KEY POINTS:
When Kona Village Resort opened in the 1960s, guests flew in by private plane. We arrive by car. It feels as though we've taken a rocket.
To say the landscape is moon-like is an understatement. And the journey? Let's just say we visited three planets to get here. Now, that's exclusive.
The hotel is on the west side of Hawaii's Big Island, known as Hawaii, in the Kona district. We begin on the east in the quaint old capitol of Hilo.
The drive from one side of the island to the other takes no longer than traversing Auckland but there's a lot to see: waterfalls slicing through dense bush, imposing cliffs that fall away into ocean, and an hour uphill later, a cattle ranch, bathed in mist.
When I roll down the window I can feel the chill, an about-face after muggy Hilo. Our new rental car starts to wheeze and lurch like an asthmatic who can't deal with the thinning air, so we pull over in what turns out to be a cemetery - two naive tourists about to be sacrificed by Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of fire.
After several minutes of mild panic, we get the engine to turn over and are soon driving along roads with diminishing foliage, until we descend into desert, vast, stark plains that merge with a glaring sky.
Then we land on the moon.
Kona owes its dried-cowpat-like landscape to Mauna Loa, the volcano that spewed lava all the way to the ocean, and erupted as recently as 1984.
If it weren't for the busy road and the roadside rock graffitied with white-coral names and love-hearts, Kona would appear almost lifeless. What a great place to make an alien movie.
It seems all the more surreal that here, along the Kohala Coast, is where you'll find the exclusive luxury resorts. The gateway to Kona Village, frequently named one of the world's best hotels, is suitably guarded. We must show IDs to make it past Fort Knox, but a few minutes later we're greeted with a fresh-flower leis, rum punch and a welcome so royal we forget about our rental car and bags, all of which, of course, are taken care of.
The resort is the stuff of dreams. The private, salt-and-pepper beach is where guests sunbathe on matching towels as a loud Texan waitress tends to their cocktail glasses.
There are 125 gorgeous, thatched chalets (hale), some veiled in tropical plants, others leaning over the sea. Some of them are designed to resemble Maori whare.
A large tropical pond built by the ancient Hawaiians is now a popular hang-out for children with fishing rods.
It's all the stuff of awe. As we are buggied along the sandy path to our chalet (with its own stretch of beach "for dolphin watching," explains our cheery porter, Tad), we realise what makes this place truly special: the lava.
It's everywhere. From our balcony, we have a sea view; from our bathroom, we have a lava view. Some of the rooms balance on poles embedded in the lava.
Past the pond we find the petroglyphs- primitive, stick-man markings carved into the lava by Hawaiians about 900 years ago.
We ask Tad if celebrities have stayed here. "Of course."
Who? "I couldn't say."
A friendly looking man in his 50s wanders past. Tad waves and whispers, "Nobel Prize-winning scientist."
For a place so exclusive, it's nice to find a sense of humour: a coconut left outside your door is as good as leaving a "do not disturb" sign; the complaints department is nothing but a paddock with a couple of donkeys. But there are rules.
Cellphones are banned anywhere outside your room so you don't disturb your neighbours. There are no ordinary phones in the rooms at all.
After spending a week in a high-rise apartment in Waikiki, it's also a little disconcerting getting used to having no locks on the doors. Our paltry possessions are separated from the outside world by a ranchslider that opens to the deck, complete with jacuzzi and a hammock.
This is apparently to make us feel more relaxed, although it's hard to imagine anybody here with any desire to steal from us. Anyway, we are at the end of the 32ha property, a good five-minute wander from the hub of the resort.
Cash is discouraged. Payments are usually made with a flick of the pen, and an optional lump sum for tips is paid in advance. This might sound like one less thing to worry about, it's a great way to spend money without realising it.
That night, we venture into the fine-dining restaurant where we're amazed to see the lobster is only US$10 ($13.50), the side dishes $2. We order as much food as we think our stomachs can handle, oblivious to the US$200 "sitting fee" we are made aware of at the end of our stay.
But what a meal. Chef Mark Tsuchiyama takes a Hawaiian approach to the dishes. Aside from the fresh seafood, we sample hearts of palm fern, which are surprisingly tender, like sweet, delicate asparagus spears, and breadfruit fries.
Aside from looking for cheaper food, there is no reason to leave the village, which is exactly the point. It's sufficiently self-contained, much as a Club Med tends to your every leisurely whim, be it water sports, spa treatments or arts and crafts pursuits.
During the day we spend a lot of time doing nothing, but never get bored. We snorkel with a huge, green turtle that munches algae by the rocks. We have cocktails brought to us by the pool. We sit on a love seat in the middle of a huge expanse of lava and stare out to sea.
If it wasn't for the lava, I'd probably feel slightly ripped off by the grainy beach - as New Zealanders we are spoiled in that regard. And I might, eventually, start to feel bored and wary of a place where everyone smiles and nods politely at one another, then briskly looks away.
And although there are plenty of bare feet, no one is seen wandering pool-side in a ratty T-shirt.
Not surprisingly, 70 per cent of guests at Kona Village have stayed here before.
The record for the longest stay is three months. This would set a couple back about $109,200 for accommodation alone.
Most of the guests are Californian, and the longer we stay, the more we feel like fish out of water. Groups of middle-aged couples all seem to know one another from previous trips.
Only one couple seems keen to engage in conversation with us at a buffet lunch around the pool. Which is fine by us - we, too, came here to escape.
The hotel's slogan is "Hawaii as it was meant to be", but by the third night it is time to escape and explore the seaside town of Kailua-Kona.
We decide on a sunset dinner cruise on a catamaran. It sounded nice but it didn't mention the noisy luau show where even the "Maori" dancers go barefoot on the tables - the same tables we are to eat off.
We can't wait to get back to the comfort of the village.
Has our stay turned us into snobs? It's hard not to feel a little guilty. It's not so much the elite sense of privacy but the fact that this place has real Hawaiian history tucked away beyond a security gate.
Children are allowed in on school day-trips to see the petroglyphs and pond, but it seems odd that they have to go to a luxury resort to get part of their education.
Still, who are we to complain? After just three nights at one of the most luxurious places on the planet, we feel as pampered as Nobel Prize-winning scientists.
* Rebecca Barry stayed at Kona Village Resort as guest of Hawaii Tourism.
Checklist
Getting There
* Air New Zealand flies to Honolulu four times a week. Return fares start at $1579 each, plus costs.
Where To Stay
* Kona Village Resort is on the web at konavillage.com
Further Information
* You can get general information on Hawaii Tourism's website at hawaiitourism.co.nz
