Introducing the Laguna Beach House

When Mount Erciyes poured lava over central Turkey thousands of years ago, the volcanic ash formed a surreal, lunar-like landscape consisting of cone-shaped “fairy chimneys” and layers of soft volcanic rock called “tufa.” Early Christians found the pervious terrain ideal for escaping persecution by Romans and Arabs. When wet, the tufa could be easily carved like soap to make caves out of the pinnacles as well as underground cities descending hundreds of feet below the surface. Tunnels were carved into the soft volcanic rock that venture a mind-boggling 7 and 8 levels underground. They lead to rooms that were used to sleep, eat, pray, along with advanced ventilation systems and a well to retrieve water.
We just booked a cruise for a couple headed to Antarctica in January of 2018. That comes on the heels of a safari booking for Botswana in September 2018. You might think that these folks are crazy to book so far in advance. In fact, they’re smart since they want to knock off destinations on their wish list and know that there’s only a limited supply of cruises headed to Antarctica, a small number of safari lodges in Botswana’s Okavango Delta. There’s been such a surge of traffic to well-known destinations of late that Barcelona and Rome are both considering limits this year to the amount of people entering the city each day. And I can’t tell you how many people we could not help last summer when they came calling to find lodging in Iceland at the last minute. The country was essentially sold out. Give us enough advance notice and we can make your dreams a reality, with far better flights and lodging options.
On the main thoroughfare of Savannah’s downtown corridor, the Perry Lane promises to bridge the antebellum past with modern comforts when it opens on May 18. The owners spent five years studying Savannah, so they’ve figured out how to transform all that history into a 21st-century hotel. A Starwood Luxury Collection Hotel, the property offers 167 guest rooms, rooftop bar, pool, and Emporium Kitchen and Wine Bar featuring locally sourced meats, fish, and cheeses.
And now some good news from Paris. Opening this week in the 8th arrondissement, off the Champs-Elysées and close to Place de la Concorde, is the boutique La Réserve Paris Hotel. Housed in a former mansion once owned by the designer, Pierre Cardin, the hotel features 26 spacious suites and 14 rooms. Suites include personal butler service and an in-room wine cooler. The hotel’s French restaurant, Le Gabriel, will be run by chef Jérôme Banctel, previously at the helm of the two-star Michelin restaurant, Senderens. A spa will offer three treatment rooms, gym, sauna, and a 52-foot indoor pool. Ooh la la!
For Mother’s Day this year, the Boston Globe asked a handful of their travel writers to reminisce about traveling with their moms for a story that will appear in Sunday’s paper. This is the first memory that popped into my head. Happy Mother’s Day!
Growing up, I was often embarrassed by the decibel level of my mother’s voice. Her thick Bronx accent and layered laugh would echo off the walls of the high school auditorium much to the chagrin of my suave adolescent persona. No doubt flirting with some girl, I would hear her scream across the room, “Steeeeepheennn, come meet Mr. So-and-So. He likes to write too!”
Needless to say, I wasn’t relishing the thought of spending an extended period of time with my mother in Paris in1985. She was on her first trip abroad with my dad while I was backpacking through Europe with my college sweetheart, now my wife of 18 years. We met at a restaurant where my mom already had her Berlitz book open. She was practicing her French on the waiter who was laughing his head off, having never heard that unique blend of the Grand Concourse meets the Champs-Elysées speak. My mom ordered lamb and the waiter came back with three slices of bologna, having misunderstood her.
It should come as no surprise that the people who coined the phrase joie de vivre adored her exuberant personality and treated my mom like the next coming of Josephine Baker. At a jazz joint, noticing the Swing dancing skills that once garnered my mom awards in her youth, a Frenchman asked her for an opportunity. My father urged her on and my mom and that guy cut a rug into tatters they were moving so fast. All I saw was a blur of white teeth plastered on my mom’s face, framed by ruby red lipstick.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I miss that laugh!