Casa Amparo, Macau

We arrived by foot, because there is no other way, climbing the cobbles of Rua de São Paulo as the souvenir stalls handed out warm almond cookies and slivers of pork jerky. Casa Amparo hides behind a pastel-yellow facade midway up the hill, a 1920s merchant's townhouse with green louvred shutters and a worn stone threshold. Step inside and the hawkers' clamour gives way to cool shade, a checkerboard of black-and-white calçada underfoot, and the smell of strong Portuguese coffee. The reception desk is an old apothecary counter; a ceiling fan turns slowly overhead. From the first-floor landing we could already see the great stone facade of St Paul's framed in a window, close enough to touch.

The room

Our room, a Largo Double, was modest at twenty-four square metres but full of character. The walls wore a soft ochre limewash; the bed, dark carved camphor wood, was dressed in crisp white linen. The triumph is the bathroom, lined floor to ceiling in cobalt-and-white azulejo tiles hand-painted in Lisbon, with a deep enamel tub and brass fittings. Original timber shutters open onto the lane, where lanterns sway after dark. Thoughtful touches abound: a tin of locally roasted coffee, a stack of Macanese poetry, a hand-drawn map of the old town. The bed is firm, the linens cool, and the shutters, when closed, turn the room into a cool, dim refuge from the subtropical afternoon.

Casa Amparo proves Macau still keeps its soul a short walk from the slot machines.The Suite Edit

Service & food

The staff are warm and unhurried, equally at ease in Cantonese, Portuguese and English, and quick with a recommendation for the best egg tart on the peninsula. Breakfast, taken at a long communal table, leans Macanese: bacalhau croquettes, a pot of caldo verde, pastéis de nata still warm from a nearby bakery, and proper bica coffee. In the evening the kitchen serves a short menu of fusion classics, the minchi, that comforting mince-and-potato dish, and the African chicken both deeply satisfying. Best of all is the rooftop terrace, where a glass of vinho verde and the floodlit Ruins of St Paul's make for one of the most romantic perches in the city.

The verdict

Casa Amparo is for the traveller who comes to Macau for its UNESCO old town rather than its baccarat, history lovers, slow walkers, couples after atmosphere over amenities. It will frustrate anyone wanting a pool, a gym or anything resembling a resort, and the cobbled approach is unkind to wheeled suitcases and weak knees alike. The honest caveat is the daytime tide of visitors: the lane outside is one of Macau's busiest tourist arteries, and from mid-morning the crowds are relentless. But they thin by dusk, the lanterns come on, and the townhouse becomes a pocket of calm in the loveliest corner of the territory.