The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
‘Summer has officially begun’
As Europe’s holiday hotspots begin to reopen, our local experts gauge the mood, test the waters – and raise a glass
CROATIA JANE FOSTER
Disembarking on sunny Hvar feels like a blurry dream. Glistening blue sea, towering palms and a huddle of limestone facades bathed in golden sunshine. The catamaran from Split, where I live, was half-full – almost entirely locals, only the elderly wearing masks.
Croatia has dealt impressively with the coronavirus – thanks to an early lockdown, just 2,246 infections in a population of four million, with 103 sadly deceased.
I’m the second guest of the season at the lovely Hotel Riva (telegraph.co.uk/ tt-riva-hvar), which reopened on Tuesday, the day before I arrive. At reception, I find a warm welcome and the obligatory hand sanitiser. Out front, just four glossy yachts are moored up along the quay, where usually there would be dozens.
I walk along the coast to find Bonj les Bains beach deserted. In a pebble cove backed by pinewoods, a grandmother, father and toddler sit throwing stones into the sea. Maybe it’s because I’ve had 10 weeks of semi-isolation, but the colours – emerald green, inky blue and indigo – seem more vivid than ever. Local kids have reclaimed their island – young boys take turns to swing from a rope, tied high in a tree. The Hula Hula beach bar is vacant, no sunbeds, no lounge music; just rocks, sea and gulls. Gone is Hvar’s clamouring “glamour”. It has refound its dignity.
I follow a path through pinewoods to a hillside spot with spectacular views down on to town and intoxicating fragrances of jasmine and wild fennel. Then descend steep stone steps, criss-crossed by sleepy alleys usually packed with dining tables, to return to the main square, where three sunny open-air cafés are busy serving locals. The restaurants and souvenir shops remain shuttered, as do the cathedral and theatre, but the castle is open, and so is the tourist information office, where the general consensus is that things will restart on June 15.
“Things will crystallise this month,” says Niksa Barisic, owner of fish restaurant Macondo (macondo.com. hr), over coffee by the harbour. “If I decide to open, the restaurant can be
PORTUGAL MARY LUSSIANA
Whether it was the liberation of leaving our teenagers behind for the first time in weeks, or the anticipation of lunch at a top vineyard, my husband and I were ecstatic.
On the day after Portugal’s lockdown was eased, we whooped our way north from our home in the Algarve to Herdade de Aldeia Cima, a newly opened winery where owner Luisa Armorim has imported the traditional terraces from her Douro homeland to the plains of the Alentejo.
Wild flowers at every turn elevated our already soaring hearts. There were orange poppies and white cistus, lavender and yellow gorse.
The sky was a cloudless blue and I can’t remember a day where it felt so good to be alive. The winery, designed by duo Anahory Almeida, didn’t disappoint.
The ancient terroir, which saw Romans and Moors long before Covid-19 swept over it, was echoed in the complexity of the wines. Every sip of the Alyantiju white 2017 was, as my French husband said, “Le Petit Jesus en culotte de velour” (“Baby Jesus in velvet shorts”). up and running in three days. But everyone here has someone at home over 90, such as my mother. It would only take one infected guest and we’re doomed.”
She adds: “I think we’re more prepared for this than Western Europeans, because we’ve lived through recession, before that, war, and, before that, socialism. Money is not so important. We take things as they come.”
Next morning, I have breakfast among pink flowering oleander on the Riva’s waterside terrace. It is usually thronged with guests, but today I’m sharing it only with a polite white cat, who watches expectantly as the waitress brings coffee, croissants and an omelette.
The four yachts have departed. In their place is a lone wooden excursion boat, Bodul (bodul.com.hr), towels hanging out to dry on the deck. Bodul does one-week scuba-diving cruises around the islands. “We have five return guests from Zagreb who come every year,” says the skipper. “We’ve no idea how it will work this season. We’re taking it as it comes.”
Meanwhile Zsanett Jakab, of Hvar Diving (hvardiving.com), reports bookings from visitors from Germany, Belgium and Switzerland. “We’ll probably cover 30 to 50 per cent of last year,” she says. “We’ll be following the recommendations of the international Divers Alert Network regarding Covid-19 – disinfecting wetsuits and mouthpieces, and buying special new filters for the compressors.”
After breakfast, I follow the coast south of town, beyond the Franciscan monastery. Eventually I come to a hidden spot where I lay my beach towel on smooth white rocks. I plunge into the deep turquoise sea – it’s bracingly cold, almost icy, but I feel a massive sense of achievement and relief. Summer has officially begun. Now, let’s take it one day at a time.
S PA I N FIONA FLORESWATSON
is slowly returning to normal in Seville. We’re in Phase 2 of our
(de-escalation), in which restaurants are open (at limited capacity), as well as shops, museums and theatres – although the Alcazar and cathedral have chosen not to just yet.
Last week, I ventured out for dinner on the Alameda, a tree-lined avenue in the historic centre crammed with places to eat, drink and go dancing. It wasn’t as busy as usual, but still had its customary relaxed, friendly vibe.
Restaurant, waiters were masked and gloved. A bottle of handsanitiser sat beside the door. Five tables, allocated in 90-minute slots, were spaced 2m apart; menus were accessed via QR codes, payment contactless.
The waiter, standing at a safe distance, reeled off a list of the day’s specials, which was tricky to understand through his mask. I felt compelled to tell him that I was smiling at him under my mask; he said the same, and concurred that the experience was unnerving.
With no one waiting to take our table, we managed to tarry a while after eating. The sound of a guitar floated on the silky evening air. Damn, it felt fine to be back.
That glass of crisp, chilled verdejo, under the Alameda’s lofty foliage, on an early summer night – after so long at home in lockdown, a moment to be treasured.