Hats off to Panama

Embera Drua Indians, 2 hours from Panama City



Panama City is an eclectic mix of the old and new.  It has some great restaurants and nightclubs.  KLM now fly direct to Panama City from Amsterdam.



The 17th-century Casco Viejo or Casco Antiguo (the old quarter) of Panama City is as ravishing as any colonial cityscape in the Americas - with the same gracious, glorious shades of Old San Juan or Old Havana.   There are numerous old churches, including the Iglesia San José with its gold altar and great museums full of religious art.    The area was made a UNESCO World Heritage Site some ten years ago, and with its maze of streets mixing everything from neo-Moorish to French neoclassical to Art Deco, it has, like Old Havana, spent more than a couple of decades slowly decaying and is today festooned in tropical rot, which lends it a rich atmosphere.  From Lover's Walk, you can see the other side of the coin: the glinting condos and modern glitz of New Panamá City.



Restaurants are thick on the ground and one draws me immediately in: Manolo Caracol.  The owner, Manuel Madueño, a Spaniard, claims that New Yorkers fly down for the weekend just to dine here, and it's not difficult to see why.  They serve the largest octopus I've ever seen, cooked in a vat of red wine floating with old corks.  The interior is a weird and exquisite paraphenalia of religious artwork, a shrine to the Virgin de Guadalupe, burning candles, tormented effigies, a glass case full of corks, huge cooking pots and palms and dayglo pictures of Che Guevara.    The menu is mouthwatering: grilled baby eggplant, seared tuna, baked dorado, spicy mushrooms, shrimp ceviche and giant prawns.



The whole neighbourhood is food-focused: a few doors down is a shop called the Gran Clement Gourmet Ice Creams and Sorbets.  They serve hundreds of flavours of ice cream, made according to the traditional methods of French artisans.  The walls are lined with hundreds of ice cream spoons.



At dawn the following day, I board the historic Panamá Canal Railway that runs to Colon on the Caribbean coast in about 70 minutes, following the canal for much of the way, with views of the vast Lake Gatun.  Once in Colon, I take a minibus some forty minutes along a deserted coast to Portobelo. 



Christopher Columbus discovered the Bay of Portobelo on 2 November 1502.  When Francis Drake died of dysentery in 1596 at sea, he was buried at sea in a lead coffin at Isla Drake.    In 1668, the pirate Captain Morgan captured Portobelo.  Later, in 1739, British buccaneers attacked.  In its heyday, the town was an important trading port for gold coming from South America.  Today, Portobelo is a tiny town with a deep harbour, surrounded by tropical fecundity.  Coming over the hill, I encounter the turreted ruins of Fuerte San Jeronimo, founded in 1664 and constructed of weathered grey coral with 17 ancient, rusting canons.  The fort was declared a World Heritage Site in 1980 and for such a historic site, it is completely deserted.   History is alive here and I can almost feel the presence of the conquistadores' ghosts.     Further on is the San Jeronimo Black Christ church, with black vultures watching from the spire.  Outside, locals sell noni fruit which tastes like camembert, but is good for the skin.  Inside, there is a wooden figurine of the black Christ of Portobelo, cloaked in a purple dress with gold and silver on it.   If people have a health problem, they buy a piece of gold or silver and put it onto the dress of the black Christ, thanking him for what they believe will make them better.  A mother is here with her baby, who has a sprained ankle, and she has sewn silver paper onto the figurine.  She sways silently back and forth, mesmerised, and deep in prayer.



Back in Panamá City, I take a 30 minute flight on a 20-seater plane to Contadora Island, in the aptly-named Pearl Islands, an archipelago of over 200 islands strung out in the shallow, bright green waters of the Pacific. 



Contadora has the atmosphere of a tiny village that time forgot.  The runway is but a tarmac strip with weeds growing in the middle and the circular road is more suited to golf buggies than cars.  Its coastline is laced with swaying palms, remote white sand coves and the faded glamour of several low-key, 1960s-style 'motels' or the delightfully kitsch 1920s Casa Romantica (with bathrooms completely covered in oyster shells).   A perfect island for rest and relaxation.     Lured by the beauty of the island, Christian Dior owns a minimalist, design-led mansion here.  In 1969, actor Richard Burton purchased the island as a birthday present to his wife, Elizabeth Taylor, for $37,000.  During that time, the jet set were arriving in yachts and private jets.  Locals recount tales of men in smoking jackets and ladies wearing ball gowns, demanding caviar and champagne.  Nowadays, wild deer and peacocks roam the island. 



One of the most enjoyable ways to see the archipelago is by boat.  Many of the islands are staggeringly beautiful, either virginal islands cloaked in dense rainforest and ringed by low cliffs and pure white sand, or tiny lips of sand like Bajo Boyarena, only revealed at low tide, but from where you can see twelve other islands.  On one of those islands, Sabuca, locals believe pirate Henry Morgan's treasure lies hidden beneath the church. 



Finally, we sail to Casayeta, home to pearl fishermen.   I meet Mr Aripe Santana, an 81 year old resident who for the past 60 years has been diving for pearls.  The only difference is he dives without oxygen tanks for up to 5 minutes in waters as deep as 15 metres, to collect oyster shells from the ocean floor.  For every 200 oysters he brings up, one will contain a pearl which he can sell for anything from 700 dollars upwards. 



Days later, I must return to the mainland, and from Panamá City, I am on the final leg of the journey - to visit the Embera Drua Indians who live in the Rio Chagres National Park.  I board a narrow boat carved from a tree called a piraqua and the boatsman is wearing a purple skirt, called an ambura, decorated with tiny white shells, with a swath of yellow fabric at the front with silver bracelets.  Despite his herculean strength - he guides the boat effortlessly through fast rapids - he is only 18.  We sail deep into a steamy rainforest to a village of tambos, straw thatched houses raised on poles, where we are given a fish meal and the womenfolk imitate the deer in a dance, and drums and flutes are played.   The women wear the most amazing coloured fabrics wrapped around their waist and legs, dyed lemon, green and pink, with a star or flower shape, and on the upper part, braziers made of small shells, bright yellow and red in a zig zag pattern with orange necklaces. 



The Embera have an altogether different religion - they believe the moon and sun are gods,  they believe everything they can explain and they have a church up the hill that is evangelical.



The whole day is a dazzling, authentic cultural experience.  I am honoured to be their guest.  I had never imagined this quiet, often overlooked Central American nation could offer so many dazzling sights.



FACTBOX



KLM flies from London Heathrow Airport to Panamá City via Amsterdam.  Fares from £548 return (www.klm.com, telephone 08705 074 074).



Pesantez Tours are an absolute must: a well-established, English-speaking tour guide company based in Panamá City can help you plan this holiday and provide transportation and guides.  Visit their website, www.pesantez-tours.com.

You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine in newsagents or read it entirely online www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html





 

Pure physical attraction

Studying a detailed map of Norway's Lofoten Islands, they’re oddly shaped, like vertebrae and deeply-incised by the ocean.  This skeletal string of islets and skerries – made up of tongue-twister names such as Austvågøy, Gimsøy, Vestvågøy, Flakstadøy, Moskenesøy, Vaerøy, Røst and Hinnøy – run for a little over one hundred miles from top to bottom.  They were first populated about 6,000 years ago when Tore Hund, a fearsome Viking warlord ruled the seas in long-ships, fighting the bloody Battle of Stiklestad.



The backbone or spine of the islands is called the Lofotenveggen, or Lofoten Wall.  Sailing up the narrow Trollfjorden, the Lofoten Wall looks lunar-like with spinach-green pinnacles.  The mountains rise to some 3,000 feet and mountaineering, attracting all standards from beginner to expert, is popular throughout the islands.



When you dock, you get hit by a huge smack of sea air - not like carbon-heavy city air, but fresh, clean air, a mixture of sea, salt and mountain vapour.  You could say Northern Norway has some of the best air in the world.



In this stark scenery, the accommodation is all about civilised comfort.  The traditional fisherman’s cottages or rorbu ('ror' meaning fishing boat, and 'bu' to live, or a small dwelling) are painted a beautiful blood-red and raised on stilts, clustering picturesquely around the stony harbour.  They are unbelievably quaint and go someway to show how Norwegian fisherman used to live, yet are presented in high-quality comfort.  The cottages are painted their distinctive colour using an old paint mixed with cod liver oil.  Inside, it’s cosy and warm with fresh flowers and crisp linens and when I draw the curtains, I can see far up into the mountains in the keen, lemony sunlight.   Artists have long been drawn here by the quality of the light and the dramatic relationship between nature and the living conditions of the local inhabitants.  You can see local artist’s work in some of the numerous galleries.



Outside my rorbu in the salty air, anchors and fishing nets lie scattered about the quay.  Cod dries on large wooden racks in the sun. Some of the rorbu have their own rowing boat.  Cod-fishing is an important main-stay on the islands with the season usually starting from March each year.



I have always been drawn to the ends of the earth, whether they be far-flung peninsulas or lone islands, for many reasons: to experience fantastic scenery, to escape urban life, to get away from civilisation, mobile phones and the electronic jingle of arriving email, to breathe fresh air and to get back in touch with yourself and nature.  The Lofotens Islands are magical, a pristine archipelago fringed by bleached white sand, almost fluorescent, green oceans and bearing a timeless quality that has not been sacrificed for tourism. These places are remote, enclosed by the sea, with wild, unpopulated scenery.  They are a magnet for wildlife.  You can take boats out to sea to watch for whales, feed eagles or fish in the seas which churn with migrating cod in the warm waters of the Gulf Stream.  You can see the blue-green glow of the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis) and walk or cycle the island’s lengthy coastline or trek into its labyrinthine depths.   From the end of May to the 14th July each year, it becomes the Land of the Midnight Sun when the sun never sets and you can go out for walks in broad daylight at 2 o’clock in the morning, or sleep the morning away without flinching.



Meal-time is full of extremely difficult choices – selecting from the tempting restaurant menu can leave you unable to make up your mind: is it warm rhubarb soup, lutefisk and smorgasbord with seagulls’ eggs?  Or fried cod tongue, reindeer steak served with cranberry sauce, fishcakes and followed by Trondhjensuppe, a milk soup with raisins, rice, cinnamon and sugar.   With the seas off the islands teaming with all varieties of fish, you can chose from a veritable A to Z menu of fish.  If you’re keen to forget the food you eat at home, the Lofotens serve nothing but Norwegian food on its menus.



Next morning, after dawn rain, the skies clear and are swirling with birds.  It’s a paradise for bird watchers with eider ducks, puffins, oystercatchers and the white-tailed eagle.   When the weather is fine in the Lofotens, excellent walking trails sprawl in virtually every direction, running around the rim of the islands or into the interior through sparse pastureland, or bright-green peatbogs where you can see cloudberries growing wild.   These are orange-coloured, sweet-tasting berries considered to be a local delicacy.  In the past 150 years, they were highly sought after among fishermen and sailors not for their superior taste, but for the fact that they kept for a long time and were a good source of vitamin C, thus effective in preventing scurvy.



There are trails that head out past deserted fishing hamlets.  On the southern islands, the evocatively-named, but deserted fishing station of Hell overlooks the Maelstrom, the waters west of the Lofoten Headland.  These waters were first described, in frenzied terms, by the likes of  Edgar Allan Poe and Jules Verne, and have the strongest tidal current in the world.  The Maelstrom has appeared on historic sea charts accompanied by terrifying illustrations and warnings.   In 1555, the Maelstrom was described as an ocean vortex, devouring hundreds of great ships.  Villagers from Hell described hearing whales bellowing in rage as they swam involuntarily into the Maelstrom.



Nowadays, the Maelstrom has a calmer (and safer) reputation; the locals respect the waters and can take you on an enjoyable guided fishing trip to see this strange tidal phenomenon or spend an afternoon on a whale-watching safari.   Hell was deserted relatively recently in 1950 when villagers dismantled their wooden homes and moved them to Å and Sørvågen.



The 115-foot deep Refsvikhula cave is gigantic, formed like a cathedral, and contains red cave drawings sketched on the walls by cavemen dating three thousand years ago.   In July, the Midnight Sun pours into the mouth of the cave filling it with light and it is thought that this light against the cave drawings was symbolic to Stone Age people who performed rituals in the echoy depths. 



Touring the islands by car or by public transport is easy as the islands are connected by bridges or tunnels.  Stamsund is a particularly pretty port and whilst you’re nearing the southern extremities of the islands, the village of Å is worth a visit, especially the Norwegian Fishing Village Museum. 



Above all, the Lofotens are a place to relax and enjoy the magnificent scenery – seeing the sights, lounging around sunbathing in the summer months, walking in the heights, fishing, exploring the caves or taking brisk, inspirational walks and enjoying the rich cultural heritage in the winter.  That you have to travel virtually to the top of the world to get there is half the pleasure.

You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine in newsagents or read it entirely online www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html

Grand designs

If any country can encapsulate all that looks good into one small space, it is Denmark.  Copenhagen has long been rhapsodised as a city of design gods, with everything they touch, from supermarket trolleys to lightswitches, rubbish bins to yachts, designed not only with beauty but functionality in mind. 



And true to form, I wasn't expecting the style and design Mecca that I found on my 72-hour visit to Denmark. 



There's certainly no better way to begin than with a late afternoon snack at the Royal Café, a downtown establishment owned by the famous Royal Porcelain Factory.



And what a gorgeous, retro-kitsch treat the café is: a pink interior of silver chandeliers, red couches and funny little tables that look like they've been borrowed from Alice in Wonderland, boxes of Kusmi tea, a tray containing orange and lime-green liquorice, bright yellow toy dolls with green hair, traditionally-sewn fabrics, a mannequin with no hair, a wall painted with bucolic scenes, and a washing line in full public view hung lasciviously with lady's corsets and underwear (as the menu says "besides food and drink, almost everything in the Royal Café is for sale"). 



The super-civilised café has given birth to a new culinary phenomenon: Smushi - traditional Danish smørrebrød with a contemporary sushi twist. The idea was created by "gastronaut" Rud Christiansen, and there are choices ranging from cheese with blackcurrant jelly, smoked salmon, summersalad or egg shrimp and horseradish.  You'll want to fiddle with all the odd gifts whilst waiting for your order but be sure to leave room for the huge slices of dark-chocolate cake that taste as good as they look! 



You can meander for hours in and out of the design shops and organic eateries.  Arne Jacobsen's cutlery - which looked so futuristic even in 1968 - is on display at the Design Centre and you can eat off it at the Radisson SAS Royal Hotel, which Jacobsen designed from top to bottom, and which is full of Jacobsen's famous Swan and Egg chairs. 



Vesterbro was a district known since the 1960s for its sex industry and having more butchers per square kilometre than anywhere else in Europe, however, during the last ten years it has undergone a massive transformation. It is now one of the hippest and most fashionable places in the city, centring on Istedgade with its boho-cafés, retro-kitsch clothes shops and cool designer shops.  



As dusk falls, I'd recommend Copenhagen's centrepiece, the beautiful Tivoli Gardens, an amusement park and pleasure garden, lit by 110,000 lanterns.  It opened in 1843, and has been a source of national pride ever since.  Rollercoasters, circus acts, clown shows and pantomime performances provide fun for the family, while for adults there is a wide selection of cabaret, comedians, discos, live jazz and the celebrated Tivoli Symphony Orchestra.



The Nimb, a 12-bedroom luxury hotel and gourmet restaurant, rises up in the centre of the gardens.   Looking like a white, Moorish palace lit by thousands of bulbs, it's stunning. Inside is the Summerbird Chocolaterie, where you can buy Grand Cru snowballs, a giftbox of white chocolate and liquorice called Je t'aime, or Summerbird sushi containing dark chocolate with ginger, or Delicacies in a Jar containing Italian hazelnuts cloaked in dark chocolate. 



One of the most über-cool Copenhagen cocktail bars is Ruby's, located at Nybrogade 10.  Upstairs, the grand rooms ooze history, but downstairs, you pass through a high security vault door to a dimly lit lounge whose creaky leather chairs, antique wallpaper and illuminated glass cases full of vintage whiskeys seem to speak of shady business deals.  The Ruby martini cocktails are flowing fast and the place is packed with blonde-haired, blue-eyed Danes.  The owner's very own words on their website seem to sum up the place: "despite a slight feeling of rarefied exclusivity, Ruby plays host to all of Our Lords children, despite colour, race, social status or complete lack of dress sense.  Uptown socialites as well as downtown socialisers, everyone is welcome." 



The next morning, a 25-minute river ferry (it's part of the public transport system) takes me to the contemporary Opera House and then it's a short walk to Christiania, Copenhagen’s alternative side.   The 'Free City' of Christiania was established by a group of hippies in 1971 who had just returned overland from Kathmandu and who took control of an abandoned military barracks and abstained from Danish rule.  Often called Freetown, today it is one of the most groovy sights in Copenhagen.



The founders made their own rules, tried to be self-sufficient, and lived close to the wild earth. A liberal state allowed the experiment to flourish even though its laws did not apply in this flower power enclave. Indeed, over the years Christiania became a symbol of Danish tolerance and the second biggest tourist draw in Copenhagen after the mermaid.



Christiania is like walking into a time-travel machine: the bars are inhabited by ageing hippies with white beards smoking hash. Houses are painted with 70s style psychedelic art with peace signs, elderly women transport firewood by rickshaw and nobody pays taxes.  





Creativity is found in rich measure here for there are paintings, murals and sculptures everywhere and country lanes lead to Hobbit-scaled mushroom houses that seem to have been built from junkyard detritus.  These houses, built by the present inhabitants and which nobody owns, are works of art in themselves. Around one corner, I find a Buddhist stupa with prayer flags fluttering above the path.  The experimental cafés sell organic asparagus pie or fish cakes, Fairtrade coffee and good beer.



If you're looking for an unusual souvenir, check out Kvindesmedien, a trio of female blacksmiths who make furniture and artwork out of iron.  As you leave Christiania, you pass through a gateway which says "You are now entering the EU". 



Hiring a car and driving up the coast north of Copenhagen is rewarding for its sleepy, rural idyll qualities and badehoteller (literally, 'bathing hotels').  Surrounded by fishermen's houses, the Skovshoved Hotel is a breezy, romantic place, full of Scandinavian charm, and set  between what are reputed to be the two best beaches in Copenhagen - Charlottenlund and Bellevue.  Forty kilometres north of Copenhagen, the Louisiana museum offers a blend of art, architecture, music and natural landscape.  One exhibit I love is a huge, golden thumb.  Further north still, Kronborg is one of northern Europe's most important Renaissance castles - known from Shakespeare's Hamlet.  



There are a string of coastal villages where time seems to have stood still, but it is Tisvildeleje that really sings to me.  It's a quaint seaside village of wooden houses, a beach of fine white sand, soft dunes, and Denmark's fifth largest forest.  It is here you can observe the Danes' great national obsession: a consuming love for the great outdoors. They sing, eat, fish, paint and bathe here.  On a midsummer's evening, there is a palpable feeling of magic, enhanced by the quality of light. 



"Hygge" is one of the fundamental aspects of Danish culture.  "Hygge" may be defined as the presence of, and pleasure from comforting, gentle, and soothing things and complete absence of anything emotionally overwhelming or irksome.



And my feelings of "hygge" could not be more abundant in this beautiful spot.



Factbox



We flew from London Heathrow with FlySAS (www.flysas.com) and stayed at the Front Hotel in Copenhagen (www.front.dk) in a superior room (1660 DKK).



The city's official tourism website contains a wealth of information, VisitCopenhagen.com



To get around, Copenhagen's superb metro runs 24 hours a day 7 days a week.  The CPH Card is ideal for 24 or 78 hours visits and allows free admission in over 60 attractions, best to buy before you travel to Denmark (see VisitCopenhagen.com).  Most notably, the fastest way from Kastrup International Airport to downtown (Kongens Nytorv) is via the metro (it takes just 20 minutes).  Car hire can be organised with Europcar from £32.36 per day www.europcar.com.



Royal café Copenhagen www.theroyalcafé.dk

Ruby's Cocktail Bar www.rby.dk

Tivoli Gardens www.tivoli.dk

The Nimb www.nimb.dk

Christiania www.christiania.org

Louisiana Museum www.louisiana.dk

You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine in newsagents or read it entirely online www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html

Brazil's own Galapagos islands

Fernando de Noronha islands, Brazil – Brazil’s own Galapagos islands  There are more spinner dolphins and sea turtles than people on Fernando de Noronha.   The Brazilian Environment Protection Agency limits visitors to this mountainous archipelago and national marine park to 700 per day.  Therefore, these islands, lying 340 miles off the northeast coast of Brazil offer a true Robinson Crusoe experience.   Nearly everything and everyone (including UNESCO) on the seven-square-mile main island is geared toward preserving Noronha's abundant marine life and endemic land species.  Beach lovers will find 16 immaculate, deserted beaches, set between craggy sea cliffs and volcanic rock formations emerging from the translucent waters.



The horseshoe-shaped Baia do Sueste and the isle of Cabeluda form one of the most idyllic backdrops, all of it on view from the bungalows and common areas at Pousada Maravilha (55-81/3619-0028;  www.pousadamaravilha.com.br).  Whether guests here sink into outdoor ofuro (Japanese baths) on their private decks or onto the impossibly comfortable lobby furniture from Brazilian design firm Artefacto, you'll forget all concept of time in this stunning paradise. The 12 eucalyptus- and ipe-wood bungalows at the new Pousada Teju-Acu (Estrada da Alamoa 55-81/3619-1277;  www.pousadateju-acu.com.br) resemble upscale tree houses—ones filled with examples of northeastern Brazilian design, such as onion-skin lamp shades and finger paintings of hometown street scenes from Recife artist Ze Som.



Environmental laws limit fishing in these waters, leading to a shortage of fresh seafood on the island, so the long lines for tables at Ecologiku's (Estrada Velha do Sueste; 55-81/3619-1807) are justified. Sizeable local lobsters are served whole or thrown into fiery capixabas (a version of Bahia's moquecas, or seafood stews).



FlyTAP Portugal Airlines fly to Brazil from London, www.flytap.com

You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine in newsagents or read it entirely online www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html

Garden of Eden

25 February 2010

Fregate is a paradise island with lush green jungle and unadulterated luxury.



Ah, what a delicate balancing act luxury travel is.  The trick is to seek out a destination that's difficult enough to get to (think helicopters and chartered boats) but not at all difficult to navigate once you've arrived.  The Seychelles has come to pretty much define such luxury - and, among their constellation of super-secluded islands, Frégate Island Private may be the most remote, beautiful and natural.  The only accommodations are 16 villas, ensuring that there are never more than 40 people inhabiting its 740 gorgeous acres.

 
In 1721, when an infamous, one-eyed, French pirate called Olivier Levasseur captured treasures of untold magnificence from the Portugese galleon Nossa Senora do Cabo as it sailed near the Swahili coast, he is said to have buried the haul on Frégate island.  An old parchment map shows that Frégate was then called Skeleton Island.    Levasseur, also known as The Buzzard, because of the speed with which he attacked his enemies, met his maker nine years later at the hangman's noose, leaving the mystery of his unclaimed treasure.  A treasure that included a golden cross inset with rubies and chests full of gold coins that still remain undiscovered today.

I arrived on Frégate after a 20 minute helicopter ride from Mahé, and on my first morning, my guide takes me on a tour of Frégate by golf buggy.  We stop and walk through jungle.  "Well, the treasure could be buried anywhere here" he says, pointing at a muddy spot, "People have come looking for it, with metal detectors and the like, but no-one has yet unearthed it.  These tortoises are sitting on a fortune".  

Wild giant tortoises are everywhere, foraging for their daily diet of pumpkin and breadfruit.  Thousands live on the island and they are only found here and in the Galapagos.

"We have 70,000 birds on Frégate," says my guide, "Species include the endangered Seychelles White Eye, the Madagascan fodi, as well as 70 out of the world's total of 100 magpie robins."  He goes on to tell me that the island is named after a bird.  Lazare Picault, a more benign 18th-century seafarer, called it Frégate in honour of the distinctive native frigates that he found nesting in the rocks.  These black-and-green feathered birds have downward-curving beaks, forked tails, and look almost prehistoric.  

In true skull-and-crossbones-style, if Hollywood ever needed a location for a swashbuckling film, this is it.  It would also make a great second for the next Jurassic Park film.  

The island's sinuous, root-choked lanes, steep green angles, preternaturally beautiful beaches and tranquil rainforests make it feel like a small continent. 

If I have a single enduring memory of Frégate, it's the abundance, the variety, the omnipresence of vivid colour; not just the dazzling green of the Takamaka jungle, or the salt-crusted vermillion granite cliff that encircles much of the island, nor the emerald fields and pink flowers of its lush interior, but the exorbitant turquoise of its seas, the wedding-cake white sands, the technicolour sunsets and salmon-pink dawns, and the small, inquisitive white doves and birds with feathers that look like they've been randomly splashed with pillar-box red paint.

Lying just four degrees south of the Equator, this paradise is ultra-exclusive and often yours alone.   Being a private island, no day-trippers are allowed; the resort’s tariff keeps away all but the most determined sybarites.  It has become a favourite amongst the stars of Hollywood and all across Europe—A-list couple David and Victoria Beckham celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary by renting the entire island.

Owned by a reclusive German tycoon, Frégate looks like the secret HQ of a James Bond villain (as it happens, Pierce Brosnan is also a frequent guest).  Barefoot luxury and conservation are the guiding principles—all 16 villas and the main pavilion keep with an all-natural aesthetic, designed by renowned American design firm Wilson & Associates.

My secluded villa is a marriage of Balinese-style stone, Chamfuta teak and thatch and bamboo pavilions, built into cliffs among dense palm groves that barely interrupt the island's natural beauty.   My bedroom has four-poster canopy beds with a palatial bathroom of Italian marble leading out to an al fresco shower.  It's the size of a mansion.  Outside is a 33ft long infinity pool.   A private butler is assigned to each villa and with a staff-to-guest ratio at three-to-one, they're miraculously there when you need them and absent when you don't.    My only company is a giant fruit bat that keeps flying past. 

The Rock Spa is run by Bernadette Chang Ty Seng who is a "Madam Dibwa" (a Seychelloise word meaning 'Fairy of the Forest').  She uses generations-old knowledge of local herbs and plants for healing spa treatments.  No product line is used in the spa - all treatments are freshly made from the organic produce of Frégate Island. 

After the jet-lag of the 12 hour flight from London, I'm soon feeling chilled after a one hour massage inside the tranquil interior of bamboo rafters, dark wood columns, Buddhist temple gongs and Indonesian rice chests.   I'm served champagne and chocolates after the session ends. 

I've stayed at a number of top ranked resorts and this secret hideaway is blessed with perfection. It's quite possibly the best resort in the world.    My days are spent walking the many trails, wildlife-spotting, visiting the museum housed in the Plantation House that documents the European Corsair pirates who settled on the island in the early 18th century - or swimming in solitude at Anse Victorin (a groin-achingly beautiful crescent beach 230 paces from end to end, backed by palm forest and hemmed in by sensuously-shaped boulders; in one of the more surreal touches, staff will close off the pathway down to this beach if you request to have it all to yourself!).  I also explore the island's plantations—most of the fruit, vegetables, salads and herbs consumed on the island are homegrown: the plantations are full of mangoes, papayas, guava, coconuts, melons and bananas.  I savour the distinct aromas of coffee plants, chillies, mint, cashew apples and vanilla, as well as a staggering 17 species of banana.   Produce is harvested daily and the resort's chef places a firm emphasis on simplicity to maximise the food's natural goodness.

The colonial-style Plantation House serves Indian-Asian fusion or Creole dishes.   The alternative dining venue is Frégate House, where gourmet international dishes are served.   For me, the breakfast was so memorable, with homemade jams and freshly squeezed juice from the fruit trees dotted around the island.

Private dinners on your balcony are the norm. If you try really hard, you may see another guest. I saw maybe two or three guests at breakfast once and that's about it. And the island was almost fully booked.

Frégate's conservation projects have yielded dramatic results: the Seychelles Magpie Robin, still the world's seventh rarest bird, has been rejuvenated from a global population of just 22, all on Frégate Island, in 1995 to over 180 today. 

Whilst I didn't find any pirate's treasure, the real treasure was the chance to stay in this modern-day Garden of Eden and the glorious oneness with nature that entailed. 

Factbox
More information, rates and bookings can be made via Frégate's website www.fregate.com, +49 69 86 00 42 980 or e-mail reservations@fregate.com.   Rates for Frégate Island Private start from €1,300 per person per night.   Flights from London to the Seychelles are with Air Seychelles, touching down on Mahé.  Frégate will organise transfers from Mahé.  If you want to stay on Mahé before or after Frégate, check out the Banyan Tree (www.banyantree.com/en/seychelles/index.html).



You can purchase Escapism magazine in newsagents or read the entire magazine online:

www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html

Into the Green

25 February 2010

Steep, green and wild.. view into the Sumidero Canyon, Chiapas.  

Most people head to the Yucatan beaches when they visit Mexico, but I was taking a guilt-free holiday to the southern province of Chiapas, the final stop before Guatemala.



The little boy sitting next to me on the flight to Tuxtla Gutiérrez leaned towards me, and gazing out of the plane window, said with wide eyes, “the jungle looks like endless broccoli from above – not like what we left behind”.



He was right. Far below, there was an almost unbroken stretch of jungle, which was very different to the urban jungle of Mexico City. Most people head to the Yucatan beaches when they visit Mexico, but I was taking a ‘guilt-free’ holiday to the southern province of Chiapas, the final stop before Guatemala. It’s a one hour flight but light-years away from Mexico City.



Chiapas is cloaked in jungle with lost Mayan cities, isolated waterfalls and indigenuous tribes. It’s a “guilt-free” experience because the province’s eco-tourism projects ensure your vacation is not to the detriment of wildlife and the environment. My first excursion amply demonstrates how successful eco-tourism can be. We embark on a motorboat at Chiapa de Corzo on the banks of the Río Grijalva and scud beneath the 1,000 metre high Sumidero Canyon, passing 12-foot long crocodiles, the air swarming with black vultures that live in caves. My guide, Pepe, points out a waterfall that has eroded the walls away into strange curls of rock, resembling a Christmas tree shape. We drift into a red and white coloured cave, the Cave of Colours, with a ladder leading up to a shrine dedicated to the Virgin of Guadalupe.



Every December, locals make a pilgrimage by boat to bring offerings, make music and light candles. An isolated jetty heralds the Sumidero Eco-tourism Park, a small resort of traditional buildings with thatched roofs. The main purpose of Sumidero is to protect wildlife and the environment, whilst offering the creature comforts of a glorious swimming pool and restaurant. Pollutants in the river have caused crocodiles to be born with genetic defects, and so the Park’s projects involve cleaning the river, and they have their own organic water cleansing unit. An interpretive path leads uphill past orchids, ceiba trees and butterflies to an enclosure of toucan birds, spider monkeys, two female jaguars and a puma. Jaguars in the Mexican wilds are endangered species, but here they are cared for in a safe environment. The hill terminates at the Zip Wire where I hook myself on and ‘fly’ through the air at great speed on a series of metal wires high above the treetops. Some of the wires are ½ km in length between stations. The vista of vivid-green rainforest fringing the canyoned-river seduces me in one fell swoop. It’s a thrilling flight.



Leaving Sumidero, we pick up a bus which passes through settlements centred around crudely-built churches painted turquoise and lime-green. First impressions of the old colonial capital of San Cristóbal de las Casas are not good – we arrive in the dark after a bone-shaking journey that sees us at a chilly 2,100 metres above sea level.



My room is bitterly cold and smells of spent matches. There is no hot water. The meal, consisting of black beans, is like eating a mouthful of pins. But next morning, my spirits rise when we see the city in daylight. The central plaza is lined by colonial mansions, and a short distance north of here is Santo Domingo, a cathedral with a Baroque façade that combines Oaxacan and Guatemalan styles.

The most compelling experience is the church of San Juan in nearby Chamula, its village peopled by Tzotzil-speaking indigenous Maya Indians. They wear extraordinarily-bright costumes and live in houses made from mud mixed with pine needles. From across the market square, San Juan looks like an ordinary white Spanish church. But the hot, sooty interior is crammed with thousands of flickering candles, there are pine needles sprinkled all over the floor, the walls are lined with glass cases containing statues of Saints, some with mirrors attached to their chests, and a man is playing a melancholy tune on a concertina. The burning of incense is choking. All around me, people are singing or chanting. There is a figure on the floor, taking a swig from an oily bottle, a spirit known as pox or ‘white water’. A Mayan woman gulps down Coca Cola, before burping loudly. She removes a live chicken from the bag beside her and raises it above the candles. With eyes closed and a look of intense concentration on her face, she chants, and then, shockingly, wrings the chicken’s neck. After several long moments, the chicken stops moving and she sprinkles pox over it’s lifeless body before placing it inside the bag.



Pepe explains that the Mayans hold these healing sessions if they have a problem in their life – if they are ill or their crops fail – and that the chicken discharges all evil. Drinking Coca Cola makes them burp, which brings out the evil that has caused the problem. The chicken represents freedom because of its wings, and its sacrifice brings back health and good fortune. The dead chicken is kept inside the bag so no-one can touch it – it has absorbed evil – and then buried in the hills. Whole families come here, sometimes three times a day to meet with their shaman. They sometimes bring offerings – particularly eggs because the embryo represents a living thing. It is a moving experience.

Two days later, the going is easy and we head down to the sweltering lowlands, covering a good distance on the Pan American Highway, to the Usumacinta River at Escuda Jaguar, bordering Guatemala. Here, we get on a lancha, a yellow-painted narrowboat with a roof of tin and reeds and after half an hour, we pull in at a remote, muddy spot. Paths lead through the rainforest, and in the mid-day heat, pockets of hot air mug you. “Don’t wander off – there are deadly snakes here” yells Pepe. The howler monkeys are shrieking and we have to dart out the way as they try to urinate on us. The path deposits us close to a pyramid-shaped building which is the start of the ruined Mayan city of Yaxchilán, dating from 680 to 760 AD. There is a dark labyrinth, which I enter with a pen-light and I am feeling brave until I see the ceiling is literally covered in bats and there are spiders the size of your fist. Out in the daylight, the Pequena Acropolis and the climb up 200 steps to Edificio 33, a palace with beautiful carvings, is rewarding. There is a headless statue in one room and next door the head is displayed on a plinth.



Lacandón legend has it that when the head of this statue is replaced upon its shoulders, the end of the world will come. Yaxchilán is an exciting place, it exudes an aura of mysticism, being completely wild without any tourist trappings and only reachable by boat. Visiting gives you a sense of how the first explorers felt when they stumbled across this city. We spend that night at the Hotel Nututum on the edge of Palenque. The hotel is pleasantly dated, with spacious rooms in 1970s style, and best of all, a large swimming area in the river. Like kids, we dive from the road bridge into the water. Palenque has great nightlife. At a table on the pavement, we sprinkle salt thickly onto half a lime, suck on it, and then down tequila. In this town, you can dance until dawn. Palenque also has its own world-famous Maya ruins which are truly superb, but get there early before the tourists hoards.



On the last day, after the heat of the rainforest has left my clothes sopping, we travel to the Misol-ha Waterfall. It’s a tranquil spot in the jungle depths and nothing beats shedding my clothes and plunging into the icy, lime-green pool beneath the falls. This corner of Mexico, however off the beaten track, holds some magical sights which make for a great two-centre holiday: one week on the Yucatan beaches, and one week exploring Chiapas.



Factfile: Chiapas-based ATC Tours ( tel 00 52 967 631 4324) can help you organise flights, road transport and an itinerary, complete with a guide and accommodation. It is strictly forbidden to take photographs inside the church of San Juan at Chamula.



Essentials: Take along a good Spanish phrasebook.



Shopping: Ornaments made of jade in San Cristobal, 100% real wool ponchos, brightly coloured fabrics in Chamula, or bead necklaces.



Internal Flights: AeroMexico (www.aeromexico.com) For more information, check out www.visitmexico.com or call the Mexico Tourist Board on 020 7488 9392

You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine in newsagents or read it entirely online www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html

Head for The Chocolate Hills

These are the beautiful Chocolate Hills, in Bohol, the Philippines. Legend has it that the hills came into existence when two giants threw stones at each other. The hills are entirely natural. In the dry season, the grass turns brown, looking like chocolate. It is both a beautiful and peculiar view of one of Nature's strangest creations.

You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine in newsagents or read it entirely online http://www.Escapism-Magazine.com/read.html

Santes Dwynwen's Day - Welsh Valentine's Day

The Welsh have an alternative Valentine's Day - Santes Dwynwen's Day - held every year on 25 January. It celebrates Dwynwen, the Welsh Saint of love.  Dwynwen became a nun and went to Llanddwyn Island, a tiny island off Anglesey to build a church.  As well as being rich in Celtic legend, the island has breathtaking scenery - the flora and fauna of the Newborough Warren sand dunes, 10 miles of footpaths, and spectacular views of Snowdonia and the Llŷn Peninsula.

Whilst 25 January has passed, a 14th February walk around Llanddwyn Island could be just the topic to blow away the winter cobwebs.

You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine in newsagents or read it entirely online: www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html

Perfect Valentine's Day destination

Readers have sent me emails and letters asking my advice about the most romantic destination in the world for Valentine's Day. The old favourites, Paris, Venice, Marrakech, Istanbul or Copenhagen spring to most people's minds. 

Angel of Hope, Puerto Vallarta 

One of my personal favourites, however, is Puerto Vallarta (pronounced 'vay-art-ah'), on the Pacific coast of Mexico. The oldest part of town, called Villa Romantica, has cobbled streets, centuries-old churches painted pink, and steep, green jungles tumbling down to the green shoals of the Pacific. It's impossibly romantic. The town make me think of Puerto Vallarta as a Mexican version of Rio de Janeiro, without the crime and poverty - a place soaked through with salty tropical glamour, laissez-faire attitude and lusty, exorbitantly-rich scenery. 

Conchas Chinas 

The town is redolent with romance and natural beauty - the town's centrepiece, the cathedral of Our Lady of Guadalupe is a true expression of art. 

The main building, constructed from rosy-red brick, is considered to be neoclassic, while the crown reminds me of baroque Austrian temples. The lateral towers, due to their late completion, have an elegant, Renaissance feel.  I also love the quirky statues that seem to typify the avante-garde, liberated feel of the town: several, strange, abstract bronze figures by Alejandro Colunga, entitled The Rotunda of the Sea, with half-human, half-alien, sea or space creatures. 

You have to sit on them as they are half in the shape of chairs and tables to experience their odd effect on the senses. Life revolves around the beach, particularly Playa de los Muertos where you'll see tourists from USA, Canada, Australia and Italy, mixing with super-models and Mexican A-list actors. If you take one of the boat trips from the end of the fishing pier, however, you'll be able to visit Los Arcos, a cluster of rocks where snorkeling and swimming rewards with hundreds of species of fish. 

As the town faces west, the sunsets are to die for. It's almost like the whole world is on fire.

Sunset south of town 

The town sees few British travellers. However, it's easy to get there from London on Continental via Houston (http://www.continental.com/).

We'll be revealing our travel story on Puerto Vallarta in a future issue of Escapism Travel Magazine. You can purchase Escapism Travel Magazine at newsagents or read it entirely online: www.escapism-magazine.com/read.html

Green velvet

I was fortunate enough to visit the Central American country of Belize in November. It's situated south of Mexico and is the only country in Latin America where English is the official language. This tiny country was colonised by the British and formerly called British Honduras. What is inspiring is the Belizeans really care about nature and ecology.

I met ecologists and professors who spoke of sustainable tourism masterplans and proverbs such as "tourism is like a fire - you can cook a meal on it, or it can burn your house down". Belize actually has one of the lowest population densities in the world. At 186 miles, it also has the second longest coral barrier reef in the world, after the Great Barrier Reef. Most interesting to me was one of the professors quoting Sir Colin Marshall, CEO of British Airways back in 1994 who gave an interesting defintion of tourism: "It is essentially the renting out, for short-term lets, of other people's environments, whether that is a coastline, a city, a mountain range or a forest. These products must be kept fresh and unsullied, not just for the next day, but for every tomorrow."

When I ventured into the rainforest, or flew in a 10-seater 'plane along its pristine coastline, I saw Belize really is wild, green, unsullied and lovely.

Half Moon Caye: Robinson Crusoe, eat your heart out.

I also visited Altun Ha, a breathtakingly beautiful historic site, hidden away in the jungle and home only to howler monkeys and the Smooth Headed Basilisk.

Smooth Headed Basilisk

I also met Eladio Pop, one of the most curious and charming farmers I have ever met, at his remote farm deep in the jungle at San Pedro Columbia, reached by what is now a dusty, old track built over 100 years ago in the British logging days.

Eladio is of Keckchi Mayan origin and has radically different beliefs about life and food. He has fifteen children and plants banana seeds in his fields according to the state of the moon - if a crescent moon is in the sky, he believes the crescent shape resembles a banana, and he will sow his banana seeds at that time and be guaranteed a good harvest. He will only pick the bananas during a full moon. Eladio literally lives off the land - eating only plants and fruits - "My garden, it's God's garden. Look at this banana, its seeds were sown when the crescent moon was out. This banana is willing".

Eladio Pop offers me a banana

He shows me the Jippi Jappa plant, pear trees, coffee, lime, cacao, lemongrass, corn which he makes tortilla with, the pepper tree (the brightly-coloured local bird wildlife eat the peppers according to Eladio to "heat up their hearts"). And as odd as it sounds, he makes his own form of "champagne" from fermenting the cacao seed. You literally can eat and drink your way around his farm.

In just over an hour's drive back to the coast, you can call in at Garbutt's Marine & Fishing Lodge and be taken out by boat into the 322 sq mile Port Honduras Marine Park, with the misty mountains of Guatemala forever beckoning on the horizon.

First stop is the Ranger station. Among the species the Port Honduras Marine Reserve protects are dolphins, parrots, Indian manatees, and countless kinds of fish.

 

We then proceed to Snake Caye, a remote island with a splash of jungle, crunchy white sand and turquoise shoals. The snorkeling is the best I have experienced anywhere in the world - I see schools of fish undaunted by my presence.

 

Snake Caye

Isolation guaranteed: Snake Caye

Cyan waters: the view from a disused watch-tower on Snake Caye

And finally, also in the Punta Gorda region is Hickatee Cottages, an isolated, high-end set of cottages run by Kate and Ian Morton, originally from Kent and Berkshire (England). The cottages were only built a few years ago, but have a wonderful, colonial rustic charm. They are incredibly photogenic and a wonderful place to base yourself when touring Southern Belize.

 

We'll be publishing our feature on Belize in the next issue of Escapism Travel Magazine. To have a read of the current issue right now go here : www.Escapism-Magazine.com/digitalversion.html