Weak Dollar Threatens European Tourism

European hoteliers fear that the weakness of the Dollar against the Euro will force many Americans into re-thinking their vacation itineraries. With the greenback taking a 35 percent drubbing in the last 5 years, booking that hip Paris luxury hotel or the chic Rome hotel is becoming staggeringly expensive.

And this, says the boutique and luxury hotel company, Luxique, could trigger some handy bargains for the canny non-US tourist, especially at the high end of the market.

Now that Spring in Europe is grudgingly making its appearance, all the great European capitals will be in competition for the attention of the short-break tourist.

Luxique?s CEO, Alex Brey, said: ?We?re focusing on Paris and Rome this Spring ? both great places for a romantic break and both with hundreds of hotels competing for business. That said, three of the top award-winning Paris luxury hotels, Ritz Paris, Four Seasons Hotel George V Paris, and the H�tel Plaza Ath�n�e will still charge you over a 1000 dollars per night for a Deluxe Double room.?

A provocative and tongue-in-cheek blog recently suggested that Rome far outstripped Paris in terms of a pleasant European experience. Needless to say, the blog elicited some fervent comments for and against. Perhaps the best and most diplomatic summing-up was this: ?Why should one be better than the other? They?re different, that?s all.?

The answer is, of course, that if you have time, visit both. There are regular flights between Paris and Rome or an overnight sleeper rail service that takes around fourteen and a half hours.

On the Luxique website, you?ll find great rates at some of the best design, boutique and luxury hotels in Paris and Rome as well as city guides with advice about what to see and how best to get around.

Stay in Devon for Holiday Heaven!

It?s no coincidence that Devon rhymes with heaven; the locals know this, as does anyone who?s ever taken a holiday there. Whether you want a romantic getaway for a long weekend or are taking a few weeks holiday with the kids, Devon offers an abundance of accommodation choices, gorgeous scenery and, no end of things to do.

Just follow the M5 south as far as you can go and you hit the county with something for everyone. It?s an easy destination without a car too, there are frequent flights to Exeter airport and some of the most beautiful train journeys you can imagine once you are there. Looking for accommodation in Devon opens up a wealth of choices; you could relax in style amidst the grandeur of seafront hotels, or indulge a fantasy of living in a cottage with roses round the door and explore the vast choice of Devon self-catering possibilities. For the more adventurous, try camping in Devon, an easy option in a county with an endless choice of beauty spots to choose from.

Devon?s rugged North coast boasts some of the best beaches, not to mention the best surf, in the UK. Within a few hours of leaving your desk and in-tray in the city you could be out in a wetsuit and, quite literally, surfing into the sunset. If you?re looking for tranquillity, explore the rolling hills and discover villages that define the word picturesque, looking as though they have been cut out from chocolate boxes. It doesn?t stop there. The wilderness beauty of Dartmoor National Park is breathtaking for those who feel more adventurous (or need a brisk walk after a cream tea!).

The great thing about taking a holiday in Devon is that whether you want the indulgence of a hotel or prefer to cook beans from the porch of a tent, once you?ve found the right accommodation, it?s easy to explore the county and fill a holiday with all this and more. Wherever you chose to base yourself, beaches, wild walks or fine wining and dining are all within easy reach.

Staying in Devon hotels you?ll soon discover why the county is known as the English Riviera. For those who want a cosmopolitan holiday experience it?s also the perfect place to indulge in retail therapy or sip cocktails whilst watching the boats come and go.

Holidaying in Devon with kids is easy too, teens or tots will be hard pushed to say they are bored. They could try pony-trekking on Dartmoor, learn to sail or surf or, simply perfect the art of making sand castles on the beach. In Devon, self-catering holidays are the perfect option for families who want home comforts and a cosy base to explore from. It?s also worth remembering how much fun it is under canvas, camping in Devon is easy as most campsites are fully geared up for families.

Who needs the hassle of long haul flights and complicated travel arrangements, when a holiday in Devon, offers so much?

A Devon Holiday

It's amazing, and distressing at the time, to discover in the western world you can feel desperately removed and wanting the comforts of domestic heating, lighting, and something, anything that reminds you of being in a house. Deciding to go to Devon by train on a camping holiday in mid March was easy. It was doing it that proved difficult. Arriving the first night, I found myself inside a tent, while outside was nothing but a howling gale. The idea that I would be here for four more days terrified me. I really, really wanted to not be there.

The inclement weather was unrelenting in the morning. There was no car to warm myself in. I hobbled out of the tent in the clothes I had slept in - it was too cold to change. Although I was with three friends who repeatedly told me they loved and cared about me, I felt the need to leave for civilisation immediately. My train booking was unalterable; my mobile phone was out of signal. I did have next months rent in my bank account that I briefly considered spending on a taxi home.

Amidst biting rain and driving winds I staggered out of the forlorn looking campsite to a payphone and meekly called my sister. 'Please text me as much information as possible to do with getting out of Devon,' were the essence of my demands.

A series of woeful texts ensued, all with sad and miserable news about �200 flights, cancelled trains, and flooded roads. I felt stranded. Utterly and miserably alone. The final text was simple: ?Find a pub, get drunk, crawl into tent and sleep.?

No. I was going to fight for my salvation; not give in to the false promise of alcohol. Unlike my attitude to the weather forecast, the idea of topping all this crap with a hangover was enough for me to continue in my quest to get the hell out of Devon.

Yes, I was going to improve my situation and look for some Devon Hotels to stay in. Devon accommodation should be plentiful and easy to find. It?s where people go on holidays; the weather was appalling so there should be plenty of rooms available.

The trouble was I was already in the middle of nowhere, and barely had the energy to get anywhere or do anything because I was already consumed with rage at my stupid decision to be here in the first place.

I walked for a couple of hours before realising finding a Devon hotel and then paying for it would be difficult and regrettable. An hour later I arrived at a pub. It was warm and the beer tasted good. I felt good. My Devon accommodation in the form of a tent felt good. As I tipsily walked out into the softening winds, I remembered my friends back at the campsite. My sister?s kindly advice was beginning to make sense.

Vive la Difference!

Paris has dozens of partner cities throughout the world, but only one other qualifies as its ?sister city? and that?s Rome. The two have a saying, ?Only Paris is worthy of Rome, only Rome is worthy of Paris.?

It all sounds very chummy, but now that spring in Europe is grudgingly making its appearance, these two great cities will be in competition for the attention of the short-break tourist.

Paris has always traditionally been the passionate heart of Europe, but lovers emerging from winter hibernation shouldn?t discount the Eternal City, as Rome is fondly nicknamed. After all, who could forget such classic romantic movies as Three Coins In The Fountain and Roman Holiday?

I came across a provocative and tongue-in-cheek blog the other day that suggested Rome far outstripped Paris in terms of a pleasant European experience. Oddly, the writer is actually a resident of Paris, so perhaps the honeymoon period passes when you start living somewhere. There were about two dozen pro-Rome statements proffered, although one of these was ?the ocean is nearby? (it?s actually about 17 miles away at the last count).

Needless to say, the blog elicited some fervent comments for and against. Said one: ?How can Paris be better than Rome in any sense? Paris is just marketing, the French are masters in self-promotion from food to fashion. Just look at Paris?s main symbol ? it?s a bunch of steel rods! Can this even be compared to the Colosseum?? A bit harsh on the iconic and beautiful Eiffel Tower and on a city that can also boast the Arc de Triomphe, the cathedral of Notre Dame and the Mona Lisa!

Perhaps the best and most diplomatic summing-up was this: ?Why should one be better than the other? They?re different, that?s all.?

Too true - and the answer is, of course, that if you have time, visit both. There are regular flights between Paris and Rome or an overnight sleeper rail service that takes around fourteen and a half hours.

Shop around on the web and you?ll find some of the best design, boutique and luxury hotels in Paris and Rome as well as city guides with advice about what to see and how best to get around.

Landboarding trip to Ireland

Isn?t it incredible that flying is cheaper than the railways? And driving is cheaper than the railways? It used to do exasperate, frustrate and infuriate me that a journey from the UK to most cities in Europe was so difficult to arrange by train, and so ridiculously simple to organise by flying. I?ve no anger left on this subject, just a weary resignation that we?re living in a culture far removed from energy efficiency and respect for the Earth?s resources, together with a Green movement so hysterically charged and preachy that for the common man there is no middle ground.

It?s not just that flying is cheaper; it?s easier to sort out. There is a range of web sites that offers information on rail travel in the UK and throughout Europe. Apart from fares to Ireland, rail travel prices are hugely expensive compared to flying, and working out the times and connections are fiddly, complicated and unreliable. You pay tons more for high speed services across Europe, and the cheaper trains mean a seemingly simple trip from, say, London to Prague, takes over 36 hours, including an overnight stay on a freezing cold platform somewhere in North West Germany. A flight takes a few hours and on a budget airline, works out around 90 percent cheaper.

Right now I?m booking a trip to Ireland to go landboarding around the coast of Donegal. Although an overnight rail-ferry-rail trip to Ireland works out cheaper than a train from London to Manchester, there are no railway stations in Donegal ? the Irish neglected their rail infrastructure as much as the British, despite both countries? efforts to revitalise services.

I can?t even take the train to the airport. The train times don?t match the time of the flight, so I?ve got to drive to Heathrow, parking my car their. Heathrow airport parking adds to the overall cost of the trip considerably, so I do a search online to see if there are any budget airport parking companies.

There?s Belfast airport parking but I?m not taking the car on the plane so that?s not necessary though I do need to hire a car from there. Bristol airport parking looks cheap but I can?t fly from there to where I want in Ireland because there they?re booked up.

Birmingham airport parking looks good until I realise I?m wasting time trying to save money on parking my car at the airport but not considering that the convenience of Heathrow airport parking might possibly outweigh the cost seeing as it?s nearer and therefore will save me on fuel.

Then there?s the luggage ? a landboard and a couple of large foil kites wont count as hand luggage and I know some airlines charge lots for surfboards and a landboard (looks like a large skateboard but with big air filled tyres on it) is fairly bulky.

I spend an entire afternoon drudging through different flight times, different airports, different airlines, and different airport parking. For some reason Edinburgh airport parking is free while meet and greet parking is available at some airports, whatever that is, though I guess it means you pay extra for some kind of concierge service.

Stansted airport parking looks reasonable if I book a budget flight, but the airline at Heathrow airport is more reliable than most of those cheap airlines. I decide to buy a special bag for my landboard, just in case whatever airport I fly from has some weird ban on skateboards. The bag is made from tough nylon and could pass for a conventional holdall.

Maybe I could get a bus to the airport? That would do away with the hassle of airport parking and the often high charges associated with it. But coaches take ages, and stop all over the place, and get stuck in traffic just like cars. I look at the prices and unless you book really early it works out more than buying petrol for the equivalent distance in the car.

I decide on Heathrow airport, as the Heathrow airport parking facilities seem reasonable enough, and it is the nearest airport to me. Why would I want to drive to Teesside airport, parking my car there just to save a few quid? Though Cardiff airport is, I suddenly remember, nearer to me, and Cardiff airport parking has got to be easier ? smaller airport, fewer cars, equals less fuss? I don?t count on it though. I imagine: these massive airport parking lots; thousands of identikit cars in which somewhere is yours; where you spend half a day looking for it.

The long sandy beaches of Donegal beckon, and the wind and tide forecasts are just right for a great 3 days of kiting and being blown around by Mother Nature.

In the event Heathrow airport parking proved less stressful than I imagined, but on the flight over my anger over why I couldn?t simply have got a rail-ferry ticket over to Ireland resumed. This constant limitation on transport and promotion of flying has left the railways and ferry companies unable to compete, with the possible exception of certain types of freight.

I suppose I could have got the rail-ferry ticket to Dublin, then a train as far up the west coast as I could, and then hired a car. Maybe next time I will. I just have these haunting memories of previous attempts to negotiate Ireland by public transport then at the point where I needed to hire a car found everything closed because everyone had gone to the races or the pub or something.

Landboarding and kiting in Ireland is great fun by the way. The sport is still in its youth there, which means less people and more space on the sands. In fact you can find some beaches, especially around Kerry, that are utterly empty. 5-mile long beaches. Completely, blissfully, beautifully deserted!

Now that?s worth the stresses of flying and driving and airport parking ? surely?

Scottish island experience

She just had to choose a remote Scottish island to visit a friend; who couldn?t put us up because there wasn?t enough space; who lived so far from the only hotel that without a car it?d be tricky to be able to meet up. Since we couldn?t afford to take the car on the ferry (parking at the port was still incredibly expensive) and her friend didn?t have one then it was unlikely we would meet up without incurring further expenses from hiring taxis. And that?s if there were any. We were venturing into the unknown, an unknown friend in an unknown set of circumstances. The only thing we were sure of that the only place to stay was a ridiculously luxury hotel that had eaten four-fifths of our budget.

I suggested calling the whole thing off. This proved to be a strategic error. She kicked off - you just couldn?t let your friends down apparently. I could see she had her doubts but she was using my lack of timing to channel that into a general cumulative stress release that resulted in me feeling remarkably foolish, followed by a keen desire to be quiet and never give any type of opinion likely to cause even the slightest conflict. We were definitely going to a remote Scottish island large enough to need a car to get around but with out a car and therefore no reasonable means of actually meeting her friend.

Even if it meant spending our entire time waiting around in a large luxury hotel in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the sea to catch a glimpse of this elusive friend.

The irony was I had always wanted to visit a Scottish island. The mountainous scenery and rocky shores and wildlife seemed unattainable ? a far away place that if I?d gone to I would have never returned.

But this visit?s background emotional context seemed to throw my desire to engage in the culture and geographical splendour of this ancient land and seascape, it seemed to hammer it down into the base gravel of her road, her interests, her unshakeable determination to visit a friend who hardly seemed in need of a visit.

The weather must have changed a thousand times as we drove north. Weather fronts swung in, sun, rain, wind, hitting us each time with a different flavour of feeling. Engaging with nature this way was mesmerising and cathartic. Crossing the border and winding our way through the Scottish mountains sent our spirits up a level.

We weren?t heading for a luxury hotel in Paris or a luxury hotel in New York, but a rather pompous sounding one in a land that didn?t need to shout or self-congratulate itself. The wilds of Scotland hardly needed to speak for themselves. It was like a dream.

600 miles from home, a tiny ferry chugged us across a strip of sea to the Island. My thoughts of despair at not having the security blanket of a car disappeared as a soft Atlantic breeze caught our hair as we took our first footsteps on the quay.

Then a cute little trailer truck train thingy pulled up and offered us a free lift to the one and only hotel on the Island! Immediately we felt welcomed to what I had previously thought would be a hostile foreboding place. 10 miles long and five miles wide, the Island was sparsely populated and it turned out we were at the other end from her friend?s place. At least we were getting a lift to the hotel.

The exterior of the hotel was grand and imposing, like a castle. Maybe it was a castle. Oh, it is a castle, that?s used as a hotel. Fine. She smiled as the sun briefly shone through the clouds that were now shooting across the sky in the increasing breeze. This may not have been a luxury hotel in Rome but there was something uniquely romantic about this place.

The trailer truck trundled through the large oak gates and into a cobbled courtyard; we entered the main hotel doors, and found ourselves in a large lobby reception area, a real wood fire crackling away at one end. The warmth of this large, high ceiling room felt a continuity of the islands welcome.

It was now 7 hours and 30 minutes since I last felt any trepidation or gloom about going away on a seemingly pointless and expensive holiday just for the sake of meeting a friend who wasn?t even sure they could meet us.

But when it turned out her friend didn?t even know where we were staying and wasn?t answering the telephone I sulked in the grandiose bedroom that was costing us considerably more than the outstanding bills on the kitchen table back home.

I rarely think about the future, because if I add up everything from the present and multiply by it by my expectations then look back and see if that?s happened in the previous two years it doesn?t change, just goes on as a constant. Even if I dispense with my expectations so as to avoid disappointment I?m still struggling to maintain the constant.

In the 1960?s a man walked on the moon and people dreamed of a free and progressive future. Today it seems all this has resulted in is our ability to use computers to switch electricity suppliers. Fascinating.

Our room is on the third floor, it feels and indeed is, high up. I look out across the Atlantic Ocean; white horses appear and disappear on the swell. The weather is edging towards a storm. Rain starts to patter against the tiny windows. Just yards from the castle grounds a long sandy beach trails away round a small headland.

When I reach it I revel in the fact that I am the only person on the beach. I run, walk, stop, change direction, and I?m getting soaking wet. She?s gone to see her friend, courtesy of the chugging trailer truck thingy. I can?t afford to stay forever in a large luxury hotel, but I?m going to find a way to stay on this island forever.