Atlantis The Palm: When myth meets reality

The Paradox of reality

For years, I kept a cautious distance from Dubai. I saw it as a theatre of excess, a postcard of glittering skyscrapers and fabricated backdrops. But cities, like people, have the power to prove us wrong. In 2019, a single week was enough to discover a vibrant metropolis where tradition and modernity dance an unexpected choreography.

Six years later, I returned – with my family. This time, there were no hesitations: Atlantis, The Palm, that pink icon which for almost two decades has lived in the imagination of travellers as the modern mirage of the lost city.

The flight itself was, in its own way, a chapter apart – a nocturnal drama only those who travel with children can truly understand. But the discomfort soon faded. Forty minutes after leaving the airport, guided in silence by a hotel driver, the image appeared before us like something from a dream: Atlantis rising over Palm Jumeirah like the palace of fables it seeks to recreate, a pink mirage reflected in the Gulf. Proof that, at times, the artificial can feel more real than reality itself.

The Architecture of enchantment

Opened in 2008, Atlantis was the first resort to be built on the Palm Jumeirah – itself an engineering feat that transformed the impossible into reality. Designed by Wimberly, Tong & Goo, it rises as a modern materialisation of the Atlantis myth, in a fusion of Arabian references and contemporary fantasy.

The coral façade soars in twin towers linked by a central arch, functioning visually as a portal to another world.

 In the atrium, Francisca let out the sigh I myself was feeling: “Wow, mummy… it feels like we’re in The Little Mermaid!”

And that was it exactly: columns evoking submerged palaces, light filtered by the sea and, at the centre, Dale Chihuly’s hypnotic sculpture – a vortex of thousands of pieces of blown glass. A stage of arrival that suspends disbelief.

Check-in was swift and warm. A staff member welcomed us in Portuguese, reminding us that true luxury resides in human attention, not in scale.

Inhabiting the impossible

With 1,500 rooms and suites, Atlantis is a universe in itself. Whites, turquoises, and corals compose spacious interiors; balconies open onto the sea, inviting contemplation.

In our Imperial Club Room with ocean view, luxury revealed itself in discreet gestures: pastries left in silence, delicate fruit, toys for Francisca, and towels folded into ephemeral sculptures.

For those in search of the legendary, the Poseidon and Neptune Suites open floor-to-ceiling windows onto the Ambassador Lagoon, where sharks and rays glide in hypnotic ballet. The Bridge Suite, suspended between the towers, offers 360-degree views and private butler service – an apartment in the sky where both sea and Dubai stretch out like a visionary model.

Booking with the “Imperial Club” seal includes a private lounge, a dedicated breakfast, exclusive check-in, an Explorers’ Club for the youngest guests, and even a reserved beach area.

Some of the surprises that kept appearing in the room throughout our stay. To sleep here is to wake in a world where the sea invades your dreams – the impossible made everyday through human ingenuity.

A Gastronomic symphony

If architecture is spectacle and exuberance, gastronomy is the most overwhelming act.

Atlantis, The Palm is a culinary city within the city. Among the buffets, Saffron impresses with its vibrant rhythm and Asian offering, while Kaleidoscope proves more familiar but equally crowded.

The contrast made us value the Imperial Club Lounge even more: silence, a terrace overlooking the sunset, and polished service. Here, breakfast became a liturgy of calm; by late afternoon, generous aperitifs freed us from the pressure of organising formal family dinners.

At night, the climax: FZN by Björn Frantzén, which opened in 2024 and has already been awarded three Michelin stars. Only 27 seats, Nordic precision with Arabian warmth – one of the finest experiences of my year.

Studio Frantzén brought the same signature to a more relaxed register, a contemporary setting, and memorable dishes. Over cocktails and sushi, we revisited Nobu, an eternal classic.

We left legendary tables unexplored: Ossiano, Hakkasan, Gordon Ramsay’s Bread Street Kitchen, or Lebanese Ayamna. In the end, each meal here is a destination, where one does not collect restaurants but memories.

Parallel Universes

Each guest inhabits their own version of fantasy.

The resort is a miniature cosmopolis, where walking distances are part of the experience: at every turn, unexpected corners, terraces, and colossal aquariums await. Aquaventure Waterpark attracts the crowds; we chose contemplation.

The Lost Chambers Aquarium was a revelation: submerged ruins populated by 65,000 marine creatures, time slowing to the rhythm of rays.

Another afternoon, a private cabana by the beach revealed itself as balm: shade, cocktails, service invisible yet ever-present. For an aerial perspective, the balloon rising 300 metres shows the perfect geometry of the Palm.

Families find true choreographed paradises in Atlantis Kids Club and Club Rush for teenagers. Here, everything comes in a more luxurious version.

The Choreography of hospitality

What distinguishes Atlantis is not its scale, which imposes itself immediately. It is the ability to combine spectacle with intimacy, grandeur with warmth.

The choreography repeats itself in small gestures: checking in in one’s native language, genuine smiles, unexpected toys in the room, and ice creams distributed by the pool.

The Possible Atlantis

After a week at Atlantis, The Palm, the reflection lingers on what it means to create artificial paradises in the 21st century. This is not merely another luxury resort – it is an exercise in materialising collective dreams, in giving architectural form to ancestral myths.

Dubai, a city built in record time, works as a laboratory of the future, testing the limits of what is possible. Atlantis inserts itself in this narrative as proof that the artificial, when executed with mastery, attains its own authenticity.

The mythical Atlantis was lost to the waters of time. This one, pink and impossible, rises above the Persian Gulf, offering not the lost city of the Greek philosophers but perhaps something more precious: the brief possibility of inhabiting our own dreams of magnificence.

In Francisca’s gaze, enchanted with mermaids and fables, lies the final lesson: true luxury is to relearn the ability to be astonished.