Of course there are ports of call, but when the Crystal Serenity hosts its Wine and Food Festival cruise, it’s all about the eating in between.

by Tiffany Hawk

His arm brushes past me as he leans in to grind fresh black pepper over my salad. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

He turns to face me “Vould you like the parmesan?”

I swoon. We all swoon. Men and women alike, we’re seated in the dining room aboard the Crystal Serenity and we’re all in love with Adrian, our Romanian waiter. We take in his dark skin, the thick eyebrows that almost hide his sweet, beguiling eyes. He’s known our names since the first dinner. He knows what we like to drink and what we’ll likely order even though the menu changes every night. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, he’s always there, always working and smiling as if there is nothing he’d rather be doing. He seems to genuinely enjoy taking care of us as if we were long lost family. I sense I’m getting special attention and imagine he’s falling in love with me. When he smiles at me, greets me in that mysterious, sinister-yet-sweet Dracula accent, I actually vant him to suck my blood. Rafael, one of my seat partners, swears he’s gay and that it’s him Adrian is in love with.

The service on this ship is so good that although there are more than 700 passengers, we’re each convinced we are the one. Most importantly, it isn’t the snooty service you might expect at a style hotel, nor is it the ingratiating “Yes master” service of some luxury resorts. From the housekeepers to the servers to the musicians, these people make us feel like welcome guests in their home. It doesn’t hurt that the staff-to-guest ratio is almost one to one. In fact, the service is so outstanding that each time Simon, my personal butler, comes to my room, I spend time trying to think of things to do in order to spare his feelings. The only problem? He’s already taken care of anything I could imagine. So instead, I eat. I eat the canapés he brings each afternoon. I drink from the bottles of wine and champagne he brought when I arrived. Then I get ready for dinner with Adrian. Well, me, Adrian, Endre (the head waiter), and the other eight people at my table.

Tonight at dinner, I started with sautéed forest mushrooms on chive polenta and truffled fontina cheese fondue, followed by something even more complex: citrus-marinated medallions of Scandinavian venison on cream kale with dried fruit and walnut strudel, light game sauce and a poached red pear. I might have gone with the grilled Maine lobster, but it sounded too much like what Simon brought to my room this afternoon. Thankfully there is a gym and a schedule of fitness classes on board. I even get to keep up my Pilates routine. A girl can’t afford to get fat with waiters like these.

“Vill you be at the dinner tomorrow?” asks Adrian.

It pains me to say no, to pass up that moment where he greets me at the door, offers his arm and guides me to my seat, but tomorrow night I’m having dinner at Silk Road, the ship’s Nobu Matsuhisa restaurant. Of course there is also the ubiquitous Italian option – Prego, by Piero Selvaggio, owner of Valentino in Los Angeles and Las Vegas.

Early the next morning at the seafood market in Venice, I see the true gourmets of our ship – Hiroshi Nakaguchi, the Silk Road’s chef; Gunter Lorenz, corporate executive chef; and celebrity guest chef Suzanne Goin of West Hollywood’s Lucques and A.O.C. You may know her as one of Food and Wine magazine’s Best New Chefs, or maybe from TV. She joined the cruise only days after filming an episode of “Top Chef.” The cooks are chatting and browsing the thousands of seafood options on display from skate to swordfish to about a hundred types of still-crawling crabs and shrimp. Tonight, Chef Nakaguchi promises to cook us a special dinner at Silk Road, using what he purchases. He does. In addition to menu items like Nobu’s famous black cod with miso and grilled Wagyu beef, he also serves us octopus so fresh we saw it live this morning. Suzanne Goin and guest wine expert Madeleine de Jean are at my table and talk me into attending their classes tomorrow.

Madeline de Jean, one of the world’s foremost experts on Champagne, hosts a wine and Champagne tasting where she explains why she hates flutes. “The theory that they make the bubbles last longer is nonsense,” she says. “If you’re losing the bubbles, you’re not drinking it fast enough.” I like her style. She introduces us to various wines, rustic and refined, that she picked up when we were in Croatia a few days ago.
She pairs them with fine olive oils she also discovered in the region. Several of them were freshly made by local growers she had visited.

Afterward, I head over in the Stardust Club (you might call this the Serenity’s multipurpose room – although there is a proper nightclub and a theater, the Stardust also offers dancing, shows and presentations). Chef Goin is teaching us how to make boeuf à la niçoise, a braised beef daube with red wine, tomato, olives, and buttered noodles. Although I’m overwhelmed by the 21 ingredients, it’s not as hard to make as I expected. The best thing is that it’s better the next day, so preparing early, sticking it in the fridge and setting it out for 15 minutes before seasoning and serving, is not only convenient, it’s called for. It’s also what allows her to teach this class today and serve the same dish as part of the tasting menu she’ll present at tomorrow’s dining room dinner.

At that dinner, I revel in the Mediterranean prawns with yellow tomato confit that melts in my mouth and the roasted beet salad with chickpeas, Nyons olives and feta cheese. For the main course, I choose her pan-roasted fresh sea bream since I’ve already tasted the bouef and plan to cook it as soon as I get home. The sea bream is served over parsnip purée with Brussels sprouts and balsamic brown butter. Nothing I’ve ever had seems as good as the parsnip purée. I tell her so. She gives me the ridiculously simple recipe – 2/3 parsnips, 1/3 potatoes (it helps the consistency) a little bit of cream and butter. The trick to making it so utterly creamy, she says, is using a food mill.

Before I meet some newly-made friends at the Avenue Saloon, I stop in my room to rest. It’s a balmy evening on the Mediterranean, so I lounge on the balcony and take in the breeze. It’s funny because what I didn’t want from a cruise was 24 hours of food-in-your-face at a Vegas-like buffet, but between the formal dining room, the al fresco cafes and even the in-room appe tizers, the food on the Crystal Serenity is something I look forward to, even though I spend my days eating in Greece and Croatia and Italy and Provence. Between the dining rooms, specialty restaurants, the wine dinners and tastings in the Vintage Room, the food, wine and mixology classes, the Mozart tea in the Palm Court, I’ve decided all-you-can-eat can still be sophisticated. Or that’s what I’ll tell myself because I’m having the time of my life. I’m also considering signing up for one of the personal training packages offered by the onboard fitness instructor. Thankfully, tomorrow’s agenda includes Sorrento and Capri. I think walking up and down stairs and cliffs and hills might be enough.

The morning after Chef Goin’s dinner, I head to the Lido café for breakfast where Adrian carries my tray, then brings me coffee (milk and one sugar) without me ever having to ask. He admits that the wait staff got to eat what was left of Chef Goin’s sea bream and boeuf à la niçoise.

“I have never had the food like this,” he says, full of excitement.

Nor have I.

By Tiffany Hawk

“A blessed home is when you smell food,” says chef Azmin Ghahreman of the popular Sapphire Laguna, as he turns a sizzling pork chop on the backyard grill. The sweet blend of smoke and barbecued meat billows across the lawn. A hint of grilling peaches wafts along after it.

He then asks me if I smell his neighbors’ horses. Like the afternote of a complex wine, there are the horses. This chef is not pretentious.

What this chef is, however, is fanatical about food – growing it, cooking it, serving it, eating it, studying it. He hands me a hot peach fresh from the grill and handpicked from his garden only minutes before. Off comes the meat and fruit, and on go homemade chocolate chip cookies brushed with rosemary.

“A grill is a Ferrari. It’s fast. It’s all about controlling the heat whether you have steak or cookies,” says Ghahreman the consummate griller. Chocolate oozes from the outwardly crispy cookies, which he tops with gelato and places on the table next to the Kurobuta pork marinated in shallots, garlic and olive oil.

Before he brings out the wine, he offers a tip for entertaining outdoors. “Don’t put the wine glasses out too early. They get warm.” He should know. He entertains on this patio as often as three times per week.

His tables, both at home and at his Laguna restaurant Sapphire, are known for having at least 15 different items. Serving his guests small tastes of various flavors, from cheeses to jalapeños to fresh breads, is part of his plan to “feed them smart,” as he says, “so they leave smiling – not yawning from overeating.” You can see this philosophy in Sapphire’s popular lunchbox, a bento box of five surprise menu items. It takes a lot of planning to do things this way. But he loves that. “I love to cook for people,” he says. “When I plan for it, my mind goes crazy getting everything ready – wine, grocery list.”

And the people he loves cooking for the most? His children – five, three and six months. He lives to hear his five-year-old, Liam, say the words no critic ever could: “That’s the best thing I’ve ever had Daddy. Give me again.”

It’s no surprise he and his wife Laura chose this hilltop home in rural San Juan Capistrano because they believed it is a good place to raise kids. That and its country views of rolling hills remind Azmin of his childhood in Iran where his uncle had a farm. It was a hands-on life. “We fed the chickens. We raised them. Then we ate them,” he says. He and the other children earned money by running through the fields, making noise and scaring off birds.

Although the newest generation of Ghahremans don’t raise their own chickens, they do grow almost every type of produce imaginable. The kids are learning to plant and cultivate cucumbers, chilis, watermelons, squash, mushrooms, heirloom tomatoes, lychees, tangerines, cherries, potatoes, turnips, peppers, and lavender. You name it, they grow it. And striving for a reprise of that ultimate compliment, their dad cooks it all up.

Ghahreman devotes his life to feeding his family and his frequent guests, but his at-home experiments often make it into the restaurant, to all of Orange County’s benefit. Sapphire’s popular rocket salad came from a dish he created for a visiting friend when they picked up some arugula, watercress and avocado at the San Clemente farmer’s market. They returned home, and like a sommelier matching flavors, Ghahreman worked out what he could add to “make the flavors explode.” He added some cheese, heirloom tomatoes, sweet onion, and olive oil from his pantry. It worked, and, voilà, Sapphire got its rocket salad, now one of its most popular items. The white peach sangria was also born in the tiled kitchen of the Ghahremans’ San Juan Capistrano home. That home, much like its owner’s food, has a rustic and seemingly spontaneous spirit fused with worldly influences from his former homes and kitchens. A walk around the dining room reveals evidence of every place he’s ever lived: Iran, France, Switzerland, Singapore, Turkey, Malaysia, Australia. Even within the U.S. he’s lived in Texas, Las Vegas, Hawaii, and now California. These days, places he’s inspired by and planning to visit also make the cut. While gearing up for a trip to Mexico to study its cuisine, he collected 30 tequilas, which he currently displays in a Chinese wedding cabinet from his days in Malaysia.

“I’m going to Mexico soon to study everything, all the way from the street food – how they cook it, why they cook it,” says Ghahreman. “As a neighboring country, it’s important to know Mexico’s cuisine, how to work with each ingredient. Everywhere I’ve lived I study the food’s roots and history.”

Perhaps his devotion to a food’s lineage explains the more than 1,200 cookbooks in his living room. Dating from as far back as 1884, the books span the globe and provide a constant inspiration to Ghahreman, who knows each one intimately. He may not use a cookbook for weeks, then suddenly he gets an itch to dig deeper into a cuisine and takes the book to the kitchen – even to the restaurant. The itch to delve further into curry made him bring The Curry Bible to Sapphire. Now they serve a curry of the day. “Who would have thought of banana curry? We can’t keep enough of it,” he says. “Everywhere I travel I come back with books. I go to a good bookstore and don’t move all day.”

“Cookbooks?” I ask.

“Oh yes. I have no patience for reading anything else,” he says and starts browsing his own collection with growing enthusiasm.

That same food-obsessed enthusiasm won’t let him sit still for this article’s photo. The cookbook in his lap is too interesting. He laughs at a picture. Points out a recipe. When his likeness is finally captured, he goes back to the bookshelf and pulls out a book on Greek cooking. “Look at the cheeses, this sausage, these people’s smiling faces,” he says. “Don’t you want to go to Greece right now?” Only moments later, he’s talking up France and pointing out recipes by Marc Veyrat.

“This was one of the best meals of my life,” Ghahreman says of the chef who has two restaurants, each with three Michelin stars. Most of all, he admires his heart. “Veyrat is the son of a shepherd,” he says. “And he gets up every day to go into the country to collect herbs and plants for his cooking.”

Sounds like someone else I know.

As if sensing my thought, he jumps up and leads me to the garden.

“Oh, the quince tree,” he says, pointing to its heavily burdened branches. Last year it didn’t produce, but this year it has gone crazy. “I can’t wait,” he continues. “My mom is coming to visit in November when the tree is ready. She’ll make them into jam.”

He pulls a blackberry from a tree and hands it to me. Then a plum. A peach. We eat the fruit straight from the trees.

“This plum is screaming ‘make me into a chutney,’” he says. I feel like a cartoon character being dragged along by the nose on an aromatic trail as we wander through the barrels of parsley, the rosemary, the tangerines, and various berries.

I remember that a blessed home smells like food and realize how blessed this family is.

Then Ghahreman lets me in on a secret. It’s not just food. “A blessed home is really when the lights are on for you when you return.”

By TIFFANY HAWK

When Matt Ouimet, who was living in Florida at the time, was asked to move to Orange County to take over as president of Disneyland, he had to face his wife – who was supportive – and his kids who were devastated. “What about our friends?” the son cried. “How could you do this to us?” the daughter echoed. Then a smile crept onto the suspicious son’s face. “Wait a minute. Is that the OC?” Suddenly thrilled, the kids started packing.

Since the debut of the wildly popular Fox drama in 2003, we have found ourselves in a glamorously re-branded land called the OC. And now, we can’t even turn on the telly without seeing ourselves somewhere. We’ve got “Arrested Development” and “Laguna Beach, The Real Orange County,” and if you believe the rumors, the mythical Wisteria Lane of “Desperate Housewives” is even inspired by our county. On March 21, a new reality show set in Coto de Caza called “The Real Housewives of Orange County” premiered on Bravo; a VH1 show starring local caterer and Coast columnist Brian Dobbin is scheduled to premiere later his year; and MTV has confirmed they are currently shooting two more shows in Orange County: one modeled after “Laguna Beach” that’s set in Mission Viejo, and another that focuses on breaking world records, which is set at the former Marine Corps Air Station at El Toro. And that’s not all. Janice Arrington, the Orange County film commissioner, says between television and the silver screen, we have something filming in the county every day.

Cash Cachet
Why should we care? The payoff to our county is lucrative. According to Ken Anderson, president of the Media Alliance of Orange County, a local association of film and television professionals, “there is more production here than ever, and much of the economic benefit goes to the tourism sector with hotel rooms and meals for the crew.” “Laguna Beach,” for example, books 25 to 35 hotel rooms in Laguna each night during filming. And all of those people need to eat and shop. In fact, the Motion Picture Association, which tracks spending in cities throughout the state, says that the latest statistics reveal that in 2003, film crews spent $500 million in payroll and vendor dollars – considering “The OC” didn’t debut until the summer of that year, imagine how much they spent here in 2005.

To attract film and television productions, we have Janice Arrington. A member of the Director’s Guild of America, Arrington uses her Hollywood and local connections to make filming in the OC easier. If a studio wants to blow up cars and crash helicopters into buildings, they could just approach the city with their plan, but chances are, the city would laugh them out of town. So they work with Arrington to find a place, a time and a plan that city officials will be comfortable with and will create the least amount of hassle.

Unfortunately, Arrington can’t cut through all of the red tape. Because of a 30-mile artificial perimeter around Hollywood known as the “studio zone,” many shows – even those that are set in Orange County – aren’t filmed here. Josh Schwartz, for example, “The OC”’s creator, says he would love to film in Orange County, but it’s prohibitively expensive. If a show films outside of the zone, it is considered a distant location, and the actors and crew must be put up in hotel rooms and provided with meals and transportation, just as if they were filming in Prague. To save money, studios stay closer to home.

That doesn’t mean they aren’t still helping to fill our hotels, restaurants and shops. Probably more valuable than the cash spent by visiting crews is the cachet they give us by publicizing our county to travelers all over the world willing to pay big bucks to see where Ryan kissed Marissa or where Jason cheated on Lauren. This summer, so many families with teens stopped by Laguna’s visitor center to ask about hot spots from the MTV show that the center created a guide to places where the show’s stars have been filmed eating lunch (Gina’s Pizza) and getting groomed (Beautiful Nails). “While we can’t measure how many more tourists we actually get, our website went from 600,000 visits per year in 2004 to more than 1.5 million in ’05,” says Judy Bijlani, executive director of the Laguna Beach Visitors and Conference Bureau. Newport Beach has also seen an increase in tourism and has created a movie map to direct visitors to their favorite “OC” spots.

Flash in the Pan or Staying Power
While the future remains to be seen, Hollywood insiders agree that with looks and congeniality, Orange County has the “it” factor. Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, Bel Air – we’ve seen them to death. According the Scott Dunlop, writer and producer of “The Real Housewives of Orange County,” this has created the perfect opportunity to introduce the world to L.A.’s neighbor to the south. “We’re becoming discovered, because we still offer a fresh version of California life – there is still plenty to mine,” he says. And Kathryn Takis, co-executive producer of MTV’s “Laguna Beach” agrees. “Laguna is beautiful and untapped. It’s so hard to find a place to shoot in L.A. that hasn’t been shot out or that doesn’t charge $10,000 location fees.”

Filmmakers and television producers may cite our geographical variety and unobstructed ocean views as the area’s primary draws, but we’re not just getting by on our looks. Brian Dobbin says our popularity also comes from our personality. “Our area is growing and people are very proud. They’re open and willing to have a party and show off for TV. So many of the people having parties in L.A. are already in the industry and don’t want the exposure.” He also says it’s just plain easier to film down here, and the producers of “Laguna Beach” think he’s right. In fact, they feel that the phenomenal success of the show is due largely to how easy it has been to work in Laguna. “Although there are some people who would prefer we weren’t there, for the most part people have been beyond friendly and have been opening their doors and shops to us.” Because that openness has attracted viewers from around the world, they feel a huge responsibility to make filming as painless as possible for the community. To remain non-invasive, the show uses minimal lights and doesn’t shut down roads. They have even made rules that prohibit smoking and using profanity on set and require crew to dress in business attire. “We want to show the community the same respect they’ve shown us,” says Takis.

Film crews have been as pleased with their on-location work as these television series have. According to Paul Brinkman, the location manager for The Death and Life of Bobby Z, a film starring Paul Walker and Laurence Fishburne, the area is exceptionally easy to work in. The movie, scheduled for release later this year, was filmed this winter in Laguna Beach, Dana Point and San Clemente. “Filming here has been so great. It’s been such a positive experience. People have been so cooperative, and the Laguna cops and fire department bent over backward for us.” And Brinkman has a reason to be happy about the success of the location: He’s lived in Laguna for 12 years and generally makes the trek to Hollywood. For nine years, he commuted up to work on the television show “JAG.”

Many locals hope the county’s higher profile, along with the work of Arrington and the media alliance, will help us capitalize on our few minutes of fame by bringing work to the large number of industry professionals living within our borders and money to our cities and businesses. “There are so many talented people who live down here and commute to Hollywood for work every day,” says Helene Fabian, owner of Irvine Studios, a production and media center that offers sound stages and editing bays as well as editing and producing services. “As part of the alliance, we band together to attract more business within the county and keep people from being forced to go out of town for work.” Although, according to alliance president Ken Anderson, the local film industry hasn’t seen a huge upturn in work yet, its credibility and profile have been elevated with the success of so many well-regarded television shows.

Other locals like Scott Dunlop are also eager to fight for our piece of the pie. “I want to show things from an Orange County perspective using an Orange County production team. We’re always in the shadow of Los Angeles, but we have great talented people here. My vision if we’re successful with this, is to take the writers and performers and other talent in Orange County and fuse them with the economic power of the area and create a platform for the industry here.” Like so many other local Hollywood insiders, when he moved to Orange County in the ’90s, it meant a commute to L.A. Now, he’s happy to be working close to home and establishing a local industry worth envying. “Some people in Los Angeles are looking to Canada as an easier place to work, but Orange County has been overlooked in the past. We’re virginal territory. We can help the industry stay in California.” He wants to generate more work within the county and attract more L.A. productions to the area. “Orange County is ground zero for cultural trends, fashion, music, literature. We need to spur people here to control our destiny. Let’s start an ownership model. Let’s get it going. You know what I’m saying.” Whether we like it or not, it looks like Hollywood is listening.

As one of the country’s top aerobatics competitors and lead aerobatics instructor for Sunrise Aviation at John Wayne Airport – without a doubt the country’s top aerobatics school – Frisbee doesn’t have time to putter around up there in a straight line. Instead, he flies four times a day, taking on as many as 10Gs as he barrels straight up into the sky, and then perfects his loops, rolls and spins.

His daredevil, adrenaline-addicted, air-obsessed side was always there. Before he could fly a plane, his epic bicycle and motorcycle jumps made him an emergency room regular, and his extra-curricular activities included the high jump, the long jump and slam dunks for the basketball team – even though he’s only 5’9.” “From the moment you leave the earth till you land, that weightlessness, it’s euphoric – that’s what it’s all about,” he says.

And the airplanes? His lifetime commitment since the fifth grade. “My two best friends and I made a pact that we would all go to Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University to study aerospace engineering then get Ph.Ds at MIT.” Then, they promised, they’d all move back to Alaska to start a company designing bush planes. One of them did it. Frisbee, however, got sidetracked. While at Embry-Riddle finishing his engineering degree, he heard about an aerobatics club and immediately signed on. “This thing I was always interested in and saw on TV and movies was suddenly available to me. It changed my life completely,” he says. As a self-proclaimed “big-time nerd” who spent every waking moment memorizing airplane specs, he attended his first airshow with the club and within seconds, he was hooked. “I got out of the car, looked up and saw this airplane flying straight up, doing way beyond what I ever thought was possible, and in an instant, I let go of all the bush plane plans,” he says. Four months later, with 5.4 hours of aerobatic training, Frisbee entered his first competition. It was the definitive rush. “When I say I was hooked, I was hooked. It’s a drug,” he says. He’s been chasing that feeling ever since.

Fortunately for his students – and passengers – safety is the one thing he’s more obsessed with than adrenaline. His own instructor, a true Alaskan bush pilot, spent most of his time simulating emergencies and treacherous landing conditions. “It worked. One day, he lost his propeller, had a windshield covered in oil and lived to tell about it,” says Frisbee. Even if they hate him for it, Frisbee will make sure his students can do the same.

To become one of them, call Sunrise Aviation at (949) 852–8850 or visit www.sunriseaviation.com. –Tiffany Hawk

His slogan – “No boxes. No bunnies. No birds. This is Stand-Up Comedy Magic; just outside the law” – lets you know he isn’t your grandmother’s magician. He doesn’t perform for children, and he doesn’t make apologies, but if you’re lucky, he’ll give you back what he pickpockets. Although he performs all over the world, Wilson brags most about his local success: He once filched a watch from the wrist of Irvine’s Chief of Police in front of 300 of his fellow officers. What else can he do? Transform a one-dollar bill into a hundred-dollar bill. Float almost one foot off the ground. Make you laugh so hard milk comes out your nose – even if you’re drinking beer.

Based on the latest magic world championships, Wilson is the number two trickster in the world, but he says that makes the rest of us lucky. “If I were first place, you couldn’t afford me.” Those of us who want to perform a little magic ourselves are also fortunate. Unlike your average illusionist, he doesn’t keep his work a secret. In fact, he teaches his inventions in-person and with 10 instructional videos. But at a rate of five to 10 new tricks a month, he constantly outwits the competition even as he trains them.

“My primary motive is to move people. Like a good movie, my job is to help people temporarily escape reality. I lie, cheat and steal, and people love every minute of it,” says Wilson.

–Tiffany Hawk

To book Gregory for a show or seminar, call (949) 650-1116 or email getgreg@pac bell.net.

Always an envelope-pusher, Cowden wouldn’t be satisfied with flying as a mere hobby, and soon the dreams began. Her first: to get out of the airplane. “I wanted to jump, to just get out of the plane and be one with the air,” she says. “But people didn’t do that recreationally back then – the chutes were only for emergencies and weren’t sophisticated,” so that dream would have to wait. This time, raising the stakes would mean going pro.

On December 8, 1941, the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the U.S. declared war on Japan. On December 9, Cowden volunteered her services. “Everyone wanted to do something, and helping my country win the war by doing what I loved would be a once in a lifetime experience,” she says. Finally in 1943, the country was ready for female pilots, and Cowden got her orders to pack up for Sweetwater, Texas, where she would train – with the exact same training as the men – as part of the WASP (Women Airforce Service Pilots). With male pilots shipping off to war, the military was short on qualified fliers and hired 1,074 women to fly 19 types of aircraft, from bombers to fighters, delivering them to bases and debarkation points throughout the country. “For the one-seater pursuit planes like the P-51, we didn’t even get training – we just read the manual,” she says. “All you really needed to know was the RPM setting for landing. Anyone can take off.”

For two years, Cowden lived her dream while helping create opportunities for future generations of women. In fact, when she served as citizen grand marshal of the Huntington Beach Fourth of July parade last month, she was approached by the military grand marshal, Brigadier General Ellen M. Pawlikowski. “She said ‘if it hadn’t been for the WASP, I wouldn’t be where I am today.’ I’m so proud to have helped her. It felt really good, like I hatched her,” says Cowden, who reluctantly ended her own service in 1944 when the WASP were disbanded.

She moved to Southern California, first South Gate then Huntington Beach, where she married Scott Cowden, her husband of 50 years, and helped him run a ceramics business. Over the years, she has raised a family, flown airplanes and dedicated herself to community service. Today, she volunteers as a docent for the Bolsa Chica Ecological Reserve, leading tours of the wetlands and its World War II bunkers; picks up trash on the beach every week; sits on the board of the Yanks Air Museum in Chino; belongs to Silver Wings, a WASP organization of which she was once in charge of reunions; and remains active in local politics. Yet she still finds time to square dance, and more importantly, accomplish longtime dreams. “At 76, I realized I had always wanted to jump out of a plane and that I still hadn’t done it,” she says. So she did. And then, just this year, she did it again – this time as the oldest person to skydive with the U.S. Army’s Golden Knights parachute team.

“Next time I jump,” says Cowden, “I want to have smoke coming out of my shoes.” –Tiffany Hawk

From the window displays that lure you in, to the gift gallery table settings and the all-out fashion events, Rowland painstakingly perfects every detail you see. And it takes much more than a few dolls to pull together a 160,000-square-foot luxury department store. He works 10 to 12 hours every day to create the perfect floral arrangements, set up the most spectacular lighting, and bring in the most exquisite furniture to show off the store’s inventory. “I get to go out shopping for furniture and accessories. I could buy anything from hundreds of shoe boxes to wooden pallets and plumbing pipes to Eames chairs. And those would be genuine Eames chairs because it’s Neiman Marcus and we wouldn’t display anything but the real thing.”

With windows and in-store displays that change at least once a week, floral arrangements that are refreshed daily and lighting that must be repositioned every time something moves, Rowland has his work cut out for him. When the store hosts an event, fashion show or trend presentation, he clears out a large space, makes it beautiful, comfortable, or even whimsical. Then he has to redistribute the goods from that department throughout the store, keeping the whole thing as attractive as ever.

“The hardest thing is that so many things at Neiman Marcus are one of a kind. That means I could spend hours on a display – coordinating the shoes, the jewelry, the hair, etc. – and I could be just about finished and a customer will walk up and say I want that, and point to something the mannequin is wearing. So we pull it off and sell it, and we don’t have a replacement, so I start over from scratch.”

Creating the visual image for Neiman Marcus means following trends as well as setting them. To stay in line with the style of the moment, windows and departments reflect a light, white, Zen feeling. “It’s all about white. Every woman needs something white right now,” says Rowland.

But shoppers also look to him to find out what’s hot. Last fall, he dressed his mannequins in nylons that he had cut off at the ankle for a modern, trendy look. Dozens of shoppers came in demanding to buy ankle-length hose, but the store didn’t carry them. The shoppers were furious until Rowland informed them they could simply buy full-length panty hose and cut them just as he did.

Rowland aspires to someday reach the level of skill of the window team at Bergdorf Goodman. But for now, he’s happy if he can create one of the most appealing Neiman Marcus stores in the country. “Whether it’s a shopper or a designer who’s here for a personal appearance, I want them to go away with a memorable experience of our store.”–Tiffany Hawk

“A costume collector I knew asked me to do a souvenir Christian Dior paper doll for a paper doll convention. I had never heard of this. I didn’t know it existed, but I drew the doll, and it was a hit,” says Hendricks. Collectors from all over the U.S. and Europe were thrilled to see a newcomer in their beloved little world, a close-knit industry that rarely attracts new designers. But he had more than fresh blood to offer. As an outsider, he wasn’t constrained by tradition or habit and was able to expand a medium saturated with old movie stars, adding elegantly detailed tributes to literary figures like Emily Dickenson and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and characters like the heroines of Shakespeare and Jane Austen and Louisa May Alcott. “Most paper dolls are based on the movies, but I like books. If I wasn’t an artist, I would have loved to be a writer. Unfortunately that wasn’t my gift.” To add to his unique spin on things, he created whimsical animal spin offs from his favorite literature with dolls named Jane Hare, Madame Beavery and Charles Doggins.

Some may poo-poo the dolls as quirky, but they’re gaining respect in the most illustrious of places. The Tony Award-winning Williamstown Theatre Festival (whose stages have been graced by actors like Paul Newman, Gwyneth Paltrow, Christopher Reeve, and Sigourney Weaver) commissioned a Hendricks original for their fundraiser gala, a tribute to Blythe Danner; the Gilardi Museum in Italy asked him to design a life-size paper doll for their tribute to Giorgio Armani; and London’s renowned Tate Modern commissioned a Frida Kahlo doll for their gift shop.

“I constantly get letters from 12-year-old girls wanting me to do rock stars like Britney Spears, but I don’t dare for fear of a lawsuit.” He does, however, love working with living people and has created paper dolls for designers James Galanos and Gustave Tassell, dancer Patrick Corbin, celebrity photographer Stathis Orphanos, along with authors Jo Manning (My Lady Scandalous) and John Rechy (City of Night). “Working with the living is so fun. I did a 20-page folio for James Galanos, and when I met him he pulled out racks of his gowns from the past 35 years. I got to just go in there and play. I feel so lucky to make a living out of just having fun.” For more information, visit www.paperdolls. com. –Tiffany Hawk

Most people think Matt Moneymaker, the head of the San Juan Capistrano based Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization, is insane. Some people would even call him a fraud, but a growing number of scientists think he’s on to something.

“People have trouble accepting Bigfoot’s existence until they really look into it. Their perception is that we know all about Earth, and the idea of anything unknown isn’t typical,” says Moneymaker who admits he wasn’t always a believer. “I got interested in Bigfoot the way most sane people do, by watching documentaries. Then in the mid-80s, by chance I stumbled across some witnesses. I went up to the mountains in Ventura count and found tracks. It was a breathtaking experience.”

By the early 1990s, when the Internet was still primarily used by academics, he and other professional and amateur Bigfoot trackers began communicating and posting their accounts. “But when the Internet got more popular, the weirdos started coming out,” he says. So he created BFRO as a private site, where serious researchers could post their stockpiled evidence and encourage more witnesses to come forward. But more publicity has made finding credible witnesses even more time consuming. “Saying you’ve seen this is so outlandish. Authentic witnesses know it sounds crazy, so you have to drag it out of them. Most of the reports we receive are bogus, but maybe up to half provide good information.”

Once a credible account is logged and verified, the group’s specialists, from lab scientists to biomechanics experts, scour the area of the sighting and collect hair samples, track casts and scats which are then tested at universities throughout the country. In many cases, expeditions are formed where volunteers interview witnesses, study the topography around the sighting, then spread out to look and listen for the Sasquatch. Volunteers provoke the creatures with pheromones, wood knocks, and highly amplified recordings of screams. “We try to get video footage, to study them without hurting them. To prove they exist without killing them.” Most of the time, they have to settle for audio recordings. “They make a low moaning howl that is very distinct from other animals,” says Moneymaker. “We send the recordings to bioacoustics experts whose analysis usually comes back classified as primate, unknown.” Some of the recordings can be heard on the website.

According to Moneymaker, biologists find new species of primates every few months in remote regions of South America and Africa. “They’re usually tiny monkeys, but a few months ago they found an entirely new species of three-foot tall monkeys. Apes are found far less often, but there’s no reason this Squatch species couldn’t exist.” In the last few years, his organization has convinced the world’s top primatologists to take an objective look at the evidence, and gradually, they are coming around. Dr. Jane Goodall, famous for her work with chimpanzees, is now a believer and a campaigner for Bigfoot research. “Another famous primate scientist was a skeptic ‘till we laid the evidence out and he came to Jesus,” says Moneymaker. “The whole goal of the organization is to make the subject discussable among scientists.”

Ten years after its launch, BFRO has more than 12,000 reports, a large number of which are viewable by the public, and volunteers are lining up to aid in the search. With the help of an experimental weather-proof, infra-red, motion-detecting camcorder, designed by Moneymaker and unveiled in August, these volunteers are confident they’ll soon solve the mystery. “We’re testing it in the field, and when we perfect it, we’ll make the instructions for building and using the camcorder available to the public on our website,” says Moneymaker.

Ric Herjtberg, a dedicated BFRO member from Seattle joins expeditions as often as he can. “We spend the weekend out in the wilderness. The scripts of every one of these trips would make a great reality show. I can’t imagine anything so wrapped up in the sociology of popular culture, so central to anthropology and biology or so terrifying yet religious,” he says. Whether they’re journalists, laboratory analysts, hunters, or lawyers, members offer their time and their expertise hoping to prove once and for all that, whether he’s a friend or foe, Bigfoot is alive and in our backyard. According to Moneymaker, they can’t help it. “Once you hear them and find their tracks, it becomes your mission in life to see one.”

When asked if he’s seen one, Moneymaker said “Oh yeah, of course I have.”

For more information, visit www.bfro.net.

–Tiffany Hawk

“You can leave your umbrella at the door,” says the hostess as she sashays toward the table I have reserved, no doubt expecting me to follow. I hesitate. “Can I really leave the umbrella unattended?” This is San Francisco, the city I left after three car break-ins in one year. No, not just San Francisco – this is the Mission District, and gentrifying or not, it’s one of a few spots where the desperate will smash windshields hoping for spare change.
As the area’s first neighborhood, the Mission has lived through several incarnations. Well before the gold rush put the Bay Area on the map, padres trekked up from Mexico converting locals on their way and, with their help, built Mission Dolores, the oldest building in the city. Over the years, it has been home to various waves of working-class immigrants and – in addition to being the sunniest part of town – the Mission has been best known for its rough appearance, greasy spoons and the colorful murals that have been springing up since the 1920s. Today, new works explore the neighborhood’s changing image.
My friend Brent recently bought a multi-million dollar loft around the corner in this once seedy, now hip and hyped ‘hood. Nevermind the guy peeing in between newspaper dispensers or his colleague sleeping on the steps next door. “You’ll need reservations, honey,” Brent told me when I suggested lunch at Luna Park, a popular café that was once home to a butcher shop. Reservations? In the Mission?
Yup. And apparently, it’s so gentrified that patrons feel safe leaving their umbrellas unattended on what could be the rainiest day on record. I look at the umbrella stand, then at my table across the room. I decide to take a chance. I had, after all, passed at least a dozen more chichi bars and restaurants on the way from the train. In between the taquerias and pupuserias, the check cashing stores and the Laundromats, there are enough incredible eateries to make Valencia Street vie for the title of stomach of the city. They’ve got Osha Thai, a sleek Asian bistro with creative twists on traditional favorites; Dosa, a South Indian restaurant with urban style; Ramblas a trendy tapas and cocktail bar; and at least a dozen more of-the-moment establishments like Herb for organic, Radio Habana Social Club for Cuban, and Laszlo or Hush Hush for Sex-and-the-City cocktails and DJ beats. Coffee lovers can choose between the flower-powered Javalencia, a confirmed hipster hangout, or their posh roasting rival Ritual where lounge music and a gallery for emerging artists emphasize the slick but worldly ambience.
Back at Luna Park, I try the monte cristo sandwich with a walnut salad and a side of fresh fruit. Thankfully, it’s an overflowing pile of bananas, pears, grapes, and apples – not just melon filler. The restaurant serves what it calls “California comfort food” with items like oven baked macaroni and cheese, breaded pork cutlet and oven roasted seabass. But it is equally known for its creative cocktails, especially the volcanic scorpion bowl for two – a “mysterious blend of fruit juices and exotic liquors.”
Even without the exotic spirits, I am intoxicated by the neighborhood’s eclectic appeal and eagerly depart for the whimsical 826 Valencia, a nearby writing center/pirate store owned by famed Gen-X author Dave Eggers, proving the Mission offers as much substance as it does style. A short stroll will reveal everything from independent bookstores to modernist furniture stores to holistic apothecaries. The Marsh Theater – “a breeding ground for new performance” – presents workshops and experimental shows while the adjacent Mock café hosts budding stand-up comics. Around the block, the Foreign Cinema projects foreign films onto the walls of its restaurant courtyard. Next door, backpackers set up camp at the upscale Elements hostel, a building that is also home to Medjool, a fashionable Mediterranean restaurant; its rooftop patio is one of the best places to chill outdoors when the weather is nice (i.e. not today).
After a lovely lunch at Luna Park, I near the door, and the torrential downpour on the other side of it, and face the inevitable – naturally, my umbrella is gone.

Movin’ on Up
From downtown Atlanta and London’s South Bank to almost all of Hong Kong’s Central island, formerly decaying hoods all over the world are transforming. Here are a few of our area’s most notable up-and-comers.

Hollywood
Hollywood may be cleaner and more corporate, but it’s also more alive than ever. Its metamorphosis began with added Metro stops and the construction of Hollywood and Highland, a retail mega-complex, and has continued with the renovation of the El Capitan, Egyptian and Pantages theaters. The dining and nightlife scenes were already ramping up with hotspots like the Ivy and the Standard, but the historic Roosevelt Hotel, recently transformed by club promoter Amanda Sheer Demme, is what’s really bringing in the cool kids.

San Diego’s East Village
This former no man’s land of windowless warehouses and discount parking lots is turning around thanks to Petco Park and the Kimpton’s Hotel Solamar. A few restaurants, hotels and design stores have already opened around the neighborhood’s perimeter, but sometime soon, the scaffolding will come down and this will be the place to explore in San Diego.

Downtown Tucson
Although developers have been hoping to lure locals and visitors to its practically abandoned city center for more than a decade, it looks like with hundreds of millions of dollars in private and public investment the Rio Nuevo redevelopment project will finally do just that. Even the naysayers of lofty rival Phoenix are willing to admit Tucson may be on the rise.

By Tiffany Hawk

The post-wedding bliss may be a phase, or it may last forever, but one thing is for certain, it is the perfect time to nurture your love whether it’s star-crossed, whirlwind, shotgun or true. We’ve chosen a few of the best places to take your post-nuptial trip no matter what your personalities.

The Adventurers
Ulusaba Private Game Reserve
Kruger National Park, South Africa

Lions and tigers and leopards, hippos, elephants and more — South Africa’s Kruger National Park is home to some of the world’s most diverse wildlife (including more than 8,000 elephants) and landscapes as well as a handful of sinfully posh accommodations. For the ultimate blend of adventure and decadence, stay at Ulusaba, Sir Richard Branson’s luxurious Private Game Reserve. Its two tree-house style properties, the Safari Lodge and the Rock Lodge, offer stylish, air-conditioned rooms with high ceilings, thatched roofs, some with indoor and outdoor showers and private infinity plunge pools overlooking the Savannah. The Rock Lodge, built high-atop a kopje, or rock formation, offers stunning views to the Drakensberg Mountains. The area below is swarming with wildlife, and guests who don’t wish to leave the resort for a game drive, can relax on the deck with binoculars and see almost every exotic big game animal around. www.ulusaba.com

Singita Lebombo Lodge
Kruger National Park, South Africa
On the border of Mozambique, but still within Kruger National Park, is the Lebombo Concession, a remote and barely touched area known for having one of the highest densities of game in Africa from giraffe to rhinos to zebras, elephants and cheetahs. Although it’s packed with more than 200,000 impala, the region is known for its throngs of big cats. It’s also home to Singita’s Lebombo Lodge, a luxury hotel with private cottages, a spa, library and outdoor dining on a romantic deck overlooking the N’Wanetsi and Sweni rivers. Sparse contemporary design offers a loft experience where guests can interact with wildlife from the comfort of a glass-encased suite and private deck. Nearby, Singita has two additional lodges, the Ebony and the Boulders all offer private guided game drives, the finest accommodations, gourmet dining and together present a collection of more than 35,000 bottles of South African wine.

Ngorongoro Crater lodge
Tanzania
For a truly exotic experience, stay at the Ngorongoro Crater Lodge, a romantic collection of suites that reside inside a crater on the eastern edge of the Serengeti amongst small villages where more than 40,000 Masai herd their livestock. The enormous plain sits atop a volcano and is home to zebras, wildebeest, lions, hippos, and a world-famous collection of flamingos. Guests can enjoy the wilderness from the privacy of their own veranda then retreat inside their masai-inspired wattle and daub hut with stylish decor that includes woven banana leaf ceilings, beaded chandeliers, fireplaces, and access to their own personal butler.

Lake Manyara Tree Lodge
Tanzania
Perched in the boughs of Mahogany trees, ten tree-house cottages with private balconies, and floor to ceiling windows offer incredible views of the Great Rift Valley. From the comfort of your room, or while enjoying a picnic on the banks of the Soda River, just sit back and watch the pelicans, flamingos, buffalo and hippos take dips in the river; but keep your eye out for the local specialty – tree climbing lions. www.ccafrica.com.

The Romantics
Villa San Michele
Florence, Italy
On a wooded hilltop overlooking Florence, this 15th century monastery turned luxury hotel, whose façade was designed by Michelangelo, offers dramatic views of the countryside, the city and Brunelleschi’s iconic Duomo. For total solitude, reserve the old chapel, a charming room with a private terrace away from the main. If you prefer opulence, stay in the Michelangelo suite, an enormous room that stretches the entire length of the villa. Its previous incarnations included a longtime role as the monastery library and a stint as Napoleon Bonaparte’s Florentine headquarters. www.villasanmichele.com

Chateau Eza and Chateau de la Chevre d’Or
Eze, France
The medieval village of Eze sits perched high atop cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean. Its romantic cobbled streets are too narrow for cars but are home to two Europe’s of the most romantic inns. At Chateau Eza, a 17th century stone chateaux, 10 rooms provide luxury and sanctuary – the best of which, La Suite du Chateau, offers sweeping views of the Riviera from its three rooms, outdoor Jacuzzi and private terrace. Nearby, the Chateau de la Chevre d’Or’s 32 rooms, most with views, cluster around a mansion house whose one Michelin star restaurant presents spectacular sea views from Monte Carlo to St. Tropez. www.
chateaueza.com; www.chevredor.com.

The Grove
Hertfordshire, England
For the best of London chic and English country, spend some time at The Grove. Only 40 minutes from London, the property is a elegant blend of contemporary cool and historic romance. English gardens with roses, lavender and honey suckle are dotted with modern sculptures by Neil Wilkin and Nathalie Decoster. The 18th century mansion house, formerly home to the Earl’s of Clarendon, feels aristocratic yet urban, and its rooms (which come in classic, contemporary or decadent design) provide nostalgic views of the rolling hedgerow divided countryside. If you’re there for romance, go with decadent and make the most of Victorian exoticism with a four-poster bed topped with black ostrich feathers. www.thegrove.co.uk.

The Seclusion Seekers
Turtle Island
Fiji
Whether you and your closest friends rent the entire island – a popular option for destination weddings – or you and your honey rent just one bungalow, you will love the romance of this remote private island in the South Pacific. Fourteen tropical two-room cottages, or bures (pronounced boo-ray), have hand-woven thatched roofs that create 21-foot vaulted ceilings. The spacious suites come with private verandas with queen-sized day beds for lounging, and the Grand Bures have Jacuzzis and outdoor showers. Couples can spend their days horseback riding, snorkeling, windsurfing or lounging in a hammock. www.turtlefiji.com

North Island
Seychelles
This private island resort is one of the most solitary spots in the already secluded Seychelles, a cluster of more than 100 tropical islands off the east coast of Africa. Restored to health and recreated as a conservation project, the island is a sanctuary for rehabilitating the region’s native flora and fauna. It is also home to one of the tropic’s most exclusive luxury lodges. Each of 11 thatched roof cottages offer more than 2,500 square feet of refuge with two bedrooms, a kitchen and a private plunge pool. If the solitude somehow becomes too much to bear (though it’s your honeymoon, it shouldn’t), Internet access, satellite TV and DVD players can provide entertainment and access to the outside world. www.north-island.com

Cap Juluca
Anguilla
Sexy, remote, exotic and not too far from home, Cap Juluca on the small Caribbean island of Anguilla, is one of the hottest honeymoon spots in the region. Unlike its tropical neighbors, this island in British West India has no large-scale resorts, only discreet small hotels offering luxury and privacy. Whitewashed Moorish domes house 18 villas with private terraces that overlook clear Caribbean seas where guests can snorkel, kayak or sail before heading back in to indulge in gourmet cuisine. At George’s, chef George Reid whips up amazing dishes from sea scallop and mushroom brochette to grilled Anguillan crayfish. Don’t miss his amazing cheeses; he herds 80 of his own goats to create the stuff. www.capjuluca.com

Tuamotu Atolls
Tahiti, French Polynesia
In an archipelago of 78 coral atolls north east of Tahiti, four of Tuamotu’s secluded islets are open to visitors and provide one of the most remote getaways in the world. The Manihi Pearl Beach resort offers romantic beachside and overwater bungalows and an on-site dive center for more active guests. Serious divers should book a stay at Kia Ora Sauvage, a tiny motu, or islet, across the lagoon. It has only five bungalows but is located next to Tiputa Pass, a world-renowned dive site with turtles, manta rays, dolphins, tuna and more sinister sea life like sharks and barracuda. www.tahiti-tourisme.com.

TEFAF, Holland’s famous art and antique fair, offers a chance to fantasize about spies, shaken martinis, and having the means to buy some of the most prestigious art on the planet.

By Tiffany Hawk

FADE IN:
EXT: SCHIPHOL AIRPORT, AMSTERDAM – WINTER
The 747 door cracks open, letting out the stale air and pent-up frustration of 300 people just released from 11 hours of aluminum confinement. Through the glass-enclosed jet bridge, we see the quietly falling snow of a storm that will soon wreak havoc on the Netherlands. It’s freezing. The roads are treacherous. God knows how long we might be snowed in, but anyone who is anyone in the art world is here.

By the time I reach the parking lot, the snow is really coming down. I pull my coat around me and wrap my scarf around my nose, hoping the heat from my breath will warm up the crocheted fabric and, in turn, my body.

I find my driver, who’s holding a sign with my name, and crawl into the warm sedan. Just minutes later, my mouth hangs open as I finally fall asleep. I’ve been up all night going over the plan, studying up on what I’m about to see so I can move among these people like a native, not a spy. I’ve rehearsed a few lines in French, German and Dutch, and I’ve quizzed myself on the artists, historic periods, and aesthetic movements I’ll be expected to know. We bypass Amsterdam, where the canals are surely starting to freeze in what’s already being called the worst storm in decades. I would have liked to stop in the city to visit the Rijksmuseum, to see its vast collection of old masters paintings celebrating the Dutch Golden Age, or the Van Gogh Museum where more than 700 of his works are housed, from his early days of realist peasant scenes to his signature brightly colored post-impressionist swirls. But while Amsterdam is known as an art town, I’m headed south to the art Mecca – Maastricht.

“ Have you ever been before?” asks the driver.

“ No. I’ve only heard about it.”

“ It’s brilliant. Nothing like it really,” says another passenger, a reporter for The Times of London who covers the art beat. He looks and sounds like Michael Caine, which is jarring since I feel like I’m in a James Bond film – the quiet snowfall and whistling wind foreshadowing the intrigue I’ll find at the glamorous party I’m about to attend. Soon, I imagine, I’ll be mingling with the rich and famous, doing the tango, drinking martinis and snapping incriminating photos with my seemingly innocuous ball point pen. Though I suppose these days it would be easier to use my cell phone.

EXT. MAASTRICHT – TWO HOURS LATER
Maastricht is a small town in southern Holland, tucked between Germany and Belgium, and only a couple of miles from each. It’s the oldest city in the Netherlands – the Romans came 50 years before Christ. Now it’s where the Dutch come for vacation, enjoying the rolling hills and series of town squares where, when it’s warmer, visitors sit in Parisian-style rattan chairs and eat, drink and relax on every corner.

Although Maastricht is a holiday destination in summer, March is when the town really heats up. Each year, The European Fine Art Foundation (TEFAF) holds its fine art and antique fair here. Museum curators and private collectors from around the world come to buy from more than 200 of the world’s top art galleries and antiquities dealers. Imagine the Louvre, the Prado, the Met, only everything is for sale. The “antiques” – many predate Christ. The art – ancient, Medieval, Renaissance, Impressionist, Pop, including names like Rembrandt, Ver Meer, Rubens, Picasso, Matisse, Mondrian, Warhol. All works are scrutinized for authenticity by a team of 130 art historians, restorers and academics in one of the world’s most revered vetting processes. Nothing is accepted for display until it has been analyzed and approved.

While a typical New York art fair draws 10,000 to 12,000 visitors, the TEFAF regularly brings in more than 70,000 visitors from all over Europe, the Middle East and North America. They come to browse an inventory worth between $500 million and $1 billion. Although actual selling prices aren’t reported, a few years ago, a portrait of Minerva by Rembrandt was rumored to have sold for $40 million. This is what has brought me to Maastricht during a snowstorm.

We arrive at the Hotel Mabi, a low-key boutique hotel in the center of historic Maastricht. The hotel’s Hollywood theme seems a bit ironic in the midst of the ancient town with Romanesque and Gothic cathedral spires, castles and winding cobbled streets, but I’m desperate for a disco nap before hitting the fair, so it’ll do. “You must be here for the fair,” says the clerk behind a check-in desk, in English. Damn. I look like an American. I’m not fooling anyone. When I’m rested enough to feel lucid, I crawl out of bed, back into my winter coat and into the back of a cab. Despite my jet lag, I’m determined to make it to the private viewing – tomorrow the general public will be admitted. “To the TEFAF,” I tell the driver, though I suspect he already knows the only place a foreigner would be going in this weather.

INT. MAASTRICHT EXHIBITION AND CONGRESS CENTER
The party – this is no convention – begins. The 95,000-square-foot exhibition hall is decked out with more than 10,000 tulips that lead the way to a network of galleries designed so elegantly they look permanent. Albrecht Neuhaus, a dealer whose brick and mortar shop is in Würzbug, Germany, has gone all out and recreated an entire Regency period room once found in Paris’s Chateau Percy. The carved oak panels, parquet floor and chandelier that make up his “booth” date from 1720. “It’s worth the effort,” says Neuhaus. “This is the biggest fair in Europe, and it’s the only one Americans come to.”

Guests in fur hats, pin-striped suits and haute couture gowns gather around black leather sofas and cocktail tables, sipping martinis (I’m guessing shaken not stirred) and wine. Potential buyers bend forward, pointing at paintings, slipping on their reading glasses. The careful ones pull out magnifying glasses, others reach for cigarettes. I think of the acid-free paper everyone at home uses to display their family snapshots and ask a dealer if he’s worried about the smoke ruining his paintings. He looks down at me with an expression that seems to say, “You are such an American.” Then he speaks. “These paintings have survived the soot soaked air of the Industrial Revolution. I don’t think a little smoke will hurt them.” I suspect he’s got at least a pack-a-day habit.

Collectors and curators socialize, shouting “guten tag” or “bonjour.” They kiss cheeks and slap backs while meeting colleagues, old friends and competitors from years before. They cluster around tables or paintings as servers flow through like casino cocktail waiters with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. There are whispered rumors that 100 private jets flew in to Maastricht Airport in the last 24 hours. One thing’s for certain, I’m surrounded by the world’s most discerning connoisseurs of art who are spending millions on pieces to display in their museums and even their homes.

This year’s buzz is Head of a Young African in a Turban, painted in 1610 by renowned Flemish artist Peter Paul Rubens. The subject was a model for King Balthazar in Rubens’s Adoration of the Magi, which currently hangs in the Prado in Spain. Expecting a crowd, I try to avoid it, but when I discover it by accident, I’m stopped in my tracks from across the room. The colors, the drama, the expression – it’s so much more alive than the photo in my catalog. I wonder what they’re asking for it?

A few rooms over at the Jablonka Galerie, I am wowed by a labyrinth of black walls covered in more abstract faces – Picassos. The room is dark and the artistically distorted women are brightly lit against the black walls so that they appear to glow. I study the women’s expressions, Picasso’s brush strokes, and imagine the world in his day, just as I would at a museum. But the people around me – they’re shopping, they’re touching, they’re saying things like “That would look good in the back hall.”

New York gallery owner David Tunick isn’t surprised. “There are a lot of people here on a lark to buy and indulge themselves,” he says. A few years ago, a couple from California came with a curator to advise them and bought a handful of rare old master drawings for their home. Apparently, it was a one-time spree because he never heard from the couple again.

I travel back and forth through time browsing Warhol’s Mona Lisa, and significant works by Durain, Rembrandt, Cassatt, Chagall, Ernst, Degas. Then I wander past the jewelry wing where women dressed in couture are gathered around a display of 10-carat yellow diamond rings by Graff. Nearby, I peek at the “Star of America,” the largest D flawless octagonal diamond in the world – 100.57 carats – before happening into a section of the exhibition center devoted to swords, breast plates and entire field armor suits. Another wing is filled with medieval illuminated manuscripts – handwritten Bibles, prayerbooks and scientific treatises with colorful, gilded glosses. I stare through the glass case at a two-foot thick velum manuscript painstakingly written in calligraphy and illustrated by hand in 1540.

“ Do you see something you like?” asks Dr. Jörn Günther, an antiquarian with shops in Hamburg and London. Before I can say I’m just looking, he opens the case and pulls out the book, encouraging me to touch it. The paper is as thin as tissue, and in the center of the book is an elaborate instrument, a 36-layer wheel of concentric disks that line up to calculate the movement of the planets. I imagine the Renaissance astronomer in his workshop creating this piece of art in an attempt to understand the workings of the universe. I imagine this scientist applying drawing techniques perfected over centuries on Bibles, working with as much reverence as a monk illustrating the gospels.

I imagine buying the book and displaying it in a laser beam-protected glass case designed to foil the black-clad thieves who work for a cat-loving man intent on ruling the world with this antiquated device.

Herr Günther asks “What do you think?”

I sigh. “I think someone cast me in the wrong role.”

——————————————————————————

For more information, visit the Netherlands Board of Tourism at www.visitholland.com or The European Fine Arts Foundation at www.tefaf.com.

Where to stay: Hotel Mabi, www.hotel-mabi.nl, +31 (0)43 351 44 44
Kruisherenhotel, www.chateauhotels.nl, +31 (0)43 329 2020.

By Tiffany Hawk

When someone suggests buying a hotel condo, what’s the first thing that comes to mind? Florida? Time share? Aunt Edna? Never-ending sales pitches over watered-down coffee and stale cookies reminiscent of an AA meeting? Well, that was then. This is now: private chefs, soaring high-rises, personal butlers, European estates, Ian Schrager designs, rooftop pools, Michelin three-star restaurants, and perhaps most importantly, a genuine opportunity to build equity in some of the world’s most happening urban centers and most sought after vacation destinations.

In 1994, Steve Dering, president of DCP International, started a revolution in travel ownership when he unveiled the world’s first luxury residence club, the Deer Valley Club in Park City, Utah, which was (and still is) renowned for its premier skiing, posh amenities and an ownership model that just makes sense. Although most of the property’s buyers could have purchased whole second homes in the area, they didn’t need to. By studying the typical Park City vacation-home owner’s needs, Dering was able to offer all the benefits of a second home without the hassles or the high cost. The key was designing a home-sharing opportunity that would allow owners to use the property as often as they would if it was theirs alone and to guarantee availability when they wanted it (i.e. ski season). The model he created is now an industry standard. In most fractional programs, members purchase a deeded stake (often between a 1/4 and 1/10 interest) and are guaranteed a certain amount of time varying from weeks to months, at the property. The number of owners and days are carefully calculated and scheduled to fit each destination’s characteristics.

After wild success in Deer Valley, DCP International has since helped developers custom design programs for fractional properties throughout the country from Napa to Santa Fe to Manhattan, where the first urban residence club, the Phillips Club, proved the model works in cities as well as tourist destinations.

For several years, Dering’s idea slowly spread to developers, hotel chains and resorts. Then in August 2005, the movement that began in Park City was catapulted to new heights by the trend-setting Setai in Miami, a sleek, modern 40-story high-rise with multi-million dollar private residences and a “member’s only” ownership club that includes access to chauffeur-driven luxury cars and high-end cruising boats. This illustrious condo-hotel’s exhaustive list of high-profile founders – names like Sheryl Crow, Janet Jackson and Lenny Kravitz – has created climactic hype for the own-your-own vacation. Now it seems no upscale resort would think of opening without a real estate component. Names like the Four Seasons, the W, the Ritz-Carlton, and the St. Regis are clamoring to sell their rooms as full-time homes, second home investments, fractional buy-ins, and destination club memberships.

Over the last few years, this trend has exploded out of its leisure-destination roots. In fact, posh residence hotels, where wealthy homeowners live fully-serviced lives of luxury are popping up everywhere. Dallas now has the W Dallas-Victory; Chicago’s Millennium Park will soon be home to the Fairmont Chicago Residences; in 2010, Los Angeles will get the Ritz-Carlton Marriott Marquis; San Francisco residents started moving into the St. Regis last November; Las Vegas is expecting new condo-hotels including the W Residences, Trump Towers and the MGM Residences; and in New York, two new Ian Schrager real-estate hotels, 50 Gramercy Park at the Gramercy Park Hotel and 40 Bond, are setting a new standard of urban refinement. Not to be outdone by the newcomers, even Manhattan legends like the Plaza are adding privately owned residences. And Americans hoping to own a little something under the Tuscan sun can buy, in part or in whole, at two properties: Palazzo Tornabuoni in Florence and Castello di Casole in the countryside near Siena.
Whether you’re looking for city, country, action, or sophistication, and whether it’s your second home or your primary domain, why not have access to maids, concierges, spas, restaurants, and a return on your investment?

SIDEBAR 1
Getting Practical
Fractional
Although there are more programs and properties than we could ever mention – all with unique benefits and nuances – here are a few practicalities to keep in mind. With the better programs, while owners have a deed to a specific unit, they aren’t restricted to or guaranteed use of just that property. If two owners of the same villa wanted to visit on the same weekend and 10 other villas were empty, it would be silly for one of them to have to stay home. Much like the fractional private jet market, owners share each other’s properties, and in many cases can enjoy extreme flexibility. For example, if an owner has four weeks in the villa, he could use that time in four villas for one simultaneous week. And as long as a villa is available, often times he could use much more than his guaranteed time.
As for the investment, not only does it offer the possibility of appreciation (like a traditional home) but the home can also be rented out when the owners aren’t using it to the profit of both the hotel and the owners. The branding power associated with big-name hospitality companies like Starwood and the Four Seasons not only attracts buyers to the properties, it can help those buyers rent out their units, thus defraying the cost of their own precious escapes.
If you like variety, ask about alliance programs that will let you buy a fraction of one property in your favorite getaway spot and also allow you access to affiliated private homes in other regions or countries.

Whole Ownership
Whether buying in a condo, in a boutique hotel or a villa in a residential resort, the process will be much like any other home purchase: Think: down payment, mortgage, interest rates. The big difference will be amenities and marketing. Properties will almost unilaterally offer a rental program where hotel guests will stay in your home. While this will offset your costs, the hotel will take a large cut and/or charge fees for their marketing and reservations efforts. Although some resorts will allow you unlimited time in the unit and an opt-in rental scheme, most will restrict your own usage and require rental participation.

Destination Clubs
Although they do not offer a real estate investment, destination clubs (to confuse you, they may even call themselves “residence clubs”), are an incredible opportunity for flexible and luxurious travel. Programs like Quintess, Catch the Dream (see page 286), Ultimate Resort, and Exclusive Resorts provide access to opulent private homes throughout the world in return for a membership fee and annual dues. More like a traditional time share – without the time and place restrictions – these clubs are pre-paid vacations where you’re buying vacation experiences, not property. While fractional-ownership is ideal for those in love with a particular place, destination clubs are perfect for the traveler who wants to feel at home anywhere in the world.

SIDEBAR 2
Get a Room (or a house)
Chances are you can find a residence or club anywhere you’d like to be

For the skiier
The Ritz-Carlton Club A 1/12 interest at The Ritz-Carlton Club, Aspen Highlands, lets owners spend 28 days per year at the most celebrated ski destination in the country. www.ritzcarltonclub.com
The Residences at the Chateau, Deer Valley Near the original residence club at one of the most luxurious properties in Park City, The Chateau brings fractional ownership to a new level. www.chateau
residences.com.

For the Golfer
The Residence Club at PGA West The 3,300-square foot villas at PGA West in La Quinta are worth mentioning in their own right, but owner’s golf privileges such as preferential tee times and prices at PGA West make for a valuable investment. www.residenceclubpgawest.com.
La Costa Resort Villas Close to home and known for its golf courses, spa and tennis courts, La Costa is now selling privately owned residences from $1 million that can be used up to 120 days per year (the homes are rented to guests for the remainder). www.lacostaresortvillas.com.

For the Blueblood
The Villas at Rancho Valencia can make you an insider in San Diego’s Rancho Santa Fe, considered to be the most exclusive community in the country. With homes ranging from $2.5 to $25 million, owning a second residence doesn’t come cheap, but with fractional ownership, $425,000 will get you in and give you coveted access to the member’s only polo grounds nearby. www.villasranchovalencia.com.

For the Oenophile
Auberge’s Lodges Calistoga Ranch is Napa’s only private residence resort and its romance includes 157 wooded acres complete with a private lakefront restaurant, a wine cave and thermal spring-fed bathhouse offering spa treatments. www.
calistogaranchliving.com.

For the Urbanite
New York Ian Schrager’s new residences at the Gramercy Park Hotel will be this world-famous designer’s first residential property. www.50gramercyparknorth.com.
Miami The trend-setting Setai offers 44 floors of chic Asian-inspired design and every amenity one could imagine. www.setai.com
Chicago The Ritz-Carlton Residences, Chicago, Miracle Mile. Construction on this expected-to-be-glamorous high-rise will begin any day and should be completed by 2008. Eighty-six elegantly appointed homes will range from 1,800 to 5,700 square feet and start at $1.25 million for whole ownership – a fractional program is also available. www.ritzcarltonrealestate.com.
The Fairmont Chicago. Across from Millennium Park, this upscale hotel will offer luxury and flexibility. In addition to a fractional option, condos starting from $299,000 will be whole-owned with unlimited visits and an opt-in, revenue sharing rental program. www.ownatfairmontchicago.com.
San Francisco The St. Regis San Francisco. This new 40-story tower in SOMA embodies the modernity and the luxury associated with the city’s resurging tech boom (a.k.a.Web 2.0). www.starwood
hotels.com.
Los Angeles The 54-story Ritz-Carlton Marriott Marquis is expected to open its doors in 2010 at the much-hyped L.A.
Live sports entertainment complex near Staples Center.

For the Europhile
Castello di Casole Palazzo Tornabuoni. The hotel ownership model has finally reached Europe and is launching in Italy with two new properties, Castello di Casole and Palazzo Tornabuoni.

At Las Ventanas al Paraiso, you don’t need a lover (though one wouldn’t hurt) to indulge in one of the most sensual experiences on earth.

When you think of two single girls, one of them (me) in a fragile post-breakup state, escaping to Baja, it’s logical to expect a happening hotel in downtown Cabo San Lucas and hot, steamy nights of margarita-fueled dancing and partying at El Squid Roe, Cabo Wabo and The Giggling Marlin. I, however, planned a trip just a bit further up the coast in the more refined Cabo Real area and booked a suite at Las Ventanas al Paraiso, fabled to be the most romantic place on the planet. A good idea? Probably not. But I wanted luxury: Jacuzzi tub, marble shower, impossibly high-thread-count linens. Hell, I deserved gourmet meals, decadent spa treatments and Evian-spritzed afternoons by the Infinity pool. Besides, I was there to research the resort’s forward-thinking dedication to using native Mexican ingredients and traditions. So what if they were expecting me to show up with my ex and the director of romance planned to wow me by letting the honeymoon spigot flow. How romantic could it really be?

Kim and I pull up to the grand entrance with its breezeway view to the Sea of Cortez, a hint at how the resort lives up to its name “Windows to Paradise.” When we, two women, emerge from the car, a look of surprise registers on the staff’s otherwise eager smiling faces before they grab our suitcases and whisk us to our suite for a private check in.

We enter through a heavy, hand-carved cedar door to a foyer where fresh fruit and a bottle of premium 100% blue agave tequila flanked by almonds, limes and salt await. No plastic cup of watered-down welcome Margarita here. I introduce myself and Kim, who I point out is my friend, in case they think we’re honeymooning after a “typical” California commitment ceremony (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it wouldn’t lend authority to my story on Mexican tradition).

We’re shown limestone floors, a wood-burning adobe fireplace, and a hand-tiled mosaic headboard with inlaid pebbles that emphasize the resort’s dedication to artistry and authenticity. It’s immediately obvious that these are indeed the largest standard rooms in Mexico. An enormous bathroom with a whirlpool tub can, if you open the shutters, overlook the ocean. We’re more impressed with the second sink in the dressing room so we can primp at the same time. (Maybe they’re prepared for a same-sex couple after all.) Vanishing glass doors open to the ocean-view patio with Jacuzzi, integrating the indoor and outdoor living spaces.
I take the spiral staircase to our rooftop terrace, a remarkably private space the size of our suite with walls on three sides, meaning we can see the ocean but the other guests can’t see us. I flop down on the chaise and for the first time I wish I were with a man. I’m a prude and am reveling in the most privacy I could ever expect outside in the salty ocean air, overlooking miles of gorgeous blue sea, nothing between me and the clouds or the soon-to-be-stars. (Sorry Kim, I’m going to have to kick you out if I meet someone here.)

For now it’s time for tequila tasting. I’m familiar with wine tasting but am a bit skeptical of its Mexican equivalent. I usually reserve my tequila for the occasional margarita, as the last time I took a shot of the stuff was in a taco bar in Tokyo of all places. It didn’t go well. Just ask the cab driver who had to pull over for me. This time it fits the location, so I’ll do as the locals do. I’ve been assured that no matter how crude a tasting trip to the Tequila and Ceviche Bar – with its more than 100 varieties of tequila – may seem, it’s as refined as anything I’d experience in Napa. Today’s class consists of just me and Kim, and the bartenders line up five shots – each – paired with fresh seafood ceviches. We learn about the history of the drink – it is produced in and named after a region in Jaliso called Tequila where distillers have been hard at work for more than 200 years. While all tequila is based on the blue agave cactus, the good stuff is 100% blue agave – nothing more, nothing less. We taste everything from $100-a-shot premium añejo (aged from one to eight years) with a rich oaky flavor from the oak casks in which it’s aged, to a more mellow reposado (rested, or aged between two months and a year), to the more gasoline-flavored blanco (white/silver) that is bottled immediately. We sip each of them slowly, rolling the liquor around on the tips of our tongues, exploring the rich and complex earthy, vanilla, and pepper flavors.

Although we’re already a little tipsy, we’re expected at a wine dinner (six courses, six glasses of wine) at The Restaurant, the resort’s open-air fine dining, well, restaurant. Tonight’s presentation, the chocolate menu, created by Executive Sous Chef Juan Pablo Loza Gomez, who came to Las Ventanas from the famed Le Cirque, celebrates his country’s historical ingredients through modern sophisticated cuisine. It may sound like a gimicky Iron Chef challenge, but cacao has been an integral part of the region’s cuisine from the time of the Aztecs.

Chef Pablo introduces himself and trips over his words (perhaps it’s a ploy for a good review) saying he can’t find his English because such beautiful writers have never visited the restaurant. Ploy or no ploy, we’re blushing as we’ve never visited a restaurant with such a beautiful chef. An elegant and subtle mariachi band plays love songs. A few yards away, waves crash on the sand. Twinkling lanterns surround the perfectly still Infinity pool before us. We stare into the eyes of a chef who embodies the resort’s gentle, loving temperament while exuding the suggestive latin machismo of a telenovela.

But, yes, the food… We begin with sea scallops with arugula, mint and blueberry salad with chocolate and want to lick the plates to get every last burst of simultaneous sweet, salty and tangy, flavor. The Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand is lovely, but it’s the second pairing that really starts to cook. A shrimp enchilada with chocolate molé that’s spicy and bubbly is set off by the bubbles from a Moet & Chandon Brut Imperial Rose from Epernay France. “It only gets better from here,” says Chef Pablo, who creates his tasting menus to build and build to a finale. We don’t believe it can get any better and tell him so. “Just wait. You’ll see,” he promises.
He doesn’t lie. A red snapper with hoja santa (or “holy leaf,” an anise-flavored aromatic herb native to the region), goat cheese, green tomato, and chocolate melts in our mouths and is complemented by the most gorgeous wine of the evening – a Chardonnay from Valle de Parras, Mexico. Dating from the 16th century, it’s the oldest winery in America. We devour a beef fillet with sweet potato, red wine sauce, black pepper, and white chocolate then get ready for the Mexican chocolate cappuccino and Roquefort, a mousse made with a grainy Mexican chocolate, and end with a pineapple and chocolate mixiote (agave skin) with holy leaf ice cream. A wine from Ensanada that is probably fantastic, though I’m not in a state to notice details, finishes off the dinner. Drunk as I may be, this has truly been the most sensual meal of my life, with every tastebud on my palate feeling alive. It has nothing to do with the beautiful chef or the fact that when he asks where we are staying I point precisely to the light at the end of our rooftop terrace. Fortunately for both of us, he doesn’t pay attention.

We return to the room sans chef to find dozens of flickering candles laid out throughout the suite and hundreds of rose petals – not scattered but painstakingly placed on the bed. Burning candles also surround the just-drawn, rose-petal covered bubble bath. Enough with the romance; we call a car to take us to downtown Cabo. We dance to Bon Jovi covers at Cabo Wabo and hang upside down and take shots at the Giggling Marlin before we’re ready to face the most romantic place on earth again, alone… well together, but you know what I mean.
We sleep with the doors open, listening to the waves, wispy curtains blowing in the warm breeze then wake up in time for the perfect hangover-cure: the spa, aptly named The Spa. Traditional ingredients aren’t only used in the food at Las Ventanas, several spa treatments are based on local plants such as sage, chaparral and desert lavender, and for a deep body purification, they use the same mineral-rich Mexican clay used in Aztec and Mayan rituals. I chose the Nopal anti-cellulite and detox wrap. Who needs cellulite when lounging on the beach in a bikini? And I had to get the tequila, wine and more tequila out of my system. Nopales, commonly used in Mexican cooking, are the pads of a prickly pear cactus and are rich in vitamins A and C, and amino acids. Once comfortable in my open-air treatment room, I am exfoliated with a dry brush which wakes up my skin and prepares it for the cool, silky Nopal mask that is slathered all over me. As I soak in the nutrients, I relax with a mini-facial before rinsing off in a private outdoor shower. Refreshed and more moisturized than I’ve probably ever been – I can’t help but marvel at my hands, which look like they did when I was 20 – I unwind in the solarium with a cold, tangy Nopal-pineapple smoothie. No climate-controlled quiet room in Orange County can compete with lounging in the shade at this secluded desert garden. I doze. I soak in the sun. I sip my smoothie. I feel the warm baja breeze on my shiny, moisturized skin.

Las Ventanas is about embracing what Mexico has to offer: the traditions, the native ingredients, the nature. It’s about enveloping your body and every one of its senses in the sun, the sea air, the desert landscape. I tell Kim I need some alone time and head to my rooftop terrace to rid myself of tan lines, basking in all that is Baja. I love Mexico.
Junior Suites at Las Ventanas range from $500 to $975 per night; One-to three-bedroom suites range from $875 to $5,500 per night. For more information, visit www.lasventanas.com.

I paddle my kayak around a bend in the cove and gasp. Two sea lions are playing only inches away. My first instinct is awe, so I stop paddling afraid to scare them off. Suddenly, a bull as big as a barrel, at least seven feet long and probably almost 1,000 pounds, lifts his head out of the water and bares enormous bloody teeth. I freeze, trying to hide my fear – like you’re supposed to with a rabid dog or a black bear. The three sea lions swim closer, diving under me then popping up on either side of my kayak. I’m new to kayaking and terrified the smallest nudge will tip me over.
“Are they being friendly, or are they angry?’ I ask Josh, my guide. I speak carefully, like a ventriloquist as if the movement of my mouth might give me away and encourage the sea lions to spring for an early dinner. I imagine being knocked out of the kayak then swimming to shore and rubbing twigs together to signal rescuers with coded rings of smoke. I look to Josh, hoping he’ll tell me it’s going to be okay, that these enormous slippery mammals love company. Instead, without moving a muscle, he says “I don’t know if this is safe. I’ve never seen them get so close to people.”
I put my oar back in the water, just an inch, hoping to creep away without making a ripple. I paddle so slowly and quietly I could be stirring an overflowing cup of tea. Miraculously, this is enough to propel me through the glassy water to safety.

I’m not a wildlife person – or I wasn’t before coming to Alaska – so I’m surprised to find myself sharing my personal space with sea lions, looking down through icy water at pulsating neon jellyfish, pointing out bald eagles in the trees above, and brushing past the hundreds of Technicolor starfish that hang from the dripping cliffs and inlets of Thumb Cove in Alaska’s Kenai Fjords National Park.
I usually prefer trips to big cities or exotic lands where I can enjoy good meals and saucy cocktails, but when my friends Kara and Dave announced a destination wedding in Seward, Alaska – a small port town about 130 miles south of Anchorage – I found myself buying a ticket to the Last Frontier. Not that there’s anything wrong with Alaska. In fact, I always figured I’d make it there someday. Maybe when I retired, or finally broke down and spent thousands of dollars and two weeks of time on a cruise ship. Instead, I stole away for a long weekend. I gave up the idea of partying on a floating city of a cruise ship and explored the majestic ice covered coast of the Kenai Peninsula by intimate fishing boat and sea kayak. It wasn’t the Alaska I’d always imagined – it was infinitely better.
When I arrived in Anchorage airport’s rustic north terminal where the walls are covered in preserved moose heads and petrified fish, I thought I’d landed in a wilderness so remote that penguins would be signing on to immigration waitlists. Locals stood around the baggage claim conveyer belt anxiously waiting for ice chests to clank down. Facing scarce local supplies, they’re forced to make regular trips to the lower 48 to stock up on food. These packrats reinforced my backwater expectations. Then somehow, only a few hours and a few hundred miles later, after I’d been wowed by whales and scared by sea lions and bears, the rest of the world seemed remote in relation to how far it is from Alaska. And my glamorous cities seemed barbaric for shunning their wildlife and open spaces.
I’m not the only one whose state of mind was transformed after visiting the 49th state. Hailing from Louisiana, Illinois, California and especially Pennsylvania, almost everyone I met had moved there as an adult shortly after their first visit. Josh, my kayak guide, fell in love with Seward after backpacking there a few years ago. Now, he goes back to Pennsylvania, where he grew up, each winter then comes home to Seward as soon as the ground begins to thaw. He lives in a bunkroom at Miller’s Landing, the campground and tour company that pays him to ensure naïve tourists like me don’t get eaten by sea creatures.
When I wandered into the campground looking for a tour, Josh was thrilled to get out on the water for the first time since he’d been back and felt lucky to have a customer so early in the season. It was the end of April, and as he says, “no one comes before Memorial Day.” I felt lucky too. I was so early that the cashiers were still trying to remember how to work the register. The two giggling ladies couldn’t remember how much to charge for a trip, how to book it or how to ring it up. Embarrassed, they offered me an early-bird discount – half off.
It seemed the entire town of Seward was just waking up, dusting itself off and opening its doors. While a few brave souls hunker down each winter risking the frozen tundra to live there year-round, the town itself shuts down when the tourists stop coming and the fish stop biting. The funky seaside town resembles the village of Cecily on “Northern Exposure.” Although I never saw a moose cruising down Seward’s mile-long main drag, I kept my eye out for what I figured to be as regular an event as waiting for an exotic car to happen down PCH. The ambience was so quaint but so alive, I imagined staying forever.
Instead, I stayed at the Hotel Edgewater, one of the area’s few upscale hotels. Standing on my balcony overlooking Resurrection Bay and its stunning mountain perimeter, amid a record-setting high temperature of 73-degrees, I understood perfectly why my friends chose to come so far to take their vows. I left my window open and stared at the icy scenery while enjoying a balmy breeze, the curtains blowing lightly, in a room that remained drenched in sun until nearly 11 p.m. – one of the earliest sunsets of the tourist season.
The next morning, sore from my paddling adventure, I woke to another warm sunny day on the icy bay, then walked to the harbor where Kara and Dave, decked out in glamorous wedding attire, introduced the guests to Captain Terry of the Crackerjack Express, the 40-foot fishing boat they rented for the occasion. It wasn’t the Hornblower Yacht I was expecting; in fact, they squeezed 14 of us onbaord even though they normally limit the boat to 12 passengers. Though unlike their normal crowd, we didn’t plan to catch seven-foot long halibut. The captain explained that we’d be the first boat out there all year, so he wasn’t sure he’d be able to cut through the ice to bring us all the way to our planned stop, Aialik Glacier, a four-mile-wide tidewater glacier a few hours away.
We cruised for a few hours, watching schools of black and white Dall’s porpoises playing against our bow wake. Captain Terry said it’s their equivalent of a roller coaster, and they played in front of us for miles. Leaning over the edge of the boat against forceful wind, I felt I was the one at an amusement park. Captain Terry whipped the boat around corners, cliffs, boulders, and small islands like we were in a speedboat. We reached out to touch the surrounding cliffs. I felt like a pirate as we ducked in and out of inlets, surrounded by waterfalls, searching the clear water for sand dollars on the bottom.
He pulled inside Chat cove where the water was so smooth inside it looked like an Infinity pool with a disappearing ledge to the ocean. At the ledge, sit three tiny islands. The bigger of them is Big Chat, the littler one is Little Chat and the itsy bitsy one is called Chitty Chat. The captain cut the engine and ran out onto the bow and pointed at a spot where a whisp of mist lingered in the breeze. A moment later and a few feet away we saw another stream of mist shoot up from the water as a humpback whale surfaced then dove back down. When he popped up a hundred yards away, we thought he was swimming away from the boat, then we realized it was a second whale when they both surfaced at the same time. We learned that they typically come up three or four times for air before taking a deep plunge. That final plunge is the one to watch; just before they disappear, they fling their tail into the air.
Still resting inside the cove, we watched bald eagles glide through the air and feed their young in cliffside nests. As we pulled away, Terry spotted something on the cliff, whipped the boat around and shushed us all. He pointed first to a white spot then a black spot on the mountain. We inched closer, and the spots started to move. In an instant, the white spot became a mountain goat, and the black turned into a black bear scrambling up the cliff. “Focus on any area of the mountain without snow, look for black bears, they stand out like nobody’s business,” said Captain Terry.
A few miles later, three glaciers, all part of the Harding Ice Field (North America’s largest), came into view. We closed in on our destination, Aialik Glacier, but had to dodge icebergs and cut through thin sheets of ice. They grew more and more numerous, glistening in the sun and melting into shapes like ice sculptures or Swarovski crystals. Floyd, the deck hand, reached down and fished some smaller ones out and threw them on the deck for us to admire. Some of the bergs were as big as small islands, so big that dozens of harbor seals used them as deck chairs and laid out to catch some sun. The boat slowed to a crawl and we crunched our way through thicker and thicker ice, gasping at the hideous wrenching noises from under the hull ¬¬– anyone who has seen the movie Titanic will recognize the sound of boat scraping on ice. The last half-mile took nearly an hour to get through but we crept toward to glacier, a stunning backdrop for the ceremony.
The glacier looked like it was 20 yards away, but when chunks of ice cracked off and crashed to the water, we could see them well before we heard them, like thunder. It turned out to be more than half a mile away.
The wedding was beautiful, so beautiful that the guests were as sorry for me as they were happy for the bride and groom. “How will you possibly put this in words?” I hear at least once from almost everyone on board. “I can’t,” I say. “I’ll just tell people to go. I’ll just say, don’t wait, take a long weekend and go. Now.” Yes, that still sounds about right. Even if you’re not a wildlife person.
Where to stay
Hotel Edgewater (888) 793-6800 www.hoteledgewater.com
Hotel Seward (800) 655-8785 www.hotelsewardalaska.com
Holiday Inn Express (907) 224-2550 www.icthotelgroups.com

SIDEBAR
Riding the Rails
If you only have a weekend and want to see the coast and the interior, hop aboard the Alaska Railroad. The 12-hour train ride from Anchorage to Fairbanks will take you through some of the state’s most beautiful country. You’ll wind past the Susitna and Talkeetna rivers, admiring North America’s tallest mountain, Mt. McKinley for hours before and after you pass it. To get up close to the peak and explore the wilderness without a window, get off at Denali National Park about eight hours north of Anchorage. For the best views, sit upstairs in the glass domed viewing deck, and when you get hungry, spend some time in the dining car. When you finally reach Fairbanks (count on being a few hours late ¬¬– trains in Alaska are subject to the same delays as anywhere else), Stay at The Wedgewood Resort (907-452-1442) or the Westmark Fairbanks Hotel (907-456-7722) then take a tour of the University of Alaska Museum of the North: a sophisticated new expansion designed by Joan Soranno, one of Frank Gehry’s protégés, will open in September. If the nights still include darkness (late August through April), take advantage of your time in the Arctic Circle and look for the Northern Lights. When you’re ready to head home, unless you have the patience of a Tibetan monk, skip the return train ticket and fly back. For more information visit www.alaskarailroad.com or www.explorefairbanks.com.

Hotelier Gordon Campbell Gray is a master at transforming popular – in the positive and negative senses of the word – tourist haunts into the hippest, most sought after destinations around. With his sister hotels, London’s One Aldwych and Antigua’s Carlisle Bay, Gray is two for two in the race to redefine the luxury vacation.

By TIFFANY HAWK and VICTORIA NAMKUNG

One Aldwych – London
The Location One Aldwych, Gray’s five-star boutique hotel in London’s Covent Garden, brought sophistication to a superbly located area previously known mainly for street performers, flea markets and busloads of teenage American tourists. In the past, those looking for luxury were stuck with the stuffy grand hotels on the other side of town. Yes, Hyde Park’s hotel row will do, but it doesn’t get more authentically London cool or more convenient than this. One Aldwych is just a quick walk to West End theaters, Oxford Street shops and corporate HQs in The City. Perhaps inspired by One Aldwych (the neighborhood’s cool kid), the nearby Seven Dials roundabout has gone decidedly upmarket as well. The self-proclaimed “antidote to impersonal high street shopping” is home to several dozen of the capital’s hottest shops. Try Superlovers for Japanese club wear, Coco de Mer for scandalous couture lingerie, Cath Kidston for whimsical designs, Belgo for Belgian mussels and beer, or Neil’s Yard Dairy for more than 50 types of cheese.

The Rooms Although each of the 105 rooms features a stylish contemporary look created by famed designer Mary Linton Fox and comes with every au courant four or five-star amenity you can think of – original artwork, daily fresh fruit and flowers, Frette linens, down comforters, wireless Internet access, CD players with CD libraries, mist-free mirrors, and heated bathroom floors – it’s the helpful extras that make this one of central London’s finest establishments. Gray, a frequent traveler and avid reader, found that even the world’s legendary hotels make nighttime reading a chore, so he’s provided a gooseneck fiberoptic lamp at every bedside. And more valuable than a simple mint, turndown service is accompanied by the next day’s weather report.

The Food With every level of restaurant from posh dining to chichi nightlife to espresso bar, you don’