Our arrival in Bali on the 16th August didn’t bode well. I had booked a villa online after having trawled through a hundred of them. It looked good on the screen but the reality was something else. I was heartbroken. We were in Bali to celebrate my husband, Mike’s, birthday. And then a good friend in Bali took us to Hotel Tugu and that was it. I had wept out of sheer disappointment when I saw the first villa and then I cried again when we walked through the imposing Balinese portals and entered the Hotel Tugu, Canggu – but this time out of sheer joy. We had wasted two nights at the grotty villa (we got our money back for the rest of the time we had booked) but we made up for it by spending eight glorious days and nights at Hotel Tugu. I had been warned that Bali had changed dramatically since we last visited 15 years ago. And it has. More shops, more bars, more motorbikes, traffic jams like you wouldn’t believe. Still fin though. Hotel Tugu became our Balinese sanctuary when we didn’t feel like shopping, drinking and eating out. Filled with precious Balinese antiques, and even more precious staff, we couldn’t have asked for more. Sumptuous breakfasts, a sunken beaten metal bathtub in our villa we could have hosted a party in, attention to detail that went beyond anything in our extensive travel experience. A personalised birthday cake, followed by a bouquet of tropical flowers were delivered for Mike in our villa. Every day was a joy filled with surprises. I cried one more time on this holiday – when we had to leave. Tugu had become our home.