SARAH DAWSON
The following articles are copyright to SARAH DAWSON, and may not be reproduced in any form without her consent in writing.
First published in The Guardian Unlimited, 14 August 2003
Famed for its snooty vendeuses, shopping in the French capital can be tough on the single girl. Which is where a new companion service comes in, says Sarah Dawson.
Hitting the streets of Paris with the latest guide book isn't much use when it doesn't fit inside your clutch bag. That's why a new package called Just Between Us is just the ticket. Run by the salubrious Hôtel Meurice on the Rue de Rivoli, this service introduces you to a Parisienne girlfriend. There to help, but not in an overwhelming way, fluent in English, but encouraging when you parlez a bit of Français, your Parisienne companion knows and loves the city like the back of her Louis Vuitton handbag.
If you fancy an elite shopping trip around Fauberg, she'll steer you towards the funkiest boutiques. Want to do lunch in the city's de rigeur resto/bars? She'll take you there. Ever wanted to go to a world-famous joaillerie? She'll get you an exclusive appointment. Want to meet a Parisian artist? Pas de problème.
With the Hôtel Meurice conveniently located in the heart of the Right Bank, a mere stiletto's throw from all the trendy boutiques, any self-respecting shopaholic's afternoon should start on the Rue de Castiglione, followed by the Avenue Montaigne and designer heaven in the Rue de Fauberg-Saint-Honoré, or Fauberg as it is affectionately known by the locals.
My new friend, Emilie, and I met for lunch in the Jardin d'Hiver at the Meurice. She had a Caesar salad, and I had filet de rouget barbet, légumes niçois à l'huile d'olive (that's red mullet, vegetables and olive oil to you and me). Over coffee we excitedly discussed our plans for the afternoon; shopping, afternoon tea, followed by some prerequisite pampering back at the hotel.
Not only did Emilie direct me to the kind of boutiques that aren't listed in the average guide book, she was also adept at managing any frostiness from shop assistants. I was quickly seduced by window after window of tantalising garments, shoes and beauty products: Annick Goutal, Vanessa Bruno, Stephane Marais, Rodolphe Menudier, Christian Lacroix, to name but a few.
Shopping is a tiring business and after a couple of hours things were starting to blur. It was time for tea at one of Paris's most fashionable cafes. And Ladureé, on Rue Royale, is certainly the place to be; even the waitresses are sporting this season's hottest print - polka dots on their pinnies. As the evening drew near, Emilie left me with a list of places to party that night, including Hôtel Costes, a favourite with George Clooney and Gwyneth Paltrow, Buddah Bar and a selection of venues in Oberkampft (the equivalent of London's Hoxton).
Early the next morning we were sipping coffee at Les Deux Magots, the trendy Saint-Germain-des-Prés cafe. Although Paris is synonymous with art, getting a true sense of life as an artist in Montmartre is somewhat lacking in authenticity. A cartoon version of yourself with lips like Mick Jagger is not the kind of art one wishes to take home. So Emilie had arranged a meeting with Parisian artiste peintre, Christophe Fity, at his studio in Rue Sauval.
After discussing brush strokes with Fity, Emilie and I lunched at concept store, Colette, popular with the young fashion crowd in Fauberg. We rounded up the second day with a visit to one of Paris's fine jewellers, Lorenz Bäumer, in Place Vendome. Jewellery doesn't come cheap chez Bäumer but his rocks are so spectacular it's worth going there just to dream. By the time Emilie and I got back to the Meurice that evening, I was feeling completely at home, very unlike a tourist, and frankly, very Parisienne.
First published in The Guardian Unlimited, 18 May 2004
From the desolate Yorkshire moors to the estuaries of the Cornish coast, Sarah Dawson explores the landscapes that inspired some of the UK's finest writers
"That's Thrushcross Grange," explained my host, Brenda Taylor, as I stared out of the car window at the impressive hall at the foot of the Pennine Way. She parked in the neighbouring driveway of Ponden House, a cosy little B&B in Stanbury near Haworth, and ushered me into the hallway. "Dump your bags and we'll take the dog for a walk so you can get a closer look".
I stumbled down the snowy, muddy hills trying desperately to keep up with my extremely fit 60-year-old host. In front of the grand hall Brenda leaned over conspiratorially to explain: this was the house Emily Brontë renamed Thrushcross Grange in her novel Wuthering Heights. The Grange was the home of Edgar Linton, an affluent gentleman who the heroine Catherine marries for a better life, denying her true feelings for the far sexier Heathcliff until it is too late.
Until five years ago the house had been Brenda's own home, before she had renovated the neighbouring 16th century house and barn into the guest house when her family moved away. Out of the window, the reservoir and moors presented a dark and eerie view. With a copy of Wuthering Heights I headed to bed.
I wanted to follow in the Brontë sisters' footsteps on the moors. Not being known for my map-reading expertise, I decided to enlist a guide lest I found myself in Lancashire by sunset. I found Haworth Tourist Office (01535 642329) at the top of the cobbled Main Street and had just enough time for a look around the Parsonage Museum, the Brontë's home between 1820 and 1861, before meeting my guide, Rick.
Rick led me into Penistone Hill Country Park behind the Parsonage, from where we crossed into Haworth Moor to view its waterfall and the Brontë stone chair: a place, he told me, where Emily Brontë used to sit to gather her thoughts and gain inspiration.
With an escalating sense of anticipation, we continued up the Pennine Way on what felt like a long, long walk, to the focal point of Emily Brontë's novel: Wuthering Heights itself.
Alas - these heights weren't just wuthering but slightly disappointing. A plaque on the old ruined walls of the farmhouse known as Top Withins confirmed that it was not specifically the house which inspired Emily, but rather the location.
Emily used the word "wuthering" as a provincial adjective to describe the house's situation when exposed to stormy weather. I had to admit it was about as desolate and harsh as you can get and her fiery, tumultuous characters seemed entirely appropriate here in this rough environment. As I felt the wind whistling painfully around my ears I felt sure that a visit to the Heights on a warm sunny day just wouldn't have the same effect.
Every so often we would take a rest to admire the view, watching out for grouse and curlews. Our round trip wasn't complete without visiting a large outcrop of gritstone jutting out of Stanbury Moors called Ponden Kirk, or renamed Penistone Crag in Emily's book, and the regular rendezvous for Cathy and Heathcliff. Legend has it that if you climb through the hole in the rock you'll be married within the year.
My intended moorland stroll to get a sense of the Brontë spirit had evolved into an exhilarating seven mile trek. Back at Ponden House Brenda had "brewed-up" and a plateful of freshly baked scones sat on the table. With restorative tea in one hand and scone in the other I settled down by the lounge fire to continue reading the drama of Wuthering Heights.
Cornish classics
In complete contrast to the harsh heath land of Haworth my next literary break took me to a secluded working coastal farm called Menabilly Barton, on the mild and balmy Cornish Peninsula just outside Par.
Dame Daphne du Maurier lived in this part of Cornwall for some 26 years and in the taxi to the farmhouse my driver proudly pointed to the woods where Du Maurier used to walk. Apparently, on holiday in the late 1920s she stumbled upon and fell in love with the stately home called Menabilly, an old uninhabited mansion covered in ivy and used this as her inspiration for "Manderley", the country house by the sea in her mystery, Rebecca.
She was so fascinated by the house that she rented it from the owners when she returned to Cornwall in 1942 and wrote The King's General and My Cousin Rachel there. Menabilly is private property today but there are three stone cottages on the estate that can be rented out.
My host, Mrs Dunn, shook off her muddy boots and led me into the warm and welcoming farmhouse. It was all roaring flame fires, old wooden furniture with period paintings decorating the walls and copies of Du Maurier's biographies and books littering the dining room table.
My bedroom overlooked their large sheltered garden full of greenery and palm trees and although I couldn't see the sea from the window I was told that sandy tranquil Polridmouth Beach was a mere 10 minutes away. The next morning I tramped down to explore the coastline -this time without a guide.
Du Maurier had been inspired for her short story The Birds walking down this lane when she saw a huge flock of seagulls swarm over a tractor in the fields. Down at the bay there is a private house, which locals say was Du Maurier's model for the boathouse in Rebecca and also inspired Alfred Hitchcock to make a film of The Birds.
I took the coastal track leading to Fowey, which hosts the Daphne du Maurier Literary Centre (as well as an annual Du Maurier arts festival). I learned that the quaint harbour town of Fowey is another great writer's inspiration: fans of Mole, Ratty and Toad, the characters from Kenneth Grahame's classic The Wind In The Willows, will be right at home here.
Willows aficionado Lynn Goold at Fowey Tourist Office who explained that Grahame stayed here in the late 19th century and met Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, a prominent writer and local figure who influenced Grahame to write the stories.
I could see why Grahame felt moved to write his water based tales as Fowey has one of the most beautiful rivers and estuaries in the country. It's said he stayed at the luxurious Fowey Hotel on the Esplanade where, overlooking the harbour, he wrote letters to his son based on bedtime stories of the adventures of Toad of Toad Hall and his riverside companions. The Fowey Hall Hotel at the top of the port is believed to have been the model for Toad Hall and has rooms named after the animals.
In the summer Lynn runs three-hour guided boating tours to the lake at Lerryn where Grahame created the characters, guided walks into the wild woods, as well as walks and illustrated talks about Daphne du Maurier.
First published in The Guardian Unlimited, 8 May 2003
Sarah Dawson discovers that a touch of Oriental luxury need not cost the earth, particularly if there's a free stopover involved
"You like bananas?" The question came from my Malaysian airline "transfer" driver, who was chauffeuring me from Kuala Terengganu's airport to my resort in Merang in a clapped out Toyota. She had pulled over at a roadside vendor and was vigorously prodding boxes of fruit.
Without waiting for my reply, an enormous bunch of fresh bananas was thrust into my arms as she ignored my protestations and pulled out some Malaysian Ringgits from her purse to pay for them. It was generous behaviour from a transfer driver and unless the resort I was staying at had a fruit rationing I feared I would never munch them all within a week.
I was taking advantage of Malaysia Airlines' stopover package for long-haul passengers - a free internal flight including transfers to anywhere in Malaysia, with a wide range of destinations and choice of accommodation from budget to luxury, sky-rise to stilts. I decided to avoid major tourist traps and large cities and selected a region I hadn't visited before: a small resort in a fishing village on the east coast promised to be "the epitome of Malay culture".
A half hour drive from Terengganu airport, the Aryani resort is a five star paradise set amid coconut fronds, banana trees, tropical flowers and palms. It is luxury accommodation, but not in a glittery or futuristic way. Inspired by an ancient sultan's palace, it is a secluded nine acre royal retreat of classical Malay architecture, complete with 20 private villas, swimming pool, lily pond (for life contemplation), beach club, restaurant and heritage spa.
It was quiet when I arrived. The outbreak of Sars and the then impending war had caused a few guests to cancel. Consequently I had around fifteen staff vying for my attention, proffering iced tea on one tray and local delicacies on the other. I wondered whether I was dreaming or maybe I had walked into another era, or was I in fact part of the royal family?
The lack of company certainly had it's advantages. I was upgraded from a superior to a deluxe superior villa, which included a bed the size of my bathroom at home. The décor was simple and elegant, boasting fine woodcarvings (a local speciality). There was a private veranda, garden, and, best of all, an outdoor bath in a garden setting with Frangipani leaves shading the bather from the sun - all giving a distinct air of of nobility.
A short walk under coconut and palm trees took me to the heritage spa, set at the foot of the warm and welcoming South China sea. On first sight, it looked like a rather dilapidated hut on stilts. Reconstructed from original timber to provide the authenticity of an old Malay building, the cracks in the wooden walls and the lack of tiled cosmetic treatment rooms only increased its charm. There are no Oxygen facials on the menu here, but with the fresh sea air wafting through the windows you don't need one. And while a sarong replaces the regulation fluffy white robe in other luxury spas, 'Royal' treatments from an ancient Malay generation are every bit as indulgent.
I surrendered to a floor cushion covered in batik to be pummelled, massaged, scrubbed and rejuvenated with local herbs, spices, fruits and flowers just as previous princesses would have been. Next, I was bathed in a warm tub full of scented water covered in vivid jasmine, tropical magnolia blooms and rose petals as I listened to the waves crashing on the shore and inhaled the scented tropical air through the windows.
At the Aryani every whim is catered for. If I had requested a mattress to be placed on the gigantic wooden carved bed overlooking the pool and fanned by fifteen men with giant banana leaves I got the impression it wouldn't have been denied me. Instead, I settled for breakfast of pineapple, banana, and watermelon down at the Pulau beach club, a noodle lunch by the pool, and several of the Aryani specialities for dinner in the Serai restaurant. All washed down with Tiger beer or a chilled lemongrass tea, the Aryani's signature drink best taken with Sajian Petang (a local delicacy delivered to your villa just before those late afternoon hunger pangs set in).
Although there is a television and phone in each room, the last thing on your mind is the outside world. The state of Terengganu has one of the longest coastlines in Malaysia, with long white sandy beaches, marine parks and excellent snorkelling and diving on neighbouring islands, Redang and Perhentian. Despite these diversions I only ventured out of the resort once - to be chauffeur driven to a batik factory in Terengganu for some retail therapy. Two hours later I couldn't wait to re-enter the Aryani, where time seems to stand still. I was a stressed-out urbanite when I arrived, but five days living like a Malaysian sultana was just what the doctor ordered.
First published in Spanish Homes
There’s no denying that Seville is a passionate city. Think fanning señoritas, emotional flamenco music, burning hot summers, bull fighting and Opera. Sarah Dawson explores the city dubbed the most romantic place on earth.
One of the first things you notice in Seville is that many of the buildings are golden yellow or a pinkish red. You could assume this is a reflection of the city’s fiery persuasion, but according to history the yellow (called ‘Ocre’) symbolises gold, money and power in the period after the discovery of America, and the reddish pink shade (called Almagra) became the city’s emblematic colour after an Almagra ceramic tile was found close to the Guadalquivir River.
Eating Iron
The best way to see the city is by foot. Start in the winding alleyways of the medieval Jewish quarter, Santa Cruz, where doors are extraordinarily tall (so Sevillano’s could enter on horseback), white washed houses are built indecently close together (to keep cool) and all the windows have iron grilles so they can be left wide open in the summer without being a security risk. There’s another more quixotic theory however that says the grilles were assembled to prevent amorous young men from getting too close to their daughters, who as a result were forced to “comer hierro” (eat iron)!
Explore the city’s many other barrios (districts), each with very individual charms. Macarena is so unique it even has its own dialect. Once the poorest part of the city it’s 17th century beggars and urchins were models for Murillo’s paintings, but it is now the official seat of the Andalucian parliament and home to many beautiful churches, such as Santa Catalina.
On the other side of the river, Triana, originally the heart of the city’s gypsy community, and the best place for flamenco, provides respite from the crowds and has fabulous riverside views of the Torre del Oro (Golden Tower), the Giralda and the Maestranza theatre from Calle Betis. You’ll also find the city’s oldest ceramics factory (over a century old), ‘Ceramica Santa Ana’ here, at Plaza Callao 12.
For some peace and quiet the Parque del Maria Luisa, a lush and shady haven from the heat also has monuments and buildings located inside, including the Royal Pavilion, Archaeological Museum, the Museum of Arts and Popular Customs plus its centre piece, the Plaza de Espana, a group of majestic buildings surrounded by water features.
Calle Sierpes in Centro district is the most fashionable street in town and should be top priority for any self respecting shop-aholic. Snake your way around the adjoining shops and alleyways for attractive antique, designer, and high street bargains and enjoy the area’s Renaissance, Gothic and Baroque architecture, including the church of San Salvador, built on the site of the city’s first Friday Mosque.
Cruel to be kind
The top three cultural essentials in Seville are the Cathedral, the Giralda and Alcázar, located in/around the Plaza de la Virgen de los Reyes. Built upon the huge rectangular base-plan of a 12th century mosque the Cathedral is the largest gothic temple in the world and third largest Cathedral after St Peter’s in the Vatican and St Paul’s in London. Highlights include the main alter piece, the choir off the main chapel, the art collection and infamous tomb holding the remains of Christopher Columbus.
The cathedral’s minaret, La Giralda, was built in 1184 by the Emperor of Morocco and at 298 feet high is the city’s famous landmark. Climb the 40 floors of concrete ramps, (built this way so that the Muezzin could ride up on horseback to call prayers) for panoramic views of the city.
The Alcázar (Plaza del Triunfo) is a series of palaces built in the tenth century, and adapted by the various kings. The finest are those built for Pedro the Cruel in the 14th century. In the Patio del León, Pedro, known as “the just” or “Cruel” depending on his mood, gave his judgement. Don’t miss the Salón de Embajadores, with its wooden dome of red, green and gold cells and ceiling dripping with gilded stalactites.
Around Seville, there is a beguiling array of renaissance mansions in Seville, most popular is the Casa de Pilatos, (Santa Cruz), thought to be an imitation of Pontius Pilot’s house and many modern buildings, bridges and monuments were built for the two international exhibitions that the city hosted; the Ibero-American fair in 1929 and Expo 1992, marking the 500th anniversary of Christopher Columbus’s discoveries.
A cigar maker named Carmen
The city’s Museo des Bellas Artes, (fine arts museum) is Spain’s second most important art galley after the Prado in Madrid. Located in a beautiful former convent, a religious theme prevails, with much of Murillo’s greatest works including the famous Virgin and Child, referred to as La Servilleta because it was allegedly painted on a dinner napkin, a monumental Last Supper by Alonso Vásquez and paintings by Ribera, Zubarán and Goya. Look out for Gonzalo de Bilbao XXC’s "Las cigarreras" which shows Sevillan women working in the city’s cigar factory, with their babies beside them.
Seville has been the inspiration for several Operas; Figaro, Don Juan and perhaps most famously, Carmen, the story of a gorgeous gitana who worked at the city’s cigar factory and falls in love with a corporal, Don José. When she transfers her affections to a hunky bull fighter she is stabbed dead by the jealous Don José outside the bullring, where there is now a statue of her.
Flamenco is huge in Seville and there are two ways to enjoy this. Go to an organised show at Los Gallos (Plaza de Santa Cruz) or El Arenal (Calle Rado 7) or, for a more free-form experience, hit Anselma at midnight (C/ Pages del Corro 49) when lights are dimmed, chairs turned into a circle and the first few moody steps of impromptu flamenco dancing begins.
If you want to see more of Seville’s surrounds, drive north of the city to view Roman ruins and mosaics at Itálica, one of the earliest Roman settlements in Spain and the birthplace of the emperors, Trajan and Hadrian.
Madrid winter cultural weekend
Madrid is undergoing a cultural and artistic boom and major modernisation and expansion programmes are underway to its three internationally acclaimed museums, the Prado, Thyssen Bornemisza and the Queen Sofía National Art Centre. Whether you’re an arts aficionado or merely have a passing interest, winter is the ideal time to explore the city’s indoor cultural attractions. By Sarah Dawson
The Art Walk
Madrid has over seventy museums, thirty theatres and fifty music venues, so the best place to start your weekend cultural tour is at The Paseo del Arte (The Art Walk) located on one of the city’s most famous streets, Paseo del Prado. The beautiful tree-lined pedestrianised walkway links the Prado, Thyssen Bornemisza and Queen Sofía National Art Centre, and will take you on a journey through painting, sculpture and art from classical antiquity to the present. Close by are some of Madrid’s most emblematic monuments, the majestic fountain of Neptune and goddess Cibeles at Plaza de Cibeles, surrounded by the architecturally interesting buildings of the Palacio Telecomunicaciones, Palacio de Linares, Palacio de Bellavista and the Banco de España.
The Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum is the first museum on the Art Walk. Occupying the Neo-classical Palace of Villahermosa the museum exhibits the Thyssen family’s private collection of paintings gathered over two generations. According to critics it is the perfect compliment to the Prado and Reina Sofía as it bridges the gap in their respective collections with an outstanding number of works dating from very primitive 14th century Italian art up to 20th century pop art. Dürer, Tintoretto, Degas, Goya, Cezanne, Matisse, Dalí, Picasso and Renoir are just a few of the artists you will see. Having acquired two adjacent buildings this year, the museum’s extension includes 300 new paintings from the private collection of Baron Thyssen’s widow. Look out for Edward Hopper’s ‘Hotel Room’ and Picasso’s ‘Harlequin’.
Next is the Prado museum, considered by many experts to be the best art gallery in the world and undoubtedly Madrid’s most popular tourist attraction. Located in the building that Carlos III originally intended to be the Natural History Museum, the Prado has the most complete and impressive collection of sixteenth, seventeenth and twentieth century art, including a formidable Flemish collection with almost all of Bosch’s work and the most complete collection of Titian and painters from the Venice school in any single museum. Expect to see artists of the stature of Hieronymus, Rubens, Botticelli, Rafael, Tintorretto, Zurbarán, Goya, Velázquez and El Greco. Look out for Las Meninas by Velázquez and Goya’s Majas. The old cloister of the church of Los Jerónimos is currently being restored and will be adjoined to the Prado, along with other nearby buildings to increase the current museum area two-fold.
The Art Walk ends at the Queen Sofía National Art Centre, which is totally dedicated to modern art. The museum houses some of the most important art movements of the 20th Century and is famous for having Picasso's Guernika in its collection, his early work such as La Mujer en Azul and surrealist canvases by Miró and Dalí. The highlight of the avant-garde work is Francis Bacon’s Figura Tumbad’ and the iron sculptures by Julio Gonzalez are a great introduction to cubism and avant-garde trends. Located in what used to be the city’s hospital, constructed by Sabatini in 1776 around a huge central garden, it was remodelled as an arts centre in 1986. Once the three modern structures are adjoined to the Sabatini building the exhibition space will increase by fifty per cent.
Re-charging your batteries
The very beautiful and grand 1920’s décor cafe in the Circulo de Bellas Artes, the Fine Arts Institute (just off Carrer Alcala in Carrer Marqués) is a great place for a restorative coffee break and the centre hosts art and photography exhibitions, a theatre and music hall. Afterwards, head to nearby Plaza Santa Ana, the square which writers such as Cervantes, Góngora and Lope de Vega used to frequent in the Golden Age, to sample some of Madrid’s famous Tapas. Cerveceria Alemana does great Tortilla.
Continuing Culture
Over the other side of the city, the part Baroque, part Neo-Classical Royal Palace (Metro Opéra) is the next cultural must-see, not least because of its spectacular location on the site of the old Alcázar erected by the Arabs in the 9th century, but also for its amazing collection of armoury, tapestries and its museum with canvases by Italian, French and Spanish painters. After a major fire in the eighteenth century Felipe V reconstructed the palace to its present glory. Don’t miss the very beautiful Sabatani Gardens outside.
Doing the ‘paseo’
If you need a break from all the culture join the Madrileno’s in Parque Del Retiro (Metro: Retiro/Atocha) for the ‘Paseo’ (afternoon stroll). Leave the park at the north west section and you’ll see one of the two remaining gates of the old city wall, the Neo-classical Puerta de Alcalá. Next door to the Prado Museum is the perfectly peaceful Jardin Botánico, eight hectares of gorgeous gardens, greenery and plants. Originally opened in 1781 by Carlos III to grow and research then supply herbs and plants to Madrid’s hospitals, the gardens were abandoned after the Peninsula war, restored in the 1980s, and now boast 30,000 species from all over the world.
Other highlights
Visit Plaza Mayor (Main Square), an attractive Medieval market place once used for state occasions, jousts, plays and bull fights and still a bustling area, followed by the Puerta del Sol, where the heart of Madrid, and Spain, beats and from where every distance in Spain is measured. Shops, restaurants and cafes abound. If shopping for bargains is your thing don’t miss the famous flea market, El Rastro, dating back to the time when the abattoir was located here and other traders gravitated to the area. (Weekends, 10-3pm, start at Cascorro Square). And if you’ve still time to spare sit back, relax and see the rest of Madrid on the ‘Madrid Vision’, a 90-minute sightseeing tour bus covering old and modern Madrid with audio translations. (From Banco de España).
First published in Spirit and Destiny magazine
In search of a sublime spiritual connection Sarah Dawson dons a wetsuit and takes to the open water to commune with dolphins.
White knuckled and nervous, I gripped the handrail of the boat as it sped through the Atlantic waves off the island of Pico, one of the last vestiges of land between Europe and America. There were nine of us on a hard hulled boat (a dinghy with solid floor) and as the skipper expertly steered us to a halt I scanned the ocean left and right for the telltale blue flash of fin or tail.
At the nod from the skipper two of us don snorkel gear and perched on the side of the boat waiting for another signal. Slowly, and as delicately as possible we slipped into the ocean. It was my first time swimming in open water. I was terrified, but remembering the tips from my instructor earlier I put my face immediately into the water and tried to stay focused. All I could see was an expanse of water. The only sound was me breathing through the snorkel.
I turned my head to look back at the boat, then back into the water. Suddenly there they were: dozens of dolphins, swimming beneath and all around me. My anxiety gave way to a crazy, childlike sense of joy and I made a muffled squeal when I saw dolphins with calves. It felt unreal, as though I was staring at a poster or photo, but then I heard their inimitable sonar, which reverberated through my body as I floated, transfixed. It felt like time had stood still.
When all of the dolphins have moved on I looked up to the boat to see my companions whooping with joy at the encounter they knew I’d just experienced. As most of these dolphins never encounter humans, the sense of privilege I felt at being allowed to socialise with these wild and beautiful creatures was overwhelming.
My search for dolphins had brought me to the volcanic island of Pico in the Azores. With green mountains, quiet ports, cobbled streets, Baroque churches and a life that remains unhurried and calm, Pico is one of the least polluted regions on the planet. It’s a magical place in itself but the big draw for visitors who come here every summer are the dolphins and whales frequenting the warm currents of the Gulf stream to feed in its abundant, unpolluted waters. The fishing village of Lajes do Pico is where all the action takes place.
Pico was once a world famous whale hunting location. But when whaling was banned in the 1980’s the islanders turned to taking tourists to whale-watch and swim with wild dolphins. The Espaço Talassa (whale watching centre) prides itself on an eco-friendly approach to cetaceans.
Using the age-old expertise of the ‘Vigia’ (men who traditionally spied whales from the island’s hills), and modern sonar, they direct their boats to pods of between 20 and 500 dolphins. Inside the centre are masses of books and information about whales and dolphins and the island’s hunting history, which gives you a deeper respect for the animals and for them to be sustained in their natural freedom.
Whale and dolphin-watching boats leave regularly from the Espaço Talassa but to actually swim with dolphins you need to be on an organised holiday (you’re not permitted to swim with whales because they are so endangered) and Brighton based company, The Dolphin Connection, is one of the most established on the island. After being inspired by a series of vivid dreams its founder, Amanda Stafford, established the company in 1997 offering activity based holidays with a holistic, personal and often tailor-made approach.
Amanda is committed to conservation and only works with companies who have skill and sensitivity when dealing with dolphins, such as only allowing two people in the water with them at any one time. She and her team have dedicated their lives to deepening human relationships with dolphins and whales and love what they do with a passion, which is very infectious.
On the first day of our holiday, Amanda, with her colleague, Cieron Edwards, told us to shed all expectations about the dolphins, including fantasies of riding off into the distant sunset on their tails, or watching them jump through hoops. Instead, we would be seeing and swimming with the dolphins in their natural environment and on their terms. They go on to say that dolphins may cavort beneath us as we lie on the surface or swim with us in perfect harmony, or they might not approach us at all if they are too busy socialising or feeding.
After practising snorkelling in the hotel pool, Amanda shuffled some Dolphin Divination cards on the table and we received our first ‘message’ from the dolphins. Mine said: "Ride the waves". I pictured Paikea, the young girl in the inspiring film, Whale Rider who is in total harmony with the whales.
There were nineteen of us in the group, but for the boat trips we were split into two sets with a skipper and either Amanda or Cieron. Among the group was a couple with two daughters and six month old baby, two eighteen year old girls, a family of three including seven year old boy and grandmother plus two family friends, a couple from Oxford and five independent women.
Some were here for a meaningful spiritual experience, others to improve health and wellbeing. Some just wanted to watch and take photos and enjoy a marine adventure in the refreshing, unpolluted ocean.
Despite my initial trepidation, as the days wore on I began to feel more confident in the water. As well as enjoying my own experiences, it was moving to discover what the other participants were getting out of the trip. I learned that Ros, from Oxford, accompanied by husband Mike, had been all around the world on whale-watching trips, but had never caught sight of one.
Luckily on our fourth boat trip we found ourselves surrounded by first one then incredibly five other extremely sociable sperm whales, spraying water, poking their tails and heads right out of the water to look at us. Tears of joy and gratitude streamed down Ros’s face as her greatest life ambition was realised, while the rest of us sat mostly in a meditative silence, awe-struck by these huge yet graceful creatures dwarfing our vessel.
Sheila (39), a teacher from the Midlands had been passionate about dolphins since she was little and swimming with them was a lifetime ambition. The dolphins were drawn to her, and each time she emerged from the water she was ecstatic. Sheila’s friend, Claire (36), from Wales, was amazed by the intensity of her encounters and wished she could swim faster, while for sisters Alicia and Hannah, both in their early teens, the experience made them aware of the plight of captive animals.
Dolphins are highly sensitive to humans, and spookily, their behaviour seemed to mirror our states of mind. When we were tired we attracted the calm, peaceful Risso dolphins but if we were exuberant, the spotted or Bottlenose dolphins arrived, cutting through the waves at incredible speeds.
The spotted dolphins were the most playful and inquisitive. Lisa Dobinson, (33), from Brighton was stunned when one swam towards her head-on. She expected to feel fear but surprisingly felt calm while ‘he’ sussed her out (somehow she sensed the dolphin was male), swam up, circled her, then returned with his sonar vibrating through her body.
Dolphins use their sonar to scan the water and can detect a shark half a mile away, even determining whether its stomach is empty or full. Some years ago, Amanda Stafford was involved in research monitoring the effect of sonar on people’s brains after swimming with dolphins. They found that the resonance caused the release of endorphins and seratonin, our so-called ‘happy’ hormones.
Sarah, in her fifties, from Suffolk, seemed to agree. Recovering from breast cancer, she was on holiday with daughter Angie, her son, Johnny, and family friends, Lisa and Val. Sarah didn’t think she’d ever go into the water, but on her third trip her daughter persuaded her to try. A very nervous Sarah put on her mask, looked into the water, and was astonished to see 15 dolphins pointing up towards her. Thanks to the buoyancy of her wet suit she lay contentedly like a starfish on the surface while their sonic vibrations resonated through her with their healing powers.
Since returning home, friends and family have remarked on a change in Sarah. She believes something magical happened in the water, and was so inspired by the experience she now listens to dolphin and whale tapes daily and practices dolphin visualisations.
Svaraj (her spiritual name), from Manchester, was lucky enough to get really close to some sperm whales as an underwater photographer was taking pictures (photographers are permitted to get closer than tourist boats). Sadly, Svaraj’s health is deteriorating but she’s determined to make the most of activity holidays such as this while she can, and believes that anything that makes her feel so great must surely be good for her health and morale.
With such intense shared experiences we bonded quickly and most evenings found us sat around a candle-lit table under the hotel’s vine and orange trees discussing our dolphin encounters over delicious food. Being surrounded by such natural beauty helped to open our hearts and see the best in people.
Despite the physical demands, we felt vital and excited each morning. There were five boat trips over the 10 days and on alternate days I went to the lagoon to read, relax and snorkel, basking in the sunshine with the island’s imposing (but dormant) volcano, often shrouded in clouds, in the distance. Some of the group explored the island, with its resplendent green landscape and blue sulphur volcanic rock. Every day was gorgeously hot and sunny, but the island gets enough rain to keep it lush and green.
The end of a holiday is usually tinged with sadness but we talked of feeling re-balanced and felt that this holiday had truly enhanced our lives. Some people believe that dolphins are really angels, or extra-terrestrials sent to enlighten us. I'm not sure I agree, but we all had uplifting and powerful experiences being at one with nature. It’s a couple of months since I returned from the holiday, but the peace and joy I experienced in the Atlantic Ocean is still with me.
First published in Living France
When Sarah Dawson joined a group of ‘Yogites’ in the south of France she was relieved to find that along with the twice daily yoga sessions, there was plenty of delicious food and Languedoc wine flowing...
The taxi driver sped to a halt at the side of the street and announced our arrival at “La Maison Verte” but I was slightly perplexed. The pictures had suggested a secluded, tree-lined avenue and this busy, dusty street seemed an unlikely reality. Just as I was about to query it, two huge gates were flung open and I was greeted with a cheery “Bonjour” from my hostess, Nicola, who then led me like Alice stumbling through the Looking Glass, into an entirely different world.
Cunningly tucked away from the rest of the village of Roujan in the Languedoc and just as the photographs had promised, La Maison Verte, is a hidden treasure set within two acres of land literally bursting with vibrancy overlooking distant fields of yellows and greens. Seven years ago Wood Sculptor Teddy Hutton and his wife Nicola Russell stumbled upon this nineteenth century former wine-making mansion, covered from head to toe in green Ivy Creeper - hence it’s name - and figured that as well as being the perfect place to set up a studio and gallery, the nineteen bedrooms, outdoor swimming pool, and private gardens were ideal for a whole range of creative, activity and relaxation holidays. And just about every type has taken place here, from crime writing, painting, jazz, cookery, opera and yoga.
I was here for a Yoga Holiday and was due to join the other ‘Yogites’ in the custom built practise room at 6pm so with an hour to spare I set about exploring my new surroundings. Inside, I found the Bohemian mansion was adorned with a quirky range of pieces d’arts including a Papier Mâché Grandfather Clock perched on the landing near my bedroom as well as some of Teddy’s wood sculptures. I was told to make full use of the kitchen during my stay and was delighted that my bedroom on the top floor had fantastic views across the courtyard, garden and fields. There was no trace of the noisy street on the other side of the gates, the only sounds I could hear were the incessant Cicadas and the local Church bells, which I discovered tolled on the hour every hour, but usually fifteen minutes late.
In the garden I passed shady swings hanging on branches of ancient trees and tiny niches and corners, ideal for quiet contemplation. Finally I arrived at the pool set beside the small vineyard and surrounded by figs, oleanders, mimosa, palms and pear trees. I dived in to the refreshing water and stayed there until I heard the bells chime 6pm (or thereabouts).
There are two sessions of ‘Ashtanga’ yoga (which is also known as ‘Power’ Yoga because of it’s fast pace) taught each day on the holiday, a rigorous morning session between 9 and 11am and a more relaxing evening one between 6 and 8pm. Tutor, Liz Lark, a very experienced and acclaimed yoga teacher in the UK has been teaching, bending, stretching and flexing her body for around eight years, and written several books on the subject, running classes in London, as well as Yoga holidays around the world.
The reward after each class is Nicola’s top-class delicious healthy Vegetarian food. At 11.30 she served ‘brunch’, which consisted of Yoghurts, Fruit, Cheese, Nuts, Olives, Quinoa and Humus and in the evening dinner was served by candlelight, and included Stuffed Peppers with Goat’s Cheese, Vegetable Bake and Aubergine Parmigiana, accompanied by gallons of fine wine and conversation. Often, some of the locals joined in which added more spice to our various discussions.
In my first Yoga session the clicks and cracks in my shoulders seemed to reverberate around the room but in the deep meditative relaxation I felt myself surrendering to the physical wellbeing that was fast enveloping me. I hadn’t been sure what to expect of a Yoga holiday, but any preconceptions about it being a bunch of hippies or just for super fit, bendy people were quickly dispersed. We were a small, intimate group of around nine (including two men), aged between mid twenties and fifty, and from all walks of life.
You certainly don’t have to be an experienced Yogi to come on one of these holidays, some of the group had been practising for years, others for just a few months, and two had only just begun. According to Liz, all that is required is an interest in learning and developing Yoga. At the beginning of the week she establishes the differing levels so she can instruct accordingly, and she does this in a very expert way, so that nobody feels they are lagging behind.
My first day ended with a dip in the pool under the moonlight and I slept so soundly that I almost missed the beginning of Day Two’s class but a boisterous voice over a loud speaker announcing what Fish would be on sale in the market that day along with the constant hissing from the Cicadas awoke me in the nick of time.
The morning session was pretty robust and afterwards Liz suggested a drive out to La Tamarissiere, a long sandy beach near the town of Agde nestled on the banks of the Herault River, for a late afternoon Yoga session. After relaxing on the beach we found a quiet spot by the river for a light workout and some meditation. Then back at base Nicola greeted us with more of her culinary delights.
I was dismayed by mid week however to find that the initial energy buzz had morphed into a heavy tiredness. Liz assured me this was normal but it was somewhat of a relief when she announced a Yoga-free day, and instead, a day trip to the historical town of Pezenas, the home place of playwright Molière where the ancient cobbled streets, galleries, studios and shops, followed by a gourmet meal in a quaint little Fish restaurant, more than replenished my energy dip.
As the rest of the week progressed I felt an increased improvement in my flexibility, and a positively energised sense of wellbeing. A Yoga holiday at La Maison Verte isn’t just about the Yoga, it is the wonderful sense of freedom, fun and relaxation that comes from being in such a charming and delightful Mediterranean location, and as I stood in a queue for my return flight home I felt none of the usual irritations. Even my shoulders seemed to have taken on a new identity - relaxed and downwards-sloping, instead of the terminally-tensed-upward-ones. Back home, I was all the more amazed that the energy and glow lasted for a very long time. It had been an awesome and inspirational holiday, and I was now a confirmed Yoga addict.