Away Nights

You drive through, over neat pebbles, your bags disappear. A charming young lady in white over-top, full length black skirt, escorts you to your room.

Amansara began life, in 1952, as Villa Princière, guesthouse of the king. French architect Laurent Mondet designed a grass courtyard, about tennis court size with freeform pool in front - this is where guests stayed. Today, six 12m-high fabric banners, oranges through to yellow introduce a splash of colour. You walk past a narrow pond, filled with little orange fish and eight central displays of green foliage with stalks of white miniature orchids, to the new courtyard, opened December 2005 and typical of its architect, Kerry Hill - think of Sukhothai, in Bangkok. Sleek lines of straight columns and walkways create a cloister-like effect. In front of each of the 12 rooms are set two chairs and a table.

Suites are identical. Number 15 had dark wood door, and, behind glass, total-height shutters. Inside is a six by five metre vision of pale grey polished terrazza floors, off-white walls embellished only with a matching inset flowering tree bas-relief, and dark wood closet wall, central table unit and furniture. At the far end, down 2 steps, is a freestanding tub, hidden by the sofa on the upper level, and two side-wall rectangular basins, also terrazza, like the walls of the neighbouring wet area. The far end wall is entirely glass, with central doors (and white screens for night-time). Outside is an all-white courtyard, with three-metre high walls, another bas-relief at the end. Here you have a palm tree, a floor-set double bed and a four by four metre pool lined with Italian blue pearlescent tiles. There is also a fish pond, with orange and black miniature varieties, fed by a wall-set faucet.

Back in the room you have a private area, with toilet and walk-in shower (rainforest overhead, one wall of glass overlooking the terrace, Aman's toiletries in ceramic jars, and towels hanging immediately to hand). The perfectly firm double bed, facing the terrace, has a low wood headboard that is backed by the long desk, illuminated by the two ceiling-hung wicker lights that are also for in-bed reading, controlled by easy-to-find dimmer switches. There is a heavy coffee-table book of Angkor Wat photographs by the modern Ansel Adams, Jaroslav Poncar: you have a leather-bound copy of the current Amanresorts newsletters, and really intelligent color postcards. The complimentary minibar has full bottles of Gordon's, Stolichnaya and Johnnie Walker, and Schweppes tonic and whole limes, a welcome of delectable fresh lime squash and rice-wafer spring rolls. Your bath is already filled, with lotus blossoms floating, and cotton robes are laid out.

We borrowed black Japanese bikes, sit-up-and-beg with cane baskets on the front, for a tour of the locale, in the world outside (as it happened we had the amazing luck of being two metres from the King as his motorcade took him to a holiday residence down the road - peering out of the open SUV window he was waving in a most natural, and un-regal, way). Back home, we started with a swim in a secluded 25m lap pool, illuminated bamboo along one side, a high pebble wall the other. Then we plunged in our own pool, and showered, and went to the library to check emails. It was time for a drink.