Mirror of the sky - Falaknuma Palace, Hyderabad

Having celebrated its first birthday on 13 November 2011, Falaknuma Palace is arguably Taj Hotel’s most luxurious hotel in India. I was lucky to be invited to the birthday celebrations and discovered far more than just a hotel.

Perched 2000 feet above Hyderabad, Falaknuma Palace, ‘mirror of the sky’, is an oasis of calm away from the frenetic pace of city life below. From the arrival at the palace by horse and carriage to the attentive service of the personal butler, everyone is treated as a guest of the Nizam in his palace, not as a guest of a hotel. The library, which features a collection of almost 6,000 rare and antique books including an Encyclopaedia Britannica from 1910, is modelled on Windsor Castle's and the rear façade resembles Buckingham Palace.

Originally built in 1894, it took 10 years to complete and cost 4 million rupees, making the original owner bankrupt. Falaknuma Palace was the official residence of Nizam VI until 1911 and was then the royal guesthouse until the 1950s. Under the careful guidance of Princess Esra Jah, Taj Hotels have taken 10 years to painstakingly restore the palace: its façade was painted over 60 times to ensure the colour perfectly mirrored the sky. The hotel is like being in a stately home but guests are free to explore each of the rooms either on their own or with the palace’s own historian. There is no lobby, but a discreet reception hidden off the Nizam’s study. Immaculately dressed staff are always close by to assist with any manner of questions but never noticeable until you need them.

Each baluster on the suspended marble staircase was designed differently as the Nizam didn’t want to ever get bored climbing his stairs. His exquisite dining room seats 101 guests and his suspicious nature mind meant the acoustics of the room were designed so that he could hear any conversation at either end of the long table when he was sat in the middle. The ornate inlaid furniture, fine Jade collection, rich French tapestries and intricate frescos give the palace a distinctive Baroque style. Burroughs and Watts, an English billiard table manufacturer, designed two identical tables. One is in Falaknuma Palace; the other is at Buckingham Palace. The original marking system for the table is still used, as are the Nizam’s cues, which guests are free to use.

The Jiva spa has three treatment rooms overlooking the beautiful gardens and offers a range of royal treatments and signature therapies using traditional Indian therapies. There are two restaurants: Adaa serving authentic Hyderabadi cuisine such as its famous Biryani, and Celeste which serves Mediterranean food. Afternoon tea can, and should, be taken on the Jade Terrace, which overlooks the city. This ritual was inspired by his visits to England, and by English guests, and is a perfect end to any stay in the Palace.

The Quest for the Perfect Beach

This year I surprised myself. For the first time, I craved a holiday where I could spend a day on the beach swimming in crystal clear warm water, but could combine it with the odd day of culture to stop me getting restless! A ten day trip around the Greek Islands, some known but some much less known, fulfilled my fairly strict check list perfectly. Warm sun? Yes. Good food? Plenty. Friendly people? Everywhere. Secluded beaches? Hopefully. Ruins and culture? Thankfully yes! Unspoilt? Almost.

Greece truly threw me in at the deep end into the party capital of the Greek islands: Mykynos Town, Greece’s answer to Ibiza. Mykonos-by-day was a picture postcard slow-paced white washed town with blue shutters and trailing bougainvillea. By night, things livened up but to my surprise I loved it. The quayside bars and restaurants provided the best people-watching opportunities I’ve had in a long while and with menus pricing wine by the kilo, what could be better? When I travel now, I want to explore, meet local people and fulfil that time-old cliché to ‘find something new’ not something I can get by going to any bar or club in London. Fortunately for me, Paradise and Super Paradise beaches, location for the super clubs for the super beautiful, were a bus ride away.

An hour’s boat trip from Mykonos Town is the uninhabited island of Delos and my fix of ancient ruins for the week. Centre of the Cyclades group of islands, Delos was said to be the birth place of the twin gods Apollo and Artemis and became the location for the Greek empire’s treasury. It’s a refreshing contrast to its neighbouring island, developed for the tourists of today, where life doesn’t seem get going before midday. On Delos all visitors have to leave the island by 3pm.

After Mykonos I wanted to find somewhere small and traditional with very few other tourists around. I was optimistic when arriving in the main port town of Samos, which is closer to Turkey than mainland Greece. Taking a bus along the north coast we found Kokkari, a small town with a delightful quayside lined with restaurants and bars. Having purposely avoided the school holidays, they were busy enough not to lack atmosphere in the evenings but quiet enough to get a waterside table each night. The town’s beaches, however, were busy almost from sunrise to sunset, with tourists, mainly Dutch and German, desperate to catch the last of the warm summer rays. I was heading in the right direction but still not quite quiet enough.

The next attempt was Patmos. The ferry left Samos and stopped en route at the tiny islands of Arkoi and Agathonissi – secluded rocky outcrops with perhaps only ten families still permanently living there. Arriving in Patmos, the port felt like a ‘working’ port, and not as geared up around tourists. I was hopeful. The sketchy bus network meant the only way to find my beach was to hire a car. As is typical of the Greek way of life, hiring the car involved less paperwork than hiring a surfboard somewhere in Devon. Crowning the hill above Patmos port is the Monastery of St. John the Evangelist. Built like a fortress, it resembles a Byzantine castle and can be seen from most of the island atop the white-walled town of Chora. Along with the Cave of the Apocalypse, reputed to be where St. John wrote the Book of Revelations, these are the main attractions that draw tourists to Patmos, which meant the beaches should be less visited.

Having read that there were no traffic lights on the island and there was a beach that was only accessible by boat or a 40 minute walk, I was growing ever more optimistic that my idealistic beach was near and set out to find it. Several wrong turns later and we’re attempting a three-point-turn on a narrow rocky dirt track more suited for a 4x4 than our struggling Fiat Panda from “Tom & Jerry rent-a-car”. Eventually a small line of parked cars and a sign for Psili Ammos, “fine sand”, suggested we were in the right place. A rocky footpath over the cliffs led us to a beautiful wide, sandy beach nestled between two headlands.

We did find the beach but it wasn’t the one that took 40 minutes to walk to. Psili Ammos was beautiful and sandy, but lying on the west of the island it was so unsheltered from the wind and the water too wavy to tick off all the boxes. The best beach was one not advertised anywhere, with just one taverna to choose from and a row of trees to provide shade. The crystal clear water was as inviting as any tropical beach and although it was fine shingle and not white sand, rather than putting me off, it just meant that other tourists were discouraged from staying.

The Painted Hall

They say that travel broadens the mind but they forget to warn that often the most surprising travel experiences can be found far closer to home than you might expect.

Earlier this week, I was fortunate to visit the Painted Hall at Greenwich’s Old Royal Naval College. I’ve never been so impressed than when we walked through the doors and up the stairwell and truly had a ‘wow’ moment. And then I remembered that I wasn’t in a Renaissance church or grand parliamentary building in Europe. I was in Greenwich. In London. Less than 10 miles from home.

I had taken a Thames Clipper cruise from the London Eye, in the heart of London and seen many of the city’s greatest tourist attractions: The Palace of Westminster, Tate Modern, St Paul’s Cathedral and the Tower of London. After sailing under the iconic Tower Bridge, the captain announced we should take our seats. The boat would be speeding up to 60 km/h to take us past Rotherhithe, the Angel pub near Bermondsey (one of my favourite London riverside pubs), Canary Wharf and finally into Greenwich, alongside the Cutty Sark, which after numerous setbacks, has nearly completed its restoration.

Walking through the riverside gates of the Old Royal Naval College, with the perfect symmetry of the white baroque buildings on both sides, and the Observatory at the top of the hill ahead, was an unusual honour, as they are not normally open to the public but completed the maritime experience.

The 300-year old Painted Hall can justifiably claim to be the finest dining hall in the Western world. The high walls and domed ceilings are decorated with stunning fresco paintings by James Thornhill and was originally planned to be dining hall of the hospital. Having taken 19 years to paint, it was eventually decided that it was too grand for the pensioners to eat in, and had become one of London’s first tourist attractions. The Painted Hall was empty until 1806, when Admiral Lord Nelson’s body was brought to lie in state after his death at Cape Trafalgar. It then became the National Gallery of Naval Art, and remained so until the 1930s. From 1939 the Painted Hall was in use as a dining hall once again, which continued until the Royal Navy’s departure in 1998.
The hall is part of the Maritime Greenwich World Heritage Site, a title of which it fully deserves. It is certainly one of London’s unknown gems, and whilst a part of me hopes that it remains exactly that, it seems unfair that so few are aware of the capital’s original tourist attraction.

Thanks to Visit Greenwich and TravMedia for arranging such a great evening at a beautiful venue.

For further information about the Painted Hall visit http://www.oldroyalnavalcollege.org/the-painted-hall/

Blue-Footed Booby Day

The blue-footed booby is perhaps one of the Galapagos’ best-loved and most photographed birds. And the name never fails to provoke smile. Booby comes from the Spanish term bobo, which means ‘stupid’ or ‘fool’/ ‘clown’ because on land they are at their most clumsy and seem awkward.

For the males, the bluer the feet, the more attractive he is to a potential mate. During mating rituals he shows them off by stomping his feet in a step-like dance and flapping his wings. Boobies use their feet to keep their eggs warm and both males and females take turns to incubate them, while the other keeps guard.

Boobies live off the western coasts of Central and South America but are most easily seen on the Galapagos Islands where almost half of the world’s breeding pairs are found. Unusually, their nostrils are permanently closed to make them exceptional divers and can drop into the water from heights of 24 m. They breathe through the corners of their mouths.

Friday 17 June is Blue-Footed Booby Day. Set up by the Galapagos Conservation Trust (GCT), funds are raised to help protect the unique animals of the Galapagos and support the Trust’s work. For more information visit http://www.savegalapagos.org/bluefootedboobyday/ or donate £2 by texting BFBD11 to 70070. For £25 you can adopt your own booby.

Scratching Below the Surface

Recently I was given a present that has proved more controversial than I could have imagined: a World Scratch Map. The idea is that once you’ve visited a country the top gold foil layer can be scratched off to reveal a more detailed map underneath. The controversy came upon deciding how much of a country I needed to visit to say I’ve actually been there.

Does a weekend in Paris warrant scratching off all of France? Is it enough to have visited Disneyland to reveal all of the US? Can you scratch off Egypt if you’ve just spent two weeks on the beaches of Sharm el Sheikh or do you need to see the Pyramids of Giza and the ancient temples of Luxor as well?

Everyone I’ve discussed this with has their own opinion. One felt that having the passport stamp alone was enough, another thought they had to at least leave the airport and someone else said they would need to eat a meal in a local restaurant. I don’t think you can say you’ve visited the United Arab Emirates because you have changed planes in Dubai en route to the Far East; but having lived in Peru for six months and been back three times since, there are still places I want to see so have I been there enough either?

Can you ever measure the amount of a country you have seen, or is it just down to the experience you have had there? And, as travellers, why does it matter to us so much to say that we’ve been there and done that?

The Travelers’ Century Club is an organisation set up for travellers who can prove they have visited more than 100 countries. These criteria may seem straightforward enough but what in fact constitutes proof, and what even constitutes a country?

The United Nations says the world has 192 countries as it recognises 192 member states. But what about Kosovo and the Vatican City? Don’t these count too? The Travelers’ Century Club by contrast lists 320 countries, but admits these aren’t all countries – some are off-shoots of parents or ethnological regions.

American millionaire Charles Veley not only claims to be the world’s most travelled man, he is also founder of the Most Traveled People Club: 10,000 competitive travellers, who stipulate that a claim to have visited a country can only be verified if accompanied by a photograph, passport stamp and a receipt. Club members have voted to recognise 872 countries, including islands, regions and major provinces.

On reflection, the debate is really about what kind of traveller we each are. The person who lies on their sunlounger in Sharm has a different experience of Egypt to the couple cruising down the Nile. Each will have photographs and passport stamps and may have eaten a local meal. But can you capture a country in a photograph, or is a visit to a country more about a particular memory or unexpected adventure?

As Mr Veley says, with his current score of 819 countries, “It’s not enough to visit New York and say you’ve been to the United States.

Timkat Festival, Ethiopia

Timkat, meaning Epiphany, is one of Ethiopia’s most renowned and colourful festivals and is celebrated in towns and villages across the country. I joined the two-day festivities in Addis Ababa, which commemorates the Baptism of Jesus and provides a rare glimpse into a tradition that dates back over 1000 years.

Ketera, the day before Timkat, takes place on Tir 10(January 18) every year. Ethiopians dressed in their finest white shawls attend an early afternoon mass service in their local church. Priests and deacons wear elaborate ceremonial robes and are shaded by magnificently colourful and sequinned umbrellas. The courtyards and pavements are covered in grass so the procession of the Ark of the Covenant has a clean and decorated path to follow. In larger towns, there is a dedicated baptismal pool for the festival, but in smaller villages and communities any pool of water or stream can be used.

After the mass, the congregation outside the church sees the revered replica of the Ark of the Covenant, the Tabot, for the first time. It is carried on the head of one of the priests and is covered by layers of rich cloth, supposedly to protect it from the gaze of the impious. Priests perform chants and liturgical dances, whilst swinging sistras (silver religious bells) and bronze incense burners. On its sighting, the women begin ululating, a piercing and prolonged cry of joy, which is repeated throughout the festival’s entirety. The Tabot leaves the church in a procession with other priests, choirs and congregation to the continued sounds of the chanting and ululations and wafting incense.

Depending on the location of each church in the city, a procession can take two or three hours to arrive at the Jal Meda (a large field where the central festival in Addis takes place). The atmosphere has changed to a more lively and celebratory mood, and the choirs preceding each Tabot all sing and dance to signal their arrival. In the late afternoon, once all of the Tabots have gathered on the Jal Meda, the Patriarch of the Eastern Orthodox Church performs a blessing and the liturgical chants continue. The Tabots spend the night in ceremonial tents close by and the priests pray throughout the night. Crowds also stay overnight on the field, talking and praying.

By dawn, thousands of worshippers reassemble around the bathing pool in the centre of the Jal Meda for the focal point of the festival. After a mass, the Patriarch dips his cross in the water to bless it and sprays the nearby crowds to symbolise their rebaptism. At other festival sites, the most important priest present performs the blessing. At the Jal Meda, there were between 80,000 and 100,000 gathered, all with the same aim of being doused in Holy water. With such high numbers it is impossible for the priest to cover everyone, so younger priests use hose pipes connected to the blessed pool to spray those further away. The shrill ululations are at almost deafening levels. Empty plastic bottles are thrown into the central baptismal area in desperation that some of the water will be collected for them.

Late morning, the crowds begin to disperse and the Tabots start returning back to their churches with the worshippers in a jubilant and lively procession.

Irrespective of any religious beliefs, the two days spent at the Timkat festival were fascinating. I was astonished by the sense of peace and serenity throughout the two-day event and it was a real privilege to have been able to witness such a historic and important event in the Ethiopian Orthodox church.