Luiz Faye visited Rixos Premium Dubrovnik as an ambulant wheelchair user travelling with her husband, after a cheap flight to Croatia turned a planned UK spa break into something considerably more ambitious.
We were supposed to be booking a spa break in the UK.
That was the plan. One night. Somewhere easy. Somewhere familiar.
Then an email landed in my inbox with cheap flights to Dubrovnik, and that was it.
Within ten minutes I was no longer looking at spa breaks. I was searching for luxury hotels in Dubrovnik, already asking myself a slightly different question in the background.
Can I actually move through this place, not just on paper, but in a way that still lets the whole date night energy flow?
A few hotels came up, and I’ll be honest, I was pleasantly surprised. There was a strong five star offering, including options that could work from an accessibility point of view. They are not always easy to find, and rarely marketed well, but once you know what to look for, they are there.
That’s where experience comes in.
One hotel kept coming back to the top of the list. Not loudly, not aggressively, just consistently.
It felt right.
Rixos Premium Dubrovnik.
Booking with Knowledge
Accessibility decisions rarely happen when you arrive somewhere. They tend to happen here, in the email, in the tone of the reply, in how much someone understands what you are actually asking.
I explained that I’m an ambulant wheelchair user, just as I always do. That I don’t always need a fully adapted room, but I do need space, a layout that works, and enough clarity to know I won’t spend the first hour quietly rearranging the room just to settle in.
They came back to me within 48 hours, with clear, helpful, and importantly realistic information. No overpromising, no vague reassurance, just friendly, drama free clarity.
What would work. What wouldn’t. What was available on request.
It meant I could make a decision, rather than take a chance.
So with that, I booked a deluxe sea view room with breakfast for three nights.
Arrival
There’s a moment when you arrive somewhere and your body lets you know whether you’re going to have to manage, or whether you can just be there.
This was the second.
We were met at the vehicle, guided up via ramped access, and within minutes we were checking in, our bags seamlessly swapped for champagne. It’s a small exchange, but I always notice it.
We took our drinks to the lobby bar, ordered a cheese board, and let the journey settle out of us. A perfect way to ease into what would be home for the next three nights.
The space itself does a lot quietly. Bright and modern, minimal without feeling stripped back, softened by what feels like an indoor botanical garden. Plants and trees layered throughout the hotel, stretching upwards through a glass atrium that carries light all the way through the building.
It feels open, but more importantly, it feels easy.
The Room We Did Not Book
When we reached the room, it was fully adapted.
Not what I had booked, and I knew exactly why it had happened.
Someone had seen the wheelchair and made a decision they thought would help.
And this is where things are rarely as straightforward as they seem.
I don’t always need a fully adapted room, particularly when I’m travelling with my husband. I can transfer into a bath, I can manage with the right layout, and I’m very aware that many hotels only have one or two adapted rooms available.
So if I don’t need it, I try to leave it.
I went back to reception and explained that, not as a complaint, just as context.
And this is where the experience could have shifted.
It didn’t.
There was no hesitation, no sense of it being a problem to solve. They listened, understood, and responded quickly, upgrading us to a junior suite without friction.
Not as a favour, just as the obvious solution.
And perhaps a quiet reminder that accessibility isn’t always about doing more. It’s about asking first.
The Junior Suite
This is where everything settled into place.
The space worked in a way that allowed me to stop thinking about how I was moving and start paying attention to where I was. I could move through the room naturally, without adjusting or second guessing every turn.
The bathroom struck that balance that so many hotels miss. A jacuzzi bath with a wide surround that made transfers feel straightforward, and a shower with a small ledge. Not perfect, but manageable, with a shower chair available on request.
The bed height was right, which is one of those details that rarely gets mentioned but is always noticed.
And then the balcony.
Flat access. No threshold. No interruption between inside and out.
That detail changes the entire feel of a room.
Mornings started there, stretching as the sun came up behind the mountains, with enough space to move and enough quiet to actually feel it.
It didn’t feel like adapting to a room.
It felt like the room had already considered me.
Breakfast
I’m not usually drawn to breakfast buffets. They tend to be busy, loud, and something to move through rather than enjoy.
This felt different.
There was a pianist playing softly in the background, and the whole space carried the same sense of calm as the rest of the hotel. People moved slowly, no one rushing you through the experience.
And the food was simply done well.
Waffles, fresh fruit, build your own bowls, ginger shots, coffee that tastes like coffee, smoked salmon pancakes, and even a glass of something sparkling if that’s where the morning takes you.
It felt considered, rather than excessive.
Moving Through Dubrovnik
The hotel sits just outside the Old Town, close enough to reach easily, but far enough to step away from the intensity of it.
We spoke to concierge about the best routes in, and I appreciated the honesty. They didn’t soften it. Dubrovnik is uneven, sloped, and at times challenging.
That’s fine.
I don’t need it to be easy. I just need to know what I’m working with. And when you’re used to playing pot-hole bingo on the pavements at home, I was more than happy to get out there and give the city a try.
We covered around 10 miles across the trip, partly exploring, partly me quietly testing my hill resistance ahead of our upcoming half marathon. Dubrovnik gave me that opportunity, with the added reward of breathtaking views, intricate cobbled streets steeped in history, and just enough coffee stops along the way to keep everything in balance.
The public bus system is accessible, and communication beforehand was straightforward and helpful. Taxis were equally easy, with drivers assisting without hesitation.
It wasn’t seamless.
But it was navigable.
The Spa and the Rollercoaster Ramp
The Anjana Spa is where the hotel softens into itself. A large, well designed space with everything you want at the end of a long day.
And importantly, a space I could actually use.
The layout allowed me to move through independently, from the pool to the hammam, through to the sauna and relaxation areas, without needing to constantly rethink my route. I could roll in, transfer where needed, and Martin would simply place my chair just outside, ready for when I was done.
That rhythm matters.
The indoor pool was easy to access, with space around it to position comfortably before transferring. The jacuzzi, hammam and saunas all followed the same principle. Nothing felt off limits, just a case of moving through each space in a way that suited me.
There was one moment that stood out.
Finding our way to the spa was a journey in itself. We followed directions from reception on our first visit, which led us to a long, steep ramp on a very smooth surface. Not the best conditions for wheels. Manageable on the way down, aside from a small skid that suggested I may also need new tyres, less so when you realise what that means for getting back up.
There’s a full floor to ceiling window at the end, which for a brief moment felt like a very real destination.
I managed a 360 degree turn, with what I’m fairly sure was a ‘wooooo’ involved somewhere in the process. A therapist watched the whole thing unfold, her expression moving from concern, to confusion, to laughter once she realised I wasn’t about to continue straight through the glass.
It was funny.
But it also mattered.
Because I couldn’t get back up that ramp independently.
We explained that, and this is where the hotel got it right. She listened immediately and showed us an alternative route using lifts on the other side of the hotel, allowing me to access the spa independently, without needing to rely on someone pushing me.
From that point on, the spa became exactly what it should be.
A place to switch off, to recover, and to settle into the end of the day without thinking about how to get in or out.
That was the only access challenge across the entire stay.
And it was resolved without friction.
Beyond the Hotel
Lapad Bay was one of those moments.
I got out of my chair, got low, and made my way down the rocks just to reach the water. It’s not graceful, and it’s not easy, but it’s mine. The kind of bum shuffling I actually live for, not the kind when an airline forgets to load the aisle chair. Luckily that wasn’t the case on this trip, but it’s a reality that never sits too far in the background.
That choice to still explore, to go a little off track, to reach the places that aren’t designed for you, hasn’t gone. And it was worth it.
I knew before flying that many of the beaches here are what I would call viewing accessible rather than experience accessible. You can see them, sit above them, have a coffee looking out over them, but getting down to the water itself is a different story.
So I took the route available to me.
And I still got to put my feet in another sea.
Later, Cave Bar More.
Often listed among the top bars in the region, and for good reason. Situated within a cave formed thousands of years ago, with stalagmites within touching distance, it feels entirely unique without ever feeling out of reach.
We emailed ahead and were given clear instructions for step free access through the hotel entrance, with a lift directly down into the cave space.
It’s one of those places that could easily have been out of reach.
And it wasn’t.
Because someone had taken the time to explain how to get there.
The Close
This wasn’t a trip defined by accessibility.
Which is exactly why it mattered.
I didn’t spend the stay managing, or adjusting, or asking the same questions twice. I moved through it, easily and fully, without feeling like an exception.
And that is the standard.
Not perfection.
There were moments that needed adjusting. A room that wasn’t quite right at first. A ramp that worked one way but not the other.
But none of it turned into friction.
Because the difference isn’t whether something goes wrong.
It’s what happens next.
And here, it was met with understanding. With solutions. With a level of care that allowed everything to settle back into place without disruption.
That is what real luxury feels like.
Not just beautiful spaces or considered design, but the ability to arrive, settle, and slip straight into the experience you came for.
The glass of champagne waiting.
The balcony at sunrise.
The quiet confidence that everything just works.
This was supposed to be a date night.
It became something more.
And that is the standard.
Leave a Reply