Escape to Paradise: Your Dream Pool Home in Coubjours Saint Robert Awaits!
Escape to Paradise… Or Did I Just Wander Into a Very Nice Pool? A Review of Coubjours Saint Robert's "Dream Pool Home" (Gotta Love Those Names!)
Alright, so, here we go. "Escape to Paradise: Your Dream Pool Home in Coubjours Saint Robert Awaits!"… That title is a mouthful, isn't it? Makes you instantly think of a pristine beach and a mai tai in hand. Well, let's just say my reality check involved a slightly less pristine road and a rapidly dwindling phone battery. But hey, Coubjours Saint Robert, sounds fancy, right? Let's dive in (pun intended, brace yourselves for many more).
Accessibility & The Great Stairs Showdown:
Okay, first hurdle: Accessibility. This is important, people! I'm not wheelchair-bound myself, but I always think about it. And, well, "Dream Pool Home" has a few… challenges. While the elevators are a godsend, maneuvering around felt like a slightly more elegant version of a stair-climbing competition. There were lots of stairs. So, while they say "Facilities for disabled guests", I'd recommend calling ahead and getting the lowdown on specific room recommendations if you need truly easy access. Just, a head's up.
The Pool: The Promised Land (and My Personal Mini-Drama):
The Swimming pool… Oh, the pool. This is where the dream part might kick in. It's a stunner. Pool with view? Absolutely. You kinda forget about the journey the second you're in. The water shimmers, the sun hits just right… pure bliss. Except, let's just rewind for a second. First impressions? Stunning. Feeling? Euphoric. But then, disaster.
So, I'm lounging (literally) on a sunbed, trying to soak in the serenity, feeling like a proper baller, sipping my complimentary bottle of water (bless them! Hydration is key, especially after those stairs), when… sploosh! My phone. Right into the pool. My heart nearly stopped. Cue frantic paddling, a slightly undignified dive, and me, dripping and defeated, holding a waterlogged device. This is not what brochures call a "tranquil escape."
(Okay, deep breaths. It happens. Moving on…)
The good news? The rescue squad (they all looked trained, this gave me a bit more faith in safety) helped me out, but the phone? Toast. Lesson learned: Put your phone somewhere safe. Or, you know, don’t be me.
Cleanliness & Safety (Because We Need That Now):
Okay, let's talk serious stuff. Cleanliness and safety: These are paramount these days, and "Dream Pool Home" seems to be taking it seriously. They have all the usual boxes ticked: Anti-viral cleaning products, Daily disinfection in common areas, Hand sanitizer galore. I also appreciated that the staff seemed genuinely committed to following safety protocols, which is always reassuring. I did notice Room sanitization as well as Rooms sanitized between stays, and that's a big win. They have a first aid kit and a doctor/nurse on call which is a good thing. Felt like I am in a safe place. Also, the fact that they offer a Cashless payment service made things a little smoother.
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking (Fueling the Adventure… and My Despair):
The Restaurants: I’m a foodie, okay? I live to eat! The promised culinary delights were, well, variable. The Breakfast [buffet] was good, I'll give it that. Asian breakfast, Western breakfast - options galore! But I really wanted to try their Asian fusion because it was in my mind. If I recall, it turned out bland. The restaurants had a certain feel of uninspiredness, which was disappointing. One evening I went there, expecting greatness. I looked at the menu with promises of flavors. Instead, even the most basic salad in restaurant did not meet expectations. Bottle of water for the win again.
The Poolside bar was a savior, especially after the phone debacle. A classic combo of cocktails and sympathy from the bar staff. And the Coffee shop was cute and conveniently placed.
Things to Do & Ways to Relax (Beyond the Pool of Doom):
Aside from my pool-related trauma, there are other things to do. Body scrub, Body wrap, you name it. There's also a Fitness center if you're into that sort of thing (Gym/fitness), Sauna and a Spa. I'm more of a "take a nap" kind of person, but they seem to have options for different needs. I did try the massage, and it was actually excellent. A little bit of well-deserved relaxation.
Services and Conveniences (The Little Things That Matter):
They have all the basics: Concierge, Daily housekeeping (thank goodness), Laundry service (needed after my aquatic incident), Luggage storage. Air conditioning in public area (essential). There’s also a convenience store for those essential emergency snacks. The Internet access was reliable, and the Free Wi-Fi in all rooms! saved me from being totally cut off from the world after my phone death.
The Room: My Little Sanctuary (Eventually):
Okay, eventually, they calmed me down and put me in a lovely room. It was an upgrade, in a weird way. Non-smoking rooms, of course. Air conditioning (thank goodness). Blackout curtains (amazing!). The room was, generally, well-appointed. Free bottled water (I was getting very thirsty by this point…). They had Bathrobes, slippers. Good quality towels and toiletries, I do love a hotel that does the basics well! The bed was comfortable. Everything was clean (phew!). Overall, my room was a haven from the minor chaos of my stay.
For the Kids (Not Really My Area, But…):
They boast Kids facilities, and babysitting services. They also have Family/child friendly which always sounds nice, though I didn’t personally experience any family-centric activities.
The Verdict (After the Phone Meltdown):
Would I go back to "Escape to Paradise: Your Dream Pool Home in Coubjours Saint Robert Awaits!"? Honestly? It depends. If they promised me a phone-proof pool and a year's supply of complimentary cocktails, maybe. It's a beautiful place with some definite pros. But the uneven experience and the whole phone-in-the-pool situation? Well, it definitely added a layer of… adventure to my stay. So, approach with realistic expectations, pack a waterproof phone case, and maybe, just maybe, you'll actually escape to paradise. Or at least find some nice pool.
Beachfront Bliss: Soustons Apartment w/ Dishwasher!
Alright, buckle up buttercups, because this ain't your grandma's perfectly polished travelogue. We're heading to a holiday home in Coubjours-Saint-Robert, France, with a freakin' POOL. Prepare for a glorious mess of a trip.
Day 1: Arrival and Existential Dread (the good kind)
- Morning (8:00 AM -ish): Wake up feeling like I can conquer the world, and then remember I’m allergic to airplane cheese. Debriefing.
- Flight from (Wherever You're Coming From): Oh man, the flight. Let's just say I witnessed a toddler attempt to scale the seat in front of me, while simultaneously trying to build a tower out of pretzels and their own spit. Artistic! The plane was late; I'm already grumpy. But those clouds… damn, those clouds. So fluffy. So utterly… indifferent to my anxieties. Existential dread, in a good way.
- Afternoon (Roughly 3:00 PM -ish): Arrival at Bergerac Airport. Immigration was a breeze. Thank god. Rent a car (Renault, predictably). The sat nav gets me all the way to the house and then gives up, because reasons.
- Late Afternoon (4:30 PM): The house! Holy. Freakin'. Cow. Pictures do NOT do it justice. Stone walls, shutters, a courtyard, and that pool. I swear I could feel my shoulders drop. My jaw is on the flagstones. I’m instantly convinced I’m living in a postcard and that this is all a very elaborate, beautiful dream, that is going to abruptly end when I run out of money and have to move back to my tiny apartment.
- Unpacking (5:30 PM): I immediately get lost trying to find the kitchen. The place is huge. I then realise I need to go to the supermarket, and I forgot to buy a shopping bag.
- Evening (7:00 PM): Grocery Shopping in the nearby village. I've been practicing my French, but I'm pretty sure I just asked the butcher if they had any "talking chickens". I ended up with a baguette so hard it could double as a weapon, and some cheese that smells like… well, like France.
- Evening (8:30 PM): Splashing in The Pool. Ahhhh. This is what heaven is, right? This is the good life, for sure. The water is cold, but in the best way. I’m sure to be sitting in the pool for hours thinking about the next day.
Day 2: Castle Hopping, and Existential Dread (the stressful kind)
- Morning (9:00 AM): Coffee on the patio. The sun is glorious, the birds are chirping, and I have a sudden, overwhelming urge to… do absolutely nothing. But of course, I have plans. Ambitious, even.
- Morning (10:00 AM - 12:00 PM): Driving. Visit a castle. First attempt: Château de Hautefort. Gorgeous, of course, but teeming with tourists. I’m not good with crowds. I spend more time avoiding a gaggle of screaming children than actually appreciating the architecture. Then, a classic move: I walk into a room and discover it’s the wrong room. Oops.
- Lunch (1 PM): Back in the car, to find somewhere for lunch. I'm starving. We find a restaurant in a tiny village. The waiter doesn't speak a word of English, and I manage to order…something involving duck confit. It's delicious, but I’m pretty sure I just ate my entire calorie intake for the week.
- Afternoon (2 PM): I get the urge to see another castle, and go to the Château de Losse. I actually buy the tickets and make it to the castle. It's lovely, but the constant feeling of "tourist" haunts me again. I also find myself becoming increasingly aware of my own mortality. I wonder if I will ever be able to truly appreciate the history.
- Late Afternoon (4:00 PM): Back at the house, I collapse in the pool. I spend about an hour in the water, thinking about all the meaninglessness of everything. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.
- Evening (7:00 PM): Dinner. Cook something simple and fail. Then I eat almost a whole cheese wheel and a bottle of wine. I need this.
- Evening (9:00 PM): Stargazing. The sky here is unbelievable. I swear I can see every single freaking star. I feel a sense of wonder. And a mild sense of panic about the vastness of the universe. I might need another glass of wine.
Day 3: The Périgord Noir, and the Quest for Perfect Light, The Truth About Sunburn
- Morning (9:00 AM): My muscles ache from the previous two days. Another glorious day, though. I feel like a real French holiday-maker.
- Late Morning (10:00 AM - 12:00 PM): Trip to Sarlat-la-Canéda. A UNESCO world heritage site. It's beautiful and the architecture is stunning. But. The light! Oh. My. God. The way the sunlight hits the stone buildings… I’m seriously considering quitting my job and becoming a landscape painter. Except I can barely draw stick figures. I'm also obsessed with the sun. And I'm starting to feel a little red.
- Afternoon (1:00 PM - 4:00 PM): I decide to drive along the Dordogne River. The scenery is the best. I find a spot to take photos. I take 200 photos of the same bridge. I'm getting sunburnt.
- Late Afternoon (5:00 PM): I return to the house and realize just how sunburnt I am. My skin is on fire. I’ve forgotten the sunscreen. I apply the aloe vera I bought (I’m sure the brand is the best), and consider that maybe it's not all that bad.
- Evening (7:00 PM): Dinner. I keep ordering food in restaurants that don't have air conditioning, and the only thing that alleviates the burn is ice cold wine.
- Evening (9:00 PM): Swim in The Pool. It burns! I consider my life choices.
Day 4: Rest and Maybe More Cheese
- Morning: Rest in bed until the throbbing in my sunburned skin subsides.
- Afternoon: I will probably do absolutely nothing. This is a very important part of the trip. I might, just maybe, eat some more cheese. The good life.
Day 5: Departure
- Morning: Wake up with a newfound appreciation for sunscreen. Pack. Cry (internal, mostly).
- Flight: The flight is delayed, the plane stinks, and I don't want to go home.
- Back to reality
This, my friends, is the truth about holidays. Utter chaos, moments of pure bliss, existential crises, and a whole lot of cheese. Coubjours-Saint-Robert, you magnificent, messy, wonderful place. I'll be back.
Escape to Paradise: Your Cosy Isigny-sur-Mer Terrace Awaits!
So, You're Thinking About Escaping to Paradise... In Coubjours Saint Robert? Let's Get Real! FAQs (Because Let's Be Honest, Finding a Pool Home Isn't Always Sunshine and Rainbows...)
Okay, "Escape to Paradise" sounds dreamy... but what *is* Coubjours Saint Robert, exactly? I've never even heard of it! Am I going to be living in a giant cow pasture? (No offense to cows, I just... like Wi-Fi).
Alright, first things first: deep breaths. Coubjours Saint Robert is this teeny-tiny, utterly charming village in the Dordogne region of France. Think cobblestone streets, houses with impossibly cute flower boxes, and, yes, *more* cows than you're probably used to. But don't freak out about the cow pasture thing! I lived in a town with more cows than people, and I made it. The Wi-Fi situation is surprisingly good, now! It used to be spotty, you know, like trying to catch a wisp of a dream. But things are changing.
Anecdote time: My first trip there, I was envisioning Parisian bistros and glamorous evenings. Nope. More like, stumbling upon a local market where I bought a wheel of cheese so pungent it almost brought me to tears (in a good way, I swear!). And the pace of life? It’s *slow*. Like, "snail watching a flower bloom" slow. Embrace it. You will thank me later. Just make sure you can, ya know, survive off baguettes, cheese and the occasional internet outage to keep you sane.
The pool! Is this pool big enough to, like... actually *swim* in? I'm not talking a kiddie pool situation here. I want to do laps! And can I skinny dip? Asking for a friend...
Right, the pool! Okay, listen. The pool is… good. Maybe. Probably. Look, I've seen the pictures. They look promising. They *always* look promising. And let's be honest, marketing is a beautiful, lies-filled art form, isn't it? I'm going to guess you can swim in it. Laps might be pushing it depending on the exact dimensions. (Always ask for those details!) As for the skinny dipping… Well, let’s just say if you follow the rules and don't annoy your neighbors (who, by the way, might be peering over their hedge with binoculars), you *might* get away with it. Just, you know, be discreet. And don't blame me when the gendarmes show up.
Quirky observation: The French are wonderfully relaxed about… well, a lot of things. But privacy? They value that. So respect it. Also, remember the sun can get *fierce* there, so sunscreen is your best friend, skinny dipping or not. And a hat. And maybe a floatie if you're not a strong swimmer. And a bottle of rosé. Okay, now I'm just rambling.
What's the weather like? I’m from [Insert place with extreme weather here] and I need sunshine! And is it freezing in January and will I need a snow shovel? (I *hate* shoveling snow.)
The weather? Ah, the weather. Generally, it's lovely. Summers are hot and sunny, perfect for poolside lounging and sipping pastis. But! (And there's always a "but," isn't there?) Spring and fall are glorious, with mild temperatures and stunning scenery. You'll have those mornings, where the sun is just a little too bright. But, it’s *nothing* like [Insert place with extreme weather here!]. January? Yes, it can get chilly. Think European chilly. Snow? Possibly. Snow shovel? Probably not. Unless you get *really* unlucky.
Emotional reaction: I miss the warmth. No, I am SO glad I left [Insert place with extreme weather here!]. But oh my god, will I ever get to be a person who hates snow? Probably not. My soul is forever scarred by winter. Just pack layers and be prepared for unpredictable weather. You'll be fine. It can be freezing or warm, you never know.
Can I get pizza delivered? (Important question!) And what about groceries? Are there grocery stores within walking distance, or am I going to need a car? (I don't have a car...)
Pizza delivery? Hah! Bless your heart. Look, you're in France. Forget pizza delivery. Embrace the baguette! (Seriously, a good baguette is a life-changer). Grocery stores? Probably not walking distance. You'll most likely need a car. The closest market might be a bit of a drive. That said, I once survived a week in a tiny French village with a bicycle and a serious reliance on the local boulangerie for bread and pastry. It's possible. It's just going to be… an adventure. Which, let's face it, is the whole point, right?
Messy structure, occasional rambles: My first shopping experience there was...memorable. I forgot the French word for "eggs." Spent twenty minutes miming a chicken laying an egg. The shopkeeper, bless her, just looked at me with amused bewilderment and then, eventually, pointed to the eggs. It’s a learning curve, people. Don't be afraid to ask for help (even if you have to cluck like a chicken). Also, find out where to get the regional foods... You will love how it changes your life.
Are there any good restaurants nearby? Because I'm not trying to live on baguettes and cheese *every* night, brilliant as they are...
Restaurants! Yes! There *should* be restaurants. The Dordogne is known for its food, especially. The specifics of restaurants near *this specific property*? Well, you’ll need to ask the host and do your research. But expect some charming, authentic French establishments. Think family-run places with menus handwritten in French (and perhaps a little English if you're lucky). Food is life.
Stronger emotional reaction: OMG, the food. The *food*! I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. The duck confit! The foie gras! The truffles! Okay, I need to stop before I book the next flight. Seriously, the food is amazing. *Worth the trip alone*. Just make sure you're ready for rich, delicious, and possibly heart-stoppingly good meals. And pace yourself! (I never do.)
What about the neighbors? Will they be nosy and complain about everything? I want peace and quiet! I'm a light sleeper.
Neighbors? Ah, the eternal question. French neighbors are generally… neighborly. But every situation varies. Some will be chatty and welcoming. Others will keep to themselves. Some might speak English, some might not. Be polite. Introduce yourself (even if it's just with a clumsy "Bonjour!"). Respect their space. And for the love of all that is holy, don't blast your music at 3 AM.
More opinionated language and natural pacing: Look, here’s the deal. Loud tourists are not generally welcome. Be mindful of your noise levels.Luxury Stay Blog
