King of Mirror Escapist Club (Japanese Edition)

There are vast stretches of road where the only things to look at are eucalyptus trees and houses. Everything starts to look the same, colours bleed together and the sound of freight trucks becomes deafening. Thankfully there is one thing that breaks up the tedium of these sections: Every now and then motorists get the chance to see enormous animals by the side of the road.

The species vary from place to place: They are relics of a dying Antipodean tradition: To the broader public, however, they are known simply as Big Things. The story of how Big Things came to pass can be traced back to an American immigrant called John Landi. In he bought a farm in the sleepy town of Coffs Harbour, Queensland, with the idea of turning it into a fruit-themed fun park. It became a surprise hit; tourists flocked from all over to catch a glimpse of the Big Banana and Coffs Harbour was suddenly on the map.

Community leaders across Australia took notice of this success and tried to replicate it. Each of these sculptures met similar criteria: Even the Australian National Travel Association was impressed: Cheaper international air travel and a desire for more interactive experiences meant that the popularity of oversized models languished. These days many Big Things have fallen into disrepair.

Their fibreglass exteriors show signs of wear and weeds grow at their bases. Vandalism is also a problem: Yet despite all the setbacks there are still about Big Things dotted around the country, mostly between major cities. To devotees such as Stockwell, they are more than just kitsch promotional tools: Craddock is our Melbourne correspondent and former editor of the Smith Journal. His favourite Big Thing is the Big Banana. At my local beauty salon, which is called Milagros Miracles , attentive staff pamper regulars from dawn to dusk.

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One lady is being waited on by three young women as she watches the afternoon soap opera belting out from the television hanging on the wall. A beautician is hunched over her feet, which have been placed in a warm footbath; another is painting her nails a metallic-burgundy colour and a third is putting highlights in her hair. Nearby a schoolboy sits in a mock black-leather armchair flicking through a magazine. Nearby, unfazed by the fuchsia-pink walls, two gentlemen are having their nails buffed.

No one raises a plucked eyebrow. In Colombia you are never more than a couple of blocks away from a beauty salon. The first time I became aware of the penchant for nail care among Colombian men was about 10 years ago when I was at a military base on the edge of a rainforest. While speaking to a stocky army colonel I noticed he had immaculate nails covered with a shiny transparent gloss. A manicurist painted his nails with a subtle shimmery varnish and gave him a hand massage using her homemade exfoliant made from hand cream and sugar.

He left a fat tip.

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You can even get a manicure behind bars. One male accountant I know tells me that he gets his nails done twice a month. The full extent of her beauty regime is a closely guarded secret. He shakes his head. Now he relaxes and laughs. Up and down the bridge people are similarly posing and every so often an inline skater shoots out of the tube like a spitball from a straw. Designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava, the structure appears to rest lightly on each bank of the Bow River, which flows from the nearby Rocky Mountains. It connects a bohemian neighbourhood to the north with a new network of downtown cycle tracks.

A city of 1. Fuelled by oil and gas booms, new growth has sprawled onto the prairie since the Second World War, and until recently the car was king. Questions were undergirded with the practical concerns of conservative prairie folk: Pundits lampooned it as a frivolous vanity project. Dissenting city councillors argued for a bare-bones structure built on the cheap. News of a dodgy tendering process and construction delays were met with I-told-you-so glee. Yet here we are, with people of all ages converging in this funny red tube day and night. The bridge is not just tolerated but loved and explored from every angle; it was crossed nearly 4, times per day in It has also been put to other uses: The earlier controversy is all but forgotten now.

For a city that has often relied on cowboy nostalgia — previously its signature architectural work was a hockey arena shaped like a saddle — the Peace Bridge is a futuristic dose of relief.

As a structure constantly rippling with human warmth it creates welcome, memorable delays. The dad considers, takes a wide turn, and goes in. Klaszus is based in Calgary. He insists that he thought the Peace Bridge was cool before everyone else did.

At first glance it looks like an emergency operation is underway. An olive-green military pontoon bridge stretches across the Danube from New Belgrade to a tree-covered island in the middle of the river. Scores of men, women and children are walking over the temporary structure as camouflage-clad soldiers observe proceedings from each end of the crossing.

But despite appearances, this is not an evacuation. If the people on the pontoon look bedraggled it is because the temperature is pushing towards an oppressive 40c. Their desperation to reach the other side is also easily explained: The short journey across the bridge reveals a dramatic contrast. On one side the severe concrete blocks of New Belgrade stretch into the distance but on Great War Island the view is distinctly rustic. Some people get on with the serious business of grilling their cevapi skinless sausage over the campfires that punctuate the shoreline.

Others sunbathe on boats bobbing a few yards from the small sandy beach, while the more energetic take advantage of the volleyball and football courts under the shade of trees. Away from the sand a trail leads to allotments, a campsite and a small group dressed in medieval outfits throwing axes at a stump.

In the days of Yugoslavia they enjoyed easy access to the Adriatic shoreline — and many owned holiday homes on the Istrian and Dalmatian coasts. Even for those who managed to hold on to their homes, dealing with the interminable summertime queues at the new border crossings can turn a quick trip to the seaside into a miserable ordeal. Serbia lost its final slice of coastline when Montenegro declared independence 10 years ago. For a nation whose people are proud to say they embrace a Mediterranean mentality, it was a poignant moment.

Rejected by their former compatriots, many Serbians have responded by making an annual southbound excursion, turning the beaches of Greece into their homes away from home. And rather than face the summer schlep along the autoput, plenty of Belgraders have embraced the impressive range of possibilities at home.

Great War Island may not cry out for repeat visits — except among mosquito fans who take pleasure from making the best of it — but Ada Ciganlija is a different story.

The Escapist (magazine)

This island sits in the middle of Sava River, a short bike ride from Belgrade city centre. On summer weekends people come in their thousands to cool off in the lake and bask on the 8km of beaches serviced by an array of bars and restaurants.

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Adventurous souls can waterski, bungee jump or navigate a ropewalk through the trees. Inland there are cycle trails, barbecue pits, tennis courts and a nine-hole golf course. Or, indeed, more than a dozen Olympic-length swimming pools — half of them outdoors. They include Kosutnjak, a multi-pool complex in the forested hills above the city, and Tasmajdan, the venue of the first-ever World Aquatics Championships in It all conjures up a time when accessible leisure for all was the norm here.

For now, the spirit of Tito lives on at the lidos and beaches of Belgrade. Guy De Launey, Monocle. De Launey is our Belgrade correspondent. He claims his idea for this story had nothing to do with his need for a holiday. The Gagauz, about , or so Christian Turks, are a matryoshka people: A rural people, the Gagauz declared independence in the hot mess of the crumbling Soviet Union 25 years ago. An American Orthodox-convert monk, Shartz found the Gagauz through a footnote in a book on Turkish grammar. Given permission by his abbot to find out more about these Orthodox Turks, he learnt the language through YouTube clips of Gagauz television.

In the capital of Comrat, Shartz translates the church services into Gagauz only two out of every three weeks, after a falling-out with the Moldovan rotation priest. At Easter, Irina Vlah, the governor of Gagauzia, posted a traditional message on social media in Gagauz: The language will die out in 40 years and Shartz is critical of the triage. This is a place where glistening Mercedes taxis skid around loaded donkeys, where many prefer their access to the divine unmediated and where resuscitators of the local tongue are praised in Russian.

Hardy is a writer and photographer who focuses on eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union. Her Gagauz is so-so. They are a modern version of the long underwear that has been worn beneath kimono or hakama for centuries. The name is thought to have been invented in the s by a storyteller who performed a dance that exposed the trunks under his kimono. Made of a lightweight stretchy cotton, suteteko are designed to be unobtrusive and absorbent. To many young Japanese, the archetype — lounging in a white vest tucked into his white suteteko — represents all that is unfashionable.

He remembers years ago when the company asked men and women in their twenties, thirties and forties what they thought about suteteko. Faced with the unsettling prospect of an ever-shrinking market, the Takemuras experimented with a softer knit and an expanded range of colours and patterns in the mids. Until then the standard suteteko sold in department stores were white or light blue. Get the best threads from around the world and the region for men and women such as Bergfabel outerwear and Merz b Schwanen undies.

Great for layering up as the mercury dips. It still delivers the thrills. Wandering on the frozen lake of St Moritz: Japanese ski resorts differ from their Western counterparts due to their sense of calm, order and charm there are far fewer noisy stag dos and overzealous early-in-the-day drinking competitions. And even by Japanese standards Nozawa is quiet, well-kept and supremely civilised.

Known for its thermal hot springs, which have been in use since the 8th century, Nozawa Onsen is also a popular winter resort that is a favourite among Japanese powder skiers. The 13 public hot springs around the village are a welcome balm for sore muscles after a day on the slopes. Opened in , this ryokan a traditional inn, look up the rules of engagement and schedules before you arrive has 10 rooms and private hot-spring baths. Guests sleep on tatami mats and dine on elaborate breakfasts and dinners made with ingredients grown locally or foraged in the surrounding mountains.

Grilled, marinated Japanese eel and chicken are the specialities of this restaurant, which serves your choice on top of a bowl of fluffy rice. Perfect for a revivifying mouthful before you return to the pristine pistes. This soba restaurant opened in and makes its noodles from buckwheat grown in nearby Iiyama.

Daimon adds locally sourced forest Nameko mushrooms and makes its tempura with maitake hen of the woods mushrooms.

The Escapist (magazine) | Revolvy

Watch the sun dipping behind the range from the peak of Mount Kenashi. Le Refuge de Solaise: The former cable-car station, with degree panoramic views, will have 10 bedrooms, six apartments, a spa, a seat restaurant and a vast sun terrace. This family-owned and managed hotel has fully renovated over the past four years. The Blizzard stands in the heart of the village, metres from the slopes. It opened in when there was just one lift on the mountain.

A warm atmosphere on the terrace keeps it social and the heated tent is a go-to should bad weather hit. Another great restaurant and one that remains open for much of the year. It provides consistently excellent food and is also a resort rendezvous for night owls popping in for quiet drinks, live music and perfectly muddled cocktails.

Boutique Arpin by Mattis: Arpin textiles have been made in the Alps since and were originally used to make clothes for Alpine expeditions the iconic Drap de Bonneval fabric for instance. The Germain Mattis slope is a great pleasure for more advanced skiers. The views are unparalleled and the varied slopes make the hearts of even the most passionate skiers beat a little faster.

Visit this fourth-generation farm to see cows, goats, sheep and pigs that provide plenty of produce and products in the resort.

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They offer dairy products for the best raclette and yoghurt for traditional Savoyard dishes such as fondue or tartelette. He was looking for a resort beyond the reaches of the then-growing national socialist movement in Germany. A traditional Savoyard-style wooden chalet run by Fabrice Bonnet, son of founder Adrien Bonnet who opened it back in He ended up scooping an impressive three Michelin stars and becoming an institution along the way.

For more experienced skiers, the red Combe du Vallon route from the top of the Mont du Vallon gondola at 3,odd metres above sea level is a sound option with unparalleled views. While on the slopes, stop off here for great food and drink. Try to arrive between Italian resorts get short shrift compared to their French, Swiss and even Austrian cousins but to overlook them entirely is a mistake. The Alpine resort of Courmayeur is decidedly low-key compared to its higher-altitude rivals but it makes a strong base camp for autumn hikes, relaxing getaways or winter ski breaks.