Avoriaz, France

Getting to Avoriaz is pretty exciting all by itself and, if you haven't been before, can sound confusing in the abstract. Our man Andy, who had arranged our accommodation through another apartment owner (all his were full) and transfer with his friend Roland, kept saying things about lift passes and expressed concerned about whether the gondola would still be running when we arrived. Also, a google of 'geneva to Avoriaz' only brought up things like Morzine Expresss.

But when Brit ex-pat Roland met us, it all became clear. It's road travel all the way to Morzine, a ridiculously pretty town of streets lined with Heidi-style chalet shops and restaurants, followed by the high-speed Prodane gondola up the sheer rock face to Avoriaz, at 1,800m. In fact, the tower blocks of apartments blend just enough with the color of the cliffs to look at first glance like an extension of them.

Designed and built in the mid-1960s for the sole purpose of being a ski resort, you could be forgiven for thinking it wouldn't have a lot of charm. And while it isn't pretty the way Morzine or Megéve are, the place starts to grow on you fairly quickly.

One of its charms is being car-free, so transportation is limited to skis or boards, walking or horse-drawn – and in one case we saw, husky-drawn – sleds. Even delivery trucks are on runners, which gives the place a peaceful, quiet, relaxed feel. Also, it is, of course, very convenient. Steps from the front door of our apartment building ('Snow') was a supermarket with on-site bakery (essential for those morning croissants) and a café/bar that served great food at mealtimes, then mutated into a live-music venue during the late afternoon. In fact, just about everything was a few steps from Snow, including the lift-pass cashiers, ski hire, tourist office, souvenir shops, skating rink and children's snowpark.

It's also the ultimate ski-in/ski-out town because, as it's on a slope, with chairlifts taking off at the bottom of town and stopping at the top, you literally put your skis on on the doorstep and off you go.

 We were lucky in that it had snowed a lot in the previous week, but not at all during our four days, so we got all the blue skies and  sunshine. In fact, as we'd come the first week of March, on our third day, it was seriously hot, with the snow heavy slush on the lower slopes.

Buy an Avoriaz pass (€40 per day) to ski just in this domain. It won't disappoint, as there's plenty of skiing here, cleverly divided into two distinct areas so you can always escape the crowds, wind, sun or shade, depending on the conditions; or go the whole hog and get a Portes du Soleil pass (€48), which opens up whole other valleys and – even – countries, as Avoriaz sits practically on the Swiss border. We only did this on one day because there really is plenty of skiing just in Avoriaz.

However, our day over on the slopes above Chatel was sublime. This is a place I went to about six years ago now, when I did my first peak-week ski holiday repping, and the whole experience made a big impact on me for lots of reasons (this would take at least another whole other blog to explain!), so suffice to say the place holds a special place in my heart and it meant a lot to me to go back. Also, we cleverly skied through lunchtime (12-2pm) and had the pistes to ourselves for two hours. Awesomely amazing.

A word about the Swiss border: when we arrived, there was one of those sweet-looking dogs trained to sniff out weed waiting to greet folks as they got off the lift. One of his tricks was jumping up to check out backpacks belonging to young men of the boarding persuasion, which made me think they could call them  'boarder' patrol (ha ha ha...).


On our last day, our mission was to visit the igloo we'd seen on our very first run of the first day. Inside it was another world: of snow carvings, disco balls, colored lights, banging music and a bar. But, being our last day, we wanted to enjoy that most Alpine experience of sitting outside, soaking in the mountains in the sunshine and enjoying the kind of carb-fest you can only allow yourself when you're spending hours a day hitting the slopes.

Would I recommend it? Let's just say that, on our last night, we were looking in the real-estate agents' windows...

Avoriaz from above

Cordon, France

Am writing this from the dining/breakfast room of Les Bruyères, a two-star hotel above the small village of Cordon, about an hour's drive from Geneva, just before you get to the better-known ski towns of Combloux and Megève. Mont Blanc, which is across the valley from me and seen through a huge picture window, seems to be winning a battle with the clouds, so it looks likely to be another beautiful day in the Portes des Mont Blanc region.

I was looking for somewhere to skip away to for a quick few days of skiing, so I didn't want a huge long drive after we landed in Geneva. I'd been to Mefève twice before – once in winter, for a few days' skiing courtesy of Stanford Skiing, who run a number of chalets and a hotel there, and again last summer (also courtesy of Stanford Skiing, who run a summer offering as well, for those who want to hike and enjoy the Alps without the snow – definitely to be recommended!) – so I knew the area a little and, crucially, that it didn't take long to get there. I was paying for myself and grown-up son, which is why I wanted to do it as cheaply as possible, hence the two-star. Yes, the decor was old-fashioned; true, the hot water took a very long time indeed to get a reasonable bath at the end of the day and, no, no one there spoke English, but? Aside from the hot water (if you ski, you know how nice it is to have a hot soak after a day on the slopes), those things actually made it quite charming. The old lady proprietess spoke to me in French and I spoke back in Franglish, to which she didn't bat an eye; the cook (who makes a mean omelette and home-made French fries [that's chips, if you're a Brit]) was always smiling and friendly; and it was very relaxed and homey. Also, as we found out on our last day, literally around the the next chicane (remember, we were high up a mountain) and about a 2-minute walk away from the front door, was the green slope of the Cordon ski domaine. This, by the way, is very limited: a couple of greens, a blue and a couple of reds, none very long, but if you felt like just running out the door and warming up, it was there.

We ended up doing most of our skiing in Combloux, the next town along. You can buy a ski pass that lets you ski Cordon, Combloux, Demi Quartiere, Les Gettiaz and Megève. Only Combloux and Les Gettiaz are connected by lifts/pistes, and none of them are vast like, say, the Portes du Soleil or Trois Vallées ski domaines. But, personally, I liked them all the better for that and for four days provided more than enough skiing.

We did ski Demi-Quartiere one day, just because we felt we ought to make full use of the ski pass, but Combloux was so nice and close and, as my son pointed out, very pretty, with piste-side pine forests. Even when the French school holidays kicked in on our last day, we never had to wait more than a couple of minutes to get on a lift, much of the time we had pistes to ourselves; and there's nothing like a mountainside Alpine lunch.

I still remember the first time I enjoyed this treat: as a north American, winter to me meant freezing. But in the Alps, there you are, surrounded by snow in the middle of winter, sitting in warm sunshine, your coat, hat and gloves shedded, wearing shades and eating cheesy, buttery carbs and, if you like, a glass of wine or a beer.

Hell, you can even get up and start partying, if you're anywhere near one of La Folie Deuce establishments (they're scattered about the Alps). Mid-afternoon, they kick off with DJs, party-starters in animal onesies dancing on tables and urge you to get involved. Not like the old days of northeastern USA skiing, where you huddled over your cocoa, trying to warm your frozen fingers.

We had two amazing evening meals out: one at Chalet d'Emilie, which is both slopeside at Combloux, so you can jump off the blue Gentiane run and stomp over the to Airstream parked on its patio and order a sandwich; or drive up in the evening and have a scrumptious dinner inside by the roaring fire for about €30 a head. Not bad for the Alps.

The other night out was at l'Alpaga, one of two Megève restaurants to receive its first Michelin star last winter. This was a sublime experience: the dining room is in a cube-shaped room with non-stop glass around three sides, all the staff speak perfect English and are happy to talk you through your dining experience, which starts with an extraordinary amuse-bouche of three items: a slice of vegetable purée with a delicate crumble topping, a pumpkin ball with melted chocolate inside and a square bite of another vegetable concoction. At the end of your meal, after you've gorged on artichokes three ways, porcini ravioli and cheeses, plus chocolate pudding – boom, back comes the amuse-bouche, but this time an inside-out sweet version. So, for instance, the ball is chocolate with a  bang of pumpkin inside. Amazing.

However! Easily as memorable was the crêpe stall in downtown Combloux, just down from the tourist office. We went after skiiing twice because the sucre buerre salé version was like Alpine crack...

Final tip: we rented a car from Europcar on the French side of Geneva airport. No problems with the rental company, no problems with the car. But, trying to return it? Like one of those weird horror-film sequences when the characters are stuck in a loop of time. We went round and round and round, through the closed police check border, through the tunnels, past the World Trade Center sign, over and over, trying to find the entrance to Geneva's French aiport. At long last, we took the small, inconspicous side road with a little black and white sign saying parking for 151 cars and, voilà, there we were. Maybe simpler to rent from the Swiss side!

Charmouth, Dorset

Go to the beach in February? It did seem kind of crazy, especially as this is turning out to be such a cold winter, but once we were below the clifftops, the wind dropped and the variations in light were worth it on their own. 

Charmouth is fossil central on the Jurassic Coast, as it's called, and there were a fair few people out with little hammers, knocking on rocks' doors, looking for those ammonites or – wouldn't it be amazing? – something even more exciting. 

I find, when I look up at the cliffs, I start imagining that every jutting rock could be a dinosaur vertebrae, but even if you don't find anything more thrilling than a broken belemnite, of which there are plenty, it's still a wonderful environment to be in. No wonder so many folk retire down here.

The thing to do is just go small. Stop, squat down and just look at the patch of ground in front of you. Interesting rocks, bits of sea glass, bits of fossil vertebrae of something... It almost doesn't matter. It's just the going small, the focus, the being there for a minute or two examining the world.

We didn't notice at first, but the tide was going out and, as it it did, these incredible clay flats emerged, sticky to walk on but not slippery or unsafe. It wasn't long before the sand beyond them became visible and dog walkers strutted out, throwing tennis balls.

Did we find anything?!!!! No. At least, not of the physical, pick-it-up-and-put-it-in-your-pocket sort. But a bit of beauty and peace? Plenty.

Sherbourne, Dorset

Head south-west out of London and, after a bit of Buckinghamshire and a slice of Hampshire, a serving of Wiltshire and just a taste of Somerset, you (finally!) get to Dorset, to my mind, one of England's nicest counties. Slightly wonky hills; beautiful, wild beaches; thick, high hedgerows lining the roads; and plenty of pretty towns, history and opportunities to go fossiling.

We've come down for a long weekend, staying in very sweet, thatch-roofed Mouse Cottage, courtesy of West Country Cottages. But, to break up the approx 3hr journey from town, we stopped in Sherbourne, also in Dorset, as it calls itself 'one of the prettiest towns in England'. Let's see, I said to companion...

Inside The George

I have to add here that, being that it's the first weekend of February when we visit, it's bitingly cold. The sun does something to take the teeth out of the wind, but not enough to make us want to spend too long outdoors, so it's going to be a quickie.

Cheap Street

We park in the pay-and-display car park, helpfully signposted as we entered town. It's conveniently just behind the high street, which is called, delightfully, Cheap Street. Our goal? Find a pub still serving lunch, as it's nearly 3pm. At the top of Cheap Street, we find two: The White Hart, which looks like it can't decide if it's open or not, even though the sign outside says it is, and, almost opposite, The George, which turns out to be the oldest pub in town.

This is the one we choose and yes, the waitress says, glancing at the clock, they're still serving. We quickly grab a table, get told the specials (variations on pork roast, lamb roast, beef roast and chilli with rice) and glance at the menu, which lists exactly what you'd expect from a pub: baked potatoes with various toppings; cod and chips, scampi and chips, and a ploughman's lunch (translated means: some form of bread, often a baquette, with Cheddar cheese, chutney pickle and sometimes a bit of salad on the side).


After lunch, we brave the cold with a brisk stomp down Cheap Street, which is, as promised very pretty, though the most arresting thing I see is a life-size statue of a bear on an upper terrace.

At the far end of the street is the Abbey (flying buttresses, very pretty, c-c-c-can we get back in the car now?), and then a quick trot back up the street, through the archway into the alley and round to the car park again.

The Abbey

Sorry, Sherbourne, I'm sure you deserve more time, but it will have to be on a warmer day.

Alhambra in January

It was about 60°F (that's 15°C for you Europeans!) in full sun down in Nerja, east along the coast about an hour's drive from Malaga, but up in Granada, you could shave another 15°F off that (so 7°-ish C) in the shade, making me wish I'd brought gloves and a hat for our jaunt. Happily, as the day wore on, the sun bore down ever brighter, warming things up.

What's astonishing if you're seeing it for the first time, is the juxtaposition of palm trees against a backdrop of snow-covered mountains, which alone makes a trip to the Alhambra at this time of year worth it. But there's another bonus: you mostly have it to yourself. Not entirely, but as close as you can probably get. So, tip 1: dress up warm, pick a sunny day and go in the middle of winter.

Among the delights of this 13th-century fortress-cum-palace-cum-extensive gardens is how you can wander about. I couldn't help thinking that, in another 10 or 15 years, they'll have laid down plank-covered walkways and you won't be able to just tramp over the ancient tiles. But, for now, what a delight to walk in the footsteps of all those who went before.

Granada seen from the Alhambra

Tip 2: Pre-book your ticket to visit the Nasrid Palace. It costs about €15 and you have to choose one of the half-hour entry slots (ie, 11am, 11.30am, etc). Once in, you can stay as long as you like, but you need to be in the line about 10 minutes beforehand.


We booked a 12.30 entry and arrived at the Alhambra at about 11am. I think we could have got there a half hour earlier or booked a slightly later entry, as the way it's laid out, you can see almost everything else before you go in to the Palace and, afterwards, head up to the Generalife gardens and building, which then feed you back to the car park. We tried to see most of the place, including some of the woods down below (though we skipped the art museum) and were in the grounds a total of about 6 hours.

One other thing to know about that ticket for the Palace: hang on to it! It will get you into Alcazaba, the old fortress, and the building in the Generalife gardens.

Alcazaba Fortress

Tip 3: The audio guide (€6.50) was almost useless (sorry, Alhambra!) and became something of a little joke between my companion and I. Mostly, it described what we could see when we arrived at each room or destination. I think, if you really want to go deep with the place, booking a human guide would be the way to go. Alternatively, the free map has an overview and timeline.

Lion fountain

We loved the old Moorish filagree windows and plasterwork, but best of all was the lion fountain. There was something so pure and simple about all that white marble against the intricate pillars and ceilings all around that was soothing and simply beautiful.

And the Generalife gardens, which contained various elements considered essential for a pleasing outdoor space – that is, water, spaces divided into equal parts and long walkways – provide plenty of picnic-spot possibilities, or just nice spaces to walk through and enjoy the views.

One final tip: driving in Spain is very straightforward, the roads aren't crowded, signs are clear – in fact, the ones for the Alhambra are in red, making it very easy to find from the highway (motorway, autobahn, whatever you call it!) – and our car rental, from Autos Tivoli in Nerja, cost us €45 for the day, plus about €10 in gas (petrol), so between two, it felt like the most comfortable way to travel, as we could suit ourselves. However, there are buses as well.

Good-bye 2014 and hello 2015!

Nerja

What a year! Plenty of the good stuff, including travels near and far, good times with friends old and new, and the positive progression of life, so I will look back fondly on this one. I do know it has been unbearably tragic for some, and I am thinking now of those whose travels ended in terrifying ways and the people who loved them; those who are caught up in seemingly endless conflict; whose lives are turned inside-out by the cruelty of pestilence and more everyday illness and diseases, which are no less devastating. So to them I say, may 2015 be kinder to you and may we all find ways to live beyond the sadness, be strong and live happy.

Not to be all preachy, but I think we may as well enjoy the beauty and opportunities to hold happiness close when we can, because none of us knows when it may be snatched away. And, on that note, it must be time to move on to tales of... Andalucia! Viva España!

Christmas tapas lunch on the terrace

This year's Christmas week was spent in what must be the town of Nerja's most charming house. Apologies for sounding so smug. It looks like the least imposing place on its pedestrianised street: just a door most folks would have to duck a little to get through, a single window above it, the façade as simple and plain as can be. But go inside and it widens out from the point of its front like a triangle, and has three terraces, five bedrooms and – best of all – a garden with fruit trees that runs straight to the sea.

I don't want to give its location away entirely, so will just add that it has strong family connections to Spanish poet and writer Federico Garcia Lorca.

Of course, we all know that much of the southern coast of Spain has seen overdevelopment in the form of not-so-charming holiday home development, but there is still plenty of beauty here and it's worth remembering that there's usually a reason an area becomes a popular holiday destination (ie, year-round warm sunshine, natural beauty, good food, pleasant ambience [can you tell I'm refraining from saying 'friendly, smiling locals'? But there is a general sense that visitors are a welcome addition rather than a curse]).

Frigiliana

One of the jolly things to do here is using the cheap and reliable public buses: €1.17 will take you, for instance, to Frigiliana, an archetypal, but no worse for that, white-washed hill town about a 20-minute ride inland. It has a fascinating history as well, filled with trouble and strife, the story told in painted tiles on walls as you walk up. Up being the operative word and, when you get reasonably high, look out for a tapas place offering terrace views.

If you pick up a map from the tourist office, you can follow the trail right out the top of town and up to where there was once a fort. There's no sign of it now – just three more-recent balustrades at strategic points to look out from – but you get the satisfaction of tremendous views, both to the sea and to the Sierra Tejeda, Almijara and Almara Natural Park inland –  and having somehow achieved something.


One small word of warning: there is a notice painted on walls at two stages, one just before the final ascent and another at the top, which shouldn't be ignored. They tell you that the donkeys which graze up here can bite. I don't know about that, but I do know they can charge and, also, quite aggressively try to kick you, so do not be taken in by their seemingly friendly manner if they start to approach. They are definitely not coming to say hello!