Guest User
March 15, 2025
There’s a rare magic to a place that feels both grand and deeply personal—Hotel Boutique Don Pepe is exactly that. Once a 16th-century convent, its transformation into a haven of understated luxury is masterful. The rooms, few in number but boundless in charm, are designed with a quiet elegance that wraps you in comfort. Ours, with its soaring ceilings and soft, earthy tones, became a private retreat where mornings began with sunlight spilling through antique windows, and evenings dissolved into the gentle lull of the Caribbean night. The true heartbeat of our stay, though, was the terrace. At Bar Solymar, we lingered over glasses of aged Colombian rum, mixed into cocktails that tasted like liquid gold. The staff, attentive without intrusion, seemed to anticipate every whim—a fresh drink arrived as the last sip vanished, and a platter of local fruits appeared just as hunger stirred. Evenings blurred into starlit conversations, the sea breeze carrying the faint scent of gardenias from the courtyard below. What stays with me most is the stillness. The way time seemed to slow in the cloistered gardens, where the only sounds were rustling palms and distant waves. The staff’s warmth felt authentic, their care woven into every detail: crisp linens turned down at dusk, a handwritten note suggesting a hidden beach, the way they remembered how I took my coffee. This isn’t a hotel that shouts for attention—it whispers, inviting you to lean in. By the end, I didn’t feel like a guest, but a confidant of its secrets. I left with sandy shoes, a sun-kissed soul, and the quiet certainty that I’d found a place I’ll return to—not for luxury alone, but for the rare gift of feeling utterly, peacefully known.