WORDS JOHN O’CONNELL

KIND OF CRUEL by Sophie Hannah
The queen of domestic gothic is back with this tale of an insomniac who visits a hypnotherapist. During the session she answers a question with the words: ‘Kind. Cruel. Kind of cruel.’ Two hours later she is arrested and charged with the murder of a woman she has never heard of. Hannah’s plotting can be too serpentine for its own good, but she’s excellent at creating unsettling psychological environments.
Hodder & Stoughton, £12.99

THE TRAIN IN THE NIGHT by Nick Coleman
Music was central to rock critic Coleman’s life but that all changed when one day he experienced sudden neurosensory hearing loss and was left unable to enjoy his greatest passion. This deeply affecting memoir chronicles Coleman’s attempts to assuage his grief and even regain the ability to enjoy music using techniques developed by the neurologist Oliver Sacks: summoning memories of every key piece of music he’d ever heard until his brain was able to ‘hear’ it differently.
Jonathan Cape, £16.99

THE GOLDEN SCALES by Parker Bilal
When the deeply dodgy owner of Cairo’s biggest football team hires former police inspector Makana to track down his most valuable player, who has gone missing, Makana wants to refuse – he has issues enough of this own. But he is intrigued, so he suppresses his moral qualms. After all, why would such a powerful man, a man who can afford the very best, want to hire him? Parker Bilal is the pseudonym of Barcelona-based literary novelist Jamal Mahjoub and The Golden Scales the first in a projected series.
Bloomsbury, £11.99

DISTRUST THAT PARTICULAR FLAVOR by William Gibson
He’s best known as the author of Neuromancer, but Gibson has been training a critical eye on contemporary culture for more than 30 years now in magazines like Wired and Rolling Stone.

The first-ever collection of his non-fiction writings, Distrust… underlines Gibson’s unexpected diversity as he tackles subjects from the early deaths of his parents and his move to Canada to avoid the draft to the problems of the internet and the way that music is used in films.
Viking, £12.99

YOU ARE AWFUL (BUT I LIKE YOU): TRAVELS THROUGH UNLOVED BRITAIN by Tim Moore
In which our most reliably brilliant humorist seeks out the very worst that ‘deep-fried, brownfield, pound-shop Britain’ has to offer – bleak old-man pubs, rubbish zoos, new towns designed by planners wearing blindfolds – and finds, to his surprise, that much of it triggers an inexplicable nostalgic yearning. Perhaps it’s something to do with the fact that Moore is conducting his quest in an Austin Maestro, while listening to the 358 worst songs in the history of British pop.
Jonathan Cape, £11.99

[ EDINBURGH ]

[ FOR LITERARY LOVERS ]
The Witchery by the Castle
Tucked away in a 16th-century merchant’s house by the gates of Edinburgh Castle, the Witchery is a vision of Gothic excess. There are eight palatial suites, each more decadent than the last: think sumptuous, tapestry-draped four posters, oak-panelled walls and acres of brocade, marble and gilding. Bibliophiles will relish the Library suite, with a secret door leading to a book-lined bathroom, though the hotel’s first suite, the Inner Sanctum, is still one of the best, with its spiral staircase, red and gold bedroom and fire-lit study. Suites from £296.

Castlehill, The Royal Mile; 0131 225 5613; www.thewitchery.com

[ FOR FASHION LOVERS ]
HOTEL MISSONI
Behind a handsome curving sandstone façade (and doormen clad in Missoni kilts), this 136-room hotel combines sleek monochrome design with the label’s signature geometric patterns and bold use of colour. Coffee machines and iPod decks come as standard in the rooms, along with free WiFi, on-demand movies and a complimentary minibar (think soft drinks rather than single malts). Staff are discreetly attentive, and the location is spot-on: just off the Royal Mile, with views across the city to Arthur’s Seat. Doubles from £180.

1 George IV Bridge; 0131 220 6666; www.hotelmissoni.com

[ FOR MUSIC LOVERS ]
One Royal Circus
Addresses don’t get much grander than this: the first house on Royal Circus, a stately crescent of Georgian townhouses in the centre of Edinburgh’s New Town. Its owners describe this place as a five-room B&B, but it feels more like an exclusive boutique hotel. Bedrooms are airy and elegant, with high ceilings, contemporary bathrooms and enormous beds, kitted out in snowy Frette linen. Along with a games and sitting room, there’s a magnificent salon with a baby grand piano (song sheets provided): just the thing for a serenade on Valentine’s Day. Doubles from £158.

One Royal Circus; 0131 625 6669; www.oneroyalcircus.com

[ FOR FOOD LOVERS ]
21212
There are just four suites at this acclaimed restaurant with rooms – spacious, elegantly understated affairs, set over the two upper floors of the Georgian premises. Perhaps the nicest is room 1:2, whose freestanding bath has a fine view over the gardens. Along with the usual contemporary flourishes (free WiFi, iPod docks), bedrooms are equipped with a decanter of sloe gin. The chef and proprietor here is the Michelin-starred Paul Kitchin, so book ahead for a table in the restaurant. Suites from £195.

3 Royal Terrace; 0131 523 1030; www.21212restaurant.co.uk

[ CASABLANCA ]

IN THE SUMMER OF 1938 an American, Murray Burnett, and his wife travelled to German-occupied Vienna to help Jewish relatives get out. Later, the couple visited the south of France, where they went to a nightclub overlooking the Mediterranean and saw a black pianist playing jazz for a crowd of locals and refugees.

Back in the US, Burnett’s experiences in Europe inspired him to write a play about a cynical bar owner in Casablanca, Morocco, named Rick.

A reader at Warner Brothers assessed the script: ‘Excellent melodrama. Colourful, timely background, tense mood, suspense, psychological and physical conflict, tight plotting, sophisticated hokum. A box-office natural – for Bogart, or Cagney, or Raft in out-of-the-usual roles and perhaps Mary Astor.’ Cagney, Raft and Astor missed out, but Bogart was in, along with Ingrid Bergman, right. The film Casablanca came out in 1942; it celebrates its 70th birthday this year.

[ KITCHEN LIT ]

FIRST PUBLISHED IN ITALY IN 1950, Il cucchiaio d’argento is regarded as one of the most popular Italian cookbooks of all time. A team of chefs was commissioned to collect traditional recipes from the various Italian regions, which were tested and reworked before being supplemented with modern recipes from some of the then most famous Italian chefs. A best-seller and an instant classic, the book is still considered an essential in every Italian household. ‘Throughout the years, I have seen chefs in many different kitchens refer to all types of cookery books. But Il cucchiaio d’argento is the only book that made it to my mum’s kitchen,’ said Giorgio Locatelli. ‘Most Italians consider this book their Bible on home cookery.’

Amazing, then, that it took more than half a century before the work was translated into English and published, in 2005, as The Silver Spoon. This was updated and reissued again last year by UK publishing house Phaidon, which is also bringing out a series of titles inspired by the original.

This month, it’s Fish. It’s not the prettiest of cookery books but it’s certainly timely. If recent campaigns by Jamie and Hugh have left a void on your plate where the cod used to be, then this book has around 200 recipes to fill it. It’s also supremely practical, with chapters devoted to round white fish, flat white fish, oily fish, freshwater fish and seafood. You might not really need to be told how to make tuna pasta (with tuna out of a tin), but have you ever considered eel with peas and carrots, above? And do you know the best way to skin your anguilla? We didn’t either.

Fish (Phaidon, £29.95)

IF YOU DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW what a pisco sour or ceviche is, you will soon. Peruvian food is set to be big news in the UK. Yes, this is the place where they eat guinea pigs (cuy, or guinea pig provides more than 50 percent of Peru’s animal protein), but there is a whole lot more to the cuisine than roasting rodents.

Thanks to the South American country’s hugely varied geography and climate, and the confluence of immigrants from around the globe, Peru’s food has influences from Spain, China, Italy, West Africa and Japan, mixed with indigenous Andean traditions. So you get dishes such as the aforementioned ceviche (raw fish marinated in citrus juice) and lomo saltado (soy-marinated stir-fried steak), which smack of Asia, alongside things like causa, which are potato cakes – Peru being the birthplace of potatoes and boasting some 2,500 varieties.

Over in the US they’re already hip to the culinary offerings of the Andean nation. One of the hottest tables in New York since opening late last year is Gastón Acurio’s La Mar Cebicheria Peruana. Acurio is the Gordon Ramsay of Peru, the highest profile chef in South America, with multiple hit TV cooking shows and 29 restaurants in 12 countries. As well as New York, he has an outpost in San Francisco, with another planned for LA, where it will join fellow Peruvian Ricardo Zarate’s massively popular Picca, where skewered, marinated beef hearts are the speciality. Given that much of the rest of the Western world takes its lead from the US when it comes to food trends (think cupcakes, pimped-up street food and gourmet burger crazes), it’s a fair assumption to say we’re all going to be hearing a lot more about Peruvian eats in the near future.

It’s already starting in the UK with two much-talked-about openings in London coming this spring. Ceviche is the passion project of half-Peruvian former iTunes and Walt Disney exec Martin Morales. Morales launched iTunes in Europe and – feel free to hate him for this – made Miley Cyrus famous in Britain. He’s hoping to do the same for Peruvian food at his Soho restaurant, set to open next month.

Lima is the first British restaurant from Virgilio Martinez – Gastón Acurio alumnus and Peruvian poster boy whose restaurant Central in the Peruvian capital is lauded for its traditional-meets-modern food. His London venture will parallel the culinary offerings at Central.

As most significant food trends tend to lay down roots in London and spread from there, expect to see a Peruvian restaurant opening its doors in your town in the not-too-distant future. Rosie Birkett

WORDS ELIZABETH WINDING
PORTRAITS ANDREW McCONNELL

IT‘S SATURDAY AFTERNOON AT TAWLET and brunch is being served. It’s a help-yourself spread, and the counter in front of the open kitchen is loaded with dish after dish of food: tabouleh fragrant with mint and parsley; kibbeh nayeh, the Lebanese speciality of spiced, finely ground raw meat; nutty-tasting freekah (roasted green wheat); and plump makenek (sausages), laced with pomegranate molasses.

In a city with a taste for conspicuous consumption, this place stands out by virtue of its simplicity. Carafes of water stand on plain wooden tables, flowers are simple and seasonal, and the battered chairs have a flea-market feel. ‘It is unusual for Beirut,’ agrees Kamal Mouzawak, the man behind Tawlet. ‘No big name chefs, no brands and in a shabby neighbourhood.’

Tawlet was born out of a larger project that began in 2004 with the launch of Lebanon’s first farmers’ market, the Souk al-Tayeb. Gradually, its remit expanded to take in regional food festivals, cookery and wine appreciation classes, and talks in schools. Its aim is to support small-scale farmers and producers, and to preserve Lebanon’s agricultural and culinary heritage.

More than that, says Mouzawak, the idea is to bring a divided people together. ‘It’s about finding a common ground for people who were fighting for such a long time, because of their differences. What can bring them together more than the land and food?’

Opened in 2009, Tawlet is testament to this belief. Every day, a different chef takes charge of the kitchen – usually women, from towns and villages across the country, who cook up a succession of dishes from their region. Some 40 to 50 women are involved, mainly recruited through the farmers’ market and regional festivals. Few have any professional experience as chefs, and they come from all kinds of backgrounds and faiths. All that matters in Tawlet’s kitchen is a flair for cookery and willingness to get involved.

Chalked up on the blackboard, the daily-changing menu is a reminder of the country’s rich mix of cultures and traditions. ‘In Lebanon, every region has its own style of cooking,’ explains Rima Khoder, who has been cooking here for a year. ‘More than that, so does every concession: Christian, Jewish, Muslim. I’m half Turkish, half Lebanese, and my husband is Greek and Lebanese – so that adds even more richness to my cooking.’

At the next table, the first customers of the day have arrived; a young couple, with their son. ‘Look!’ says Mouzawak, gesturing towards them. ‘What these people are eating is our history, our traditions. This isn’t a museum-like project where we write recipes down in a book to preserve them. We’re using them, keeping them alive. It’s not about making dollars for the bank, it’s about making responsible choices in life, and making a change to society.’

MAYSOON NASREDDINN, FROM KFARKATRA

I used to be an architect, but became very interested in healthy eating and organic food after studying macrobiotic cuisine. Now, my husband and I run a vegetarian and vegan food company called Coara, based in a small village in the Chouf mountains. Our ingredients come from local farmers, and we make everything from scratch, including tofu. We run a stall at the Souk al-Tayeb in Beirut, and I also cook vegan dishes at Tawlet. Some are specialities from the village, like sheesh barak [wheat dumplings cooked in yoghurt] filled with chickpeas instead of meat, but I also create my own dishes, adapting traditional recipes and using ingredients like seaweed and quinoa. The best thing about cooking at Tawlet is the people, and how much pleasure it brings me when they enjoy my food.

SAYDEH HANNA RIZKALLAH, FROM AYTOULEH

I began cooking when I was seven years old – I think my first dish was loubieh b’zeit, which is a simple green bean stew – and baking when I was 12. I met Souk al-Tayeb’s team when I took part in a food and feast market held in Brumana, which is where I live now – I’m originally from Aytouleh, a small place in the southern mountains. When I come to Tawlet I often make kibbet laateen, which is a local speciality [bulgar wheat with pumpkin purée]. My favourite dish to prepare is moudarra bil burghol, which is lentils with bulgar, and I love eating raabeh [stuffed lamb's neck]. The first time I cooked at Tawlet, it was something totally new for me.

I was afraid that no one would like my food, and I was very clumsy.

The second time, though, I felt as if I was coming home. Now, when I leave, I’m already thinking about the next time I’ll come back and looking forward to it.

FADIA CHAPTINI, FROM TRIPOLI

I came back to Lebanon two years ago, after being out of the country for 10 years, and met Kamal last September. He suggested I came to cook at Tawlet – and my cooking passed the test. I have two specialities: kibbeh with butter and jalapeño peppers and lahm bil ajĩn [buttery, home-made dough, stuffed with minced meat, pine nuts and pomegranate molasses]. I also make a vegetarian version with swiss chard and other vegetables. I’ve always worked in business, not food, although I’d cooked a lot for friends: I’m married with two children and my husband is very social, so my door is always open and my house full of people. Coming here was nerve-wracking, as Tawlet has very high standards. Also, the people who cook usually have farms, so I felt a little out of place.

In time, though, I got the balls – excuse my language – to experiment more, and now I’m very comfortable in the kitchen.

RIMA KHODER, FROM BEIRUT

I was a banker for 23 years, and had never cooked in my life; I’d always had someone cooking for me at home. Then, three years ago, I left my job to become my son’s manager – he’s an opera singer – and found I had more time on my hands. So I went into the kitchen and started making the plat du jour for the house. Simple things at first, then more complicated dishes. Every Lebanese family has its own recipes, so I learnt the secrets from my mother, otherwise they would have been lost. I follow her recipes to the letter: when you change something even slightly, the whole taste will change. At Tawlet I make traditional dishes like makloubet badenjan [upside down rice with eggplant, meat and spices] or daoud basha [spicy meatballs with pomegranate, mint, garlic and onion]. At home, though, I love cooking international dishes like ossobuco or turkey. Everyone comes to my house to eat my famous turkey with gravy.

This design is based on the drop bags issued to paratroopers in the Second World War. In heavy-duty waterproof canvas with a chic leather trim, it’s handsome as well as practical.
Sten Drop Bag holdall, £199, Chapman; www.chapmanbags.com

Made from soft, pliable leather with a cherry-red or green lining, this capacious bag is a modern classic in the making.
Zermatt Weekender, £350, Mimi; www.mimiberry.co.uk

Ally Capellino’s bags are always elegantly understated, and this one is no exception. Made from waxed cotton canvas, it’s lightweight but sturdy.
Freddie bag, £319, Ally Capellino; www.allycapellino.co.uk

Just the thing for dapper gents, this comes in hard-wearing Herdwyck wool tweed, with a discreet saddle leather trim and brass stud feet.
Squires medium holdall, £645, Cherchbi; www.cherchbi.com

PHOTOGRAPHY JOHN ROSS

WORDS DOMINIC EARLE

MANY SKIERS WILL ONLY MAKE IT as far as the mountains of France this winter, and the reasons are clear – cheap apartments, high-altitude skiing and huge areas are a tempting combination, and mega ski circuses such as Espace Killy, Paradiski and Les Trois Vallées rule the market. But while these giants give an unrivalled on-piste experience, the resorts themselves are a triumph of function over form, and the closest you’ll probably come to a cultural experience will be ordering a beer in French.

If size matters above all else, you can stop reading now. But if you fancy catching a glimpse of a time when adventure was more important than average hourly uplift, then a few days on and off the slopes in Morocco, Lebanon, Georgia or Iran could be just the answer. The pace may be a little slow and the pistes a little bumpy, but you’ll forgive all when you catch sight of the sparkling Mediterranean from the top of a Lebanese chairlift, or hitch a donkey ride to the base of the lifts in Morocco. Sadly, though, even in these far-flung corners of the snow globe, investors have their eyes set on a slice of the mountain market, so head up the hill before the developers do.

[ MOROCCO ]
FROM SOUKS TO SLOPES

Africa may be no match for the Alps when it comes to skiing, but head up into Morocco’s towering Atlas Mountains and you’ll discover the closest thing this vast continent has to a ski destination. Originally a Berber settlement, Oukaïmeden (pronounced you-kye-me-den) is Africa’s highest ski resort and perches just an hour’s drive south from Marrakech. So if you’d prefer a day on the slopes to a day in the souks, then hail a taxi and head for the hills. Remember, though, that this is Morocco, not Megève – there’s only one chairlift in the resort, plus a handful of ancient drag lifts to get you up the mountainside. The snow record is rather more impressive, and with a top height of more than 3,000m it’s a lot cooler than down in the kasbah.

Five pistes plunge down from the shapely summit of Jebel Attar, but don’t schuss off without stopping a moment to catch your breath and take in the slightly absurd panorama of snowy peaks backgrounded by dry, dusty, heat-baked plains trailing off into the distance.

There are 20 runs in all, although finding them is an adventure in itself. Don’t expect any neat, branded piste maps here; instead there’s a faded map at the bottom of the slope and a surfeit of locals happy to guide you down for a mittenful of dirhams.

The longest run from the top of the chair is a respectable three kilometres, and the ungroomed nature of the place means that it’ll probably feel like twice that by the time you’ve made it back down to the valley floor. The main runs are Grande Combe (a steep mogul field) and Mouflons (dotted with huge boulders). Alternatively, if snowplough is more your style, join the middle-class Marrakech families queueing on the gentle beginners’ slopes. Après-ski options are limited at best, which means you can be safely tucked up in your boutique Marrakech riad with a sweet mint tea by nightfall, with all thoughts of snow, ice and sore thighs a distant mountain memory.

Inevitably, big things are planned for Oukaïmeden, with a billion-dollar ski and golf development set for completion in the next few years, but for now it remains the perfect place for a Moroccan day trip with a difference.

[ LEBANON ]
THE APRÈS-SKI OPTION

The giant indoor Ski Dubai resort, pumping out ‘snow’ in the searing heat of the Gulf, may have caused a stir when it opened a few years back but the real ski capital of the Middle East remains Lebanon. It boasts no less than six resorts within tripping distance of Beirut.

The skiing is remarkably well developed and attracts well-heeled Beirutis for a weekend of schussing and socialising high above the beautiful fertile Bekaa Valley.

The biggest resort is Mzaar. Founded by a few hardy locals and a band of French expats back in the 50s, it’s a sizeable operation, with 40 runs and 18 lifts.

The skiable range of the resort’s three peaks begins at 1,850m and tops out at 2,465m on the Dôme du Mzaar. The treeless slopes and distant views of the Med may not feel very alpine, but the skiing certainly is, with more than 80km of piste to play around on. Après-ski is taken almost as seriously as the on-slope action, with the great and good enjoying another of Lebanon’s excellent sidelines – the excellent red wines from the Bekaa Valley below. The slopes are hardly crowded at the worst of times, but come Monday, when the weekenders have sloped off back to the capital, the place is pretty much deserted.

Lebanon’s other two major resorts, Laqlouq and the Cedars, are more low-key affairs. Laqlouq is an unspoilt, family-friendly spot, while further north lies the Cedars, Lebanon’s northernmost resort and also its loftiest, with lifts stretching up to nearly 3,000m on the flanks of the country’s highest mountain, Qurnat as-Sawda. It’s said that you can see Cyprus from the summit on a clear day, but there’s no need to travel that far for a decent beach. Come springtime, Lebanon’s limited size means that skiers can have twice the fun, with a morning spent working on their stem Christies and an afternoon spent working on the suntan and soothing aching thighs in the shallows of the Med. Talk continues of developing a new billion-dollar super-resort called Sannine Zenith, but for now Lebanon’s skiing is about as laid-back as you could wish for.

[ GEORGIA ]
OLYMPIC AMBITIONS

Georgia may not be first on your mind when it comes to winter sports, but this former Soviet republic is made for mountain action – it has the mighty Caucasus running along its northern border and a ski fanatic for a president. Despite being blessed with an avalanche of ski potential, facilities have been limited to a pair of Soviet-era resorts, Bakuriani and Gudauri.

Bakuriani, in the Trialeti Mountains just a couple of hours by road from Tbilisi, is the country’s oldest resort. A handful of lifts serve 12 pistes that run down through the spruce forests from the top of 2,200m Mount Kohta. Modest it may be, but Bakuriani was nominated as a candidate for the 2018 Winter Olympics. Further north, in the southern Caucasus, Gudauri is a different proposition with a fearsome freeride reputation. There are a few lifts reaching up to more than 3,000m, but the USP here is heliskiing, a high-altitude fix frowned upon elsewhere and banned completely in France.

President Saakashvili, who apparently once held a cabinet meeting in his ski salopettes, is desperate to transform the country into a global ski destination, and the big news for 2012 is the hugely ambitious project taking place in Mestia, a stunning Unesco World Heritage site tucked away in the far-flung reaches of north-west Georgia. The town lies an often impassable 10-hour drive from Tbilisi, so in 2010 the president ordered an airport to be built – and, hey presto, this medieval mountain retreat in the middle of nowhere had a modern terminal designed and constructed within three months, servicing subsidised flights from the capital. And who should be there on Christmas Eve 2010 to open it? The president himself, of course.

Mestia’s winter wonderland is still very much in its infancy at the moment, but President Saakashvili’s grand project is no half-pipe dream. Blink and you could be in danger of missing the party.

[ IRAN ]
THE POWDERY SOFT REPUBLIC

Cultural experiences don’t come much richer or more rewarding than a week spent skiing in Iran. The capital, Tehran, lies in the formidable shadow of the permanently snow-capped and skier-friendly Alborz Mountains, and the country’s flagship resorts – the lower-altitude Shemshak and the larger, more developed Dizin – are a snowball’s throw from the capital itself. It’s perfectly possible to alternate mornings on powdery, soft pistes with afternoons wandering around some of Tehran’s stunning museums or exploring the maze of passageways in the ancient bazaar downtown.

To reach Dizin, you have to drive through Shemshak, where the runs are more challenging if universally shorter and less varied, and where the village itself is in a seemingly perpetual state of construction. Head another few kilometres up the road and you’ll reach the closest thing Iran has to a mega resort. The skiing is limited to one main treeless bowl, but with a village height of 2,500m and a vertiginous top height of 3,600m – head and shoulders above Alpine giants Tignes and Val d’Isère – there’s plenty of vertical to compensate for the lack of horizontal. Unlike the Alps’ finest, though, don’t arrive expecting heated chairlifts, revolving glass-bottomed restaurants or immaculately groomed slopes.

The resort of Dizin was originally built on the orders of the Shah, himself a fanatical skier – his original mountain seat and helicopter pad can both be spotted gathering dust on a rocky shelf high above the slopes – but development all but ceased after the Islamic revolution that unseated him in 1979. However, the future looks white – grand plans are afoot to put Dizin on the global skiing map, with talk of new gondolas, chairlifts and even a hands-free lift-pass system.

For now, though, the real treat of an Iranian ski adventure is the chance to carve some turns in one of the cradles of civilisation. Which is something you certainly can’t say about a week’s package holiday in Flaine.

[ NICE ]
Burn baby, burn

LAST MONTH, EN ROUTE THROUGH RIQUIER, Nice’s portside neighbourhood, I took a shortcut along the nondescript rue Richelmi. Edging past a group of artisans basking in the winter sunlight, I glanced over a paint-spattered shoulder and stopped dead in my tracks. In the warehouse space behind was a three metre-high dragon’s head – jaws open and tongue lolling – nudged up against a Land Rover-sized fairy princess. I was staring straight into Nice’s top-secret Maison du Carnaval.

Nice’s legendary Carnaval spans the weeks preceding the start of Lent, with festivities usually kicking off in mid February. For 15 days and nights, parades light up France’s fifth biggest city. Each season’s displays of floats and dancers jive to a specific theme, embodied in the figurehead of an 18m-high papier-mâché caricature. This year the festivities will be led by the Roi du Sport, or King of Sport. The revelry peaks in early March with a pyromaniac’s dream: as the Carnaval comes to a close, the combustible king is dragged out to sea and burned.

Over a million visitors flood to the French Riviera during these weeks, competing for the tickets that will allow them ringside seats. But it is possible to see the carnival without a ticket. In 2003, a set of steps by the Beau Rivage Hotel gifted me a complimentary view of the famous Bataille de Fleurs, or Battle of the Flowers. Henri Matisse, who lived in the Beau Rivage in the early 1920s, painted carnival-goers pelting one another with baskets of local flowers as the winter sun dipped into the sea. Today the battle is a tamer affair: millions of lilies cover the parade floats as performers, clad in flowers themselves, toss posies into the jubilant crowds.

Three years later, at the Hotel Palais de la Méditerranée’s panoramic bar, a glass of rosé in hand, I watched the papier-mâché figures, some on stilts, others on trucks, process along the seafront for a full hour.

Last year I finally shelled out, keen to see what sort of access to the wild debauchery a paid ticket to the Carnaval would afford me. I joined the crowds on the Promenade des Anglais to get right up close as the 3,000-strong theatrical display paraded past, performers launching bouquets of mimosas from a vacuum-powered supergun.

It was electrifying. Now I want to get even closer. I’ve heard already they’re looking for participants for the Carnaval de Nice 2013: since last month, I know just where to go to apply. Kathryn Tomasetti Nice’s 2012 Carnaval runs from 17 Feb-4 Mar; www.nicecarnaval.com

[ AMRITSAR ]
Pedals to pods

TWO HUNDRED SLEEK, LITTLE AUTOMATED ELECTRIC PODS silently glide along tracks high above street level, cleanly and efficiently shuttling some 100,000 passengers per day between a chain of modern elevated stations. It is an appealing vision of the transport of the future, and if we told you that it is close to being implemented in a major Asian city, your first thoughts would probably be Tokyo, Seoul or Shanghai. In fact, it’s happening in Amritsar, capital of the Indian Punjab.

Like many Indian metropolises, Amritsar suffers from appalling rush-hour traffic, frequently made worse by up to 500,000 Sikh pilgrims, who pour in on major holidays to visit the Golden Temple. The pollution caused by exhaust fumes has led the city to ban all non-essential vehicles from the vicinity of the holy shrine and pilgrims must make their way on foot or by pedal rickshaw. One of the aims of the new transport system is to connect the temple complex to the city’s bus and train stations, as well as to the city centre.

‘The pod Personal Rapid Transport system is an idea whose time has well and truly come,’ says Fraser Brown, managing director of Ultra, the British company behind the technology to be employed in Amritsar. Ultra has already successfully installed a similar, though smaller-scaled system much closer to home. The first PRT system has been in operation at Heathrow since April of last year, where it connects Terminal 5 with the business-class car parks over at the end of the northern runway.

‘Using British technology and know-how, we’ve proved it works at Heathrow and now we’re creating bigger systems, on larger routes, with more stations and pods,’ says Brown.

So how does it work? Simple. Enter one of the pods, take a seat and choose a destination on a computer screen; press ‘Go’ and you’re off. The automated system does the rest: the pods use lasers to literally keep on the right track.

‘The scale and size of the Amritsar project, coupled with its urban location, shows that a PRT system really can be installed anywhere and can move large numbers of passengers around without delay. And it can do this without adding to pollution or further road gridlock,’ says Brown.

Ultra believes it can have the Amritsar PRT system up and running in just two years, with construction due to start later this year. The company – which is based in Bristol – is so confident that pods are the way forward that it reckons it can have a whopping 600 of these futuristic urban transport systems operating in cities all over the world by 2020. But Amritsar will always be famous for having opened the first full city system anywhere in the world. Chris Beanland

[ JEDDAH ]
Artistic currents

THE SAUDI ARABIAN CITY OF JEDDAH has a long association with contemporary art. You don’t have to visit a gallery to see this. Just drive along the seafront Corniche, which is punctuated by a series of massive sculptures, including, most strikingly, Spanish artist Julio Lafuente’s The Accident, which has five brightly coloured cars embedded in a giant concrete cube in the middle of a roundabout.

This month Jeddah plays host to the country’s most high-profile exhibition of homegrown contemporary art to date. Again, you don’t have to visit a gallery to see it: this show takes place in a shopping mall. ‘We had to look for a location that people already go to, then catch them there,’ explains Stephen Stapleton, the founder of Edge of Arabia. ‘Saudis love malls; they understand them. And,’ he adds, ‘we don’t really have any museums here.’

The exhibition, which brings 20 of Saudi’s most influential artists together for the first time in their native country, is being held at Al-Furusia Marina in an unfinished seafront mall. ‘A few shops have opened but it’s basically a big warehouse,’ says Stapleton. ‘It’s a beautiful space to show art.’

Edge of Arabia has already received critical acclaim at the Venice Biennale, and been shown in London and Berlin. Many of the pieces have yet to be exhibited in Saudi Arabia, including a new work by sisters Shadia and Raja Alem, who last year became the first Saudi women to represent their country at the Venice Biennale, and a project by Sami al-Turki, who gave disposable cameras to migrant workers so wealthy art patrons might see the Gulf through their eyes.

For Stapleton, the highlight is a piece by Ahmed Angawi, a designer-turned-artist from Mecca. For his ‘Street Pulse’ installation, he has fixed microphones around Jeddah and connected them to speakers in the gallery. ‘He’s trying to convey the idea that galleries should represent real life,’ says Stapleton.

‘There are a lot of people interested in art,’ says Stapleton. ‘It’s just a matter of reaching them.’ Sakhr Al-Makhadhi

[ LONDON ]
All the world’s a stage

On hearing about the Globe Theatre’s plan to stage Shakespeare’s 37 plays in 37 languages by 37 international theatre companies, from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe, the first question is surely: ‘Didn’t everybody fight over Hamlet?’

‘Not at all,’ insists Tom Bird, director of the Globe to Globe project. ‘There’s no international hierarchy of Shakespeare plays, so although we revere Hamlet, other cultures might prefer Richard II or Romeo and Juliet.’

When programming the festival, Bird instead identified plays that had already been performed around the world, then invited the companies to the Globe. Other plays were translated for the first time, most notably Cymbeline into Juba Arabic for a company from South Sudan.

The festival features a number of groups from bmi destinations, among them Yerevan in Armenia and Tbilisi in Georgia. ‘We’re really pleased to have an Armenian company doing King John,’ says Bird. ‘We don’t think it has been performed at the Globe since Shakespeare’s time. We also have a Georgian company doing As You Like It. Shakespeare is huge in the Caucasus, almost like a religion.You often meet people named after Shakespeare characters.’

Other highlights include a British sign-language version of Love’s Labour Lost, the three parts of Henry VI as a Balkan tragedy by companies from Serbia, Albania and Macedonia, and a Maori Troilus and Cressida, complete with haka. And who got Hamlet? Lithuania, whose adaptation by director Eimuntas Nekrosius is acclaimed as one of the greatest of modern times. Peter Watts Globe To Globe will run from 21 April-9 June; www.globetoglobe.shakespearesglobe.com

UNBEKNOWN TO MOST of the people who walk its streets, a whole other world lies beneath Manchester: a vast, subterranean collection of abandoned tunnels, canals and caverns. Over the years, they have been used as air-raid shelters, temporary homes and even public toilets, and still serve as a fascinating window into the city’s past – if you know where to look.

MANCHESTER AND SALFORD JUNCTION CANAL

Built in 1839 to link the River Irwell and Rochdale Canal, this canal is Manchester’s forgotten waterway. Nearly a mile long, it consists of four docks and a tunnel below what is now the Deansgate area.

It was closed in 1922 but reopened during World War II, when it served as an air-raid shelter. Reminders of the war not only include the blast walls, but a chemical toilet and a lone watchman’s hut. The canal can be visited as part of regular organised tours; for more information, tour dates and times see manchesterconfidential.co.uk and newmanchesterwalks.com.

VICTORIA ARCHES

The arches were built into the Irwell Embankment in the 1830s as part of a road-widening scheme (they’re under what is now Victoria Street, opposite Manchester Cathedral). They were once home to small businesses, including wine merchants, silk dyers and cabinet makers, and during the Second World War were used as air-raid shelters. If anyone seeking sanctuary from the bombs thought that it was all a bit of a lark, a sign on the wall, which still survives, soon put them straight: ‘gambling and insobriety will not be tolerated,’ it warns. The arches can be visited as part of a guided tour; see above.

GUARDIAN EXCHANGE

Often referred to as the best-kept secret in Manchester, the Guardian Exchange was built in the 1950s, (along with the Anchor Exchange in Birmingham and the Kingsway in London) to provide an emergency communications system in the event of a nuclear war. Lying deep below George Street in the city centre, its existence was only revealed in 1968, long after the threat had subsided. The bunker is now used by British Telecom, and definitely off-limits to the public.

HANGING BRIDGE

Constructed in 1421, the bridge allowed Manchester’s medieval townsfolk to cross the old ‘hanging ditch’ to gain access to a church, now Manchester Cathedral. In 1600 the ditch was condemned as unsanitary and filled in, and the bridge buried and built over. It was rediscovered during demolition work carried out in the 1880s and briefly became a major tourist attraction, before being covered up again during the Victorian expansion of Manchester. Over a century later the bridge was excavated once more, and following restoration work was incorporated into the cathedral’s newly-built visitors’ centre.

VICTORIAN SEWER

The Museum of Science and Industry has recreated a Victorian sewer, with all the sights (and smells) you’d expect – including some you’d rather not. The walk-through exhibit is set in the cellars of the Station Building and tells the story of Manchester’s water supply and sanitation from Roman times to the present day. Look out for the huge valve that controlled water flow along the Thirlmere Aqueduct, which still brings water in to the city from the Lake District. Tina Walsh