Review: Amanzoe

With views over the glitzy fray of Porto Heli Bay, this hotel is a series of set pieces: a composition of black amphorae in a soaring portico, a skylit spa framed by graceful colonnades, a yoga shala seemingly balancing on a Peloponnesian panorama. Marble-clad villas look like miniature Parthenons, only with planted roofs and plunge pools. The recurring nods to the Acropolis veer toward pastiche, yet it all hangs together because the landscape refuses to be upstaged by the monumental architecture. Other guests are barely noticeable (even the terribly famous ones). The main pool is miraculously empty, the library is all yours, and there’s always a front-row daybed at the beach club. At dusk everyone gravitates toward the circular terrace, which floats on a reflective pool, to stare as the sunset streaks the horizon fuchsia and tangerine. The beauty of Amanzoe lies in its isolation—in the stillness of the landscape and the complete absence of distraction.