chair you carry out. The lounge is wherever the light is.
High water at seven, mist until eight, and a kettle. We couldn't improve on it, so we didn't try.
Other buildings look at the water.
Ours are standing in it.
The pier carries the building; the building carries nothing else. Every residence has water on at least two sides, a sliding wall to a deck, and a ladder within sixty metres of the front door. The end unit has three sides of sea and the sunrise.