A Fork in London

There is a fork in my road, one path leads home to London, the other strays out into the world. Subscribe by email Follow on Twitter Google+ .fixedfont { font-size : 11px } © 2013 www.aforkinlondon.com. All rights reserved.

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This fork eats: On the Roof with Vintage Salt, London

It’s been some time coming, I think. London has finally discovered that the space on top of it’s many shadow-casting buildings may actually be enjoyed by us sun-hungry residents. Selfridges has courageously lead the way in the rooftop revolution, after a successful tenancy of a winter apres-ski chalet, Vintage Salt has begun a seasonal summer residency.

The iconic department store has turned its skyline rooftop into a Cornish seafront village, a peaceful retreat in over-trampled Oxford Street. The menu is heavy on seafood and fresh summery salads. The extensive cocktail list suggest bright happy colours and exotic fruits. 

I was invited for a birthday brunch on a rare sunny May afternoon and basically experienced heaven. Do note, the sun played a key part in my happiness.

The food was fresh and well prepared, my tuna carpaccio was the ideal warm weather starter and a main of duck eggs with black pudding took me miles away from the Big Smoke, suggesting the best of traditional English country fare. A passion fruit cocktail was decidedly watered down but perhaps that was a good thing.

This definitely has the potential of becoming a regular hangout.  I now only need a few more sunny days...

On the Roof with Vintage Salt is located on the 6th floor rooftop of Selfridges department store in Oxford Street, London. They are open from lunch to dinner, and have afternoon tea and brunch services as well.

This fork eats is a new experimental series on the blog. I often tweet about my favourite restaurants and bars in London (and abroad) but a request came in for more details and I am delighted to oblige :)  Let me know if these short write-ups are useful, they are pretty quick to create, so I am looking forward to doing them more regularly.

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This fork swims in the Krka waterfalls

Croatia’s Plitvice Lakes have been on my bucket list for a while, so I had been planning on a day trip during my latest visit to the Dalmatia Coast. I soon found out that Plitvice is quite far inland, closer to Zadar in the North, and the prospect of a four bus ride (each-way) was not appealing. Thus I turned to my go to travel specialists at Lekker Adventures for other suggestions and they immediately returned a solution: Krka National Park.

A mere hour’s drive from Split, Krka is lesser know and crowded, ideal for a day hiking trip. Why not, I said! And so I was whisked off on arrival (from an obscenely early morning flight), to what I can only describe as a hybrid beauty between a Norwegian fjord and some sort of Celtic faerie forest.

Krka is an incredibly well preserved natural wonder. The National Park stretches 109sq.km around a dramatic river canyon. Water rules, a lush and temperate forest is fed by pristine mountain springs, underground rivers and the largest travertine cascade system in Europe. 

Thousand year-old calcified formations adorn the many pools and dramatic ravines, everywhere we walked seemed to facilitate the constant motion of waterfalls. Yet most striking was undoubtedly the colour of the mineral rich waters, bright emeralds seamlessly blending with deep hue blues.

My visit covered only the southern Skrandinski Buk route, nearest the historic town of Sibenik.  I met a ranger at the information centre in Skrandin and opted for a leisurely 20min downhill walk to the start of the hiking trail, instead of taking the frequent shuttle service. As the views opened through the forest canopy, I got the first glimpse of a deep dramatic canyon.

The walking route is well marked and maintained.  It takes less than two hours to complete the southern circuit and that includes passing through the remains of a mill village and an abandoned hydro-electric plant. Due to the abundance of water, the park authorities use a fine system of planked walkways that help visitors stay en route and also help protect the diverse natural habitats.

Krka is home the a variety of fish, amphibians and reptiles, and it is also a preeminent bat and bird sanctuary, home to many protected species including birds of prey such as eagles, falcons, vultures and owls which are endangered across Europe. In the more remote regions of the park, large mammals still roam free, in a rare safe haven for otters, wolves and wild cats.

The walk through the park was stunning. For the most part, I was enveloped in dreamy green canopies that allow in only a few bursting rays of sunlight. The sound of water trickling away was everywhere, and the colours were unreal. There were other visitors (mostly Croatian school groups) but the trail never felt crowded or rushed. And then the highlight: Krka Park authorities allow visitors to swim in a designated area of the travertine falls if weather and current conditions are mild.

I was lucky to have arrived on a beautiful spring day. The water was cold and the currents surprising strong, but those were small barriers to surpass.  With the sun out, crystal clear pools of green, and a general atmosphere of conviviality, that swim was the perfect treat in a perfect day!

The length of the national park can be trekked and visited in smaller sections, but a handy boat excursion runs the length of the canyon.  The first route from Lozovac (across the canyon from Skradin) covers the wider southern stretch, to the Visovac island monastery.

A second route includes a stop in isolated Visovac and reaches the dramatic falls of Roški Slap. The third and more remote route is a two and a half hour ferry ride in the narrow northern canyon, passing the Krka monastery and ruins of the Trošenj and Nečven fortresses.

After a stunning day among the pristine nature of Krka, I reluctantly returned to Split with a quick stop in Sibenik. My ranger guide had suggested it, a picturesque Medieval town, she said.  And it didn’t disappoint.  The old city centre is a sleepy contrast to historic Split, and the Venetian-inspired architecture is impressive to say the least.  I have to admit through, I felt half drunk in oxygen and pure water, returning to the urban hubbub was not an easy task.

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This fork gets a fix for Berlin

This trip was supposed to be a relaxing birthday treat, an overdue quicky reunion with one of my favourite cities. I had planned a few days of slow strolling, exploring the trendy coffee houses and imaginative restaurants of Neukolln, Tempelhof and Prenzlauer Berg.

Instead, I got a tummy bug mid-flight -- I cannot help but thank the EasyJet flight attendants for their endless patience and empathy! Instead of a foodie urban escape, I had to cancel a much anticipated coffee with The Touristin, travel blogger Dorothee Lefering, and spent a day and a half in bed under care and medication from the local apotheke.

On my second evening, I was gently coached to meet my dinner plans and wobbled all the way to local favourite Monsieur Vuong near Alexanderplatz, where I ate safe bowl of steamed rice while everyone around me enjoyed fragrant Vietnamese curries, colourful cocktails and paper-rolled shrimp. There was no end to the self-pity.

A heroic friend then proposed a plan for the next day: a long walk along all my favourite sites in Mitte. And it was so that, bribed and spoiled, I surfaced into a buzzing city centre. Crossing Checkpoint Charlie from a distinctive Eastern neighborhood, we walked up Friedrichstraße, before turning towards the Topography of Terror. Next door, Trabi World lightened up the solemnity of the street, just before reaching Postdamer Platz.  

The first time I was in Berlin, construction in this area was breaking ground but the buildings still look as good as new, brilliantly representative of that great decade of Berlin architecture.  Passing through the Holocaust Memorial to the Brandenburg Gate, we ran into a bizarrely festive anti-nuclear Greenpeace protest, complete with coordinated marching drum dance.

It was clearly a massive event, a full-on attraction that emboldened other causes into some gate-crashing.  On the fringe of ‘no atomic!’ we saw smaller gatherings for environmental defense, peace causes, minority rights, anti-extremism and an incredibly orderly memorial for Avijit Roy. All vying for the attention of the press in a weird mismatch of ideologies, guerrilla marketing at its best.

I was tracing a rather touristy route, but the familiarity actually did me well, feeling increasingly at home in a city that captured my heart twenty years ago. Finally sensing some hunger, we stopped at a streetside outdoor cafe to have a simple lunch of kartoffelsuppe, the sun was out and it felt deliciously warming in the early spring chill.

We passed the grandiose Gendarmenmarkt and Bebelplatz, and then crossed over to Spree Island at the end of Unter der Linden, where we stood in the Lustgarten, my tummy now tingling happily and with excitement: before us was the perfect view of the Cathedral and Friendrich Schinkel’s Alte Museum. I love the Alte. I think it pioneering and visionary, the first institution built to share a royal collection with the common people.

And the building itself is a masterpiece of irreverent neoclassicism, a thoroughly traditional design taken to the edge with a clever choice of colours, architectural illusions and perspectival tricks. It’s sheer perfection as far as I am concerned, and that is even before contemplating the priceless antiquities collection housed inside. By now, I was felling excessively better.

After a lazy walk around the island’s museums -- the Pergamon Collection is my top pick -- we found a resting spot just below the Hackescher Markt train tracks, with makeshift bars serving delicious drinks and comfy lawnchairs set to an idyllic scene of the river and the Nationalgalerie garden pergola.  The kind of opportunism that I love about Berliners: creative reclamation among the industrial hubbub of a train depot!

The late afternoon was spent in quirky boutiques and cafes between Alexanderplatz and Prenzlauderberg. On Rosa-Luxemburg-Straße, I found Blush, a brilliant lingerie and loungewear store, and suitably walked through a rally in front of the Volksbuhne celebrating the International Women’s Day.

At Alte Schonhauser Straße, we casually discovered what must be the most polite shop in the city, P&T (Paper and Tea), where we were offered biscuits while browsing through an impressive line of fine teas and a sleek stationary collection. I wanted to buy it all!!!

Re-energised, I finally ventured into Neukolln, one of the younger up-and-coming neighborhoods in the city.  It was dusk by the time I arrived, but the quirky and multi-ethnic feel was easily identified.  At Lavanderia Vecchia, a cicchetti-style Italian trattoria housed in an old laundry, I finally got a taste of Berlin’s experimental foodie culture. Delicious creative dishes with a distinctive country rustic flavour were served in sophisticated presentations.

The next morning, I had breakfast at the local Coffeebar & Mediashop, a  trendy cafe packed full with design and tech types, doing work or enjoying a seriously impression magazine collection, free to browse. The atmosphere was relaxed and the breakfast rice pudding was divine.

A friend had invited me that to a belated birthday brunch at the Kaefer Dachgarten, the rooftop restaurant at the Reichstag Dome; she knows I love the building and Foster’s restoration. Loh and behold, we arrived to learn she had accidentally booked the right day... on the wrong month. Once again defeated and distraught, we now both walked the length of the Tiergarten, utterly ignoring the beautiful clear sunny day until reaching the awe-inspiring Goldelse.  We buckled up, recovered and headed to Charlottenburg instead.

I might have missed a chance to visit Tempelhof Park (I used to love flying into the historic airport!) or the street art scene between Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain, but I also realised that even mischance and mishap cannot turn me: I love the Millennium City!  Clearly, I thoroughly enjoyed my Berlin fix, literally and metaphorically this time .

EAT: Monsieur Vuong, Lavanderia Vecchia, Restaurant Tim Raue (two Michellin Stars), Cocolo Ramen, Big Stuff Smoked Barbecue, Oliv Cafe, Konditorei und Cafe Buchwald (for Baumkuchen), Sgaminegg, Quchnia Cafe (Gendarmenmarkt), Coffeebar & Mediashop (Checkpoint Charlie).

DO: Visit Spree Island and at least one of its renowned museum collections; enjoy one of Berlin’s many beautiful parks; see the East Side Gallery (Berlin Wall) and explore the streetart in Kreuzberg; shop in the small independent boutiques around Alexanderplatz and Hackescher Markt; stroll through the historic centre of Mitte in the evening.

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This fork walks through a tunnel of hope in Sarajevo

‘Sarajevo is known for three things’, said my guide almost as immediately as we met, ‘the assassination of Duke Franz Ferdinand that ignited the First World, the 1984 Winter Olympics, and the Bosnian War. The Winter Olympics was the last time Sarajevans felt truly proud and happy about their country, but no matter what, we love our city’.

At the time, it seemed to me this was the saddest utterance of pride.  I was loathe to say all three events have become intricately linked. The Serbian nationalism and beliefs of ethnic superiority that inspired the assassination of the Austrian-Hungarian Duke, where the same that, almost one hundred years later, fueled the genocidal war of the 1990s.

In the 1,425 days between 1992 and 1996, Sarajevo endured the longest siege of a capital in modern warfare, three times longer than the siege of Stalingrad.  In strategic locations across the city’s surrounding mountains, Serb forces incessantly shelled the city with heavy artillery an average of 329 times a day, the worst day in July 1993, 3,777 shells fell in Sarajevo. Some of the main firing positions occupied the vantage points of the 1984 Winter Olympic mountain sports sites.

Driving down the main avenue of Ulica Zmaja od Bosne, I saw the all too familiar sites from news reports: the statue of General Tito guarding the old army barracks, the Holiday Inn Hotel where the press corps took shelter, the ‘matchbox’ buildings still pox-marked by bomb and bullet damage. My guide pointed to the wide avenue: Sniper Alley. Snipers were stationed 24 hours a day on highrises to torment any residents fleeing towards the United Nations forces headquartered in Sarajevo’s airport.  Not that that would have saved them, the UN were present as observers only and, for the sake of remaining ‘neutral’, offered no sanctuary.

After the first year of siege, the city had been cut off of food, water and medical supplies. The dire situation led to the building of a secret tunnel, linking the neighborhood of Butmir in the city, to Dobrinja in the Western Bosnian Free Territories. Hand dug over months, the tunnel was the only link Sarajevo had to the outside world, almost one kilometer long, it included 340m of tunnel under the airport runway, where groundwater rose dangerously close to the live wiring.

The Sarajevo Tunnel was miraculously never discovered by the Serbs.  Between 3,000 and 4,000 people passed through it everyday, smuggling in supplies alongside the sick and wounded to be treated in the main and only hospital.  And close to 400,000 were moved out of the city during the war.  Today, it is nostalgically known as the Tunnel of Hope.

To better understand just how surrounded the city had been, we visited the Serb army positions along the mountain crests.  As we drove up through the hillside residential neighborhoods, a thick mist fell on us.  Arriving at the Olympic bobsled site I was greeted by an almost eerie atmosphere, haunting fog covering the ruins of what was once a glorious and happy spot.  It was incredibly sad.

Sarajevo is essentially a bowl.  Tucked into a tight valley, even with fog, I could clearly identify all the major landmarks from the mountain birdseye view.  My guide assured me ‘we were sitting ducks’.  But he also told me that when the rest of country was torn apart with ethnic and religious hatred, Sarajevans stood firm: Serb, Catholic and Muslim neighbors survived the war together. ‘Sarajevan first!’ he said.

Perhaps that is why the attack on the city was so merciless, a systematic attempt at cultural genocide. Story goes that when Serbian civilian casualties began piling up, soldiers of the Republika Srpska asked commanders if they should continue the attack.  The orders were to intensify the bombings, any Serbs in the city were to be considered collateral damage, it was a concerted effort to erase history and memory.

Sarajevans took to marking the spot where mortar shells fell and resulted in the death of one or more persons, they would fill the crater with red resin, creating flowering blood-hued patterns that are know today as Sarajevo roses. Few now remain, but one has been preserved as a monument in the Catholic Cathedral square.

On the way back to the city I asked my guide to visit the Olympic stadium. There I found, still standing, the 1984 torch tower. Nearby, the sporting fields are now a vast cemetery, a city under siege needed empty land to lay their dead to rest and the Olympic site was the only ready space. Solemn.

By the time I returned to the centre I was feeling a little low, with lost faith in humanity.  I decided to walk around a bit, among the busy late afternoon activity in a very social city.  I stopped for a pastry in a lovely cafe and wondered about the precarious peace imposed by the Dayton Agreement. Still numb, I had dinner at the excellent Dveri and then wandered for an hour in the evening along the river promenade. 

Sarajevo obviously seems to have an incredible capacity to recover, perhaps the city’s residents take comfort in their shared survival.  I then remembered something my guide had said, that Sarajevo has always been a multi-ethnic haven that harbours people running from persecution elsewhere, it is the place you go to to find safety.  And it is very obvious to me that safety and welcome is what one feels whenever in the city centre.

The next morning I woke up much more revived. I returned to Dveri for breakfast, was spoiled with a giant omelette and the most scrumptious loaf of homemade bread, and felt all negativity subside.  I may have arrived in the city with a dark impression, but I left feeling quite light, and with a hope to return.

For more about Sarajevo, check out my city guide here.

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This fork explores Sarajevo,  Jerusalem of the East

Sarajevo is an incredibly easy city to navigate. It is flanked on all sides by high mountains, the town has neatly expanded east to west in chronological order, taking up the compact riverbanks of the narrow Miljacka valley.  Starting at the foot of the Yellow Fortress, the city’s Eastern Ottoman history seamlessly gives way to the European Austria-Hungary centre which slowly merges with the wide avenues of the Yugoslavia Communist era and a series of tall modern buildings.

This was my first visit and I was determined to get the full spectrum of a city that I had only ever associated to the bloody civil war of the 1990′s. Ironically, Sarajevo had come back into my travel radar during the WWI centenary celebrations, it served as the opening act of the Great World War... but I am diverging and should start at the beginning.

At Bascarsija (or Pigeon) Square, the very heart of Ottoman city, I could see the old bazaar streets radiating from the main piazza, neatly organised by trade.  The metalworkers district of Kazandziluk is the most picturesque. Century old family shops sell copper and other metal ware, beautiful coffee sets and cleverly transformed shell casings, it wafts a rather intriguing air of practicality mixed with nostalgia.

Sarajevo was an unremarkable outpost during the Medieval period, playing second fiddle to the more important fortified towns such as Pocitelj. It first gained importance when the powerful medieval Kingdom of Bosnia finally fell to Muslim invaders in 15th century, marking the most westernly expansion of the Ottoman Empire, and becoming a strategic regional capital.

The Ottomans build a beautiful trading city, continuing a long standing culture of religious tolerance remarkable in that time, the residents of the city are to this day incredibly proud of their multicultural make-up. The city is often referred to as the Eastern Jerusalem, but I have been to Jerusalem and felt the conflict and distrust that exists between effectively segregated quarters drawn on religious lines. Sarajevo is a melting pot, I felt no strife, it was altogether free from the lingering tensions still openly present in other parts of the Bosnia.

The commercial traditions of the Ottoman period define the East side of the city, Medieval shops and markets still dominate the streets. I spent the most part of the morning discovering timeless monuments hidden among picturesque wooden buildings: a historic caravanserai where I tried a very smooth Bosnian coffee, the Brusa Bezistan storehouses, the majestic Gazi Husrev-Bey Mosque and adjacent Madrasa with beautifully intricate brickwork.

On the outside corner of the mosque, in the goldsmith street, there is a double drinking fountain fed from nearby mountain springs. Legend has it that if a visitor drinks from the one of its outlets they are bound to return to the city, if they drink from both they shall marry a Sarajevan.  I decided to risk a return but left love and marriage for my next trip ;) 

I also discovered the delicious Sarajevan cevapi at Zeijo, a local favourite named for the city’s football team.  My flatbread filled with juicy grilled mince meats and thick fresh cream was divine! The Ottoman clock tower on the main pedestrian thoroughfare Ferhadija marks the limits of the eastern settlement.

Nearby, the old synagogue has a striking museum commemorating the vibrant Jewish community that has been part of the city from the days after the fall of the Granada Caliphate. Sarajevo still houses one the oldest and most precious Hagaddahs in the world, an illuminated manuscript produced by Sephardic scholars in Andalusia and smuggled to safety after the Christian conquest of Spain. The same book was saved from the Nazis in World War II, hidden under floorboards of a mosque.

From this point, I had entered the ‘European’ side build during the Austrian-Hungarian period.  Elegant Neoclassical buildings flank the smart shopping streets, I visited the Catholic Sacred Heart Cathedral set in a beautiful square with a statue of Pope John Paul II, presiding over a preserved Sarajevo rose. I enjoyed a fresh pomegranate juice from a street vendour, and smiled when I passed the city’s Irish pub, with... er, a London double-decker bus parked outside. Ironic to see this combo in Sarajevo of all places.

At Liberation Square, a charming urban garden celebrating great Bosnian writers and thinkers, I found the serene statue of the Universal Man... and the Sarajevo Chess Club. A group of city residents have been stubbornly playing giant chess in the square’s south end every morning, rain or shine, war or peace, for decades. After watching the experts and their strategic moves, I visit the Orthodox Church which is allegedly built over a masonic temple. Intriguing!...

I continued on to the Monument of the Eternal Fire, remembering the fallen of the Second World War, before crossing the river near the National Theatre and enjoying some rare winter sun in a stroll down the riverside promenade. My lovely walk ended at the Latin Bridge.

I found it surprisingly plain and unremarkable, this famous spot where a Serbian nationalist murdered the heir to the Austrian-Hungarian Empire, Franz Ferdinand, and his pregnant wife, triggering World War I.  A simple memorial marks the spot that gave Sarajevo an undeserving association with Europe’s bloodiest conflicts, the 20th century seems a dark node in the city’s history.

Behind me lied a more inspiring if almost absurd sight, a layered urban mishmash: a peaceful garden with a music pavilion, the Emperor’s Mosque with a tall minaret rising in front the Franciscan Monastery and, peaking just behind it, the giant chimney of the Sarajevo Brewery. I took a break on a riverside bench and people-watched while listening to the soft metallic ringing of the city’s tram service, the first ever urban train network in the world.

Before me was the National Library and Archive, a beautiful restored building first erected by the Austrians, but respectfully playing homage to Ottoman styles. During the 90′s conflict, the attacking Serb army shelled and set the building on fire, destroying thousands of historical records in an attempt to erase the cultural history of the city.  Residents ran into the library under sniper fire to save as many precious manuscripts and records as they could before the building was engulfed in flames.

The historic centre of Sarajevo seems, on the surface, completely recovered from the conflicts of the modern era.  One has to look carefully for bullet holes and shell wounds on carefully restored buildings: a damaged enclosure of an Orthodox church, an unmarked ‘rose’ on the asphalt of Isevica Sokak, the quiet backstreet of the brewery.  I had to drive to the frontlines for a proper historic tour of the 1990′s conflict, but that is a story for another post. 

EAT: Zeljo for incredible cevapi, Ramis bakery, Dveri, Noovi, Sarajevo Brewery. Stay: Hotel Europa, Guesthouse Halvat (local guesthouse just off Pigeon Square, excellent mid-budget option). DO: try a Bosnian coffee and the local cevapi, visit the Winter Olympic sites and mountains around the city. 

Note: I visited the city and war sites with Insider Tours. I was a paying customer and can recommend them wholeheartedly. 

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This fork discovers a mystical land in Herzegovina

There is water everywhere.  That is my most enduring impression of Herzegovina. Emerald green water. Everywhere!  I had planned a walking trip in the famed pristine hills of the south-eastern side of Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH), bordering the Adriatic coastlines of Croatia and Montenegro, but nothing could have prepared me for the beauty of its dramatic river valleys.

The region isn’t large and makes for easy trips between and around towns.  It is steeped in history with immense monuments from the pre-historic period to Illyrian, Roman, Medieval, Ottoman, all the way up to the Austrian-Hungarian occupation, modern Yugoslavia and the war at independence.  

The 90s conflict is in fact a reason to plan ahead all hiking routes, and perhaps even hire a guide, as there are still many landmines strewn around the countryside.  Around the major national parks, such as Una or the famed bird reserve of Hutovo Blato, nature reigns supreme.  But the small cities and settlements are also great sites to explore on foot, some having impressive mountaintop Medieval fortresses and clear clean bathing rivers and pools... always there is water.

An hour from the regional capital of Mostar is the mystical site of Blagaj.  The ruins of an impressive Ottoman stronghold are perched on a rather dramatic looking (and steep!) hill. Below, the source of the river Buna is found within a rocky precipice. At its foot, literally sandwiched against sheer vertical rock, is a famous Sufi monastery. 

The 16th century tekke is still functioning today and hosts several festivals of Sufi Islam throughout the year including international gatherings of dervishes. On a quiet day, it is possible to visit the Dervish House where you are invited to drink from the Buna source directly. This area has always served as shelter from earliest history, the caves on the rock-face above are an archaeologist’s playground with expeditions revealing rich prehistoric sites... if ever one can reach them...

It seems the mineral rich river valleys of Herzegovina often attract a hint of the mystical. To me, the region looks like prime territory for stories of faerys and water nymphs.  The truth is, this region has offered safety to persecuted peoples throughout history.  Located in the crossroads of West and East, near the busy trading ports of the Adriatic, the high rocky hills along winding emerald rivers were prime defensive features that served as multicultural havens for rejected and hunted minorities.

In dramatic Pocitelj, I learned about the old Bosnian Kingdom, the largest nation in the Balkans 13th and 14th centuries.  Rumour has it, the powerful Bosnians were also protectors of the mystical Cathars during the Albigensian Crusades, giving the persecuted Christians shelter in return for their knowledge and legendary riches. The hilltop ruined fortress can take hours to navigate but the views are unparalleled of the bright green valley below. Pocitelj is utterly inspiring, no wonder it is home to a colony of international artists.

To add to the mysterious nature of this long lost Medieval Kingdom, the necropolis of Stolac is filled with row after row of monolithic-like stone tombs. To say they are strange is an understatement: in a rich valley plain, solid white stone blocks are decorated with line drawings of warriors, hunt scenes, dancing and religious symbols.  Breathtakingly beautiful, to me they seem like a meeting place of Celtic, Christian and even cave art.

Stolac turned out to be one of my favourite places in this trip.  The necropolis was fascinating and the nearby caves of Badanj are decorated richly with pre-historic paintings.  The town proper has been settled along a bend of the Bregava River, with beautiful cascades and water mills, and topped with a rather scary looking fortress with intact walls and towers.  It also helped that I had the most delicious lunch at a local buregdzinica and tea house: a perfectly think pastry, soft juicy minced lamb filling, the best burek I have ever tasted!

In the towns, the magic of the natural environments subside a bit.  I noticed that residents of neighboring streets fly opposing flags, Croat, Bosnian and Serb, to mark their territory, the seeming peace of the Dayton Agreement seeming extremely precarious. Feelings of nationalism still run high twenty years after the break-up of Communist Yugoslavia and the brutal civil war that tore this region raw. Even at the spiritual centre of Medugorje I find these dangerous lines drawn.

At its most powerful, I visited the Kravice Falls, considered one of the most beautiful in BiH.  Even with snow in the ground, the pristine mineral-rich pool at the foot of the waterfalls was inviting, albeit I didn’t actually venture for a swim. This place in particular made me want to return to experience it at the height of a warm and lush Spring.

The end of this journey took me through the towns of Konjic famed for its Ottoman architecture, and Jablanica.  The later has a peculiar monument to the genius of military strategy that was Tito -- a derelict and destroyed railway bridge hanging precariously over a river canyon, a striking reminder to a not too long Communist past. Jablanica is also known for its delicious free range lamb, but my excellent guide from Herzog Day Tours had a better idea that day.

In the hills around Mostar, I enjoyed the incredibly tender and juicy roast lamb of Herzegovina. Feed on free-range pastures on the hilltop plateaus, completely organic and slow roasted, my main dish was a delight. I can’t say I enjoyed the Herzegovina red as much, but was happy to have tried it, I was after all at one of the oldest wine regions in the world. A fitting final meal for a thoroughly enjoyable trip.

EAT: Udovice  (The Widows) in Sretnice, near Mostar).

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This fork skated over stone in Mostar

I arrived in Mostar in a gloomy Winter afternoon. It was my birthday.  It was cold, grey and raining but even that didn’t keep the saturated emerald green of the Neretva river from fading. Nor did the famous bridge over it, the Stari Most, fail to gleam and shine. Mostar was my first stop in a long-awaited trip to Bosnia & Herzegovina (BiH).  

Many tourists visit the city on day or overnight trips via Croatia. But I wanted to make my whole itinerary about the Herzegovina region, and drove from Sarajevo, experiencing the incredible differences in altitude and geology in the two and half hour journey that took me from the heights of the Dinaric Alps to an unmistakable Mediterranean climate.

I booked my stay at Pansion Cardak to take advantage of its incredible location adjacent to the river promenade below Stari Most. What I found was a charming small house with the most helpful and efficient hospitality. I had emailed in advance to ask my host Suzanna to arrange for a guide and added a specific request for a bit of a local flair.

My tour with Savohic Camil of Herzeg Day Tours was exactly that. Definitely not a traditional guide, he took me around the city narrating the place with great knowledge -- obviously a self-taught historian, his enthusiasm for the ancient and rich history of BiH shone through. 

My first impression, that wet winter evening was of a town trying to showcase it’s glory days, and downplay its recent troubles.  The old Ottoman centre of Mostar was rebuilt meticulously after the civil war of 1992-95, using accurate historical drawings housed in the imperial archives in Istanbul. It is hard to imagine the conflict that tore through and devastated the region, but there is also a weary feeling from strolling through what is effectively a ‘museum’ town, the short stretch that most visitors experience has more souvenir shops than actual homes.

Beginning roughly at the riverbed promenade on the west bank, with dramatic views of the Stari Most, the usual tourist route is a two hour stroll that takes one past most landmarks. First on my list was Kriva Cuprija or ‘Crooked Bridge, the smaller and older model rising over one of the many creeks and tributaries of the Neretva, and which served as a ‘tester’ engineering experiment to be replicated over the main river, in the form of Stari Most.

From there we walked along a completely empty stretch of Onescukova, the main shopping avenue that leads to the ‘gates’ of Ottoman Mostar. We finally arrived at the castle watchtower where my host pointed out the Bosnian Kingdom flag flying over the old city approach, instead of what he refers to as the ‘Dayton Agreement’ flag (the national flag of BiH).

It seems the locals prefer to showcase their rich heritage, the Bosnian Kingdom was, afterall, the most powerful nation of the Balkans in Medieval times. Apparently, modern politics is still too controversial for using contemporary flags -- there is some neutrality in a common past to be proud of.

From the perfect vantage points of the watchtower, I took some stunning pictures of Stari Most in the light rain and fadding light.  Crossing the incredibly polished angled stones of the structures proves a bit more daunting, I slipped left and right and skated through the cold rain, never once letting go of the handrail which I suspect was installed for tourists like myself.

Stari Most is arguably the most famous landmark of BiH.  Images of the bridge destroyed during the war, and then rebuilt in peace resonate with anyone who followed the 90′s conflict on news reports all over the world. Surprisingly, I learned that in the Ottoman heyday, the bridge served as a minaret for the mosque adjacent, and the call to prayer was done from its high point, to resonate across the river valley.

Through the old bazaar I learned of other hidden gems, beautiful mosques, pretty views and grand buildings which were once the houses of powerful families. In the Koski Mehmed-Pasha Mosque, I discovered a another great photo spot, around the old burial ground, by the river at the back of the main building, for the idyllic sunset pictures of the famed bridge. 

On the way back, my guide stopped to take a quick picture of a new graffiti on a humble building facade. He explained it was a new portrait of one of Mostar’s generals during the 1992-94 conflict, a war hero and defender of the old city during the siege.

We visited the old clock tower and (arguably) the most stunning mosque in Mostar, the Karadjoz-bey, also meticulously rebuilt post-war.  I returned that evening exhausted and underwhelmed, I admit. I had expected a vibrant place that reflected its mixed-cultural past. Instead I had found a pretty,pristine and hardly lived in UNESCO World Heritage Center.

The next morning I woke determined to explore more. At the break of dawn, I went to the empty river promenade to get my token pictures of Stari Most in perfect light. And then began a second tour. 

By (my favourite) crooked bridge, I turned north to visit the nearby Synagogue and Franciscan Church, and learned that the city remains divided culturally, a result of a war that pushed all Bosniak Muslims to the East Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian city, and forced all Christian Croats (and later) Serbian Orthodox to the western side. I began noticing that preferred flags on the western bank were those of modern day Croatia and Serbia, not BiH. Sectarianism is still ripe.

I once again walked down the Onescukova, this time, in bright daylight, the bullet ridden side facades of buildings were a bit more apparent. I stopped for some coffee in the one open cafe which was packed full of gossiping ladies. From Stari Most I followed a few locals on their morning grocery run, only to discover the stunning, even if derelict, buildings of the Austrian period along the avenues that run parallel and just east of the old bazaar.  

The war years are apparent here, cemeteries abound, buildings have been left shelled out.  But there is also a hubbub of activity, people living their lives, children on the way to school, and I much preferred this hubbub of activity to the pristine quiet of the old city preservation zone.

The sweet smell of fresh bread was wafting from every busy bakery and I could hardly resist a treat.  On my leisurely walk back I stopped three times, savouring a beautiful cheesy pastry and then tasting and repeating a divine chocolate stuffed bread roll.  The best gooey breakfast treat, it was my birthday after all... well eight hours past but just about :)

EAT: (Bakery) Pekara Rijad in  Brace Fejica; Udovica (The Widows) in  STAY: Pansion Cardak offers simple comfort with unbeatable hospitality and location. But the 1st floor rooms may be a challenge for anyone with mobility problems (stairs only), and I expect it will also be noisy during the main Sufi festivals as it is located next to a mosque.

[aforkinlondon]

This fork chooses Verona for a valentine

I often get asked which is Italy’s most romantic place: Florence, Venice, the Amalfi Coast, Tuscany, Rome...?  I hate this question because each of these places has its charms and chances throughout the year, and romance is just as much a result of a setting as it is of lovers playing their parts.

Yet hard pressed and tortured, I will always break for Verona. A surprising choice, immediate cliche as soon as it is named? But forget Romeo and Juliette, this city was named for love well before stars struck.  Heck, why else would Shakespeare have chosen it? Last time I checked, Venice had only The Merchant ;)

Verona is located in the Veneto region of Northern Italy.  It is a charming city of perfect size to wander about on foot and it manages to have an incredibly rich and well preserved architectural history which gives it UNESCO Work Heritage status. The wonder of Verona is that it basically combines major highlights of other Italian cities into a miniature ‘collection’, all neatly arranged along the slow winding Adige river.

The most imposing of the city’s hallmark’s is the Arena -- or baby colosseum, as I like to think of it -- the Roman amphitheatre in Piazza Bra still functions as an entertainment venue today. The virtually intact interiors hold concerts, fairs and a world-famous summer opera season. A short walk down via Guglielmo Oberdan leads to the Porta Bosari, a gated entrance to the old walled Roman city. Next to it, one of my favourite restaurants, 12 Apostoli, serves delicious and elegant meals, Cue the romance.

Vestiges of the Roman Empire are well preserved across the city, competing for attention next to beautiful Medieval and Gothic churches, lush formal gardens, Renaissance pallazi, imposing castles and one BIG fortress, and excellent art collections including a few great contemporary museums.

I love the contrast and superimposition of all these different styles and era. The heavenly artworks at San Nicolo church exists steps apart from the modern art Galleria dello Scudo. The imposing Duomo is a 15min walk to the first-century BC Ponte Pietra, a riverside Roman Theatre, smaller churches filled with priceless art -- I like San Giorgio in Braida, the Scala’s Santa Maria Antica and San Fermo with it’s beautiful bronze doors -- and the charming Giargino Giusti.

The city has beautiful green spaces, the largest of wich is the hilltop Santuario Madonna di Lourdes with its breathtaking views of the city and the snaking Adige. But I love the urban piazzi even more than the gardens and, in Verona, there are two that shine brightest.

The Piazza delle Erbe is the city’s market square.  It has been the centre of Verona since serving as the forum in Roman times and, today, it hosts a mixture of food and flower stalls, municipal frescoed palazzi, the Lamberti tower and one serene statue of the Madonna Verona.  It's a wonderful place to have a relaxed lunch and sample the region’s splendid risotto, or a pre-dinner aperitivo.

A quick crossing mid-square, under the hanging whale rib of the Arco della Costa, and the more austere Piazza della Signoria is revealed. A quieter space flanked with government buildings plays tribute to the city’s most celebrated resident, Dante Alighiere.

Dante lived in Verona during his exile from Florence in the Guelph and Ghibellines conflict. He wrote a large part of the Divine Comedy there, including the majority of his love ode to Beatrice, the Paradiso. Perhaps it is this real love story that planted the seed, perhaps it even inspired Shakespeare. For me, it just adds to the aura of a perfectly romantic evening wandering along the riverbend, in a perfectly soft-lit and utterly charming Verona.

EAT: Teodorico Re, 12 Apostolli, Maffei

[aforkinlondon]

This fork expects bread and finds roses in Estremoz

Our family trip to Alentejo started in Evora with a bang.  But we wanted to visit more of this stunning region and ended up following an old Medieval defensive line, a series fortified hilltowns that protected King and Country from the constant threat of (failed) invasions by their next door Castilian narch-enemies.

The current borders of Portugal were defined and established in the 13th century, making them the oldest fixed territorial lines in western Europe.  Yet the neighboring regions of modern day Spain posed a constant threat, especially the rather belligerent Castilians who found Portugal's vast southern plains a bit more hospitable to a Medieval invading army than the mountainous north.

Thus, the Alentejo quickly developed a wide system of castles and fortifications that would stop the enemy from advancing as soon as a threat was identified. The system of sentinel towns form three defensive lines running north to south, their glory days evidently in the far off past, but their beauty no less striking among the presently peaceful landscape of sheep pastures, olive groves and sunflower fields.

Our first stop was in Estremoz, One of the great Medieval centres build over a Moorish and (even older) Roman fortress.  The town is now a sleepy enclave better known for the excellent stone quarries than for any military exploits. Still the old fortress is an atmospheric place: a solitary marbled vantage point that invites far flung views on any typically sunny day.

I found Estremoz to be nothing less than charming. Easily explored in a half day, it has a well preserved historical centre, steeped in Medieval lure. A 13th century legend has it that the kindly Queen Elizabeth used to distribute food to the poor against her husband's frugal orders.  One day, while on a visit to Estremoz fortress, the King caught his wife with her skirts filled with bread loaves, ready for alms giving. As she was about to be confronted about her disobedience, a miracle occurred, the bread turned into roses and the wise (if stingy) King Denis was taught a lesson in charity.

From that moment on Queen Elizabeth became the Saintly Queen and Estremoz adopted her as a protector. One can still find her in the main Medieval square where, instead of manly statues of knights on horses, stands a white marbled Queen holding roses on her gown, keeping vigil next to the elegant chapel where her remains were laid to rest.

In the same square, the royal residence presides over the skyline.  Once a great sentinel fortress, today it has been refurbished into a Pousada named aptly after the Rainha Santa Isabel (the Saintly Queen). The historic hotel is an excellent place to stop for a traditional meal in a rather dramatic setting -- I had a deliciously filling meaty broth and some boar stew served on (you've guessed it) a bread bowl.

The best kept secret of Estremoz is the Pousada's watchtower which I believe is reserved for hotel guests or perhaps even restricted due to health and safety concerns. To be fair, it is only accessible along a long steep climb on tall and polished marble steps. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist slipping through and unlocking the small iron gate that barred my way. I must apologise to the hotel for being sneaky, but truly that view, from the very top of the tower, was completely worth it!

A few kilometers east lies the very different Vila Vicosa. Also once a military stronghold, it has had a visibly different fate to Estremoz which was doomed to decline once knightly chivalry became a thing of the past. The town is dominated by the Neo-Classical Ducal Palace of the last royal family of Portugal's monarchy, the House of Braganca.

Last and on the front line is the terrifying looking fortress of Elvas. Seriously dramatic, it is the largest bulwark fortification in the world, on the old enemy border, a mere 20km from Spanish Badajoz.

Elvas is impressive inside and out. Within the scary walls lies a rather charming city with beautiful churches, meandering residential streets, a castle and even a museum of contemporary art. Outside the walls, a second mammoth fortress named for Grace, with four levels of stone walls topped by a defiantly white washed and gleaming governor's residence, would be reason alone to visit. But Elvas also has other smaller towers, bastions and a 7km long four-leveled aqueduct. Wow!  

Most surprising was the solemn but elegant English Military Cemetery, dedicated to the fallen British servicemen that fought alongside Portugal against Napoleon in the Peninsular Wars. It almost looks out of place so delicate and quiet against a Medieval garrison town, but among so much talk of war, it is a reminder of that the there is also friendship between nations that share the same values of liberty and self-rule.

I spent many a line describing beautiful towns and have said little of the delicious regional cuisine. The Alentejo is a gastronomical playground. Fish, meat, seafood and oh so fresh veggies are prepared in simple, rustic yet divinely elegant flavours. The wines are first class, especially the rich reds.

As for the desserts, they come from a celebrated tradition of convent sweets -- I suspect the nuns of Portugal had an unhealthy addiction to sugar... one I will never ever judge them harshly for. Especially delicious are the 'filhos', a divinely inspired doughnut-like masterpiece, and the fluffy cloud-like 'encharcada'. Top notch!

[aforkinlondon]

This fork gets creeped in Evora’s chapel full of bones

Last Christmas, I planned a mini-recharging break to the Alentejo, Portugal's southern agricultural plains.  While the majority of my three night 'retreat' was spent relaxing in the blissful Convento do Espinheiro, I got enough of a glimpse of the stunning food, wine and scenery to plan a whole family winter trip this year.

Unable to resist, we started out at the Convento again, a bit out of the way but a worthy base to explore the historical city of Évora.  I have been saying for years that Portugal is the most underrated travel destination in Europe and Évora definitely tops my list of highlights.  It is welcoming, laid back and a treasure trove of culture... with a few unexpected surprises.

The Alentejo is a remarkably diverse region, flanked by the Tejo (Tagus) river in the north and beachy Algarve to the south, it manages to maintain the proud, pragmatic and charming identity that is typical of one of the most economically deprived provinces of western Europe.

People here still believe in working the earth hard, so that it may provide simple sustenance and pleasure. Traditional agricultural practices, first perfected by Medieval farmer monks, are experiencing a revival and the down-to-earth Alentejanos are at the forefront of a booming organic farming and artisanal industry. The region may have not invented the slow-food movement but it sure has turned it into the crown of its 'slow-life' culture.

Évora is quite the unique place.  It is a walled city yet it doesn't actually have a castle per say.  It served for centuries as one of the most important seats of the Catholic Church in Europe, so the 'palace' on top of the defensive hill which the wall protects is that of the archbishop. Even more surprising, once one reaches the hill, the main standing monument to is a remarkably well preserved Roman temple to Diana, the pagan goddess of the hunt.

The historic centre of Évora is easily walkable.  In a crisp sunny morning we drove through the city gates and parked as close to the top of the hill as possible.  The Temple of Diana struck a dramatic pose against a clear cobalt sky and we walked around it to take a peak at the ornate church of St John Evangelist in the Pousada de Loios, a traditional hotel converted from a 15th century monastery which in turn was built over a Moorish castle.

We then walked around the Roman ruins towards the archdiocese and the magnificent Sé Cathedral, the inside of which was a stark contrast of incense-stained black walls and vertiginous airy height, rich baroque gold leaf and cold Medieval stone. A climb up the bell tower provided an astonishing view across the vast Alentejo plains on this clear day.

On the way downhill, we meandered through the tight medieval 5 Outubro street, shopping for sharp green and fragrant extra virgin olive oil, hand-painted azulejo tiles and regional wines The Praça de Giraldo and City Hall were a hubbub of activity, a parade for the local fire brigade provided locals with much to cheer for. We turned towards the church at the western end of the square, past the colossal Roman torso and through the remains of the Roman thermae.

Five minutes later we were at the theater square looking for a hidden side street where one the country's great culinary institutions can be found: the restaurant O Fialho. All of best restaurants in the city remain family owned and refuse to expand out of their decade-old and tiny abodes, the love of the craft outweighs the love of profit. After a three-hour lunch of the most delicious regional specialties and some outstanding wine, we were in a desperate need of a slow digestive walk.

So we continued on along the city walls, past the convent of St Claire, and into the beautiful gardens of the Palace of D. Manuel.  The palace itself is a masterpiece of Portuguese Renaissance built in the Manuelino style, the gardens however steal the show, with a diverse set of flora that was introduced from colonial territories and groups of prancing peacocks roaming carefree among ruined follies.

Our little stroll lead us straight to the Church of St Francis which was, unfortunately, under restoration. Thankfully we were still allowed to visit the Chapel of Bones (literally made of of human bones), eerily walking under an entrance carved with the warning 'We bones that here are, for yours await', to admire this bizarre 16th century masterpiece of a lone monk who took to the somber spirit of the Counter-Reformation with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm.

Back in our car, we drove around the city, stopping at the university to explore the campus architecture and also visiting the majestic Água da Prata aqueduct. We had planned on a detour to the Cromlech of Almendres, a stone age complex with over 90 standing boulders forming a religious circle, but alas we lost track of time and night was falling. Good luck, methinks, one of the largest megalithic monuments in Europe should be reason enough for a return visit ;)

By dinner time we had had a full day of sightseeing and felt much rewarded by another gastronomical treat at Oliveira, a 5 table 'tasca' and my favourite restaurant in delicious Évora . Another feast followed, nom nom nom!!!

STAY: Convento do Espinheiro (pampering luxury), Hotel Riviera (budget, location and charm).

EAT: Tasquinha do Oliveira, O Fialho, Pastelaria Conventual. 

DO: climb the tower of the Sé Cathedral, stroll through the palace gardens, visit the unique Chapel of Bones.

[aforkinlondon]

This fork experiences winter at Kew

There is never a lack of things to do during the holiday season in London, from Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park to carols at St Martin in the Fields. So it isn't a small thing for me to find a new experience that breaks the mold and exceeds expectation. And yet that is what I found at Christmas at Kew.

The Royal Botanical Gardens lights up between December and January, and invites audiences for a rare evening, to admire an extraordinary display of light and art woven into the largest collection of living plants on earth.

Well, perhaps I am being a bit dramatic, in truth, the nightime experience was limited to the east side of this UNESCO World Heritage Site, following a circular route from Victoria Gate past the Pond, Conservatory, fairground and ending at Palmer House.

There was an abundance of warm drinks and sweet treats to keep the cold at bay, plus a small but homey selection of traditional British fare. I was thoroughly satisfied with a shared meal of pulled pork sandwiches, venison stew and chicken soup. 

Gourmet marshmallow stands were dotted around the circuit along conveniently located roasting pits: genius! The freshly made doughnuts with chocolate sauce in the fairgrounds were divine!

Deeper into the route we found ancient oaks decorated with dreamy chandeliers and reflecting mirror balls, and a grove of fairylight flowering trees. It would had been the perfect scene for a mid-summer dream had it not been so nippy. As was, it felt like a winter enchantment.

The entire display was a mixture of inspiration and whimsy. It never overdid the whole Christmas thing to a point of cheesy but it still managed to give a nod to the spirit of the season. 

I particularly enjoyed the colourful dream lanterns, where you could leave a wish for a stranger. They could have been fairy homes decorating this subtle land of wonders. Fairies would have fit right into the environment.

My other favourite was the collection of fire spheres around Palm House, almost hauntingly reflecting on its glass and iron surface, as classical music echoed from the Pond between it and No.1 House.

Kew is magical place in daylight, at night its seems enchanted but subdued, simple and truly beautiful. The best of British imagination, a perfect winter wonderland.

[aforkinlondon]

This fork goes sailing among ruins in Fethiye

On returning from my last visit to Istanbul, I thought it was a good occasion to revisit a trip from a few years ago, when two very capable friends invited me to go sailing in the Aegean coast of Turkey. 

A sailing holiday isn't always possible for those of us who don't have a skipper license -- which is where my multi-talented friends come in handy -- but many towns along the Mediterranean offer guided holiday options and Turkey has some of the best vessels managed by experienced and professional crews.

With my luck, I arrived in Fethiye ready to board a beautiful, and private, four-cabin sailboat. Our skippers lost no time in allocating tasks. Given it was the only thing I could possibly help with, I took the role of kitchen wench, alternating between scrubbing the deck in mornings and cooking dinner in the evenings.  The rest of the time, I simply (and uselessly) basked at the stunning sun and sea breeze.

Our group consisted mainly of helpless amateurs (took us more than 3 hours to go over the basic drills!) so our skippers decided to keep us close to shore, allowing us to dock near the modern comforts of marinas or choose protected bays to anchor during the evenings.

That is one of the great advantages of sailing along the coast of Fethiye, the proximity of neighboring towns allowed us to remain close to the coast and avoid too much nighttime turbulence for our inexperienced sea legs.  I was also most grateful for regular warm showers in well maintained dockside facilities and the occasional hiking trips in isolated coastal cliffs.

Fethiye is served by Dalaman airport and it is located near the better known town of Bodrum. It is a small city with an unremarkable but welcoming modern centre which added to my surprise when we discovered ancient Lycian ruins while on a short hike.

Towering over Fethiye, a breathtaking complex of cave tombs carved onto the cliff side has strong parallels to Nabatean Petra.  The heritage is incredibly well preserved and the main monument, the Tomb of Amyntas, is particularly impressive because of its sheer size, intricate decorative detail and, not the least, because it can be admired close-up and without the usual horde of tourists.

The magic of these sparkling emerald waters does owe a bit to the bygone remnants of ancient worlds, of characters who populate the epic odysseys in my imagination.  Even in the most remote and hidden coves we found ruins from the Greek heyday, slowly decaying into the sea which they once mastered over.

This area has long been inhabited and it boasts many archeological sites, including the Ancient Roman City of Kadyanda (complete with baths, theater and carved tombs) and the abandoned monastic complex of Afkule.  I never made it to these treasures, the sea called and none of us wanted to wander too far from it.

Between gently rocking in our sea-home and enjoying uncrowded hikes, this was possibly one of the most relaxing holidays I have ever had. Everything felt 'gentle'... I have no other way of putting it.  And I didn't even experience any sea sickness, I am determined this helped along by my healthy diet of fresh ginger, wild-picked lemons, Turkish mint and just-caught seafood. Nom nom nom!

[aforkinlondon]

This fork splits between Asia and Europe in Istanbul

My latest trip to Istanbul was the perfect opportunity to take in a few new sites and to revisit my favourites with a new perspective. Instead of staying in the tourist centre of Sultanahmet, I opted for a boutique hotel in Osmanbey, in the Nisantasi quarter of the European district of Sisli, a short walk from Taksim Square.

Osmanbey is a perfect base, the neighborhood has a convenient metro stop which allowed me to avoid the worse of Istanbul's notorious traffic jams. It also has a very residential vibe, a great insight into everyday life in the metropolis. The city is incredibly safe and friendly so I planned out a few walking itineraries for my long weekend stay.

Arriving in the afternoon, I spent the early evening strolling along Nisantasi's shopping district, ogling at the art galleries and high end fashions on Abdi Ipekci Street, and coveting the delicious looking pastries in the beautiful Art Nouveau cafes so typical of this area.

Having worked up an appetite, I meet a friend for dinner in Bebek at a hidden and informal eaterie with a distinctly urban vibe. Like any other global city, Istanbul offers a vibrant and diverse restaurant scene which goes beyond the kabab or dorma cliche, Mangerie is a great example of the combination of traditional hospitality and culinary innovation. We stayed out way past my bedtime, enjoying excellent conversation and sipping cocktails by the sea.

The next (early) morning I began my tour by visiting the Ataturk Museum, a short walk from my hotel. Afterwards, I took a leisurely 30min stroll along the Halaskargasi Caddesi (avenue) to Gezi Park and Taksim Square. From there, I found an already bustling Istikal Caddesi, one of Istanbul's main pedestrian shopping streets, and continued on past many an impressive looking embassy before reaching Galata Tower.

The old Italian merchant quarter is as touristy as it gets, but the side streets along the way have become a haven of independent boutiques and charming cafes. I found some great quirky design stores in Serdari Ekrem Sokak, and had a pleasant early lunch at the cosy Nikol concept store and cafe. After sipping a whipped-cream topped coffee, I made a quick stop at the Jewish Museum before boarding a ferry in Kasimpasa pier to Fatih district.

Arriving at the little cluster of impressive Eastern Orthodox churches just north of the Sultan Selim Complex, I was too excited to stop even at the renowned Greek Chruch of St George. So excited, it seems, I dropped my Nikon's lens on the stone-hard pavement: it cracked, my heart shattered, I was about to visit two of the best preserved collections of Byzantine mosaics in Istanbul and no longer had a camera.

Luck left me completely, in the Pammakaristos Monastery Complex, I circled the parakklesion, the most charming building in Istanbul, before realising the museum was closed and the caretaker of the now Fethiye Mosque would not allow me to enter what was once one the main church building. I continued on towards the imposing remains of the city walls until I arrived at the Kariye Museum.

The ancient Church of the Holy Saviour in Chora is not the biggest nor greatest, its fame is due only to the fact that it holds the most intact collection of ancient mosaics in the city, undisturbed even after the Ottomans converted the building into a mosque. The 'no photography' sign in the now-museum served a little comfort. Devastion set in.

I spent the next hour wandering inconsolable through residential streets lined with wood-clad houses, past the Fatih Mosque, the Valens Aqueduct, and the (oh yes, closed!) ancient kitchens of the majestic Suleymaniye Mosque, until I slowly got revived by the hustle and bustle of the Bazaar Quarter... okay, okay, I stopped a few times to eat some sweet things, but what else was a girl to do? I had all but fully recovered my happiness by the time I left the Book Bazaar. Simple things...

A quick detour, a visit to Rustem Pasha Mosque near Galata Bridge, where the building's Iznik tile interior did not disappoint, it is a brilliant place to admire the blue floral and geometric decorations made famous by the more crowded Blue Mosque in Sultanahmet. For another 'mini-version', I darted across the historical centre, past the Yerebatan Sarayi  -- the hauntingly beautiful Roman Cisterns -- to the Little Haghia Sophia, SS. Sergius Bacchus.

As I turned towards Seraglio's Point, the Blue Mosque, the columns of the Hippodrome and Santa (or Haghia) Sophia come dramatically into view. I passed the little mushroom topped domed of the Baths of Roxelana on my way to my favourite landmark, a trip to Istanbul would never be complete without a visit to Holy Wisdom.

The Haghia Sophia complex is huge, the park around the building has several archeological areas and ornate ablution fountains. The exterior of the church-turned-mosque-turned-museum seems an impossibly heavy mount of brick and stone. Only inside does the magic of the building become obviously, divine light shining through and glittering on marble and gilded mosaics. I climbed onto the gallery, where the crowds are thinner, and looked down in an admiration that never fails to engulf me.

After that long long day, I strolled to the Gulhane Park outside of Topkapi Palace and took a seat on the grass by Haghia Eirene to enjoy some munchies I bought along the way. I waited patiently for my appointment time at the nearby Ayasofya Hurrem Sultan Hammam, the magnificent bath house and spa built in the 16th century by the incomparable architect Sinan for the Empress Roxelana. I could no longer remember why I ever needed a camera ...

The next day I started off with an early brunch at Unter in Karakoy, a very urban and trendy neighborhood that wouldn't be so out of place in the heart of Berlin. After lunch, I took a 10min ferry to the Asian side, to Kadikoy.

I wandered the waterfront and admired the views across the Sea of Marmara, before entering a busy Kadikoy market. After a while I jumped into a taxi to my final destination, the famous (and infamous) Sakirin Mosque, Istanbul's most modern prayer hall.

Sakirin was designed by Husrev Tayla but it is its interior decoration by Zeynep Faillioglu that has earned it international attention: it's the first mosque interior created by a female designer. The modern architecture of this building contrasts starkly with the nearby 16th century Valide Atik Mosque, another Mimar Sinan masterpiece.

I leave Asia from the Uskudar ferry terminal adjacent to the Mihrimah Sultan Mosque, a beautiful ride along the Bosphorus, past the Ciragan and Dolmabahce Palaces, and the lonely Leader's Tower. Back in Sultanahmet, I enjoyed some lovely mint tea in an outdoor cafe flanked by the awe-inspiring flood-lit Blue Mosque and the Haghia Sophia.

STAY: Pera Palace (grand dame of hotels that housed first-class passengers of the Orient Express), Ciragan Palace Kempinski (home to the last Ottoman Princes), The Four Seasons Sultanahmet (arguably small but incomparably located between the Haghia Sophia and the Topkapi Palace), The Vault Karakoy (for hip design and boutique service), Empress Zoe (a family-run tried and tested gem in Sultanahmet). EAT: Lonkanta Maya (Karakoy), Unter (Karakoy), Menagerie (Bebek), Rumeli Cafe (Sultanahmet), Ahirikapi Balikçisi Fish Tavern (Sultanahmet), Asitane Ottoman Cuisine (Fatih). DO: Walk up to the higher galleries of the Haghia Sophia for the best views of the church's ceiling mosaics and to avoid the crowds; take a ferry across the Bosphorus or the Golden Horn; stroll along on the city's vibrant shopping streets in Nisantasi or Kadikoy.

[aforkinlondon]

This fork counts: 8 essentials about Istanbul

Istanbul may not be my favourite city on earth but it holds the strongest claim for the 'greatest': it was intended as 'great' at the moment of its inception and has never faltered in its prominence since. Founded as the heart of the New Rome, it was the capital of three of history's largest empires, before becoming the first city of Turkey.

Istanbul is a massive sprawling metropolis, the largest urban centre in Europe. It is a bit daunting to manage as a first time visitor, but made all the easier when armed with a this essential guide:

Europe, Asia, Middle East? Turkey is located mostly over the Anatolian plains of the Asian continent, on the northern edge of the Middle East, but Istanbul holds the country firmly within Europe, from where its earliest cultural influences arrived. The city straddles the Bosphorus, the body of water that effectively divides Europe and Asia: on the west lies the Thracian side which serves as the administrative and cultural centre, on the east, the Anatolian neighborhoods of Uskudar and Kadikoy were once trading centres between Europe, Asia and Africa.

The Golden Horn is not the Bosphorus Most first time visitors to Istanbul confuse the Golden Horn with the Bosphorus, they eargerly flock to one of the many bridges (or tunnel) between Suthanamet's historical centre and Taksim Square or the Galata Tower in Beyoglu, believing they have made the great continental crossing. Actually, the Golden Horn is only the smaller estuary and deep water harbour on the European side, while the Bosphorus is a massive strait, one of the world's busiest shipping lanes. The easiest way to access the Asian side is to take a public ferry or, alternatively, a long drive to Ortakoy will lead to the impressive Bosphorus Bridge and Uskudar, in Asia proper.

Getting around With a population of fourteen million, Istanbul forms the largest urban centre in Europe. The vast sprawling city is divided by two major bodies of water, speckled with hills and maze-like streets, and notorious for traffic jams (especially on its tunnels and bridges). Walking in the historical centres is the best option as most sites are located within convenient distances. Taxis are cheap and abundant but best used for short journeys and with a handy map, as drivers don't always speak English.

The metro is easy to use and a dream in efficiency but it only serves one stop per quarter, while the tram system is a great option when travelling in and between adjoining neighborhoods. The best kept secret though is the well-functioning and regular ferry service, water transport is fast and offers the most scenic views, hard to beat when jetsetting between old and new, Europe and Asia.

Four seasons Turkey is not the Middle East. Much like its European and Central Asian neighbors, it has four seasons, and it is best to remember that Istanbul is at the same latitude as New York City. In the summer, it gets very hot and in the winter it snows. The one persistent factor is high humidity which often translates into eerie if beautiful foggy mornings. 

A tale of three cities Istanbul was born of a settlement in Seraglio Point, first established in the Neolithic and settled as a Thracian (ancient Greek) acropolis and the trading port of King Byzas. It wasn't until the great Emperor Constantine moved his capital from Rome and established Constantinople in 330BC, that all neighboring settlements were joined together to form the great imperial city.

As Rome declined in the West, Contantinople or Nea Roma became the bustling centre of a Roman Christian Empire and at times the richest and largest city in the world. But it suffered a decline in the Middle Ages, as European crusader fever brought travelling armies to its doors, on their way to Jerusalem. In the 1200s a Latin Empire replaced the Eastern Orthodox seat of power with a Western Catholic emperor, and the city was devastated by warfare.

By the late 13th century, Byzantium was reestablished albeit weakened, it never recovered its past glory and by 1453 the great Sultan Mehmed II finally breached Byzantine defences and proclaimed the city the Islamic capital of his Ottoman Empire. As such, it flourished until the Ottamans joined the loosing side in World War I. The defeat broke the empire apart and during a brief period the winning nations of Britain, France and Italy conducted a de facto occupation

The founding of the Turkish Republic saw the birth of a new era, Kemal Mustafa Ataturk, the father of modern Turkey, moved the administrative capital closer to the Anatolian heartland, to Ankara, but kept Istanbul as the first city, the crown jewel of modern secular Turkey.

The Asian side The Asian side of Istanbul is perhaps the less visited by tourists who flock to Sultanahmet instead. Yet it is well worth exploring for a different perspective on Anatolian culture and some of the most stunning churches and mosques, away from the tourist crowds. The best known landmark is the Kiz Kulesi or Maiden's Tower (or Leander's Tower) located off the coast of Uskudar, a residential neighborhood dominated by the Camlica Hill, Istanbul's highest and best view point.

Neighboring Kadikoy is a cool and modern residential area with two of the best shopping streets in Istanbul, Bahariye and Bagdat Street, both of which are picturesquely adorned with beautiful neo-classical architecture. Kadikoy is also known for its daily food markets -- delicious and much more authentic than the old city bazaars -- and a very laid back caffe culture.

The heart of a republic Taksim Square is the heart of the secular republic in Istanbul. A symbol of the modern Turkey, it is located in the eastern or 'new' side of the Golden Horn. To the north of the square, past Gezi Park, lie the trendy neiborhoods of Nisantasi and Osmandbey where excellent museums, art galleries and delicious eateries tell of the city's modern history. To the West, Besiktas is a buzzing area, its shoreside streets packed with cafes and bars popular with young professionals, this is one of the best nightlife spots.

For first time visitors, walking from Taksim Square along Istikal Cadesi to Galata square is a must. In a short twenty minute stroll, the pedestrian avenue passes charming and less crowded mosques, churches and museums with a distinctly European flair, before arriving at the heart of the old trading settlements at the Venetian Tower of Galata which offers an incredible view over the strait, towards Sultanahmet.

Where empires converge The old Istanbul covers the administrative heart of Byzantium and the Ottoman city. One of the three main areas to visit is the Bazaar Quarter, where a maize-like network of covered streets ushers shoppers between the Grand Bazaar and the smaller spice and books depots, all of which are located in the shadow of the splendid Suleymaniye Mosque.

In Seraglio's Point, the peninsula that stretches out to meet the Sea of Marmara and the Golden Horn Strait, ancient churches sit neighboring the grand Topkapki Palace, built over the remains of the Byzantine Wall defenses. But the crown jewel lies adjacent in Sultanahmet, the old Roman hippodrome flanked by tremendous monuments of bygone empires: the Roman Basilica Cisterns, the breathtaking Blue Mosque and the incomparable Haghia Sophia.

Holy Wisdom It has been called the most perfect building ever made. The dome of the Ayasofya (Haghia Sophia or Divine Wisdom) is still considered a marvel of engineering, its light airy interiors defy the bulk of mass isolating it from the world outside -- it brought the conquering Ottoman Muslim Emperor Mehmed II to his knees, its beauty incomparable, a veritable divine inspiration that has been church, mosque and now a museum for all faiths.

In no other monument on earth have conquering hordes been so consistently awed by the art, technology and knowledge of defeated peoples, so humbled that they lovingly preserve and adopt the customs and cultures they once sought to destroy. That perhaps is why the Haghia Sophia so well defines its city, the greatest testament of Istanbul's power as a centre of converging cultures. In that sense, it embodies what the ultimate city should be: a place of exchange of goods and ideas. Holy wisdom indeed!

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This fork plays posh in the Italian Riviera

I had an exceedingly busy September. After spending the height of summer in Britain, I seemed to have schedule way too much travelling for one month... and very little blogging. But I am back on track now and ready for part two of the Ligurian coast.

The Italian word 'Riviera' has been hijacked by every European country with a Mediterranean shore, to describe ritzy resort towns tailoring to the rich and famous. It is most commonly used to refer to the Cote D'Azur, the posh seaside playgrounds between Nice and St Tropez, yet as far as I am concerned, the 'true' Riviera is firmly located in Italy.

Sun-filled crystal blue coves, picturesque fishing villages, the Italian Riviera is a haven of undeniable traditional charm. From Santa Margherita to Portofino, Albegna to Sanremo, the area offers an incredibly balanced mix of refinement and rustic environments. It serves better as an exclusive escape than a glamorous see-and-be-seen destination (albeit there is a little bit of that too).

The main gateway to the area is the maritime port of Genoa.  From there, the question always beckons: which is best, east or west? I choose east, travelling alternatively from the Cinque Terre, a short 45min train ride from Monterosso al Mare to Santa Margherita Ligure. Not much of a distance but a complete change of environment.

While the villages of the Cinque Terre offer a laid back rustic feel, Santa Margherita is equally relaxed but much more sophisticated. I had traded the rural promontory villages for some easy going luxury. .Arriving at lunch time , we found the most excellent enoteca, the strangely named Fury Goose, and immediately made it our HQ. 

The friendly staff gave us excellent advice on which wines to taste and which attractions to explore. Being so very close to the harbour, at the very centre of town, made it a convenient early, mid and late afternoon refreshment stop. The small towns of the riviera are best explored leisurely.

In our first day in Santa Margherita Ligure, we went for a relaxed stroll, alternating between some casual window shopping, people watching and completing the main tourist route between the harbour and its small castle, the main Piazza Caprera and Basilica Santa Margherita d'Anthiochia, and the hilltop Villa Durazzo. The gardens of the patrician villa were hosting an artisan market, a bucolic setting with perfect views for our blissfully slow afternoon.

After an excellent seafood and pasta dinner at a small family-run trattoria, we took a cab to neighboring Rapallo where we had chosen a rather retro seaside hotel. In the evening it was all golden age and la dolce vitta, in the morning... well, not even the most discerning tastes could find fault with the view from our balcony.

On a sunny day two we became a bit more ambitious and took to sea. The plan was to spend the morning in Portofino then perhaps venture to the watery depths near Camogli, to see the submerged statue of Christ of the Abyss. We arrived at the famed blue cove very much NOT in style, our public ferry meandering between high class saiboats and yachts, screaming 'the day trippers are here'. Oh well, one does as one can ;)

Portofino is at the heart of a national park and marine reserve, this small peninsula may be known for glitz and glamour but, in truth, it is equally ideal for a good hearty hike. After a quick and ridiculously expensive cappuccino in the harbour, we did just that: double time climb to the Genoan Castello Brown, past the Chiesa San Giorgio we walked all the way to the tip of the promontory to the Faro.

We had hoped to hike through the national park to the Abbazia di San Frutuoso (1hr) and even all the way to San Rocco (1.5hrs) but an unexpected rain storm sent us to an early lunch at the Taverna del Marinaio instead. Plan B was then to retun to Santa Margherita on foot (1hr).

But while we did manage to explore the northern Baia Canone and the beautifully secluded perched villas on the bay, the rain made any walking utterly unpleasant. Naturally, the moment we boarded our return ferry from Portofino, the sky cleared, alas, no one dared to complain about this stunning voyage in the Sea of San Frutuoso.

Instead we docked at the Santa Margherita beachside and went straight to 'HQ' for a warm boozy capuccino alla nocciola, followed by aperol spritz, followed by one...two bottles of Italy's finest reds. It was our last night in Ligure and we had to reconcile a feeling of blissful satisfaction and the sadness of it all coming to an end.

EAT:Il Faro (Santa Margherita), Taverna del Marinaio (Portofino)

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This fork eats: Meatopia 2014

This weekend I followed in the footsteps of Charles Dickens, pirates and a tiger to the London Docklands, to attend Meatopia, the much anticipated newcomer in London’s food festival calendar. I luv, luv, luv food festivals! It's the choice that normally gets me, so one may wonder why I would go to a meat-only event. Well, for two reasons:

First, location, the event was held at the Tobacco Dock, at the heart of East London's foodie revival. The Wapping Project (food meets art in abandoned hydraulic plant), Italian grocers Gastronomica and an installment of Feast have made the short hop on the overground to Wapping well worth the trip, the neighborhood is definitely building up its street cred.

Secondly, a commitment from those people who count. Meatopia comes to London via NYC, where it was started by food writers and led by chefs (they have a manifesto). Those involved participate out of love for the trade, a real buy-in from the experts.

Tertulia's crew lovingly preparing the paella de cerdo

The result is an event that exudes a true community feel, easy-going and inviting, nothing too precious or serious (except for the quality of the food!). Of course the location helped — Wapping still maintains a real maritime feel, mixed in grit and toughness.

Afterall, the two best known landmarks in the neighborhood are a Hawksmoor church and Execution Dock. No one was going to make a fuss if I spilled sauce all over myself, as long as I licked my fingers with gusto!

While the offer was not huge (twenty restaurants with one dish each), and lines were often too long, there was a nice balance between creative preparations and good old traditional methods, in addition to a surprising range of meats.

Most of all, the genuine enthusiasm mixed well with the bbq smoke to create a truly festive environment. I wish this could be a two day shindig, to allow for a more complete exploration of both the location and food.

Junya Yamasaki of Koya manning the grill

From the dishes I did managed to try, the clear front runners were Junya Yamasaki’s venison sashimi, the ox heart from Ceviche and Seamus Mullen’s paella de cerdo.

After three hours of determined eating, I stumbled back to the train station wondering how the event will evolve next year and how soon I can get tickets for 2014!

DATES: (updated) 6th-7th September 2014

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This fork runs paths between the Cinque Terre

I have been to the Cinque Terre a few times and love this region of the Italian coastline for the simplicity it offers.  As the name suggest, the five fishing villages perched on seaside cliff rocks are located on the eastern side of the Riviera di Levante, an area of outstanding beauty, it provides walkers with some of the most stunning coastal trails in Europe.

The five hamlets -- Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza and Monterosso al Mare -- are easily accessible, trains from the closest hubs of Florence, Milan and Genova to La Spezia and a quick change to the regional service will take around two hours. Once there, a regular rail service run by the park authority connects the villages throughout the day.  There is also a scenic ferry that runs all the way to Portovenere and allows for great shots of the precariously perched villages from the sea.

The Cinque Terre National Park offers a visitor card that includes free unlimited journeys on the regional train, access to the walking trails, and a map explaining routes.  It is super cost effective and all proceeds go towards park maintenance. Different trail options are provided for various fitness levels and time frames, walking and hiking in the park is not permitted at night, so it may take a few days of village hopping to complete the harder circuits.

The easier blue route or Sentierro Azzuro takes about 4-6hours of relaxed walking to complete.  It can comfortably be completed in a day, perfect for a morning start and lunch/beach break scheduled between Manarola and Vernazza.  Smaller trails also run from each village to higher more scenic points and these are good options to explore if the traditional sentierro is not challenging enough, or if it proves too crowded.

The Red Trail or High Path is the most spectacular, running the full 25km from Portovenere to Levanto along the mountain ridge.  It is for the serious walker, no day tourist are to be found, yet the views are the best in the Cinque Terre.  In normal circumstances, both circuits connect at certain points so that visitors may meander between the two routes at pleasure.  However, since the 2012 winter landslides, it is recommended that walkers always check with park authorities to see which trails are open and safe at the time of visit.

Most visitors arriving from La Spezia use Riomaggiore as their gateway, a larger town with all necessary amenities and good accommodation options.  It is built on a slopping hill so the higher part of town is normally quieter and away from the crowds, with lovely views of the sea and cliff-side vineyards.  On the lower side, by the fishing boat dock, one can find quaint little restaurants and a rocky beach tucked away to the left of the cliff side.  Beware of the sea though, Riomaggiore is very exposed without a natural bay so the water is rough year-round.

A short 20min walk away is Manarola, the smallest of the 'Cinque', a charming hamlet perched above a small bay from where fishing boats are docked to rest.  There are excellent restaurants in this town and an artificial cement pier eases into the sea so there is a good swim to be had too.

Corniglia is the central enclave, famous for an approach that includes 365 steps (do not despair, there is a bus service too), it is the only village with no direct access to the sea.  It also happens to be my favourite, Corniglia provides a much calmer setting, with excellent eateries and enotecas (wine bars) dramatically located high above a rocky coast.  The local Gothic church of San Pietro is a significant monument and the views from the Belvedere are stunning.

Considered the prettiest of these very pretty towns, Vernazza slowly smooths into a protected natural bay.  This ancient Roman settlement has a pleasant small beach, the bright yellow church of Santa Margherita di Antiochia anchors a charming piazza with a natural half-circle shape.  It is a very picturesque setting that offer a very scenic walk up to the high point at a ruined castle. 

The biggest town is the westerly Monterosso al Mare which has two separate sections, a new area by the train station with a large stretch of beach, and an older village on the east side of the cliff that is a bit more charming.  Monterosso is relatively flat so easy to navigate, it also has excellent accommodation options and divine restaurants serving seafood and Ligurian specialties.

If time permits, easy day trips may be managed from the Cinque Terre, including a ferry ride to Portovenere on the southern tip of the Riviera. The views from the sea are pretty spectacular and Portovenere is a lovely, albeit larger, town with incredible history and a significant castle to explore.  Then again, remaining in the hamlets to enjoy the slow pace of life may be just as enticing an option, after those long demanding walks.

The Cinque Terre can be visited throughout the year, but winter is cold and rainy and many walking trails may be closed for safety.  Late spring offers the perfect weather but it can get crowded, summer may be a bit too hot for long walks thus, for me, Autumn is just perfect... specially during the grape harvest!

  STAY: Casa dei Limoni (Monterosso al Mare) EAT: Ristorante Belvedere, Gastronomia di San Martino (Monterosso al Mare); La Gata Flora, Cantina de Mananan, Alberto Gelateria (Corniglia)

Travel date: Spring 2012