If you’re enjoying your breakfast while you’re reading Travel, do yourself a favor and read Cross’ story and Toni’s first, and the others, and save this one for later.
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Trust me.
OK … this year’s first Solomon travel assignment was for the baiduhai Magazine and took me to the wilds of Wyoming and Alberta. The deal: Check out the region that spawned the story and movie “Brokeback Mountain” (the sheep country around Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains) and the region that actually played Wyoming in the movie (the Canadian Rockies around Banff National Park and some nearby prairie towns).
Which I did.
There are some scary people in Wyoming.
Anyway, my story was published and, despite the potential for angry reaction on all sides of the subject matter (two sheepherders who find love among the fleece), reaction was, roughly, zilch. That was disappointing.
But …
It got me to the Fairmount Chateau Lake Louise. Where I enjoyed a little breakfast and, afterward … well, here we go (as it were):
A lot of folks collect things when they travel. Somebody must buy those thimbles and shot glasses and spoons.
I collect–well, you know how wolves in the wild mark their territory?
I mark hotels. Great hotels. Distinguished hotels–always, of course, in the designated porcelain.
Most of these joints, I’ve never slept in. They’re beyond my budget, or the Tribune’s. Oh, a few I’ve inspected so I can tell you about them–but in general, I just go in and … go.
I know what you’re thinking, but hey, it’s an impressive list. Sure beats spitting into grand canyons.
The Ritz, in Paris. Raffles, in Singapore. The Oriental, in Bangkok. The Hassler, in Rome.
The Amstel, in Amsterdam. Hong Kong’s Peninsula. Tokyo’s Imperial.
The Grand Hotel d’Angkor, near Angkor Wat in Cambodia–that’s mine.
Just a couple of weeks ago, in Buenos Aires, the venerable Alvear Palace became my territory.
The Chateau Frontenac in Quebec City. The Point, so exclusive you don’t get directions until the deposit check clears, in New York’s Adirondacks. Amandari, in Bali. Dromoland Castle, in Ireland. All mine.
In Vegas? Bellagio, mine. Caesars, mine. Venetian, mine. Wynn, mine. If you’ve done the Strip, pretty good chance you’re invading my space.
The Phoenician, Scottsdale. The Breakers, Palm Beach. Ritz-Carlton Kapalua, Maui. The Broadmoor, Colorado Springs.
Hallowed ground: The American Club in … Kohler, Wis.
The Old Course Hotel, St. Andrews, Scotland. La Casa Que Canta, the beauty in Zihuatanejo, Mexico. Istanbul’s Four Seasons. La Mamounia in Marrakech.
I could go on and on about the places I’ve gone in …
I also collect subways. I just ride those.
Which carries us, after we wash our hands, to our annual list of bests and worsts and observations.
Favorite travel experience, domestic: Five Midwest League minor league baseball games in five nights. Good baseball, great neighbors, cheap hot dogs, cold beer–can it get any better than this?
Favorite travel experience, international: Battle of the Bulge locations, in Belgium and Luxembourg. It was good seeing America celebrated overseas.
Best reason to visit the Florida Keys: Key West restaurants. Big money may be changing the place, but wait till you taste the cooking.
Second-best reason to visit the Florida Keys: Fishing, especially fishing “the flats,” where there’s lots of action, much of it edible.
But once is enough: Charter deep-sea fishing, anywhere. It’s just dull trolling, followed by heavy lifting. The captain and crew–and maybe the fish–are the ones who have the real sporting fun.
It’s time I tried: Fly fishing. It’s too late to be great at it–for that, you have to start early, and I’m past early–but it just looks magnificent.
Worst timing: The movie was made in summer, but that trip searching out Alberta locations for “Brokeback Mountain” was made in winter–when, thanks to tons of snow, nothing looked the same.
Best scenery: Those Alberta locations, especially in Kananaskis Country, in winter.
Best show of the year: The Carlos Gardel Tango Show, Buenos Aires. Even locals were dazzled.
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Worst show of the year: Penn & Teller at the Rio, Las Vegas. I’m a fan–loved them years earlier on Broadway, and even joined them onstage that night as a volunteer–but for $82 you expect more than a few slow bits and lots of pontificating about the corrupt state of the art.
Best hotel room: Villa del Sol, Zihuatanejo, Mexico. The standard rooms are OK, but a few pesos more will upgrade you to the stars.
Most disappointing hotel: Cal-Neva Resort, North Lake Tahoe, Nev. Sadly faded, it was once a glamorous Sinatra hangout (he even owned it, no doubt with silent partners). And now, the end is near?
Best hotel bar: Deer Lodge, Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada. The hotel’s rooms vary–mine, comfortable enough, was like a dorm room for the help–but the lodge’s old bar is a perfect mix of context and conviviality.
Best local artists’ gallery: Bier Gallery, south of Charlevoix, Mich. The ceramics will make you smile. Then, they’ll make you buy.
Best beer: Bofferding, from Luxembourg.
Saddest news, favorite destination: The political turmoil that made lovely Oaxaca, Mexico, a no-go tourist zone for much of the year.
Which reminds me: It’s time I got back to New Orleans.
Best big museum: The Donald W. Reynolds Museum and Education Center, Mt. Vernon, Va. George Washington–the man, not the icon–finally gets his due.
Best little museum: The Angel Museum, Beloit, Wis. Thousands of ceramic and crystal and wooden and metal and other-substance angels in a former church, plus an angelic curator. Who wears wings.
Best vista: Glacier Point, Yosemite National Park. Simply glorious.
Worst inflight movie: “The Benchwarmers.” I hated, hated, hated, hated, hated this movie.
Best inflight movie: “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.” I know, I know … but I laughed a lot.
Best excuse to drive through Belgium: Frites–french fries–especially the ones at roadside stands, accompanied by your choice of sauces. Including ketchup.
Best meal, domestic: Garides Cretekou (prawns with fresh tomato, garlic, feta and white wine in casserole), $20.95; Taverna Cretekou, Alexandria, Va.
Best meal, international: Judd mat gaardebouhnen (smoked pork chops w/broad beans in a bacon sauce and skillet-browned potatoes), $22.75: Restaurant L’Academie, Luxembourg City.
Best meal, afloat: Poached salmon trout and grilled shrimp on rice noodles and ginger sauce; MV Heidelberg, floating somewhere on the Rhine.
Most surprising restaurant: Wrangler Steakhouse, Furnace Creek Ranch, Death Valley National Park, Calif. With no real competition–we’re talking Death Valley here–it’s much better than it has to be.
Best name for an entree: Le Quack, $28; Japonais (Mirage Hotel), Las Vegas. You know what it is.
Road best driven: Whitney Portal Road, west from Lone Pine, Calif. Along this happy trail, Roy and Gene were filmed riding, singing and repeatedly being ambushed just as the song ended. If you recall those thrilling days of yes-teryear, you’ll tingle.
It shouldn’t seem weird, but: Being greeted with “hola!” by Japanese tourists in Chile seems … weird.
Best breakfast: Country-fried steak and eggs, $10.99; Apple Holler, Sturtevant, Wis.
Places I still haven’t been to but want to see: Pakistan and India, North Carolina’s Outer Banks, Kiev and other personal “roots” destinations, Marseilles and Vera Cruz.
Best roadside restrooms: McDonald’s. But be nice and buy something.
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Alan Solomon has never held onto any job as long as he’s clung to this one–12 years–a tribute to his love for eating on someone else’s nickel. E-mail: [email protected]