For a slice of Parisian charm without the crowds, consider Quebec City
Craving the romance of Paris without the jet lag or legions of other people? The City of Light welcomed nearly 30 million visitors in 2023, and even more admirers plan to travel there since the 2024 Summer Olympics and reopening of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Canada's Québec City, a UNESCO World Heritage Site with French roots, emanates European elegance yet welcomes about a fraction of the visitors as Paris. Flights from the United States clock much shorter times too, providing travelers with Old World charm minus the travel fatigue.
French, British, and North American cultures weave together in this walkable, refined city. 'Québec City is French-speaking, but it's North American, and it's unique,' says David Mendel, an author and historian who has lived in Paris and has also resided in Old Québec for almost 50 years. French language, heritage, and architecture
Cobblestone pedestrian streets wind past candlelit cafes and shops adorned with yellow awnings and overflowing flower boxes. Seventeenth-century stone buildings topped with steep, mansard roofs huddle around every corner. Cafe seating spills into walkways and French voices lilt on the breeze. You might think you're in Paris because Québec City was founded by Europeans and largely built by Europeans, explains Mendel. Québec City, one of North America's oldest European settlements, is a major draw for visitors who relish its quaint public squares and cobblestone streets, absent of skyscrapers. Photograph by Renaud Philippe, The New York Times/Redux The fortified upper town remains the only completely preserved walled city north of Mexico. Photograph by Enrico Della Pietra, Alamy Stock Photo The Cathedral-Basilica of Notre-Dame de Québec was founded in 1647 and is on the UNESCO World Heritage Site list. Photograph by George Pachantouris, Getty Images
Erected as the capital of New France, the French empire in North America from the 1600 to 1700's, Québec City stands on a promontory. Port of Québec, the oldest in Canada, connects the St. Lawrence River to the Great Lakes and the Atlantic Ocean for global trade.
Considered to be the world's most photographed hotel, Fairmont Le Château Frontenac beams proudly from the cliff with its copper roof, circular and polygonal towers and turrets, and dormer windows. Canadian Pacific Railway built this beauty in the French 'Châteauesque' style to encourage tourism. Narrow streets and public squares hug the winding topography. The fortified upper town remains the only completely preserved walled city north of Mexico. In fact, this enchanting municipality looks so much like Europe that it stunt-doubled for France in the 2002 movie Catch Me If You Can. What to see in Québec City
Travelers can cover a lot of ground in a few days, as most of the major sights in Québec City lie within a few miles walk of the city center. Stroll Old Québec for boutique shopping in Quartier Petit-Champlain and art gallery and antique perusing on Rue Saint-Paul. With a star-shaped citadel above, Plaines d'Abraham urban park commemorates where the French and British fought for the fate of New France.
Similar to its European big sister, Québec City also boasts a Notre-Dame. The white stone, Neoclassical structure remains the first Catholic cathedral north of Mexico and contains one of seven holy doors in the world. 'Walk through the courtyard archway and you'll feel like you're suddenly in Europe,' says Mendel. 'While Québec City brims with history, it is very much alive, with some institutions still functioning in the same locations since the 1600s.' People can toboggan down Dufferin Terrace during the city's annual winter carnival. Photograph by Yvette Cardozo, Alamy Stock Photo Strøm Nordic Spa has numerous treatments available, including plunge pools, saunas, and flotation pools. Photograph by Bianca Des Jardins via Strøm Nordic Spa
While Québec City may be chillier than Paris in winter, Canadians know how to champion the cold. The Québec Winter Carnival warms hearts with its spirited ice canoe races, frosty snow baths, and spiced Caribou drinks—a mulled wine best enjoyed between mittened hands. Toboggan down Dufferin Terrace or listen to the crunch of ice crashing in the St. Lawrence River as you're enveloped in steam at the Strøm Nordic Spa. Visitors to Old Québec feel like they've been transported inside a snow globe during the holiday season. Michelin-starred cuisine In 2025, the province of Québec became Canada's third destination to receive Michelin ratings. Photograph by Hemis, Alamy Stock Photo The French onion soup at Bistro Le SAM is topped with bubbly Le 1608 de Charlevoix cheese. Photograph by DFMotion via Bistro Le SAM
In May 2025, the province of Québec became Canada's third destination to receive Michelin ratings, after Vancouver and Toronto. François-Emmanuel Nicol, the chef at renowned restaurant Tanière3, wrote the letter that encouraged Michelin to deploy its anonymous inspectors. His AAA Five-Diamond, Relais & Château restaurant impresses, foraged Indigenous ingredients married with French cooking techniques, and this May earned him two Michelin stars.
'In France, the culinary scene is huge with classics like wild game,' Nicol says. 'Québec has its own clout. With farmland all around the city and access to wild ingredients, foraging is a huge part of the Québec identity.' Diners rave about the gastronomically transcendent tasting menu, which can be savored in stone cellar vaults.
'We play on the fact that Québec is the perfect middle, basically between North American and European cultures with its French influence,' says Frédéric Cyr, culinary director at Fairmont Le Château Frontenac. Beyond poutine and maple syrup, you'll find Québec is also known for nutty cheeses and sweet strawberries. Don't miss the French onion soup blanketed by bubbly Le 1608 de Charlevoix cheese at Bistro Le SAM. Chefs rely on close relationships with small suppliers on the adjacent isle, Île d'Orléans, where 95 percent of the land is still devoted to agriculture. Epicurean tours
While Paris is flanked by islands with historical buildings, farms flourish on Quebec City's Île d'Orléans. Take a tour with Concierge du Terroir to sample sparkling wines and orchard delights like apple nachos. Even those with a petite sweet tooth will want to taste test the black currant vanilla swirl soft serve at Cassis Monna & Filles as well as the indulgent, Belgian chocolate-cloaked ice cream at Chocolaterie de l'Île d'Orléans.
Frantz Noël, co-owner of Conciergerie du Terroir, has also lived and worked in Paris. He explains that Québec City buzzes with a similar cafe culture to the French capital, but in a more relaxed fashion with patio chairs facing each other instead of out to the street. Tours to the island often start at Montmorency Falls, where the cascading commences nearly 100 feet higher than Niagara Falls. Where to stay
Auberge Saint-Antoine, a boutique, museum hotel educates with artifacts from three centuries of Québec history on display. Just like a fairytale, Fairmont Le Château Frontenac enchants with its stenciled ceilings, crackling fireplaces, and views of the Saint Lawrence River.
For a cooler experience, travelers turn to North America's only ice hotel: About 20 miles northeast of Old Québec, Hôtel de Glace is constructed each winter with a new artistic theme. Hold hands in hot tubs under the stars, then snuggle up in sleeping bags on ice beds inside igloos. Cortney Fries (pronounced 'freeze') is an award-winning, Chicago-based freelance writer who specializes in family travel, outdoor adventure and wellness. Over the past decade, Cortney has covered hiking in Alaska, sleeping in an ice hotel, swimming with manatees, whitewater rafting the New River Gorge, ziplining in Costa Rica and kayaking in Tenerife. She's always up for an adventure and believes that you should definitely try anything that makes you slightly nervous.
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Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
‘Britons don't want to come to Tenerife anymore – they don't feel wanted'
British holidaymakers and the Canary Islands have been in love with one another since the 1960s when the first package deals attracted sun-starved northern Europeans at affordable prices. However, recent headlines suggest the romance is waning, with an acrimonious split said to be on the cards. Sensational stories of hotel guests hiding in their rooms from riotous anti-tourist demonstrations, British restaurant patrons being spat at by furious locals, and plane loads of UK arrivals suffocating in inhumane conditions in two-hour queues at Tenerife South's arrivals hall have left many questioning whether their loyalty – and their holiday euros – would be more appreciated elsewhere. A proposed tourist tax could make things even more expensive in the near future, too. But does this narrative hold up, or is it just a case of holiday hysteria whipped up by clickbait headlines? It's hard to ignore the protests that have been going on in the Canary Islands since April 2024, when tens of thousands peacefully demonstrated under the banner of 'Canarias tiene un limite' ('the Canaries have a limit'). But despite what some of the headlines seek to portray, protesters insist their gripe isn't against sun-seeking Britons, but principally about what they see as an unchecked tourism model that is progressively pricing locals out of their own communities, overwhelming the islands' infrastructure, and destroying ecosystems and environments both on land and in the ocean. As Brian Harrison, from the Salvar la Tejita protest group, says: 'At no point was the protest aimed at tourists or tourism. Every one of the [17] organisations that took part values sustainable tourism as positive for the economy. The protest was clearly aimed at the unsustainable mass-tourism crisis which the Canarian government, island council and certain town halls are responsible for.' Over 104,000 homes in the Canaries are owned by companies and large-scale property speculators. Meanwhile, during the past five years wages have dropped by nearly 7 per cent and rents have increased by 40 per cent, an unsustainable position for local workers, and the reason why hospitality workers are threatening further strike action this summer. Nevertheless, it's clear that some British holidaymakers are taking the ongoing grievances personally. One local, employed by says she's aware of a definite shift in mood: 'My family back in the UK are saying a lot of people they know don't want to come to Tenerife anymore because of the protests. They say they don't feel wanted.' And she's not alone. Tenerife estate agent Martin Astley says: 'We do get people contacting us asking if it's safe to come to Tenerife now because of what they're seen in the news. We always explain that the media are blowing things out of proportion, using dramatic, false headlines when the reality is nothing like what they're trying to portray.' Major UK travel providers aren't panicking; far from it. Tui has actually increased its Canary Islands capacity this summer, adding 40,000 extra seats from UK airports, while easyJet has launched new routes to Tenerife from London Southend. In other words, despite the headlines, tour operators clearly still have faith in the destination. The next big round of protests is taking place on June 15, but these marches are planned for mainland Spain and the Balearics, not currently the Canary Islands. Néstor Marrero, secretary of Tenerife's Friends of Nature Association, says that for now, the archipelago's protest groups have decided to change tack. Instead, they're focusing on occupying local landmarks, starting with Teide National Park on June 7. So, while Barcelona and Mallorca may see crowds chanting for change, Tenerife and the other seven islands should remain peaceful on June 15. Having said that, if media headlines fail to make this distinction, there's bound to be a few more holidaymakers who get the wrong end of the stick and look at alternative summer holiday destinations like Turkey, Tunisia and Albania. Santiago Sesé, president of Tenerife's Chamber of Commerce, recently reported an 8 per cent drop in UK summer bookings compared with last year. And Pedro Alfonso from the region's Spanish Confederation of Employers' Organisations admitted that there had been 'a notable slump' in reservations for the forthcoming season. However, other sources suggest 2025 could be a record year for tourism to the archipelago. According to Spain's National Statistics Institute, the Canary Islands welcomed over 4.36 million international visitors in the first quarter of this year – a new record, up more than 2 per cent year on year. Of those, over 40 per cent came from the UK, with Tenerife taking the lion's share. The British love affair with the Canaries may have cooled, but for now the planes are arriving full, and the hotels are still reporting high occupancy levels. Indeed, local business owners are sympathetic over the calls for change. What they're more worried about is the damage to the island's image due to misreporting. As local entrepreneur John Parkes says: 'I'm supportive of the protests. My concern is that the demonstrations are misinterpreted by the public and the media. The aims of the protests are to make the tourist model fairer for the people who live here.' The reality is that the destination is just as warm and welcoming as it's ever been, and visitors are unlikely to even notice the unrest amongst the islanders who understandably want the government to prioritise their needs over the demands of an ever-expanding tourism industry. What's happening in the Canaries isn't a British retreat, it's an island reckoning, and if it does lead to a fairer, more sustainable tourism model, that should be something worth raising a glass of sangria to. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
National Geographic
4 hours ago
- National Geographic
Exploring myths, legends and island life at the edge of the Atlantic
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). In the shallows of Lake Sørvágsvatn stands a horse. A brisk wind has sent ranks of tight little waves across the water and they slap at his flanks with monotonous persistence. Behind him, the hills are smothered by dark clouds, the weakest hint of sunlight struggling to break out beneath them. Perhaps in protest at the weather, the horse has reared up, forelegs raised, head pulled back. But all is not what it seems. Drawing closer, ambling down the pebble beach towards the shore, I find not the flesh and bones of a disgruntled stallion, but a jumble of rocks and earth packed within a steel, horse-shaped frame. A sign chiselled into a moss-flecked boulder tells me that this is the Nix — a creature that emerges on to land in search of victims to enchant. Should he trick you into touching him, he'll carry you off to the bottom of the lake, and there you shall stay forever. There is, however, a chance of salvation — if you're quick enough. 'With the Nix, if you say his name before you're in the water, he'll disappear,' Elin Hentze tells me, as we stand braced against a particularly vigorous gust. 'The spell is broken, he loses his force.' The Nix emerges on to land in search of victims to enchant. Should he trick you into touching him, he'll carry you off to the bottom of the lake, and there you shall stay forever. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes We're on Vágar, one of 18 islands that make up the Faroes, a self-governing region of Denmark that lies geographically closer to Iceland than the European continent — and in looks is closer to the fantasy lands of The Hobbit or Game of Thrones. It's a place where dark, towering cliffs rise out of the frothing Atlantic; where meadows sweep up and up to end at shard-like pinnacles of rock; and where waterfalls tumble sideways, caught on the wind. If ever folk tales were to take root then, it's here, in this mysterious archipelago at the far reaches of Europe. With Elin as my guide, I'm in the Faroes to unearth some of its stories, crisscrossing between islands in search of the giants, spirits and trolls that are said to dwell on them. Sørvágsvatn proves rich hunting ground. Leaving the Nix to its damp stake-out, we skirt the lake, passing little plots of land divided by dry-stone walls. Behind them, the Faroes' particularly straggly breed of sheep chew determinedly on the buttercups. Abandoning the car, we take a muddy path along the shoreline, hopping across shallow streams that bubble down from the surrounding slopes, and stopping to pick tiny blueberries that grow by the track. Elin — encased in waterproof hiking gear, long hair tucked beneath a bobble hat — tells me, 'Huldufolk are said to live in this area, under the rocks and in the grass. They come out to dance; there are many stories about men who are too curious about them and are taken.' The Faroes share the idea of huldufolk (hidden folk; nebulous creatures that are neither human nor elf) with Iceland. The tales likely came over with Norse settlers who arrived in both regions in the ninth century, and traded with wool, furs and fish over a millennium. The ocean that brought them here is soon revealed as the path climbs upwards, disappearing into dense fog, before we emerge at the top of the Trælanípan Cliff. The furious surf of the Atlantic thrashes against the rock 460ft below, grey-winged fulmars coming into land at barely perceptible ledges in the basalt. A dish of salt cod is served at Fiskastykkið restaurant on Vágar, one of 18 islands that make up the Faroes. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes The Faroe Islands are a place where dark, towering cliffs rise out of the frothing Atlantic; where meadows sweep up and up to end at shard-like pinnacles of rock; and where waterfalls tumble sideways, caught on the wind. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes Behind us, Lake Sørvágsvatn seems separated from the ocean by the slimmest sliver of land, creating an optical illusion that it floats above it. Absorbed by the spectacle in every direction, we watch as clouds churn and froth across the sky, creating shifting patterns of sunlight on the water, and the wind threatens to throw us to the waves. 'Long ago, so many people were lost at sea and in nature in the Faroes,' Elin says. 'Perhaps that's why they needed to believe in myths — you feel that there's a force bigger than you here and you need some explanation for it.' Proving the adage that truth is often stranger than fiction, however, she tells of the Viking-owned slaves who were thrown to their deaths at Trælanípan when they were too old or sick to be useful, and of a woman who hiked here with her husband more recently, and was never seen again. The seal woman & the spy Humans are thought to have lived on the Faroe Islands for well over two millennia. It's only in recent years that they've begun to tame them. Where tiny settlements of turf-roofed houses were once only accessible by boat or by a long, treacherous yomp over wild landscapes, tunnels now burrow under the sea and carve through mountains to connect them. One — the 6.8-mile Eysturoy Tunnel — even has a roundabout in it, 620ft beneath the waves. The following morning, I zip between islands through these underwater passageways on the drive north. Before leaving Vágar, I stop at Trøllkonufingur, a column of basalt as tall as the Eiffel Tower. Legend has it that Iceland sent a troll witch to steal the Faroes — but, before she had a chance to get to work, she was turned to stone by the rising sun and sank beneath the sea, with just a single finger remaining above the water, pointing upwards. Ignoring her directions, I head downwards, taking tunnels for as long as I can before they run out — four island-hops later — at the town of Klaksvík on Borðoy. Here, the ferry takes over. A light drizzle falls as the vessel creaks out of the harbour and steers north east through the mist to Kalsoy. Passengers greet one another as old friends, sitting at formica-topped tables to chat over cups of coffee. 'The ferry was always the meeting place for everyone — you miss that when it's gone,' Elin tells me with a shrug when I ask if locals feel more connected now it's so easy to travel between islands. 'In the old days, when people came to a place, they stayed for a week. Now there are roads and tunnels, they just pass through.' In the island of Kalsoy, this hard-to-reach patch of land formed the backdrop of the final moments of the James Bond film, No Time To Die. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes Linked to its neighbours by a moderately infrequent ferry service, the pencil-shaped island of Kalsoy retains that out-of-time feel. A single road runs north to south, and sheep and geese are the most conspicuous users of it. We take it to its furthest point, swooping down the mountains in a series of hairpin bends to end at Trøllanes. 'It means Troll Peninsula,' Elin says as we stroll past the village's stone houses, home to just 13 residents. 'It's said it was visited every 12th night by trolls who lived in the surrounding mountains, and the villagers would run away as they drank and partied.' Their torment ended one night when an old woman who was too weak to run called out for Christ in fear — the trolls left and never came back. Sat in the bowl of a valley, with mountains looming on all sides and giant boulders littered across the slopes, Trøllanes is fertile ground for a tall tale — I'm almost convinced an unseen menace waits and watches above the village, ready to rush in under cover of nightfall. 'It can be so impressive and overwhelming here, particularly in winter,' Elin says. 'It makes it easy to believe in dark stories.' We leave the vanquished trolls of Trøllanes to climb up and over a ridge north of the village, following a faint trail as it weaves through the hills and around patches of bog. After an hour, the land abruptly runs out and, it seems, we find ourselves at the very edge of the world — with nothing but wheeling sea birds and the dark, rolling ocean between us and the North Pole. Just visible to the east are two sea stacks: the remnants, it's said, of a witch and a giant who, like the troll witch, came to steal the islands and were turned to stone in the dawn light. The narrowest thread of a path tacks along the cliff edge in their direction, ending at a red-and-white stone lighthouse. It's a balancing act to follow it, with the wind primed to whip me off into oblivion at the slightest misstep. I wouldn't be the first to meet an unpleasant end here. A little beyond the lighthouse, up a slope that eventually spears skywards and requires some puff to tackle, lies a modest basalt headstone. 'In memory of James Bond,' it reads. '1962-2021.' Actor Daniel Craig might never have set foot on Kalsoy — filming his scenes on green screen instead — but this hard-to-reach patch of land formed the backdrop to the spy's final moments, courtesy of a missile strike, in No Time To Die. This very modern fable is the reason many visitors make their way to Kalsoy these days, but the island has a long association with another tale with a violent ending: the Kópakonan. Having paid my respects to 007, I meet her down on the shore in Mikladagur, a village south along the coast from Trøllanes. She stands 9ft tall with her back to the sea, has a distinctly blue pallor and is half-naked — with what look like skin and flippers draped over the rock beneath her. 'This is one of the best-known tales in the Faroe Islands,' Elin explains as we admire the bronze statue. She tells me that, once a year long ago, seals would come out of the water and shed their skins on the beach, taking human form for a night of revelry. During one of these gatherings, a villager stole a seal woman's skin and she was forced to stay with him and bear his children. She was eventually able to reclaim her skin and flee back to the sea, falling in love with a bull seal and raising pups. In a jealous rage, the man killed her family; consumed with grief, she set a curse on him and his progeny for all eternity. 'Still today, if a man from the village drowns or falls from the cliffs,' Elin says, 'it's blamed on the curse.' There are versions of the seal woman's story across the North Atlantic, from the Orkneys to Greenland — likely evidence that the tales were carried back and forth by fishermen and traders. But it has a particular resonance in the Faroes, where it's known by every local, and it holds special value in Mikladagur. Rumour has it that some villagers even have webbed hands. Up steep concrete stairs above the Kópakonan, Café Eðge has prime views of the statue and the seals that bob near it come autumn — the perfect setting to recount the haunting story. Actor, playwright and artist Eyð Matras did just that, performing her drama, The Seal Woman, at the cafe throughout the summer of 2021. "If a man from the village drowns or falls from the cliffs,' Elin says, 'it's blamed on the curse [of the seal woman].' Photograph by Jonathan Stokes James Bond's burial site is just beyond the working lighthouse on Kalsoy. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes Catching the last ferry back to Klaksvík, I call in on her at her home, a handsome wooden house overlooking the harbour, built by her grandfather in 1899. With her little dog Vanya snuffling at our feet, the candles lit and a spread of local breads and cheeses on the table, we sit down to chat. 'When we tell oral stories like the seal woman, it's first for entertainment — it's for gathering around the fireplace, keeping the darkness of the night at bay,' Eyð explains, pouring the coffee. 'But it's to protect people, too. It's to keep people away from the sea and off the cliff edge. It's a warning.' She fetches some of the costume pieces she wore for The Seal Woman, including a woollen cape with dark threads coming out of it like seaweed and red shoes to represent blood. Her modern adaptation is a monologue set to music, and she recites some lines for me, her voice rising and falling in a steady, captivating rhythm. 'I think, nowadays, we see Kópakonan as a political story about women, self-realisation and having ownership over your own life,' she says, finishing her performance to my enthusiastic applause. 'But it's also about the wildness in her and in nature. That's not only for women but everyone — we should listen to the wildness inside ourselves. We come from it.' The artist & the farmer The Faroese appear particularly well-attuned to listening to the wildness within, and expressing that wildness through every medium possible; storytelling, it seems, is in their blood. The following morning, I make my way through the streets of Tórshavn to join another artist adding a new layer to the islands' timeworn tales. The quaint capital of the Faroe Islands, Tórshavn is a pretty muddle of black-tarred wooden buildings, some with turf roofs, and quiet harbour. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes - - The capital's old town is quiet, with just the odd dog-walker out and about on its cobbled alleys. It's a pretty muddle of black-tarred wooden buildings, some with turf roofs, most with candlesticks in the windows. The Faroese government still has its parliament here, on a peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic, as it has for 1,200 years. On a whitewashed wall curving around a winding lane sweeps a giant mural — of flying squid, tusk fish, whelks and a bounty of other sea creatures found off the islands' coast. I meet the man responsible for it, Heiðrikur á Heygum (or simply Heiðrik), in a cafe overlooking the boat masts of Tórshavn's harbour. Dressed in black, with delicate tattoos of native flora running up his arms, Heiðrik opens a portfolio case to reveal page after page of watercolours — there's a sinister elfin figure perched on a rock in the moonlight; a lone horse with a serpent's tail and glowing eyes standing in the water; a long-haired man with a tall crown and peevish expression sitting on a throne. They're all part of the artist's latest project — an illustrated book of the Faroes Islands' myths and folklore. 'Writing down the stories is new,' Heiðrik says, leafing through the work. 'Traditionally, they were shared through song, and an oral story is like Chinese whispers — it changes every time you tell it. I'm just another reteller, the latest link in the chain.' Heiðrikur á Heygum's latest project — an illustrated book of the Faroes Islands' myths and folklore, is set to be published at the end of the year, with versions in Faroese, Danish and English to bring the tales to a new audience. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes The plan is to publish the collection at the end of the year, with versions in Faroese, Danish and English bringing the tales to a new audience. Until then, visitors must make do with reading the stories in the landscapes that inspired them. 'Anywhere there's nature and the sea,' says Heiðrik, carefully putting away the pages, 'that's where you'll find legends in the Faroe Islands.' I spend my last evening discovering that the tradition of oral story-telling Heiðrik is magicking into print is still very much in rude health. The sun is just starting to set when Anna and Óli Rubeksen invite me into their home in the tiny village of Velbastaður, 15 minutes' drive from Tórshavn. Enormous picture windows line one side of the farmhouse, opening to views of grassland tumbling down to the pearly waters of Hestfjord and, beyond, to the tiny island of Hestur (population 15). 'Come, sit,' says Óli, gesturing to a long table, 'and I'll tell you our story.' Ninth-generation sheep farmers, the Rubeksens have been running supper clubs here since 2014, opening their house to up to 30 guests at a time. 'We try to be like a cultural exchange,' says Óli as sheep dog Mia leaps on to his lap. 'The magic for us is when everyone interacts with each other.' Named for heimablídni, a Faroese tradition of 'home hospitality', the dinners are a crash course in local ingredients and cooking, with dish after dish appearing on the table over the course of several hours: rye bread with salted mutton; carrot and vegetable soup; roast lamb with caramelised potatoes and red cabbage. With candles lit against the gathering gloom, conversation flows, leaping from the Norse language to rhubarb, sheepdog-training to Viking hygiene. Our attention is continually pulled towards the window, even when there's nothing to see but our own reflections staring back at us. 'You can understand in the old days when there was no electricity,' says Anna, peering out, 'you would sit and imagine so many things out there.' For now, feasting and company have tamed the Faroe Islands. But soon I must take my leave and head back out into the night, and everything looks different in the dark. Getting there & around Atlantic Airways flies direct from Gatwick to Vágar twice weekly from the end of May to the end of August; and from Edinburgh twice weekly from March to December. The rest of the year, fly via Copenhagen with Atlantic Airways or SAS. Average flight time: 2hr10m (Gatwick); 1hr35m (Edinburgh) A hire car is your best bet for travelling around the islands, and there are rental desks at the airport. It's a 45-minute drive from there to the capital Tórshavn. When to go June, July and August see the warmest temperatures (around 13C) and longest hours of daylight (up to 20 hours), but also the most visitors; locations with few facilities can get booked up fast. September is a good choice, with temperatures around 12C and 13 hours of daylight. The weather is changeable year-round, with rain and mist a possibility any time. While temperatures are fairly mild in winter (about 7C), many hotels shut for the season. Puffins arrive to nest in April, and usually stay until the end of August. Where to stay Hotel Vágar, Vágar island. From DKK800 (£90). Hotel Føroyar, Tórshavn. From DKK840 (£95). More info How to do it: Nordic travel specialist Where the Wild Is offers several itineraries. The eight-night Classic Circle Self-Drive covers multiple islands and includes visits to Lake Sørvágsvatn and Kalsoy; from £1,700, including hotels and car hire, excluding flights. The four-night Summer Puffin Adventure takes in Tórshavn and the puffin-nesting island of Mykines, from £1,250. This story was created with the support of Visit Faroe Islands. Published in the June 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK). To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
CNBC
6 hours ago
- CNBC
Where a Michelin-starred Japanese chef eats, drinks and shops in Tokyo
Shingo Akikuni is best known as the chef at SHINGO, a one-Michelin-starred Japanese restaurant in Miami. He grew up in Japan and returns yearly as a visitor. The fourth-generation sushi chef told CNBC Travel how he spends his time there. Ginza Sushi Aoki Akikuni's first recommendation is where he was trained as a chef. The restaurant — which was opened over 50 years ago — is led by a chef who "makes himself available for not only locals, but also people that are visiting from abroad," Akikuni said through a translator. Noda For more contemporary flavors, Akikumi recommends visitors try fusion restaurants run by chefs who were trained in different parts of the world. One such restaurant is Noda, which marries Japanese techniques and ingredients with French influence. "In addition to the cooking, he really loves the wine pairing," his translator told CNBC Travel. Restaurant reservations are usually made over the phone in Japan, Akikuni said. To avoid language barriers, he recommends that travelers make reservations through their hotel concierge. Toranomon Yokocho Akikuni also suggests eating at a Yokocho, an alleyway lined with street vendors and bars. Toranomon Yokocho, a newer food center in Japan, is a modern take on the Yokocho concept — although it is set up in a "nice development," he said. Food there goes beyond Japanese cuisine, and visitors can "try a little bit of everything all in one place." Good Music Bar Akikuni recommends the vinyl music bar with an extensive record collection and live acts from Monday to Saturday. The bar has great cocktails, a high-quality sound system and is big enough for groups of friends, he said. Kasumicho Arashi The hidden bar is known for its fruit-based cocktails, Akikuni said. It's tucked in the basement of a house in the residential area of Nishiazabu. The speakeasy incorporates "great farm fresh items" in its menu, he said. The SG Club This one is owned by Shingo Gokan, whom Akikuni called "one of the most famous bartenders of this generation." Gokan, who won the 2021 Industry Icon Award from the World's 50 Best organization, also owns a speakeasy, Sip & Guzzle, in New York City. The bar, which "has been popular for a long time," has three unique floors with different menus and a cigar room, Akikuni said. Tokyo offers many spots for sightseeing, and Akikuni's favorites are the Meiji Jingu Shrine and the Toyosu Fish Market. Meiji Jingu Shrine The shrine — arguably Tokyo's most famous — is a must-see, he said. The shrine was built in 1920 in the busy neighborhood of Shibuya. "It's a great break from the hustle and bustle of the city," he said. It's free to enter and lies within a man-made forest. It opens around sunrise and closes around sunset. Toyosu Market Akikuni said he visits the Toyosu Fish Market every time he's in Tokyo. At the market — the largest in Japan, at around 4 million square feet — he sees the vendors and suppliers who stock his Miami restaurant, he said. The early morning tuna auction is a popular attraction there. Visitors can ballot for the chance to view the auction up close, according to Japan National Tourism Organization's website. In January, a 608-pound bluefin tuna was sold for around $1.3 million dollars – the second-highest price paid since the auction began in 1999. Visitors who do not win the lottery can still watch buyers bid for their choice from farther away, and also buy some fresh fish for breakfast after. Toyosu Fish Market is known as the "best in the world," but fewer people know about the Toyosu Fruit and Vegetable Market, Akikuni said. "Japanese people generally are very dedicated to whatever craft that they have," he said. "So if they're a strawberry farmer, they're trying to grow the very best strawberries." Omotesando and Harajuku While the neighborhood of Ginza is home to many international brands, Akikuni recommends shopping on Omotesando or in the neighborhood of Harajuku instead. Both have stores that visitors will "only find in Tokyo," he said. Omotesando, referred to as the Champs Élysées of Tokyo, is an avenue with iconic Japanese fashion houses like Comme des Garçons and Issey Miyake. It's also home to Omotesando Hills, a shopping complex with more than 130 shops. Harajuku, however, is known for its subculture and quirky fashion. Both areas are walkable and easy to explore, said Akikuni, with vintage shops where visitors can pick up luxury and trendy pieces. The Imperial Hotel and Aoyama Grand Tokyo Akikuni prefers two hotels in Tokyo, both of which offer different experiences. The Imperial Hotel is close to the Royal Palace. It opened in 1890 to welcome foreign visitors, according to the hotel's website. The traditional concept of Japanese hospitality — or "omotenashi" — is what draws him to the hotel, Akinkuni said. It's like looking "into the past of how the standard of hospitality was created" in the country, he said. The contemporary Aoyama Grand Tokyo is a good option for shopping in Harajuku or Omotesando. It's close to both neighborhoods and the food is excellent, he said.
