Although greeted by an aloof front-desk staff who exuded nothing like the genuine friendliness of the employees at La Paz, the cavernous lobby in an ocean blue, complete with glowing blue lights, overcame their snootiness with its reverberating sense of refinement. Of course, the aforementioned treatment was probably because I was at least 20 years younger than their average guest. I looked like a downright clueless teenager next to the suits and designer dresses enveloping us.

Our room not yet ready, check-in being, I believe, at 3pm, we were offered a complimentary drink in their (blue) bar. Unaware that we needed a coupon for such drinks, we ordered up Pisco Sours for 22 soles each, mind-blowing compared to Lima prices we had encountered thusfar. They were served frothy and were exquisite, the best Pisco Sours we’d had, like an enchanting Pisco-enhanced glass of eggnog. The bar was also where we encountered Los Delfines’ features du jour—its two, male and female, dolphins. But our childish giddiness soon turned to subdued sadness as we saw the small, at least for these sizeable, graceful creatures, pool they called home. They jumped and splashed the windows of the bar and adjacent open-area restaurant, but even the most self-absorbed carnivore could see the longing in their eyes.

Our room was ready, and though still flooded with guilt for the trapped creatures, we couldn’t help but be sedated by the ivy-green carpet and blue, purple, and peach bedspread once inside. Moving on to the bathroom, which, as you may have noticed, is the highlight of any hotel for me, I almost fainted from overwhelming joy when I felt the baby-soft towels and washcloths. I was then subjected to Danny’s mocking after stuffing the El Jardin del Zen shampoo, conditioner, and lemongrass soaps into my already exploding suitcase. At least I left the shower cap, sewing kit, and shoeshine sponge behind.

I heard a strange knock after Danny had collapsed into the luxurious bed for a prolonged nap. Expecting one of his relatives to have already hunted down our room, I was slightly startled when I saw a smiling housekeeping staff member who quietly, in Spanish, offered me another hand towel and bath mat. Obviously shy about his English, he apologized several times for not being fluent in my language, even if it should have been the other way around, and proceeded to offer Delfines-branded chocolates of a rich, creamy consistency.

Relaxing for the first time in a week, I stared out our 10th-floor window over the quiet streets of San Isidro while savoring nut- and caramel-filled chocolate tejas from Helena (www.tejashelena.com). But, exposed to the dolphin pool below, my five-star meditation was not allowed to flourish into full-blown contentment.