We then stop at any number of fresh seafood restaurants perched permanently on the sand, their colorful tablecloths rippling in the breezes. The views here abundantly flaunt why this stretch of the globe is called a riviera. We walk the beach, soaking up its changing light, watching for beautiful fish, collecting the odd shell or rock. Your particular drink order has been memorized and produced almost before you arrive. Nightfall involves only a slight drop in temperature, so all dinners are taken in the warm, indigo air, listening to the waves.
Fresh flowers appear by the bedside and in the bathroom along with fresh bottles of mineral water.
The service is not only impeccable, it's offered graciously, with a smile. We're not the only ones who've fallen in love with Villa del Sol. So have lots of visitors from California, New York, France, Canada and Italy, who keep turning up every winter to shed their real-world lives and become whoever they want to be for a week or two. I shouldn't even be telling people about this sybaritic haven, but when you do visit for a winter getaway, bring a book or two, your favorite CDs, some shorts and a linen shirt for dinner, and three bathing suits. 84, Zihuatanejo, Gro.