Category Archives: City of the Month

Crete

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So here is the thing about Greek Islands. They are fabulous. Turquoise waters, fun in the evenings, dining around a horseshoe harbor, dancing to the beat of traditional music, grilled  fish and octopus and Greek salad, Wow, But when you are traveling, there needs often to be something else. Something beyond the hedonism and sun worshipping. That is why Crete is such an interesting place.

It is the most southern island in the Greek islands and runs parallel to Cyprus and its Italian neighbor Sicily. So, the weather stays warm deep into October. It’s a big Island with vast differences in terrain and full of mountains and gorges and spectacular scenery as you drive around the edges. The interior is high and dramatic and quite green. Mt. Ida is 8,000 feet and full of snow in the winter. You can ski it, but there is no ski infrastructure. For purists only.  

The Samaria Gorge is the largest gorge in Europe, 18 kilometers long and more gorges less imposing close by. There are Venetian harbors and Chania and Rethymnon are sensational seaports. The most beautiful beaches in all of Greece are found on the island. And then there is this ancient city of Knossos near Heraklion that sort of blows you away. 4,000 years old. A Minoan civilization operating around the same time as the Pharaohs in Egypt. This is the bronze age. And a reliably restored and ancient collection of temples and stairways and vases juxtaposed alongside the dreadful new town. But here it is. We arrived late. One hour before closing. No crowds. A few guides hanging around looking for tourists to take them around. And we almost had the place to ourselves. The most ancient city in our western civilization. Minoans. Here we have some semblance of their story before a series of calamities befell them and the Myceneans took over, until they too, were wiped out by an earthquake. The palace is preserved and restored and we owe much to Arthur Evans the English Archaeologist whose statue stands in the grounds of the palace. If you have the time and can avoid the crowds , this is a special visit amidst the intense natural spectacle called Crete.

Stanford’s Bookstore London

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Its tucked away in a modern enclave off Mercer Street in Covent Garden. It once was headquartered on Long Acre but moved just before Covid to its new quarters.  It is without a doubt, the most amazing travel bookstore in the world. Opened by Edward Stanford in 1853, it was primarily a mapmaker’s shop. It opened at the height of colonial exploration and cartography was in great demand. It has the largest collection of maps, globes and maritime charts in the world. It is an amazing place. Adapted to modern times, it survived the onslaught of internet commerce, became a truly international shopping place for all its wares and I have to say, if I had to spend 2 hours in a bookstore every day, this would be the place I would stay.

As a traveler, surrounded by globes, maps, books and guides and knowledgeable people who work there. It’s my favorite place to hang out. Nearest tube is Covent Garden. And one thing is for sure. Guidebooks remain more useful in print than online. They work perfectly. And if you only need a piece of a thick guidebook and can’t carry the whole book with you, tear out the bits you need, peacefully…and save them as a segment for someone else.

The Lounge chair 

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Maybe I am in the minority. The beach thing. I love what Italians call the stabilimenti.  The organized beach structures that are scattered along the Italian coastline. Complete with chairs, changing cabins, showers and umbrellas.  Originating in Tuscany in the early 19th century, they were conceived as a health retreat that protected privacy and became a fad along the coast lines. Rimini, Lido Venezia, all would be scooped up by the summer stabilimenti. Once the bikini was invented in 1946 and Italy shook off its fascist past, they became almost iconic as part of the furniture of the Italian coast line.

Italian politics 

Spiaggia libera or stabilimento?  Nowadays the  price per month of an umbrella and two beds on a beach in Italy is around $1000. And you own them temporarily.                                              

You are allocated a spot, and no matter what, if you have paid, that spot is yours until the lease runs out! Recently a bill in parliament was debated concerning the seizure of prime spots in the stabilimento. The early towel placers seizing prime location and disappearing until later in the day. Talk of a stabilimeto policing was discussed. Now, in a world where we have a good share of complications in general, it seems absolutely wonderful to imagine that this is being discussed in Italy while the country is perilously close to a return to Mussolini politics! Although in the end, it doesn’t matter. Its Italy. Nothing will really change. Except the government. 20 different prime ministers over 75 years! Ah. Italia!

Brighton

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“Ever since I was a young boy, I played the silver ball…” The Who

I love Brighton. I went to university there. I used to go on day trips when I was young, and even walked to Brighton with a few of my mates when I guess we had nothing better to do. 50 miles. Through the night. Stopped at every pub until they closed on us. Ah. The folies of youth. So, here I was on the London Brighton train for a college reunion of sorts. The train journey from Victoria takes 1 hour. Memories of youth as we sped across the English countryside enroute to the sea. I took a cab to the Hotel du Vin. Recommended as it’s in the “Lanes” and central to everything you need. We took the train out to Falmer, wandered around the university campus, rekindled memories of what I could barely remember and then headed back to the fun of Brighton proper.

Brighton became famous in the late 18 century as a vacation spot for the Prince regent, later George IV. Architect John Nash built the famous Brighton Pavilion in in the early 19th century just for him…decadent to say the least. Towards the end of the 19th century, the two famous Victorian piers were erected. Although the west Pier was “wiped out” in a storm. It has a metal skeletal frame and is preserved out in the sea for a potential future project. The Palace Pier, with its iconic fun, fair, roller coaster and slide still remains. I think the Santa Monica pier is modeled on it.

Brighton is famous for its labyrinthian lanes with shops and restaurants inside the tiny world of narrow alleyways that spill onto the seafront. Brighton is often called London by the sea. It has the buzz of a cool neighborhood in London, but with the super advantage of a sea front and a mix of traditional and modern scattered by the boat houses along the lower front. Sushi and jellied eels! Beyond Brighton, much to see. Lewes and Rottingdean stand out. I love the buzz of the place. If I lived in England, I think I would consider living in Brighton. But that’s another story. Another day!

Hotel du Vin Brighton

Summer in Rome

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I have been coming to Rome for nearly half a century. Following the same route into town. Turn left onto the Aventine, drive along the perimeter of the Palatine, Circus Maximus below, right past the Bocca de Verita, past the Teatro Marcello on the left, slow down by the stairs of the Cordonata and the majestic entrance to the Campidoglio where Castor and Pollux stand guard, around to the Grand whiteness of the Vittorio Emanuel building and the Piazza Venezia and you have covered 2000 years of history.  And I always smile at the thought on my mind.  It never gets old. The days are too hot, for sure. Blistering sun attacking the faithful tourists who struggle over those ancient cobbled stones. Trailing behind their guides and translators. Armed with headsets and hats to ward of the suns venomous rays. Desperate for that water fountain, the grateful residual remains of roman ingenuity and baroque decoration or the shade of a statue that has been providing cover for 5 hundred years. And it all seems so hot and impossible and then the sun breaks and evening time settles in, and the colors start their magical transformation. And then you realize that the show has just begun.

Summer Paris

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It’s the light. The summer sun hanging above the incredible array of places and monuments that are iconic. Paris is a masterpiece. Standing at the Carousel and looking down through the arches to la Defense, you capture the beauty of this place. The Tuileries in their dusty measured landscape detail, the surprises at the Luxembourg gardens as every day Paris gets on with its leisure life of tennis and running and Petanque.   In between sitting in the chairs that are scattered around for people with less sporty aspirations. And in the summer when the light remains until after11 pm it is simply magical. I have been coming here for many years. Every time it remains intoxicating. A perfectly laid out city. Not jumbled but precision layout thanks to monsieur Haussmann. And then the sights. One on top of the other. The Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, the Invalids, the Louvre the Musee d’Orsay and of course the Eiffel Tower. Glittering like a sparkler every hour. From the top of Montmartre, the city is a show unto itself. It’s good for the soul. 

Margate

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I haven’t been back to Margate since I was a kid.  Mum and dad would diligently save all their money so that we could have a 2-week holiday every year. Nothing fancy.  A train journey of about 4 hours to the Thanet Coast and a small room in Margate at a guesthouse.  We had to clear out for the day no matter the weather. Rain and cool weather. It didn’t matter. We would take our pack of macs to the beach and boil the water for some tea.

So. Here I am. Nearly a half century later. It was a sunny day. Very hot. and I decided to take a day trip from St. Pancras to the seaside and revisit Margate. My childhood holiday town. The journey was now about an hour and a half and from the station I was able to walk to the town. From a distance it looked vaguely familiar. A sweep of sandy beach. Tide was up. An ugly building that was my focal point called Dreamland, an amusement park that occupied our evenings and the pier in the distance. I walked the town. It was crowded and not quite what I remembered. The beach was full of windbreakers and deck chairs and people. Lots of people and  it was high tide.  Not much room to move. I walked to the old pier. Had some jellied eels and cockles with vinegar and wandered through  the old town and visited the Turner Museum. A change from  the rapture of heaving bodies on the beach. The tide needed to go out!! I thought of memories of holidays and was grateful that I came down.. Margate. Did it. I think it’s a memory better left undone. 

Venice, Taparelli and Ice Cream

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I guess, for me it all started with a visit to the Carnival in Venice.  February 2020.  I remember the spectacle. I had never really seen anything like it.  A piazza that looked more like a show, colors and masks and people parading around, posing and becoming photo opportunities for the tourists and the casual travelers.  Centuries condensed into a parade and a piazza turned into a Broadway show.  Leaving there, I remember thinking how extraordinary it was to have seen this event.  For all the years I had traveled to Venice, I had just missed it.  And as we drove out of Venice heading north, I remember thinking I had witnessed something special.  And then, Covid.  

Italy first, shut down and slowly this phenomenon engulfed all of Europe.  That was 2 years ago.  Now, I am heading back to Carnival and Italy to meet our staff and clients.  The suppliers who have just about survived these past 2 years with no business.  Some never made it.  Never to reopen.  For most of us, we are back and I cannot wait to hear the sounds of the Vaporetti, the lapping of water of the gondolier jetties and the winter light in beautiful Venice.  This is where it all began for me.  The windows closed. The doors shut. And now, they’re opening again.

Someone once asked me what I loved about Italy.  Was it the Forum, St. Peter’s, the Duomo, the Basilica in San Marco, the food, the wine, etc.?  The wonder of Italy is that the list is endless.  But it remined me of a funny story.  My niece lives in Rome.  She had bumped into Hugh Grant, the English actor, at a well-known bar and she had asked him what he loved most about Italy.  He paused and then said, “the beautiful darkness that hotel rooms afford me during the day!”  What he was referring to are the blinds in the rooms and in every house, apartment and shop. The Taparelli as they are called.  A moving curtain of metal slats that gives you utter privacy and solace from the sunshine and light. The bliss of absolute darkness in the afternoon for a snooze before an evening venture around the streets of Rome or Venice. Not, I hasten to say, venetian blinds.  A whole different story and a whole different century! And nowhere near as effective!! 

Taparella means a conveyor belt.  Sliding, rolling slats that interlock and offer perfect darkness. Operated electrically or on a rope-pull. They are one of the great inventions of Italia.  I always think of that great line in Life of Brian.  “What have you Romans done for us lately!  Roads, heating, bridges, sanitation, aqueducts, baths, and…Taparelli!”

Rue du Cherche -Midi

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There is a very cool hotel in the delightful neighborhood of the 6th arrondissement. It’s called La Belle Juliette. I have stayed there several times and always recommend it to friends. It’s reasonable and one of those places that immediately immerse you into the feel and touch of a Parisian neighborhood. It’s on the Rue du Cherche-Midi. A favorite street of mine. So called because a sundial was at the top of the street and was used as the clock for Paris for centuries. There’s even a French phrase that references the name. Chercher-Midi a quatorze heures. To find midday at 2 pm. To over complicate things.

It’s the home of several monasteries, a now defunct prison, and several very cool restaurants. A fantastic bar and café are on the corner of the Rue St. Placide and the Rue du Cherche-Midi. The 6th is where I would choose to be. A bit encompasses Notre Dame, St. Germain, the Jardin Luxembourg’s, and all along the river on the left bank. The bookstores and overpriced antique stores and the delightful Rue du Bac. It stretches all the way to Montparnasse.

And of course, the famous Hotel Lutetia, recently renovated and offering rooms at 1300 EUROS A NIGHT. YEAH RIGHT. A beautifully designed building, with its past a rich and checkered tapestry brilliance and blemishes. Jazz found its home here and the jazz bar still plays on. It was a part of the Belle Époque. Splashes of Art Nouveau stretching all the way to Deco. It sits opposite a tiny park and the busy Boulevard Raspail. I have stayed there many times when the Hotel Lutetia was a tad shabbier and afforded more affordable rates. It’s still worth a visit for the restaurant and the jazz bar. The rooms. Dunno. Too expensive, but I recall great views on the upper floors of the Eiffel tower! I’ll just have to do with the memories for now.

Paris

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Sometimes a city just has it. Paris is one of those places. Our office is in a small and quaint space nestled inside a residential building along the Rue de Babylon. It’s a stone‘s throw from the swish Conran’s store and the Belle Époque style Bon Marche, Paris’ super chic department store. It’s also the home to the Épicerie. Paris’ version of Harrods food halls and one of the greatest food halls in the world. And strangely enough there is a Chapel opposite the Department store. The Chapel of the Miraculous Medal that attracts 2 million visitors a year.

According to the story, the Virgin Mary visited a 23-year-old novitiate in 1832 with a request for medallions to be made to facilitate miracles. Catherine Laboure thus became the facilitator of miracles. And…there were miracles. A cholera epidemic was halted once medallions were distributed to the sick, a fire was halted that threatened to spread from the Bon Marche department store to the church and lastly, when they exhumed her body to place her inside the church, her body was identical to the day she passed away. A miracle indeed! As a skeptical miracle believer, it all makes a pretty decent story and more important the extraordinary site is jammed between the two trendy stores and a épicerie all on the beautiful Rue du Bac. So called because the ferry (The Bac) would moor at the bottom of the street and was used to transport the stone that was used for the construction of the Palais des Tuileries. A wonder of wonders. Our little and humble office is right in the middle of all these amazing non touristy apparitions!

Notre Dame Cathedral with Paris cityscape panorama at dusk, France

The Journey to Paris

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Arrived very early at St. Pancras station. It was organized but you need more time than I recalled. More time for vaccine card.  Proof of a negative Covid test.  And everything takes three times longer. But, at some point you get through. They give you a tiny card at French customs on the UK side and as long as you don’t lose the card you are good. The breathtaking journey to Paris.

Whoever remembers those awful journeys with flights from Heathrow or the ferries from Dover. I was musing about the absolute brilliance of bringing Europe together the other day. Brexit? Never going to happen. Boris Johnson. A joke. A clown. No way! Here we are. It’s all happened. Agghh!! But at least we have the train under the channel!!

Built over 5 years and opened in 1994 it has transformed access to Europe. Imagine. Two hours and 15 minutes. Thirty-eight minutes under the channel. 250′ feet under the bottom of the chalk seabed. The longest underwater tunnel in the world. Napoleon. Hitler. Nobody since 1066 has ever managed to breakthrough. Except the Chunnel. Even the EU got rejected. It’s a shame but at least we have the champagne bar to send us off as we go into the unknown. At least we have Europe. Well, hang on. They don’t want the Brits. The Chunnel was it. Brexit was the end! Oh well!

Corfu

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Corfu is an island well known by ferry travelers enroute to Athens. In the summer, ferries push straight on from Brindisi in Italy to Athens but off peak, Corfu is a stopover. It has one off the most charming towns in all of Greece. Corfu Town. The influence of Venetians is everywhere. Four centuries of influence. A castle and beautiful pastel-colored buildings with medieval cobbled marbled streets that house the usual souvenir stuff that I confess I’m attracted to! There is a cool bar and restaurant scene, lots of nighttime activity and several narrow passageways that offer mystery tours through the old town. It is probably the most beautiful town of the Greek Islands. Small enough to boast and show off its history and lively enough not to dampen the vacation spirits. And if course, in every plaza there is ample time to catch up on Greek salad, grilled octopus and moussaka. Whatever your fancy.

I had not been back for a long time. It was nice to get back into the travel groove again. Especially if you have been watching the gorgeously told TV series on the Durrell’s who lived on the island during the 1930’s before the start of the Second World War.

How to get there….I traveled from Rome to Corfu on Ryan Air. BA flies daily from London. There are several flights from Athens each day. Hotel Cavaliers Hotel is right in center of town and convenient to everything.

Check out the Hotel Cavaliers here:  https://cavalierihotel.gr/

 

 

 

 

An Evening Stroll Through Rome – Part 2

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I have a walk I always used to take in Rome in the evening. My first evening back for a year and a half prompts me to walk that route once more as an introduction to Rome. Start at the Pantheon. At the Piazza della Rotonda. Take an aperitive and say hi to the waiters who I have known for 30 years. The Pantheon is always a fabulous start to any walk in Rome. It begins at the start of it all. A perfectly preserved dome. Built in 125 AD and never replicated until Brunelleschi built the Duomo in Florence in 1296! Amidst this huge structure in the middle of old cobbled streets is Bernini’s elephant in the Piazza Minerva. And the gentle color on the sandstone buildings starts the evening walk. Ahead Bernini fountains and Borromini churches. The superstars of Baroque. Ronaldo and Messi of their day! Piazza Navona and the Campo di Fiori and Piazza Farnese. History jammed into three squares. Medieval, Renaissance, Baroque and Ancient. And in between ice cream, espresso and an aperitivo. Not necessarily in that order.

An Evening Stroll Through Rome- Part 1

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It’s the sunset that so attracted me to Rome all those years ago. I usually start at the Temple of Cats and make my way to the Campidoglio via the Piazza Venezia. The colors of a Roman evening are quite extraordinary. There is the Vittorio Manuel monument. Awkward and towering with its white marble uncomfortable in between the Baroque Domes and Medieval Church of the Aracoeli but it’s a vital landmark for those unfamiliar with Rome. The Cordonata provides a gracious entrance to the Piazza Campidoglio with Marcus Aurelius equestrian statue, a copy, marking the center of Michelangelo’s square. The Capitoline Museum, a treasure trove of Ancient Rome on the right but beyond and around the corner lies the real treasure. And I had forgotten how impactful that first sight of ancient times is. Breathtaking. The Palatine on the right. Oleander, Cyprus and umbrella pine all around and there is the Forum. The columns and arches, the Senate, and the path to the Coliseum. I first brought my parents here 30 years ago. I think of them and the memories of Rome and everything in between. At sunset.

Across the Divide

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My Roman friend has a system for crossing the road. I thought of this while trying to cross along the busy road opposite the Campidoglio. There is no zebra crossing. No traffic lights. Just a steady stream of unrelenting traffic both ways. There is no gap. No opportunity to cross. So, I did what he had suggested. I just walked out into the road slowly but confidently and amazingly the traffic simply parted. He always told me never to hesitate. Keep a straight line and keep walking. I must confess it took some adjustments. And of course, I always wave to the cars and scooters as a thanks as they slow down or maneuver to avoid me. They think I’m mad. Not to cross under their noses but to thank them! Very, very unItalian. It’s been a while. Feels good to be back.