The last time I came to Bosnia was in the middle of the Balkan War. My mother loves bargains and war zone holidays always are cheaper. In Bosnia, though, we were looking for something more profound than bargain-priced entertainment.

We got onto the only plane that flew there (surely enough, there were only about five holidaymakers on the plane). When we landed at the airport, we realized were on the only civilian plane there.

On the bus to Medjugorje we could hear and see the bombs going off in the distance, and it was a bit scary. However, when we arrived at Medjugorje, where the virgin Mary has been appearing to 6 visionaries since 1981, we realized that the scary part was well worth it.

The village was small and rustic with a big modern church surrounded by vineyards. The village itself was situated between two hills, Krizvas and Podbrdo (the name Medjugorje means “between the mountains”). Miraculously, although the surrounding villages were bombed severely in the war, Medjugorje was somehow left untouched. The village was comprised mostly of rustic stone houses where we enjoyed home-cooked meals.

My recent drive to Medjugorje from Split, Croatia, was very different. No bombs were going off in the distances, and instead of closing my eyes and ears in fear, I was able to appreciate the beautiful scenery. The drive up the hills, overlooking the coast below, was breathtaking. Beautiful wildflowers grew by the roadside.

Here’s a tip, however: if you drive to Bosnia, don’t get carried away and daydream, surrounded as you are by beautiful nature. Be careful when crossing the border. Read More »

For the last ten years, I have been coming to sunny and opulent Monaco for the odd weekend here and there. My mother moved here following my parents’ divorce.

Monaco a strange place, rather like Disneyland. It’s full of mega rich businessmen (like Stelios Haji-Ioannou of easyJet), royals (not only local ones, but the Kuwaiti royal family as well), super models (such as Karen Mulden), as well as the odd film star (Roger Moore lives just above the public beach). Unlike tourists, these people are here not to gamble and take in the sights, but to benefit from zero taxes.

Monaco is Monte Carlo. I’m sure once upon a time Monte Carlo was a town in the middle of the countryside, but now that real estate has become so valuable, every inch of Monaco has been built on, and the country has been swallowed up by the city.

Even the harbor is being expanded so that more yachts can anchor there. Not to mention an island being build out on the sea, with a surface area of some 275,000 square meters. This new development might take the pressure off the Monegasque property market, which has some of highest real-estate prices in the world: a 3-bedroom flat costs up to 5 million euros!

If you do not own any property here, you can stay in fabulous hotels: Hotel de Paris, the Hermitage, or the Metropole, to name a few. Every other weekend there’s some wonderful event going on, such as Red Cross Ball or the Bal de Ete, with expensive tickets attached. Or else there are sporting events such as the Tennis Master Series, or the Monaco Marathon, not to mention the Grand Prix. Read More »

No. 42 was once an elegant house. Its crumbling façade exuded an air or mystery and romance. As I stood on its cracked marble doorstep I felt I had arrived home.

For sixty years, No. 42 was the home of my Serbian great grandmother, Granny Spasa. Like today’s Belgrade, Granny Spasa was original, colourful, beautiful and never, ever dull.

A visit to modern Belgrade is full of surprises, beginning with the drive from the airport. My guide was Milo, a handsome young charmer with hedgehog hair who wore a bright blue leather jacket.

Milo drove his 1960’s Mercedes as if he were practicing for an F1 race, speeding to the heart of a city along tree-lined boulevards. Here, many buildings are scarred by bomb damage, and some have been reduced entirely to rubble. These sights are sad reminders of Serbia’s recent war troubles. To make matters worse, many ancient Ladas and Skodas still dominate Belgrade’s streets, making the air harder to breathe.

And yet, such problems are quickly forgotten when one encounters the joyful vitality of the new generation of Belgradians. Serbs, I would discover, party hard. One guy told me: “Darling, if you have any trouble with men, you tell me and I deal with them” - “Deal with them?” - “Never you mind, this is Serbia, it’s the jungle.” I had the chance to reflect on that statement later.

I wasn’t thinking about men as I went up to my great grandmother’s wonderful apartment. The next-door neighbor told me that Granny Spasa loved fish so much that she used one bath as a fish tank, dipping in when she was ready to cook and eat a particular specimen. She kept the other as a bathroom as her washroom, thank God. The hot water came from a small boiler tank, sometimes leaving one with a lukewarm bath; fine for fish, but not so good for humans. Luckily, five star hotels like the Hyatt and Hotel Yugoslavia don’t have this problem.

In the town restaurants, gypsies play romantic music on accordions and you are treated to delicious Serbian specialties such as Cevapcici with Ajvar (Serbian meatballs with red pepper sauce) or Pasulj (Serbian bean soup), Gibanitiza (Cheese pie) and so on. After getting through such a menu, I had to dance it off.

This is how I found Black Panther, a nightclub located on a barge in a district called Splav. I was told that guns are sometimes fired in the air there, but assuaged by assurances that this sort of thing is done only for show.

Nightclub barges in Splav have different atmospheres, but male exhibitionism is the dominant theme. Read More »