Mr & Mrs Smith

As we stroll along the boulevard, under plane trees garlanded with electric-blue Christmas lights, the Hotel Heritage Av Liberdade comes into view. An elegant townhouse with sinuous wrought-iron balconies, it stands among a mix of old and modern neighbours and chic boutiques, with a facade painted the washed-out blue of Lisbon’s sky on an autumn morning.

We step down into a softly lit reception where the colours of a spice bazaar – saffron, turmeric and cinnamon – mix with traditional Portuguese blue-and-white azulejo tiles. There’s an old wooden herbalist’s counter for guests to help themselves to tea from large metal tins. Opening one of the lids, I’m overwhelmed by the scent of peppermint, and from another, the fragrance of prunes and rose petals.

The smiling concierge offers us a complimentary glass of port and a crisp green apple – not blended together, if you’re wincing at the thought of such a cocktail. This seems to sum up what this hip-yet-historical hotel is about – a marrying of fresh modern design and the traditions of Old Lisbon.

‘10 out of 10 for service, so far,’ says Mr Smith, as we hop into the lift to our fifth-floor room. Lunging in for that true endorsement, an elevator kiss, we toast our first trip to Lisbon. I extricate myself long enough to take in black-and-white photos of trams and a floor of the same patterned stone pavement that our cases bumped over. Ah, that’s why they say leave the high heels at home when you visit Lisbon.

Tones and textures are the buzzwords for our room’s decor. A patterned velvet chaise longue, polished cherry-wood floor and opulent mirrored wardrobes and a couple more of those crisp green apples carefully placed on the desk. We leave them, deciding that a half-eaten core might spoil the effect. The bathroom is an elegant country-house contrast to this modern style, with crackle-glaze tiles, classical fittings, monogrammed towels and a sweep of deep red flowers in the shower curtain.

Our corner suite overlooks the pink and terracotta rooftops and the yellow carriages of the elevadores behind the hotel. The surrounding sidestreets are begging to be explored, and these funiculars are perfect for saving weary feet ascending the nearby hill. Before we’ve even ventured far, we discover the perfect restaurant, Casa do Alentejo. Amid the painted blue-and-white tiles of this Moorish mansion, enveloped in the scent of spices originally brought back to Lisbon by the Portuguese explorers, I understand where Miguel Câncio Martins, the Portuguese architect of Heritage Av Liberdade, found his inspiration. Imagine what he’d have achieved had he’d also had a taste of the salt cod with sweet roasted peppers, and a creamy rice pudding dusted with cinnamon.

Candles flickering on the dark wood tables are the perfect welcome back to the cosy lounge area of the hotel, each punctuated with a bright green succulent plant. A spiral staircase tempts us to the mezzanine library area, where we find a modern take on a gentleman’s study. A mixture of leather-bound classics, airport fiction, glossy books about sexy European hotels and a stark white Apple Mac are at our disposal. It’s a relief to know there must be other hotel guests who, like Mr Smith and I, get shaky at the thought of being parted from their email.

We wake in the morning, to the bells of the church dome outside our room and the sun rising behind the Castelo de São Jorge, turning the pale grey sky, pink. At breakfast we pick over Portuguese delicacies of air-dried ham, crumbly local cheese and an amber quince jelly. I fiddle with one of those fancy espresso machines, half expecting George Clooney to come and give me a lesson – he’d look at home in this warm and elegant setting.

We spend the day investigating the ornately carved columns and cloisters of the Monastery of Jerónimos, and taste the vanilla perfumed custard tarts at the Pastéis de Belém pastry shop. We test out our aching calves on the cobbled streets up to Castelo de São Jorge before giving in and jumping on the No 28 tram to take us to the top. The view from this Moorish fortress over the River Tagus is stunning, but with evening falling we return to Heritage Av Liberdade, and the comforts of a hot, foamy bath.

Refreshed, we head up into the Bairro Alto, and dive into the narrow web of backstreets packed with bars and restaurants. Somehow, we end up in a fado restaurant. Initially wondering why we’d been warned against these song-and-supper clubs, how we wished we’d paid more attention to our concierge. The clue is when I request French fries with my grilled sea bass and the waiter smiles, ‘Ah, fish and chips. And would you like mushy peas with that?’ The fado, a mournful mixture of folk and blues is inspiring, the food and service not so much, and it’s a relief to escape back to Heritage Av Liberdade to sink into the soft velvet cushions of the hotel’s sitting room for a restorative glass of port and soothing jazz.

On our final morning, we check out the pool in the basement, with its decking and marble tiles. We lounge around on daybeds as if at an exclusive beach club and take a dip in the narrow strip of water, our splashes are overlooked by 1920s bathing beauties care of a sepia-tinted mural. It all evokes an era when the Portuguese Riviera was in its heyday.

By the time we drag ourselves to check out, we are so chilled we’re practically horizontal. Mr Smith finds himself strangely glued to our comfy bed as he basks in a ray of autumn sunshine. The Heritage Av Liberdade seems to have that effect – the warmth and charm of the place washes over you like that glass of ruby port, you can’t imagine ever leaving.