Ahilya by the Sea

I set off for Goa, mind, body, soul (and liver) a little bruised after a big fat four-day Indian wedding in Mumbai. My eyes only really opened fully when I read the email from the Ahilya reservations team about my arrival at the hotel in two days' time.

Brilliant. At least someone was on top of my diary management but that didn't help me with a place to stay tonight. Boarding my flight, I call my only pal in Goa who, it turns out, lives five bloody minutes away from the hotel. Thank you, universe.

I write all this only to set the scene. I was in some serious need of some R&R when I eventually check-in at Ahilya by the Sea. When its pearly white gates part, well, it was as though the gates to heaven themselves opened before me. Admittance: one.

I've travelled to Goa many times and it's home to some of my favourite hotels, so I feel I can write this with good authority: there really is nothing else like Ahilya by the Sea.

A home, not a hotel, it first opened its doors to the public in 2015, having been the private abode of enigmatic owner Leela Ellis and family. Mathieu, along with Coco, who take care of the day-to-day are a Gallic force to be reckoned with, running Ahilya with trademark je ne sais quoi.

Goan by way of Bali in style (traditional porous red brick topped with intricate carved roofs) it makes the very most of that enviable style of indoor-outdoor living, possible only in such tropical climates. Not a thing has changed, save for a few alterations to some of the guestrooms, since Leela lived here herself.

The reading room and living areas are full to the rafters with curios from around the world: decorated crucifixes, shell-covered wall hangings, hand-carved animals, plus enormous works by celebrated local artists. You half feel like you're perusing a V&A exhibition – Arts of Asia and Afar, only without all the DO NOT TOUCH signs and tetchy security guards.

Even the grass is exotic; it's from Europe. What an unexpected surprise to feel the softness of European grass beneath your feet, all the way out here in Goa. A testament to the attention that has been given to Ahilya's manicured, but unfussy, gardens. Horticulture may be something that escapes me, but even this novice's nose could detect the exotic scent of jasmine and frangipani on the evening breeze.

Or salty sea air, depending on which way the wind blows. The smell, sounds and sight of the ocean are a running theme throughout Ahilya by the Sea. I was staying in the Arjun Treehouse: bijou, but ideal for the solo traveller, and every adult's childhood dream. Throwing open the doors to my balcony in the morning, to see the Indian Ocean below, whilst chipmunks scurry between the branches, made it quite difficult to make my way to breakfast. Which, by the way, was certainly worth getting out of bed for.

Every table has an ocean vista, so you only need jostle with your dining companion for yours. By night, it's transformed into a candle-lit, al-fresco dining space. Utterly romantic with fine food to match. I got chatting with head chef Raju and hit it off right away. His sister lives in London. ‘Abbey Road’, he tells me. ‘I think there's some sort of music studio there?’.

Mercifully what Raju lacks in music trivia he more than makes up for in culinary skills. I opted for the three-course set menu. The most intriguing parcel of roasted courgette was swiftly placed in front of me. One mouthful told me it was filled with yoghurt and, I later found out, rucola cheese, mint, parsley and lashings of olive oil. The main course – Goan favourite steamed kingfish with grilled vegetables and zesty quinoa salad – was delicious, though far too healthy for me. I barely even let my poor waiter finish reciting what was for pudding before replying with the affirmative. Pound cake with a homemade mango coulis ‘And a scoop of roasted almond ice-cream’ I added.

Just before checking out, my laundry, which I’d rather shamelessly deposited a pile worthy of a student returning home from University (it’s a complimentary service – don't pretend you wouldn't do the same) was delivered to my room pressed, packaged, and quite literally smelling of roses. I was feeling quite at home in my little treehouse. Did I really have to leave?