Six years ago, I sat in a plastic chair at the Miami International Airport for eleven hours because I’m an idiot who forgot his passport on the kitchen counter in Chicago. I spent $14 on a bottle of Evian and cried a little bit near a Sbarro. When I finally made it to Providenciales the next day, I was so exhausted I fell asleep on the floor of the taxi. That was my first introduction to the ‘best luxury resorts turks and caicos’ scene, and honestly? It’s been a love-hate relationship ever since. Most travel writers will tell you every beach is ‘pristine’ and every staff member is ‘attentive,’ but they’re usually getting paid to say that. I’m not. I’m just a guy who works a 9-to-5 and spends way too much of his disposable income on overpriced rum punches.
The Amanyara problem
I’m going to start with a take that usually gets me yelled at in travel forums: Amanyara is weird. I know, I know—it’s the pinnacle of luxury. It’s where the celebrities go to hide. But here’s the thing: Amanyara feels like a high-end funeral home where you happen to be allowed to swim. It is so quiet that I felt guilty for sneezing. If you want to spend $3,000 a night to feel like you’re in a silent retreat for people with very expensive linen pants, go for it. But for me? It’s too detached. You’re out in the middle of nowhere, away from the actual life of the island. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. It’s a masterpiece of architecture, but it has the soul of a refrigerated cucumber. I stayed there once for a 40th birthday, and by day three, I was literally praying for someone to play some loud music or drop a plate. Anything to break the silence.
The service is perfect, but it’s the kind of perfect that makes you feel like you’re being watched by very polite ghosts.
Grace Bay is a zoo, but I love it anyway
Most people will tell you to avoid the main strip of Grace Bay because it’s crowded. Those people are wrong. Yes, there are more people, but that’s where the energy is. I’ve stayed at Grace Bay Club three times now. I’ve bought the same $28 club sandwich every single time. I don’t care if it’s overpriced; it’s the best damn sandwich on the island. I actually tracked my wait time for that sandwich over four visits: average wait time was 42 minutes. That is objectively terrible service for a five-star resort, but I keep going back. Why? Because the beach there is actually better than the private coves. I know people will disagree and say the sand at Long Bay is better, but those people clearly enjoy having the wind slap them in the face like a lukewarm wet towel for six hours a day. Long Bay is for kite surfers. Grace Bay is for people who want to float in water that looks like blue Gatorade without getting a face full of sand.
- Grace Bay Club: Best for people who actually want to see other humans.
- Wymara: Great if you want a South Beach vibe, but the music by the pool is always a little too loud for 10:00 AM.
- The Palms: Honestly, it’s fine. It’s just fine. A bit ‘grandma’s house’ but with better towels.
I used to think that the more expensive the resort, the better the experience. I was completely wrong. In Turks, you’re mostly paying for the square footage of your room and how many people are between you and the water. At Wymara, the rooms are sleek and white and make you feel like you’re living in a futuristic lab. It’s cool, but one time I tripped over a very expensive-looking glass coffee table and almost took out my front teeth. Luxury is dangerous.
The part nobody talks about (The Shore Club)
I refuse to recommend The Shore Club to my friends, even though it’s arguably one of the most beautiful properties on the island. My reason is petty and I don’t care: the wind. It is located on Long Bay, and every time I’ve stepped foot on that property, I’ve felt like I was in a wind tunnel. You can’t keep a hat on. You can’t read a book without the pages turning themselves. It’s annoying. I spent a whole afternoon there trying to look cool by the pool and ended up with a sinus infection from the constant breeze. Total disaster.
Also, the Ritz-Carlton. I’m just going to say it. It looks like a hospital from the outside. It’s this massive, beige block that ruins the skyline of the beach. I don’t care how nice the linens are inside; looking at it from the water makes me sad. It’s corporate luxury at its most boring. If you’re going to fly all the way to the Caribbean, why stay in a building that looks like an insurance company headquarters in Omaha?
I might be wrong about this, but I think the ‘all-inclusive’ thing at Beaches is a scam for parents who have given up. I walked past it once and the sheer volume of screaming children sounded like a battlefield. If you have kids, sure, go ahead. But don’t call it a luxury resort. It’s a glorified daycare with a buffet. Hard pass.
How to actually do this without hating yourself
If you’re going to drop $10k on a week here, you have to be smart. Don’t eat every meal at the resort. Go to the Fish Fry on Thursday nights. Yes, it’s touristy. Yes, the line for rum punch is forty people deep. But it’s the only time you’ll feel like you’re actually in the Caribbean and not in a sanitized bubble designed by a corporate board in New York. I once spent $22 on a ‘local’ lobster curry at a resort that was definitely just frozen shrimp. I’m still mad about it. Go to the hole-in-the-wall places in Blue Hills instead.
The real luxury isn’t the 1,000-thread-count sheets. It’s the fact that the water is so clear you can see your own toes even when you’re chest-deep. You don’t need the $4,000-a-night villa for that. You just need a towel and a rental car that smells slightly like old French fries. Actually, the rental car situation is another rant for another day—just know that if they offer you the ‘upgrade,’ it usually just means the air conditioning works 50% of the time.
I love this island, but it’s a place that will happily take every dollar you have and ask for a tip on top of it. Choose the resort that fits your personality, not the one with the best Instagram feed. If you like people-watching and club sandwiches, go to Grace Bay Club. If you want to pretend you’re a monk who hit the lottery, go to Amanyara. Just don’t forget your passport in Miami. It really ruins the vibe.
Is it actually worth the money? I honestly don’t know anymore. I keep going back, so maybe I’m the problem. Worth every penny.
