Club Med Turks & Caicos

In December of 1993, I headed to Club Med in the Turks & Caicos with a group of friends, and it turned into one of those trips where the energy never seemed to dip. Club Med always leaned toward lively and unpredictable, but traveling with a whole crew made it feel like we brought our own spark to the island. Every day unfolded as a mix of laughter, sun, and a healthy dose of mischief.

The beaches of Providenciales were the perfect stage for it all. Grace Bay, with its powdery white sand and impossibly blue water, was where we spent much of our time. Some mornings were filled with sailing or snorkeling, other times just sprawled out on the sand, swapping stories and soaking in the Caribbean warmth. With the steady trade winds, there was always something happening on the water—windsurfing, catamarans, or just a group of us swimming until the sun drove us back to shore.

Evenings, of course, were when things really came alive. Communal dinners quickly turned into long, laughter-filled affairs, and before long we’d be swept into Club Med’s nightly lineup of parties, dances, and shows. Costumes made an appearance, as did limbo contests, and at one point I remember our entire group trying (and failing) to master some sort of choreographed dance the staff was teaching. With friends at your side, even the silliest activities felt like memories worth keeping.

What stood out most was how effortless it all felt—no itineraries, no pressure to see the “musts,” just days and nights filled with sun, sea, and camaraderie. The island’s natural beauty was undeniable, but what made that trip legendary was sharing it all with people I already knew so well.

Looking back, Turks & Caicos in ’93 was less about exploration and more about immersion—into friendship, into the Club Med rhythm, and into the kind of fun that only happens when you take a beautiful place, add a bit of organized chaos, and stir in the right group of friends.