Mr & Mrs Smith

Aman is my wife’s new favourite four-letter word. It means peaceful and as I write this review languishing on my day-bed at Amanusa, looking towards the east and a glorious Balinese sunrise, I understand why Aman is now the benchmark for the sort of travel we dream about but too rarely experience.

Our otherworldly experience began at the airport when Wayan greeted us flight-side and, with a combination of imagination and magic, made the Customs queue evaporate; I just wish he could have got the luggage off the flight a little quicker! No matter, within minutes we were met by Bali’s two characteristic sensory assaults – the scent of incense and clove cigarettes, and the scores of hotel reps waving their paddles madly to gain the attention of recent arrivals. Mrs Smith and I swept past them as Angelina and Brad would a grubby pack of paparazzi and we were soon cocooned in the Amanusa SUV with a cold towel to the face, a Bintang beer in hand and a conversation about European football flowing... already I was in heaven.

Like a stately palace of the gods, Amanusa is set about 1.5km back from the beach at Nusa Dua, perched above and within the beautiful grounds of the Bali Country Club on the southern-most tip of the island. Eight of the hotel’s 35 villas possess plunge pools but all have private garden courtyards. Americans would call the rooms oversized: our Deluxe Suite boasts an indoor and outdoor shower, a flatscreen TV with DVD, and a huge terrace replete with a king-size day-bed perfect for afternoon games of Scrabble and watching the sunset with a gin and tonic.

We don’t have a pool but we don’t miss out – the slinky 30-metre pool in the heart of the resort will do us. Amanusa itself has the feeling of a fortified sanctuary, its main buildings impressively monumental in style. Serious walls of grey stone are flanked by marble staircases, with 200-year-old frangipani trees adding to the graceful gravitas.

A golf course wraps around the property but Mrs Smith doesn’t allow me to indulge. With my practised eye for tricked-up resort courses, though, I can tell this track looks like the genuine goods with terrific fairways and real bunkering. Such are the compromises of marriage.

Eschewing the golf buggies, we choose instead to borrow a pair of Amanusa’s silver mountain bikes and pedal to Nusa Dua to check out the beach and its resorts. Nusa Dua just keeps growing and now boasts brands like Grand Hyatt and Novotel. At Aman we might share the same postcode but we are in a different world, looking down benevolently at the chain-hotel hordes below.

We breakfast in a private section of the beach’s best part. It’s near perfect, of course. We re-mount and cycle smugly through other properties. At the Bali Collection shopping complex we buy Tom Ford sunglasses, a tie and T-shirt by Paul Smith, a Louis Vuitton football and sundry extras for AU$100. It’s nice to know certain Balinese traditions remain unchanged.

If cycling’s not your thing, hitch a ride back from the Beach Club in the re-fitted Volkswagen Transporter that ferries Amanusa guests around town. It’s no more than a three-minute drive from the resort to the beach.

Lunching by the pool, Mrs Smith and I savour mee goreng, som tum with grilled chicken and Bali’s own version of antipasto, nasi campur. All are delivered with real flavour, finesse and a bit of fire – Bintang’s best friend. Dinner can be taken in one of two restaurants (Italian or Indo/Thai), in your room, by the pool or down at the Beach Club. Our strict indigenous holiday food policy means we don’t try the Italian. Who comes to Bali for spaghetti bolognese?

The hotel has cleverly converted a couple of villas into an amenable spa and utilitarian gym. The Lulur body scrub and Balinese massage is the best I have ever had, which might mean something had it not been my first, but Mrs Smith, who is much better versed in personal pampering, assures me hers was first class as well.

Amanusa may not be the flashiest or trendiest retreat in Bali but, thanks to faultless, discreet service, beautiful food and a real sense of hospitality, it is the first place to which I would return. As Wayan drives us to our next destination, he passes Bapak Smith (that’s me) another Bintang then rings a restaurant in Jimbaran Bay to organise dinner and transfers to our next resort. Aman is all about delivering on the details, but as we say goodbye I’m left contemplating life without a Wayan. Surely, it’s not too much to ask if they can spare him?