Return to Baku: Azerbaijan
“It doesn’t look like much beneath the wing of the plane. A sand coloured, shrubless land and a low, pale sky, not exactly tourist board porn; if anything it looks like a biblical landscape, Old Testament.”
“It doesn’t look like much beneath the wing of the plane. A sand coloured, shrubless land and a low, pale sky, not exactly tourist board porn; if anything it looks like a biblical landscape, Old Testament.”
Before I visited The Royal Mansour Hotel, I thought I was only really interested in old hotels; venerable properties with a real sense of history and perhaps a little faded grandeur.,,
“I don’t golf. Or is it I don’t play golf? I don’t even know how to describe the fact that I don’t play golf. I don’t putt, I don’t chip, I don’t drive. I don’t even drive cars.”
Harry ventures to Ventnor, wife and toddler in tow, taking in the annual Fringe and Film Festival, late summer swims and traditional tea rooms as he goes…
I arrive at the Guerlain Spa located in Edinburgh’s Waldorf Astoria Caledonian Hotel on a grey, grizzly weekday afternoon. Even the nearby castle looks sad…
I met a traveller from an antique land who said, somewhat to my surprise, ‘Have you been to Shrewsbury?’ To be honest, I’d never really thought about it…
Being a lover of punctuation, The Ampersand Hotel had me at the name. The squiggly ‘and’ sign makes for an aesthetic logo, printed sporadically throughout..
The Grove hotel in Hertfordshire is so vast that I actually discovered faults in my footwear while negotiating its cavernous interior…
Floating starfish-style in the steaming water on a chilly yet cloudless Easter Sunday, I knew I’d made the right decision… Estella trades her childhood bedroom comforts for a more luxurious hometown stay…
Our next port of call, literally, was to be Mykonos. And here was a taste of the infamous island hopping so inclined by itinerants, backpackers and lunatics.
This trip feels like it’s been a long time coming. It was conceived nearly two years ago over dinner at Quo Vadis, when I was told about the Grace hotels on Mykonos and Santorini in the Greek Cyclades.
“Don’t forget,” I called from the bathroom, mid-shave, “this is Paris. We can’t set foot outside the hotel without looking like we’re stepping onto the catwalk.”