Kumu Beach

We’d arrived at Sri Lankan boutique stay Kumu Beach in a frizzy-haired fluster: the heat, humidity and long car journey from Colombo had been tough, especially for Baby Smith. Kudos to the lovely staff who didn’t bat an eyelid at our unkempt appearance, but instead welcomed us with ice-cold Ceylon tea. I’m not sure if it was the welcome drink, the gleaming white entrance, or the gentle sea breeze, but stepping into Kumu Beach made us feel miraculously clean. Even when covered in baby sick.
 
The hotel is the only property along this sandy stretch of Balapitiya Beach (on the island’s southwest coast) – unfortunately not for long, it seems, as plans to build a giant apartment block are sadly but firmly in place (all the more reason to visit ASAP). But, during our stay, it was all ours to explore. And so we spent much of our time collecting sea shells and listening to the waves swoosh, froth and fizz. The rhythmic roar of the ocean was occasionally interrupted by the thwack of a cricket ball from a game being played further up the coast. Peace. We had travelled a long way for exactly this.

Well, nearly: there was an incident with a lost cow on the beach one afternoon: it bolted in our direction, we scrambled onto a boulder, Mr Smith flapped about, the confused animal wandered off – no big deal. Otherwise, there was no drama to report – unless you count the views, which were pretty dramatic. Skinny coconut palms leaned across the property’s manicured garden, reaching towards the Indian Ocean, seemingly as eager as us to linger over those paradisiacal beach panoramas. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long for guests to unwind here.
 
Back at the hotel, it felt like we were the only ones staying, thanks to clever design features. There are only 10 rooms, for a start, and the symmetrical layout of the communal areas maximises privacy and space. Twin open-plan living rooms (with beautiful batik cushions) are separated by a giant copper ball – the work of Sri Lankan artist Sanjay Geekiyanage, whose metallic fish sculptures adorn the hotel’s walls and ceilings. Vertically aligned terrace tables meant we were never sat next to other guests at meal times. Even the long, slim shape of the pool discouraged anyone from swimming at the same time – there seemed to be a silent ‘one at a time’ code, even though there was plenty of space for everyone.
 
The wooden door of our Ocean View room was marked with a string of seashells. As with the rest of the hotel, local designer Annika Fernando has kept things fresh and simple inside – a couple of blue-and-white vases and dark-wood panelling against plain white walls (what could compete with those sea views anyway?) And yet, it felt stylish rather than soulless. The bathroom was enormous, illuminated by a skylight above a pebble-floored open shower. Beside the four-poster bed, floor-to-ceiling windows opened out onto our small private terrace – the perfect spot to enjoy the hotel’s complimentary afternoon tea, served daily at 3pm sharp. I could’ve spent a lot of time doing nothing in that room and on that terrace, but, well, we were staying with a two-year old.
 
Baby Smith had squealed with delight when he first saw the pool and, internally, so had I. It’s the infinity pool of dreams. To the left, a neat line of ocean-facing day-beds looked wonderfully relaxing from where I stood (which was usually in the shallow end, performing the Baby Shark song). To the right, a hammock bed sat invitingly on an immaculate lawn, its curtains billowing in the breeze. I didn’t think it was possible at the time, but this patch of paradise became even more beautiful as the sun set against a purple-hued sky, transforming the tall palms into elegant silhouettes, as lanterns glowed around the edge of the pool.
 
‘It’s the perfect honeymoon destination’, mused a relaxed Mr Smith over a meal of coconut shrimp and seared tuna one night. It’s certainly true – all other guests were couples when we stayed – but families are made to feel just as welcome. The staff cooed over Baby Smith and didn’t seem to mind him charging around the place on the occasional post-pancake high. Kumu Beach caters to tired parents too, with on-site spa treatments and generous, tropical breakfasts. (Talking of which, special mention must go to the blueberry-and-coconut chai smoothies, which were heaven in a glass.)
 
On one afternoon we took a tuk-tuk ride to the nearby town of Ambalangoda to visit its mask museum, where Baby Smith gawped at the grotesque wooden faces that stared back at him. Another day, we glided through the mangrove forests of the Madu Ganga wetlands by boat, stopping off to visit a Buddhist shrine set on an island and a small, family-run cinnamon plantation. There are a few other decent local highlights, such as the estates of the famed architect brothers, Geoffrey and Bevis Bawa, or surfers’ paradise Bentota beach. But, we found, each time we tore ourselves away from Kumu Beach, we just couldn’t wait to get back.