I set off, walking stick in hand, up the path from the hotel and pass by lovely little houses and a small church set amongst a field of flowers. The path leads towards the coast, and about a kilometre in, I am treated to a spectacular view of the bay of Portofino, far enough that the splendour of the undulating curve of the bay and the sea beyond is visible in its entirety, with the forest around me adding a special flavour to this viewing. Onwards I walk, encountering intrepid hikers on the way, many plaques explaining the differences in the various kinds of pine and mushrooms growing in that region, several fields of flowers and rosemary and non-stop breathtaking views. Cliffs drop below me into rocks and sea, and all around me is the gentle cool air of the forest and its fragrant paths. It is not always an easy hike; there are a few moments when I wish for a guide or a helping hand as I skip from one path past a massive rock and onto another. But it is worth every single tiring step just to get to San Frutuoso. When I finally make it (four hours later) and descend onto the path to the village, I see small boats anchored to the various landing moors of the restaurants of the village, one of which — Ristorante da Giorgio — is my stop for lunch. Stone steps overhanging the sea and bay are set with tables, and as I rest my weary feet and snack on a delicious freshly caught fish, I chat with the owner. He tells me to make sure to take a boat out to visit the larger-than-life submerged bronze statue of Christ, which is just offshore. The statue was placed on the seabed in the mid ’50s as an homage to the famous scuba diver Dario Gonzatti who had died near that spot in the late ’40s. It is a surreal and strangely moving dedication and when viewed either from a boat at low tide (as I did) or by scuba diving down to it (as I didn’t!), quite awe-inspiring.

I head back to Portofino on a local ferry and, as we approach the bay, see the lighthouse situated on the promontory, another beautiful landmark that I promise myself to visit the next day, along with the cemetery that overlooks the water and the beehives that produce the famed Portofino Wild Honey (still produced the same way that it was centuries ago, by Benedictine monks). But for now, the rest of my day is going to be spent relaxing at the Splendido, drink in hand, walking the terraced gardens, through the hallways with the hundreds of photos of its famous guests and hearing all the insider tales from the warmest hotel manager I have ever encountered, Ermes di Megni. It is this warmth and attention from the staff when one travels solo, which are very good indicators of the real heart of the hotel — after all, luxury is not just beautiful rooms and a beautiful view but also how at home one feels amongst it. There is nothing stuffy about this most magnificent of places, the waiters are always chatty, the staff is always smiling and no detail is too minor to remember.

The terrace is a welcoming place to spend the dusk-to-dinner hours; the Italian apertivo hour being sacrosanct, I take the time needed to do it well and then move on to dinner. The food is fresh, simple and delicious. . . freshly-caught fish and local produce, the wines of the nearby Cinque Terre and, of course, the views. Many a conversation stops mid-sentence as the sky changes colour before me or the lights of the village come on across the bay. . . making it a fairy-tale moment.

As the evening winds down, the piano player plays his old film tunes and regales guests with anecdotes of film stars who have sung along with him at this very spot and of composers whose tunes he has played while they enjoyed dinner on this terrace. The next day brings more discoveries and adventures but for the moment, with the moon casting its shimmering light over the water of the bay, the boats quietly bobbing in the warm breeze below us and the dulcet tones of the piano floating above it all. . . it is the most splendidly perfect Italian moment.