The sun beats down hard. I gaze out the window of the taxi as it navigates its way along the narrow road leading from Phuket International Airport. Just three hours earlier I was in the bustling metropolis of Singapore; now I am in another world entirely.

A little boy, about five years old, runs exuberantly across the uneven ground, wearing nothing but a huge smile. A dog bounds happily beside him, wagging his tail with equal enthusiasm. Behind the jubilant pair is the silhouette of a dilapidated old shack, partially ensconced by wild tropical foliage – no doubt the place that they call home. The unbridled joy in this little boy’s eyes comes not from having the latest video game or toy. This joy is pure in its source, reflecting the freedom and happiness that can be found in living a simple, humble life with few material possessions. As the two disappear from view, I close my eyes and take a mental photograph, honoured to have such a beautiful first impression of Phuket.

The taxi continues its journey south, past a blurring landscape of lush green jungle and stately rubber-tree plantations, dotted with makeshift street-stalls and more run-down shacks. The primary mode of transport in Phuket is the scooter, and the more people you can carry on board, the better. Families of four whiz past, balancing precariously upon their motorised steeds. Very rarely do they wear helmets, though once in a while they sling them from the handlebars. For the remainder of the trip to my hotel, I am thoroughly entertained by the dexterity of the Thai people and their ability to carry almost anything on the scooter. As we near town, the objects carried onboard become larger, almost to a comical degree, from surfboards and sofas, to dogs perched on drivers’ laps with their paws resting expertly on the handlebars as if they could take over the steering at any moment.

After arriving at my hotel in Karon Beach on the island’s west coast, I set out to explore this new world. A more peaceful reprieve from Patong Beach, Phuket’s main tourist mecca, Karon Beach is one of the island’s longest beaches. While the area is well-populated with hotels, wandering a few streets off the beaten track will give you a taste of the more authentic side of Phuket, not driven solely by the tourist dollar. It is this route that I take.

As soon as I set foot out into the street, my senses go into overdrive trying to decipher the sensory cacophony of that has engulfed me. The tang of motor oil competes with the sweetness of jasmine, while the spice of a fragrant curry flirts devilishly with the souring smell of rotting fruit. The incessant buzz of the army of scooters rushing by clashes with the captivating chant that emanates from a nearby monastery, and all the while heavily accented voices call to me, offering me all manner of wares. ‘You want massage, miss? You try Pad Thai, miss?’ I smile and shake my head in refusal. They return the smile with a quiet confidence, knowing that there’ll be plenty more where I came from.

After exploring my immediate vicinity, I decide to get out of the frenetic centre and venture to the less populated areas of Phuket. Hiring a taxi driver for half a day in Phuket costs me less than a 15-minute trip from my home to the airport in Australia. As we head north along the coast, past the sunburned crowds of Patong Beach, the Western faces begin to dissipate and a culturally diverse Phuket starts to reveal itself. We pass through little towns of derelict buildings, once glorious feats of architecture that have since grown weary with age and beatings from unpredictable weather. Whether it be Muslim, Chinese or Thai, each of the tight-knit communities inhabiting these villages maintains a culture distinct from the next, living a life of simplicity that, from my perspective, brings them a certain peace.

My first stop is in the north of the island, deep within the bounds of Khao Phra Thaeo National Park, Phuket’s last significant rainforest. Home to a rehabilitation centre for local critters known as gibbons, the park features beautiful waterfalls nestled within majestic tropical rainforest. As I wander along the path to the waterfall, Iocal children frolic gleefully in its cool, refreshing bounty, splashing about with such abandon that I am tempted to join them. Instead I revel in their smiles and laughter and continue on my journey.

Next is a visit to the Buddhist temple known as Wat Phra Thong, which houses a half-buried Buddha statue that, purportedly protected by an ancient spell, has withstood man’s every attempt to remove it from the ground. As I remove my shoes and pad quietly into the temple, the smell of incense lingers delicately. An old monk sits silently in the corner, wrapped in his burnt-orange robes, emerging from his stillness to give blessings to those who seek them. I watch, intrigued, from the other side of the small temple, as devotees bow in reverence, filled with hope by the sage wisdom of the monk’s monotoned chant. Once more he is alone, sitting serenely in contemplation upon his perch. I steal a glance, not wanting to interrupt his meditative process. He looks back at me and I divert my eyes shyly, unsure of what is acceptable conduct towards monks. But when irresistible curiosity compels me to sneak one more look, I am surprised to see the sapient old man grinning cheekily back at me. I smile back sheepishly, and once again I am taken by the joy that radiates from his gaze.

Energised by the encounter, I resume my journey inspired and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to take in as much of this world as possible. The people here have very little, and yet they are so generous with the one thing that they have to give – kindness. Every encounter I have with a local is a pleasant one, and while their smiles may be partly due to the income my presence brings them, their genuineness is enough to fuel my spirit.

Text by Mikki Brammer

There’s music coming from somewhere – perhaps a window opening out onto the street or a doorway left slightly ajar, or maybe a nearby cafe. The beat that emanates from the unknown is an infectious Latin rhythm; one that captures your feet with its irresistible cadence. Basking in the early morning sunlight, I look around at the other pedestrians, mostly locals, wandering this particular street in the heart of Buenos Aires. But the magic of the moment seems lost on them – perhaps because it’s part of their everyday. To me, a wide-eyed visitor setting foot in the city for the first time, it’s a sheer delight.

Buenos Aires is a charming mix of the world’s most enchanting cities – a touch of New York mixed with a dash of Paris, a hint of New Orleans and a pinch of Barcelona, with glimpses of many others in between. As I round each corner on my wanderings through the city, flashes of travel nostalgia run through me, making me feel like I’ve known Buenos Aires forever.

A beautiful constant of the summer here is the dancing carpet that lines the streets, composed of the rustling shadows from the foliage above. The verdure that imbues the city is breathtaking, and forms a cosy canopy overhead with ample shade offering respite from the shining summer sun.

My temporary residence in Buenos Aires is Home Hotel, which sits unassumingly on Calle Honduras in the chic suburb of Palermo Viejo. Blink and you might miss it (in fact my cab driver did, twice), this boutique hotel framed picturesquely by greenery is a design delight in the heart of one of the city’s most fashionable neighbourhoods.

Named Best New Hotel by Wallpaper* in 2007, Home Hotel possesses a vibe so welcoming that you feel as though you’re staying exactly where the name implies.
That is, if your home were a cosy 17-room shrine of design adorned with vintage European wallpaper and the coolest retro Scandinavian furniture. The idea for the hotel came to its stylish benefactors Patricia O’Shea (who grew up in Palermo) and husband Tom Rixton (British DJ and record producer) when they were arranging their wedding in Buenos Aires in 2002. With all of their friends flying in from around the world, the fashionable pair realised that there was no hotel in the city that suitably catered to their discerning visitors’ tastes. So they created a hotel (in what used to be a furniture factory) that embodied exactly the kind of designer refuge that they and their friends would want to retreat to whilst on holiday. An intimate, welcoming space adorned with impeccable design juxtaposed with the charm of vintage adornments.

The hotel’s greatest virtue is its personal touch, from the soaps crafted lovingly by local artisans, to the hand-tended flower gardens. The first boutique hotel in Buenos Aires to incorporate a sustainable side into its being, Home shyly reveals its greener tendencies through the smaller touches. Electricity cards turn off the power when your room is empty, and there are motion sensors in the common areas, so that the lights will never be on when nobody’s home. Custom-made reusable pump dispensers for toiletries reduce unnecessary disposal of plastics (the average hotel room otherwise discards six small plastic bottles per guest). And then there’s the hotel’s enviably efficient recycling scheme, which gives a second lease on life to everything from kitchen fats and oils to TV remote batteries and plastic bottle caps.

The neighbourhood of Palermo Viejo is polished but pulsating with creativity. Artfully fusing the old-fashioned with the contemporary, the barrio is full of beautiful ageing French-style townhouses now home to design studios, quaint little boutiques and cafes. Known as a gastronomic centre of Buenos Aires, Palermo Viejo is home to endless restaurants of all tastes and budgets.

Returning from my early morning sojourn through the neighbourhood, I wander back into the hotel’s airy lobby. Smartly dressed guests mill about, reading books in the lounge, tapping into the WiFi on their iPhones or chatting animatedly with
the charismatic staff.

I return their welcoming smiles and stroll through the lobby to the back of the hotel, where the bar and restaurant are located. As I sit down to breakfast on the outdoor deck that looks out onto the lush garden, all feelings of being in a big city vanish. I am surrounded by greenery and flowers; the water from the pool laps lazily against the sides, nudged seductively by a gentle breeze.

The few guests seated nearby are of all kinds. Dapper young men seated poetically in a Byronic manner, penning furiously in journals or immersed in books. Young couples deep in conversation over tempting liquid fruit concoctions. Breakfast (made from local ingredients and inspired by the cooking of Patricia’s grandmother) is an artistic affair served with the same discerning hand of design that has brushed over the entire hotel. Freshly baked bread served with chocolate butter, fresh jam and perfectly scrambled eggs (served in a glass), sit alongside creme caramel and a shotglass of exotic melon juice, followed by a steaming pot of herbal tea or a fresh espresso.

After breakfast, I’m enticed to try out the hotel’s spa, located in the base of the hotel. As the lift bounces delicately to stop at the basement level, the doors slide smoothly open to a divinely scented refuge accented by the soothing tones of exotic world music. I’m led into the massage room, where the intimate light of flickering candles dances around the walls. The menu of massages on offer is vast, but my travel-weary muscles beg me to select the most vigorous. I settle down onto the sunken massage table on the floor in the middle of the room and close my eyes in relief. If only home were truly like this.

Text by Mikki Brammer

The project itself was developed as an exploration of the multi-culturalism prevalent in the city. All 50 chairs in Street Seats were found discarded on New York streets and, as well as each being painted the same colour yellow, the bottom of each seat is stamped and documented with the date and location it was found. Throughout the five-day show, the chairs were regularly moved around – mimicking the movements of New York’s immigration, which currently constitutes more than 40% of the city’s population.

The unique ski resort is comprised of 15 large environmentally friendly pod huts. Each pod is a tent-like structure anchored on a wooden platform with its own insulation in the form of a wood-burning fireplace. To make your stay even more pleasurable, the pod provides full bathroom amenities and organic luxury bedding. In retaining an environmentally aware attitude, the huts are limited in their access to electricity and cooking inside them is banned. The resort maintains its environmental obligations by also minimising daily water and electricity consumption, reducing waste production and incorporating renewable sources into the hotel’s maintenance. Adjoining the eco-friendly pod section of the resort is a traditional wooden chalet , which holds the reception and the restaurant. Located in the village of Les Cerniers, Whitepod resort is a 45-minute drive from Montreux and is situated amongst more than 7 km of private ski slopes that are sure to entice alpine skiers.

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