The Lighthouse Hotel, Galle

Geoffrey Bawa was some architect, I can tell you. The Lighthouse Hotel in Galle was commissioned by Jetwings, a big Sri Lankan hotel and travel conglomerate, and Bawa went for it. You'll find the Lighthouse in many guides to uber-funky hotels and with reason, because Bawa has undoubtedly created something special here: cubism meets colonialism, clean lines and petal-strewn pools mix with rock-face walls in the most amazing way.

The steel, welded figures of Sinhalese warriors spirallining up from the lobby to the roof above as they fight immortally down the staircase are a strange and wonderful thing to see, a pleasant and tactile stroll up the stairs wondering if this is tasteful or disgusting, amazing or just tacky. Jury's still out, by the way.

But if you stay at the Lighthouse on the strength of those funky guide pictures, you'd be in danger of being romanced by the lens: the reality is a little faded, a little cracked and let down by years of indifferent maintenance.

The sea-front decking area is an amazing place to sit for a drink, especially when the waves are up. The indoor area here is the Cardamom Cafe, the hotel's coffee shop, effectively, where buffet meals are served. Most people eat here - we were to find out why.

Chris Ong had told us not to, he later claimed. He'd recommended we go there to take a look. We misunderstood. We booked dinner at the Lighthouse's Cinnamon Room restaurant.

Mohitos at the bar were great. And then we went into the dining room and were stunned, once again, by the visions of Bawa. It was like being in a period drama: a huge brass-fitted, wooden-panelled room, surrounded on three sides by ceiling height windows covered with white linen curtains. A stormy night outside meant plenty of atmosphere and billowing. The room was a colonial dream, set for a hundred diners and more, glittering tines and starched linen everywhere.

We were alone.

This is not a good sign. But we went ahead with our trip around the very expensive menu, fortified by Mohitos and the sheer wonder of the room we were in. And what a menu! Lobster bisque, tournedos Rossini, Magret de Canard, soufflés: the forgotten food of Larousse and old Michelin guides.

I can honestly tell you that the food in the Cinnamon Room is never less than utterly disgusting. A canned bisque with gelid lumps, tough meat and Maggi sauces, (the duck was gross) a soufflé that was utterly unrecognisable as such: a small, hardened lump of pale, flaccid snot on a plate. It was so bad, so very bad that we didn't even bother complaining. We just drank a lot, paid up and left.

You can't complain at that level: you're just going to be utterly unpleasant.

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