The Travel Critic

Here’s a draft in a Giles Coren-esque vein: observant, amused, slightly self-deprecating, and ultimately affectionate.

I didn’t stay at Hotel Port 7. I can’t tell you whether the pillows are plump, the showers powerful, or whether the housekeeping folds the loo paper into little triangles that make people feel they’ve entered a higher social class. What I can tell you is that I stopped for a drink on the terrace, which is often a far better way of taking the measure of a place than spending the night in it.

When you’re sitting somewhere with a glass of wine in your hand and the sun on your face, rather than staring into the glowing abyss of a godforsaken phone, you start to notice things.

The first thing I noticed was the location. It occupies one of those enviable spots that seems to have won a geographical lottery. Boats bobbing about, people strolling past, the sort of view that persuades you to order a second glass because it would be rude not to.

The second thing I noticed was more interesting.

Virtually everyone who walked past waved at the owner.

Not the stiff nod of civic obligation. Not the awkward half-wave reserved for people whose names you’ve forgotten. Proper waves. Smiles. Greetings. The easy recognition that comes from being part of the fabric of a place.

And that tells you something.

Plenty of establishments can buy style. A clever architect can provide that. A decent interior designer can sprinkle cushions around and call it character. But substance is harder to manufacture. Substance is earned slowly, over years, through relationships, consistency and being the sort of place people are genuinely pleased to see.

Hotel Port 7 has style, certainly. The terrace is handsome, the setting superb and the whole operation feels effortlessly put together. But what lingered with me wasn’t the view or the wine. It was watching the steady procession of locals acknowledging the woman at the helm.

In hospitality, that’s about as good a review as you’re ever likely to get.

Anyone can impress a tourist for an afternoon. Impressing your neighbours, day after day, is a different achievement entirely.