The Sanchaya
The star of the Southeast in Bintan, Indonesia.
Mr & Mrs Smith
Mr Smith and I have one objective for this weekend away: relaxation. As frequent travellers, we were drawn to The Sanchaya in Indonesia for its proximity to our home in Singapore—it’s a quick 50-minute ferry ride to the resort on Bintan Island, which meant we wouldn’t need to fly anywhere. No jetlag or lengthy immigration queues required. What we didn’t realise was that as guests of The Sanchaya, we’d skip those queues all together.
On arrival at the ferry terminal in Bintan, a representative from the resort awaits us with the requisite signboard, before whisking us through a VIP bag check, and into The Sanchaya’s elegant private lounge inside the terminal. A wet towel and cup of tea are offered as a smiling staff member disappears with our passports—I later realise she was clearing immigration on our behalf, and checking us into the resort. Then, we’re ushered out of the terminal via a discreet side door, and into a waiting hotel car. The whole process is over in less than five minutes. I raise an eyebrow. “This must be what it’s like to be famous,” says Mr Smith.
But we ain’t seen nothin’ yet. At the resort—just beyond the giant white pineapple installation by Southeast Asian artist Kumari Nahappan—we receive a rock star’s welcome from five staff members, who greet Mr Smith and I by name. We down a welcome shot—think: a rock-star-on-detox blend of pineapple and orange juice—before being led on a tour of the property, which feels more like the sprawling estate of a wealthy, well-travelled friend, than a resort. Palm trees border the 50-metre infinity pool, which serves as an inviting dividing line between the resort’s colonnaded main buildings and the long stretch of sand that makes up the beachfront.
After surveying the restaurants and library, the well-curated boutique—smaller replicas of Nahappan’s pineapple, among resort wear and other items, are available for purchase—gym and spa, we reach a two-storey abode, the top level of which is ours for the next two nights. While celebrities may be used to the penthouse, Mr Smith and I had opted for an entry-level Junior Suite comprised of a bedroom, bathroom and 20m² private terrace. However a few weeks earlier, The Sanchaya team had emailed to ask if we were celebrating a special occasion, and as it happened, Mr Smith and I were marking 10 years together. You can see where this is headed. We are upgraded to a spacious Sanchaya Suite nearly double the size of the Junior, with the added bonus of a living room.
The décor is a sophisticated melange of dark wood furniture, parquetry floors, white drapery and Egyptian cotton linens, punctuated by Southeast accents such as framed textiles and maps of the region. The rooms are so beautifully appointed, Mr Smith and I start photographing corners as inspiration for an upcoming renovation we are planning. But the pièce de résistance is the bathroom. Handmade ceramic tiles lead to the room’s centrepiece, a Lefroy Brooks claw-foot bathtub, which is stocked with fragrant Aesop toiletries in combinations such as orange rind and pink grapefruit, or bergamot mint, cedarwood and lavender.
Smelling like we’ve had a romp through a herb garden, Mr Smith and I arrive at the open-air yoga deck just before 8.30am the next morning for a complimentary hatha class. A warm, salty breeze dances around us as we move through downward facing dogs and into tree poses. Feeling limber and energised, we float to The Dining Room for breakfast on the veranda, where the unhurried service allows us to linger over the view of the pool and ocean. However the petite serving size of an otherwise lovely bubur ayam (rice congee with shredded chicken) sends me to the buffet to fill up on pastries and fresh fruit.
Unfortunately, the saying “When in Rome…” falls a little short at The Dining Room. When Mr Smith and I order Indonesian favourites sate campur (beef, lamb and chicken satay skewers) and rendang minang (beef rendang) from what is a menu of predominantly Western fare, we are underwhelmed by both the quality of the ingredients and the flavours of the dishes. However, the open-air Thai Tasanee Grill at the end of the pool better meets expectations of a resort of this calibre, so it’s a shame it only opens for dinner. Our tip: order the moreish tod mun khao pod (crispy fried corn cake with mango sweet chilli dip).
In between meals, The Sanchaya offers an extensive list of activities, from croquet and stand-up paddle boarding to wine tastings or boat tours of the nearby mangroves. However, the lure of the infinity pool is too strong, and Mr Smith and I succumb to two lounge chairs under an umbrella. While we had planned to swim at the beach, we were dissuaded by a note in our room that warned of oil and tar washing up on the shore. But when a pool attendant delivers a picnic basket containing two glass bottles of still and sparkling water, sunscreen, after-sun lotion and the cocktail menu, our decision to spend the day poolside is reaffirmed. Regrets? We have none.
We leave only when our spa appointment beckons. In the serene confines of a wooden hut, surrounded by tropical gardens, we choose from six customised chakra massage oils, before being kneaded into blissful oblivion in the traditional Balinese style. Living in Southeast Asia, Mr Smith and I know a good Balinese massage from a bad one. The Sanchaya’s was the best we’ve experienced anywhere. Relaxed? We are 50 minutes from Singapore, and a world away from cares.
This hotel review originally appeared on Mr & Mrs Smith in 2019.