Solange Hando
The following articles are copyright to Solange Hando, and may not be reproduced in any form without her consent in writing.
Shaped by man, sun and soil, the Hérault département opens out like a fan between the Cévennes and the sea. The Greeks cultivated the olives, the Romans planted vines and as forests were cleared through the centuries, dwarf green oak and Mediterranean shrubs took over great swathes of wilderness. Summers are hot and dry, winters mild but rivers can burst their banks in autumn and strong winds ruffle your hair for days.
Walk up Pic St Loup by clear weather and at 658 metres, much of Hérault spreads at your feet, rivers and canyons, hills and plain, the Mediterranean glistening in the distance and all around you, the fragrant scrubland of the garrigue. As you gaze at such a diverse landscape, you soon sense the promise of delicious country fare waiting to surprise you in the farmhouses and villages below.
‘The garrigue is everything,’ explains Xavier Bruguière as we tour his vineyards in the setting sun. ‘Thyme, rosemary, lavender, bay, juniper, they all give fragrance to the wine.’ The dark silhouette of the Peak seems to approve, myriad scents drifting down from the slopes, growing stronger with the dusk.
The Bruguière family have tended their vines for over 200 years. ‘I’m lucky,’ adds Xavier, ‘I have a son to take over and a grandson, just turned 18 months.’ Mas Bruguière claims the Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée, Côteaux du Languedoc Pic St Loup, with the Languedoc Cross, awarded to top AOCs, embossed on the bottles. Eighty per cent of the production is red, from the gentle Calcadiz to the full-bodied Grenadière, ideal with spicy meat and game. Wines are named after plots, Mûriers, Arbouse, Grenadière, and produced from a combination of grapes, syrah, grenache and mourvèdre for reds, roussanne with a touch of marsanne for white. Taste with care, they average 13-13½ % alcohol.
It’s pleasant and cool in the cellars where the production matures in oak barrels, the large tronc conique or the small ‘Bordelaise’ which adds a more woody taste. There’s a quick turnover in barrels as tannin runs out after three years or so.
‘Here, we lose 3 to 4% of the wine, just evaporates, we have to top up. We call that the angels’share,’ winks Xavier, ‘wine’s heavenly, just think how it’s mentioned in the Bible and the New Testament.’
We ponder on this divine connection as we sip Grenadière, twirling our glasses to smell the fragrance and enjoy its warm ruby colour. Then it’s a swirl of rosé and a little white with a hint of hawthorn and honey. We linger joyfully and talk of the Romans who traded this same nectar along the Via Domitia 2000 years ago and the local monks who in the Middle Ages invented new processes in the art of wine-making.
Today Hérault claims one of the world’s largest vineyards and with the rest of the Languedoc-Roussillon, the country’s second highest number of AOCs. Try the subtle Cartagène, excellent with foie gras, the sweet Muscats of Lunel and Frontignan, Minervois or the distinctive Vermouth of Noilly Prat which completes its maturation outdoors, flavoured with up to 49 aromatic plants.
Since our first night at the Oustal de Baumes, the scent of the garrigue was never far away. Up there in the wilderness, the sky was full of stars and a family of frogs heralded the first days of spring. Crickets would come later, filling the nights with incessant strumming.
The Oustal de Baumes is run by Olivier Sénéchal, a cheerful host who swapped the bustle of city life for the silence of the garrigue. Perched on a hilltop, the inn is all mysterious archways and vaults with an L-shaped courtyard and a stone spiral staircase leading to the Chambres d’Hôtes. Each of the nine rooms has its own character, on a theme of ‘Past Revisited’, here a candy pink dream, there a Bedouin bed smothered in veils.
Olivier prepares tasty meals for his guests, using local produce with a secret or two up his sleeve. Don’t miss the ‘assiette campagnarde’, an assortment of salads and pâté, or the soup, a tantalising mix of curry, honey and peppercorn. Table decorations are provided by neighbouring glass artists who continue a 700 year old tradition. After the crusades, the gentry were awarded the right to fashion glass objects in an effort to replenish their coffers. The Oustal de Baumes was a workshop on the glassmakers’ trail and Olivier is keen to encourage the trade.
Glassmakers or potters, wine growers or farmers, the people of Hérault love to tell you about their land. Stay in a traditional gîte or a farmhouse with a sunflower logo and you are sure of an authentic experience. Accommodation is graded with ears of corn, one to five, to denote standard of comfort. Here local food is a treat, from cheese, meats and fresh vegetables to home made pastries and jams at breakfast time. There are opportunities to learn skills, be it pottery or wine tasting, or explore the countryside with your host.
At the Oustal de Baumes, Olivier enjoys taking his guests into the garrigue, pointing out the asphodels, wild basil or asparagus, blue flowering thyme or lavender shoots. You find look-out towers, stone shelters once used by shepherds and ovens dug underground by the secretive glassmakers of the past.
On that hazy morning, Olivier was preparing a late breakfast for the honeymoon couple. ‘No problem,’ he said, ‘take the dogs, they know the way.’ So we set off with Max, Arthur and Lilas who promptly ignored the cairns and map to lead us a merry dance along their secret trails. No doubt we discovered more of the garrigue and its herbs than any other guest before us.
Wild herbs are the hallmark of Hérault cuisine, tossed in salads, sprinkled on grilled lamb from the Cévennes or fish from the Golfe du Lion, goat’s cheese, charcuterie or aubergine pie. They enhance every flavour, perfume the air but no savoury dish would be complete without lashings of olive oil.
The olive tree is an evergreen native of Languedoc, first exploited by the Greeks around the 9th century BC. With its silvery leaves curling up to preserve moisture, it thrives on Hérault’s sunny slopes around the town of Lodève. Each tree yields 15 to 30 kilos of olives a year, with most of the harvest hand-picked from September onwards. Some of the fruit is preserved, the rest taken to the mill where it is pressed to extract oil, five kilos producing one litre. Look out for ‘Huile Extra Vierge’ (from 5.50 euros for ½ litre), from olives pressed only once without applying heat. You can buy oil in its natural form or flavoured with herbs from the garrigue.
Day by day, we learned to appreciate the different varieties, from the smooth pale green Picholines or the black Caillettes to the deliciously crunchy Lucques which grow only in Hérault and neighbouring Aude. You spot them on the markets, served by the ladleful, jostling with gallons of oil, or munch them at apéritif time, or thinly-sliced in tomato salad. An all time favourite is tapenade, the smooth olive paste spread like caviar on canapés.
If you wish, you may visit one of the mills but we were content to enjoy our olives straight from market or, as we say in French, ‘les pieds sous la table’, feet under the table.
We spent much time in that happy position for olives apart, there’s plenty to tickle your taste buds, produits du terroir or coastal delights such as the succulent oysters from Bouzigues.
Half way between mountains and sea, at the ferme-auberge of Domaine de Blancardy, we enjoyed a memorable meal of part-cooked foie gras, duck preserve, local cheeses served on a slate and ice-cream, flavoured with violet, lavender and rose. ‘I loved my grandmother’s cooking and just follow in her footsteps,’ explains Laure as she stirs the last of the Sunday meals in the pan, ‘ I hope you’ll share my passion for our land.’
That is easily done, with guilt-free indulgence. The benefits of olive oil are widely acknowledged and with their first AOC promised for 2004, the olives of Hérault must rank among the best. Add herbs, fresh produce and wine good enough for angels, what more could anyone want?
Rabelais, the 16th century epicurean writer, knew it well. He settled in Hérault for a while, defining life’s purpose as ‘Vivre Joyeux’, living joyfully. As the sun set over the garrigue of Pic St Loup, there seemed no better place to follow his advice.
The moment you land on Chek Lap Kok, Hong Kong sweeps you off your feet. The new International Airport has the world’s largest terminal building and at 1.36 miles, the longest rail and road suspension bridge linking it to the mainland. From terminal to city centre, the Airport Express takes just 23 minutes.
On 1st July 1997, Hong Kong returned to the People’s Republic of China, fishing villages turned metropolis, over six million strong, during 150 years of British rule. Fears were alleviated by the ‘One Country, Two Systems’ agreement and as a Special Administrative Region, Hong Kong enjoys a high degree of autonomy, protected by law for 50 years.
Visiting for the first time since the handover, I found little change. The nostalgic Star Ferries chugged across the waters as they have done for over a century and at HK$2.2 a ride on top deck, they are one of the best sightseeing bargains in town. It’s only eight minutes across Victoria Harbour but time enough to enjoy the island’s skyline, here the zigzag patterns on the Bank of China Tower, there the sensuous curves of the Convention and Exhibition Centre or the Central Plaza rising to 78 floors, framed by green hills. Above these monoliths of concrete and glass, Victoria Peak looms undisturbed, like a grand old lady smiling at a mob of unruly children.
At a cool, often misty, 1810 feet, the Peak has long attracted the elite who built luxury dwellings on its upper slopes laced with gardens and wooded trails. For most visitors, the Peak begins with a steep thrilling ride on the funicular, hauled up to Victoria Gap by a single cable. The summit is out of bounds, topped with telecom masts, but weather permitting, there are unrivalled views across the harbour to the Kowloon peninsula, the New Territories and a few of the 260 Outlying Islands which are part of Hong Kong. At night, the city below is an ocean of lights.
With a density approaching 16 000 inhabitants per square mile, Hong Kong is an eclectic mass of humanity. Executives in pin-striped suits, soothsayers, revellers, manicured store assistants, children on their way to the Ocean Theme Park, shoppers, tourists, the city is for ever on the move, flooding every pavement and elevated walkway, buses, trams, ferries, taxis, underground and the mid-level stairs where a string of 20 escalators carry commuters down in the morning then switch uphill for the rest of the day.
On the island’s north coast, the aptly named ‘Central’ district is the seat of government, finance and upmarket shopping all in one, its architectural wonders jostling for space, soaring above the last colonial buildings. Once graced by British Royals, Statue Square is down to its last VIP, a former manager of HSBC whose lofty headquarters auspiciously claim the best Feng Shui around.
Here, parting with your cash is easy. The largest shopping mall is Harbour City on Kowloon but stay on the Island and you could explore the swanky boutiques of the Landmark, the antique shops in Cat Street, or hunt for bargains in the Lanes or the vast Chinese Emporiums brimming with handicraft. Meanwhile in the cool oasis of Victoria Park, Taichi enthusiasts unwind in slow motion before seeking out the night spots of La Kwai Fong or Wanchai, or SoHo (South of Hollywood Road) with its trendy bars and cosmopolitan restaurants.
For traditional food, many head for Causeway Bay and its glittering marina but wherever you are, you will find no shortage of eateries serving every variant of Chinese fare. Cantonese dim sum come in small bamboo baskets and a range of flavours reserved for breakfast or lunch. Later there may be Peking duck, steamed fish with congee rice, perhaps a fiery Sichuan hotpot or one of the Shanghainese ‘drunken’ dishes, marinated in Shaoxing wine.
Chinese Hong Kong soon grows on you and a good place to feel its pulse is Sheung Wan district, west of Central. Vibrant, colourful, its meandering lanes specialize in ancient trades from carved chopsticks and dried fish to snake bile and other mysterious ingredients of Chinese medicine. Now and then you come across one of Hong Kong’s 600 temples, Kwun Yum dedicated to the Goddess of Mercy, Man Mo festooned with red lanterns and giant coils of sandalwood incense. Clouds of scented smoke fill the air as they did long ago, giving Hong Kong its name of ‘fragrant harbour’.
Once dotted with its own incense mills, Aberdeen on the south coast has sprouted into high rise but retains its frenzied wet market and harbour where, for HK$60 or less depending on bargaining skills, tyre-draped sampans weave you past the ageing fishing fleet and the last houseboats strung with laundry. On the quayside, seafood lovers wait for the free ferry which will take them to glitzy Floating Restaurants, anchored on the edge of the typhoon shelter.
Beyond Aberdeen, life moves at a gentler pace as week-enders relax on the lovely beaches of Deep Water or Repulse Bay or venture to the sleepy village of Shek O in the east. Cooled by sea breezes, Shek O marks the end of the Dragon Back’s Trail, a leisurely trek along a ridge with stunning vistas of the interior country parks and South China Sea.
Stranded on its own peninsula between Shek O and Aberdeen is Stanley, its quiet seafront reaching fever pitch in June when brightly-decorated dragon boats, 33 foot long, paddle furiously to win the race, spurred on by drums and cheering crowds. Many prayers are said in the Sea Goddess Temple and the year round market takes on a festive mood.
From clothing to souvenirs, from jewellery to paintings, Stanley sells anything you ever wanted but for true local colour, the best markets are on mainland Kowloon.
Head for Mong Kok and you will discover the Ladies’ Market, more varied than its name implies, the Goldfish Market awash with lucky pets or the brilliant displays of flower stalls on Prince Edward Road West, at their best in the early morning. In the nearby Chinese Garden, all courtyards and moongates, myriad birds twitter in bamboo cages as hopeful vendors feed them grasshoppers with chopsticks.
Add jade and pearls in Shanghai Street, fresh produce around Reclamation then wait for the Night Market on Temple Street, hours of browsing and bargaining mixed with fortune telling, snatches of Chinese opera and bowls of steaming noodles.
Named after Nine Dragons residing in the hills, Kowloon rivals the Island with its own Golden Mile, stores, tailors and bars along Nathan Road, and a host of cultural attractions.
The Cultural Centre in Tsim Sha Tsui stages concerts and western opera while museums offer a pleasant respite from shopping malls. You find something for everyone, Asian crafts in the Museum of Arts, sky shows and simulators in the Space Museum, family fun in the Science Museum, four floors of interactive displays to share with eager schoolchildren.
Those who wish to delve into age old traditions can meet experts in various venues across Hong Kong and unravel the mysteries of Chinese tea, fashion, jade, Feng Shui or antiques. There are Heritage and Architecture Walks and rides on one of the last Chinese junks. The ‘Cultural Kaleidoscope’ is free of charge, places allocated on first-come first-served basis.
Even the Walled City Park, once a no-go area of slums and opium dens, has historical displays but the dark days of the Triads are soon forgotten in a profusion of exotic flowers and quaint pavilions. Among the blooms is the winter-flowering bauhinia, Hong Kong’s official flower.
Like Kowloon, the New Territories were occupied by the British at a later date, hence their name, to secure the main island. Today they account for 40% of the population but beyond the sprawling new towns are vast rural areas sprinkled with walled villages, ancestral halls and temples. The best way to appreciate their history is to visit the new Hong Kong Heritage Museum in Sha Tin.
While in Sha Tin, don’t miss the Ten Thousand Buddhas Monastery, its 400 steps or so well worth the effort to see the elegant pagoda and the gilded Buddhas lining the main hall or popping up unexpectedly, riding a giant dog or white elephant.
Covering 306 square miles, the New Territories encompass sweeping tracts of wilderness, pristine hills and mountains, dense forests and a rugged coastline fringed with deserted beaches. This is ideal hiking country and a great spot to watch the wildlife. The Mai Po marshes attract thousands of birds while scenic paths weave through the country parks from Sai Kung and the stunning Tai Long Wan beach in the east to Plover Cove and Tai Mo Shan where Hong Kong’s highest peak, ‘Big Misty Mountain’, rises above 3000 feet. All in all, 70% of Hong Kong is covered in forests, mountains and farmland, 40% of this preserved in over 20 country parks.
The Outlying Islands are no exception, whether you sail to Lamma and its rolling hills, Po Toi crisscrossed by rocky trails or the tiny ‘Grass Island’, Tap Mun Chau. Lantau is twice the size of Hong Kong Island and easily reached across the new Tsing Ma bridge. For the most part, the island seems unaffected by the airport on its northern edge but Disneyland due to open in 2005 may have a greater impact. For the moment however, Lantau remains a peaceful place where fishing villages mirror their stilts at the water’s edge and monasteries nestle in dramatic mountainscapes. Po Lin is breathtaking, blessed by the Big Buddha on a lotus throne, dwarfing the crowds who wander in flower gardens or gaze at the views over valleys and peaks.
Just off the coast, the last pink dolphins frolic in choppy waters, watched with delight by bemused tourists on a dolphin cruise, guaranteed sighting or your money back. At the 1997 handover, the Pink Dolphin was chosen as the official mascot.
It seems Hong Kong has come full circle. Spared the political turmoil of modern China, its 5000 years of Chinese traditions bear the marks of urban development but deep at heart, they are alive and well. Bun Festival, Hungry Ghosts, New Year, Spring Lanterns, hardly a month goes by without some sort of celebration spilling out into the streets. Here architects study Feng Shui while old men take their songbirds for a ‘walk’ and play raucous games of mahjong in the lanes.
The Hong Kong Economic Trade office has adopted a dragon as its logo. Its bright flowing lines flutter through the crowded streets, promising a dynamic future to the City of Life where yin and yang are so carefully poised, at the crossroad of east and west.
A newborn elephant swims in the shallows, watched over by the herd of 50 enjoying their twice daily bath. There’s much dousing and waving of trunks when a sudden downpour adds to the fun. Injured or orphaned, these lovable giants have found refuge in Pinawella, the world’s only elephant orphanage at the heart of Sri Lanka.
In Sri Lanka elephants are everywhere, working in the countryside, roaming wild in the National Parks, gathering by the temples at festival time. Some say they bring luck and perhaps this is true. After decades of civil unrest, the island has found peace, once again a tropical paradise hanging like a gem off the southern tip of India.
Ancient cities, hills, jungle, lakes teeming with birds, Sri Lanka has it all but after an 11-hour flight to Colombo, nothing beats the lure of the beach. We head for the south west coast where on a spit of land lapped by the ocean, our dream resort hides among frangipani and bougainvillaea, a boat ride away across the Bentota lagoon. On these golden shores fringed with palms and casuarinas, the summer monsoon brings a refreshing breeze but often high seas.
Lazing by the pool soon deals with jetlag and we set off for a day’s adventure along the coast. Rambling villages spill their goods at the roadside, chillies, mangosteens, peppers, plastic chairs, pots and pans, fish fresh from the tide. Sayna our driver bargains for a mega-bunch of bananas then we hurtle down to Meetiyagoda where in pits up to 30 feet deep, men dig for blue moonstone, sapphires, cat’s eyes and other gems. Endowed with magical powers and colours, Sri Lankan gems have been prized since ancient times, gracing the Queen of Sheba and the English Crown. It’s quite a thrill to be offered a moonstone straight from the pit but the day is young and Sayna has more wonders in store.
Soon we reach Kosgoda, for me a special place where I held a three-day old turtle, all shiny and black, and released her into the sea. ‘They come back every year,’ explains Sayna, ‘swimming thousands of miles to nest on these shores but there is much danger on the beach.’ We meet the Abbrew family who devote their life to turtles, digging out the eggs night after night to bury them in the hatchery, safe from poachers and dogs. Over the past 20 years, they have returned over a million baby turtles to the sea. In the nearby resort of Hikkaduwa, the adults come to feed in the lagoon, popping out to breathe now and then on the crest of a wave among shoals of tiger fish, oblivious to the fleet of glass-bottomed boats who’ve come to have a look.
Framed by distant hills, the road south skirts pastel-coloured shrines and luminous paddies, turning gold at harvest time. The old fort of Galle stands buffeted by the waves, haunted by tales of intrigue and battle. The Portuguese landed here in the sixteenth century, later ousted by the Dutch, followed in turn by the British. Now courting couples stroll on the ramparts and gaze out to sea, while vendors display their wares on the grassy slopes, rows of fearsome masks and carved elephants, lace and sarongs billowing in the breeze.
Lunch is a feast of spicy pancakes and mysterious vegetables. ‘Aphrodisiacs,’ grins Sayna. I have to agree, the shapes say it all. Vegetarians need not go hungry on this island. With 15 varieties of rice and bountiful fresh produce, the chefs’ imagination knows no bounds.
Later that afternoon we reach Weligama, the perfect picture postcard as on the edge of the surf fishermen on stilts pose like wading birds in the setting sun.
Sunsets are brief, spectacular and utterly romantic, dawn is all birdsong and shades of lilac and gold drifting across the river. The first catamarans glide through the mangrove, past monitor lizards dozing on low branches and cormorants flapping their wings on floating huts. Our boy captain scoops up a trail of waterlilies to weave a necklace. ‘For you, madame, a gift from the river.’ Ahead of us the Maduwa widens into a lake, speckled with cinnamon islands.
Spices abound along the coast, cinnamon and cloves, nutmeg, lemon grass and chillies drying in the sun. In the central uplands these fragrant gardens give way to vast tea estates gathered around old colonial dwellings. Here the air is cool, the land lush and green, rolling as far as you can see with stunning vistas and sparkling waterfalls. It’s a slow winding climb from the coast but a night in the hill station of Nuwara Eliya soon revives you, enhanced in our case by a dazzling electric storm.
When we reach Kandy the next day, the sun shines on the old Sinhalese capital tucked in a ring of wooded hills. Alleyways run around the market square while on the hilltop a giant Buddha bestows his blessings. Down by the lake, the Temple of the Tooth mirrors its pagoda roofs in silky waters, beckoning pilgrims from afar who lay their offerings at the shrine. Legend has it that behind the ornate grills and elephant tusks a relic of the Buddha’s tooth is kept in a holy casket.
We are lucky. Tonight is the summer full moon when a torchlight procession will carry a replica through the streets on a tusker’s back. From our balcony we look down on a dizzying kaleidoscope of sound and colour, dancers, drummers, fire wheels and a majestic parade of 40 elephants draped in red and gold.
The night is filled with magic and lights, glistening like so many gems in the Indian Ocean.
5 Fabulous Things To Do
Visit the Cultural Triangle. Allow a few days to explore the ancient capitals and cave temple of Dambulla, see the amazing Buddha statues and climb the dizzying rock fortress of Sigiriya.
Enjoy an overnight safari in the Yala National Park. It’s a good place to view wild elephants and if you are lucky, elk, leopard and sloth bear.
Spend an afternoon in Kandy’s Botanical Gardens. Don’t miss the Great Circle of trees planted by VIPs or the huge weeping fig.
Treat yourself to an Ayurvedic massage, a practice which goes back thousands of years on the island, based on its prolific range of herbs and plants.
Spend a night in the Tea Factory in Nuwara Eliya. Converted into a luxury hotel, with the old machinery beautifully integrated, this is a dream-like place where you wake to breathtaking views.
5 Things To Buy
Spices: One of the best souvenirs and presents to take home. A little goes a long way. Cinnamon sticks are most popular, cloves are said to help digestion.
Tea: Ceylon tea comes in different grades, pure or blended. Top quality is BOPF, with a light golden colour, best drunk on its own. Lower grades are used for herbal teas.
Gems: Best bought from registered dealers. Rubies and sapphires are outstanding and the blue moonstone is said to be the world’s best.
Carved masks: Worn by dancers to scare away evil. Ambalangoda on the south west coast is home to renowned mask carvers and local shops offer a tempting selection of traditional craft.
Batik and lace: Batik is used in a wide range of linen and sarongs, on silk or cotton. Fine lace is found in Galle where women peddle their wares on the ramparts.
5 Useful Tips
For short distances, tuk-tuks ( three-wheeler taxis) are an exciting way to travel and cheap. Agree the price before you board.
Bargaining is fun but profit margins are often slight. Make sure you are fair.
Greet the locals with the traditional ‘Ayubowan’, it means ‘long life’ and will bring a smile to their face.
Remove your shoes in holy places. If you carry a pair of socks, you won’t burn your feet on sun-baked surfaces.
Monsoon winds and undercurrents can make the sea hazardous. Swim in the pool and enjoy your watersports in the Bentota lagoon.
When to go
Best sunshine on the west coast is in the winter months. Summer brings the monsoon to the west but showers are usually short-lived. Temperatures remain high all year but are cooler in the mountains. The east coast receives the monsoon in winter.
Getting there
Packages offer great value:
Hayes and Jarvis, 6 nights B&B at the Taj Exotica, Bentota from £929 (up to April 2003). Extra nights from £58. Tel. 0870 89 89 890 or visit www.hayesandjarvis.co.uk.
Tradewinds, 7nights half-board at the Royal Palms Beach Hotel, Kalutara from £729. Extra nights from £26. Tel. 0870 751 0003 or visit www.tradewinds.co.uk.
Manos, 7 nights B&B at the Sunflower, Negombo from £599 (14 nights from £629). Tel. 08707 530 530 or visit www.manos.co.uk.
Prices per person, based on two sharing.
If you prefer to make your own arrangements, Sri Lankan Airlines fly to Colombo non stop 6 times a week, from £495. Tel. 020 8538 2000.
Other airlines include Gulf Air (tel.0870 777 1717), Qatar Airways (tel. 020 7896 3636) and Singapore Airlines (tel. 020 8563 6705).
Where to stay
Luxury: Eden Resort & Spa, Beruwala . Prices start at US$ 87 for a double room (meals and taxes extra). Everything you would expect from a five star hotel, plus Ayurvedic Spa. Email eden@confifi.net or visit www.confifigroup.com.
Mid-range: Hotel Ceysands, Bentota. Double room from US$35 (meals, taxes and commission extra). Two star rating, lovely location between lagoon and sea making it ideal for watersport. Massage parlour. Email htlres@keells.com or visit www.johnkeellshotels.com.
Budget: Catamaran Beach Hotel, 209 Lewis Place, Negombo. Double room from US$14. Email suntra@sltnet.lk.
Where to eat
You will find a wide choice of eating places in the capital Colombo and good restaurants along the west coast, mostly in and around the hotels. They offer a range of Sri Lankan and Asian fare, as well as the inevitable fast food which comes in western or Sri Lankan style.
Luxury: La Langousterie, 50/2 De Saram Road, Mount Lavinia. Seafood a speciality. Superb restaurant, relaxed atmosphere, live music some evenings.
Mid-range: Sagarika , 25A, Beach Side, Moragalla, Beruwela. Seafood/Oriental/Western cuisine.
Budget: Coral Front Inn Hotel, 279 Main Road, Hikkaduwa. Beer Garden and European Coffee Shop.
The Natives are back in Whitstable, those wild tangy oysters so loved by George III they were granted a ‘Royal’ title. In the last century, storms and predators almost swept them into oblivion but walk down the High Street today and you will soon be tempted.
‘You should savour our Natives like strawberries,’ explains Mark Stubbs, the renowned chef of the Wheelers Oyster Bar at N?8. ‘Don’t chew, don’t gulp. Crush each one gently between tongue and palate to release its full taste. They’re best eaten raw, the flavour’s perfect.’
We certainly agreed but if you prefer your oysters cooked, you can choose the cultivated varieties, Scottish or Pacific, and try them in oyster soup with fritters in sesame seeds and Guinness batter or as traditional Angels on Horseback, wrapped in bacon and fried. Both species are available all year round but the wild Natives are found only in winter, thriving in ice cold water.
Oysters aside, this quaint Kentish town knows few rivals for quality seafood. Fish comes straight from the tide, with local lobster ranking among the best. On the Horsebridge, the Royal Native Oyster Stores change their menu daily according to the catch while the Crab and Winkle compliments its superb seafood with views across the harbour to the Isle of Sheppey. We loved the fishmarket below the restaurant, a treat for self-catering visitors and locals alike.
Whitstable has always been a seafaring town and small as it is, the harbour has kept busy since it opened in 1832. Cargo ships unload aggregate and timber, fishing smacks wait for the tide, great cauldrons cool on the quayside, filled to the brim with steaming cockles. Add sailing yachts tinkling in the breeze and you have Whitstable, the Pearl of Kent. The first steam boat from England to Australia sailed from here.
To appreciate the town’s maritime heritage, we headed for the Museum and Gallery in Oxford Street. There we learned about smugglers, local divers who set up early records and invented the diving helmet, oystermen and the storms and floods which hit the town in the past. There are sharks’ teeth dating 50 million years, a mammoth’s tusk discovered just five years ago and a small shell grotto, such as those once lit all over town on the feast of St James, patron saint of oystermen.
The Museum also holds a permanent exhibition dedicated to Peter Cushing, Whitstable’s most famous resident. The actor spent many happy hours in the Tudor restaurant in Harbour Street and gazed out to sea on the spot now named Cushing’s View.
In summer, most visitors come for clean beaches and watersports, windsurfing, sailing and especially waterskiing, since local girl Liz Hobbs became twice world champion in the eighties.
Winter however brings a charm of its own. The beach huts may be closed but along the Saxon Shore Way, the grassy slopes of Tankerton are ideal for a brisk walk, bracing air guaranteed. When the tide goes out, children explore the pools on Stone Street, a pebble spit jutting half a mile out to sea. Seasalter to the west has a sheltered cove where the tide recedes almost out of sight, to the delight of anglers looking for bait. Birdwatchers too haunt the mudflats and neighbouring marshes which provide a haven for Brent geese, Shelduck, Great Crested Grebes and a host of wintering birds.
Whatever the season, you’ll find plenty to do in this ‘little harbour’ immortalized by Somerset Maugham in his book, ‘Of Human Bondage’. Pick up a leaflet at the Visitors’ Centre and you can follow the Divers’ Trail, join a guided Health Walk or cycle or hike along the Crab and Winkle Way. This former railway line earned its place in the Guinness Book of Records when on 3rd May 1830, it carried the ‘first regular steam passenger railway in the world’, linking Canterbury to Whitstable harbour. Clearly signposted, the trail leads through Clowes Wood where drivers used to stop to collect mushrooms on the way home.
Take time to relax and browse around. The windmill on the hilltop offers wonderful views and there’s an 18th century castle near the harbour, built as a folly by a wealthy London merchant. Wandering through town, we came across alleyways with names that said it all, Skinners, Squeeze Guts, a Fish Slab Art Gallery, pretty weatherboarded cottages along Sea and Island Walls, fishermen’s black-tarred stores and the last of the oyster yawls, the restored Favourite, sunning itself on the beach. The High Street meanders down to the sea, all coffee shops and local stores, Harbour Street runs parallel to the front, a touch of Victorian charm with antique dens, craft shops and cream teas. Galleries pop up here and there, reflecting the town’s renaissance on a vibrant art scene.
After all, Turner came here to paint the sunset and in the last decade or so, artists of international repute have returned to this increasingly fashionable corner of Kent. Sculptors, woodcarvers and potters mingle with modern abstract artists and traditional landscape painters. Many hold open house during the October festival and display their work in local galleries. The ‘upturned boat’ structure you might spot under construction is due to open next spring as a Community and Art Centre. Don’t miss the Playhouse where the Panto will run in the latter part of January. Fronted by a classical façade, it surprised us with its old-fashioned velvet seats and a balcony which betrays its former life as a Methodist church.
Theatre, barge races, regattas, waterski championships, festivities abound in this once sleepy place, most popular of all the summer Oyster Festival when a traditional ‘Oyster Landing Parade’ heralds the week long celebrations. There is much rejoicing at the Old Neptune, the pub on the beach, often blessed with a spectacular sunset.
Did you know that the Romans came here looking for pearls? They found none but loved the oysters so much they sent home what they could not eat, packed in snow. We savoured our Natives on the spot, like strawberries of course. Are they truly aphrodisiacs? ‘Can’t tell you,’ winked Mark, ‘but they do contain seratonin, definitely a feel good factor.’ I couldn’t ask for more.