We far prefer smaller, more personal hotels to chains, but on occasion we find ourselves pondering whether some owners ever stay in other hotels and then compare their stay to the experience guests might have in their own hotels. […]
Jo will be gutted when I tell her Benedict Allen almost chose La Gomera as a place to lay his dusty, old wide-brimmed hat for a while. She’ll be furious when I tell her why. […]
Where they see squalor and a depressed urban landscape in some raggedy streets and obscure alleys, I see a raw, gritty, honest beauty – a down to earth yin to the yang of the city’s grand architecture. This Jekyll and Hyde character partly makes Lisbon the compelling city it is. […]
Driving through an endless savanna where mounds rather than hills rolled lazily toward infinity, a travel article I’d read in The Guardian a couple of years ago popped into my head. It was called ‘A foodie tour of Portugal’s Alentejo’ and claimed that Portugal’s largest region was being touted as the new Tuscany. […]
Within about thirty minutes I declare I don’t like Florence; too many tour groups clogging the streets, and the restaurants seem grabby; mediocre-looking places charging way too much for uninspiring food. […]
Tables, chairs and parasols line narrow streets and fill small piazzas, their occupants enjoying fat-crusted pizzas whose slices reluctantly pull apart in a cat’s cradle of melted cheese, and plates of pasta topped with rich sauce and drizzled in aromatic olive oil. […]
“What the hell are those people doing?”
It’s a phrase I utter in best Victor Meldrew fashion numerous times between checking in and arriving at the destination, except it’s usually not ‘hell’ I use. […]
The first time we encountered a couvert was in Porto when it a waiter brought a tray of small dishes to our table. We weren’t sure if they were a complimentary amuse-bouche or we’d have to pay. […]
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