It’s not something you can really talk about, but you need to get to a secure location as soon as
possible.
Preferably one with beach access.
Introducing Cap Rocat, a Mediterranean fortress newly renovated into a sun-baked island retreat, taking reservations now.
The building started life as a Spanish military stronghold at the beginning of last century—and if you happen to find yourself under siege, it shouldn’t be too difficult to use that to your advantage. But now, instead of battlements, you’ll find a sunbathing terrace that wouldn’t look out of place in Ibiza—complete with a saltwater infinity pool along the edge—and instead of a barracks, you’ll find a row of mortar-lined private suites. (Mortar always relaxes you on vacation.)
You’ll also have something worth defending: a stunning strip of beach on the southwest edge of Majorca, a hundred miles off the Spanish coast. They can hook you up with a deep-sea fishing rig if you want to catch a few grouper for your triumphal feast—upon return to the Cap, just rally the house chef to help you fry up your spoils in the public kitchen, and bring your bounty to your followers in the armory. That would be a private so-called disco bunker carved Indiana Jones-style into a wall of rock, ready for a raucous, primitive pre-battle feast.
As if there’s any other kind.
Preferably one with beach access.
Introducing Cap Rocat, a Mediterranean fortress newly renovated into a sun-baked island retreat, taking reservations now.
The building started life as a Spanish military stronghold at the beginning of last century—and if you happen to find yourself under siege, it shouldn’t be too difficult to use that to your advantage. But now, instead of battlements, you’ll find a sunbathing terrace that wouldn’t look out of place in Ibiza—complete with a saltwater infinity pool along the edge—and instead of a barracks, you’ll find a row of mortar-lined private suites. (Mortar always relaxes you on vacation.)
You’ll also have something worth defending: a stunning strip of beach on the southwest edge of Majorca, a hundred miles off the Spanish coast. They can hook you up with a deep-sea fishing rig if you want to catch a few grouper for your triumphal feast—upon return to the Cap, just rally the house chef to help you fry up your spoils in the public kitchen, and bring your bounty to your followers in the armory. That would be a private so-called disco bunker carved Indiana Jones-style into a wall of rock, ready for a raucous, primitive pre-battle feast.
As if there’s any other kind.
