InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort

Mr Smith is turning the big 5 0, so a tropical holiday in Vietnam seems the ideal way to celebrate his birthday. After counting down the days with our four-year-old daughter we arrive at Danang in the evening. Our taxi speeds through the fairy-lit township and we marvel at the bridges over the Han River. Our favourite is the gaudily coloured Dragon Bridge, in the shape of a long, undulating dragon which breathes fire from its mouth. We cross it, leave town and weave up into the peaks of the Son Tra Peninsula, past the towering, 67-metre Goddess of Mercy statue at the turtle-shaped Linh Ung-Bai But Pagoda, which looks serenely down on us and the magnificent sea views. Young couples lounge on their mopeds looking passionately into each other’s eyes and there’s romance in the balmy air.

A glorious, gorgeously illuminated jungle garden greets us as we enter the gates of the InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort. It still doesn’t prepare us for the dramatic temple of a reception hall, all black and white with flashes of red, which feels like it’s suspended above the jungle and beach far below.

Heaven, Sky, Earth and Sea… there are four levels to the resort, explains the driver of our golf buggy, as he whisks us to our room. We can see why, as the resort cascades down the mountainside to the ocean. Our Heavenly Penthouse feels suitably celestial.

I spy a frangipani tree shading our elevated private pool as we’re ushered into our courtyard. A Moorish outdoor bathroom flaunts a carved-stone central basin; the sumptuous sitting room boasts jaw-dropping views of the sea. We have one of those ‘pinch me, am I dreaming?’ moments, before flopping onto the luxurious four-poster and staring up at the swathes of fabric and lanterns cascading down from the high vaulted ceiling. We discover the pillow menu offers a choice of 10 pillows, but why change something that’s already perfect? Miss Smith is entranced by the bowls of tropical fruit (some of which we can’t identify), and we peel her some fresh lychees, which are met with cries of, ‘More, more, more!’

It feels very Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon when we wake the next day to the most spectacular horizons of sea and cloud-topped peaks. It makes us want to float through the jungle pulling kung fu moves. Instead, Miss Smith discovers you can roll into the private pool from the sofa via the lounge window. As she enjoys an early morning skinny dip, I brew some coffee using the Illy espresso machine and the family sits down for an early morning coffee at the pool bar – complete with hand-made chocolates deliciously presented on a glass-domed cake stand. What more do you need if you have coffee and chocolate with your two favourite people?

Breakfast beckons, so we hop aboard the Nam Tram, a steep funicular up the hill, cleverly designed in a traditional boat shape. On the ride to the top, we keep our eyes peeled for monkeys (we are climbing Monkey Mountain, after all). The attendant explains that they do have simian sightings, but you need to be up super early, and that isn’t going to happen if we can help it.

Arriving at Citron we gasp at the incredible vistas, although it’s hard to tear our eyes away from the riot of design. Bill Bensley, who created the resort interiors, has had so much fun. Fittingly, Citron is accented in yellow and lime, with quirky mirrors on the ceiling and outdoor circular dining booths that seemingly float in mid air. This is where we meet our personal butler, Tony, who immediately asks us our coffee preferences (good man). Not being used to the butler thang, we are a bit apprehensive about what to do with him, but more about that anon.

Totally over the top, the breakfast buffet caters for every multicultural taste. I embrace the Vietnamese pho followed by French toast. Mr Smith loves having his omelette cooked in front of him. Miss Smith has 11 different pastries to choose from and four different honeys – bliss!

The sun is shining so we venture back down on the Nam Tram to enjoy a dip. We plop ourselves beside the family pool in our own perfect little frangipani-fringed enclave, slap bang between the Long Bar and the Barefoot Café, with views of the beach. We discover a shallow sunbathing pool, sculpted to your body, and as I lie there admiring the black stone bottom, I swear I see a diamond! Turns out it’s just the sparkles in the rock. Chilled, lemongrass-scented face flannels are proffered, as well as baskets of fresh fruit. Unsurprisingly, we stay beside the pool all day, only leaving to lounge on the huge day-beds at the Long Bar, where we enjoy a pizza lunch washed down with local beer and Vietnamese iced coffee. A hookah, or shisha, is up for grabs at every booth should the mood take you.

My one attempt at activity is a mission to the spa. After sipping a cup of herbal tea, I’m whipped away by golf cart to the spa lagoon, tucked away at the far end of the beach. Its floating huts look like a mystical Asian village, and I do indeed float out after an uplifting Harnn Heritage facial.

Our butler Tony, who has already delivered teatime chocolate cake and champagne, works last-minute miracles with dinner bookings and arranging babysitting for Miss Smith. Come evening, we skip out the door for dinner at La Maison 1888, which resembles a French mansion. The cuisine is conceived by Michelin-starred chef Pierre Gagnaire. Scallops with green papaya salad gets the tastebuds working, chased up with pan-fried snapper for Mr Smith and lovely caramelised pork belly with gratin dauphinois potatoes for me. Good old French wine hits the spot as a heavenly way to mark a half century.