Jambalaya Ocean Drive

[Mariela Coxon]

Mydream holiday destination is the Bahamas where Johnny [Depp] and I have our own private island. I know I'm incredibly lucky because the place I dream about is also the place I get to go to. When I'm not there, I try not to think about it too often, as it's better always to live in the moment, but when I do think about the Bahamas, I feel full of plenitude and serenity. I love to listen to the sound of wind in the trees and the waves. It's a comforting sound. I can hear birds, and in the sea I can see many fishes and maybe a mermaid. Just kidding! If I did go after one, I might not come back. I hear they're quite hypnotising. Whoever made up the myth of the mermaid must have had a great imagination and too much rum.

The indigenous plants are very beautiful, pushing up through the volcanic rock. Orchids and bougainvillea are planted by us. At night the sky is bigger than anything you've seen, and the stars are so, so bright. I've often napped in hammocks, but never slept the night outside. When the weather turns, it's good to feel safe in a shelter. Going barefoot, that's a must. The hard part is to put shoes back on when you leave. I never wear make-up. It's really nice not to. Letting everything go is the goal, and if you can't do it there, where can you do it?

The sand is great for exfoliating your body. You sit in the shallow water and it does the trick. But nature can be dangerous and there are some poisonous trees and big fishes. I know enough not to mess around with a ray or a jellyfish. You don't want to disturb anybody. It's their element; we're just guests. All the wildlife

is protected so we would never go fishing. We get to see the fish in the sea, not to eat them. When we are on holiday we eat everything and anything. I'm a good eater and my drink of choice is champagne.

The music we listen to is something easy such as Iron and Wine, or the band Nouvelle Vague, which does great covers and lounge-type arrangements. Sometimes I rest, sometimes I stay up late - anything is possible.

What always surprises me on the island is nature. It's more beautiful than anything man can make. Maybe this sounds silly, but no matter how many times you've seen a sunset or sunrise, it can still blow your mind. The horizon is endless and it gives space to your breathing and your brain. It makes me want to sing. I take a guitar out there with me. I don't play that much, I'm terrible - my concert in London next month is with a string quartet as well as a whole orchestra - and when I'm on my own I play just a few chords to get started writing a song. Out in the ocean, sitting on a rock, it's great because no one can hear you, so you can really let go.

Last November I got to live out one of my dreams -to go trekking for gorillas in Uganda. The trip certainly isn't for the faint-hearted. This has nothing to do with the gorillas themselves; it's due to the terrifying drives required to get to them. We had three straight days in a huge, battered Toyota Land Cruiser, driving through very poor, undeveloped country on unmade roads - and this was without accidents or breakdowns. But I am a bit of a daredevil, and for me this only added to the adventure.

Once we were in the gorilla zone we stayed at The Travellers Rest Hotel in Kisoro, a typical dusty, rural African town. The hotel (which Dian Fossey visited) is basic but charming, and most importantly they serve a wonderful cup of tea. My parents and I (don't imagine budding Attenboroughs here, think more National Lampoon's the Griswolds) slept well and the following morning awoke at 5am. We watched the sun rise out of the mist (gorillas in the mist isn't a myth after all), and a class of children arriving at the hut they call school, singing their morning hymn, before a two-hour drive to the camp.

Once there, we trekked through extremely dense forest (making for very slow and hot progress) for a couple of thousand metres, and after two hours were finally within touching distance of these magnificent and extraordinary creatures.

We watched, mesmerised, as the gorillas grunted and chewed, and a macho silverback occasionally beat his chest to show his dominance. The mothers barely took any notice of us and some of the brave younger males dared to brush past us. But most delightful of all was when two tiny twin gorillas fed from their mother under the close supervision of a protective silverback. It was unforgettable.

Last year Sting and I spent two weeks in India, and one of the most wonderful places we stayed was the 18th-century palace of one of India's female rulers, Ahilya Bai Holkar. The Ahilya Fort, on the banks of the Narmada river, is now an amazing hotel, run by one of her descendants, Prince Shivaji Rao Holkar, son of the last Maharajah of Indore.

The dcor is simple and elegant. The ten bedrooms are all unique, with traditional furniture. The outside areas are even more atmospheric. Shady terraces are surrounded by decorative arches that give on to spectacular river views. The ramparts provide the setting for breakfast al fresco. The tea is from Darjeeling, the coffee from Coorg.

During the days we found ourselves drawn to the cascades on the Narmada river, which offer nature's own hydro-massage therapy. We also explored the many temples to Lord Shiva. Unlike every other place in India we had visited, there were very few people around, so we had space to drink in the beauty and serenity without distraction. But even in this unusually quiet place, a walk down to the river can offer a shopping opportunity. There is a little boutique selling saris, and local women weaving traditional Maheshwari cottons. In the evenings, we would reconvene on the ramparts for an aperitif, the magical star-filled sky overhead. A royal thali feast in the garden would follow. One evening we had a floating moonlit picnic, complete with musicians - incredibly romantic.

A stay at the Ahilya Fort is like being jettisoned back to another time, a pastoral world where the only traffic is a herd of goats or cows coming home from pasture, and the meditative calm and beauty of rural India has so far resisted the ravages of tourism(ahilyafort.com).

The slopes of Klosters in Switzerland are my home away from home. I go there whenever I can between Christmas and April, packing nothing but my passport (my winter wardrobe of cashmere jumpers and Timberland boots is already there). Unlike Gstaad where you ski to be seen, Klosters is all about understated chic. I've been on wild weekends, family holidays and romantic breaks. I'm so well-known that if I got on a white horse and rode naked down the main street I don't think anyone would bat an eyelid.

I turn into an adrenaline junkie when I'm in Klosters. I slice down the slopes listening to Empire of the Sun on my iPod, without stopping. There's nothing better than skiing with a man you fancy. I can't keep track of the amount of men I've fallen in love with on the ski slopes and then made the terrible mistake of inviting them back to London where they lose all their power and allure. On the slopes it's like performing a mating dance, catching each other up with the wind blowing through your hair. I've always said if a man can catch me on skis he can have me. Unfortunately, this only leaves my father and my brother.

To refuel after a day of loved-up adrenaline, the Chesa restaurant is wonderful for anything from pasta with truffles to Weiner Schnitzel. If not Chesa, I'll go to Wynegg, which is a family-run restaurant serving the best snails in Europe and their cheese fondue hasn't changed in 20 years. The only nightclub I go to now is Casa Antica. I've been going there since I was a teenager, when I used to climb in through a window.

Klosters feels like Toytown; driving round in my Fiat Panda 4x4, I feel very safe. When I come back to London I imagine that my Winter Palace, the sexy skiers, the 360-degree panorama, all just disappear in a puff of snow.

Nothing I've ever seen compares with the beauty of Cuixmala, a collection of casitas set in 25,000 acres of conservation area on the Pacific coast of Mexico. This may be paradise, but days here are never idle. The riding is the equivalent of a Mexican safari; crocodiles and armadillos are easy to spot and a short gallop along the golden 3km beach usually ends with an introduction to the day's newborn turtles. The whole point of Cuixmala is conservation, and the turtle programme is one of its most important elements. Turtle eggs, laid by previous Cuixmala babies, are collected daily along the beach and placed in a protected area. The guests are then invited to release the new turtles into the sea by moonlight.

There are several beaches to choose from. Escondida is perfect for those seeking a bit of a thrill (which includes my six-year-old), with its frothy surf, while Caleta is for lazy holidaymakers. From here you can catch a boat to go whale-watching at sunset, explore the surrounding beaches by kayak, or simply lie in hammock under a palm. No picnics are necessary, as Cuixmala provides shrimp and lobster with salsa verde cooked on a wooden beach barbecue (cuixmala.com).

My best fish experience ever? At Ristorante La Rosetta when the volcanic ash cloud hit last year. I was in Milan, stranded, because there were no flights back to the States where I had jobs lined up, so I took the rotten egg I was given and made it sunny side up, or my lemons and made a big glass of lemonade (whichever line suits you better). I took a train to Rome and decided to do something on my bucket list: see the Vatican. After many hours of getting lost in building after building of esoteric art, I was famished with a mean craving for fish. My hotel made reservations for me at La Rosetta. When I arrived they sat me outside so I could people-watch and enjoy the ten-course fish tasting menu paired with wine. With my glass of wine in my right hand and a Paulo Coelho book in my left, I waited and waited. After what seemed like half an hour I asked my waiter what was with the delay. He asked the awkward question: 'Aren't you waiting for someone?' I assured him I was not and, after a brief look of confusion, he understood that, yes, I am that crazy lady from America who eats alone. We laughed at the misunderstanding and within minutes the first of many courses materialised, each one showcasing another layer of what this restaurant can create with fish: sauted calamari with artichoke, turbot with saffron and fennel, fried baby octopus with crispy zucchini strings. Fish is what I find myself eating most of the time no matter where I am, and this was the best I have ever had, which is saying something (larosetta.com).

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