Simon Calder at 25: The best and worst places I’ve stayed

There’s been a lot of trips over the past quarter century... and a lot of hotels.

Here are five of the best places I’ve stayed...and five of the worst.

Christmas Day 1999 had not begun brilliantly for me, with an attempted mugging in San Jose and every bus in Costa Rica filled for the day. Happily, my wife Charlotte and I hitchhiked hundreds of miles south along the Pan-American Highway to the Esquinas Rainforest Lodge – a hotel that, for once, deserves the prefix “eco-”.

The cabins are built from fallen trees, the roofs are thatched with palm and there’s no air conditioning. The water for the swimming pool comes from a spring in the rainforest, while food is grown around the lodge or bought locally. Workers from the nearby village of La Gamba are employed, with preference given to those with children. And any profits that the lodge makes are given to the community.

Opened at the start of Spain’s tourism boom in 1961, the Playa Sol retains its retro good looks. For half a century, it has lived happily up to its name, with a pretty little beach all of 10 yards from the reception desk.

A magical location above the rocky Atlantic shore, with a gentle lake for stand-up paddle boarding, bikes for borrowing and superb meals. And all at Canadian, rather than American, prices.

“I have so far managed to book a yurt in Héas, unless I made a phonetic error and it will turn out to be a pot of yoghurt,” reported Mick (see Worst Journeys, 2003). Happily, it turned out to be a yurt, in a high-altitude village, in a field next to a family-run hotel where a mountainous feast was laid out for those of us who had trekked across the Pyrenees. After a deep sleep broken only by an orchestral mountain storm, breakfast set us up for another day of wandering. No yoghurt, mind.

I rarely return anywhere, especially with the family because so often it goes wrong the first time around. But they clamoured to go back for a second autumnal week in this blissful corner of the Peloponnese – for sailing, windsurfing, tennis and jollity as the last of the summer sun stretched towards November. An added bonus in 2018: a 6.8 magnitude earthquake, which fortunately caused no serious injuries anywhere, and demonstrated a benefit not mentioned in the brochure: a very solidly built structure.

…which despite its lack of appeal was overbooked. I ended up on a camp bed in the conference suite. Lucky delegates at the next day’s event.

Smelly and unwelcoming: no, not me, this mountain refuge where even a desperate shepherd would hesitate to shelter his flock.

When you have to wear all your spare clothes, including your underwear on your head, in a desperate battle to keep warm, until it’s time to check out. Fortunately I had a 6am flight to Vienna.

“No,” said the family, even though we had paid in advance.

“No,” said Charlotte, even though we had booked in advance.