William R
9 avril 2025
We’ve stayed in some amazing places, but the Waldorf Astoria Los Cabos Pedregal is something different. It’s not just luxurious—it’s alive. Thoughtful. Human. Every interaction, from check-in to farewell, carried a kind of warmth and attention that’s rare anywhere, but especially at this level. From the moment we passed through the dramatic tunnel and were welcomed with margaritas, the care was immediate. A concierge walked us to our room and gave us a thoughtful tour, while the bellhop brought up our luggage. Halfway there, I suddenly realized I’d forgotten my jacket in the backseat of the car—and I was already preparing myself to go ask someone for help. But before I could say a word, the bellhop showed up, luggage in hand, and casually hung the jacket in the closet like it had always belonged there. That moment stayed with me—it told me everything I needed to know about the service culture at this property. The room itself was spacious and beautifully designed, with natural materials and warm textures that felt luxurious without ever being cold. Everything pointed toward the ocean—the plunge pool, the view, the light—it felt like the space was inviting us to slow down and breathe. Once we got settled in, the real magic started to show up in the small moments. We were greeted daily with guacamole and Coronas, delivered like clockwork in the afternoon—a simple ritual that made the room feel like home. The housekeeping team was quietly incredible. Beyond keeping the room spotless, they kept the minibar stocked like magic. I couldn’t keep up with the soda water, Diet Coke, and water bottles—they were refilled faster than I could drink them. It became a running joke. And don’t get me started on the cashews. I kept eating them, and somehow they just kept reappearing. Then there were the touches that made the room feel like it had a personality of its own. Bath towels replenished endlessly—no matter how many we used, they reappeared without asking. Our personal toiletries were neatly lined up and reorganized every day, creating this quiet sense of order and calm. And the turndown service left nightly sweets that became a ritual for us—we’d return from dinner, find them waiting, and share them together before bed. It wasn’t just thoughtful. It was personal. A rhythm we began to look forward to. Even playful touches became part of the story. My wife bought a stuffed capybara, and each day we found it in a new position or spot on the bed. It was light, unexpected, and somehow made the space feel more alive—like the staff was playing along with us. One night, my wife accidentally dropped a glass on the balcony. I called the front desk, and within minutes, Nico, our housekeeper, came up personally to clean it up. She kept saying, “Don’t worry about the glass—the important thing is you’re not hurt.” It wasn’t just service. It was human kindness. That tone was consistent throughout our stay. On our final night, we returned to find a hand-painted
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