Anish Kapoor’s Sky Mirror 1999. I presume the punters paid for it.
The prosperity on show in Monte Carlo is compelling evidence that the house always wins in the end.
It was our first trip to Monaco, an easy way to add another country to the notches on our travelling sticks. Much of the surface area of the principality was covered with temporary seating, in preparation for some kind of automobile race.
We skirted round the scaffolding and sidled into the Monte Carlo Casino, wondering, ‘Are we even allowed in there if we’re not going to lose money?’
Mevrouw T and I have a major advantage over the average punter because we don’t know how to gamble. Blackjack and roulette are mysteries to us and we can’t even work poker machines. We see where the money goes in, but what do you do after that? Continue reading
Many shops may be selling souvenirs or cafe to tourists, but there’s still charm, at least in the non-high season.
It’s hard to avoid making bad puns on this city’s name, and even harder to make them funny in print or out loud.
It was a nice day for wandering with the camera through the nice streets and museums of Nice. Continue reading
Better Homes and Gardens …than ours.
It’s all very well to have money in the bank or, if you’re a Rothschild, to own the bank. But unless you have vision and taste to match your cash, you may blow it all buying something silly, like a string of racehorses or another bank.
Baroness Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild (1864-1934) not only had deep pockets and plenty to fill them, but also a passion for travel and an eye for beauty in nature, art and architecture.
We’ve just visited her little pad on Cap Ferrat on the French Riviera. Continue reading
Sun and cafes – Villefranche-sur-Mer.
You have to love Europe. The weather in Amsterdam is cold, grey, wet and miserable. Mevrouw T has a heavy cold. So all we have to do is wake at 4.15am, struggle out to Schiphol Airport, catch a plane to Nice and an hour and forty minutes later here we are, in the sunny south of France.
It’s a toasty twenty degrees, there are people sitting on the terraces, a few brave souls are stripping off to sunbathe and there are even two people swimming. In the sea. No, not us, but it could have been us.
We’ve organised a week’s apartment swap with Muriel and Jean Louis in Villefranche-sur-Mer, on the French Riviera, the Cote d’Azur. From the sound of it alone, you’d assume only the mega-rich could afford it. This way, we can too. Continue reading
Sexy Vegetables (Groenten) and a happy caravan.
A festival of mobile food? I like the idea very much.
Amsterdam’s Rollende Keukens (Rolling Kitchens) weekend at the Westergasfabriek wasn’t blessed with good weather this year, but plenty of us turned out to sample it anyway.
Now we know what happened to all those VW Bongo vans and the baked bean-shaped caravans that mysteriously disappeared after the 70s – they were turned into mobile food outlets. And very charming they are too. Continue reading
Smart and small – le Debut Restaurant at the Amsterdam Hotelschool.
I’d think carefully before agreeing to have my appendix removed by a trainee surgeon, or letting a rookie dentist dig around in my mouth with sharp instruments.
But offer me a meal at a bargain price and I’m happy to be a guinea pig for apprentice masterchefs and waitpersons.
Hotelschool, The Hague, has just opened a new building for its branch in Amsterdam. Mevrouw T and I signed up to be early customers. Continue reading
Of course there are windmills along the route.
6000 Dutch cyclists, some very expensive road bikes, an awful lot of bananas, boxes of krentenbollen (currant buns), thousands of litres of sports drink, several tonnes of penne bolognaise at the finish and, for us, a little over five hours in the saddle…the 6th annual Classico Boretti ride. Continue reading