Mia Resort

‘OMG. Dad, you have to come and see this’. I was dragged from our stately four-poster by my Instagram-crazy, 15-year old daughter and led by the hand to the private infinity pool at the back of our suite. Even I had to admit that the view was pretty special: far out over the South China Sea and round an immaculate white-sand cove.

It’s not a bad start to this Smith family’s three-night escape at Mia Resort in Vietnam’s Nha Trang, and it’s a welcome respite after enduring a 10-hour train marathon yesterday, riding down the coast from historic Hoi An in ‘soft seat’ splendour aboard an aged workhorse of the Reunification Express. Express in name only, the family had agreed. So the local speciality – nuoc mia sugarcane juice – and light pudding we had been graciously offered on arrival at the hotel late the night before was especially welcome. We gulped them down in the cool splendour of Mia Resort’s reception area, open to the black starry sky, calmly watched over at a 45-degree angle by a seated Buddha.

A rather less serene topless Buddha with 16 arms greeted us over breakfast in the Sandals Restaurant, smiling placidly over the juice bar. We went Asian fusion, mixing maki rolls and wasabi with my new favourite dish, Vietnamese pho beef broth, together with eggs Norwegian and Nutella-slathered crêpes. All washed down with dragon fruit juice and the best cappuccino I had tasted east of Italy.

The bathroom is the most important part of any hotel for me, and la Mia didn't disappoint. But, I was left with a major challenge: which way to cleanse? A sunken marble bath tub so large I could almost do lengths, furnished with a prickly loofah and green-stone crystal bath salts? Or one of our pair of outdoor showers? Each with a modesty-protecting shield of bamboo trees and a sneaky door direct to our private pool, the banks of which were dotted with lounging blue-headed lizards? I wondered: could preprandial mojitos be delivered here?

Before hitting the harder stuff, green tea was the order of the day in the Xanh Spa, where Mrs Smith had convinced me to join her for the couple’s signature experience. So while young Master and Ms Smith gingerly tried their first facial massages – ticklish, but relaxing, we were later told – Mrs Smith and I were put into the care of two young Vietnamese women – with expert fingers – to guide us through our spa escapade. Stage one was being smothered head to toe in dark chocolate, good enough to lick, then wrapped in plastic and temporarily abandoned. With hot aromatic towels over my eyes, coupled with the masseuses’ lack of English, I had little idea what was coming next. Only a stifled giggle from Mrs Smith on the adjacent bed alerted me to the next new sensation. Our bodies were pummelled, scrubbed and soothed through the subsequent chapters of our adventure: a full-body massage and a sea-salt facial scrub finale.

As night was soon to fall, Mrs and Ms Smith scrambled over shallow rocks to reach the sea. After their escapade, we stayed by the beach for dinner, where a full moon, aided by an old-school paraffin lamp, provided all the light needed for us to peruse the menu. Feeling adventurous, Mrs Smith chose a meringue-based salmon dish, while the rest of the family selected more mainstream tuna sashimi, steak and meaty sandwiches. A Vietnamese jelly-and-fruit combo, served inside a coconut atop a banana leaf, was the dessert highlight.

The next morning, we decided it was time for some beach action. A blue flag fluttered in the southerly breeze, which we soon discovered meant that a summer storm was approaching, with heavy swell and strong foamy breakers. My 17-year-old son and I paddled out to the furthest possible point, marked by bamboo buoys, before we all retired to the relative safety of the resort’s main pool for free scuba lessons beneath the pineapple palms.

The pool, with overflowing Grecian urns marking out an area for the young to play in, was surrounded by immaculately manicured turf and trimmings, worthy of the world’s best golf courses, pruned by a team of gardeners sporting conical nón lá hats. I enjoyed the surreal show of them mowing the eco-friendly green roofs. They smiled as we mangled the complex intonation of the few Vietnamese words we’d learnt: cam on (thank you).

On our final night we’d planned to be adventurous and explore nearby party town Nha Trang. But Mia had us firmly under her spell, so we tried La Baia, her hideaway Italian restaurant. We walked around the coast from our suite to the far end of the resort. Along the way, we discovered tennis and basketball courts and a barn full of guest bikes. For dinner, we mixed and matched pizza with excellent local sea bass from the buffet. We had been offered the chance to host a private dinner on the beach, with a sizzling Vietnamese barbecue lit by four flaming torches around a linen-clad table. Too late for us to arrange on this trip, but the best possible excuse to return. Very soon.