Land of PLENTY

Have you ever heard a frog’s whistle? It’s made up of two notes, the second slightly longer and higher than the first. I’d describe it as a chirpy ‘ger-leep’.

And when thousands upon thousands of whistling frogs start ger-leeping from damp hiding places in the early evening — making great bubblegum blows with their throat pouches in a chorus that seems to swell by the minute — they sound like a mass rally of penny-whistle players.

It’s fabulous. And, now the sun has set, the weather is ratcheting up the atmosphere further. Rain drums mercilessly on the iron-clad roof and dashes itself into a fine mist on the wooden railings of the veranda. Lightning jags across the night sky, and in that neon-lit fraction of a second, I see rain draping a grey shawl over the bay and across the silhouette of the mountains. Then darkness rushes back and thunder rolls like the deep, long growl of some celestial guard dog behind the sky, deeper and longer than any thunder I’ve ever heard before.

It’s particularly fabulous because my room, high on a ridge at the Ladera Resort, has no windows. Or, indeed, a front wall. This is ‘open concept’ accommodation, the sleeping area running seamlessly into the veranda and out to the natural world beyond. There are plenty of luxuries — bespoke furniture has been carved by the resort’s team of carpenters, there’s a private plunge pool and even a mobile phone to reach a personal butler should I need him — but they aren’t a cocoon. Lying beneath the mosquito net of my four-poster bed, I watch and listen and drift off to sleep. The frogs keep calling, like pipers on a battlefield.

It’s a dramatic first night, but then