Or perhaps letting the proportions of Stowe church’s graceful white steeple drag at some nostalgic
Or perhaps letting the proportions of Stowe church’s graceful white steeple drag at some nostalgic, It’s A Wonderful Life heartstrings you didn’t know you had, and calculating if you can make it into the Green Mountain Inn’s generously open arms for a swift half before the car inches forward.Ten minutes up the appropriately named Mountain Road we entered the private development of Robinsons Springs – no hunting, swimming or fishing. The only junction is presided over by a completely ineffectual blinking light that seems to serve no purpose other than to hypnotise all the drivers in the left-turn lane into a kind of daze, so that when the road is clear they just sit and dribble. All you see is snow, hills and a frozen river with a Tolstoyesque railway line running alongside Route 100.As you draw into Stowe, quality-controlled decorative wooden signs, lit by what looks like gaslight, whisper in your ear that you might want to come in out of the cold and have a cup of hot chocolate sprinkled with mini-marshmallows. As you approach the town there are no giant fibreglass flashing doughnuts, no dingy motels, no acres of tarmac dotted with vast children necking obesity burgers. But we are a family of three now, two adults and a 20-month-old baby, and boozy lunches and crushes on ski instructors are off the agenda.Driving into Stowe, Vermont is a surreal experience for anyone who is familiar with modern America, because there is no strip. All branch lines are instantly closed, and blood refuses to flow any further north or south than my cardiac M25.I also went on a skiing trip organised by my school – although I remember more about the consumption of illicit gluhwein and the party of Harrovians at the adjoining hotel than the perfection of a snowflake, but in my defence, I was at a very hormonal stage.And that was the last time I skied.So when some friends said they were renting a large house in northern Vermont, where there was guaranteed snow, skiing and a plethora of open fires sporting chestnuts roasting thereon, and would we like to join them, I dropped the Winter Sun brochure in the bin and dug out my frequent-flyer mileage tally.Part of me lamented in advance missing the French-style skiing holiday – long boozy lunches, compulsorily sexy instructor telling you to “snoo ploo” and plant your “steek”. We stayed in a vast hotel, with a cavernous subterranean hell where you rented your skis, and I remember sitting down in a blizzard and feeling inconceivably, astonishingly, illegally cold.It seems that I only have to look out of the window and see snow, and my circulation gives up right there.
The whole of London seemed to be there, riding everything from the traditional wooden slatted toboggan to tin trays and bin bags.
I learnt to ski in the late Seventies on family package holidays to France. I don’t know whether to blame global warming or a faulty memory, but I am sure when I was young we went tobogganing down Primrose Hill every couple of years. I remember staring at a snowflake stuck to a window, marvelling at its perfection and astonishing intricacy… then my breath melted it into a speck of water, and I turned my attention to the other 45 billion perfect snowflakes that had landed in the meantime. The absence of snow from my life is a matter of great regret.
In fact, snowflakes that fall on my nose and eyelashes are examples of a few of my favourite things. The focal point is the balmy courtyard, with its gleaming marble floor, but the most spectacular view is from the rooftop pool which overlooks the medina and port with its constantly circling flocks of seagulls.L’Heure Bleue, 2 rue lbn Batouta, Bab Marrakech, Essaouira (00 212 44 78 34 34; www.heure-bleue ) Doubles start at €220 (£157), including breakfast.. This former 19th-century palace, which took three years to renovate, re-opened as a hotel just under 18 months ago with 16 rooms inspired by Africa, the Orient, England and Portugal. Doubles start at €80 (£57) including breakfast, or the whole riad (which sleeps up to 12) can be rented for €2,500 (£1,785) per week, B&B L’Heure Bleue, Essaouira L’Heure Bleue feels at times more colonial Africa than coastal Morocco, with its lofty marble porticos, wicker furniture, white linen and lush foliage. Staying here is like visiting friends.Tchaikana, Derb el Ferrane 25-Quartier Azbest, Medina, Marrakech (00 212 44 38 51 50; www.tchaikana ). Owned by a young Belgian couple, it offers stylish surroundings for a fraction of the cost of some of the more opulent riads in Marrakech.
The rooms have simple, white walls and are tastefully decorated in a minimalist vein using traditional fabrics and tribal art. The rooftop terrace has panoramic views over the medina and the hotel also houses a traditional Moroccan hammam.Riad Sheherazad, 23 Arsat Bennis Douh, Medina, Fez (00 212 5574 1642; www.sheheraz ). Doubles start at £120, including breakfast Tchaikana, Marrakech At the end of a particularly hard-to-find alley in the medina, Tchaikana is a small riad which takes its name from the traditional travellers’ inns that once served tea. Sheherazad, Fez Opened two years ago, Riad Sheherazad offers an authentic, if luxurious, slice of riad life. It is housed in an old 19th-century townhouse in the heart of Fez’s throbbing medina.
The core of this 13-bedroom hotel is a large, tiled courtyard-cum-Moorish-garden containing a swimming pool fringed by tall palm trees. There is also a spa and the bar and restaurant are one of the town’s most atmospheric places for dinner.Villa Maroc, rue Abdellah Ben Yassine, Medina, Essaouira (00 212 44 47 31 47; www.villa-maroc ) Doubles start at €83 (£54), including breakfast. It is decked out in true Moroccan style: tiles, carved furniture, textiles, rugs and Moroccan lamps are combined to charming effect and offset with thoughtful touches like vases brimming with fresh roses. The Villa Maroc is a rambling property – actually four interconnecting houses – set around a series of small courtyards in the heart of Essaouira’s Unesco World-Heritage-listed medina. But one of the first, which opened 16 years ago, is still hard to beat.
