Mr & Mrs Smith

Perhaps the last place you expect to find a French chateau is on the south-west coast of Bali in the fishing village of Jimbaran Bay. But, veering off the main road, down some very narrow back lanes, and along the tree-lined drive that leads to the Shaba hotel, that’s what Mr Smith and I see.

This extraordinary, grand colonial mansion is surrounded by sprawling gardens dotted with day-beds. Being an interior designer, I’m almost hyperventilating to discover what lies beyond the vast terraces encircling the residence so I dash, despite the heat, past high walls and handmade tiles to the private inner courtyard, which flaunts a fabulous urn water feature. Open to the sky and scattered with cushions, it’s a serene spot for reading and relaxing.

Staff materialise from nowhere and settle us in our suite, one of just three rooms in the entire mansion, and the most spacious. Inside, the French-colonial theme reaches its crescendo: a luxurious bed with silky, indigo-blue accents is flanked by gorgeous Moroccan rugs, and a large writing desk tucked into a corner is ready should we be inspired to pen romantic poetry. French doors open onto a huge walk-in dressing room with wall-to-ceiling wardrobes, and through more French doors lies a bathroom, its pièce-de-résistance a claw-foot bath filled with freshly picked rose petals. There’s also a separate tiled shower room and two pedestal wash basins with a decadent mirror, so Mr Smith and I don’t have to share – unless we want to. Plus a choice of elegant chairs, perfect for sitting and chatting or powdering our noses. Hand-printed wallpapers, old wooden floorboards, beautiful glass jars of bath salts and chandeliers add to the fin-de-siècle feel.

A chilled champagne cocktail and ice-cold hand towels snap us out of our reverie. We drop our bags and explore the hotel. The central courtyard links all the rooms and soon we discover a kitchen, a library and a dining room filled with opulent candelabras, antiques and a communal table. However, you don’t have to eat with your fellow guests: all the meals are made on request when and wherever you would like.

On our first night we decide to have dinner next to the pool and we lose count of the small dishes in our Balinese rijsttafel, washed down with cracking cocktails. By day, the full-length swimming pool is dappled with sunlight from the massive trees surrounding it. Another memorable meal at the outdoor poolside table is fresh couscous with herbs and feta cheese for lunch, which I'm still craving; the Shaba’s chefs hold cookery classes if you want to try and repeat the experience back home.

Returning to our room we find the candles have been lit for a romantic night in. For the whole of our stay the Shaba’s staff are discretion personified: we never see a cleaner yet every day our room is spring-cleaned. Each suite has its own butler, who you can call on any time for breakfast (served with a glass of champagne), lunch or dinner. They even sew and mend your clothes, and offer a complimentary shuttle service via a vintage Volkswagen Safari.

Exhausted by our demanding routine, the next day Mr Smith and I indulge in a facial scrub and massage at the hotel’s Henna Spa. I add a manicure, a pedicure and later I’m unable to resist the 60-minute Reflexology foot massage. Pampering massages apart, being a guest at the Shaba is like being lucky enough to be invited to stay in a beautiful old house owned by very wealthy, distant relatives. Strolling in the grounds with Mr Smith, we decide we don’t want to leave this lovely place. So it’s with heavy hearts and perfectly manicured paws that we finally bid the Shaba adieu.