There is a lot to like about Florida’s latest golf resort. There are two 18-hole golf courses, a sleek clubhouse and an army of waiting staff who cater to your every need. But what you notice most is the silence.
Standing on the first tee, there is a perfect peace. A serene stillness you can’t help but take pleasure in. Admittedly the occasional swish of a nearby practice swing may break the calm, but for the most part the Streamsong Resort is drenched in hush.
I should point out I am here to witness the official opening of the much-talked-about development so the place is barely up and running. Saying that, there are enough journalists and dignitaries here to overfill an ample-sized car park and give the staff a good run around, so there are certainly enough punters to keep the place busy, yet it is still. Quiet even.
This clear contradiction can be resolved when you consider where Streamsong is, or rather where it is not. When a bird call breaks the peace, you get a sense of just how far you have come since arriving at Orlando International airport. After all, Streamsong is located in the southern reaches of Polk County and is a million miles away from the flamboyance of Disney in neighbouring Orlando. The six-lane highways that connect the gaggle of colourful theme parks have been replaced by long, straight provincial roads where you can drive for miles without seeing a soul.
The 55 million holidaymakers that visit Mickey and his friends annually have been replaced by tumble weeds and crows. The bars, clubs and neon-lit hotels that service the booming leisure industry are nowhere to be seen. Instead remote towns and white-picket-fence houses rush by as you drive south to Streamsong.
Out of sight of Orlando’s neon frolics, the pace of life in Polk County has slowed so much that by the time you reach the seven-mile drive that will take you to the cool retro-chic hotel and on to the golf club, it’s as if time has ground to a halt.
