I bet looks a little something like this: a six-storey concrete block, an indifferent receptionist, a serviceable room with a view of a highway and a “continental breakfast” predicated on the assumption that people on the continent like to eat plastic-wrapped muffins and Corn Flakes decanted from plastic dispensers.

This was certainly my assumption when I booked a room at Venice Green Agriresort, less than two kilometres from Venice’s Marco Polo Airport (which is not, of course, in Venice as you and I would understand it, but on the industrial fringe of the lagoon about 20km drive from the city proper).

After a delayed flight and an argument with a Fabio lookalike who blatantly cut the taxi queue outside arrivals, I arrived at the Venice Green around 11pm. As the tires on the car of the enterprising stranger who accepted 15 euros for a lift crunched on the gravel driveway (I lost the argument), I should have realised this airport hotel is a little different. But it was dark and I was tired, so I was happy to take the keys from the surprisingly friendly woman on the front desk, walk to my ground-floor room next to reception and fall asleep in air-conditioned comfort. Little did I know what I would discover upon waking.

As the day dawned over Veneto, I stepped outside into the aroma of jasmine and wild herbs. I was on a long veranda (what the Italians might call a loggia), its pillars draped in creepers, with beds of lavender all along the front of the building. I was busy admiring my room’s shutters when I realised there was a crumbling villa across the white-pebbled parking area. I’m not talking depressed-industrial-area type crumbling, I’m talking aesthetically-pleasing-exposed-brick-and-weathered-copper type crumbling.

A brief stroll revealed yet more surprises. There were sprawling gardens, a koi-filled pond with a pretty stone bridge, a conservatorium. Yes, a conservatorium! You don’t get that at the Motel Formula 1.

Things got even better when I arrived at the breakfast room, which might more accurately be described as a sunlit breakfast terrace attached to another artfully dilapidated farm building. While the breakfast was by definition continental, on account of being served in Europe, it had absolutely nothing in common with the usual self-serve disaster.

A woman who could only be described as a nonna cut me fresh slices of cheese, salami and ham, then made clear through a series of hand gestures and repeated utterances of the word uovo that she would make me scrambled eggs as well. After a couple of esspressi, I decided it was time to further explore the grounds, which turned out to be quite palatial.

In my ramblings, I discovered that the Venice Green is part of an Italy-wide network of Agriturismos, businesses that are part working farm and part rural hotel. This one’s main business is hydroponic plant cultivatio, but they’ve also got cows, chickens and an adorable squad of donkeys who seemed to prefer each other’s company but were quite happy to be petted. You definitely don’t get that at the Formula 1.

The best bit, for a budget conscious traveller like me, was that while the Venice Green is no standard airport hotel, they’re still charging airport hotel prices. In low season you can stay there for less than you’d pay for the Ibis or the Travelodge (or the Formula 1) in Sydney: around $115 a night, twin share.

That’s valore molto buono if you ask me.

Originally published as Venice Green Agriresort is one of the best airport hotels I’ve ever been to