James is a company director based in Christchurch. He runs, cycles seriously, follows Formula One, reads Hemingway, and cooks well. He arrived at this journey with a shortlist of hotels, a preferred airline, a set of Champagne houses he wanted to visit, and a clear sense of what he finds draining: queues, unnecessary complexity, and anything that requires effort to navigate when the effort could be directed elsewhere. Travel, for him, is an active undertaking. He does not want to sit still.
Fiona is an artist. She moves through the world differently: drawn to flea markets, vintage dealers, flowers, food, and the kind of patient digging that rewards a trained eye. She came with her own research too, accommodation options for Provence she had already found and annotated. They are not the same traveller. In this case, that is the whole point.
"He came in with more pre-research than most clients I work with. That tells you something about how he operates, and it shaped how I approached the brief."
Six weeks. A proper journey, long enough to actually inhabit places rather than pass through them. James arrived with a structure already in mind: France first, then Italy and the Mediterranean south, then the British Grand Prix at Silverstone, then London. Each chapter with its own character, its own pace, its own reason for being where it is in the sequence.
Fiona had her chapter too: markets and kitchens and the kind of morning that belongs to no one else’s schedule. Florence was for family, her parents travelling from the UK and already settled in their own accommodation. Silverstone brought everyone together: Fiona’s parents, it turned out, are as keen on Formula One as James and Fiona are.
"What struck me about this brief was how much was already decided, and how clear they were about the difference between what they wanted to do together and what they each wanted separately. That clarity made everything easier to build."
The journey moves between registers with intention. Paris opens it: active, cultural, specific. The Saint James Paris, a private club that takes hotel guests, sits beside a park large enough for a proper run in the early morning. That detail was not incidental. It was the reason for choosing it from the shortlist James had already prepared. The Ecole Ritz Escoffier for a
private cooking class, Roland Garros on the clay, an evening at the Hemingway Bar timed for before the room fills.
Provence is where the pace changes. Four nights at the Château des Alpilles, e-bikes available so James can cover the Alpilles hills while Fiona takes a different morning. A private cooking class sourced from the Wednesday market in Saint-Rémy. The middle of the trip is deliberately slower, so that Silverstone and London land with the right weight.
"The flea market question needed solving properly. The Marché aux Puces in Paris doesn’t work with their dates, and a Monday version at a fraction of its strength wasn’t worth giving them. Portobello Road on a Friday in London is the right answer: the serious dealers are present, the Saturday crowds are not."
Paris, four nights, Saint James Paris. The opening chapter: a private club that takes hotel guests, set behind iron gates in the 16th arrondissement beside a park large enough for a proper run. The first morning opens with spa bookings. Then a cooking class at the Escoffier school inside the Ritz, Roland Garros on the clay, and an evening at the Hemingway Bar arrived at early, when the bartenders have time to talk.
Épernay, three nights, Hostellerie La Briqueterie. The Champagne region properly inhabited: Dom Perignon, Roederer, Moet, and one smaller family grower chosen for contrast, where the person pouring the wine is the same person who made it. A hot air balloon over the vines at dawn, Champagne breakfast in a field to follow. Hautvillers in the afternoon light. Sabrage at the hotel bar.
Provence, four nights, Château des Alpilles. E-bikes waiting at the property for James, the hills of the Alpilles available whenever he wants them. The Wednesday market in Saint-Rémy for Fiona, followed by a private cooking class with a local chef who sources everything from that same market and teaches in a home kitchen. Les Baux-de-Provence on a morning before the coaches arrive. Four nights of deliberate deceleration before the family chapter ahead.
Florence, four nights, a private apartment. A family gathering managed on their own terms: Fiona’s parents already in the city, two private terraces, no agenda imposed from outside. The Laurentian Library for James, the Sant’Ambrogio market for Fiona, the Oltrarno for both.
Sicily and Malta, two weeks. The open middle: the Val di Noto’s Baroque towns at Ragusa, Noto, and Modica; the Valley of the Temples at Agrigento with the Mediterranean beyond it; and the ferry crossing into Valletta’s Grand Harbour, the fortified city rising above the water as you approach.
Silverstone, five nights, Oxfordshire. The British Grand Prix, all four of them: James, Fiona, and her parents, who made the trip from the UK specifically for this. Oxford and Blenheim Palace in the days around the race.
London, four nights. The closing chapter. The Belmond British Pullman for a full day out of the city: 1920s carriages, champagne brunch outbound, dinner on the return. Wimbledon earlier in the stay. Portobello Road on the last morning for Fiona, before the flight home.
"The Belmond Pullman is one of those experiences that sounds almost too good until you are on it, and then it turns out to be exactly what it promised. For this pair, on the last full day in London before Fiona flies home: it belongs there."
Names have been changed to protect our clients’ privacy.
