Hotel review: Kaya Mawa, Lake Malawi

21 May 2017 - 02:00 By Fiona Bruce
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Kaya Mawa is a resort that works around its guests, not the other way around.
Kaya Mawa is a resort that works around its guests, not the other way around.
Image: Kayamawa.com

This luxury resort on Likoma Island, Lake Malawi, is an exercise in harmony, writes Fiona Bruce

When I arrived at Kaya Mawa, I knew I had found my piece of heaven. A dozen grass-fringed lodges were wedged between boulders and baobab trees, overlooking a smooth crescent of sand lapped by Lake Malawi, brilliant blue and clear as glass.

I wasn't so sure about how our children - Sam and Mia, 14 and 10 respectively - would feel about Likoma Island. With no television and no obvious kids' activities, it looked suspiciously like a newlyweds' destination, perfect for doing little more than gazing into each other's eyes.

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Kaya Mawa is a resort that works around its guests, not the other way around.

There are no fixed times for anything. If you want breakfast at 2pm, no problem. Don't fancy what's for lunch (though that's unlikely)? Something else will be prepared for you. Head chef Richard Greenhall once trained chefs for Jamie Oliver and is no slouch in the kitchen.

Delicious dinners are eaten on the beach; your table is moved nightly to a different spot, surrounded by lanterns, and you tuck in under the stars. We played Scrabble at the bar every night before dinner - a simple pleasure but the kind of thing we'd never all do together at home.

Every water sport you could wish for is provided. We snorkelled and tried paddle-boarding, strangely Zen once you get the hang of it. We spent hours paddling along the shoreline, past Kaya Mawa's villas tucked back from the beach.

Each is different. I couldn't decide whether the highlight of ours was the four-poster bed, swathed in mosquito netting, the outdoor shower made out of an upturned dugout from which you could watch the sun set, or the private deck and plunge pool.

I paddled to sea past the high-up rock, on which was the thatched pagoda where you could have a massage; past sandy coves with hundreds of fish laid out to dry on wooden platforms. Baobab trees looked like huge hands with stubby fingers thrusting out of the sand. And everywhere, there were massive boulders that had tumbled down the hillsides, hurled through the air by an ancient volcanic explosion.

My fears that the children would be bored turned out to be misplaced. They never once complained.

Mia learnt to wakeboard; I reacquainted myself with monoskiing, though a spectacular fall parted me from my bikini for a few minutes. Everyone kindly averted their eyes while I fished desperately for it in the water. For Sam a real highlight was a fishing trip . Quad biking the length and breadth of tiny Likoma took about four hours and was terrific fun.

In the centre of the island stands the cathedral built by British missionaries in 1903. Every Sunday, 4,000 people, half the island's population, gather to raise the rafters. Our guide here was called Alleluja, just one of a series of fabulous names on the island. The local policeman is called Action, and there is a man whose name translates as "That one over there", as he was the sixth child and his mum had run out of ideas.

After a week on Likoma, I decided my name should be "Blissed Out".- The Daily Telegraph

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