Often, when we travel, my wife and I end up choosing &lsquospeciality accommodation&rsquo, a somewhat new fad of the &lsquoauthentic&rsquo travel experience. You can be Don Pedro in his casa, or the Maharaja of somewhere. But, as we&rsquove found out, on some occasions, one needs to be wary when choosing. These being non-standard hotels with often uneven service, if you aren&rsquot careful, rugs can be frayed, the staff racist, and the made-in-Okhla shampoo&mdashnamed jamun blossoms for effect&mdashsmell a bit like detergent. Also, a speciality hotel will show you their best rooms, but they might give you their worst.

So, only last month, I was staring at a horribly mildewed wall in Bangkok, in a clammy and windowless room smelling faintly of stale urine. It was authentic like we wouldn&rsquot want after a frenetic day that had started with Angkor at dawn it was rather expensive too, for a city full of cheap, good hotels. The brazen receptionist just didn&rsquot have another room for us either. So I informed him I had taken some rather unflattering pictures of the room, which I was going to immediately upload to a couple of choice travel websites. This threat, I have noticed, usually has the same effect as that of a cross being brandished at a stubborn vampire, as almost the entirety of speciality hotels&rsquo business runs on internet recommendations. The man looked shocked, nodded ruefully, and immediately got us a room in another of their hotels a block downtown. It was a lovely upgrade facing the Wat Arun across the Chao Phraya River.

We were treated to another speciality in Kochi. We had booked a suite at off-season rates in a pretty hotel by the sea. At the frazzled end of a long day spent watching boats race in Champakulam, we were dreaming of Munnar lemon tea and french fries as we dragged our luggage up the driveway. The receptionist seemed annoyed to see us and tried to give us a room which we hadn&rsquot booked. After some persuasion, we got the correct one. The next morning we were changing to go out when we heard a key turn in the lock. Seconds later a confused attendant hurtled in, shoving open the door. The ashen attendant&mdashnoticing our various degrees of nudity&mdashran for his life.