The Danai

We called it the ‘Danai Effect’. It presented itself the moment we mentioned Halkidiki’s exclusive shoreside resort.

A week had slipped by – a sun-soaked, pine-infused few days of hot white beaches and turquoise water where we mingled with locals and tourists alike. But it was the second we dropped into conversation that we would be spending our last few days at this luscious hideaway that we’d see the reaction we coined the ‘Danai Effect’.

It would be a perceptible widening of the eyes, usually accompanied by an intake of breath, and a sudden straightening of posture. Always a slight pause, a general glazing over – then we would wait, we knew it would come: the stories would flood out.  

About the time an extravagant friend threw a birthday here, in a vast villa where the roof retracted to reveal a star-studded sky halfway through dinner. That every surface was littered with objet d’art. That we mustn’t leave before trying the hotel’s restaurant the Squirrel (surely an implausible name) – hands down the best restaurant in Greece. Were we champagne drinkers, by the way? The Danai’s wine cellar was stocked with bottles of bubbly flecked with 24-carat gold. And did we know the entire hotel was in fact hewn from one giant piece of marble?

We stopped trying to separate fact from fiction. The Danai had achieved mythological status already, and that was pretty good going for Greece. The anecdotes usually ceased abruptly with an interruption from one of our darling yet rambunctious little Smiths. At that point, eyebrows were raised. It wasn't voiced but we could tell what they were thinking: are you actually going to take those wild-eyed scruff balls to the Danai?

That was the plan. I have to say, we were a little scared and ready to be completely intimidated. But we weren’t prepared for what we found…

Yes, it was smart and extremely elegant. As you walked inside you got a feeling of complete peace and serenity that comes from such considered design. Rows of knee-high manicured hedges led the way to the white stucco reception which looked like more an Italian palazzo, with its sweeping staircase of marble leading and lines of terracotta pots spilling over with cerise petunias.

And yes, marble. They were right about that. Gleaming marble everywhere. Our suite, or rather two suites with an interconnecting door, two bathrooms and two separate loos (one for girls, one for boys) were glimmering with that opulently swirled marble. Our rooms were so spacious that you could actually quite easily (and thankfully) lose your children to another room, where soundproofing and double doors meant you couldn't even hear their squawks of joy as a water fight erupted in the dual shower wet room (freeing up plenty of time for mummy and daddy to enjoy their shower too).

And yes, around us were beautifully curated objects, on the walls were huge classical artworks and ornate gold gilded mirrors, antique clocks were discreetly ticking on mantelpieces, chandeliers glinted from high ceilings and bronze-edged glass tables held baskets of fruit, and bottles of the Danai’s own wine. Certainly it was over-the-top lavish, but still comfortable.

Wherever we went in the hotel, we were struck by how friendly the multitude of staff were. As if by magic they appeared at the poolside, happy to entertain the children while we relaxed and swam. We spent an afternoon on kayaks gently paddling the mirror-like Sithonia sea. On our return we were greeted like long lost sailors – did we need more towels, water, surely a cocktail? Ice cream for the boys?

One chatty waitress told us that almost three quarters of guests are ‘repeaters’ who have been coming for many years. We were beginning to see why. Certainly, celebrities are in on the act. I shouldn't say but we breakfasted alongside an A-list actor, wife and young family. Surreally, our children played together, bonding over chocolate doughnuts from the buffet (which also includes homemade smoked salmon, five types of honey, eggs any way you could possibly conjure up plus champagne on ice) as us parents looked on benevolently, chatting about the weather.

The high point of our stay was dinner at the Squirrel (it really was called that). We arranged for a babysitter to the room so we could stay out late although, by the way, the free kids’ club stays open until 9.30pm. In fact, the staff opened up the entire restaurant just for us as opening night was officially the night after our departure.  

Every table was laid with candles and starched white tablecloths yet we dined alone on the edge of the terrace with an ancient pine tree overhead, and an epic vista of the sea where sunset gradually gave way to an indigo velvet sky, pressed with diamonds. We worked our way through the delicate gastronomic menu, eating some of life’s finest food: lobster, crab, foie gras, sea bass and filet steak, all prepared in fresh and innovative ways to excite the senses. It was extraordinarily romantic.

So, do you see? Do you see what’s happened? Perhaps you’ve already noted my dreamy, wistful tone. I too have succumbed to the Danai Effect. I challenge anyone not to.