We’re all up for a bit of urban redevelopment and this is one of the best examples happening anywhere in the world at the moment. The 22 storeys of the Toren Overhoeks are undergoing a complete overhaul with a musical edge to become A’DAM Tower. Here, you’ll find music schools, nightclubs and a number of restaurants, including Moon, which revolves to offer 360-degree views of the city. Be close to all this action at Sir Adam, which opened in late 2016. Not surprisingly, there’s a music theme to its low-key luxe rooms, with Crosley turntables, vinyl records, original artwork and mirrors etched with lyrics. The huge windows are also decked out with benches so you can look out over the city while listening to some fresh beats.
Ever fancied sleeping in an ice cave? Sweden’s Icehotel has to be one of the globe’s most wildly dreamy buildings, constructed from scratch every year entirely out of ice and snow deep in the Arctic Circle. Each year artists from all over the world come together in the village of Jukkasjärvi, next to the Torne River, to take part in creating designs out of snow, ice and the magical light. You’ll tuck in for the night atop a bed frame expertly carved from ice and under a snug reindeer hide, naturally.
Not only can you stay in this beautiful sub-zero structure, but you can also learn the art of ice sculpting too. If that all sounds a little too much like hard work then perhaps retire to the Icebar instead for a cocktail served up in a chiselled ice glass.
And if you can’t visit during Europe’s winter, then fear not – you can still have the Icehotel experience. As of December last year the new Icehotel 365 opened earning the property the grand claim to fame of world’s first permanent ice and snow hotel.
When we first went to Italy’s capital as teenage backpackers, we stayed in spare rooms in a nun’s quarters. Not exactly party central. You canunderstand, then, our excitement arriving at this treasure. Around the corner from Piazza Navona and with five-star features, G-Rough is anything but. Within the raw concrete walls of each of its 10 suites, set in a building from the 1600s, are pieces of furniture by famed Italian designers including Giò Ponti. The wine bar is a much more luxe space, but its best-kept secret is the tiny roof terrace. Wait until the sun is dropping from the sky and head up here with an Aperol spritz to watch the sky, with its horizon of tiled roofs and cathedral domes, turn golden.
It’s time to add ‘stay the night on a crane’ to your bucket list, just so you can tick it off here. Perched beside the Wadden Sea, the crane, which was built in 1967 and unloaded timber until 1996, offers 360-degree views of historic Harlingen from its retreat for two in the machine room. Head up a set of stairs and you’re in the cabin. Here, you can tentatively swing from left to right like you’ve always seen but never done. If you can pull yourself away from your real-life Tonka truck, head down the lift to the ground and explore the beautiful ports and Harlingen lighthouse.
You already know Berlin is one of the coolest cities in Europe – if not the world. With its creative culture, gritty bars and high-octane nightlife, the place has urban style sorted. The new 58-room Hotel Provocateur – a Design Hotel – has been shaking things up since its opening in February 2017. Forget the industrial look that’s swept through the design scene lately and enter a world of burlesque that channels the glamour of 1920s Paris. Once your eyes adjust to the light you’ll spot glimmering chandeliers, shadowy corners perfect for whispering sweet nothings, blood red, onyx and gold furnishings, and fabrics begging for your touch. Don’t forget to visit the restaurant run by star chef Duc Ngo, because playing temptress is ravenous work.
Dating back to 1198, the Brazen Head is reputed to be Dublin’s oldest pub and one of the best for live tunes. Kick back next to a flaming open fire, with a pint of Guinness and tuck into one of the hearty meals in any of the pub’s three rooms.
During the warmer months you can soak it all up in the cobbled-stoned beer garden, or you can always huddle up under a gas heater and muse over the locals who used to haunt here. Rumour has it that this is where the Irish rebel Robert Emmet planned his uprising.
The Brazen Head has an extensive collection of Irish whiskies, Guinness, gins and vodkas from around the world, as well as a selection of wines, and a fully stocked bar. There’s traditional Irish music to warm the cockles of your heart and a fine selection of trad Irish food on offer. Try the Irish stew, bangers and mash or if you really want authentic Irish fare go for the Clonakilty Black Pudding Salad.
It’s easy to feel drained in our overstimulated society, but here the motto is sem hora marcada – take your time – and Areias do Seixo delivers in spades. The design and architecture ooze intimacy and ambience in the hotel’s 14 rooms and three villas, creatively transforming each space using elements of concrete, steel, wood and glass. Here it’s all about savouring the moment, so you won’t find TVs and gadgets in your abode – they’ve been swapped for private jacuzzis, plush bedding, stylish fireplaces and a waterfront terrace, all carefully curated for a sensory experience. Wander through the dunes to the beach, enjoy wine and nibbles at the nightly bonfire, or catch some rays by the infinity pool. Expect to embrace what it means simply to feel; don’t expect a desire to leave.
Ahoy, me hearties! What have we got here? In the maritime town of Umeå, Stora Hotellet has been a refuge for salty ol’ sea dogs since 1895. Then, the Seaman’s Mission built what was the grandest hotel in the city, and soon members of high society were mixing with sailors on leave. To celebrate Umeå’s anointment as the European Capital of Culture in 2015, these historic digs were given a full nip and tuck. The six room categories are named for sailors’ preoccupations and elements of the decor – a chandelier made from rope and plexiglass that resembles a ship’s rigging and antique scientific equipment on display in the drawing room – represent the hotel’s former life.
The Superstition rooms, although compact, have deluxe bunk beds inspired by a boat’s cabin tucked into the hotel’s eaves, while the larger suites are more like you’d expect on the upper deck of a luxury liner (although one from a grander age). The super-cool restaurant, named after the hotel’s first manager, Gotthard Zetterberg, serves dishes given the names of other seaports around the world.
Rabbit jumping is an actual thing. This is something you’d know if you were an aficionado of Hamish Blake and Andy Lee’s Gap Year series. In Euro Gap Year, as part of a trip to Sweden, they buy a bunny – its name is Socks, which they quickly change to Lenny Rabbitz – and enter it in a jumping competition. It’s a bit like showjumping for horses, but with rabbits on leashes leaping over not insubstantial obstacles instead. Yes, it is completely absurd and, in the hands of the comedians, absolutely hilarious.
“It was my very first shoot with the boys in Europe,” says freelance television producer Frank Bruzzese. “We put on the rabbit jumping event so we could participate. No one was really there and it wasn’t as grand as I thought it would be. In hindsight, I was thinking, ‘How many people are into rabbit jumping?’”
Thankfully, due to the wonders of filming, the powers of post-production, the natural charisma of the hosts and an inadvertently hilarious cottontail (you can find the segment on YouTube), it turned out all right on the night.
“It’s interesting to see the stories I’ve enjoyed on the day, how they’re shaped in the edit, and which stories kind of take on a life of their own in that process,” continues Bruzzese. “It’s really lovely to be able to go and do the travelling then to see it right through to the final product. You get to nurture it all the way.”
In a notoriously tough industry, Frank Bruzzese seems to have struck gold. While studying at La Trobe University he was fortunate enough to do a placement on Neighbours. From the contacts he made there he went on to work on The X Factor, Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?, 1 vs. 100, Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader? and Rove. That’s where he met Blake and Lee and, before long, he found himself on the production team for Euro Gap Year and the Hamish and Andy series that followed: Gap Year Asia, Caravan of Courage and Gap Year South America.
“It does, on the outside, look like the best job in the world,” says Bruzzese, “and there are times where I feel extremely fortunate to be doing what I’m doing. But there are times where you just go, ‘I don’t want to go to another airport.’”
There’s certainly not a lot of time to kick back and enjoy the exotic locales. After pitching ideas as a team and sitting with a map trying to work out what stories might be achievable, Bruzzese and another producer head off on a three-to four-week recce (that’s the industry term for reconnaissance) to see if the ideas on paper can be transformed into television gold. The pair is then joined by the rest of the team and shooting commences, usually for another four or five weeks. In the space of a couple of months, Frank covers a lot of ground.
“In Europe, with the recce and shooting combined, I did 37 flights in 43 days,” he says. “That’s a lot of airports. And when you’re travelling with 23 bags, it’s a lot of time checking in. We have to arrive two-and-a-half hours early at every airport, so once you factor that into your day, it really blows them out. We often have to film on those days too.”
As well as the infinite delays that occur on the road while you’re actually moving, there’s also the uncertainty of dealing with people who aren’t necessarily on the same wavelength when it comes to production schedules. On a recce, Bruzzese meets all the people who’ll be involved in shooting a five-minute segment and, after briefing Lee and Blake on what to expect, ensures all the building blocks are there to make it happen.
“There are times when people won’t turn up,” he says of the more frustrating aspects of filming. “They’re not actors, just everyday people. In Russia, for instance, I was warned, ‘well, they’ll turn up when they want to turn up.’ So people would arrive two or three hours late, not realising that we’re structured so tightly that three hours hurts us, because we probably have to catch a flight later that day.”
For all the organising though – of people, luggage, schedules and meals – there’s still plenty of adventure to be had. Bruzzese once found himself lost underground. “I found myself on a recce meeting a cataphile, one of the young guys who basically carves out their own maps in the labyrinth of catacombs beneath Paris,” he explains. “It’s midnight and the next thing I know I’m squeezing through a hole 60 centimetres wide and five metres below Paris with a guy who doesn’t speak English and a fixer who does speak English. Then we got lost for about 45 minutes. They were bickering in French and I was going, ‘I just want to get out of here.’ That was an interesting phone call back to the office the next day: ‘I was stuck in the bowels of Paris for a good hour.’”
Then there are the countries that, had he been planning a holiday, would never make it on to the itinerary. There are good reasons for some of them to never appear on anyone’s must-do list, but others are complete gems. For Bruzzese that place is Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina. There he met a sporting team made up of men who’d been victims of the bloody war and are now the world champions of sit-down volleyball. “We got to meet these incredible guys who are just living their lives and are hugely successful,” he explains. “You can’t get away from it [the war] there. Driving around, there are buildings that still have huge shrapnel wounds. It was really humbling. I’ve never been to a place like that before.
“Just the history there blew me away. I wasn’t expecting to feel that way about Bosnia – I had no expectations, really – but I left knowing I definitely needed to go back.”
For three hours, we’ve been taking advantage of strong winds, weaving along the coastline and seeking refuge from the building momentum of the open swell. Sheer limestone, topped with thick vegetation, erupts from the water to create tall rocky islands. We’re heading towards Ston, a southern town on Croatia’s Pelješac Peninsula.
As we sail up the inlet, a European twin to the Great Wall of China materialises on the hills before us. Fortifications enclose the town then snake up over the mountain. Travelling five kilometres, all the way to Mali Ston (Little Ston), it is the world’s second-longest wall.
It’s day four of our five-day sailing adventure along the South Dalmatian coast. Summer is still on its way, and the weather in these parts can be somewhat unpredictable at this time of year. When we boarded the catamaran Tom Sawyer in Dubrovnik, our skipper Zeljko warned the itinerary would change depending on conditions. The upside is we’re dodging the massive summer crowds who’ll flock to the area in the coming weeks. As we sailed away from the city we passed three colossal cruise liners – soon, there’ll be 12 a day heading into the harbour.
Ston isn’t only famous for its wall. It’s also renowned for its superior oysters and mussels. Before we head to shore, I pocket a lemon from the galley in the hope a delicious slippery partner can be found. We are greeted by Zeljko’s friends Ante and Sanja, who own Bistro Stagnum. Ante drives us to Little Ston to meet his brother Branko, who happens to be a third-generation oyster farmer. The fertile waters are clustered with oyster farms that are only detectable by simple wooden frames poised just above the surface.
Branko arrives in his dinghy with freshly hauled oyster lines and deftly cuts the craggy shells free from the overgrown nets. He shucks each one to reveal the salty treats within. It is prime oyster season, so these mature beauties are giant nuggets of meaty, creamy flesh. It’s a rustic setting, just a weathered table by the water, but I’m in oyster heaven. Branko scoops a massive bounty of fresh mussels into a bag for us to deliver to Sanja.
Ante and Sanja have kindly opened their restaurant courtyard to serve us lunch, and we’re soon tucking into platters of steaming mussels and fresh bread. Such a meal would not be complete without a crisp white, and Ante serves a delicious žlahtina wine indigenous to the island of Krk, much further north.
Long seafood lunches aren’t exactly unheard of when it comes to exploring the Croatian coastline, but afterwards I’m reminded of why this one with Huck Finn Adventure Travel is different. Instead of heading back to the Tom Sawyer and lazing away the afternoon on deck, we burn off lunch climbing the narrow steps of the town walls.
From Ston’s town walls, tessellated salt flats – the source of another of Ston’s highly regarded exports – are clearly visible. For a tiny town it packs a big produce punch, but we’ve got a three-hour journey to reach our evening stop at Zaton Bay, so we grab just one more thing: a bottle of Ston’s finest wine to sip on the deck. As the sun sets behind us, we take turns playing our favourite tunes. With musical tastes spanning the world, it turns out to be quite the eclectic twilight mix tape.
Loaded on to the Tom Sawyer is a collection of bicycles, kayaks and paddleboards, so instead of simply peering at tiny dots of paradise like Lopud Island – it has just a hundred residents during winter and travel is by foot, bicycle and golf cart – we take on its landscape. On that first day – the first stop no less – we hiked to Polacica peak. After a lung-straining ascent, we arrived at the remnants of the fifteenth-century Sutvraˇc fort. This is guide Maja’s local secret and clearly not on the tourist trail. The fort has crumbled beyond recognition and navigating around it is quite treacherous. We end up 215 metres above where our catamaran awaits, and the view of Lopud and the ocean dotted with islands was a breathtaking introduction to what was yet to be explored.
Our days are filled with sailing and a variety of activities. That afternoon we arrive at Šipan Island with a hurried plan to cycle to the other side of the island by nightfall. The distinct fragrance of wisteria fills the nostrils as we pedal along quiet roads. When the climb becomes too savage we get off and push, but this also allows us to absorb the postcard countryside. It’s a vista of citrus groves, family vineyards and ruins abandoned in a tangle of ivy. Our destination is Suˉduraˉd, a petite harbour boxing in rows of weathered fishing boats. It appears deserted except for some excitable children too focused on kicking a ball to notice the tourists riding past.
Next we visit a local legend: Dubravka restaurant in Šipanska Luka, regarded by locals and sailors as the place to eat. Although it’s still closed for off-season, its owner Djino has opened tonight just for us. I feel like a celebrity, dining in an empty restaurant with an off-kilter ratio of staff. We are presented with a feast of smoked tuna with goat’s cheese, cuttlefish and potato salad, seafood risotto and grilled swordfish. The meal is accompanied by two delicious Croatian white wines: a crisp graševina and malvazija.
One morning the bitter, intense bura winds wake us. They churn up the forecast calm sea, foiling the day’s plans. Rather than hide, we decide to use them for a proper sail. The engine is cut, the main sail erected and we set off accompanied by the sound of clanging shackles and frantically cracking sails. It feels more like Bass Strait than the idyllic Adriatic Sea. Facing the icy winds, I pop my headphones in and focus on the horizon. Playing tunes that simulate our yacht’s sway, I’m distracted by my private makeshift rave.
Slightly frozen and windswept, we arrive at Polaˇce on Mljet Island just before midday. It’s called Shanghai during summer due to the congestion, but we face no competition at the dock. We set out on the bikes to explore the vast Mljet National Park. The first stretch of the 20-kilometre route is a punishing uphill slog, before a rewarding downhill run leads to an easy track that loops around two inland lakes that have an emerald colour and clarity to rival the waters of the Caribbean. Maja refers to their effect as natural Xanax. As we circle the sparkling water through the dense pine forest, the only sound comes from my tyres crunching over a blanket of fallen buds. A grand Benedictine monastery is a surprising sight amid the natural beauty. Set atop its own island, the twelfth-century structure appears to float on the lake. Lunch is arranged at a farmstay where we are treated to brodet, the renowned Croatian fish stew. Afterwards, my belly is full and my body reluctant to get moving again. My bike apparently agrees, as its chain snaps just as we conquer the uphill leg of the return. Luckily I can coast back to the dock.
Zeljko moves us into a protected bay, so anyone brave enough can take a dip. The water looks enticingly tropical, yet is deceptively brisk at only 15ºC. Adopting a no-chance-to-bail-out method, I leap in. The shock is instant and the frigid temperature burns as I frantically kick underwater to dull the pain. Thankfully a warm shower is primed to go to defrost my numb body.
Assessing the ever-changing weather each morning becomes a familiar routine. One early walk over cliffs reveals a relatively calm sea towards Koloˇcep Island. The plan is to stand-up paddleboard into the island’s caves, something that requires perfect conditions. Aware that these change rapidly, we race to make our window of opportunity. In less than an hour we round the island only to have our hopes dashed. The crux of the plan entails lying facedown on a paddleboard to squeeze through a low gap, which is now barely distinguishable beyond the swell. Unpredictable waves rebounding from within means there is a good chance of losing the back of your skull on a badly timed entry. Frustrated but unanimous, we abandon that plan and deploy kayaks to circumnavigate the island instead.
The dramatic cliffs plunging straight into pounding waves dwarf us as we paddle alongside them. The bumpy ride churns my stomach, a strong incentive to paddle hard towards more protected waters. Skirting the island we explore archways leading to calm caverns within. A few entrances are only slightly wider than my kayak, requiring a nervous paddling act to avoid being bashed against the rock. The rolling waves that look so gentle from afar are quite the sodden workout in the kayak.
On the final day of the tour, we sail to Zaton Bay for a farewell lunch in the village of Stikovica. With no mooring, we drop anchor in front of a beach restaurant and weigh up our options to get to shore. Paddleboarding wins as the quickest mode, although it’s also the riskiest in dry clothing. Still, it’s a unique way to arrive at lunch.
This has been a private way to see this often-crowded coastline. For days we’ve seen no other yachts or tourists. Visiting on the cusp of summer has required more beanies than bikinis, but we were never here to work on our suntans anyway.
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