Travelshot: Venice

A short walk on Gozo

About 6 hours hiking, from my B&B in Xaghra to the coast by Fort Chambray by way of Xewkija, then along the coast to Mgarr ix-Xini and then Sannat. (It probably shouldn't have taken that long, but I did miss a turning around Mgarr and had to take a long detour to get back on track).

I encountered one other group the hikers the entire route along the coast (3 elderly, friendly Germans). The rest of the time, I was splendidly alone. 

Just me. And views like this:

Sometimes, people ask me why I go on walking holidays. Why I lace up my boots and go out for a hike when I could by lazing on a beach with a cocktail....

Some people are silly, aren't they?

Vivacious Valletta

Earlier this (never-ending, soaking wet) winter, I spent 10 days in Malta. The island (and it's sister island, Gozo) are perfect for anyone looking for ancient history, a warm sea to swim in, and friendly local cats. Here are a few photos, shimmering in the afternoon sunlight.

Valletta overlooking Marsamxett Harbour

The view from the Upper Barrakka Gardens. If you don't fancy the steep walk down
all those winding streets to the harbourfront, there's a new lift.

Your friendly, neighbourhood cat

Valletta Waterfront

Senglea (across the Grand Harbour) at night

Travelshot: Blue Mosque, Istanbul

Travelshot: Lucerne, Switzerland

Travelshot: Mont Saint-Michel

A Glutton's Guide to Berlin's Christmas Markets

Polite but clearly bored with the crowds and noise of the market, the Frau hands me a novelty mug filled with steaming wine.

The florid red cup is shaped like a Christmas stocking. A thick sprig of ceramic mistletoe forms the chunky handle. It's hideous. But the hot wine inside is warming (in more ways than one – it's stronger than I expect) and the snow flakes are continuing to fall: I need all the help I can get to stay warm this afternoon.

Charlottenburg Palace's Christmas market is one of the best known in Berlin. Set in the front of the summer palace of Sophia Charlotte of Hanover, the market features an eclectic mix of fancy gifts and rustic snacks.  Shining pop-up shops selling luxury leather bags or hand-crafted silver jewellery sit side by side with the simple wooden stalls of the sausage sellers. The air is infused with garlic and onion, coffee and sugar.

The market is not a place for dieters. There's a man selling hot candied nuts; you can smell his tempting wares long before you see him. Then follow your nose to a steaming vat of garlic-drenched mushrooms, slippery and glossy with melted butter. Of course I have to try some: vegetables are supposed to be good for you, aren't they? Nearby, every imaginable fruit is available skewered and covered in chocolate or a bright crimson candy coating: apples, cherries, apricots... a glutton's version of your five a day.

I hold out as long as I can (a feat of Herculean will power), but I'm finally seduced by a stall devoted to roast pork.

My flat-bread comes stuffed with hot and dripping slices of roast meat, piles of tangy sauerkraut, and smothered in thick sour cream. Bigger than my head, I need both hands to hold it. A Chinese tourist, camera slung round his neck, gazes longingly at my sandwich. I grin, and point him in the direction of the right stall. We don't speak. We don't need to. Greed is a universal language.

So full I'm not so much walking as waddling, I wander through the crowds of the market, sipping my hot wine, brushing snowflakes off my lashes, and stamping my frozen feet to keep the circulation going. You can tell the Berliners from the tourists. The locals are the ones with thick gloves and waterproof boots. The tourists are the ones in inadequate shoes, fluttering about trying to stay warm. Loudspeakers play old-fashioned carols and cheery jingles; later a choir will sing. Behind all this activity, the baroque dome of the palace is lit by a succession of coloured lights: pink, green, blue.

I long to linger and listen to the music, but I'm far too cold to stop moving. Heading back on foot towards the department stores and restaurants of City West, I pass a series of Christmas installations. A twelve foot high Santa Claus figurine, covered in red mini lights, stands on a traffic island in the middle of Kurfurstendamm, the busy shopping street better known as Kudamm. A series of sparkling snowmen nestle between a chain clothing shop and a boutique hotel. The snowmen wear blue taps hats and pink noses. Groups of teenagers with mobile phones snap photos of each other posing in front of the lights.

Finally, near the crowded temple to consumerism that is the KaDeWe department store, I give in and buy a pair of fleece-lined winter boots.

I ask the clerk to remove the tags, so I can wear them out of the shop. She gives me a look that says “tourist” and I grin. Full of hot wine and garlic-soaked mushrooms, with warm feet I can conquer the world (or at least the next Christmas market).

Luckily, in Berlin that's never very far away.

Berlin zoo

Do you remember when throwing grass clippings in the air made you this happy?

Leopard close-up, heavily photoshopped

I think he's looking at me

Taveta Golden Weaver

Orangutan eating a carrot

Winter in Berlin

Berlin in winter is not for the faint-hearted.

Expect below-freezing temperatures. Expect the hotel maid to constantly leave your window open, so you're always going back to a cold room. Expect the hot wine you drink at the Christmas markets to be stronger than you realise (hic!).

Snowstorms: atmospheric but hard on the camera

Berlin is probably best known as a party destination, and a summer one. But the winter months have their own charm.

The streets are festooned with lights and oversized decorations. There are hot sausages and chocolate-covered apples to ward off the chill, cosy cafes where you can while away the evenings with giant cups of hot chocolate and slabs of apple cake. Snowy parks in which you can walk off some of the indulgences.


Berlin street scene, winter


The museums of Berlin are also outstanding – you can visit the temple of Pergammon or the Ishtar gate at one museum, them traipse down the street for a superb collection of 19th century painting.

Costs are reasonable in Berlin, too. You can find a perfectly nice ensuite room for less than 40 euros a night, and eating and drinking are very cheap. I recommend basing yourself in the residential streets of City West – it's close enough to everything to be practical, but far enough from the tourist centre and the nightlife districts to be quiet. The neighbourhood also hosts a wide variety of good, untouristy places to eat and drink.

Berlin in winter... pack your mittens and go!



Musical tree



The lifeblood of Madrid

The tiny, scowling waitress in the starched white apron plunks the chipped cup and saucer down in front of me.

Show some reverence, I think. This isn't just any beverage.

Why is it the most divine hot chocolate is always served by angry waiters? Is there some law of balance in the Universe, that says you can't have two lovely things in one sitting? Delicious, thick and dark chocolate... and a cranky waitress. A stunning sunset over a deserted beach... and so much sand in your swimmers that you want to crawl right out of your scratchy skin. A tub of Ben and Jerry's peanut butter ice cream... and a uncomfortable interview with your bathroom scales.

Life gives and life takes away.

Madrid is a deservedly-popular short break destination. It's lovely to look at (grand boulevards lined with belle epoque architecture, ornate fountains, and monuments). There are world-famous art museums to keep you amused during the day, and thriving night-life to keep you busy after dark. There are plenty of serious and cultured reasons to plan a visit to Madrid. But for me, if I'm honest? Forget about all of that – I'm only here for the chocolate.

Hot chocolate is part of the lifeblood of Madrid. It's available everywhere, any time of the day or night. The petite older ladies who lunch, in their tailored suits and their lapdogs - they have hot chocolate in their veins. The over-tired children, hocked up on too much sugar and too little sleep - molten cocoa courses through their little bodies (sorry, that analogy sounded less gross in my head....)

I'll stop talking now.

Anyway, what I mean to say is that the hot chocolate in Madrid was fantastic. I'm planning a full article about it, rather than the brief abstract which begins this post. I'll add the full text here when practical to do so (when it's either published or roundly rejected).

Madrid

Gratuitous tapas shot

Just back from Madrid....