Tuscany is a part of the world I felt I was familiar with. I’ve walked the cobbled streets of Siena. I’ve jostled through the overbearing crowds of Florence, craning my neck to take in the wonders of Brunelleschi and his kin while keeping half an eye on…
Above me, a giant teardrop-shaped chandelier hangs from the 100-foot high ceiling. Fairy-tale beanstalk leaves sprout from behind the reception desk, a link to the Laconian princess Carya, who was turned into a walnut tree by her father, Dionysus.
The sound of choral singing skips like sunlight across the sea as we approach Likuliku. The staff are out to greet us, stood on the edge of the long wooden pier, dressed in traditional garb of sulus and bark-made warrior skirts, with guitars strumming to the echo of the ocean. I can taste the water spraying in my face as our boat speeds toward the resort. As their carol gets louder, the joy is palpable; a welcome as warm as the climate. We didn’t know it yet, but this type of reception is typical in Fiji: serenaded on arrival, gifted with a traditional seashell garland, and showered with cocktails. Typical,…
Riding the jam-packed Jubilee Line on a Monday morning with passengers grimacing at each other in silent solidarity, I decided I needed a break. Not just a break from work, but a break from the city. A mid-morning trawl of the internet brought up the Bedford Lodge Spa and Hotel, an eighteenth-century hunting lodge that had been converted into a hotel in the 1940s. The Hotel is in Newmarket, about an hour and a half from London. Far enough away to feel like you’re out of the city, but not so far that you spend the majority of your weekend in a car. Bedford Lodge is set in 3 acres…