Tim Magee is a man with a plan – to escape winter by daydreaming of holidays to come in 2024 …
Apparently rats laugh. Monkeys, I knew about. Dogs and cats, the jury is out. Although being very familiar with both, I choose to believe they do. But rats? I choose to believe they don’t. I have no particular fear or aversion to rats but really, what’s so funny?
It is 4am on a January morning and, aside from being demented by the news and musing on giggling rats, it’s easy to be awake in your 50s. There are the aul fella loo trips, which have reduced from three to one to occasionally none, as an accidental but welcome side effect of a random bottle of melatonin tablets I picked up in Italy. TMI Tim! Yes I know, but who else to talk to at this hour?
Daydreaming in January is easier. One euro small coffees on zinc bars. Technicolour food markets. Warm rain. Snow-splashed mountains spied between palm trees. Earwigging a word here or there but not having a baldy of what’s in the local news. The safe scent of mozzie spray and a dash of Hawaiian Tropic for nostalgia. Tree frogs. Guessing menu items and feeling all the better for not being in control. Cicadas. Jamon so good that it melts around the shape of your hand and tastes like cultured butter. Vespas, tuk-tuks, all manner of ningnings. A frosty Mythos, Dorada, Modelo, Messina or Superbock post-swim to mix with the salt in your mouth. Flash birds we are used to seeing in cages squawking and wheeling around like escapees. Following your nose to a bakery or grill. We don’t have that here because of health and safety extraction laws. Why can’t we have nice things? I say to my super-privileged self. At 4am.
I don’t actually need to travel this month. It’s the guttered candle view of the next two that scares the lights out of me. I am not bothered by clear and cold white, inky or navy skies, but grey doesn’t do my head any good. Now is the month for travel plans – this time next year Trump might be President for Life, Farage will probably be leader of the Tories – so this could actually be the last ever year, and we don’t want the rats to have the last laugh.
Passalacque, Lake Como
I was at the inaugural World’s 50 Best Hotels awards a few months ago, served up by the same heads behind World’s 50 Best Restaurants. There should be welldeserved Irish representation on both lists soon. The stupendous Passalacqua on Lake Como took the top slot. I figured it might be booked out until 2050, but there are rooms here and there, and at the price of a suite in London. If Passalacqua’s too full then Rosewood’s new fairytale Schloss Fuschl in Salzburg opens later this year, and will do nicely. www.passalacqua.it; www.rosewoodhotels.com.
Silverseas S.A.L.T Cruises
I’m not really built for cruise ships but, if coaxed on board, it would only be because if it was good enough for Adam Sachs, former editor-in-chief of the dearly departed Saveur magazine. I’m lucky to know Adam and Adam knows things. Things about food, and the most delicious stories behind food. He is one of the most connected souls, from his base in Brooklyn to everywhere, constantly off pinning the tail on the donkey on an evergrowing map of food culture. Some of those pins track the routes of Silversea’s cruises. Adam is behind the onboard S.A.L.T. programme – Sea and Land Taste – designed for curious voyagers to discover new places through food and drink. discover.silversea.com.
Mérida, Mexico
I’m usually in Mexico next month. If the work travel gods play ball, I’ll be in Mérida. I’ve done this part of the world a bit, initially trying to avoid Cancún, then Tulum, eventually anything termed the new Tulum. The smartest people I know have long gone the other direction to Mérida, capital of the Yucatán state. Mérida is a gorgeous, safe, one-stop shop for the best elements of Mexico, where the architecture and the food are all laid out in an open-air, lowrise pastel city of under a million. I’ll be emitting an out-of-office auto-reply from Rosas y Xocolate. www.rosasandxocolate.com.
Val D’Isère, France
I tried skiing in Vail a lifetime ago. It was very pretty but I was trapped with a consultants’ weekend retreat – wall to wall with businessmen (that’s what we used to call them) in button-down shirts with polo logos, turned up chinos and deck shoes. It took me a while to get over it. That experience might have meant I would never ski again, but the mighty and beautiful Experimental Group, taking over the Aigle des Neiges hotel in Val d’Isère this year, could coax me to get over myself, and creep back onto the nursery slopes. www.hotelaigledesneiges.com.
Rome, Athens and Madrid
This month and next are the sweetest for disappearing into one of Europe’s ancient cities that we often associate with the sun. My compass is my belly. Rome, Madrid and Athens call out to it the loudest for the three coldest months of the year. Counterintuitively, the core cuisine of these three sunny titans is winter food. Rome’s peasant pasta staples made on a cold day; Athens with the clearest of blue winter skies, one open-air grill; and Madrid with roast suckling pigs and perfect local wines to match. Add to that cheaper flights, the joy of emptier museums and landmarks, and new hotels like Athen’s The Dolli. www.thedolli.com.