Umbrella by Swaine Adeney Brigg

Where? 54 St James’s Street SW1, +44 (0)20 7409 7277, www.swaineadeney.co.uk
How much? From £210

For the discerning gentleman, an umbrella is not just for keeping the rain off, but is a telling status symbol. Swaine Adeney Brigg is as traditional a company as they come. Originating in 1836, it has been making umbrellas for the British royal family ever since. The company’s signature pieces include the Brigg Malacca umbrella handle, fashioned from Malaysian Malacca cane, but the ultimate in luxury has to be the ebonised wood umbrella. There is also a ladies’ parasol with rhino horn handle, a snip at just £1,200. You wouldn’t want to be leaving that on the train now, would you?

Luggage by Globe Trotter

Where? 54-55 Burlington Arcade W1, +44 (0)20 7529 5950, www.globe-trotterltd.com
How much? From £195

Established in 1897, a Globe Trotter, with its old fashioned charm, is the archetypal English suitcase. Their suitcases are made from Vulcan Fibre, a unique, patented material that is as light as aluminium but as hardwearing as the finest leather, and can therefore last a lifetime. Each piece is lovingly hand-crafted at the company’s Hertfordshire factory by the same machines that were used in the early 1900s. Globe Trotter now offers a bespoke service that invites clients to choose from a selection of colours, exclusive Liberty-print linings, contrasting leather corners and personalised initialling.

Boxer Shorts by Schiesser

Where? Bread & Honey, 205 Whitecross Street EC1, +44 (0)20 7253 4455, www.schiesser.com
How much? Around £30

Specialising in fine-gauge cotton jersey underwear, German-brand Schiesser provides the most stylish boxer shorts around. Apart from the fine quality and easy shapes, what gives Schiesser its style credibility is the simple, graphic, retro packaging and its exclusivity – they are only available at a handful of small boutiques in London and New York. Who ever thought boxer shorts could be so desirable?

Bespoke suit by Henry Poole

Where? 15 Savile Row W1, +44 (0)20 7734 5985; www.henrypoole.com
How much? From around £2,915

From the streets of Milan to Paris and London, Europe has a rich heritage of bespoke tailoring, but nowhere has quite the same reputation as London’s Savile Row, the established home of the bespoke suit. But where do you go for the ultimate? It’s tough to pinpoint the absolute best – there are around 10 genuine bespoke tailors on Savile Row – but Henry Poole is certainly one of the most respected. The company, which celebrated its 200th anniversary in 2006, has been making bespoke suits for royalty ever since Edward VII (a renowned arbiter of taste) granted the company a royal warrant in the early 20th century.

The process is thorough and meticulous: it takes at least three appointments to get the ideal suit. The tailor starts by taking your measurements to make a pattern for the body. This is finely tuned at the second fitting, where the tailor checks details, such as the distance between the back collar and the shoulders as well as the trouser break in the shoes. At the third fitting, final details and adjustments are made. The end result is a slick suit that fits like a second skin. As Henry Poole’s managing director Simon Cundey says: “The aim is to feel like you’re not wearing a suit at all.”

Fountain pen by Mont Blanc

Where? 13 Old Bond Street W1, +44 (0)20 7629 5883, www.montblanc.com
How much? About £335

Mont Blanc was founded in Germany in 1906 and was innovative from the start, making fountain pens with blades instead of nibs for architects and engineers during the 1920s. But its most popular style is the Meisterstück, in particular the chubby, cigar-shaped 149 model. Made of black resin with a gold trim, the cap is topped with a signature Mont Blanc white star, a motif that represents the snow-covered summit of Mont Blanc itself. The nib is made from 18-carat gold with a platinum inlay. Mont Blanc has resolutely resisted the urge to use cartridges and so pens must still be filled with ink from a bottle.

Coat by Gieves & Hawkes

Where? 1 Savile Row W1, +44 (0)20 7434 2001, www.gievesandhawkes.com
How much? From £700

Based at one of London’s smartest addresses – no. 1 Savile Row – this British label dates back to 1771. With a history of producing fine military attire, Gieves & Hawkes’s contemporary designs utilise the brand’s rich heritage; its recent coat designs have included biker, trench and woollen pea coats.

Brogues by John Lobb

Where? 9 St James’s Street SW1, +44 (0)20 7930 3664, www.johnlobbltd.co.uk
How much? Bespoke brogues from £2,000

No other shoe has such classic appeal as a pair of finely crafted leather brogues, and nobody does them quite like John Lobb. Established in 1866, when Lobb designed a smart pair of riding boots for the Prince of Wales and was promptly awarded a royal warrant, the brand has since become a favourite with numerous well-heeled business men and celebrities including Cecil Beaton, W Somerset Maugham and, more recently Hugh Grant and Prince Charles, all of whom appreciate the classic style and superior craftsmanship of the house.

Stationery by Smythson

Where? 40 New Bond Street W1, +44
(0)20 7629 8558, www.smythson.com
How much? Bespoke from £187 for 100 cards and envelopes

Smythson stationery will earn you kudos. They are the Queen’s favourite stationers, with three royal warrants, and have been used in the past by everyone from Sigmund Freud to Grace Kelly. The company was founded in 1887 when Frank Smythson started producing lightweight diaries. Stationery quickly followed, as did a bespoke service, which nowadays includes hand-engraved motifs; tissue-lined envelopes in a variety of colours; hand-painted borders and different type styles.

All these items and more can be found in Charlotte Williamson and Maggie Davis’s book 101 Things to Buy Before You Die, published by New Holland and recently updated for 2010

BETWEEN HIS HOMES IN LONDON, New York, Cap Ferrat in the south of France, Geneva (his legal residence), and Gstaad, a 150-foot yacht, a private jet, a winery and vineyard in South Africa, it’s almost impossible to pin down Laurence Graff. With his well-known trait for avoiding the press, the British chairman of Graff Diamonds is something of an international man of mystery.

But to anyone who knows their jewellery, Graff is a household name. The son of Jewish immigrants, the 71-year-old has built one of the most powerful companies in the diamond industry from scratch, earning himself an estimated £1.2 billion according to the 2009 Sunday Times Rich List. He did it by taking control of the whole production process – and by taking some big money risks.

In 1987 the most successful jewellery auction of all time took place at Sotheby’s in Geneva – total sales hit $50 million. To this day, that figure has never been surpassed at any single auction. Among Graff’s acquisitions was Wallis Simpson’s 19-carat emerald engagement ring – a gift from the former King Edward VIII, who abdicated his throne for her.

“It is one of the finest emeralds I have ever seen,” Graff was quoted as saying at the time. “I’ve got the original jeweller’s invoice which was made out to ‘The King.’” He gave the ring to his wife Anne Marie for their 25th wedding anniversary.

Such is Graff’s importance that when one of the largest rough diamonds ever discovered was found in Lesotho’s Maluti mountains in 2006, the country’s president telephoned Graff immediately with the news. Within days, diamond experts from Safdico, Graff’s manufacturing and trading arm, were in Lesotho. Bidders each spent four hours examining the 603-carat rough stone. Two days later they presented their sealed offers. At a record-busting $20,500 per carat, Graff secured the stone for more than $12 million. “I am literally holding a piece of history in my hands,” he said at the time. The Lesotho Promise yielded 26 smaller stones which were later set into a show-stopping necklace; the asking price is rumoured to be $50 million.

Then in December 2008, at the height of the recession, Graff paid £15 million at Christie’s for the 35.52 carat Wittelsbach diamond, the most ever paid for a diamond at auction. It is currently on show in Washington’s Smithsonian museum. Graff calls the purchase “the climax of my career”.

And it’s a career which has followed an extraordinary trajectory. Graff spent his first seven years in a single-room apartment on Commercial Road in London’s East End, born to Jewish parents from Eastern Europe who ran a tobacconist.

In his coffee table book, The Most Fabulous Diamonds in the World, he documents how, aged 15 in 1960, he was sacked after three months at his first apprenticeship, where his duties included going out to buy sandwiches for the workers. But Graff’s unstoppable passion for diamonds, combined with raw ambition and a gift for building client relationships, brought him immense success.

“I was very observant as a young boy and wanted to learn everything,” he says. “I was making jewellery when I was 15 and when I saw my first diamond this set off a passion in me which has taken me all the way to being known as one of the world’s leading diamantaires.”

At 17, making Stars of David in his free time at a bench in his parents’ house to sell to friends, the young Laurence would probably not have imagined that he would open stores in London, Moscow, Geneva, New York, Monaco, Tokyo, Dubai and Shanghai; own cutting and polishing operations in Johannesburg, Antwerp, Mauritius and New York; have a stake in a major South African diamond mine, and receive four Queen’s Awards for Enterprise. In 1974 Graff opened his first major retail store in Knightsbridge where he began welcoming clients from the Middle East enriched by the oil boom.

“The Sultan of Brunei came into the store and so did every member of the Saudi Arabian royal family and other Middle Eastern families,” Graff says in his London boardroom. Already a personal friend of the Sultan of Brunei’s brother, Prince Sufri, Graff often helped his newly wealthy Arab clients find their way in London, connecting them with drivers and doctors. When Saudi princesses returned from their shopping trips, they would change into their new clothes in Graff’s office. One unforgettable day, Saudi Prince Turki bin Abdul Aziz walked in unannounced and bought out the entire shop including a 14-carat diamond.

Graff’s business would become the first in the diamond industry to be vertically integrated – able to take a diamond all the way from acquiring it in the rough through to selling it in one of his shops.

The vast majority of Graff’s jewellery production takes place in his headquarters, two adjacent 18th century townhouses in Mayfair. Diamond setters and polishers sit in an airy, spotless room, surrounded by the most advanced laser-welding machines on the market and top quality Leica microscopes.

Although Graff made the news late last year when it emerged he had fathered a child, now eight months old, with a former PA, the business remains very much a family enterprise. Graff has two sons – François, 44, who runs the London branch of his father’s business empire, and Stephane, 43, a successful artist – as well as a daughter, 29-year-old Kristelle, all with his wife Anne Marie, 71.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the business has not proved immune from the vagaries of the recession. In 2008, profits from UK operations were $77 million, down from $117 million in 2007. But Graff claims he is more confident now that diamond production has restarted and prices have increased. Following his boutique in Shanghai he is planning another in Beijing, and later this year he will open a luxury resort and spa in the heart of his South African vineyards. Graff will also be focusing on a leadership camp for 250 orphans and vulnerable youth in Africa, part of the Facet Foundation he set up in 2008 in memory of his mother.

In truth, with clients like the Beckhams, Donald Trump, Elizabeth Taylor and the Sultan of Brunei (Graff is rumoured to send a well-toned bodyguard or two along with top clients attending functions), he has little to fear from the credit crunch.

And he is already cultivating the next generation of customers. “My youngest client is three months old,” he admits, with a twinkle in his eye. The baby acquired a pink heart-shaped Graff diamond, paid for by her parents. An extravagant gift: but maybe an investment in a future passion and career.

Graff’s London store is at 6-7 New Bond Street W1, +44 (0)20 7584 8571, Moscow: 6 Tretiakovsky Proezd, +7 495 933 3385; www.graffdiamonds.com

Photography: © Camera Press

Photography: © Corbis

POPULATION: 1 million
VISITORS PER YEAR: 5.3m (foreign 4.5m, domestic 726,000 ; measured in terms of overnight stays, 2008)
LANGUAGE: French, Flemish
CURRENCY: Euro (€)
STREET-VENDOR WAFFLE: €1.50
ONE-BED FLAT IN CITY CENTRE: €85,000+

Brussels could be the world’s most global village. Unassuming, relatively affordable and compact, the capital of Belgium and the EU boasts all the advantages of a large metropolis yet retains its quaint provincial feel in parts. It has always been a cultural melting pot, having been ruled by the Austrians, the Spanish, the French and finally the Dutch, before Belgian independence in 1830.

One in four residents is foreign, mainly due to Brussels’ status as European capital. There is some truth to its dull, bureaucratic image but there is also a kaleidoscope of fascinating neighbourhoods, each with its unique character and flavour.

Brussels is divided between a Lower Town, where most sights are concentrated, and a more spacious Upper Town, which stretches from the hard-knock Marolles district to the genteel Place Royale; the latter is home to the new Magritte Museum, which contains more than 200 works by the Belgian surrealist artist, René Magritte.

All first-time visits start at the grandiose Grand Place, with its Gothic town hall and gabled buildings, all restored medieval guild houses. The city centre screams old-world cute, from the Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert shopping arcade to the Toone puppet theatre and pub.

In the centre, the St Jacques neighbourhood is Brussels’s answer to New York’s Greenwich Village, full of funky bars, eateries and secondhand bookstores, while St Géry attracts glamorous under-30s with its cluster of upmarket watering holes. There is no financial district as such: government is the main business here, and most of it gets done in the EU buildings concentrated around the Schuman metro stop and the Place du Luxembourg – some of it over expense-account lunches – and at Nato headquarters near the airport.

Brussels is a serious gourmet destination, so one need never search far for a Michelin-starred restaurant or the nearest frites or waffle stand. Traditional Belgian fare can be hearty and heavy, but there are plenty of innovative young chefs catering to contemporary palates. The top seafood restaurants are concentrated around the Place St Catherine, where fishing boats used to dock in the days when a river ran through Brussels; just follow the bright neon lobster signs and take your pick.

HOTELS

WHITE HOTEL
Very zen, ultra-modern design; with bike and scooter rentals. From €75. 212 Avenue Louise, +32 (0)2 644 2929, www.thewhitehotel.be

LE DIXSEPTIÈME
Old-world luxury in the swanky Sablon antiques district. From €180. 25 Rue de la Madeleine, +32 (0)2 517 1717, www.ledixseptieme.be

SHERATON BRUSSELS
Dependable four-star in city centre with top-floor pool, fitness room and sauna. From €109. 3 Place Rogier, +32 (0)2 224 3111, www.sheratonbrussels.com

RESTAURANTS

COMME CHEZ SOI
The crème de la crème of haute cuisine in a gorgeous Art Nouveau dining room; ringside views of chef Lionel Rigolet and team from kitchen tables. 23 Place Rouppe, +32 (0)2 512 2921, www.commechezsoi.be

AUX ARMES DE BRUXELLES
Hearty bruxellois fare in a bustling brasserie. 13 Rue des Bouchers, +32 (0)2 511 5550, www.auxarmesdebruxelles.be

CAFÉ DES SPORES
Boho gastro-wine bar where every dish is made from mushrooms. 103-108 Chaussée d’Alsemberg, +32 (0)2 534 1303, www.cafedesspores.be

FASHION

There is more to Brussels clothes shopping than Tintin ties and EU-blue boxer shorts. The Rue Antoine Dansaert (near the Bourse) is a Who’s Who of Belgian fashion and design, from Olivier Strelli (No. 44) to Barbie-doll worshipper Nicolas Woit (No. 80).

ART NOUVEAU

In the early 1900s, Brussels was a flourishing centre of Art Nouveau architecture. Feast your eyes on some real gems in the St Gilles neighbourhood, starting with the former home and studio of architect Victor Horta, now a museum (bus 54 or trams 81, 91, 92 or 97 to Place Janson).

A BRIEF HISTORY

AD 979: Bruocsella (“the swampy place”) founded when Lambert of Leuven inherits land from Duke Charles of Lower Lotharingia.
1696: French army bombards Brussels for two days in retaliation for attacks on French Channel ports. Grand Place completely rebuilt within five years.
1831: Leopold I sworn in as first King of the Belgians, at St Jacques-sur-Coudenberg church.
1958: Skyline forever changed with the Atomium, built for the World’s Fair.
1960s onwards: Brussels becomes the de facto capital of Europe and hundreds of thousands of square metres of office space are built.

CHEERS

Belgium may be known for its beer, but wine bars are sprouting up everywhere. Try Oeno TK, a loft-like space in the trendy Chatelain district. 29-31 Rue Africaine, +32 (0)2 534 6434, www.oenotk.be

BUSINESS TIPS FOR BRUSSELS

Steven Maisel, President of the British Chamber of Commerce in Belgium, shares his knowledge

• Look on Belgium as three distinct markets. Flanders is the business powerhouse and home to six of the country’s 10 million inhabitants. This is the Dutch or Flemish speaking part of the country. It’s OK to speak French here if you’re a Frenchman, but not necessarily if you’re Belgian. English is acceptable if you’re a Brit. Wallonia, the southern half, is Francophone. In Brussels the main language is French and the second is English, not Dutch.

• Though it’s the capital of Europe, office space is still reasonably priced. You can expect to pay considerably less than in Amsterdam, London or Paris; around €150 per square metre is quite usual.

• Hotel rates and availability are strongly influenced by the European parliamentary year. Travel during the annual recesses, around Christmas and in high summer, and you’ll get great deals.

• Employment law is stacked in favour of the employee and the rate of income tax is high. However, there is a special expatriate tax status for incoming workers; this brings the rate down to a much more manageable level. www.britcham.be

[ ZURICH ]

KLOSTERS IS PERHAPS BEST KNOWN for being the favourite Alpine hideaway for a number of European aristocrats. So it might not come as a surprise to learn that it’s also home to a quirky charity event which sees participants parade in fancy dress, perform musicals on the slopes and disco dance until dawn.

Wild Girls on Snow (14-17 March) is a three-day fundraiser for children’s charities. Last year, the Wild West-style antics drew participants such as violinist Vanessa-Mae and British writer Carol Thatcher, who donned Stetsons and spurs, threw tomahawks and got held up by outlaws. The theme this year is Strictly Come Skiing: that’s right, dancing on snow.

Founder Clair Southwell, an erstwhile aide to the Prince of Wales, combined her savvy event skills and VIP contacts with her passion for this charming mountain resort. However, Klosters’s reputation for being hyper-exclusive frustrates her.

“It’s thought of as a very chic resort but it’s actually very low key. There are lots of big celebrities that come here but no one in the local community bothers about them. It’s so different to other resorts, it’s got the heart of a village and it’s very welcoming to everyone.” Celeste O’Neill www.wildgirlsonsnow.com

ONE EVENING BACK IN 1996, I came home from my job in London to a message on my answering machine. How did I fancy going to work in Beirut? It couldn’t have come at a better time – I was itching for an adventure, although this was bigger than I had in mind.

I decided to go for it. “Lebanon? Is it safe?” friends asked. “Be careful you don’t get shrapnel between your toes,” joked my editor. Everyone thought it was a dangerous place. Despite the fact that the civil war had been over a full six years, the images of Beirut as a war-torn bomb site were hard to erase. I would soon discover it was far safer than where I lived in east London.

Meanwhile, I had other, more trivial, concerns. Was there electricity, I asked the editor of the Daily Star of Lebanon, the English-language newspaper where I was heading to work, over the phone one evening. (At least there were phones.) “We’ll supply you with candles,” he joked. Would I need to cover up? “You’d be surprised,” he replied. And, boy, I was.

Beirut had once been one of the most glamorous cities on the planet. In the 1960s it had a reputation in the Med as a playground for the rich and famous, but the civil war changed all that. When I got there, I found a city of contrasts and complexity. By day you could be watching a demonstration of Hezbollah supporters on the street, then by night find yourself dancing till dawn in a high-tech nightclub complete with sliding roof, listening to Ministry of Sound DJs.

The girls you’d see out at night were total glamazons — in the Mediterranean climate, who needs Puffa jackets and Uggs? It was little black dresses and Jimmy Choos even then. A decade later, I find the glamour quotient, if anything, has gone up.

My office was in Gemmayzeh, then a sleepy backwater of the Christian east, amid dusty antique shops, all-male cafés where old fellas would smoke nargileh (hubble bubble pipes) and play shesh-besh (backgammon), and a raft of elegant French-mandate-era homes. Nowadays the narrow pavements of Rue Gouraud are crammed with semi-naked teenagers on a Saturday night, tottering in high heels, arm in arm with friends as they bar-hop their way down the street. And you can forget driving there — unless you want to join the slow sports-car parade and make your own party.

This is the centre of the capital’s night scene, with bars such as Torino Express and Dragonfly leading the way. In the midst of this glamorama, I’m pleased to see the defiantly unglitzy old stalwart Le Chef keeps going, with the long-put-upon maître d’ Charbel still purveying some of the best food in Beirut.

A decade ago, Rue Monot was at the heart of the party. Just off the Green Line, which divided Christians from Muslims, east from west, during the war, the street heralded the start of Beirut’s nightlife revival. The war well and truly over, investment in infrastructure – motorways, bridges, even a new airport – and the renovation of the downtown area, had encouraged many well-travelled young Beirutis to return and set up business.

New, hip nightspots opened across the city almost every week, each more exotic and architecturally cutting-edge than the last. Monkey Rose and Zinc are long gone, although at B018, over in Karantina, owner Naji Gebran continues to draw a hip young crowd. The cocktails at Pacifico’s, at the end of Rue Monot, are still the talk of the town, although there have been several changes of identity for Circus (it’s Crystal these days — with Paris Hilton appearing the Saturday I was there). And the party isn’t over yet – the new roof-top bars in downtown, Sky and White, offer the coolest drinks in town.

Back in Monot, where I was lucky to live for two years, a more sedate crowd has moved in, with more trendy eateries than you can shake a shawarma at. The ancient Furn al-Nazra (Nazareth bakery), at the top of the street, which has been there since Jesus was a lad, still churns out the sweet brioche and flatbreads, stuffed cheese and spinach pastries that used to send such tempting smells up to my fourth-floor flat.

The view west from my old balcony has changed dramatically. I would once peer through rotting window frames into the remains of what resembled a stable, where refugees were camping out, the concrete floor smattered with straw. Today, the windows have been repaired, and glass put in; a quick lick of pale green paint, a few tables, et voila! – “What would you like on your pizza, sir?”

On the corner next to it, opposite Sodeco Square, on what is now prime real estate, stands the infamous Yellow House. During the war it was at a strategic point on the front line. In peacetime, it became derelict, and by the time I moved in, it was begging to be explored. A couple of friends and I clambered through the overgrowth one sunny afternoon and were shocked to find ourselves confronted by walls of sandbags protecting snipers’ nests on the top floor. Lower down there were piles of fabulously decorated tiles, the like of which can be found in many a traditional Lebanese house. Here they were all smashed up and unusable. In one room sat an old-fashioned dentist’s chair — who was the last person to go under the dentist’s drill before their peaceful existence was shattered, we wondered.

Looking further west across the Green Line, I once could see families living in buildings whose whole sides had been torn off by tank shells.

Kids would play on the balconies, regardless of the fact that there were no railings, just a sheer drop. Now those structures have either been pulled down or renovated. The Holiday Inn is a lingering reminder of the bad old days, as is Murr Tower, but for the most part there are far fewer scars of war to be seen on any buildings.

A restaurant called Babylone, just off Rue Monot on Abdel Wahab al Inglisi, was a regular haunt back then. It has become Julia’s today. New owner Gilbert Abela has a long-standing connection with the street. “I

It’s not just the nightlife that has had a revamp. Life on public transport was never straightforward in a city that for years didn’t even have traffic lights. Back then, anyone who owned a clapped-out jalopy could turn it into a serviwas shot 16 times, right over there. I never thought one day I would own a restaurant on the same street,” he tells me happily.ce taxi (and many did). New government regulations have seen many of the old diesel-powered Mercedes replaced by modern vehicles, even a few minibuses, all with plush interiors. The improvement in air quality is tangible: the heavy brown fug that used to hang over the city (especially noticeable on the drive back into town from the north) has vanished, and although this is a city in which it’s practically illegal not to smoke, the air is an awful lot cleaner.

My most memorable trip in a service was from the Charles Helou bus station: a Syrian farmer had just arrived from Damascus with a sheep in tow. I may not have known much Arabic at that point, but even I understood the driver wanted him to pay for the sheep, and the farmer was protesting that his animal was on the floor, and therefore not taking anyone else’s space. I can’t imagine the sheep would get anywhere near the inside of one of the smart new vehicles in operation today.

Beach clubs, always a key part of the Beirut social scene, are thriving, and several new ones have sprung up to compete with the Riviera, the Sporting and the Saint-George Yacht Club and Marina. The Saint-George is as swanky as it ever was, the only differences being that the floating gin palaces in its marina have doubled in size, and the backdrop now is less bullet-pocked hotels, more five-star gorgeousness. When I arrived, the Phoenicia was home to hundreds of refugees; it was lovingly restored to its former grandeur in 1999. Luxury hotels by Campbell Gray and the Four Seasons have recently opened, and there are two new marinas that will attract an ever-growing yacht set.

Over in Hamra, the heart of the Muslim west, the streets are buzzing. Shops selling all manner of bling are doing a roaring trade, and the American University of Beirut’s new intake of students are propping up the bars and fast-food joints just as their predecessors did. On the promontory of Ras Beirut, by the lighthouse, I see the Red House, one of the capital’s most remarkable old houses, has yet to be revamped. With paint peeling and wooden fascias drooping, it is a reminder of a bygone era. It can’t be long before a developer turns this prime plot into more luxury apartments; yet to my mind, none of the modern blocks is a patch on the character of this old place.

The renovation of Beirut’s central disctrict has given the city’s core a unique identity, and, gradually, upmarket investors are moving in. Vivienne Westwood opened last autumn, with Jimmy Choo and – it’s planned – Louis Vuitton following soon after, raising the bar in terms of high-end designer boutiques.

At times, it’s easy to forget that this country has a complex history, and trouble with its neighbours – most recently the Israeli incursion in 2006 – as well as internal conflicts, have had an impact. Yet with everyone from the Sunday Times to Condé Nast Traveller touting the capital as the city to visit this year, its fortunes are looking up.

In my experience, the Beirutis are a resilient lot, and – doubtless by necessity – they have short memories. The city just keeps bouncing back – and always with impeccable style.

WHERE TO STAY IN BEIRUT

Saint-George Yacht Club and Marina Ain Mreisseh, www.stgeorges-yachtclub.com
Phoenicia Minet al Hosn, www.phoenicia-ic.com
Le Gray Martyr’s Square, www.legray.com
Four Seasons 1418 Professor Wafic Sinno Avenue, www.fourseasons.com/beirut

PHOTOGRAPHY | JOHN CARTER

SPLASH! AFTER 14 YEARS OF NEAR UNBROKEN SHORE LEAVE I have found my way back on to a windsurfer. But the board-and-sail contraption that used to carry me easily across the sea has taken to pitching me in it instead.

I’m quaking a little as I approach the water, hoping that the wind, sails and water won’t prove quite so cruel as they have been of late. You see, I was once pretty good at this. In 1996, when I was 20, I spent a summer teaching windsurfing at an English holiday resort in northern Sardinia. What time I didn’t devote to teaching the guests, I patiently applied to my own skills. At the season’s end, I was as good as I was going to get at any sport, and I could cut about across the bay with all the agility of a fluoro-flecked porpoise. Well, that’s how it felt at the time.

Since then, I’ve tried to recapture those salad days, with lessening degrees of success. A decade back I rented a board in Morocco and managed to get it up to a pretty swift clip before somersaulting through its sail and wrecking a few thousand dirhams-worth of kit.

More recently, an afternoon flailing about in Fuerteventura’s shore break set me against the sport. I couldn’t even leave the beach and, after an hour or so messing about in the surf, I had to return to the hire shop, defeated.

My life on the ocean’s waves might have ended there, had I not come to the Tiree Wave Classic. This event, held on a small flat island in the Inner Hebrides, is a major fixture on the international windsurfing calendar and celebrates its 25th anniversary later this year. Relearning my watersports skills in the presence of some of the world’s best practitioners might not have been the wisest sporting decision that I’ve ever made. Yet Tiree remains an enviable spot for the pastime, whether you’re a highly skilled pro or a wary rank amateur.

The Wave Classic’s founder, Andy Groom, remembers the point in the sport’s development, back in 1985, when, thanks to technical innovation, windsurfing went “from being all about a fat bloke on a bit of plastic to a high-tech sport, much more like surfing.”

A straight-talking Englishman, Groom ran the Glasgow extreme sports shop Seventh Wave prior to the cup’s foundation. He first heard of Tiree’s winds from a friend who had been making a documentary about the island’s crofters. Groom took a surf safari to Tiree, which lies just beyond Mull, 20 miles from the Scottish mainland and he held the inaugural competition on the island’s virgin gales and waves. Catching the extreme sports wave well before it broke, Groom’s tournament has since become one of the world’s most revered, especially for riders who look for waves rather than speed.

“If this were Formula One,” says Northern Ireland’s Timo Mullen, one of the UK’s top five wave riders, “then this is Monaco. It’s the most prestigious wave competition in Europe. I’ve travelled all over the world and I still believe the best waves I ever get are in Scotland.”

While no one doubts the event’s appeal to elite wave sailors, long shadows have been cast over its financial viability. Though Groom and co are celebrating the Wave Classic’s quarter century, they haven’t had an unbroken run of competitions.

“The event actually stopped in the late 1990s,” explains Groom over a cup of tea in the island’s An Talla community centre, which serves as a kind of clubhouse during the tournament. “You need a lot of cash to put on something like this, and it just became harder and harder.”

Indeed, the Wave Classic’s fortunes mirror both the island and the sport’s fate. Tiree’s soil is fertile, the climate surprisingly warm, and the island thrived during the 1830s, with its population swelling to 4,500. Yet the Highland clearances and New World emigration diminished the isle’s population to just over 700 inhabitants today, with farming and tourism supporting the hardy lot who remain on this surprisingly flat, pastoral island, edged with silver-white sand.

Windsurfing’s rise and fall might not have so wide a historical sweep, yet it’s just as choppy. Duncan Coombs won the first Wave Classic and has returned over the years to judge later competitions. An early international champion, Coombs was ranked among the best in the world, and remembered a time when windsurfing attracted an ever-growing phalanx of sponsors, TV broadcasters and budding fans. These good fortunes changed, he believes, during the early ‘90s.

“It became a little too expensive,” he says. “There was a recession, and rather than flooding the market with affordable stuff, manufacturers decided to cut the amount of people doing it but put the price up.”

Other equally thrilling sports, such as snowboarding and surfing began to compete for the same market share; interest dropped off and participation declined. Though Britain is still a centre for windsurfing excellence, the sport remains a minority interest, which is a pity, as it has never been easier to pick up.

At the island’s Wild Diamond windsurfing school I’m surprised by how much the kit has improved. Boards, once as long and thin as those used in surfing, are now shorter, with lots of buoyancy at the stern, giving unsteady sailors like me a less wobbly ride. The sails are almost solely constructed from monofilm, a lightweight but super-strong material.

Once, putting on wetsuit felt like cramming yourself into a damp catsuit sewn together from carpet underlay. A decade and a half on, these garments have got thinner, warmer and comfier. Rather than looking as though they add half a stone to your figure, the new suits even manage to be slightly flattering. Masts are also thinner, and booms (the wishbone-shaped piece that sailors hold on to) feel sturdier.

It takes me a while to recall how wind-dependent the sport is. My sailing slot has come up on a day of light breezes, meaning I crisscross the loch sedately; this feels like nautical tai chi. Indeed, it is only when I’m on the water that I truly recall how tranquil this can be.

It is all a bit Driving Miss Daisy in comparison with the competitors’ Days of Thunder. Timo Mullen wins the event, arcing above the six-foot waves that crash down on Tiree during the first few days of the Classic. Looping and leaping off their crests, he proves just how thrilling a sport windsurfing can be.

Looking back over photos from the winning day’s sail in a snug Hebridean pub, it’s hard to fathom why thrill seekers head out to the Canadian Rockies or the West Indies for overwhelming adrenalin adventures, when equally exhilarating kicks lie closer to home, and in as enviable a setting.

The 25th Tiree Wave Classic takes place this October; www.tireewaveclassic.com A one-day beginner’s course on Tiree costs £100 and includes equipment hire. www.tireewindsurfing.com

IT IS 130 YEARS SINCE THE NOBEL BROTHERS STARTED THEIR OIL COMPANY, Branobel, in Azerbaijan – a fairly obscure anniversary you might think. But that’s not how they see it in the oil capital of Baku where they are proud of the memory of their foreign oil aristocrats – the Nobels and the Rothschilds – who went there in the late 19th century to exploit the liquid energy that permeates the earth in this region.

You can literally smell oil in the air in Baku. In the old days its citizens would entertain themselves at night by going out into the harbour on boats and throwing matches to ignite the oil on the surface of the water. And,

of course, Baku is famous for its old Zoroastrian Fire Temple – dedicated to the ancient religion which originated from Persia – that was built around a flame which never went out because it was fed by a small oil well beneath. Apparently the oil has now dried up and the eternal fire is supplied by a pipeline.

Then, as now, the oil barons were integral to the state. While to the rest of the world the name Nobel is synonymous with the Peace Prize, to this nation in the Caucasus it stands for something different. In fact, such is the significance of the Nobels to Azerbaijan, that for this anniversary an exhibition about their

business in Baku has been put together from the state archive and other sources, and is currently travelling around the world.

“The Nobels’ innovations transformed what was a primitive industry into one of the world’s leading oil sources,” says Naida Abbasova, one of the organisers, “but only a few people outside our country are aware of it. That is the reason for doing the exhibition.” Hence, The Nobels and Baku Oil appeared at the European Commission in Brussels last month before travelling on to Stavanger, Norway; Stockholm, Sweden; and Houston, US. It will eventually be housed in the new Oil Museum that is planned for Baku.

Until recently I lived in Baku – my husband, a diplomat, was posted there – and I found myself intrigued by the Nobels. Their house still exists (well, sort of) and though their business doesn’t, one can’t fail to be impressed by their achievements. Apart from anything else, they built the world’s first oil tanker, called Zoroaster after the founder of the Zoroastrian faith; they had the first telephone in Baku; and they used to import tons of ice to cool their house in the summer (it was put into a tunnel that ran under the building).

The Nobels got into oil by chance. The story goes that Robert Nobel, engineer brother of prize-founder Alfred, was sent down to Baku from St Petersburg (where the family had migrated from Sweden in 1838) by his older brother Ludwig, to look for wood to make rifle butts. The Nobels’ factory made weapons for the Russian Army. Instead of wood, he found a city obsessed by oil – Ludwig Nobel later described Baku at that time as being like the Klondike in the gold rush – so he abandoned the original idea and persuaded his brothers to invest in oil. (Part of the money that Alfred Nobel’s estate would later put up for the Nobel Prize was from his investment in Baku oil.)

Ludwig came from Russia to organise the new business in Baku, and became known as the Oil King, running, as he did, the second largest oil company in the world at that time (after Standard Oil in America). Sadly this did not happen in time to save his father from going bankrupt in Russia and moving the family back to Sweden.

Unlike the Rothschilds, who built an extravagantly decorated palace that now serves as the National Art Gallery in Baku itself, the Nobels chose to build on nine hectares of land a couple of kilometres outside the town, near their own wells and storage tanks, and overlooking the Caspian Sea. This area became known as the Black City.

Their house, appropriately named Villa Petrolea, was quite modest compared to the baroque excesses of other oil barons, but it became a hub for Baku’s wealthy society. Near it they built a club (where on Wednesdays and Saturdays “the entire colony” went to dance and play billiards), as well as houses for their managers, a school, a clinic for the workers, a theatre (an orchestra was formed to play there) and a beautiful park. Ludwig was proud of what he had achieved for his employees. As he wrote at the time: “Now everyone enjoys gathering here, and they avoid the bad company that they were too easily led astray by before.”

The park was difficult to get going: earth had to be brought from the fertile area of Lenkaran in South Azerbaijan, and plants, thousands

of them, were imported from neighbouring countries as well as from France and Italy. In the mid-1880s Ludwig wrote to his daughter Anna in Sweden complaining of the lack of water to make his garden grow: “All we have accomplished are some flowerbeds and some kitchen herbs… next year I hope we can do better with water, and then, with God’s help, my dream of a green Villa Petrolea, a little paradise in Baku, will come true.”

It did, but not for long. In 1920 the Nobel house, the theatre, the staff houses, the club and the clinic were all burned to the ground by the Red Army when the Bolsheviks stormed into Baku. To the Communists, of course, the Nobels were class enemy number one. Their huge oil business was nationalised and the Nobels’ dream ended abruptly.

For the 70-odd years of Soviet rule, nothing happened to the sad relics of the Nobels’ life in Baku, apart from the construction of a rather tacky amusement centre, Luna Park, in the lower, shore end, of Ludwig Nobel’s huge park. Their buildings were left to ruin until 2004 when Togrul Bagirov, a successful Azerbaijani businessman and admirer of the Nobel family created the Baku Nobel Heritage Fund to rebuild the house and turn it into a museum, conference centre, upmarket club and hotel. In 2007 the project was completed and Michael and Gustav Nobel, great-grandsons of Ludwig, came to Baku to officially re-open Villa Petrolea.

Bagirov is still combing the global antiques market to find the furniture that vanished from the house before it burned. He has found several pieces in Russia: Ludwig’s great black desk, his silver samovar, some clocks and his champagne cooler. The Red Army might turn in its grave, but the Nobels’ story – “a glorious part of Azerbaijani oil history” – now seems safe forever.

Brigid Keenan is the author of Diplomatic Baggage: The Adventures of a Trailing Spouse. Villa Petrolea and the Baku Nobel Heritage Fund, 57/2 Nobel Avenue, inside Nizami Park, Baku. Entrance is free. Open daily, 11am to 7pm.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT THE ISLE OF MAN AND CYCLISTS? First Mark Cavendish, 24, establishes himself as the world’s leading sprint cyclist, with 10 stage victories at the 2008 and 2009 Tour de France. Now Peter Kennaugh, four years his junior, has emerged from the tiny island between Britain and Ireland, previously best known for its motorcycle racing. Some are tipping him to be an equally talented, if not better, all-round rider.

“Maybe because it’s such a small place everyone competes against each other – and that rubs off,” offers the 20-year-old. “Forget all this scientific crap such as heart-rate monitors. We just went out there on our bikes and did the miles. Growing up in that sort of environment was a big bonus.”

Cavendish, especially during his extraordinary exploits on the French roads, has never been short on confidence; neither, it would seem, is his occasional training partner. Hailing from a cycling background – his younger brother Tim is also a GB junior rider – Kennaugh was third in the amateur version of last year’s Giro d’Italia and then, in September, he came fourth at the UCI road world championships (under-23) in Mendrisio, Switzerland. All excellent preparation for the Commonwealth Games in Delhi in October and, of course, the London 2012 Olympics.

When it was announced in January that he was to be part of Team Sky, the new professional cycling squad and brainchild of British Olympic guru Dave Brailsford, Kennaugh took the responsibility in his stride. Considering that he could be competing alongside his hero Lance Armstrong at the 2010 Tour de France, this year promises to be memorable.

“It’s pretty awesome,” he says. “If I had to describe what it is like to be picked for this kind of team, I would say it’s like playing for Manchester United. It is one of the best pro teams in the world. But I feel like I belong.” www.peterkennaugh.com

Photography: © Martin Mai/ TC

AS SHE HERSELF IS SO OFTEN SAID TO DO, let us begin this story of Asma al-Assad by breaking a little presidential protocol.

Let us agree that there is more to her than her glamorous good looks. Can we put aside that tempting notion – gushing forth from nearly every article written by the Western press about her – that Asma, and her neighbouring first lady, Queen Rania of Jordan, are the convention-defying beauties representing a new generation of Arab women? As if, somehow, possession of high cheekbones, a brilliant white smile and the ability to wear jeans and drive a car are the leadership qualities appropriate to a woman.

And, anyway, being both a beautiful and accomplished woman from the Middle East is in no way unusual. Let us also put aside for a moment that Asma was once voted the world’s most elegant political woman by French Elle magazine, beating even the glossy glamour of France’s own première dame, Carla Sarkozy?

The time has come to take Syria’s First Lady at her word. “People in Europe or in the West do tend to focus more on what women look like rather than how effective they are or what they do, and that’s women in politics, in the business world, celebrities and fashion.”

We’re up in the clean-lined, Japanese-designed ‘People’s Palace’, a great white complex of marble and glass perched on the dusky-coloured mountain overlooking Damascus. It’s not quite the public arena its name suggests, used as it is by Asma’s husband, President Bashar al-Assad, to receive kings, princes, presidents and prime ministers.

However, it’s apparently rather too stuffy for the First Lady herself: “I don’t come here very often,” she says, smiling during the (rare) photo shoot. “It’s far too posh for me.” And so we sit and dispense with some of the other formalities that surround Mrs Assad. She was once Ms Asma Fawaz al-Akhras, the London-born daughter of a Syrian doctor, who had a private British education and went on to be a JP Morgan mergers and acquisitions specialist and to manage hedge funds for Deutsche Bank.

Not only did she gain a first-class degree in computer science and a diploma in French Literature but now, the multi-lingual mother of three, aged only 34, is the wife of a pivotal regional leader and an icon – albeit an accidental one – for women in the Middle East.

“I’m not very good with women’s questions, because I don’t see myself in that way,” she says. “The world from my perspective is very much orientated towards the partnership between men and women. The Middle East is still perceived to be a place where women walk around in black all day, and don’t drive their own cars or have the right to do anything. But the Middle East is not like this, and hasn’t been like this for a very long time. Not because of me, or my generation, but actually the generation before me, and the one before that.”

That may be true for the nations of the Levant, such as Syria, Lebanon and Jordan, but life for women in Saudi Arabia or Yemen is a very different story. Asma’s concern though is that women be appreciated for what they say and do, more than for how they look.

“Women in politics get a lot of criticism sometimes about how they dress and how they look. We need to shift the agenda back to what women are doing in these positions of authority. That’s why for me image becomes secondary.

Yes, it opens a lot of doors, but what’s more important is what you do in the position you’re in or with the authority that you have.”

And in Asma’s case, that authority has translated into reaching out to some of the poorest people in Syria. To do that, though, she first had to disappear. Just weeks after marrying President Al-Assad, Asma set off, deliberately incognito, to travel across the river valleys, coastal plains, scattered mountain settlements and empty deserts of her country to find out what makes life tick for the people living in Syria’s rural villages.

“Unless you can understand the situation of the environment that you’re trying to support, your change is not going to be as productive or successful as it should be,” she explains. “When you meet people from all walks of life and you have the opportunity to listen to their challenges and go into their homes and to see how they live, to hear some of their hopes and fears for the future, you are enriched as a person. Those two months are still reflective of how I go about my business on a day-to-day basis. I’m still someone who tries as much as possible to engage with people directly, by just being out and about.”

What she found out and about in Syria was that rural communities were still struggling with poverty despite decades of socialist rule, and that women were not playing their full role in the nation’s economy. Her response was to launch Syria’s first rural development organisation, the Fund for the Integrated Rural Development of Syria (FIRDOS) which provides around $2 million annually in micro-credit loans to rural communities as well as mobile educational facilities which reach far-flung corners of the country.

In 2003 she established MAWRED, an organisation to enhance the role of women in Syria’s economy. And not just women: Voyager contributor Hugh Mcleod, although neither a woman nor a Syrian, benefited from the space which MAWRED opened up when he edited Syria’s first English-language current affairs magazine, which in its infancy successfully navigated the maze of restrictive media laws guided, protected and given a large degree of political clout by having Asma’s seal of approval. Asma sees much of her development work as harnessing the potential of Syria’s young population, the majority of the country being under 25 years old.

“In Europe the population is generally ageing. In the Middle East it’s the complete opposite, we have a young population that is ready and willing and has an incredible amount of energy and potential to really make a difference. They are at the beginning of their lives and it is our responsibility to make sure that they have the necessary skills not just to survive but to thrive.”

Her other projects – such as Massar, an education centre in Lattakia, northern Syria – aim to equip young Syrians with the skills needed to succeed in business. Developing the critical capacity of the new generation is an important step toward economic development, particularly, believes Asma, in this age of information overload.

“We tend to take for granted too much of what is put in front of us. We live in an information world where we are constantly bombarded with information, every single second, 24 hours a day, which is exhausting. It becomes very difficult for us to filter through what is relevant.

“Typical education systems create a population that is able to read. Projects like Massar encourage a population that is able to distinguish what is worth reading, and that’s the kind of skill we need today, not just in Syria but around the world. It’s no longer about, ‘Can I read and write?’, it’s about, ‘How can I manoeuvre in this information world? How can I decipher what is valuable to me?’”

In a country where politics remains restricted to the rule of one party, Asma has a refreshing instinct for valuing the opinions of ordinary people. She drives herself around the bustling capital and can often be found in her local supermarket talking with other shoppers, gathering vital first-hand experience.

“When people drive, they reflect the mood of a nation and society, and you’re able to see that mood unedited, uncut. When you go into a supermarket and talk to other men and women buying food for their family, it gives you a real sense of what people are talking about on the street. That information for me is more valuable than anything else I have access to.”

This breaking down of barriers, getting to know the people on the other side of the divide, whether it be the palace gates of Damascus, the boundaries between the nations of the East and the West or the cultural assumptions and misunderstandings that too often characterise the relationship between different peoples, is a theme that recurs throughout the interview.

Asma sees technology as playing an important, but as yet unrealised, role in crossing boundaries and building bridges between East and West.

“In the 21st century we have so many methods of communication, whether it’s the internet, satellite TV, Twitter, blogs, YouTube… but unfortunately we know less about each other. Despite all the different types of communication there is still not enough understanding of different cultures. And this works both ways. It’s not just the West to the Middle East, but also the Middle East to the Far East or the Middle East to Europe or America.”

She dismisses a claim that Syria censors its own internet – though many websites of political or Islamic groups remain barred – saying the absence of social networking sites such as Facebook stem from a lack of network infrastructure, in part due to US sanctions, more than any political decision.

“We want people to be able to engage. The president was the one who encouraged the introduction of technology and the internet back in the 1990s. So we are a couple that understand the significance of having access to the wider world through technology. People in Syria can get every kind of satellite broadcast they want directly into their house, so I don’t think that you can censor people today.”

But as she points out, we could all do with looking at things a little more than skin deep. “The walls have come down and technology has allowed communication to happen. Yet we are still very much focused on our own comfort zones. There’s a difference between bringing down the walls and understanding the person on the other side.”

Girls and film
[ 4-12 March ]

ONLY SEVEN PER CENT OF FILM DIRECTORS ARE FEMALE. That is, at least by Birds Eye View’s reckoning. But this London film festival for female cinematic talent thinks the future is bright for lady filmmakers. Kathryn Bigelow is under consideration for Best Director at this month’s Oscars ceremony – if she wins, she’ll be the first to take home the accolade. Yet, while awards might be scarce, Birds Eye leaves viewers in no doubt as to the talents of those women who have managed to get behind the camera. The festival closes with a screening of Whip It, Drew Barrymore’s acclaimed directorial debut about the hard-knock ladies roller derby scene. Elsewhere you can catch Jessica Hausner’s Golden Lion-nominated film Lourdes, Kim Longinotto’s documentary Rough Aunties – Grand Jury Prize winner at the Sundance festival. You can also see a season of films starring iconic blondes (including Marilyn Monroe, pictured) as well as master classes, retrospectives, talks, shorts and workshops Birds Eye View is on at London’s BfiSouthbank and the Institute of Contemporary Arts. www.birds-eye-view.co.uk

12-17 MARCH
Go green in Dublin

Saint Patrick may or may not have banished the snakes from Ireland, yet he’s certainly blessed the Irish capital with a long weekend of festivities, including comedy, film, music and family events. It’s not only about drinking, you know. www.stpatricksfestival.ie

2-6 MARCH
Get teched up in Hanover

CeBIT is Europe’s leading business technology exposition. Its theme this year is Connected Worlds, which speaks to the growing trend for cloud computing. www.cebit.de

UNTIL 20 MARCH

Support Six Nations rugby

This year’s Six Nations rugby tournament comes to a climax this month, with games across the bmi network. Things come to a head on 20 March, when England – supported by bmi – play France in a bid to improve on last year’s second place finish.www.rbs6nations.com

26 MARCH – 18 APRIL

Dance in Vienna

Club culture meets art gallery in the Austrian capital this month, when the Sound:Frame festival returns. The event draws the most artful dance music producers to indulge in all sorts of audio-visual experimentation. So don’t go requesting the Bee Gees. www.soundframe.at

31 MARCH – 7 APRIL

Work it at Russian Fashion Week

Paris might be the home of haute couture, yet Moscow surely matches the French capital when it comes to high-net-worth clothes enthusiasts ready to buy the latest collections. Here, they get their first look at the Autumn/Winter offerings. www.russianfashionweek.com

UNTIL JUNE 2010

Witness the majesty of Don McCullin

Though he began taking pictures of London gangsters, McCullin is best known for his heart-rending photographs of war zones during the latter half of the 20th century. This retrospective at Manchester’s Imperial War Museum North, is one of McCullin’s largest, and proves that, when it came to 35mm and bullets, no one could match this British snapper. www.iwm.org.uk

BOOKING AHEAD

[ 4 April ]
HAVE A PHILHARMONIC EASTER
OsterKlang is the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra’s Easter concert series, which culminates in a peerless recital on Easter Sunday. A truly European, high art pleasure. www.theater-wien.at

[ 20-30 April ]
WATCH THE PINS FALL IN CAIRO
According to some archeologists, an early version of bowling was practiced in ancient Egypt. All the more reason to attend the Sinai International Bowling Tournament at Cairo’s International Bowling Centre, which draws players from across the region. www.abf-online.org

[ 25-26 May ]
CATCH ALICIA KEYS IN LONDON
New York is in the house. The Manhattan songstress, fresh from her Jay-Z collaboration, blesses London’s O2 arena for two nights. www.theo2.co.uk

[ 26-30 May ]
ADMIRE MUSCOVITE ARTISTRY
New Russian art and architecture are exhibited in Moscow’s appropriately entitled House of Artists, as well as work by artists from 11 other countries including Spain, Switzerland and the US. www.archmoscow.ru

[ 1-4 June ]
UNCOVER THE LATEST OIL INNOVATIONS IN BAKU
Energy powers Azerbaijan’s economy, which is why 175 exhibitors and 10,000 delegates make their way to the Caspian Oil and Gas Exhibition, now in its 17th year. www.caspianoilgas.co.uk

[ 19 June ]
PARTY IN BELFAST
Expect all manner of wacky dress and hard partying when the Belfast City Carnival takes to the streets of the Northern Irish capital this summer. www.belfastcarnival.com