Alan J. Shannon

Neat, Shaken, or Stirred: A Guide to Some of the Best Bars in the World

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 28 Dec 2024 21:45:00 +0000

Plenty of space has been devoted to bars: in literature, travel magazines, blogs, even poetry. Seems Ernest Hemingway couldn’t write a story without having at least one scene set in some atmosphere-rich bar or café, many of which seemed as interesting and appealing as the stories’ characters.

The Aviary, Chicago.

For me, fellow Illinoisian Hemingway is one of the best. Whether it was the bars of Pamplona during the running of the bulls or Paris’ Ritz on liberation day, the master storyteller captured the beguiling, sometimes other-worldly feel, allure, grit, and character of bars.

Could the vivid scenes he created or the conversations between iconic characters have occurred anywhere but a bar?

I’ve passed some pleasant hours in memorable bars where I’ve enjoyed inspired conversation, sublime surroundings, tasty cocktails and the chance to meet locals and soak up (sometimes literally) the culture and customs of the spot.

To be clear, I’m not looking to get drunk or to spend all night in a bar while traveling. For me, a visit to a bar for a drink or two before dinner or for a nightcap after is ideal. The visit provides an opportunity to get warmed up for dinner or wind down before bed, but always to experience a bit of the local culture wherever I’ve landed.

For those of us drawn to the allure and ambiance of a bar, a vacation that includes a visit to a good one is the cherry atop the sundae (er, Manhattan?) Good thing the world offers plenty—hotel bars, corner bars, tapas bars, neighborhood bars, pubs, dive bars, restaurant bars, rooftop bars.

Here are some favorites:

The Elephant Bar, Raffles, Pnom Penh, Cambodia. While not as grand as the original Singapore Raffles, this outpost effectively channels its namesake. The bar’s signature cocktail, the Femme Fatale, was concocted for Jackie Kennedy’s visit in 1967. During my visit, we opted for refreshing, classic gin and tonics, surrounded by décor that channeled Joseph Conrad.

View from the terrace at the Jigger Inn.

Jigger Inn, St. Andrew’s Old Golf Course, Scotland. Overlooking the idyllic rolling greens and rough of the iconic course of historic St. Andrew’s, the turbulent, indigo North Atlantic as a backdrop, this simple, pub-like outpost is the perfect place to soak up the views of one of the most scenic and storied golf courses on the planet.

Closeries des Lilas, Paris. One-time haunt of writers from the Lost Generation and France’s literary canon, this Montparnasse institution offers perfectly-mixed cocktails, jazz, and formally-clad, attentive waiters (well, and I may as well confess homemade potato chips that are addictive.) Small brass name plates mark the spots for regulars from another era, such as Emile Zola, Paul Cezanne, Pablo Picasso, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Hemingway.

Napoleon House, New Orleans. The air in this worn, musty and dark bar hangs heavy with history and offers just the right amount of dinge and character. The rich feel of history makes the perfect partner for expertly mixed cocktails. Or, during a sweltering Louisiana summer, an ice-cold beer.

Brown Bars, Amsterdam. Flying to Europe from the States is a mini-marathon: a boarding not dissimilar to Pamplona’s running of the bulls, a mushy, wine-soaked dinner, a fitful night’s sleep, and then a bleary-eyed, early morning taxi ride to the hotel. If my room is ready, I take a nap. If not, I grab breakfast, walk around, and then check in.

It’s not typical that I visit a bar on arrival morning, but it happened once.

During a trip to Kenya which included a two-day layover in Amsterdam, my aunts and a friend and I had a few hours to kill before we could check in. Instead of grabbing breakfast, we headed to one of the city’s iconic brown bars (it was vacation, after all.)

At these atmospheric, traditional spots you’ll find locals stopping in for an early morning short-pour on their way to work. Rich with patina, decades of smoke stains, well-worn wood, tarnished brass and marble, the bars are an Amsterdam tradition and a portal into a fast-disappearing world that is as Amsterdam as a canal or bicycle. For a list of the best brown bars, see this website.

The Hassler bar.

The Hassler, Rome. Crowning the Spanish Steps, the fabled Hassler offers one of the most intimate, atmosphere-rich bars in a city sprouting with enticing spots. Think polished wood, marble, murals of old Rome, impeccable service, and expertly-mixed drinks perfectly suited for this gilded, Lilliputian spot.

Cherry Circle, Chicago. Tucked in the inner recesses of an historic, Venetian Gothic building on Michigan Avenue, this vintage L-shaped bar overlooks a dimly-lit dining room that channels its former identity as a private business club.

Dublin's Kelly's Cellar,

Kelly’s Cellars, Belfast. This traditional, craic-filled Irish pub in operation since the 1700s features music most nights, Guinness on tap (of course!), and sometimes a simple Irish stew to soak up the beer.

The Langham, Chicago. While it might seem counter intuitive, newer hotel bars have plenty to offer. One of the best, in the Mies van der Rohe-designed Langham, is tucked into an aerie with expansive views of the Chicago River and a stunning wall of one-of-a-kind skyscrapers lining the river.

The Norfolk Hotel, Nairobi.

The Norfolk, Nairobi. When Americans and Europeans first set off on safaris to experience East Africa’s vast wilderness areas and wildlife, most headed to Kenya. While there, a good share idled away a few hours at the Norfolk Hotel’s bar. While the simple, well-preserved bar I visited in the original hotel has been replaced, there remains a bit of the old bar’s atmosphere in this expanded and renovated Nairobi mainstay. For a distinctly local libation, try the dawa (medicine, in Swahili) concocted with vodka, lime and honey.

Matchbox, Chicago. Before cocktail culture was a thing, this cozy corner bar took the time and effort to concoct classic drinks. A well-stocked bar, Old School bartenders, and standing room only offer a rare experience that’s changed little in half a century or more.

I Frattelini, Florence. While Florence’s I Frattelini may not exactly qualify as a bar, it’s also not exactly a restaurant. Open since 1875, the curbside stand tucked into a medieval building in the historic city center offers an impressive array of Italian wines by the glass. Hankering to try a Barolo or lesser-known Italian wines but hesitant to drop a hundred euro for a bottle? This is the spot for you.

Hotel Bristol, Oslo. In the heart of Oslo’s old city center, this hotel bar, festooned with fresh herbs and mixers, offers cocktails mixed with Scandinavian precision. While not technically a bar, the Oslo Opera House’s café serves drinks with stellar views of the harbor.

Seville’s Bullfighting Sports Bars: While plenty of bars the world over might resemble each other, a particular type of sports bar in Seville is unique. With décor that celebrates bullfighting, including giant mounted bull’s heads, posters, photographs of famous fighters, and related mementos, the bars are unique to Spain. For two of the best, visit Bar El Baratillo or Casa Pepe Hillo.

Scotch bars in Edinburgh: While this scenic city of patinaed stones and Gothic gables may not be the center of Scotch production, you wouldn’t know it based on the number of tasting rooms and bars that boast vast selections of the stuff. Whether a large-windowed spot with views of the city’s medieval streets or a musty old bar that mixes the smell of the dust of centuries with a flavorful dram, Scotch bars in this city of mossy stones and fairy tale turrets offer plenty of options. See this Decanter list for some of the best.

An Edinburgh Scotch bar.

The Oslo Opera House bar/terrace.

The Langham, Chicago.

Bars to Skip

Oddly enough, two bars I recommend skipping are housed in hotels by the name of Ritz—Paris’ storied hotel’s Hemingway Bar and Cairo’s Ritz bar. The former was renovated and sanitized as to remove any hint of patina or age. It now resembles a rather bland middle-of-the-road hotel bar—with cocktails that run $30. It’s the sort of place Hemingway would hate.

The Cairo Ritz has little atmosphere and staff who don’t know the difference between a vodka tonic and Manhattan. To order a cocktail here is a patience-testing game of Russian roulette. Cairo doesn’t have many bar options so if you do visit, stick to uncomplicated classics—like a beer or glass of wine.

The Enduring Delights of Traditional Hotels

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 03 Mar 2024 02:02:00 +0000

The Duke's Palace, Bruge, Belgium.

For a few millennia, inns have existed. Until the last century or two, however, places to plop your head typically hosted working travelers and tradesmen, not leisure travelers and vacationers.

In fact, the concept of a vacation is a recent development. (Decades ago, a French instructor taught me that the word “travel” is related to the French word “travaille”, which means work. In the not-too-distant past, there was not much that was enjoyable about travel. It was work.)

Good thing for the modern-day traveler that enterprising individuals figured out that all travel might not be work and that there was a market for grand hotels and quaint inns. These spots took advantage of stunning views, inspiring settings, cozy rooms, or palatial surroundings. And a newly-hatched leisure class checked in.

These days, travelers have another option, of course. With the Internet, we can easily book villas or homes via Air BnB and other apps. As a result, many of us have forsaken traditional hotels.

For me, though, there’s a lot to like about Old School hotels. And while I occasionally rent a house or condo, I’m reluctant to give up my hotel habit.

I’m no Luddite or hopelessly-out-of-touch Boomer, mind you. I’ve used Vrbo and Airbnb, and while the villas and condos I booked offered sweet spots to vacation, there was always something lacking.

The Mayan Inn, Chichicastenango, Guatemala.

I’m not talking about the fact that a Vrbo “luxury” home near Sonoma offered five bedrooms, but only two bathrooms, or that a fifth floor Paris pied-à-terre was tucked at the top of a building without a working elevator. No, these were minor inconveniences in the scheme of things. It’s something else, something far more fundamental I’m missing when I don’t stay in a hotel.

For starters, I love the breakfasts that only traditional hotels offer. Travel ought to include trying a new thing or two and it’s rare that I belly up to a buffet at an international or small U.S. hotel that doesn’t feature a food I’ve never eaten. And then there’s the mesmerizing murmur of conversation—tourists plan their day, studying subway maps and plotting walking routes. Businesspeople make notes and talk shop with co-workers.

Hotel breakfasts are an invitation to linger, to read an entire newspaper or a few chapters of that difficult-to-put-down novel. Or perhaps to ponder life’s great questions.

The Hassler Bar, Rome.

And then there’s the breakfast room itself. “Rooms” range from the palatial at Rome’s Hassler to Eden-like in the courtyard garden of Austria’s Weingut Nigl. Or there’s the verdant patio of Cambodia’s Shinta Mani.

While a good breakfast room can make a hotel, it’s hardly the only interesting room. For downtime in the afternoon, libraries, sitting rooms, and sunny nooks with comfortable armchairs seduce.

And for evenings—both early and late—the bar. There is no quintessential hotel bar: good ones are as varied as hotels themselves—dark, tiny, grand, marbled, worn, cozy, hushed or lively.

And then there’s perhaps the most obvious room of all: the lobby. Like the much-ballyhooed hotel bar, a great hotel lobby is unique. There is no exact formula that creates the perfect space, but we know a great lobby the moment we enter it.

A great lobby tempts you to linger to soak up the space, observe fellow guests coming and going, and maybe sip a drink. It might have semi-private corners for hushed conversations (or to quietly observe others) or prominent, comfortable chairs and sofas that invite lounging.

Finally, traditional hotels have the upper hand come check-out time. Unlike rented rooms or houses, there is no cleaning, no bed-stripping, no tidying things up prior to departure. Departure options can include a scheduled taxi to the airport or a breakfast to-go bag, if you’d like, and almost always a cheery farewell.

While a sizable chunk of the modern traveling world may have checked out of checking in to hotels, I won’t be giving up my traditional hotel habit anytime soon.

For some of my favorite spots, as well as some of the things that make them unique, read on.

The Hassler (Rome, Italy) Atop the Spanish Steps, the fabled Hassler offers one of the most intimate, atmosphere-rich bars in a city brimming with enticing spots. Think polished wood, marble, murals of old Rome, impeccable service, and expertly-mixed drinks perfectly suited for this gilded spot.

Shinta Mani (Siam Reap, Cambodia) Warm smiles, cool, jasmine-scented towels and icy lemongrass-flavored water greet you after a day of exploring the tumbled ruins of steamy Angkor Wat. Sublime, work-of-art flower displays created daily complement immense contemporary paintings—all illuminated by candlelight come nightfall. This Bensley Collection property competes with the nearby ancient ruins for attention and time.

Hotel Pensione Villa Accademia (Venice, Italy) The former Russian embassy, this sleepy, quaint spot near the Accademia boasts an antique- and light-filled second story sala perfect for lounging—or cocktails.

Hotel Captain Cook (Anchorage, Alaska) Don’t let the somewhat bland, contemporary façade fool you: this Anchorage hotel full of paintings documenting Captain Cook’s travels around the Pacific couldn’t be anywhere but Alaska. And it’s anything but bland inside. Many rooms offer views of distant volcanoes and an occasional ghostly-white beluga whale plying the waters just below the hotel.

Bosque del Cabo (Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica) Part of the wild and sometimes raucous rainforest, this eco-resort and its serene sea-view villas allow you to experience Costa Rican nature without leaving your private terrace. Several species of monkeys, endangered macaws, flocks of toucans, and an occasional puma prowl and cavort on the manicured grounds surrounding the villas. Communal dinners in an open-air main lodge offer abundant candlelight and conversation under the warm blanket of jungle darkness. Interested? Read more about my experiences here.

Chicago Athletic Association (Chicago, USA) A cavernous, dimly-lit lobby bar channels an old Venetian palace and the hotel’s earlier incarnation as a private men’s club. In winter, grab a table in front of one of the immense fireplaces or peer over Michigan Avenue and Millennium Park while nibbling breakfast or sipping a cocktail.

Hotel Bristol (Oslo, Norway) One of Scandinavia’s great gifts to the world is the smorgasbord. And the Hotel Bristol, set in the heart of the city, may render all previous smorgasbord experiences inferior. Come evening, carefully-concocted cocktails are shaken and stirred by fastidious bartenders in the atmosphere-rich bar.

Old Cataract (Aswan, Egypt) Virginia Woolf knew how to write a mystery, but she also clearly knew how to choose a hotel. Perched above the serene Nile with views of Elephantine Island and the Western Desert beyond (just as depicted in the 70’s Death on the Nile), the Old Cataract is to Egypt what Claridge’s is to London. Spacious rooms in a new tower offer expansive terraces with unforgettable views of the Nile speckled with feluccas and brightly painted boats. Happy Hour here comes with unrivaled, cinematic views and the hypnotic, other-worldly call to prayer while the sun sinks behind dun-colored western hills and the mausoleum of the Aga Khan.

Hotel Imperial (Vienna, Austria) That this former Hapsburg pad feels palatial isn’t by chance—it is, in fact, a former palace. The historic property is full of fine paintings (some of which decorate rooms) and a staircase that cannot be passed by without taking a regal selfie. Breakfast is served by formally attired, fastidious and friendly waiters in the sunny café with Viennese coffee specialties and a selection of newspapers.

Norfolk (Nairobi, Kenya) When I stayed at this storied haunt in the late 1990s and early aughts, it wasn’t yet owned by a luxury chain. Today, the hotel retains an aura of its early days when corridors were roamed by Lord Delamere, Theodore Roosevelt and Karen Blixen. During my stays, we kicked off and ended trips to Kenya with a traditional dowa (medicine, in Swahili) served by stylishly-attired waiters at the old school bar.

Weingut Nigl (Wachau Valley, Austria) Nestled in steep vineyard-cloaked hills near the Danube, Weingut’s rooms include private terraces overlooking a sleepy, bucolic river valley. Magnificent breakfasts in the quaint cobblestoned courtyard feature local cheeses, wines, and locally-made apricot jam.

The Mayan Inn (Chichicastenango, Guatemala) Steeped in history and loaded with traditional Guatemalan art and textiles, this one-of-a-kind inn offers antique-filled rooms with fireplaces, an essential amenity to ward off the chill of highland nights. Enjoy dinner in a dining room lined with historic, captivating paintings of indigenous Guatemalans and return to your room to find a blazing fire started by the Inn’s resident fire-tender—the only hotel I’ve visited with such a position.

And a few more:

The main building of Villa San Michele, nestled in the Eden-like hills above Florence,
was designed by little-known Renaissance architect/artist Michelangelo.

Dinner with a view.
Villa San Michele's multiple terraces offer views of the Tuscan countryside and Florence.

Table service at Al Moudira on Luxor's West Bank.

Multi-course breakfasts at Pura Vida in San Jose, Costa Rica
begin with flavor-packed local fruit and tropical fruit smoothies. And Costa Rican coffee.

A Michigan institution and Arts & Crafts gem, the Lakeside Inn offers vintage
charms and easy access to the broad, powdery beaches of Lake Michigan.

Rooms at Costa Rica's Lost Iguana offer
mesmerizing views of verdant rainforest and jungle-clad Volcan Arenal.

The courtyard and lounge, perfect spots for breakfast, cocktails and lantern-lit
dinners at Al Moudira on Luxor's West Bank.

Amsterdam's quirky Pulitzer offers a serene garden courtyard and
its own vintage canal boat.

The Robey Hotel's rooms and terrace offer
expansive views of historic Wicker Park and Chicago's iconic skyline.

The Langham, a modernist delight, occupies a Mies van der Rohe-designed building with killer views of iconic architecture lining the Chicago River.

A Sunshine State Surprise: Farm to Fork in Florida

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 04 Dec 2022 13:59:00 +0000

At certain points in life, we think we know the world. For many of us, this smugness springs from an age-related belief that we know places completely, that we’ve got them figured out.

But sometimes, we discover we were mistaken.

And so it was with me and Florida. As with more than a few Americans, I suffer from a complicated relationship with the so-called Sunshine State. I’ve been traveling there since the late 1970s when Disney World was a novelty and Epcot Center was a swamp inhabited by alligators.

During near annual trips as a kid, I visited snowbird grandparents near Tampa and spent most of my days at a beach. Some years later, I explored Miami before a cruise and on assignment to cover a music festival. And then there were multiple long weekends spent with a pack of sun-seeking cousins and siblings in Winter Park after an aunt and uncle moved there.

In the course of dozens of trips, I found Florida to be a greener, swampier, and slightly more subdued version of hedonistic, flashy, and luxe-loving Las Vegas. Sure, the third state to join the Confederacy lacked the massive casinos and glitzy shows of its dusty Nevada sibling, but it had something of the same in-it-for-the-money, all about entertainment, schlocky feel.

Both spots’ raison d'être is to appeal to masses of tourists by transporting them to a fantastical vacation-land featuring dozens of diversions such as alligator farms, wading flamingos, mock pirate ship battles, or Cirque du Soleil shows and platters of cheap buffet food (illuminated by amber lighting that wouldn’t look out of place on Mars.)

If food in Vegas a few decades ago consisted primarily of giant all you can eat buffets, food in Florida was hardly gourmet either. Aided by the occasional seafood shack, Cuban sandwich shop, or ubiquitous grouper sandwich, the Sunshine State’s culinary cupboard was only slightly better.

And so after decades of trips to the Sunshine State and its ho-hum restaurants, I was pleasantly surprised during a recent visit to discover a farm to fork restaurant—on an actual, functioning farm!

Nestled into verdant farm country inland from the Gulf Coast, Rosy Tomorrow’s is an easy drive from Fort Meyers. Operated by Rose O’Dell King, a former sheep farmer and chef, the farm and restaurant represent the best of the last few decades’ movement to source locally and responsibly.

Palmetto and pine-studded pastures, stables, gardens, and a patio surround the airy, warmly-lit restaurant. Instead of solid walls, a lofty, barn-like structure features floor to ceiling screened windows (this is Florida, after all) with views of vibrant green pastures, wandering ducks and chickens, and white fenced paddocks with cattle, goats, and pigs.

And speaking of livestock, some of them travel a distance from pasture to table that can be measured in yards, not miles. It’s one of the shortest farm to plate journeys I’ve experienced.

A fetching setting, ethical treatment of animals, sourcing of food from other local farmers and purveyors, and storybook surroundings don’t matter much if the food isn’t as sublime as the setting. At Rosy’s, the seasonal offerings are as good or better than the concept and surroundings.

Here you’ll find unique farm to table treats, such as mangrove salt harvested twice annually, and fresh, sustainably sourced seafood, including plump gulf shrimp and mangrove snapper. Summertime brings fruits, turmeric, ginger, and water-grown wasabi. Winter’s cool produces sweet peppers, beets, kale and sugarcane.

Still, this is Florida. During our visit, as we sipped cocktails and watched the sun drop behind palms and moss-draped trees, the sound of gunfire erupted in the distance.

Shooting range? Hunters? Someone shooting off their guns for fun? Who knew?

Thankfully, the shooting subsided and we were soon back to enjoying our drinks with just the evening song of birds and the occasional lowing of cattle.

Please note: Rosy’s is temporarily closed; however, you can still pick up food boxes and stroll the grounds. Check the website to order food or to see when the restaurant is reopening.

Armchair Travel: Serene Scandinavia

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 13 Mar 2022 22:10:00 +0000

While the world continues to open up to travelers, some corners of the planet remain difficult or impossible to visit. But one corner of the planet has always been more challenging for Americans to visit: Scandinavia.

A Norwegian coastal village.

With fewer access points than Continental Europe, smaller cities, a lower population overall, and higher prices, the region, as a whole, can be daunting to visit. While over the past few decades I’ve had several trips to this quiet corner of the planet, one of my favorites involved a cruise.

Typically, a cruise isn’t high on my list of ways to travel. I prefer to settle into a place and experience its streets and moods in the morning for breakfast, at cocktail hour as daylight fades, and after dinner when lights twinkle. I like to stay in a city for more than a day and ideally for a week. And by design, cruises force a traveler to superficially sample, but never linger in a place.

So what’s the pay-off of a Scandinavian cruise?

For me, the advantage was being able to cover a lot of ground in a relatively short amount of time, and to visit some spots that are more difficult to reach (I'm talking about you, Estonia!)

And for those who don't have unlimited money, a cruise is vastly more economical, particularly in Scandinavia, which tends to be a pricey part of the planet.

St. Petersburg's Church of the Spilled Blood (never mind the name, it's worth a visit--if and when it's advisable to visit Russia again.)

To cover these same cities and countries via separate trips would be costly—in dollars and time. And many cruises actually sail the Baltic Sea and may include even more difficult to reach ports such as St. Petersburg (Russia), Gdansk (Poland), and Riga (Latvia).

The cruise also enabled me to visit an infrequently visited historic and architectural gem: Talinn, Estonia. With its intact, towering medieval wall and cobblestone streets, Talinn offers off-the-chart charm. I’ve visited countless Continental towns, villages, and cities, but Talinn was truly unique.

Many cruises start or end in Stockholm. I’m glad mine started here because our departure made for one of my most memorable travel experience ever. As we set sail from the Nordic city’s deep-water port in the middle of summer, I sipped a glass of wine as we glided through an archipelago inhabited by summering Swedes and their brightly colored wooden vacation homes. From the ship’s deck, we could see scores of summer-loving Scandinavians on holiday—perched on porches, lounging on lawns, docks, and rocks, and splashing in the clear sea. The backdrop? Pine and birch trees, patches of brilliant wildflowers, cottony clouds, small sailboats skimming across the glittering water, and waves reflecting the golden, early evening sun.

I wanted to pull into one of those islands and spend a few hours enjoying the view from one of the lawns or gently-aged wooden docks. And that’s the disadvantage of a cruise—there’s no opportunity to linger longer in special spots such as these. Still, I experienced the idyllic islands up close and watched as Swedes celebrated their short, sublime summer. For a time, I was provided a glimpse of another world and another way of living. And isn’t that what travel is all about?

Stockholm's idyllic harbor.

TIP: If you book on Silversea or similar, most cabins have balconies. As we pulled into Helsinki and Copenhagen, I was treated to views of the cities, nearby islands, and harbors from the privacy of my balcony—while enjoying breakfast.

LINKS:

Regent Seven Seas Cruises

Seabourn Cruises

Viking Cruises

Bergen, Norway.

A Swedish summer home.

Stockholm, Sweden.

Pandemic Travel: Michigan, Paradise in My Backyard

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 23 Jan 2022 22:36:00 +0000

In this pandemic-era of constricted travel and hemmed-in horizons, those of us hard-wired to travel couldn’t be faulted for falling into a fit of gloom. Many of the places we’ve longed to finally visit or pined to return to are unreachable or associated with risk.

Michigan's The Fields.

During the past year or so, I reminded myself that I’ve got options. We all live someplace, after all, and though we may have the urge to board a flight that requires a passport or wander further afield, destinations in our own backyards merit discovering—or, in my case, rediscovering.

While national travel and lifestyle magazines tell us there are only certain places in the world worth visiting, this is certainly untrue. In my case, influencers and tastemakers have long suggested that the Midwest has little more than the mundane to offer, but they’re misinformed.

Case in point: during my childhood, one of my family’s annual summer vacations included a trip to the fern-carpeted, pine-scented woods of northern Michigan. In mid-summer, my parents would pack our paneled station wagon with me and my four siblings, swimsuits, inflatables, and shorts, and drive to my paternal grandparents’ house, the final few hours of our drive on near-empty, narrow state roads lined with thick forests after the interstate ended in Grand Rapids.

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

My grandparents’ house, surrounded by stands of birch interspersed with deep green pines, sat back from the edge of a steep dune overlooking a small cove. The scallop shaped cove, framed by immense trees and littered with reeds, fallen logs, and lily pads, offered a glimpse of a large, cobalt blue lake just beyond a narrow channel.

A thick wood of birches and pines behind the house rose from an ancient seabed now carpeted in sand swales, ferns, and blueberry bushes. We typically forged our own paths through the seemingly endless woods, ever watchful for bears—which we both did and did not want to encounter—along with sweet, wild blueberries (which we weren’t conflicted about encountering.)

Summer days at that latitude only dissipate toward midnight, the sun’s final rays burnishing the evening clouds before giving way to a vast, ink-black sky blanketed with glittering stars. My siblings and I spent the seemingly endless hours of these dreamy days in a boxy, simple boat with heavy creaking oars hunting for turtles, frogs, and bullfrogs which we caught and released in the cove while the warm August sun browned our backs.

When we weren’t rowing around the cove, we swam in crystalline lakes, picnicked, hiked, and always, always visited nearby Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. At the park, my siblings and I would somersault and tumble down ancient dunes the height of skyscrapers and then spend hours exhausting ourselves climbing back up. My parents and grandparents watched from shady, picnic table aeries, likely amused and undoubtedly happy that we had worn ourselves out and would fall asleep in the return car trip.

There were visits to pine-paneled, clamorous supper clubs where everyone dressed for dinner. Late afternoon stops at ice cream shops featured flavors like Blue Moon and premises-churned ice cream long before anyone thought that was something worth promoting. Occasionally, my grandfather piled us into his tank-like car and brought us to a North Woods bar where he sipped Hamm’s or Pabst beer while my siblings and I, perched awkwardly on barstools, slurped Shirley Temples.

Leland's historic Fishtown.

When the pandemic reduced O’Hare flights to a trickle, closing off much of the world I’d previously so easily wandered, I suddenly found Michigan on my mind. In truth, I’d longed to return for decades—my childhood memories never having faded—but I’d postponed visiting. After all, Michigan was easy to get to. And I’d spent a few decades seeking out spots that were remote and difficult to visit.

At that moment, I realized the pandemic provided a golden opportunity to see Michigan spots I’d visited as a child, and to discover new places that had appeared in the meantime.

In the decades since my childhood, plenty of other Americans have somehow discovered some of these places. Summer cottages in the pristine, tranquil Leelanau Peninsula are as likely to be owned by heat birds from Dallas or Atlanta as nearby Detroit or Chicago.

Still, it’s an uncrowded, tranquil corner of the world largely overlooked by glossy magazines and Instagram influencers. And, undoubtedly, like enticing corners of the world near you, it’s easily reached and certainly worth a visit.

Instead of viewing the pandemic as a scourge for traveling, maybe it presents the perfect opportunity to explore—or revisit—those special spots that exist in every corner of the world, including in our own backyards.

Western Michigan Picks:

Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore For hiking, scenic drives, pristine beaches, and dune hikes for wearing out the kids.

Leland Lodge For strolls around the quaint village of Leland and golfing. TIP: Don't bother with the dingy, overpriced private cottages. https://www.lelandlodge.com

Lakeside Inn This rustic, former artist colony inn, less than two hours from Chicago, sits on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. Think beach walks, easy drives to nearby quaint towns and restaurants, and campfires.

Fields of Michigan Glamping with all the fixings—campfires, luxe bed linens, hot water, bike rides through farm country. TIP: Arrange for the private dinner cabin nestled on the edge of a deep green, fairy tale wood.

Virtue Cider Limited release ciders, cidery tours, and light fare surrounded by orchards and bucolic farms.

Saugutuck Somehow charming despite swarms of tourists. TIP: For Michigan-made bespoke jams and preserves, visit American Spoon.

Isabel’s Sublime baked goods and sausages, sandwiches and prepared foods to take away or eat on the patio.

The Lakeside Inn.

Virtue cider.

The Fields of Michigan.

Southwest Michigan is known for its blueberry farms.

Pandemic Travel: Beyond Amsterdam in an Armchair

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 23 May 2020 23:52:00 +0000

In the midst of a pandemic, planning a trip might seem foolhardy, if not downright dangerous. But I’m re-learning how to appreciate travel the way I discovered it—in an armchair.

Whether I’m reading—or writing—about places, I’m transported. And these days, we could all use a little healthy escape. And when we’re once again able to board a plane and start exploring again, we’ll savor the experience that much more. In the meantime, I plan to armchair travel regularly.

Holland, my first shelter-in-place stop, is so chill an ottoman is required. Just as there’s more to America than New York City, there is more to Holland than Amsterdam. When I first visited this northern European country at the end of college, though, I was most interested in its largest and most famous city. With its brown bars, Heineken Brewery, Old Masters’ art, and quaint canals—not to mention those unconventional cafés that served space cakes—Amsterdam monopolized my imagination.

The Keukenhof Gardens live up to the hype.

Sure I knew about the famed tulip fields and windmills in the adjacent countryside and I’d heard about The Hague and Delft, but that’s about as deep as my knowledge went. During a recent trip, however, I made up for my youthful ignorance by exploring a little of the wealth of the Netherlands outsideof Amsterdam.

For starters, I did more than check a box by visiting the famed Keukenhof Gardens with its acres of brilliant tulips. Despite crowds that sometimes seemed nearly as abundant as the blossoms on display, I found the gardens to be almost overwhelming—in a good way. Over the years I’ve seen plenty of Instagram-quality photos of fields of tulips, but none of these prepared me for the sheer scale and number of flower beds lining the park’s meandering walkways and tucked into its woods. Of course, it helped that I’d visited on a perfect late spring day that offered brilliant sunshine, mild temps, and a gentle breeze, but I’d return again in any sort of weather.

A house in Breukelen.

After strolling the colorful garden paths of Keukenhof, we drove along the banks of the nearby Vecht River (one of the joys of exploring this petite country is that nearly every destination is nearby.) Running from the Rhine and Utrecht to the former Zuyderzee, the Vecht served as a main traffic route for thousands of years. Possibly the inspiration for illustrations in fairy tale books, the river delights as it skirts medieval villages, an occasional windmill, tidy farms, and vibrant green pastures occupied by goats (frolicking, of course), lounging cows, and bleating sheep.

One village worth a visit, Leiden, dates to Roman times, though it looks hardly older than the mere Middle Ages. Narrow cobblestone passages and streets built for pedestrians can scarcely accommodate cars, making them extra fun to stroll. Equally quaint and historic is Breukelen—predecessor to the New York version minus the hipsters and a few million people. (Think medieval—instead of edgy—charm.)

The banks along the river were first discovered during the 17^thand 18^thcenturies when the wealthy of Amsterdam and Utrecht built stately manor homes with en

A 17th century weekend home along the Vecht River.

vogue tea houses. While the tea houses sat mostly empty when I visited, nearby bars, restaurants, boats, and bike lanes were full of life. On weekends, the Dutch book horse-drawn cart rides along the narrow road or boat excursions on the river and the mood is celebratory and pastoral.

After exploring the area, have lunch or dinner at Michelin-recommended Slangevgt on the banks of the Vecht. Oysters, seafood, local meats, and bread that must have been baked in heaven make for a menu of options that provide for agonizing decisions. In my experience, though, there are no wrong decisions. Sit outside on the riverbank or in the conservatory-like section of the restaurant which provides the best of both worlds.

Closer to Amsterdam you’ll find Het Bosch which you can reach by boat, car, or bike (of course). Serving French/Dutch cuisine with stellar views of the water and sunsets that seem to last for hours, Het Bosch is a little outside of town but worth the effort to find. The best season to visit is summertime when sunsets last for hours and are reflected in the nearby water. Caution: GPS sometimes has difficulty finding this spot (ours took us to a cottage in the woods).

Finally, no visit to the Dutch countryside is complete without a visit to the fairytale Castle De Haar. With its intact moat, acres of gardens, towers, and bridge guardhouse, the historic fortress screams Middle Ages.

The Castle de Haar features two rarities: an intact moat & bridge guardhouse.

Stay:

Pulitzer (see my recent post on this unique hotel).

Book:

Visiting the Dutch countryside is possible via rental car or by booking a half-day or full-day excursion through a local tour agency. For a bespoke tour and insider’s look into the area, book a tour through Delta.

Eat:

Slangevegt on the river.
Het Bosch on a waterway on the outskirts of Amsterdam.

Alaska’s Hotel Captain Cook: Delight-Inducing Homage to the Age of Exploration

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 05 Jan 2020 01:17:00 +0000

In the past few decades I've visited Alaska four times—but three of those visits were taken around 1990 (yes, essentially 30 years ago, if you’re doing the math). During those trips, I explored the Kenai Peninsula, Denali, Anchorage, and pretty much any spot accessible via paved road. I even drove the spectacularly scenic and solitary highway that parallels the Alaska Pipeline and links inland Fairbanks to coastal Valdez on Prince William Sound.

After three trips, I decided I’d seen everything there was to see, including every corner of Anchorage, the state’s largest city.

When I visited Anchorage recently, however, I realized I’d overlooked a spectacular spot smack dab in the city center. Despite at least six previous stays, I somehow missed the sublime and historic Hotel Captain Cook. Set on the edge of downtown and overlooking the Cook Inlet, Anchorage’s best hotel is named for the British seafarer who explored the area and the Pacific Ocean in the 1700’s.

To me, history and pedigree are all good, but what sets the hotel apart is that quality that’s difficult for hotels anywhere to attain: absolute uniqueness. While Captain Cook’s exterior is rather bland and unremarkable (which might be the reason I overlooked it during previous visits), its interior, inspired by the classic wooden ships Cook sailed, couldn’t be more spectacular.

From a beamed breakfast room that resembles a below deck dining mess to corridors lined with original oil paintings depicting Cook’s travels and the peoples he encountered, the hotel is a romantic tribute to the Age of Exploration and a celebration of the rich cultures and dramatic landscapes of the Pacific Rim.

While the lobby and public areas were the chief sources of my delight, the rooms weren’t so bad either. With stylish and Pacific-themed décor, rooms approximate posh but lack the original art of the hotel’s public areas. That’s okay, though, as many offer dramatic views of the adjacent Cook Inlet (look for the ghost-like shapes of beluga whales in the water just below and snow capped volcanoes in the distance).

The restaurant that crowns the hotel offers the best views and finest fare in the state. On the main floor, expertly poured cocktails in the English pub-like restaurant are matched with decent food, though bar TVs distract from what is otherwise an aura of a previous era.

The hotel’s service is sometimes spotty. But that's easily overlooked, given the hotel's art and unique atmosphere. If you like hotels with a scintillating sense of place, don't follow my lead--visit on your first trip to Alaska.

Under the Umbrian Sun: A Villa in a Less Crowded Corner of Italy

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Mon, 11 Nov 2019 23:45:00 +0000

In the 1980s, I wandered around Europe with a small group of high school and college friends. Aligned somewhat with our graduations from college, the trip served as our initiation into independent travel.

Italian villa rentals often feature a garden, balcony,
courtyard, or loggia.

To commemorate an anniversary of our trip, most of our original group (plus a few spouses and children) planned a reunion trip.

Since my first trip, I’ve been visiting Italy regularly, but have grown increasingly dismayed to find that many corners of the country have grown ridiculously crowded. While the major cities of Rome, Florence, Venice, Milan, Siena, and Sorrento are tough to beat for history, charm, and culture, they’re also teeming with tourists, particularly during summer months. And with all the crowds, I find it increasingly difficult to experience that sweet sense of la dolce vita—one of my primary joys of visiting this Mediterranean country.

I realize the topic of crowds of tourists isn’t exactly late breaking news. Recently, there have been more than a few articles discussing crowds pushing top sites to the breaking point. Just how many visitors can fit into Piazza San Marco or Florence’s duomo, they ask?

The ancient town of Orvieto sits atop a hill in
the southwest corner of Umbria.

The good news is that you don’t need to find out. By opting to explore some of Italy’s less crowded, but equally historic and charming corners as we did, you’ll spend less time in queues and have more time to experience la dolce vita—as well as the charm, history, food, and drink that are integral parts of any trip to Italy.

For our most recent trip, we rented a house in the rolling hills of Umbria and cars to explore the surrounding countryside, including spots in nearby Tuscany. While Tuscany’s golden and rolling, cypress-studded hills are what you probably imagine when someone says “Italian countryside,” there’s more to that than Tuscany. Umbria, an often overlooked—and uncrowded—region, is right next door.

During our week’s stay, day trips were no more than an hour’s drive and included Cortona, Assisi, Orvieto, Cittá della Pieve, Cetona, and several smaller villages so tiny they consisted merely of a cluster of stone homes, a church, and sometimes the ruins of a small castle or tower. With the exception of Assisi, none of these towns was crowded. And even popular Assisi offered many quiet streets and—critical to the coffee and wine drinkers among us—plenty of empty seats at café tables.

The columns of a Roman temple in the
heart of Assisi.

In order to enjoy the charming villa, shady pergola and refreshing pool—all of which offered soul-expanding views of the countryside—we typically spent mellow mornings lounging in the loggia and then headed for a nearby town between 11:00 and 2:00. Several times, we spent late afternoons in towns such as Orvieto and Assisi and then had early dinners in notable restaurants before wending our way back to the villa. On several evenings, we finished the day with a nightcap on the lawn under a sparkling blanket of stars.

Though we weren’t dealing with the crowds of Rome or Venice, our trip wasn’t stress-free. A primary source of this stress was confronting the daily question of what to do: stay in the villa and soak up its charm and that of the rolling, sun-kissed countryside or explore the alluring villages and small cities of Umbria? Unlike so many other decisions in life, there was no wrong answer.

Oh, and then there was the stress of losing internet access. When none of the adults could connect, we chalked it up to unreliable service. As it turned out, the cause of the disruption was a few teenaged girls who absconded with the wireless modum so they could more easily (and privately) text boyfriends back home.

Our villa rental offered expansive views of verdant Umbrian countryside.

For the few evenings we prepared simple dinners at the villa, we started with sundowners on a terrace with the surrounding countryside bathed in yellow, gold, and orange. And then we sat down under a jasmine covered pergola for simple pasta dinners we prepared from ingredients we found at local stores and markets. There was wine and candlelight and plenty of storytelling and laughs.

Between these memorable dinners and the ones we enjoyed at restaurants in nearby towns and villages, I experienced plenty of la dolce vita—set to birdsong and laughter and without crowds of tourists.

To plan your own villa trip in Italy, see below.

Tips for a Villa Vacation in Italy:

Fly into a major city and pick up a rental car at the airport or take the train to the city closest to your villa and rent a car there. We also often stay a few days in a city on either or both ends of a week’s villa stay.
There are several sites that offer villa rentals across Italy. Make sure to research the location—some villas can be remote. We prefer rentals that are a 10 to 15 minute drive to a nearby town or small city. For rentals located in sleepy villages that offer restaurants and stores within walking distance, you can up the relaxation factor by walking more and reserving the car for longer excursions.
Umbria has more than its fair share of excellent restaurants. Plan your visits so that you can stroll a village during the day and have dinner at a restaurant before heading back to your villa.
First visit to Umbria? Take in Assisi, Orvieto, Citta della Pieve, Cortona (just across the across the border in Tuscany), and Cetona.
Renting a villa in the country can have some disadvantages. Wifi wasn’t the most reliable and the signal only usable in half of the first floor and adjoining terrace. And some villas can be very remote which can mean 15 to 30 minute drives to the closest grocery store or village.
Many villa rental agencies offer a grocery box to get you started. Order it. You’ll get eggs, coffee, bread, and other necessities to make the first morning enjoyable. In many cases, rentals begin on Saturday afternoons and given that many stores are closed on Sundays, it’s a good way to make your first villa day a relaxing one.
For Italian villa rentals, try Ville in Italia or Villa & Charme.
Visiting Rome on your way into or out of Italy? Visit the old school and positively delightful Armando Pantheon in the supposedly haunted shadows of its namesake ancient pagan temple. (Reservations are essential.)

Restaurants in Umbria:

Orvieto: Trattoria del Moro (Ask for a table in the room in the middle or back—avoid the front room)
Città della Pieve: Trattoria Bruno Coppetta
Assisi: Ristorante Valerie
Cetona: Osteria del Mero

Amsterdam’s Pulitzer: A Prize for Redefining Posh

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Tue, 09 Jul 2019 03:06:00 +0000

The best way to experience the canals? The Pulitzer's vintage boat.

I’ve visited Amsterdam several times in the past 30 years. And with each visit the city grows more interesting (and no, I’m not talking about the Red Light District). Years ago hotel options were basic and tiny, grand and fussy or, when I visited in 1986, well, Spartan and sterile (as in a youth hostel.)

These days, hotel options in the historic city offer much more variety. While the storied, grand hotels for which Europe is known remain, they have creative competition from contemporary spots that redefine luxury. Of course, what does “luxury” even mean anymore? Does it mean silk draperies, plush carpets, servile service, and Louis XIV armchairs? Or maybe today the concept has progressed beyond pretension and fluff and landed in a world equal parts Alice in Wonderland, old school luxury hotel, and creatively-styled, non-chain hotel.

During a recent visit, I stayed at just such a place—The Pulitzer, a one-of-a-kind, quirky hotel smack dab in the center of the old city center. Housed in a cluster of Golden Age canal houses cobbled together and huddled around an expansive courtyard, the hotel manages to be au courant, historic, and refined.

The charm and character here don’t come cheap, however. To save some euros, book a “cosy room” with a view of the courtyard garden. No canal view, you whine? Well, I stayed in such a room with giant windows providing expansive views of the charming gardens, church tower, and jumble of classic Dutch rooftops. But the best part of the room was the birdsong and church chimes that serenaded me in the mornings.

Besides, Amsterdam’s canals are often loud and sometimes traversed by party boats. (Seriously, wouldn’t you prefer a view of a charming courtyard garden the sound of birdsong—while saving those euro for some gouda, or other Dutch treats?)

And speaking of treats, no matter whether you lay your weary head to rest in a canal or garden room, you’ll be subject to a never-ending supply of delectable stroopwafels—a cookie of two thin layers of baked dough with a cavity-inducing, caramel syrup filling.

And what should you drink with this surfeit of stroopwafel? Well, rooms come with a supply of small batch coffees roasted for the hotel and an assortment of premium teas. Though rooms are relatively small, they’re full of well-designed touches like portholes, settees, and art (both contemporary and antique). And because this is Amsterdam, an old school bike tire repair kit is included—perhaps the most unique amenity anywhere.

The Pulitzer's private garden.

Breakfasts in the hotel’s Junz restaurant are ethereal as morning light cascades through the large mullioned windows of the restaurant’s rooms. In the evenings, the Pulitzer Bar is a destination for locals and tourists alike. While the bar’s cocktail program isn’t exceptional, it’s adequate. The real attraction is the fetching design of the rooms and the crowds of happy-go-lucky Dutch who don’t seem to notice—or care.

Intimate Bussia sits steps from the Pulitzer.

Looking for restaurants to complement your sublime stay here? Just around the corner sits Bussia, a small Italian restaurant with a limited, seasonal menu. An upper gallery and open kitchen compete for attention with the street scene outside the large windows. Reservations essential.

Further afield is the Michelin-starred Het Bosch which boasts views of a small harbor and marshes (and summer sunsets that last hours). Reservations essential.

A Last Hurrah: Experiencing Amsterdam's storied canals is a must. Tour boats ply the centuries-old waterways, offering cheap food and mugs of Heineken. Wish to avoid jostling cheek to jowl with boatloads of other tourists? Well (and doesn’t it figure?), Pulitzer guests have a fetching option: the hotel’s vintage wooden boat. Take one of the regularly-scheduled complimentary cruises with cash bar or even better, book a splurge-worthy, private putter.

When Visiting Egypt, Don't Sail Solo

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Mon, 29 Apr 2019 03:51:00 +0000

Hassle-free private camel rides at Giza.

I’ve long been an independent traveler, preferring to make my own way instead of having someone show me the way. Typically, I want to discover places on my own, thank you very much.

But there are a few places where booking a tour isn’t only recommended, but the smartest way to go. Egypt is one such country.

And I learned this the hard way. I first visited the country in the mid-90’s and traveled with a German friend. Childhood friends who lived in Alexandria at the time had highly recommended Luxor. “Don’t miss it,” they advised.

But my friend and I skipped it because it seemed too complicated to visit (unless a glimpse of the Valley of the Kings from an airplane window counts.) Instead, we explored Cairo on our own before joining my friends who showed us around Alexandria and the sleepy, undeveloped Mediterranean coast. The trip was enjoyable, but I didn’t realize how much I had missed until I returned nearly two decades later.

In short, I’d missed the stunning Karnak and Luxor Temples, the Valley of the Kings and its tombs, a half dozen smaller ruins that would be major attractions anywhere else, and the scenic Nile bordered by a verdant patchwork of farm plots—plots that have been farmed in relatively the same fashion for a few millennia. And that’s just a sampling of the sites I’d missed.

Iconic Abu Simbel.

In this country, which considers itself the cradle of civilization, there are so many sites to see and so many layers of complicated history, that it would be difficult if not impossible to see much or even understand what’s before you without a guide.

In addition, without a guide you’ll spend precious time arranging transportation from one spot to the next, standing in lines to buy tickets, and then arranging for a guide at the gate—or worse—visiting sites without a guide.

For my recent trip with a group of friends, we created a custom tour with Your Egypt. We had an idea of many of the sites we wanted to see and created a draft itinerary we provided to the tour agency. Your Egypt added guides, transportation, tickets, and recommended some additional sites. After a few minor modifications, we agreed on an itinerary and paid a deposit.

Aswan's Old Cataract Hotel from the Nile.

With a tour, we were able to see more sites and visit some spots that many tourists miss (such as the Temple of Esna, which we wandered with only the echo of the call to prayer, pigeons, and the site caretaker to keep us company.) Best of all, we were able to understand what we were seeing thanks to our knowledgeable guide.

To visit must-see Abu Simbel and its four iconic seated statues of Ramses II, we departed Aswan before dawn and were picked up and dropped off at The Old Cataract Hotel (the same spot Agatha Christie penned Death on the Nile.) We leisurely explored the massive temple complex, stopped at an essential oil manufacturer in Aswan on our return, and still had enough time to swim, sip cocktails, and soak up the stunning Nile and desert views at our hotel. Without a private guide and expert planning, we would never have been able to experience so much in only a day.

Rooms with a view (of the Nile) at the Old Cataract Hotel.

Another highlight?—a private felucca cruise shortly before sunset around Aswan’s Elephantine Island. Our perfectly-timed sail started an hour or so before traditional sunset rides depart, so we had the Nile nearly to ourselves. Khaki-colored desert mountains rose in the distance while water birds waded in the emerald-green reeds along the shore. And the Nile was virtually silent except for the creak of the mast, birdsong, and a serenading child sweetly singing Frere Jacques from a small canoe next to our boat.

By the time we bumped up to the pier at the Old Cataract, dozens of tourist-filled feluccas rides were just departing. And we were ready to enjoy our view of a glassy Nile filled with the white sails of feluccas while sipping cocktails on our private hotel terrace.

Tour agencies can arrange for a pre-dawn ballon ride
over the Valley of the Kings and Nile farms.

My unique and sublime sailing experience on the Nile wouldn’t have occurred had I planned my trip without the assistance of a local tour guide. And for that reason and dozens of other experiences, I recommend booking a private tour of Egypt.

Don’t Miss:

A camel ride with the Giza pyramids in the distance. Cliché? Yes. Boring? No.

A private boat ride across the clear waters of Lake Aswan to Philae and its temple ruins.

A leisure drive from Aswan to Luxor, stopping off at lesser-visted sites along the Nile, including Esna.

A balloon ride at dawn over the Valley of the Kings and the verdant and ancient farmland along the Nile.

Stay:
Old Cataract Hotel, Aswan

Barcelona's Great Beyond: Coastal Villages, Stellar Restaurants

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 09 Mar 2019 18:16:00 +0000

When I first visited Barcelona in 1986, the somewhat sleepy Mediterranean city had only recently emerged from the fog of decades of relative isolation under the dictatorship of Franco. At that time, the city was gearing up for the 1992 Olympics which ultimately transformed the somewhat gritty port into a cosmopolitan city overflowing with tourists. And in the intervening decades, that flow has become a tsunami (so much so that the city is considering limiting access to tourists).

Besalú and its 11th century bridge.

Should that happen, don’t fret. As I was reminded during a recent trip, the region of Catalonia is much more than Barcelona. In fact, the surrounding area is full of quaint medieval villages, stunning small cities, and seaside towns.

And so, when I joined some family and friends to rent a medieval castle in the sleepiest of small villages, Sant Mori, we had plenty to keep us occupied—without ever venturing into Barcelona.

The best part? Many of these sleepy pastoral towns offer outstanding restaurants—without the lines, parking hassles, or prices you’ll bump into in Barcelona.

La Barretina de Orfes.

For our first night’s dinner, we drove a short distance along narrow lanes bordered by pastures, thick woods, and rolling hills to Lilliputian Orfes. Approached via a poplar-lined country road, the village consists of a storybook collection of old stone and brick buildings. Somewhat hidden on the second floor of one of the old buildings you’ll find La Barretina de Orfes.

The restaurant’s owner led us to a long wooden table in an empty dining room which overlooked the charming but empty town square (it was 7:30 and no one but Americans eat at that hour in Spain). The room—and the view of the village outside—could have been from the 19th century. But it wasn’t the room or the view that brought us here—it was the food. In our group of nearly a dozen, we sampled some area classics—stuffed peppers, fish, duck, and onion tart. By the time we left, the place was stuffed—and so were we.

A Compartir creation.

This corner of Spain with its idyllic coastline that heads north and east toward the nearby French border has attracted foodies for decades. While the legendary El Bulli is long shuttered, some of the renowned restaurant’s staff serve up fare in several nearby restaurants. One of the best, Compartir, is just up from the beach in Cadaques. Summer is the best time to visit when Mediterranean breezes carry the scent of blooming jasmine and citrus in the atmospheric courtyard.

Hostal Sa Rascassa's quaint dining courtyard.

Our last night’s dinner was the most extraordinary in some ways, featuring the most beautiful—and unexpected—route to the garden courtyard and entry of Hostal Sa Rascassa. Nestled in woods high above the Mediterranean, the restaurant is reached via a winding road that takes you through movie set-like Begur with its medieval tower and weathered stone castle. Sit outside in the restaurant’s Eden-like courtyard or tuck into a table in the cozy rooms of the restaurant. In either spot you can devour perfectly-prepared seafood and plenty of locally-sourced dishes.

Stay:
Hostal Sa Rascassa offers a few rooms and is walking distance to a beach.

Castell de Rocaberti.

For larger parties, consider renting the rambling and historic Castell de Rocaberti.

Visit:
Spend a few hours at Sant Marti dÉmpuries—a sleepy little coastal village with a small street lined with restaurants with outdoor cafés.

Visit Besalú for its stunning 11th century medieval bridge and buildings.

Although it’s not sleepy, the small but bustling city of Girona boasts a lively historic quarter that includes a unique museum devoted to the history of Catalonian Jews (most of whom were forced to convert to Christianity or were expelled during the Great Inquisition).

Sardines in Caduques.

The classic onion pie at La Barretina de Orfes.

Compartir's relaxed outdoor dining area.

A view from the historic Castell de Rocaberti.

Soured on Napa? Sonoma's Still Sweet.

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 26 Jan 2019 04:01:00 +0000

In the 1980s when I first visited the Napa Valley it was casual, recently discovered, and in its adolescence tourism-wise. I casually drove around the valley, visiting different wineries on a whim. And I loved it. After an absence of nearly three decades, I recently made a return visit. And while Napa’s wines might be aging well, the same can’t be said for the valley.

Traffic clogs the area’s few major thoroughfares and the streets of once sleepy towns. Reservations are essential at restaurants and wineries. And everything is large, luxe or shellacked with a perky shopping mall patina of fresh paint, including coffee shops, tasting rooms, restaurants and stores. Even the parking lots of wineries haven’t been overlooked—they’re designed, sculpted, and landscaped. If there’s a speck of dust or something out of place in a town or tasting room, it’s an anomaly.

This was not the Napa of thirty years past, the dimly-lit tasting rooms heavy with the scent of spilled and aging wine, dusty bocce ball courts, or sleepy rural roads. No, that Napa is gone.

MacRostie vineyard.

Fortunately, there are other areas that resemble the Napa of three decades ago. And one of them is a mere hour’s drive from Napa. Sure, neighboring Sonoma isn’t a secret and is a tourist destination itself. But there are still many corners of Sonoma that are quiet, serene, and unpolished.

During a recent visit to Sonoma, I joined family and friends and rented a rambling house on a thickly wooded hilltop above Guerneville. From this convenient base, we visited a number of nearby wineries—all of which were sleepy and casual by Napa norms.

Passalaqua vineyard.

Just to the east, Westside Road carves a meandering route through wooded hills, rolling pastureland, and acres of vineyards. There are enough wineries along the route to spend a few afternoons here, and when you finish, you end up in Healdsburg which offers several excellent restaurants, including Chalkboard and Campo Fina.

As for the wineries, here are some favorites along Westside Road and nearby.

Mill Creek Skip the winery’s dark tasting room and head outside to the terrace which provides views of Dry Creek Valley vineyards, a millpond, and a working water wheel.

Passalacqua With a deck and perfectly landscaped grounds, Passalacqua might offer the most beautiful wine tasting spot in the area. While reservations are recommended, our party of five just showed up, followed an hour later by four more of our party, and we were all accommodated—cheerfully.

Martin Ray offers a number of seating areas, some situated on the edge of the vineyards.

MacRostie Located on a storybook hilltop circled by vineyards, MacRostie offers one the best views in the area. While the airy, sleek rooms inside offer expansive views of the countryside, you’ll want to sip wine on one the decks which seem to hover over the adjacent vineyards.

Martin Ray This small winery offers several seating areas situated in several gardens loaded with colorful flowers. A shaded bocce ball court tempted, but I chose to sit under a colorful umbrella and focus on tasting wine.

Arista Full disclosure: we didn’t visit this winery, but we drove past it several times and were tempted by its verdant setting and excellent reviews.

Passalaqua vineyard.

Last Call: Cairo’s Egyptian Museum

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 15 Dec 2018 03:51:00 +0000

When I first traveled to Egypt in the 1990’s, I was surprised to find that I was drawn to the storied Egyptian Museum--though for reasons different than those of many visitors. The museum was unlike any other I’d seen: ancient baskets, tools, sculptures, tools, ceramics, and all sorts of other relics were stacked—sometimes haphazardly—on crowded wooden shelves, cabinets, display cases, and even the floor.

It was as if the archaeologists of a century earlier had carefully emptied the piles of riches from tombs and excavation sites and hurriedly transferred them to the Beaux-Arts storage facility. The place is a captivating combination of Indiana Jones’ private collection and a dusty, treasure-packed museum from a different century.

While museums across the world modernized during the second half of the twentieth century, creating dramatic displays featuring high tech visual and lighting touches and placing collections behind glass and within hermetically-sealed, secure display cases, the Egyptian Museum changed little. The museum is a Beaux-Arts relic housing a vast collection of ancient Egyptian antiquities—the largest in the world.

The museum isn’t just full to the rafters with treasures; it’s also full of atmosphere. Casement windows stand open to the dust, heat, and the sound of calls to prayer of chaotic Cairo. Stairways and passageways show the passage of time and wear from the feet of millions of tourists. Shafts of golden sunlight, alive with glowing bits of dust and sand, dance in the air currents.

The museum isn’t too cleaned up or too sterile—and that’s exactly what I like about it.

I saw the King Tutankhamun exhibit when it traveled to Chicago in the late 1970s. Massive crowds clustered around a sampling of the tomb’s artifacts which stood behind thick glass or housed in cases. I didn’t realize at the time that I was seeing only a small sample of the tomb’s treasures. At the Egyptian Museum, however, the entire, massive collection is spread among many rooms. And while the temptation can’t be seriously entertained, it’s possible to touch many of the items here and to bring your eyeball within inches of the artifacts. You can inhale the dust of pharaohs and people who lived two, three, even nearly four thousand years ago. And you can get your eyeball within inches of tools, pottery, baskets, and other items they used.

But all of this will be changing very soon. Within the next year or so, a giant new museum will open near the pyramids in Giza. This new museum, years in the making, will house all of the Egyptian antiquities, including many that have been in storage due to space limitations at the crowded Cairo museum.

While the modern museum will be a masterpiece of design and provide enough space to display more antiquities, it will no longer provide a snapshot of an earlier era or offer opportunities to come face to face with ancient statues and artifacts.

So make a trip to experience the Egyptian Museum as it’s existed since it’s opening in the early 1900’s. But hurry--it's days are numbered.

Planning a visit? Your Egypt Tours provides expert guides and custom tours of the entire country.

Off the Chain (Hotels)

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Wed, 17 Oct 2018 00:21:00 +0000

A few dozen years ago the world was chock full of bland chain hotels. For travelers looking for lodging with a sense of place and style, options were limited. A Four Seasons or Hilton in Frankfort resembled a Four Seasons or Hilton in Honolulu. And non-chain, smaller, and independent hotels were few, particularly in the U.S.

These days, there are lots of spots that reflect the cities, neighborhoods, or villages they inhabit. Quirky, small, historic, or unique, these hotels celebrate where they are, tempting you to never go further than your cozy room or handsome lobby.

Guatemala's Lomas de Tzununu.

While this is hardly an exhaustive guide, here are a few of my favorite small spots that offer something the large chains cannot—character, tranquility, and style with a sense of place.

Striking Gold in Guatemala

For more than ten years I’ve made a pilgrimage to Guatemala’s Lake Atitlan, a highland lake seemingly scooped out of the collapsed caldera of an ancient volcano. You can see hundreds of images of the immense lake, its jewel-blue waters dominated by conical volcanoes looming in the background, but still be unprepared for your first view of it.

A view of Lake Atitlan from La Fortuna.

For many years I stayed at Lomas de Tzununu which perches high above Atitlan and boasts jaw-dropping views. Recently, I returned and stayed at La Fortuna Atitlan, a newer hotel tucked into a thicket of trees between the lakeshore and the steep, jungle-clad walls of the caldera behind it.

La Fortuna offers a handful of casitas—all with lake views. No two casitas are alike, though all offer al fresco bathrooms with showers open to the tropical sky. Patios and terraces serve as well-designed perches from which to soak up the lake views, birdwatch, or eat breakfast.

Speaking of breakfast, the meal (delivered to your room) is best enjoyed on the terrace in the company of the volcanoes, benevolent sun, and birdsong. For dinner, reserve a spot at the communal, candlit table in the lodge for conversation and tasty meals (you’ll forget you’re off the grid and far from the nearest village reachable only via boat).

Breakfast at La Fortuna.

Even if rooms don’t come with views of an immense lake, Mayan Inn in the market town of Chichicastenango is one of my favorite hotels in the world. Adorned with antiques and paintings, bucketsful of charm, and old fireplaces that burn brightly at night when you’re likely to feel the chill of highland nights, the hotel is a pleasing holdover from nearly two centuries ago. To wit, if bright lights, Wifi everywhere, and modern bathrooms are your thing, Mayan Inn will not be your thing. But if you’d like to step back in time to experience a hotel that’s changed little since tourists first arrived here in the early 1900s, this is a place to visit.

Location, Location, Location: Rome’s Hassler

Rome’s legendary and historic Hassler sits like a crown jewel at the top of the Spanish Steps. While it might seem an odd and perhaps cliché choice, its inclusion on this list makes sense if you book rooms in the hotel’s dependency’s rooms. Sitting just below the Hassler, the dependency consists of a small collection of rooms clustered around a narrow, winding stair hall adjacent to the Spanish Steps. Take the steps up and you pop out on a private roof terrace with some of the best views in the area. Take the stairs down and you’ll exit onto a crowded pedestrian street that provides access to this historic quarter.

Worried about noise? Insulated windows shut out most of the street sounds, though you can easily swing open the windows for views and to welcome in the hurly-burly of the popular neighborhood.

Surprisingly spacious rooms, decorated in whites and muted tones, marble, and silk, resemble hushed, heavenly oases. Our bathroom’s small window even afforded a picture perfect view of Santissima Trinità dei Monti, the iconic church that sits atop the steps.

Take breakfast in one of the many nearby cafés or restaurants or trek up to the Hassler mother ship for a gigantic buffet.

Chicago Channels Grand Canal at Athletic Association Hotel

No other hotel in the world is quite like the Athletic Association because no other hotel is housed in a former private club designed to resemble a grand palazzo in Venice. With its intact Venetian Gothic windows (that peek over Michigan Avenue, Millennium Park, and deep blue Lake Michigan in the distance), the hotel’s public areas and rooms prompt giddy confusion: am I in an historic palazzo on the Grand Canal or visiting America’s third largest city?

The cavernous lobby with original architectural features including arches, massive stone fireplaces, and coffered ceilings is the perfect spot for a cocktail. More serious eats in an equally inspiring setting can be found in the Cherry Circle Room restaurant (reservations recommended).

Shinta Mani: Shangri-La in Cambodia’s Siem Reap

Designed by Bill Bensley, Shinta Mani and its corridors, courtyards, and rooms reflect careful consideration of every element—no plant, piece of furniture, fountain, or candle is out of place. Laid out using feng shui principles, the hotel represents the antithesis of chain hotels with their cookie cutter layouts.

Inside, an atmosphere of Zen pervades. Fountains bubble, birds chirp. Small garden courtyards echo with the sounds of silence.

If there’s a downside to Shinta Mani, it’s that you may be tempted to never leave the spa-like, serenity-soaked spaces of its rooms or its public spaces, If you must leave—and you must because the temples of Angkor Wat beckon—when you return exhausted from climbing ruins and hiking through jungle in the tropical heat, you can fall asleep with images of Angkor Wat depicted in dimly-lit ceiling insets above your bed.

Palatial Lodgings in Belgium’s Medieval Bruge

Belgian chocolate--part of the breakfast buffet at Dukes' Palace.

The tourist-clogged, storybook streets of Bruge can overwhelm, particularly in high season. And that’s the perfect reason to choose Dukes' Palace which sits in a sleepy corner of the historic district. High ceilings, grand stairways, and sitting areas fit for a duke (if not for a king) provide this former palace with atmosphere unmatched in other area hotels.

For more space and privacy, book one of the semi-independent cottages facing the garden at the property’s rear.

For a step back in time (tasty Belgian brews included), check out what may be the world’s oldest bar on a sleepy side street in a residential neighborhood: Cafe Vlisslinghe.

TIP: Don’t skip the Duke’s buffet breakfast which includes Belgian chocolate and champagne.

One of the Robey's rooftop terraces.

The Robey: Art Deco in Wicker Park

For years I admired a flatiron shaped, monumental building in the heart of Wicker Park and thought it would make an interesting hotel. As it turns out, so did a Mexico City-based hotel group. A few years ago, this art deco gem was transformed from an office building into The Robey, a quirky, relaxed hotel that offers easy access to O’Hare, the Loop, and most importantly, the boutiques, restaurants, and bars of one of the most interesting neighborhoods in the world.

Urbane, comfy rooms offer striking views of the surrounding neighborhood and Oz-like downtown skyline. In warm weather, two terraces offer views that will cause architecture fans to geek out. Tasty cocktails help to digest the views.

Antiques abound at Guatemala's Mayan Inn.

Rooms at the Mayan Inn come with fireplaces--and a dedicated attendant.

Shinta Mani: Shangri-La in Angkor Wat’s Shadows

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Mon, 03 Sep 2018 21:12:00 +0000

“The Chinese are taking the water,” our young, pencil-thin thin boat driver complained. “That’s why the river is low.”

And the river was low which was causing our rickety wooden boat to run aground. Often. We were attempting to travel from Battambong to Siem Reap, Cambodia on a vessel we dubbed “The African Queen” as it offered all the charm and comforts of that fabled boat.

The trip was scheduled to last around four hours, but ended up taking nine. And much of the delay was caused by our boat’s hull playing kissy-face with the river bottom. The drivers and passengers of nearby boats, as well as the countryside’s kids swimming in the Kahlua-colored river, pushed us through the shallow spots. But the going was slow and we fell far behind schedule.

When we finally pulled into the dock near Siem Reap at sunset, we were sore, tired, sweaty, thirsty, dirty—and anxious to arrive at an oasis: our hotel.

For around thirty-minutes we drove on a winding, undulating road through Siem Reap’s dream-like neighborhoods full of flowering jacaranda, ginger, heliconia, and bougainvillea while faint clouds of dust glowed pink in the setting sun. We hadn’t even reached our hotel and already we breathed a collective sigh of relief; we’d arrived.

At the Eden-like entrance to Shinta Mani, hotel staff met us with mint and lemon-grass-flavored water and cool, jasmine-scented towels. Just inside, glasses of champagne waited. To reach them, we walked through open-air passageways decorated with sculptures, orchids, lotus arrangements, reflecting pools, and fountains. Large oil paintings, glowing candles, and lush tropical flower arrangements—works of art themselves—filled the walls, corners, tabletops, and nooks.

I could have stopped at a half dozen tranquil spots and sank to the polished floor to take a nap or assume child’s pose. But we had yet to arrive in the candle-lit reception room to check in and then to wander more pristine passageways before we ultimately arrived in our refined rooms.

While we had traveled to Siem Reap to visit Angkor Wat, we soon realized that our hotel was a worthwhile destination on its own.

Designed by Bill Bensley, the hotel’s corridors, courtyards, and rooms reflect careful consideration of every element—no plant, piece of furniture, fountain, or candle is out of place. Laid out using feng shui principles, the hotel represents the antithesis of chain hotels with their cookie cutter layouts. Every element of Shinta Mani seems unique and of the place.

Just a block away, a major thoroughfare is full of the roar of tuk-tuks, buses, and motorcycles. Inside Shinta Mani, though, an atmosphere of Zen pervades—no noise permeates the walls and green fences. Fountains bubble, birds chirp. Small garden courtyards echo with the sounds of silence.

In the rooms, arrangements of tropical flowers and fruits doubles as a work of art (and they’re refreshed at least daily). Sunny mornings, sublime and tranquil, are marked by hotel staff who sit cross-legged on a raised platform in the stair hall and speak in hushed, melodic tones as they assemble the lotus and tropical flower arrangements that decorate the public spaces and rooms.

If there’s a downside to Shinta Mani, it’s that you may be tempted to never leave the spa-like, serenity-soaked spaces of its rooms or its public spaces, If you must leave—and you must because the temples of Angkor Wat beckon—when you return exhausted from climbing ruins and hiking through jungle in the tropical heat, you can fall asleep with images of Angkor Wat depicted in dimly-lit ceiling insets above your bed.

Cocktail Couture in Paris

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 02 Jun 2018 13:09:00 +0000

A perfect Manhattan at La Closerie.

Those forward-thinking cities that were early adopters of cocktail culture often boast classic and historic bars. Of course, some spots are tourist traps and others serve cocktails that don’t match their reputation. In the case of Paris, though, the city has been mixing drinks for more than a century and boasts several bars worth a visit—or two.

La Closerie des Lilas

Montparnasse is a bit removed from the main sites of Paris, so plenty of tourists don’t bother to visit. And that’s their loss.

During a recent trip to the historic La Closerie Des Lilas in Montparnasse, we lucked out as the garden lilacs, the restaurant’s namesake, were blooming and filling the courtyard, bar, dining room and brasserie with their sweet scent. And, while they weren’t fragrant, camellias, azaleas, tulips, and daffodils in the entrance garden lent an air of enchantment to the spot.

F. Scott Fitzgerald's spot at La Closerie.

Though charming, the courtyard garden—where Lenin played checkers and Hemingway probably pontificated—aren’t the main attraction. No, many come for the bar, a haunt of literary luminaries including F. Scott Fitzgerald and Simone de Beauvoir and artists such as Picasso (look for brass nameplates on bar tables to see where your favorites sat). All this history comes with a side of expertly-prepared cocktails.

From April through August, the last golden rays of daylight shine all the way into the bar, casting the whole place in a timeless, ethereal glow.

Warning: Bowlfuls of old school, house-made potato chips and green olives accompany drink orders, but may prove addictive.

Café Deux Magots

Most people think of this historic spot for breakfast or a café au lait with a shot of serious café culture. But Deux Magots also serves cocktails and offers one of the best seats in the city for watching a parade of Left Bankers stroll past.

Waiters at Deux Magot dress for work.

On a recent trip, we visited at cocktail hour and the place was packed with regulars, office workers, and tourists. Comfortably seated in classic café chairs just off busy Boulevard Saint Germain, we ordered Old Fashioneds which were poured tableside with a flourish by a poised, black suit-clad waiter. On a mild April night, we people watched, sipped our perfect cocktails and enjoyed a storybook view of the medieval, stone-clad Saint Germain church across the square.

Hemingway Bar at the Ritz

It’s said that when Paris was liberated from the Nazis, Hemingway celebrated with a drink at the old bar at the Ritz on historic Place Vendôme. To Hemingway, Paris was back to normal when cocktails were once again being shaken and stirred in the marble-clad rooms of the old hotel.

Well, the combination of Hemingway, the liberation of Paris, history, and the bar’s pedigree meant the place ranked high on my list of institutions to check out. I’d tried to visit during previous trips, but the stars were never aligned (once I was wearing jeans, once I was too early, and once I was too late and the small two-room bar was at capacity). Well, my fourth visit was the charm. (And I was charmed.)

At cocktail hour, a waiter ceremoniously opened large doors, revealing two intimate rooms with a handful of low, petite tables, a half dozen bar stools, and a smaller room up a few stairs. Memorabilia and ephemera—in some cases seemingly and in others obviously—associated with the Oak Park, Illinois writer fill the walls.

What the place lacks in space it makes up for in ambiance—well, and prices (most cocktails are 30 euro and higher.) Despite a wait for entry and elevated prices, I’m glad I went, though I’m not sure I need to return.

(Note: If you plan to visit, a line begins to form 30 minutes prior to the 6:00 p.m. opening.)

Le Bar's well-equipped, well, bar.

L’Hotel

Tucked into a sleepy backstreet in the Latin Quarter, the storied L’Hotel and its intimate, posh bar offer a welcome retreat from the hurly burly world outside. More luxe and discreet than the Ritz, L’Hotel’s bar offers cocktails that are nearly half the price of those at the Right Bank Hemingway haunt, but every bit as tasty.

If you can swing the adjacent Michelin-starred restaurant, Le Restaurant, book a table well in advance. If you’re doing drinks and dinner, you may as well consider staying the night. The 20-room L’Hotel is the smallest five star hotel in Paris. Having provided rooms for Oscar Wilde, Princess Grace and Elizabeth Taylor, the hotel might be the perfect spot to rest your head after exploring Paris’ cocktail couture.

Provence's Legendary La Colombe d’Or Still Sparkles

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Tue, 27 Mar 2018 02:33:00 +0000

For travel junkies, the world is full of iconic, mythical destinations. Maybe we read about them in novels or travel magazines, or perhaps we heard an author or famous actress talk about a visit to the spot during an interview on a talk show. Wherever or however we heard about them, they captured our imagination.

In the early 80s, several years before I took my first trip to Europe, I read about such a place, a restaurant housed in a cozy inn near Nice. The restaurant, La Colombe d’Or, sat on the edge of Saint-Paul de Vence, a sleepy Medieval village perched on a mountaintop overlooking the Mediterranean.

The inn was the haunt of Picasso and Matisse, Chagall, and Miró, and many others. During the day, the artists soaked up the warm Provencal sun, played boules on dusty courts, and sipped chilled rosé. In the evenings, they gathered around candlelit tables for wine-soaked dinners, philosophizing, and exquisite food served by hotel founders Paul Roux and his wife Baptistine. Because many guests were struggling artists (at the time, anyway), they paid their bills in artwork—paintings, sculptures, and watercolors. Instead of hanging the art in their own home or selling it, Roux and his wife displayed it throughout the inn and restaurant.

When I first traveled to Europe as a college student, I was traveling with a backpack and staying in pensiones and small hotels—some of which didn’t even offer hot water. I thrilled at the sense of adventure, the concept that everything I needed was in my front pocket and, to a lesser degree, in the pack I carried on my back.

But during those first trips to Europe, I couldn’t even remotely consider a dinner at a place like La Colombe d’Or.

“Someday,” I told myself. And that day eventually came.

A few years ago, I finally made it to La Colombe. To reach the restaurant, my partner and a friend and I boarded a small bus that took us from the buzzing center of Nice to a sleepy square in Saint-Paul de
Vence. Unbelievably, a group of men stood in the square playing a game of pétanque.

Seriously? Had the local tourist council paid them?

We strolled around the charming but touristy village, admiring the views down to the deep blue Mediterranean which sparkled in the late morning sun, and then explored the narrow cobblestone streets. As noon approached, we slipped through the unassuming garden gates of La Colombe and found ourselves in an enchanted world—a courtyard crowded with white-clothed tables, creamy market umbrellas, ivy-covered stone walls, and sculptures.

Lunch began—as it should—with cocktails: bubble-riddled golden champagne and fiery-orange aperol spritzes. We watched the terrace fill with foodies, destination tourists much like ourselves, fashionistas from Paris, and lucky locals looking for a good lunch. Maybe we were projecting, but the atmosphere was celebratory, not stuffy. Kids at a nearby table were never hushed and when we tragically spilled a glass of sancerre, not an eyebrow was raised. Sure, the prices were above average, but the attitude and atmosphere were casual.

We sat in the benevolent shade of an umbrella on that warm afternoon, chewing on crusty bread smeared with local pâté. And as the sun shifted and waiters jumped to reposition umbrellas, we sipped champagne surrounded by sculptures made by modern masters. And things only got better after that.

The lunch menu didn’t overwhelm with options. Instead, a sampling of French classics were the rule. And why would you want it to offer anything else?

After dining on oysters from Brittany, delicate Sole Meunière, au gratin potatoes, roasted asparagus, and boeuf, we wandered around the inn. Just beyond an unassuming doorway off the restaurant courtyard, we found a marble-topped front desk with nearby seating that overlooked a verdant, overgrown garden which plunged down the mountainside. Further inside a pool and terrace tempted us to linger. Or stretch out and take a nap.

And finally, we wandered through a few adjoining rooms in the classic restaurant—its walls crowded with original oil paintings and water colors. One room featured a large fireplace that conjured up images of crisp winter nights, candlelight setting the rooms aglow, and a roaring fire providing heat. But with its verdant garden and mullioned windows overlooking the sublime courtyard, Colombe d’Or in my view is best visited in warm weather months.

La Colombe d’Or represents a restaurant from a bygone era—in the best way. Made famous by artists, writers and actors, the restaurant and inn were destinations because they served great food and their walls were crowded with masterpieces of modern art that painters and sculptors used to pay their bills.

For a lover of art, history, culture, and cuisine, there’s no other spot on the planet that compares.

Stepping Back in Time at Guatemala’s Tranquil Mayan Inn

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Tue, 20 Feb 2018 00:55:00 +0000

Despite the presence of bland chain hotels in even some of the most remote corners of the world, there remain thousands of small, unique hotels tucked onto narrow lanes or hidden in quiet quarters of cities and villages.

During a recent trip to Guatemala, I stumbled across just such a hotel in the highland village of Chichicastenango. Somehow I’d taken multiple trips to this culture-rich country and well-known market town without finding the one-of-a-kind, charm-filled Mayan Inn.

Tucked behind one of the two elevated white-washed colonial churches that serve as iconic bookends in the village center, the Mayan Inn is quasi-museum, part cozy Central American inn, and complete time-capsule. Opened in 1932, the inn is crammed with antiques and original oil paintings and has changed little in intervening days.

Housed in a former monastery, the hotel has several bougainvillea-framed courtyards, shady loggias, and bubbling fountains. Best of all, each room offers a fireplace and an attendant who will build and stoke the fire. Nights can be chilly in the highlands, but a blazing fire along with thick, locally-made, fuzzy wool blankets on the beds will make you swear off warm nights in the Tropics.

Need your fire built or stoked, want some fresh water, or need more towels? Press a clunky, metal button above your bed to summon an attendant assigned to your room. Until a few years ago, rooms didn’t even have locks, but were watched by the attendant. These days, rooms have deadbolts, but attendants remain.

It might be tempting to spend your whole visit in the friendly confines of the hotel. Don’t. Steps away you’ll find the massive craft and food market, historic, unique churches which combine Mayan and Catholic traditions, and the colorful cemetery which includes functioning Mayan temples.

It took me several trips to this otherworldly market town to find the Mayan Inn, but it’s on my radar now. And next time I plan to stay longer.

Bonus: An old school bartender shakes and stirs classic cocktails in the high-ceilinged rooms of the bar. A blazing fire can be set at cocktail hour and original oil paintings provide apt and fitting pairings for the expertly-crafted old school cocktails. For afternoon drinks, ask the bartender to set up a table in the shady loggia overlooking the garden.

Cautions: Vintage bathrooms are spotless, but might not be to everyone’s liking. If you’re looking for a throwback experience that can’t be duplicated anywhere else, stay here.

Details: Rooms are around $100/night. Basic, non-gourmet meals are served in an airy dining room which also has a fireplace and daytime views of a garden and the surrounding countryside.

www.mayaninn.com

Athens: More Than Merely the Acropolis

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Tue, 31 Oct 2017 02:15:00 +0000

Athens gets a bad rap. “It’s dirty.” “There’s nothing interesting there except the Acropolis.” “What an ugly city.”

These were all warnings I heard before I visited. But this historic, sun-washed city held far more charms than I’d anticipated.

Views of the Acropolis from the Plaka.

As with any city, ancient Athens has its less attractive neighborhoods, but there is plenty to like about it—and I’m not talking about just the Acropolis. No, there are plenty of reasons Athens is worth a stay much longer than a day.

For starters, well, there is that Acropolis thing. And don’t shortchange it. To do it properly, you’ll need a full morning or afternoon (and a guide). And if it’s a warm day, water. Another tip: ancient marble that has seen the soles of millions of feet becomes slippery. So watch your step (most of which are uneven, incidentally), but be sure to relish the fact that you’re treading upon ancient stones that have witnessed the birth of democracy, Plato’s oratories, and visits by Alexander the Great. If visiting the Acropolis is the only thing you do in Athens, you’ll find that it was worth the trip.

But there is plenty more to see and do.

At the foot of the Acropolis is Dionysos, a restaurant with expansive terraces that just happen to have amazing views of, well, the Acropolis. If anything beats the experience of climbing around the ancient marbles of the ruins, it’s viewing it all from a short distance away.

In the shadow of the Acropolis, the architecturally stunning New Acropolis Museum straddles excavated ancient ruins. All three levels stacked above the ancient foundation are loaded with statuary, busts, ceramics, mosaics and a rich assortment of artifacts from the Acropolis and nearby sites. After you’ve taken in the art and history, reward yourself with food and drink on the museum’s rooftop terrace which provides difficult-to-digest views of the Acropolis.

View of the Acropolis from Dionysos.

Maybe it’s just me, but after studying the Acropolis in college and pining to make a pilgrimage for dozens of years, I couldn’t get enough of the vistas of the ancient temple’s gleaming white marble columns rising high above the city. Interestingly, the more ouzo or wine you consume, the easier the jaw-dropping view is to digest.

Greek-made ceramics from Dexipos
and Green Thumbs on Aiolou Street.

While owls have ascended to hipster icon status during the past decade or so in the States, they’ve always been hip in Greece—well, for a mere few millennia, anyway. Symbol of Athena, Athen’s namesake, the owl is more common in this country than a Cubs hat in Chicago. If you’re into owls (or even if you’re not), you’ll find a rich assortment of the handcrafted variety in wood, ceramic, and stone at many shops. My favorites were at Dexipos Art Gallery—which I’ll get to next.

Like any city that attracts crowds of tourists, Athens has a lot of shops stuffed with unremarkable souvenirs and crafts, some even sporting labels that read “Made in China”. My favorite, Dexipos, is located deep in the Plaka, the oldest section of the city, and just above the ancient Roman Agora which lies in the shadows of the Acropolis. The gallery’s crowded rooms are crammed with a wide variety of ceramics, paintings and sculptures—from 15 euro owls to $6,000 ceramic versions of the Trojan horse that are the size of a small car. This is the perfect spot to find unique souvenirs and gifts that are hand-crafted and made in Greece. After you’ve finished shopping, visit one of the nearby sidewalk cafes that offer some shade, cold drinks, and views of the Acropolis above or the ruins of the Roman Agora below.

If you’re in Athens for a quick trip and don’t have time to visit one of Greece’s famed islands, you can enjoy a bit of their atmosphere just half an hour’s drive from the city center. My favorite was Astir (25 euro entry), a private crescent beach set within an inlet guarded by rocky bluffs. It offers well-groomed sand, umbrellas, comfy lounges, crystalline water—and food and beverage service. And if you’re interested in sea views but not a beach, head to Ithaki, a fine aerie-like restaurant situated above the cove.

Astir Beach.

Looking for the perfect spot for a final night’s dinner? Check out Première which sits atop the non-descript Hotel InterContinental. Michelin-starred and offering creative takes on traditional Greek foods and ingredients, Première boasts—what else?—views of the Acropolis. Particularly when the weather’s warm and the expansive terrace’s lounge areas and dining areas are open, this is the perfect spot for great food and drinks and a final view of the Acropolis.

For more information or to book tours for groups or individuals, contact Greek Link at info@greeklink.gr

A street in the Plaka and the Roman Agora.

The Last American Buffalo

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 24 Sep 2017 17:03:00 +0000

Life changes abruptly for teen-aged Travis Whiting when he’s arrested while attending a protest march in Chicago in the run-up to the Iraq War. Sentenced to work a summer of Saturdays at the sprawling estate of Mr. Gudon, a wealthy Wisconsin widower, Travis’ once-sleepy world is shaken as he forms an unlikely friendship with the callous old recluse.

As the summer progresses, Mr. Gudon shares stories of his experiences in Thailand during World War Two which involve marrying a nurse who cared for a wounded fellow soldier in war-torn Bangkok. Weekly conversations bring to life an exotic and other-worldly Thailand, but the old veteran’s stories yield an equal amount of mystery. Why did the wealthy and handsome Mr. Gudon turn recluse and what happened to his injured friend?

Travis meets Lance, a Native American trespassing on Mr. Gudon’s estate as he completes a vision quest near ancient, hidden Indian mounds. Lance has a disturbing dream about Mr. Gudon, but Travis, having come to see the old man as lonely and kind, dismisses his warning.

When Travis begins working with his mother at a nearby organic farm, he meets the quirky and attractive Clare Simmons, but doesn’t trust her. As summer’s heat fades into the coolness of fall, Travis finds a letter in Mr. Gudon’s memento and gun-filled study that reveals a secret that has remained hidden since World War Two. The discovery sets off a series of events, finally uniting Clare and Travis, but also triggering tragic outcomes.

Set in the rolling green farmland of southern Wisconsin during the early 2000’s, The Last American Buffalo reveals the power of love, secrets and denial.

You can purchase The Last American Buffalo on Amazon here. .

Genoa: Birthplace of Columbus Awaiting Discovery

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 08 Mar 2015 22:45:00 +0000

Planning a trip to Italy this coming spring or summer? Chances are you’re planning to visit Florence, Venice or Rome, right? But why not add one more destination, one that’s not on most travelers’ itineraries?

Birthplace of Columbus, ancient seapower and still-functioning seaport, Genoa, Italy attracts few tourists—a shame for it, but a great opportunity for the curious traveler seeking that rarity: an Italian city without tante turiste.

To wit: these days it’s tougher than ever to escape crowds. Paris hosted 32.3 million tourists last year, Machu Picchu 3.1 million, and the Grand Canyon 4.5 million. Every year, more travelers crowd the world’s most popular sites and cities—which makes the less popular ones all the more appealing.

My parents taught me to get off the beaten track and stray from where tourists clustered, so from my first stop in 1989 at the atmosphere-rich, old Genoa train station sandwiched between bluffs and crumbling, terra cotta colored walls, I knew I had to visit.

And that visit finally occurred this past October.

And what did I find? An active seaport that boasts a row of grand palazzi, a harbor lined with cafés and restaurants, and one of the largest medieval quarters in Europe.

And the icing on the cake: the seaside city receives barely a trickle of tourists.

So why isn’t Genoa thronged with tourists? Well, the Mediterranean seaport is a little rough around the edges, more Naples than Florence. But if you prefer a city with streets lined with shops and businesses that serve residents instead of tourists, you’ll find plenty that pleases.

Winding, dark streets in the medieval quarter don’t have an abundance of polished cafés and restaurants, but serve as home to middle and working class Genovese. Toward the west, the quarter is occupied by immigrants from Africa and the Middle East. Throughout the neighborhood you’ll find small shops, stand up coffee bars, churches, small groceries, and few t-shirt shops. Churches are dusty, grand, and quiet.

Once one of the toniest streets in the world, Strada Nuova still boasts palazzi, but today they’re open to the public (complete with rooftop views of the harbor and medieval quarter).

For the kids there is a harbor side aquarium and sea cruises that feature dolphin sightings and views of seaside towns. For the parents, there’s great shopping (including, um, leather goods) and Old World cafés just outside the medieval quarter.

Best of all, Genoa is relatively undiscovered by the American tourist, so you can play a little like Columbus in reverse and discover his hometown.

Bosque del Cabo: For Spotting Lions or Lying Around, a Sublime Lodge in Costa Rica

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 02:52:00 +0000

For many years I preferred active vacations, whether it was backpacking to Machu Picchu or wandering the streets of Montmartre. To me, vacations were a chance to experience the world—not to merely melt into the sand on a beach or swing in a hammock.

These days, hectic workdays and creeping age have combined to make a slacker’s vacation more attractive.

I’ve traveled to Costa Rica many times and have wandered the tourist route (Monteverde’s cloud forest, Arenal's volcano and hot springs, the Nicoya Peninsula’s beaches, Manuel Antonio’s wildlife-packed national park) and explored some lesser-known spots such as Uvita, Dominical and San Gerardo de Dota.

Before this February, though, there were some recommended areas, the Osa Peninsula and Corcovado National Park, that I hadn’t made it to yet. I was told that these areas—with only a few hotels and a remote location—were the most pristine and boasted the most wildlife.

Bosque del Cabo, a 45-minute drive on a pockmarked, rock-strewn road from a little airstrip in the dusty town of Puerto Jimenez, is an off-the-grid rainforest lodge and reserve that bills itself as the best place in the country to spot a rare and elusive lion (or puma, as they’re called in these parts). I’ll admit: I was skeptical. Staff at other reserves I’ve visited (in every Central American country except El Salvador) advised that pumas are never sighted.

Well, after my arrival at this isolated and verdant slice of pristine rain forest, I decided that merely spending some days in the company of giant trees, adjacent to thick, emerald-green jungle and 500 feet above the Pacific would be enough. I didn’t need to see a lion. Heck, I didn’t need to see any wildlife.

Upon our arrival, smiling staff greeted us with tumblers full of blackberry juice, so fresh, rejuvenating and delicious I didn’t even mind that it wasn’t sluiced with some spirit.

Before being escorted to the house we rented (and stopping off to see a slumbering sloth locked onto a tree limb), we inhaled lunches full of locally sourced ingredients, including fish, crisp greens, citrus and nuts. The setting for the communal meals is an enormous palapa (an open-sided, thatch roofed structure) overlooking sweeping lawns dotted with blooming bushes and palms. I was sorry to leave such a setting, but when I arrived at the house, I was quickly smitten. Spacious rooms and an expansive terrace of polished, mahogany floors, plantation shutters, and private views overlooked a tangle of jungle that plunged to the ocean far below.

That’s the problem with this place: there are so many idyllic spots that I felt as inconstant and fickle as a teenager. No matter where I was—the hammock, the terrace, a groomed trail, a hanging bridge, the pool or the restaurant—it was my favorite place.

After settling in, we quickly figured out that an expensive trip to nearby Corcovado National Park was unnecessary: the private reserve right where we were boasted more wildlife and groomed trails to boot. For the ambitious, there’s a steep trail that descends to the pristine shoreline and its empty beaches. Walk to the right and you’ll enjoy miles of uninterrupted beach and rough surf (there’s no swimming here). For those who prefer a swim after their hike, a different trail descends from the hotel grounds to the wide and equally empty swimming beaches along the calm Golfo Dulce.

But a person doesn’t travel to Bosque for the beaches. It’s the wildlife and rain forest that attract a small but steady flow of tourists to the two-dozen bungalows and houses.

All four species of monkeys swing in the nearby trees - and oftentimes from the trees above your bungalow. Brightly colored frogs, armadillos, peccaries, capybaras, and snakes (yes, even some venomous sorts) hang out in the neighboring forest (while the four-legged animals and monkeys are known to visit the grounds, snakes stick mostly to the jungle. Mostly.)

Mornings start before first light with the calls of howler monkeys. (Yes, this would be sometime around 4:00 am.) Second-string parrots and myriad songbirds join in around 5:00 or so. And just after dawn, late-to-rise but instantly garrulous macaws spin overhead and fill the air with their primeval call. I’ve seen scarlet macaws in other spots in Costa Rica, but never have I seen so many so often.

And then there are the pumas. One was spotted on one of the trails near the Casa Blanca where we stayed just a few days before we arrived. And another was spotted on the main road just after we left. (For updates on puma sightings, check out Bosque’s Facebook page.)

Thankfully, the open-air restaurant has plenty of steaming, dark, local coffee available, so even if the call of monkeys, locusts or birds drives you from your mosquito net-cocooned bed early, there’s an eye-opening cup of fragrant java to help you appreciate your surroundings.

If walking the private trails, observing abundant wildlife, lolling by the pool or gazing out over the cobalt Pacific starts to bore, trips to nearby beaches, snorkeling, kayaking and other short excursions are available. To me, though, leaving any spot in this place is difficult. When my friends and I returned to the tranquil grounds of the hotel—rich with birdsong and dappled with blooming flowers—I felt like I was home. As much as I enjoyed the communal dinners and hikes, it’s the terraces, decks and bungalow spaces with their private slices of jungle and views that thrill.

In such a place, the reality that days in the Tropics don’t last longer saddened me. From late afternoon through sunset my friends and I were sprinkled across the terrace, tucked into hammocks or reclined on lounge chairs. We read, sipped wine, puzzled over crosswords or simply gazed out over the Pacific, into the thick jungle or at the infinite sky. As sunset approached, everyone’s attention shifted to the horizon and the spectacle of a colorful blaze illuminating the horizon while the world around us gradually fell silent. The jungle—a cacophony of locust buzzes, birdcalls and monkey howls—lapsed into deep stillness as the light faded from the sky. The sky turned black and was thronged with stars while the ocean crashed below.

Sure, there could have been pumas about, but I could’ve cared less. They’d like you to think that it’s the pumas that make Bosque del Cabo unique, but that’s not it at all. Awaking to the sounds of monkeys, the crash of the ocean, the call of a macaw or the scent of the rain forest, I realized that there’s much more to this place than some rare felines.

But you need to experience it to understand.

Details:

Bosque del Cabo can be reached via small plane commercial service (about a 45 minute flight) from San José to Puerto Jimenez. The lodge can also be reached via rough roads.

A few categories of private bungalows and houses can be rented, most with ocean views. Prices per person range from around $150 per day (including meals) to around $250, depending on accommodation type and season.

The excellent restaurant is the best option for guests. Meal packages are typically included as part of the rate, though guests staying in houses can opt out.

The Monadnock: Architecture Meets Atmosphere

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Mon, 08 Apr 2013 03:07:00 +0000

Preoccupied with the future, we Chicagoans don’t spend much time fawning over our past. After all, what other city would raze architectural gems by American icons such as LouisSullivan and Daniel Burnham? Yes, we’ve torn down probably half of our architectural legacy, but we’ve made some notable exceptions.

One of my favorites is Burnham and Root’s Monadnock Building, a hulking, solid masterpiece that recalls an era when the height of structures was restricted by the weight its loadbearing walls could handle. The building is associated with many firsts, but what I like best are its look and feel—outside and inside—and the handful of independent, local shops that line its dimly lit lobby.

In addition to having brick walls as thick as those of a medieval castle, the Monadnock offers a rare glimpse of an office building circa 1893—the year of its construction. Mosaic tile floors, iron staircases and gleaming woodwork mark the interior, making it unique and rich with atmosphere. Stepping into the shadowy hallways of the building is like stepping back in time. Retro light fixtures flicker, offering yellowy, other-worldly light by which you can view generous amounts of marble décor, mosaic tile floors, and dramatic stairways that rise into warrens of offices inhabited by small businesses, attorneys, not-for-profits and accountants. The building’s dimly and naturally lit passages are movie set perfect.

The main floor stores offer a variety of Old School products and services, including bespoke, locally-made hats at Optimo, cigars, flowers, shoe shine and repair, custom men’s suits, women’s clothier Floradora, a restaurant and a suitably dark bar with a popcorn machine. There are no chains here, unless you count Intelligentsia, a refined local coffee outfit that churns out award winning coffees and world champion baristas.

When German Chancellor Helmut Kohl visited the city a few decades ago, he was shown all of our famous architectural towers—the Wrigley, Tribune, Hancock, Sears and Marina City. But it was the Monadnock that impressed him the most. To him—and to me—the Monadnock is everything an earlier Chicago skyscraper should be: brawny, understated, modern, and well-designed.

And the fact that within its thick brick walls you can purchase a hand-crafted hat, sip a tasty cup of coffee and have your shoes shined while reading the newspaper, makes it truly unique and quintessentially Chicago.

Guatemala’s Lomas de Tzununá: Tranquil Inn Boasts Volcano Views

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 09 Mar 2013 00:12:00 +0000

When it comes to hotels, it's tempting to think that there’s not much new under the sun. Chain hotels are everywhere and a Hilton in Chicago looks pretty much like a Hilton in Paris. Or Calcutta. Or Cancun.

At the same time that the large hotel chains appear to be expanding, the number of small, independent hotels also appears to be increasing. While I can’t back up this observation with data, I’ve never seen so many options for small, independently owned lodgings.

One of my favorite small hotels perches on the lip of a collapsed, ancient volcano in Guatemala. Lomas de Tzununá, owned by a friendly Belgian-Argentinian couple, consists of simply-furnished, modestly-priced cabins that boast million dollar views of Lake Atitlán and distant volcanoes.

Getting to Lomas takes a bit of doing (which is probably why it hasn’t been bought out by Radisson or Marriott.) First there’s the two and a half hour drive via shuttle or private taxi from Antigua or Guatemala City, a 30 minute ride on one of the rustic boats that serve as ferries on Lake Atitlán, and finally—and most significantly—a climb up a steep set of stairs (350, to be precise) carved into the side of the collapsed crater.

Moments after the boat drops you and your luggage at the hotel’s sleepy dock, porters who have raced down the stairs snatch your luggage and fly back up the stairs with it. So your sole, but not insignificant task is to drag your own body up the 350 steps. No escalator, elevator, or litter, but once you’ve made it to the top you’ve earned (at least) one of the hotel’s tasty fresh juices, a beer, or a cocktail mixed by the owner.

Once you’ve conquered the stairs and begun to attempt to absorb expansive views of the deep blue, mirror-like lake, and volcanoes Toliman, Atitlán, and San Pedro, you might decide to venture no further than the steeply sloping grounds of the hotel.

On some days, staying at the aerie-like hotel is enough for me. Breakfast is served on a terrace with the same stunning views, homemade bread and pastries, fresh squeezed juice and steaming, rich coffee. For someone normally surrounded by the clatter and hurly burly of city living, I revel in the tranquility of the place. Hummingbirds chirp, their wings whirring as they check out bougainvillea and other brightly colored tropical flowers that surround the restaurant terrace. With no cars, roads, or airports nearby, there are no sounds other than the birds and breeze. I might get too hot at the pool, or become sore from sitting too long on the terrace, but I never tire of the view.

Evenings are equally relaxed and charmed. With each passing year there are more lights shining from villages across the lake, but the Atitlán sky remains crammed with stars. And if you’re lucky, you’ll see glowing lava spilling out of distant Volcan Fuego far across the lake. The restaurant has tasty meals, including black bass pulled from the clear waters of the lake and local chicken. On many nights, the Belgian owner plays classical guitar which is the perfect complement to the bright stars, candlelight and stillness.

If the tranquility, views, warm sun and beverages don’t make you feel happily comatose, order a masseuse who will walk a mountain path from a distant village and provide a bargain priced massage in your room.

When your private balcony, the restaurant terrace and the pool seem too small a universe, descend the steep crater-side to the dock, wave for a passing boat and head to a nearby village. One of the nearest is Panajachel which offers restaurants, a tourist market and crowds of gringos. Chichicastenango—with its extensive market and unique hybrid of Catholic-Mayan colonial churches (built atop Mayan temples)—is about an hour away from Panajachel.

Other nearby villages include San Marcos, San Pedro and Santiago, home to Maximon (the bizarre booze and cigarette loving folk saint of Guatemala). The voyage to any of these villages is worth the experience. In addition to views of crystalline skies and the cobalt waters of the lake, you’ll share the boats with Mayans dressed in elaborately patterned, handcrafted clothing. A favorite, anachronistic experience is seeing a traditionally attired Mayan with a basket of chickens headed home from the market while chatting on her cell phone. (For more insights into nearby villages, check out the advice of an acquaintance here.)

The views, culture and scenery at Lake Atitlán rival that of North Americans’ favorite winter destinations of Florida, Arizona and California. But Atitlán is less expensive and its tropical highland weather is reliably warm and comfortable.

Sure, it takes a bit of doing to get to Lomas, but once there you’ll find a hotel that’s off the grid and truly unique. You won’t get frequent guest points, but who needs them when you’ve got that million dollar view?

Charlie Trotter’s: Marketing Misfire?

noreply@blogger.com (Alan J. Shannon) — Sat, 01 Dec 2012 21:42:00 +0000

History was made in Chicago just a short time ago. Sure, there was that election and all, but I’m thinking less politically and more restaurant related.

After nearly 25 years, Charlie Trotter's, the restaurant responsible for establishing Chicago as a fine dining destination, closed. At the beginning of the year, Chef Trotter announced seemingly on a whim that he would be closing his landmark, eponymous restaurant.

A month or two later, I heard him on WBEZ (Chicago’s NPR affiliate). During his interview, he explained that he wanted to close his restaurant to pursue an advanced degree in philosophy.

But he also told stories about people from the neighborhood suddenly coming by now that they heard he was closing. And he talked about how so many Chicagoans who had never visited the renowned restaurant were now scrambling to make reservations. Where had they been the past few years, he seemed to be asking? And why hadn’t they come in sooner?

And when I visited the restaurant with three friends and talked to chef myself a month later, I got the same impression. Had we visited the restaurant before, he asked the four of us? Two of us had, two had not. Focusing on the two that hadn’t, he asked why they hadn’t come previously. As for the two of us who’d been, he wondered why we hadn’t eaten there more often.

The chef’s kind but insistent questioning and his comments during his radio interview reminded me of the celebrated Chicago chefs who had passed through his kitchen, from wunderkind Grant Achatz to Graham Elliot. These chefs, of course, enjoy hype, packed dining rooms, and plenty of press. And I wondered, did Trotter feel left behind? Had business dropped off, or did he merely miss being the most celebrated Chicago chef?

As we ate mere feet from him at the kitchen table, he reminded us that he was the chef who had created the concept of the kitchen table (as well as the idea that patrons should pay more for the privilege of being tucked into a corner of an action-packed restaurant kitchen.) And he introduced Americans to degustation and seasonal menus. Undoubtedly, he contributed more than the equivalent of a paltry appetizer to the American dining scene.

But was his demise unavoidable, as the New York Times suggested? Had he truly been left behind?

Sure, Homaro Cantu and Achatz had built and expanded on their teacher’s precepts and philosophy, attracting the attention of the media and the adulation of foodies in the process. But just because his students had moved beyond him, was it inevitable that he close his doors?

I believe it could have gone differently.

In France, senior chefs are often treated like cultural treasures. And closer to home, Alice Waters has certainly yielded little ground to the thousands of chefs and restaurants across California, and the States, that follow her farm to table and seasonal approaches.

So why did Trotter relinquish his undisputed position as father to Chicago’s contemporary dining scene? Perhaps he really did want to pursue another career. But based on some of his comments, I wonder if he was disappointed to no longer be considered the wunderkind of the Second City. Or was it simply that the restaurant was no longer filling its tables?

It’s this last question that leads me to suggest that the restaurant’s closing is the hallmark of a missed marketing opportunity. The restaurant could have been billed as a classic, as the place where Chicago’s renowned chefs cut their teeth. Tourists and foodies could have been appealed to. Sure, visit Alinea or Graham Elliot while you’re in town, he could have suggested, but don’t miss the chef and restaurant that launched them both, Charlie Trotter.

Given Trotter’s reputation for possessing a healthy ego, it’s surprising that he or his team never attempted this approach. Or maybe he didn’t want to have to try too hard to persuade diners to visit his restaurant and devour his perfect creations. Or, maybe he just wants to study philosophy.

But I’m not so certain.