Tella Thera

I firmly believe that there are three quick ways to gauge the quality of a hotel. One: the slippers. Two: how aspirationally the staff are dressed. And three: the breakfast. Bonus points if it has a signature scent. Minus points for insufficient bedside sockets, ungenerous drinking-water provisions and bedding anything short of marshmallowy. 

That Tella Thera smells incredible, inside and out, even in the gym; that its lovely staff is impeccably dressed in different iterations of earthy, uncreased linen; that I take the slippers home with me; that breakfast is half small-but-perfectly-formed buffet and half artful à la carte; that water and charging ports are plentiful and the bed an XL cocoon of soft, white loveliness should tell you everything you need to know about its calibre. 

But that would make for a very short review. 

So let’s backtrack a few days to when I arrive at Chania airport, footloose and family-free. Due to a scheduling issue with a Christmas advert requiring a giant shoe that Mr Smith was producing, he and Mini Smith have been held up in London while I fly to Crete to start our family holiday solo. They’ll be here by the weekend but, alas, by then my stay at Tella Thera will be over. Sucks to be them. 

From Chania, it’s 40 minutes west to Crete’s newest boutique hotel. Descending down two steep hillsides above the Bay of Kissamos, Tella Thera rises from the olive groves, all sandy-toned and smooth around the edges. Each of its Aegean Sea-view suites is set apart in its own gardens, native plants blurring the lines between luxury hotel and farmland.

Which is, really, the whole vibe. There are a lot of intelligent things Tella Thera deserves to have said about it: lofty words about bioclimatic architecture; how the light plays through its passageways; how the restaurant crockery speaks the same tonal and textural language as the landscape and bedroom mirrors follow the curve of the branding… 

It’s all infinitely pleasing, even to the untrained eye. But you really want to hear about that from someone qualified — Loukas, say, one half of Tella Thera’s charming power-couple owners, who appears to attend every single check-out personally.

What you should take from me is that it is completely possible to have the perfect day at Tella Thera. It might be impossible not to. Don’t believe me? Esteemed guests, readers, may I present to you the perfect day: 

You wake naturally — not with the dulcet cry of a toddler nor the snore of a spousal Smith. The only sounds are distant bird chatter, and the gentle rustle of palms. 

You have coffee in a big, white bed with the curtains open (naturally they open and close via a bedside button). Beyond them: a terrace. On it: a plunge pool. It is yours and yours alone. Beyond that: olive groves, sloping down to a blue-hued bay. The occasional boat crosses. It doesn’t matter where it’s going, you have nowhere to be. 

You step onto your terrace, inhaling the scent of rosemary, then pad down to breakfast, taking a table outside. Because it’s warm (read: you are not in the UK). You eat fresh fruit and nuts, poached eggs and toast, and a cheeky little orange cake number. It’s just the right amount. The coffee is excellent; this must be a good hotel. So far, so good. 

The sun is out, a light breeze is up. It rained overnight, so the air is fresh and the plants perky. If you did want to go somewhere, you could take a boat to one of Crete’s best beaches, hike a gorge or wander Chania’s charming Venetian-Grecian-Ottoman streets. But you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything. 

You hit the pool. By which I mean you lie in the sun, on a day-bed, reading a magazine. A magazine! You do languorous lengths looking out to sea.

This happens on repeat until mid afternoon, when you slink down to the spa. There’s a spa? Of course. In the subterranean Thaleria Spa, designed around the four elements and the pillars of Greek stoicism, you have an otherworldly aromatherapy massage. It is utter heaven, obviously.

Back on your terrace, you drink herbal tea swathed in a fluffy robe, watching the sun sparkle on the water, an unopened book by your side. As the sun sets over the hills, you swap the tea for a glass of fizz. Have you ever been more relaxed? Sure. Recently? Absolutely not. 

At dinnertime, you head down the central stairway to Anemoia restaurant, which overlooks the pool and bay beyond. You have a big glass of excellent local wine, a peppy courgette salad and marathopita, a traditional fennel pie elevated with a rich bisque situation, a spectacular plate of yoghurt- and thyme-marinated rooster, another (bigger? Excellent-er?) wine, and an indulgent (not overindulgent) chocolate dessert. 

Or — because the perfect day is choosing your own adventure — you order a pulled-pork sandwich to your suite, and watch Mean Girls in your robe. Nobody’s judging. 

Then, without having to hit a deadline or wrestle through a baby’s bedtime, you get back into that big white bed, shut down your suite with the press of a single button, and sleep.

You have witnessed no rush hour, no meeting and not a single nappy change. It’s the perfect day. And at Tella Thera, I get to do it over and over again. It is the antidote to, well, everything. 

Tella Thera’s mantra is 'disconnect to reconnect'. I sense this is more about a connection with nature, say, or loved ones, than leaving your entire family in a different country while you take yoga classes and day drink by a pool, but I do meet Mr and Mini Smith at the airport renewed, restored and ready to Mary Poppins a toddler through a jolly holiday. 

Which, to me, makes Tella Thera nothing short of magical.