Lockdown escapes: where I’ll visit when this is over - MW

Ponza Island, Italy
As fate would have, I returned to the tiny apartment in Venice on March 8, the day the city was locked. Since then, the restrictions have become more - and true - more strict, so today I can only go outside 200 meters, beyond a trip to the shops. Fortunately I have a great view of the city from my terrace. From there, I could sit and dream about places I would revisit when I had the chance. At the top of the list is the small island of Ponza, 20 miles off the west coast between Rome and Naples in the turquoise Tyrrhenian Sea. Getting there was not an easy task, but with minimal carbon emissions, I enjoyed a memorable journey: a spectacular train ride from Italy from my home in Venice to Formia, onto a train. Old ferries, then slowly entering the harbor of Ponza, a bobbing mass of boats surrounded by emerging pastel floors, as the setting sun illuminates the sky in a vibrant color.

Everyone in the main town seems to offer genuine family B&B, and our host, Gino Pesce, also has the perfect name for his fish restaurant, Acqua Pazza (crazy water). Sitting down for dinner, a fisherman came in with a giant crumbling crate of red shrimp, the specialty of these seas. Cooked simply by Gino steaming mamma in a rich tomato and olive sauce, they're served on a homemade tagliatelle bed, and I've never really tasted anything as fresh, succulent as so.

Every day is a different adventure on this wild volcanic island that is five miles long and never more than one and a half miles wide. There are hardly any cars to see, and while renting a bike is fun, the roads are hilly and very windy, so we mostly board the great local bus and then go. hike through the mountainous countryside, where the slopes along the bright white, jagged cliffs lead down to the idyllic narrow entrances and hidden bays. The best experience is going out all day with a fisherman, anchored in a deserted creek with no other soul, then plunged into the clear water surrounded by colorful fish.

Ponza is invaded in July and August, so I dream of going back there when the flowers are budding in the spring or when the vineyards are ready for harvest in the fall.
John Brunton, Venice


Els Gate de Beseit, Aragon, Spain

I mostly work at home, so in many cases the lockout has affected me less than others, but, like most homeworkers, I need to go out to practice. exercise. Mostly I walk, and that's what I crave right now, a long walk in the wild countryside. And if I could choose a place, that would be Els Gate de Beseit.

Port Els is a series of limestone hills and canyons that lie between the border between Aragon and Catalonia. My favorite walk is El Parrizal de Beseit, a 20 km round trip up the canyon carved by the Matarranya River.

There is a harsh, almost forbidden beauty about this place, like the majority of Aragon, a part of Spain Iithve always has a little love, where interesting villages appear amidst harsh landscapes or on Inaccessible peaks.

The walk begins in Beseit village and follows Matarranya's process. It starts flat but gradually you are taken up the narrow canyon, rushing river and rumbling along the entire path. The meaning of the scale is huge, it's like Colorado or Arizona.

Wooden bridges cross the river, and in places where there are fixed paths on the side of the canyon. It's not a difficult walk - I've done it with kids - but this is the real wilderness; hike and you may never find your way back. And it's hard enough to feel you deserve to plunge into the deep, verdant abyss waiting near the end of your journey.

The water was always frighteningly cold, even in August, but right now, indoors and restless like a rattlesnake, I couldn't think of anything other than throwing myself into the cold, dark waters of Matarranya. .
Stephen Burgen, Barcelona


Goriška Brda, Slovenia

There is a sunny corner in the far west of Slovenia, where Hemingway places A Farewell to Arms and where the border was drawn with Italy after World War I. Goriška Brda is the cradle of Slovenian wine. It is truly a cluster of small villages built by the Alps in the north and the Adriatic waters to the south, each on top of soft hills and flying earth, with a unique terroir dubbed a of the best places in the world for white wine.

Last summer I was there to take part in professional wine tasting. The Rebula Mastergroup is an annual event held at the elegant palace of Vila Vipolže, an elegant palace that brings together nearly 100 of the world's top wine experts from around the world to sample a native wine. international famous. Rebula grapes (called ribolla gialla a few steps away in Italy) create an umami, mineral white with the complexity of a red color.

Or so I said. I really knew what I was doing. I was the only newcomer in the main class, sitting between the editor of a wine magazine and the wine researcher of a Chilean winery. I'm even sure what those black buckets look ominous (spoons). But the wine is wonderful. All 15 of them. Before lunch. My favorite is the Rebula Journey from the Medot vineyard, which is the legacy of Zvonimir Simčič, a local legend and world wine.

Simčič founded Klet Brda here, the largest winery in former Yugoslavia, which still produces millions of bottles every year. Thanks to him, Goriška Brda has risen from an idyllic but poor region to international fame for the highest quality wine. It is a place where locals and tourists know to taste luxury but less important wine, an ideal wine path off the trail. During these quarantine days, I like to remember that the master class, the sun pouring over those butter recipes, and I look forward to revisiting Slovenia's golden wine region when circumstances permit. Meanwhile, I thought I would open a bottle at home
Noah Charney, Kamnik


Spa, Belgium

This Ardennes town has been a popular destination for those hoping to improve their health for over 600 years. It is a place this 21st-century Belgian resident wants to review.

Belgium closed schools, bars and restaurants on March 16. This was followed up two days later with the decision to close all stores other than chemists and food stores. We are required to stay at home as much as possible and restrict the use of public transportation. All that means that the 80 miles separating Brussels from the Spa, in the country's French-speaking east, now feels a very long way. Prosecco and strawberries at the hilltop thermal baths, always beautiful, now seem to be a distant vision like lobster in Manhattan Grand Oyster Oyster Bar. The Belgian town's Laundry Museum (Musée de la lessive) almost gets the remote charm of The Met.

Spa is easy to love. Mineral water baths are surrounded by breathtaking country walks. La Tonnellerie, right on the road to the steep central hill, will give you a cozy room and great food. It is a provincial town, with very few if any large chain stores where many restaurants close early in the evening. I have made easy train trips from Brussels with my husband several times, when we needed someone to pick me up physically or psychologically. Next time, we will take our little daughter, Marianne, to try out the outdoor pools and the woods.

The Belgian spa town has given its name to all of the subsequent spa resorts. Dr. Henry VIII is a passionate fan. Agatha Christie wrote that Hercule Poirot was indigenous. Right now, it's just a place I want to be able to visit.
Emily Waterfield, Brussels


Lac de Derborence, Valais, Switzerland

First, there are schools and ski resorts, after which shops, restaurants and bars in Switzerland closed on March 16, before the public gatherings of more than five people. banned four days later. Since then, I have been mostly at home, missing out on the mountains where I had so many adventures during the seven years I lived here.

Back in 2013, I had just moved to Switzerland and wanted to explore. It was a beautiful August weekend, and a wise Swiss friend offered a walk to a remote cabin in the Valais. That's how my boyfriend and I came on a bus running along a narrow mountain road from Sion, blowing its horn - like a Swiss-German accent - while walking through tunnels carved in stone. , a drop down on our left.

The destination is worth my nails: Derborence lake, a pristine bag of still water reflecting lush forests and high mountain peaks. This was the starting point for a challenging five-hour walk - moreover, for us, because my fitness level was lower than Switzerland's - through wild grass-covered meadows, an ice valley. large prices, a stone field and large patches of snow as we walked higher This was my first time coming to a Swiss Alpine Club hut, I knew that approaching them often meant Settle a final, punished up as soon as you think that ends in sight. So it is with Cabane Rambert, our house at night, is strategically located at 2,580 meters for the best view of the Valais Alps, Mont Blanc and beyond.

As if we stumbled upon a restaurant in the village, instead of an alpine cabin for hours from civilization, this place was already packed. We chatted with other pedestrians for a three-course dinner, died of using the toilet - a wooden shack placed on a long drop of water - and endured the night air not to see the stars shoot out. from the Perseid meteor shower.

When it was bright, we lingered in the bright sunlight above the clouds, watching ibex graze nearby. I recorded that moment on the camera and in my mind - the perfect memory of what best introduces the country that is now my home.
Bishop Caroline, Zinal

Skyros, Greece

Schools in Athens were closed on 11 March. For the past two weeks, life stopped. Since Monday 23rd March, we have completely locked out the phone.

In an unchanging changing world, we all yearn for change. The comfort of a familiar place is engulfed in memory. For me, that place is Skyros - a strange Greek island, where I have spent every long, hot summer since I was five, when my parents bought a tiny barn in the top village. hill.

From the grape-covered hammock on our terrace, you can see a ragged roof and a concave cloud, a solitary chapel or cypress tree. Each time, a trail of sheep jangled on the horizon. Stray cats curl up under jasmine or crouch on the low, white wall where we drink coffee, postcards, sketch or bake sunsets with Camparis.

At night, we threw rags on that wall and our friends perch with grilled green beans, garlicky red peppers and crispy bacon pieces on the ring. Friends from Athens, Berkeley, Copenhagen, Basel, London, New York, Lugano, Toronto and Paris to relive simple rituals year after year. A remote community has grown up and aged together. Every summer, there may be a new baby, grandchild or boyfriend; divorce; one death. But the presence of those who have disappeared is all around, inculcating in our collective memory like vindication that traces paving stones in alleys. And the delicate delicate flowers that magically emerge from the dry stone walls remind us that life goes on.

My apartment in Athens is no bigger than our one-room house on Skyros. Our balconies hardly have enough space for two folding chairs and our limited view is about the inner lives of our neighbors. Like ephemera lured by the light, they also unknowingly glided on their ledges, staring at the immediately familiar and unfamiliar streets. Trapped inside with a child, I dreamed of another perspective - about sunlight dancing on vines and a distant sea spot.
Rachel Howard, Athens


Colorado Provençal, Rustrel, France

Ever since the French came into the lock at noon on March 17, everyone in my family has been fighting to walk Rio. The latest drawback is that we can only go outside if we take our dogs for a walk or for emergency supplies, so we are longing to run free in the countryside again.

Ten kilometers northeast of Apt, surrounded by lavender fields and orchards, is Colorado Provençal, an impressive landscape of ocher quarries where I currently like. More than 20 different shades of ocher were mined at this site from the 17th century until the early 1990s, leaving a 30-hectare park of eroded mountains and canyons and breathtaking geometry. the item.

The last time we went was in the summer. We follow the Sahara road through soaring orange peaks, red lakes beneath the ruby ​​rock face and blue cliffs and cheminées des fées (fairy chimneys, also known as hoodoos). It started to rain, and all the different pigments ran down to earth, flooding into the amber lakes. Unpredictably dangerous place; You have to cling to the aisle or can easily plunge into a puddle or slide over an ivory slope and dig into a wilderness of broom bush and pine trees.

The surrounding villages have their food specialties: Banon has goat milk cheese wrapped in chestnut and naturally cured brindilles called brindilles, they sell in meter-long poster tubes; Saint-Saturnin-lès-Apt is famous for its black cherries; Simiane-la-Rotonde gives lavender and chunky meringues, mint flavor. Apt is the world capital of crystallized fruit. The choice makes a quirky picnic, but then Rustrel is the closest you can have to lunch on Mars.

When the rain stopped, turmeric powder turned yellow in the hands of my children, and what appeared red brick from the curb, leaving my cream-colored chinos with a copper and copper tie. Meanwhile, our white dog, Rio, who spent most of his life being asked to leave the sofa, from the bed and from behind the cushion, jumped onto the back seat of the wagon. New and pink brown and red coats.
Jon Bryant, Nice


Serra da Estrela, Portugal

It has been nearly two weeks since we closed the door in the outside world and collapsed at home. As a keen runner, the fact that Portugal's emergency measures allow - for now - a short daily run is helping me maintain my morale. I went out alone, running along the empty streets in our central neighborhood in Porto.

Grateful like me, the padding along the runway is still not a patch on the running trail. Young man, how do I remember the feeling of the earth at the feet and the big sky above. If I could move anywhere now, I would run away from the city and create a path for the isolated pleasures of Serra da Estrela.

Located in the heart of Portugal, this sprawling natural park is home to calm rivers and majestic waterfalls, fattened boars and eagles that see it all. I went bimble two days last year with my friend Patrick. A local liaison together traveled a 90 km zigzag route for us, from Seia on the west coast park to Covilhã in the east.

In 36 hours of sweat, muscle aches, happiness, we hardly saw a soul. Fifteen minutes away from Seia and we were deep in the classic mountainous country; narrow dirt, pine forest filled with perfume, rustling of animals. The landscape is always changing, always steep, making our feet move and our mouths open. From the foothills of the arboreal we climb to the bare plateau, before descending into the shadowy valleys below.

The highlight came on the morning of the second day, as we slowly walked up the icy Zêzere valley, before finally taking a hairpin path for a final explosive attack in Torre, the highest point in Portuguese continent. The pain in my legs, the wind on my face, the world at our feet: whether I am there right now.
Oliver Balch, Porto


Sächsische Schweiz National Park, Germany

Ever since Germany imposed social restrictions a week ago - tightened them further on March 23 - my activities were more or less confined to my apartment and the streets were increasingly empty. Around me to shop and run. Although we don't have a fully locked lock like in Spain and Italy, it's hard not to start dreaming of a way out.

Germany offers a lot of possibilities for a tough dash. From the Black Forest in the south to the Baltic Sea a few hours north of Berlin, there are countless schöne ecken (corner or fine spots), some obvious, hidden things. But if I had to choose right now, that would be a personal preference: Nationalpark Sächsische Schweiz (Saxon National Park Switzerland), which is famous for needing a few schnapps to pronounce it, because it's self-beauty. Its course.

The park is located east of the city of Dresden, right on the Czech border, and adjacent to the Swiss Bohemian National Park on the other side. Getting there by train, car or bike from Berlin - I've done all three - involves meeting and following Elbe to one of the entry points; for example the beautiful towns of Pirna or Bad Schandau for example. Watching the river quietly to the north always made me breathe out slowly.

I often walk one or two parts of Malerweg Trick park or the painter on the trail at the trail, named after its origin as a destination for many romantic artists - Caspar David Friedrich - who sought inspiration here. It's easy to see why they do so. A mix of undulating sandy peaks, lush forests and moss-covered ravines, part of it is absolutely breathtaking, no less than the famous Bastei Bridge, which overlooks the vast roads. , poetic of the Elbe valley.

It usually has a lot of tourists here because it is accessible by bus, but the rest of the trail is often not trafficked, especially when you push into the park. The eight stages of the Malerweg trail are 10-15km long, some are quite easy to travel, others are quite difficult and all are intertwined between the ancient villages that offer overnight accommodation and restaurants with infused fares. system like schnitzel and spätzle. All have something of interest, from the Richard Wagner memorial, the old castle and medieval fortifications, to caves, caves and even health spas. It really likes to enter another world.

Näset Beach, Sweden
Sweden has adopted a different tactic from the rest of Europe, preferring to keep elementary schools open and not declaring a lock. But public gatherings of more than 50 people were banned, teaching at high schools and universities went online, and people were encouraged to work from home. Tighter measures are in the pipeline.

All this will be difficult enough for the Swedes to live without the magic's access last weekend in March, as the clock advanced. It is no exaggeration to say that we live for the moment. Suddenly, the evening seemed endless, like the possibility of summer ahead. Our hibernation has ended. Daylight is like a drug.

For me, normal would return to Sweden only if I could take a towel and a sandwich to see people on the crowded beach in Näset, on the southwest coast of Gothenburg. Here on a summer night, a lot of locals gather, jostling to find a shade or sun.

The smell of barbecue blends with smoke from shishas and cigarettes. The kids in the burkinis play with the kids in bikinis, the grandpa is cutting watermelons and everyone is splashing in the sparkling sea. Towards the evening, there's a creepy prediction when the boomboxes appear.

Näset Beach sums me up everything new in Sweden, multicultural, where there is a tendency for bad press. Here I feel a shared and conscious thrill to be part of this special melting pot. As a foreigner, and a person who misses London Mix, I feel very comfortable at home.