Listening to a DJ's set transmitted wirelessly through headphones, so as not to disturb fellow islanders, fits aptly with Palm Island's policy for encouraging peace and relaxation.
Guests of the 54ha resort on the privately-owned island, one of 32 islands and cays in the Grenadines archipelago, are encouraged to literally switch off. Bikes replace cars, and there are no children in this adults-only haven. What's more, you'll find no TVs in the rooms, Wi-Fi is limited, and abandoning smartphones and devices is the order of the day.
Instead, guests are encouraged to sway gently in a hammock strung up between palm trees, or picnic in the turquoise crescent of a deserted cove. The island's main beach even features signs saying, "Sssh, vacations at work".
Palm Island is, as the name suggests, covered in palm trees, and the spacious resort offers excellent hospitality. On my first day, I'm joined at breakfast by George. A little bit ugly but very friendly, he's the largest of the resident iguanas.
George mostly likes to find a comfy spot in the restaurant and bask in the morning sun, and he's developed a taste for toast — we have a lot in common.
During the day, if you're not ensconced on one of the five beaches, being pampered in the spa, or walking one of the nature trails, a day's cruise on the resort's boat is a must.
We're welcomed aboard the sophisticated Yannis catamaran with a glass of champagne before setting sail for the Tobago Cays. Reclining on the mesh stretchers at the bough, I feel like I'm in a Duran Duran video.
Our first port of call is Mayreau, the smallest inhabited island of the Grenadines, where we stop at Saline Bay for a spot of snorkelling. Starfish and sea urchins rest languorously on the ocean floor as black and white striped fish meander above.
But the real highlight of our jaunt has to be Tobago Cays Marine Park, close to the tiny, palm tree-covered island of Petit Tabac - famously used as a location in Pirates Of The Caribbean.
We don snorkels and flippers and start hunting for turtles. Armed with an underwater camera and trying to keep myself poised for action, I apprehensively scan my surroundings.
Minutes later, I'm startled by a round blob — a turtle. At once I'm excited and nervous, as it glides gracefully past me. I'm not sure how close I can get before one of us freaks out. It's not long before another one arrives, and I'm eventually joined by six in total.
As the sun begins to set over the sandbars, we resume our horizontal positions on deck for the journey back to Palm Island, wondering why we can't live here in paradise.
Evenings are spent in bars and restaurants, with special events also held — the weirdest being crab racing.
You get to know staff here by name — Margaret makes a mean cocktail and has some signature "potions" that male guests might want to sample. Antony is a spirited host and has found his calling as compere extraordinaire at the weekly crab-racing contest, while Jimmy is a passionfruit daiquiri maker of the highest order.
But after a hectic day, it's time to savour the quiet life once more. We head for sun loungers, armed with cosy blankets, toasted marshmallows, sweet coconut snacks and headphones — all we need for a silent cinema screening.
We have front-row seats (there are only two rows) to watch Marley — a biopic of Bob Marley's life, on a screen suspended between two Hobie Cat boats.
It's an idyllic setting; shooting stars streak across the clear sky as we dig our toes into soft sand.
In a place like this, silence really is golden.
- PA
