• candle-making at bürkliplatz

    November 22nd, 2017

    As a child I was always getting into trouble playing with candles. My name was regularly cursed after several tablecloths ended up coated with thick gobs of hardened wax. What fun it was to dip my fingertips into the melted goo and feel it harden into a seal. I couldn’t resist. If only I’d had a chance to make candles instead of mess them up at the dinner table I might be a different person today. Or not. Anyway, right now, underneath a tent enfolding the music pavilion at Bürkliplatz there is beeswax candle-making, a meditative pursuit where kids can put their little mitts to good use making candles rather than trashing them. For a reformed candle-vandal such as myself this is great development. Perhaps I can even repay my debt to society by helping my daughter to light the way with these all natural mini crafts. It’s also a great way to make gifts and keep your kids preoccupied with a time-consuming but calming pursuit which they can take pride in. The staff on hand are helpful and will assist you in the finishing touches required to make the handiwork shine. The candles are weighed to determined the price, so practicing your candle-making a bit on some smaller scale attempts can be wise before you choose to create your deluxe masterpiece.

    For more information you can visit the city website here. Sunday afternoon was somewhat crowded but a nevertheless pleasant experience. Apparently this is a yearly tradition since 1969 and runs daily now from 10 AM to 8 PM this year until December 22. It’s one way to light up the end of the year.

  • sukkulenten sammlung – a zürich winter hotspot

    November 14th, 2017

    In recent years succulents and cacti seem to have become resurgent in their popularity. Perhaps you even have some of your own. Before we moved we had to redistribute our modest collection that soaked up the sun and spilled over our windowsills in Istanbul. I remember loving them as a kid, and to this day still find their shapes and patterns hypnotic. The other day when I was craving some heat, I decided to drop into the Sukkulenten-Sammlung at Mythenquai in Zurich. Divided into geographic-specific arrangements the diverse selection is really satisfying. Also the warmer, drier, oxygen-replete air is a boon too. If you want to commence your own collection there’s even a self-service table with the right soil and some junior succulents and cacti to take home. It might take you a while to rival their heights, but there’s no time like the present to get started.

    If you’re thinking of warming yourself up or getting inspiration for some home gardening you should definitely visit and appreciate the natural beauty. There are plenty of places to sit and enjoy the quiet too. Open seven days a week from 09:00 – 16.30, admittance is free, which is something you can really appreciate in a pricey city like Zurich. So who knows? Maybe I’ll see you there?

     


  • ticino: switzerland’s mediterranean

    November 9th, 2017

    Hailing from a country as vast and underpopulated as Canada, the idea of escaping the dominant cultures surrounding you in a significant way without boarding an aircraft once seemed a serious undertaking. Massive expanses of incredible nature surround you, making the absence of human culture the best option to escape your daily reality. Living in Zurich, you can hop on a train and witness dramatic changes in both landscape and culture in the time it takes for some people to commute home in a big city. Which is why I recently caught the train to Ticino canton. Just over two hours from the main Bahnof, Ticino canton is hailed as Switzerland’s Mediterranean. Given the lack of seaside, it’s most likely the fact that the primary language here is Italian, which in and of itself delivers a refreshing jolt of energy. Italian, when it smacks me upside the head, still feels like the kiss of a beautifully deranged, yet greatly inspired, angel.

    My first experience of Ticino was many years ago when staying in Cannobio on Lago Maggiore and stealing across the border to take in the Swiss side, where some of the Italian residents I was acquainted with benefited from the superior wages and benefits that Switzerland accords. This lead me to choose to stay in Locarno given it sharing the same lake. While I was mostly in and greatly enjoyed Locarno, my next foray into the “Swiss Mediterranean” will probably see me staying in Lugano, or crossing the river into Ascona. Don’t get me wrong. Locarno and Orselina (just a funicular ride up the hill from Locarno) where I stayed, are well worth the time, full of grottoes, side streets and other possibilities such as peaceful morning jaunts along the river Maggia which washes down from the encircling slopes into Lago Maggiore, which I hope to retread. But somehow, Lugano, by virtue of being a bigger centre, has that slightly more grandiose Mediterranean vibe, which I now miss from that highly improbable, very crazy reality called Istanbul. Also, since I only took a day in Lugano, there was less time for me to form a full impression. Truth is I would relish the opportunity to explore both in much greater detail. And given the relative ease with which to travel to either by train from Zurich, that seems a very likely prospect.

    If you follow this blog at all, you know I love a good boat trip. Especially those that serve adult refreshments. So with only a day to experience Lugano, I chose to hop on the first boat I could to take in the lake with which it shares a name. Lake Lugano doesn’t disappoint for scenery — with the exception of the somewhat bizarre Italian enclave of Campione D’Italia and its prominently placed casino, which I won’t share here or linger upon any longer.

    Along the route I chose to hop off at Gandria but am now longing to experience Morcote (a glimpse of which I afford you in the photo immediately above), which has apparently been voted Most Beautiful Village in Switzerland, an impressive feat considering this small country’s prodigious number of villages with storybook-worthy scenery. Gandria (all photos below this paragraph)  where I stopped for lunch, however, has some very worthy vistas. I don’t use guidebooks or over-research things on my smart phone, but rather see what feels right in the moment. Chance and curiosity are almost always better guides, and I’d rather see what other people think after I have experienced a place for myself. So, after walking not far and heeding my gut instinct I came across Locanda Gandriese which looked enticing after a cursory glance. It turns out it’s a highly recommended place. I enjoyed one of the local specialties, a Porcini ragout with polenta, but was not particularly inspired by the minestrone soup which preceded it. One of the disadvantages of travelling solo is that I tend to sample less food and go for what seems reliable rather than exciting as food is best shared with good company. Also food is not especially cheap in Switzerland so dining out is also less appealing unless you plan to linger and savour the occasion with some worthy company. So I would like to go back and see what they and the rest of Lugano have to offer, including a vibrant art scene, which has enlivened in recent years as the city diversified its appeal.

    Now, back to Lago Maggiore. The walk south, along the lake from Locarno, and up and along the river Maggia, while not necessarily efficient, provides a healthy but low impact stroll which leads you to Ascona (pictured below) a town that brings you up close and personal with Lago Maggiore. With its plane-tree-lined waterfront, glass like stillness and colourful facades, it’s easy to zone out for several hours with a measure or two of the regionally produced merlot. Here’s another suggestion: don’t opt for pizza. There’s nothing wrong with the pizzas in Ascona or in Ticino in general, which are thin crust and perfectly good and offered on just about every corner. It’s simply that they’re not prepared with the kind of gusto you’d probably get in a place like Napoli. Instead ask what the local specialties are, as I get the sense that pizzas are a case of pandering to outsiders’ expectations. Again, this may be my fault for not sufficiently researching first, but I enjoy the pizza at the Bellcafe at the Bellevue Tram station in Zurich as much, if not more than, anything I sampled in Ticino.

    Unfortunately, I was only given a few days to amble about Ticino, but it left me wanting to experience more of its vibrant landscape, abundant sunshine, and hillside wonders. Ticino is both distinctly different from the rest of Switzerland and Italy which lays just across the border, making it somewhere worthy of repeat attention.


    Which is why I say: Grazie mille, Ticino!

  • hydra … our summer’s first and last port of call

    November 1st, 2017

    As stated before, I love islands. At their best they are little capsules of bliss. On an island you accept the fact that there is a disconnection from all that mainland hustle and bustle. You’re cut off. Which is a pleasure …  and while I am happy that there are more far islands left in this grand world to discover, my current favourite is Hydra. I am not alone. Far more distinguished company have resided or worked here – Leonard Cohen, Jurgen Teller, Sofia Loren among others. We had a celebrity sighting with a Game Of Thrones star. I’ve been twice and predict a return at the next earliest date.

    Although the amphitheatre arrangement style of the architecture of the port may be overshadowed by Santorini’s iconic and relentlessly photographed scene, Hydra doesn’t lack for charm. Strict codes preserve it from crass developments and ugly architecture. This is, for my money, exactly what I hope for on a Greek island. The fact that the port-side town lacks motor vehicles or even bicycles is a huge plus. Want to lug your bag up the hill, you have two options: shoulder the burden or hire a mule who line up, truculently, each morning to assist in the unloading of various goods at the port. They might not be the happiest islanders but their toils are greatly appreciated by a snap-happy generation of instagrammers as well as seven-year-olds who delight in being given a ride to the hotel along with overstuffed suitcases which don’t easily roll along on cobblestone streets.

    Given its proximity to Athens, (1.5 hours on the Flying Dolphin, 2.5 by Flying Cat) it’s a big favourite for casual weekenders as well as the elite traveller. The full spectrum of hospitality is available. We sampled two distinctly different properties. The rather grandiosely titled, Hydrea Exclusive Hospitality (at which the first four photos of this post were taken), located on the western edge of the harbour, is a magnificent perch, everything a romance seeker could expect style-wise from a design hotel. We also stayed at Miranda, an old captain’s mansion, which has its own old-world charm and much less “exclusive” prices, and where our welcome included another ubiquitous four-legged islander: a white and ginger street cat, we very creatively dubbed, Ginger. Hydra probably has the friendliest and most well cared for population of cats we have encountered so far, also much to the delight of the seven-year-old set.

    In terms of quality food and drink, you don’t have to wander far. Good, honest fare abounds. Side streets, in particular, offer a host of family owned and operated options. Eat whatever is featured on the daily menu. Fresh produce and other close-to-source ingredients make such dishes sing. Also sweet, sun-kissed tomato sauce with a hint of cloves make dishes such as rooster in sauce, or meat balls and sauce a daily craving. A side of fresh cut potatoes never hurts either.

    The most difficult question of the day is where to dip ourselves into the Aegean. There are fantastic places arrayed cliff-side to drink, take in the sun and plunge into Poseidon’s blessed pool. Yet some mornings the wind picks up and forebodes the need for a sheltered cove, in which case there are also beaches, usually requiring a 20-30 minute stroll, or a shuttle boat – if you don’t feel the need to exert yourself. When we wanted a beach our preferred choice was the Four Seasons (not the chain), which also comes highly recommended as a boutique hotel. It’s about 45 minutes on foot but the westerly walk features plenty of scenic places to stop and enjoy a refreshment or two. If speed is of the essence, there’s a regular shuttle boat every 30 minutes. While we can’t attest to the suites — having not stayed there — the food and the cheerful staff constantly deliver. Personally, I prefer to remain closer to the harbour, and so, from 10:00 AM most mornings, our favourite was the cliff-side, Spilia (pictured two frames above), where the super-friendly and talented bartender-barista, basketball aficionado Aggelos (pictured immediately above), hosted us with such natural good grace we almost felt like locals.

    As the sun moves westward, we almost always find ourselves at Hydronetta (shots 1, 3, 4 , 5 below) which means mermaid, for aperitifs. Just around the point from Spilia, the sunsets are a thing of legend. And despite some occasionally melodramatic playlists, we never felt the need to break with tradition. The sheltered cove was perfect for a dip on all but one evening where only yours truly felt comfortable venturing for a swim.

    After nightfall and a good dinner at somewhere like Kryfo Limani (Secret Port) or Pardosiako (Traditional) there’s always time for a digestif or two at Amalour, or you can head back to the port and enjoy a perennial favourite, Pirate Bar. But the music is really good at Amalour (immediately below) so don’t rush. In terms of atmosphere, the western portside Papagalos (Parrot), right below Hydrea E.H., is also good place to zone out next the gently bobbing yachts.

    While the season is now over for most of our preferred haunts, we’ll be kept warm with memories of a summer bookended by Hydra’s eternal magic. Thank Poseidon for the welcome tide that brings you ashore on Hydra. We now look forward to our return.

  • the new mobile office: lake zürich

    October 2nd, 2017

    Who doesn’t like a workspace with an inspiring view? Yet even the nicest corner suite is essentially the same scene, day-in, day-out. No matter how well appointed your office, it’s hard to change things up. My latest workspace is constantly changing. Thanks to Zürichsee, any day I need to sit down and get fired up,  keep my mind moving and not get stuck, I hop on one of their boats. Not only are they spotlessly maintained, the views are incredible. You can get fresh air any time you need it, and you never need to go hungry or thirsty either. Better yet, you’re not confined to the same office. It’s easier to keep the mind floating along when the body travels with it. You can even choose from a classic steamboat, or a more sleek modern contemporary design, the boat schedule is here. You can go first class or economy. Yet the same friendly service is on either deck.

    Once home after a gruelling day of contemplating such glorious scenery, you can also have the satisfaction to ask: what was the scene like at the office today, dear?

  • paradise street

    July 17th, 2017

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    In the pauses, a trill. Birdsong? A sound almost forgotten. The bus, the trams, always on time, and clean, but sometimes a meandering path home in late afternoon leads to new discoveries. There’s no hurry. A detour here and there makes life more interesting. Houses on hills. A church with a drinking fountain. Here and there are pastures, a scattering of chickens, even a cow idle on the slopes. Bees buzzing away in wildflowers. Only five minutes before, the high street. Where is this place? It is as if someone has wiped everything, even the pavements, clean. A sign that reads, Paradise Street. Crazy… it might just be right. In any case, it’s the road that leads home.

  • last look

    June 29th, 2017

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    Our story ends here. It once seemed your luminous gaze would never end, and I could have gleefully burned the rest of my days in its glare. But now, a last glimpse, over the shoulder, down the resounding hall. The marble steps a spiral. Through a window, the darkening street below stretches long in late afternoon shadow.

    Little more than an awestruck boy when we met, and you, brazen and carefree, but not young. I wish I could say I changed you. That I lit you up. You did me. My mistake to think you were something real, tangible, something I could always return to, a house or a refuge. You are not so much physical reality as an idea that alters all realities. There are no others such as you. There will be no others such as you.

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    The grit of you stays under my fingernails, your scent still fresh in my nostrils. The sun through the window, the drape of your hair. Still with me. Men fight in the street below. I pause on the stair. Your new lover’s footsteps ascend the staircase. I pass him often but always escape his notice. The tyrant, the bully. The two of you. A pair. I injure myself with the thought of it: your welcome, how you enfold him in your arms. He will drive you from your family and still you will keep him. I know this, but won’t say it, since I lacked the courage when it might have made a difference. He will offer cheap jewels and makeovers, but you will never be the same no matter how lavishly, how expensively he adorns you. He will pulverise your spirit, distance you from your admirers, grind the last facets of your truth to dust.

    The drive to the airport. Light flashes through the plane trees. Memory: the boulevard, the high walls. Once it was dawn and the taxi whipped us down your empty streets. Only the two of us. And now I don’t miss your voice so much as the pause. That look of yours that started it all. The subsequent sticky days we slept away or laboured. Evenings, your breath cool on my neck.

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    When I return neither of us will be quite the same. Might we be friends? Perhaps you’ll allow me to retrieve certain fragments left in the wake of my hasty departure … until then mutual friends and loved ones pass along news of you.

    A light that withers. Shadows that chill. Goodbye, Istanbul.

    Posted in Places | | 5 Comments
  • glasgow’s west end

    January 18th, 2017

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    It always seems that wherever I travel there’s a quality of light unique to that place. Glasgow is no different. Though this time of year the days are quite short and the skies a cobalt grey, there’s a few moments every day where the light seems to escape the barrier of cloud and washes the stones of the tenements and architecture in an otherworldly glow. There’s a luminous quality to Glasgow’s denizens too, an antidote to the short days, a warmth and readiness to engage in a quick discussion about almost anything. Although my visit was brief and the weather mostly inhospitable, in the West End you can escape the rain and the cold into a lively cafe, the air thick with voices and lively people, good food and hospitality. Special mention goes to two places on the Crow Road in which I could have happily lost several more hours: Kothel, a coffee shop of sharply tailored gents serving up some great platters of food and freshly baked goods, and The Wee Lochan, where the service is prompt and the food imaginative and delicious without veering into silliness. For those in need of a free oxygen boost there’s also the warm welcome of the botanical gardens, where one can breathe deep of the fresh air and contemplate the important things in life, such as family, health and the beauty of a day. Thank you, Glasgow. I can hardly wait until I get another dose of your signature glow. Having had another little taste, I hunger for a feast.

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  • daytime at union pacific …

    October 18th, 2016

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    Up Tables

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    Coffee supplies

    Ham n Cheese

    Up lounge

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    Lunch Menu (October)ricerolls1

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    Food board

    It was a long, long summer, as you know. The good news is, that, despite the stresses and strains, life is again returning to the city. It’s autumn and Istanbul is like that kid in the schoolyard that won’t submit to the bully. Sure it’s taken some hits. But it keeps on picking itself up. That attitude inspires us at Union Pacific. Our sign is properly mounted and lit up. We have a fantastic team led by the inimitable Chris James Maxwell, formerly of Cochine, who are plating up a great mix of flavours and experiences from the vast and varied shores of the Pacific. We have a fierce baker in-house whose skills with sweet or savoury are becoming legend. We have coffee from some of Istanbul’s artisan roasters. We have new items coming to the menu weekly (check up above). But most of all, what do we have? A great time.

    Like to travel? You don’t have to go far to begin the journey. Step on in. We’ve got places to take you.

    Union Pacific General Store & New World Eatery – Şah Değirmeni Sokak 6A, Şahkulu Mahallesi, Tünel, Beyoğlu,
    +90 212 252 7274.

  • last escape

    October 5th, 2016

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    Innes means ‘island’ in Gaelic. Perhaps it’s little wonder, then, that I find myself drawn to islands. I know of some people who feel trapped on an island, but I feel different. Like I have smuggled myself to a new reality. That’s even more true with Burgazada. Despite being within the jurisdiction of the Istanbul megacity in which we live, it’s something of a strange wrinkle in time and space. Plonked in the Marmara between Kınalıada and Heybeliada, Burgaz is nowhere nearly as touristic as its big brother, Büyükada. With no traffic noise other than the clop of hoofs and the clang of the coachman’s bells, the occasional whirr of electric scooters that the locals sometimes use, Burgaz is well removed from the city’s infernal traffic chaos. It’s quite amazing what removing automobiles does for stress levels.

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    Mornings are a real boon. An uphill walk from the harbour side of the island, dawn light warm on your back, lungs filling with a cool draught of pine-scrubbed air, western vistas tugging the mind towards the kind of calm with which it’s good to begin every day. You’ll meet few people early in the morning. A nod here. A softly uttered greeting elsewhere. There is space. Ocasionally you might encounter an untethered horse nosing around in the grass and weeds roadside. The watchful gaze of a crow. You’re not exactly alone, just temporarily untroubled. Back down in the harbour, an early morning coffee at Burgaz Cafe, or a tea at the patisserie, watching a handful of people hasten to the ferry or seabus is a gentle reminder to you that the fuming city is still there, and how fortunate you are that you don’t have to hustle, at least for today.

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    In fact, with the exception of Sedefadası, Burgaz must be the most overlooked of the Islands. Therein lies its charm. There is just enough to make this a functioning Island, but no more. There are no chain stores. No big brands visible. A couple of good local tavernas, one solid coffee shop and roastery, Four Letter Word. Faintly, in the distance, looms a large sky and the shadowy tones of newly erected skyscrapers on the Anatolian side, the memory of a city still traumatised by the summer’s events. You can forget you’re in Istanbul for a while. Something most, if not all of us, have needed for a while.

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    For the smaller ones among us, there are many simple delights. Swimming at the local beach club. The occasional ice cream. New friends made poolside. A tour around the island on a horse drawn carriage. Screen time diminished. Outdoor fun augmented. The echoes of old school summer bliss still seem to resonate here among the youth. I can only imagine and envy the euphoric days spent here by friends in previous decades when school let out and their families empty their city houses and decamp, refrigerators and all, to Burgaz for the span of a summer.

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    Of course not every day is perfect. There’s a heaviness on the last day. Waiting to cram oneself on the ferry and sail off back to reality, you wonder when, or if, you will return to the same place. Will it remain as untouched and charmed as it is? A place that seems serenely outside the current circumstances that surround us? You hope so. Long live Burgazada.

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