Category Archives: Travel

Stuff to take with you…

Dear W Letter

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Dear W,

We’ve been sleeping together for 15 years.  We have grown familiar with each other – and we’ve grown old together. Except I go to the gym and try and stay in shape – and I’m sad to say that you don’t. So here’s the deal. I’m leaving you.

Yes, I might miss those evenings in the king-sized bed, but here’s what I won’t miss. You’re not as fun as you used to be.  I remember when I first met you, the room was clean – I could actually see our future out of the window across Times Square. And the bathroom shower worked. The air conditioning duct didn’t fall out when I bumped into it. And every light bulb seemed to glow when I turned the lights on. You’ve really let yourself go.  The colors you are wearing are the colors of 15 years ago. Everything is bland and what used to look fashionable, now looks faded. Room service arrives when you don’t request it and when you want it, it never shows up!

It’s not me, it’s you.  You bought me extra drinks to hide the cracks – you’ve upgraded my room because the previous one was broken or I couldn’t see out of the dirt-caked window. But you know, the time has come.  It’s not working.  The kids have grown up. I’m moving on.  I don’t even want to be your friend.  And I might even share this break-up with my buddy TripAdvisor.

No longer yours,

Peter

 

 

Asparagus Season

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Asparagus Season

The season of asparagus is on us. In Germany it’s practically a religious institution. Spargel is everywhere. They put dollops of hollandaise on top to negate the healthy calories of the green, but what I love most about asparagus season is wandering through the supermarkets of Paris. In France the true delicacy of the asparagus season, is white asparagus. So how is it done? How do you sap the color from asparagus?

It’s simple, you deprive it of light, like in Plato’s cave. That process is called etiolation and it’s supposed to make the stalks weaker. There’s something fabulous about white asparagus, cultivated as it is, under a cover of earth. Its texture and taste are completely different. The season is now – it’s much thicker than a regular stalk of asparagus; more brittle and simply delicious.

So why does it taste so damn good? I have a theory. Imagine you’ve been buried under a mound of earth for the whole winter, and suddenly someone comes and shows you the sun. It brings color to your cheeks and a smile to your face…before of course you are plunged into boiling hot water and served to someone like me. Incidentally be careful of pairing with wine. Asparagus is not great with tannic red or oaked wines – unless of course you slather it with hollandaise.  Luckily for those who can’t imagine a meal unaccompanied by wine, Fiona Beckett at Matching Food and Wine – has put together a helpful list of wine and asparagus pairings.

The Acela Train That Couldn’t

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Not to rag on the ACELA train that services the Boston – New York – Washington corridor, but it is a particularly painful experience, costly and inefficient. Compare the Limoliner at $89 where the wireless works, the seats are like first class on an airplane and you get movies to boot vs. the ACELA at anywhere between $130 – $275 where the wireless rarely works, the service on board in first class is a joke and in business class non-existent and there are no movies. Not to mention that you leave from a beat up station like South Station in Boston and arrive at one of the most horrendous in the world, Penn Station in NY. It’s grimy, it’s confusing, it’s full of people who seem to not be catching trains.

And you wonder why America runs on Dunkin’ or buses rather than trains. The journey time is more or less the same, except you have a far greater chance of being delayed on the train, than on the bus. But it’s the service that really stands out. The Limoliner wants you to come back. Amtrak doesn’t care and what’s more, given that the price is half the price of a one-way ticket by air, you would think that the appeal of the train would inspire Amtrak to try and make me want to come back.

I haven’t given up, but I find it incredibly frustrating that in this day and age, when trains are flying along in Asia and Europe at speeds of 200mph or more with friendly service and efficiency, that we seem still to be tied up with a ragged antiquated system along the Eastern seaboard, which is a prime artery for train travel. Boston to Washington, DC (about the same mileage) takes roughly 7 hours and that’s on the fast train. We could learn a thing or two from the Italians: Rome to Milan – about 362 miles in just under 3 hours.

 

5 Ways to Make Sure Your Flight Goes and That You’re on it

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So what do you do when the forces of nature or mechanical problems cause a cancellation? Get rebooked ASAP because more often than not it’s first-come, first-served.  I misconnected on a flight from Geneva to London recently and eventually when I arrived at Heathrow it seemed that the whole world had suffered delays. The lines were unspeakably long; airline staff was pushed to the limits and I knew it would take me more hours than I had to connect to a flight that would get me back to Boston. This is where it pays to do the unconventional – don’t follow the crowds! Think quickly.  I went out through passport control, pretended I was arriving in London, went immediately up to departures, (pleasantly queue-free) and checked my options there. It worked!

In these days of trending away from travel agents and into DIY travel, you leave yourself exposed to the long lines that are choking your options, and the not-so-friendly folks who are overloaded too.  Does this sound terrible? Well, not really because it doesn’t happen as much as you think. But when it does happen and you’re stuck in this vortex of panic – be aware and be ahead of the game. Firstly, get to the front of queue as fast as possible.  If you have a responsive travel agency (like ACIS!) that booked your flights, contact them immediately – they can see things and evaluate a whole ton of options that will take you hours to figure out. Be alert and notice the signs of a potentially cancelled flight: delay, upon delay, upon delay, with very little explanation. And probably the hardest part for most people – you have to walk the fine line of being pushy, without being a pain. Airline personnel are invariably nicer to the nice people who understand what they’re going through as well. Get nasty and they’ll get nasty too.

Fun facts that would be nice in a carefree and no money limits world.

  1. Fly Internationally – these planes are huge and expensive to cancel.
  2. Don’t fly across the street – regional flights are 3x as likely to be cancelled than larger planes.  And they suck. There’s no room for bags and if you thought the drinks tray was scant on a big plane, you gotta check out the scene on one of these babies. And let’s face it, when those planes change direction it’s not subtle.
  3. Be important – seriously. No one is going to cancel Brad Pitt’s plane, assuming he doesn’t have his own. If you’re not important, look important.
  4. Borrow a kid – families get priorities on rebooking. Traveling solo? Saddle up next to a family of 5 and strike up a conversation. It helps if it’s Brad Pitt’s family.
  5. Avoid high season – flights are packed so if yours gets cancelled, good luck squeezing onto another one; winter travel is easier to rebook than summer travel so chances are you’ll be re-booked faster in the winter than in the summer when the airlines have less capacity to play with. Sure, it might mean a ski holiday or a freezing fortnight in Europe rather than a balmy Paris in July holiday, but these are the cards we are dealt!

Forget the list and take your chances – Imagine a world without delays, without mechanicals and with lovely weather. May the force be with you. The stats are.

The Tale of Two Toilets

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A Tale of Two Toilets

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. A journey across the Alps often began in medieval times  at the ancient crossroads of the Castle of Chillon; beautifully situated on the Northern Shores of Lake Leman, it is a stunning sight engulfed by snowcapped mountains. This fortress was rarely breached, and inside the fort to this day, there are fantastic remnants of original furnishings, art work and tapestries.

The most interesting thing of all, are the ancient latrines – jutting out over the lake, some forty feet higher than the lake itself, the auto flush was better than your state-of-the-art septic system.  Interestingly enough, the latrines were considered a vulnerable aspect of the fortress.  When attack was imminent, considerations had to be made to deter the onslaught, all sorts of nasty organic weapons could be used. Biological warfare!  Probably everyone in the castle was force fed prunes before the attack.  In other words, if someone wasn’t sitting on the latrine at all times, the fort was vulnerable and the kingdom could be breached!

toilet

Fast forward to modern day: the Swiss have gotten a heck of a lot better with their state-of-the-art latrines, but over on the Italian side of the Alps, things look pretty much the same as they did in the 13th Century in the Chateau de Chillon. All apparently in the name of hygiene, at least that’s what my Italian friend told me. Yeah right! I’ll take my chances.

Ice Cream in the London Theater

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Ice Cream in the London Theater

It’s not just a matter of –re or –er, though for some it’s enough to start a polite brawl,  if you love theatre you’re sure to have an opinion about Broadway vs. West End.  An argument for why London theatre is superior, an argument which has no rebuttal, is a simple one:  Broadway doesn’t have ice cream in the auditorium. The West End theatres do.

Theatre in London, despite prevailing stereotypes, is not a posh affair.  It feels much like a sporting event at half-time – vendors with ice cream on trays and everyone clamoring for the elusive strawberry cup. My choice, always vanilla. Losely Ice Cream is the crowd favorite. The utensil? The best wooden tiny spoon available, of course!  And let’s not forget the wine with your name on it, that you’ve pre-paid at the beginning of the show. It is why I simply cannot abide no intermission theatre!

To my mind, the key element of a play is an intermission glass of wine (probably put you to sleep) and then an intermission ice cream cup (definitely keep you up) to see the rest of the play. The downside of taking your ice cream with you to your seat, is that when the lights go down, there’s a fairly good chance that you might miss your mouth. And ice cream does drip after all! Still it keeps you on your toes, and more importantly keeps you awake during dreary performances. In addition, Ice Cream keeps you deliciously satiated during uplifting performances.  I’ve drifted off. It’s happened to me, it will happen to you. It’s happened in London and New York – and usually it is measured by the quality of the performance. Feeling sleepy? Bad play. Definitely need ice cream.

The plays come and go – some spectacular, others forgettable. But what never disappoints, is the ice cream. The history of ice cream in the theatre is up for debate, it was certainly introduced sometime toward the end of the 19th century and almost certainly by an Italian, or some say a Swiss Italian. Talking of posh affairs, it was actually introduced to the Royal Opera House as late as 1967.

Quite recently I saw an Arthur Miller play in London and had seats on the stage. The seats were fabulous, the play “View from the Bridge,” was amazing. But there was no intermission AND ice cream was barred from the stage seating. As much as I loved the performances, I couldn’t recommend it!

Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

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Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

Nothing is open and because it’s the law, shops can’t open either.  My first thought is that it’s because the shops took all my money between Monday through Friday. When you charge $15 for a cappuccino why bother opening on a Saturday or a Sunday? In fact, the prices in Switzerland seem to be calculated on fewer sales’ days per year.

At first one resists the urge to slow down because It seems so unnatural, and life screeches to an abrupt halt on a weekly basis.  But perhaps it is this forced relaxation that keeps the Swiss culture so balanced.  So on a Sunday you go for walks if the weather is nice; you watch dreadful TV,  take photos with Charlie Chaplin (with detox in the background) purely coincidental, or go skiing again.  The resorts and other tourist points of interest, of course, are exempt from this law.

Walking around Lausanne looking for somewhere to grab a bite, grab a beer or grab a cab even, is a mission improbable. Let that one go, yah, it’s nice to go from Evian to Lausanne on a boat, but even the boat doesn’t provide too much in the way of refreshments on a Sunday. Overall it reminded me of Britain in the 1950s. Governed as we were at the time, by laws created by the Lord’s Day Observance Society, we were forbidden from having fun, from buying anything.  Our television programs were centered around songs of praise and TV would end at 11:00pm on the dot. I used to simply loathe Sundays.

My Sunday in Lausanne took me back to the glory days of the 50s, but was saved by a visit to the fabulous Hermitage and the Olympic Museum.  Crowded by tourists and Lausannians, looking for something to do on a Sunday, other than ski.

Skiing is Believing

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Skiing is Believing (especially when you get old)

When you can’t see a thing
in front of you, visibility is zero,
and your confidence
is becoming increasingly
shattered – skiing is believing.

When the possibility of being plowed
over by a 16 year-old going 100mph
or dropping into the crevasse
never to be found again is increasing
and you have to anticipate the mogul
around the corner.

Somehow you have to believe
the skis will guide you home.
As improbable as it seems
at 10,000 feet in a blizzard.

Man against nature,
the will to survive,
will carry you through.

And this is on piste,
on an intermediate slope.

 

 

Introduction to Swiss Economy 101

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Introduction to Swiss Economy 101

Now that the Swiss Franc is finally unplugged from the Euro and prices have gone up by around 30%, Switzerland has finally come clean and taken over from Norway and Japan as the most expensive cup of coffee in the world. Even more expensive than that is St. Mark’s Square!  It got me to thinking, what is it about this landlocked country that was famous for its neutrality during the war, what is it that makes this place such a success?  Walking through Geneva airport, you are struck by ads for banks, watches and Roger Federer, but what is the economy of Switzerland really all about?

It’s a mélange of laundered money, dry cleaned money, and ill-gotten money in banks protected by mountains (of bureaucracy) and lakes of cash – and lots of fresh air to hide the dubious underbelly. Throw in cheese, tourism, pharmaceuticals, and skiing and you have an ideal setting for The Sound of Music and the perfect setting for my annual ski trip.

Ode to Selfie Stick

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Ode to Selfie Stick

I gave away my selfie stick. It had traveled with me from Venice to Rome to Miami to Havana, where I left it in good hands. I didn’t take the decision lightly – it was my first selfie stick after all. The selfie stick is a crowd puller for sure and once you start, it’s irresistible. I bought it in some market in Venice.  The vendor saw me eyeing it. You see, the hook is the stick itself – I was already sold.  It looks like a sort of James Bond thing or an Inspector Gadget contraption. How much? How do you push the button?  Out from the vendor’s pocket emerges the requisite Bluetooth remote.  He sells me that too.

As an aside, the guys who sell the selfie-sticks are a real testament to entrepreneurial spirit.  As soon as there is a spot of rain, they’ve disappeared the selfie stick and are selling three different kinds of umbrellas for your protection and your pleasure. These guys are the future leaders of industry; I have no idea where they keep their inventory! The selfie stick becomes the umbrella, the umbrella becomes the glow-in-the-dark parachute, and at the end of the evening, everything turns into roses.

I used it in Rome all the time, but the only problem is that when in Rome, the selfie stick attracts a lot of attention. Unfortunately some nefarious types are more interested in what’s at the end of your stick, then in the stick itself. Alas, it was the sole survivor of my first (and hopefully last) Iphone theft of 2015. I got another phone and took the selfie-stick to Havana.

Going into it, I didn’t know that my selfie stick’s journey would end in Cuba. After so much adventure it seemed like the right place for it. They’d never seen the likes of it before and it became a fabulous ice-breaker. In the end, our bus driver was so impressed by the power of my selfie-stick, as it were, that the minute before leaving the airport in the midst of saludos, I made a fateful decision. I gave our tour guide a tip, a bottle of something, and then almost spurred on by something greater than myself:  Necesito ofrecerte un regalo. I handed him the selfie stick and followed it up with the Bluetooth.  Parting is such sweet sorrow.  But never again would he need to ask someone to take the picture.

 

Buried In Snow

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The week just got buried in snow. Honestly. Boston looks like a ski resort. My street has walkways that remind me of those pictures of First World War trenches. Cars are buried, even cop cars, and there is nowhere to put the snow. Didn’t the Russians develop a heating solution. It seems like it would be so easy. Snow does go away. And on top of all this, I am heading to Stamford CT for a meeting, plus DC for another meet.

Stamford is our corporate HQ and not the greatest town. It’s main attribute is that it is 40 minutes from NYC. It is slightly soulless and dead after dark. It’s also astonishingly, the most expensive place to live in the Usa. I don’t believe this little gem. It just can’t be. It’s dreadful ! Great week to be traversing the north eastern corridor! For now, I am looking out the window of my country house preparing to go out with snow shoes and shovel the roof, and enjoy this stuff as if I were a kid again

Alitalia – Rome Miami

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Alitalia – Rome Miami

Flying business from Rome to Miami on Alitalia should be a treat. But really the service, the good, and the comfort of the seats on the 10+ hour journey,  is a joke. They have a casual approach, I guess, to the whole experience.

The movie selection was grimmer than flying TAM.  There was an awful film called La Grande Bellezza, about an aging movie star in Rome who smokes a lot of cigarettes and seemed to get off with young woman. It was pure and absolute misogyny and dreadful to boot.

And I never expect to eat anything other than appalling food on an airplane, but frankly eating something is a way to fill in the hours.  If you’re on BA or any number of half decent carriers, the food is OK – not brilliant, but OK. On Italia it is at the highest level of inedibility. The land of pizza, pasta and gelato – you would think, could rustle up something that resembles something edible. The land of prosciutto and parmesan – surely there must be somebody in charge of the kitchen of Alitalia that could make my 10 hours a bit more interesting!  How they managed to get awards for their meals, is beyond me. Perhaps the reviewer was promised an antidote in exchange for a good review?

But the food, this was business or as they call it Magnfica. Even the picture on their website looks like the food stylist took the day off.  Two kinds of putrefied pasta and a risotto you wouldn’t give to your dog. Fearful for my life when I saw the meat dish, I opted for the fish as the follow-up. One bite into the branzino and I realized that this baby had been cooked up a storm and probably should’ve been taken out of the oven several days before, along with the congealed sauce it sat in. Still there was always a chunk of cheese at the end of the meal that I could look forward to. But no luck, the parmesan packets where nowhere to be seen!

Alitalia has nice enough people as crew, but they spend most of their time practicing the art of conversation (with each other!)  and seem absolutely disinterested in the people they’re supposed to be serving. In fact you feel awkward about interrupting their conversation for a glass of water – and they seem to have it figured out because they have set up a self-serve station. Not Magnifica, not at all. I hate to think about what was happening in Economy. Miami was but a few hours away and I was headed off to warmer climates, and hopefully warmer customer service.

Lunch at Da Fortunato al Pantheon in Rome

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Lunch at Da Fortunato al Pantheon in Rome

I’ve been coming to Rome for a long time, yet every time I want a great lunch I always end up at the same place: Da Fortunato al Pantheon.  It seems as though the waiters have been there as long as I’ve been going there. They remember you, they’re nice. The most important thing is that the food is simply out of this world.  I always have the same thing, depending on the season: either untarelle, a chicory dish with anchovies, or radicchioalla grilla, the spaghetti alla vongole veraci and a large bottle of sparkling water.  It’s quite simply the greatest lunch experience I’ve ever had in the world.

It’s simple; the restaurant is discreetly tucked away behind the Pantheon Square, the Piazza della Rotonda.  I am sort of a chaotic kind of guy and I know Rome really well – I like to experiment, try different restaurants, and discover new things in cities. But there’s never been a time where I’ve been in Rome and not gone to this marvelous institution; because in the end, there is simply nothing better than the food at this restaurant.

 

Wireless Connections on the Frecciargento

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Wireless Connections on the Frecciargento

It’s not that it’s frustrating; connecting to wireless in most countries can be time consuming, complicated, expensive and unpredictable.  But on the high-speed trains in Italy they have developed a system at the very highest level of incompetency. Essentially, Italian law mandates that they must charge you for Wi-Fi which means you must give them a credit card so that they can charge you an obligatory amount that will last for 24 hours. The completion of the form is complicated, and on a cell phone practically impossible to figure out.  The charge for this wireless connection is 1ct of €1 Euro, an obligatory charge, mandated by Italian law, so that at least 3000 people sitting in an office somewhere can attend to the paperwork required to administrate its operation.

Once you have completed the application, a username and a password are generated. Both the username and password are so long, with uppercase, lowercase, etc…that there’s a fairly good chance you’ll get it wrong at least twenty times. But not to worry, at some point you’ll get it – but then the ugly truth kicks in. Fast trains move fast because they use tunnels to cut through the central spine of Italy’s Apennines Mountains. Wireless connections, of course, do not work in tunnels.  When the connection drops you have to re-enter the password that you’ve probably forgotten, unless you were smart enough to write it down. Don’t feel bad, it will not remember you either – that would be too easy!  In addition there are five station stops between Rome and Venice; wireless does not work at station stops either and the same rules apply to stations as to tunnels. The bottom line is that if you were planning to do a lot of work on the train, you better have data roaming as your backup. But the trains do run on time!

 

On the Fast Train from Venice to Rome

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On the Fast Train From Venice to Rome

Imagine this, the water taxi picks you up from the palazzo, you jump into this elegant motor launch which wanders through the tiny canals until at last it breaks out into the open lagoon, and there’s the Salute church in the center of San Giorgio on the Giudecca, and across the towering column with the symbol of Venice perched atop and Doge’s Palace, the Clocktower, the Basilica, the Cathedral – and you imagine you’re in a movie.

Under the Accademia bridge, past the Peggy Guggenheim museum and then a shortcut that brings you around to the Piazzale Roma;  in the distance you can make out the freneticism of the mainland as you turn the corner of the canal and see the railway station, essentially abutting the canal and the boat docks. You roll your bags off, walk to the station and sitting there is the fast train to Rome, the Frecciargento.

In spite of all of the chaos of Italy, all of the confusion, the fast trains are a shining example of efficiency that you’ll find nowhere else in the world. The train rolls out within the second, on time, everytime – traveling at speeds close to 200 miles an hour. You arrive in Rome’s Termini station, 3 hours and 40 minutes later having traveled a distance of over 300 miles. Welcome to Rome.