Gorgeous

picture of Montenegro in the Telegraph

Sacré Coeur

Sacré Coeur, originally uploaded by Diles.

Gorg

Very cool

Cool

profile of Jean-Paul Gaultier in the NY Times travel section.

Talking to Mr. Gaultier is like being with your favorite eccentric uncle, the one who bought you liquor in high school — his crystal blue eyes glisten with warmth and pop with curiosity; when he’s very excited, his left pinky twitches. He added, “I love postcard clichés. You have to be a genius to take a good picture of Paris. So many have already been taken.”

Hahahahahaha

I wanna go

We opt for the lounge and sink into one of the sofas, which are arranged in sociable clusters around the room. Mini, the resident lurcher, dozes by the fire and a couple of Siamese cats pad in to see who the newcomers are. First impressions are that a lot of thought has gone into making the Whitehouse feel like our house for the weekend ather than a hotel. Over tea Tamara explains how she met business partners Matt and Ally as a mature student at university in 2002 and he Whitehouse is the final realisation of their dream to create a hotel ased on the things that they all enjoy – big beds, big baths and unhurried simple food.

The location- idyllic


The beds- huge


The linens- posh


The food- lush&local


Yup, wanna go.

Gorgeous

From a NY Times series titled "Why We Travel"-

A bridge scene in Moscow

Fun

Surf's Up

in Biarritz, France...

Sunset - Chia - Sardinia, Italy

Sunset - Chia - Sardinia, Italy, originally uploaded by Marcoz aka marchio77.

Mmmmm

Caperlicious.

Cool

There's always been something about train journeys that has fascinated me...

For the first day and a half, the Rossiya made rapid progress, speeding past thin ranks of birch trees that hung like silver curtains in front of barely undulating, featureless green fields. Trackside clumps of pale yellow primroses and newly raked vegetable patches next to congregations of wooden houses testified that spring had arrived west of the Ural mountain range.

Wow

I wanna go.

I drove west into Leitrim in the dead of winter. Whereas the middle of Ireland is surprisingly flat, as soon as I nosed across the county line, the landscape began to ruffle and fold and climb, this way and that, and I found myself ploughing through mists, rhythmically popping up and down through them, making a trail like the coils of the Loch Ness monster breaking surface.

Mysterious stretches of water would appear each side of me, one every couple of miles, flat sheets with gloss, frothing silver mist, and forests sometimes rose tall and dark beside them. It was a landscape from a dream, unmanicured, informal, raffish and intimate in its beauty, changing textures all the time. If Kew Gardens were the grand salon of a mansion, this would be its teenager's bedroom.