Hotel Cipriani, A Belmond Hotel, Venice vs Belmond Mount Nelson

The case for the Cipriani starts with the pool. It's the largest in Venice, set inside gardens people describe as immaculate, and it turns a city built entirely of stone and canals into somewhere you can actually spend a lazy afternoon. Add the private boat that gets you into San Marco in about ten minutes and back out again before the crowds peak, and you have a genuine strategy for doing Venice without Venice wearing you down. The breakfast terrace earns its reputation too, right down to the trained hawk that keeps pigeons off the tables while you eat.

The trade-offs are real and worth pricing in before you book. Restaurant costs run well ahead of what the food and service deliver, by more than one account, and the poolside restaurant in particular has drawn complaints about slow, inattentive waitstaff and a strict dress code enforced without much grace. One long-time family flagged a genuinely ugly encounter with the pool bar manager and event security that soured a tradition spanning three generations. Rooms have improved a great deal with the recent renovation, but at least one guest found the air conditioning couldn't keep up on a hot night, which is not a small thing at these prices. The new Dior spa, opened this year, is the freshest addition and by early accounts a legitimate reason to book, though it's too new for a real track record.

None of this cancels the pull of the place. This is for people who want a resort that happens to be in Venice rather than a city hotel with a view of it, and who'd rather deal with occasional restaurant friction than give up the pool, the gardens, and that boat ride. Couples and honeymooners get the most out of it; families with young kids may find Airelles or a quieter alternative fits better. Book it for the grounds, the pool, and that breakfast terrace.

The pink Cape Dutch buildings and gardens under Table Mountain are what people picture, but the reason people keep coming back is afternoon tea. Sommeliers like Zodwa and Craig walk guests through more than 70 teas with real care, the kind of ritual worth planning a trip around. It's the single most consistent thing here, and few hotels sustain anything that well.

Service ranges from thoughtful to careless. Michael checked in all week about a decaf tea order and fresh milk delivery; Wellington's personal tour set the tone for a whole stay. But a waitress during a rainstorm left guests to find their own shelter and rushed to present the bill instead, and the kitchen badly fumbled dietary requests at a 70th birthday dinner, serving eggs and chicken mayonnaise to guests who'd booked vegan. The pool deck's black marble side tables get hot enough in the Cape sun to blister skin on contact, which is a real hazard, not a quibble.

Next to design-forward rivals like Ellerman House, the Nellie trades on old-world theatre rather than newer design. The rooms are elegant but not cutting-edge, closer to a grand dame than a design hotel. That's a fair trade for most people, and nobody who's had the tea or booked the single-table Chef's Table with sommelier Lazarus walks away unconvinced. Book it for the gardens, the history, and that tea service: nothing else in Cape Town comes close.