George Clooney Slept Here

Primatologists will tell you that vervet monkeys eat fruit, figs, flowers and termites. Don’t believe them. In Limpopo, South Africa, these grayish monkeys with the white-fringed, black faces prefer coffee and sugar.

If you so much as leave your window cracked, as I did at the Shiluvari Lakeside Lodge, an eco-lodge overlooking the Luonde Mountains, these adorable varmints will figure out a way to sneak in and plunder your supply.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being awakened by the sounds of nature (Limpopo’s 600 species of birds perform a delightful wake-up call), but caffeine-starved monkeys with powder blue balls (the males have equally bright red penises) are not my idea of early morning company.

Everything else about Shiluvari was perfect. Set in the heart of a nature conservancy on the banks of the Albasini Dam, this quirky, family-run lodge has 14 rooms and thatched chalets, each decorated with art by local artists. Even the cabinets, rugs and bathroom amenities are hand-made by locals, in some cases out of baobab leaves and rhino and elephant dung.

Shiluvari was started in 1995 on the estate of a long-time Swiss French family whose great grandfather opened the mission hospital in nearby Elim. It’s off the beaten path, to be sure, but it has everything you could ever want in a vacation: history (the family knew Gandhi), legends (white lions, tribal medicine men, etc.), and a pet warthog named Petunia.

Okay, so Petunia finally had to go, but Jack, the Jack Russell Terrier, is on hand and ever-vigilant at picking up crumbs that escape from sumptuous evening dinners at the lodge’s Wood-Owl Country restaurant that overlooks the lake. Not that I’d willingly let a crumb go (the African-fusion cuisine is much too delicious), but with all the fascinating tales masterfully woven by Michel Girardin, one of the owners who joined us for dinner, a scrap or two was bound to fall into Jack’s waiting jaws.

Girardin calls the province of Limpopo, South Africa’s “wild west.”

“It has a fantastic landscape, ancient kingdoms, extraordinary Venda and Shangaan legends, the Big Five and from a pricing point of view, it offers a bloody good deal,” he says.

Birding tours, led by Samson Mulaudzi, Shiluvari’s resident guide, are popular pastimes as is the Ribolla Art Route. Betty Hlungwane, the lodge manager, provided us with a map of the route that leads to the homes and studios of 30 local artists where we were able to strike up conversation, sit under an avocado tree and watch them work and learn of the dreams, visions and spiritual beliefs that led to each piece. In these Venda villages, it’s possible to talk with potters, batik makers, wood carvers, bead designers, drum crafters and young women dancing like pythons.

Although many of the artists on the route are unknowns and don’t have computers, let alone phones, others, such as sculptor Noria Mabaso, impressionist Jackson Hlungwane and drum-maker Phineas Masivhelele, regularly sell to overseas clients.

I was particularly struck by Thomas Kubayi’s 12-foot wood carving of Nelson Mandela with angel wings. Kubayi, who tutors local kids in carving from salvaged wood, also produces indigenous music CD’s, one of which is playing while I write this.

Perhaps the best part of the Ribolla Arts Route are the unexpected surprises–women balancing baskets of fruit on their heads, moms washing their toddlers outside in big plastic buckets, teenagers roasting prawns in wheelbarrows. And, yes, even nosy vervet monkeys.

Psst, wanna see a George Clooney movie that’s not in theaters and probably never will be? It’s a short documentary about a surprise trip he made to Costa Rica last year in support of sustainable, fair trade coffee production.

In fact, that’s the main reason I’m a Clooney fan. Sure, he’s handsome, but I like his politics. He’s an activist who uses his pretty face to make a difference. This website, of course, simply borrows his name because it’s a perfect play on the George Washington Slept Here theme. So while other sites are offering half-baked stories about his holiday trip to Cabo with galpal Stacy Keibler, we’re showing a movie of his time in Costa Rica doing what he does best: changing the world.

On this quick trip, he toured coffee plantations with Ecolaboration, a group working to insure fair prices for local coffee farmers.

Click here to see the movie.

While in Costa Rica, Clooney also did a little R and R at Asclepios Wellness and Healing Retreat.

Asclepios, if you’re not up on your Greek gods, was considered the god of medicine. Unlike the 12 gods of Olympus, Asclepios earned his deity the hard way. He practiced medicine on the Thessalian plains and was so good at it, he was given the god nod. In fact, the reason the snake is the symbol of medicine is because Asclepios turned himself into one when he was summoned by the Romans during a devastating plague.

But enough Greek history. The spa just outside of San Jose near the Poas Volcano is named for this deity because it’s a place of healing. The owner, a lawyer turned naturopath, opened this amazing refuge of healing after studying energy medicine and other healing modalities. It was her way of using her unique set of skills and knowledge to do what Clooney likes to do: improve quality of life.

Asclepio is small (only 12 rooms, each unique and gorgeously decorated), but it has a fitness center, a yoga and meditation pavilion, a Turkish bath, a tempered ionized pool and a team of bright, energetic holistic practitioners. And the best part? There’s little to do but rest and relax. The staff, of course, can set up all the typical Costa Rican activities–ziplining, volcano viewing, jungle tours—but why leave paradise.

The words “airline,” “food” and “good” rarely belong in the same sentence. In fact, in the United States, on most domestic flights, you’re lucky if you get a bag of pretzels. I’ve been on a few short hops lately that don’t even serve drinks.

Which is why I was so surprised on my recent tour of South Africa. On my first leg, between Washington D.C. and Johannesburg, not only did the flight attendants for South African Airways hand me a menu for appetizers, entrees and deserts, but they handed me a second, eight-page wine menu. I’d heard South Africa had good wine, have even sampled a few of their signature pinotages over the years, but an official menu?

The butternut squash soup that I chose as my appetizer (it won out over spicy shrimp with eggplant and tomato confit, grapefruit segments and micro greens) was hands-down the best butternut squash soup I’d ever eaten. Was I dreaming? Was I really sitting in an airline seat?

The satay spiced roast breast of chicken with a fig and port glaze (other choices were pan-roasted loin of venison, grilled sea bass or rigatoni with puttanesca sauce) did nothing to put an end to my admiration.

Okay, I reasoned, it’s an international flight. Of course, it’s going to be a cut above. But then I flew South African Airways (this was a day later, thank you very much) to Hoedspruit, a small airport near Kruger National Park where I was planning to safari. This airport is remote enough that they had to install cheetahs to keep down the warthog population that keep rooting up the tarmac. Even so, running next to the runway was a family of baboons. I didn’t hear them yelling “Da plane, da plane,” but it was almost like Tattoo welcoming us to Fantasy Island.

From Johannesburg, the flight wasn’t even 45 minutes. And guess what? Not only did the cheerful flight attendant serve drinks, but she served a hot breakfast. All in less than 45 minutes.

U.S. airlines, all I can say is “you better watch your back.”

Back when Barack Obama was a freshman senator from Illinois, he booked a room at Cape Town’s Table Bay Hotel. Like many celebrities before him, he chose this exclusive hotel on Cape Town’s Victoria & Alfred Waterfront because of its prime location, stellar views and five-star service.

In fact, if you walk around Oscar, the sea lion statue facing the working harbor, you’ll see dozens of gold plaques with names of the many A-listers who have stayed at this gorgeous hotel: Michael Jackson, Charlize Theron, Stevie Wonder, Sarah Ferguson, Chris Rock and Sean Connery, to drop just a few names you may know.

At the time Obama stayed at Table Bay, the hotel was raising money for charity. Every time a notable person checked in, they’d be given paper and pen and asked to contribute a drawing for the upcoming auction. Keith Richards, Aretha Franklin and others quickly scrawled a doodle. But the future president of the United States gave it some thought and ended up contributing a gorgeous side profile of his wife, Michelle.

“After he got elected, we all looked at ourselves and thought, too bad we didn’t hang on to that,” said Sarah Prins, PR manager for the hotel.

Although no one asked me to contribute any drawing and it’s highly unlikely my name will end up on one of the plaques surrounding Oscar, the Seal, I did have the pleasure of staying at this amazing property on a recent visit to Cape Town. And I can easily second the nominations this 329-room property regularly receives for best of the best international hotels.

Three things stood out for me.

1. The windows.Like a model who knows which side to show when the cameras appear, this stunning hotel makes the most of Cape Town’s unparalled beauty with towering windows. One side of windows opens to Table Mountain, the imposing mesa that recently won a spot on the new seven natural wonders list, and the other to Robben Island, the infamous home of Nelson Mandela during much of his 27 years of imprisonment.

2. Location, location, location. Nearly everything is within walking distance—the gorgeous harbor with its cute shops and boutiques, the boat to Robben Island, the brightly-colored Bo-Kaap neighborhood, St. George’s Mall and the Company’s Garden.

3. High tea. I’ve been to some pretty impressive high teas in my years as a travel writer. In fact, last summer I wrote a whole article on the best and most decadent high teas. But this one at Table Bay Hotel may just take the cake…or the chocolate éclairs or the brandied chocolate mousse or the chocolate brioche with baby pear.

Like Prins said, “If only I’d known.”

Figaro, a French newspaper, once said that the French Riveria’s Saint-Tropez has more “famous faces per square mile” than anywhere else on the planet.

Ever since the 50’s when paparazzi began trailing the just-discovered Bridget Bardot, this provincial maritime village has been pulling in the yachts, the Ferraris, the private planes and the flesh and blood versions of the faces we see on the magazine covers.

Beyonce & Jay Z recently pulled into the Cote d’Azur paradise in their 180-foot Italian yacht where they were spotted all over the town: on its narrow, cobblestone streets, on its dazzling beaches and even in its decadent discos.

A breathtaking coastal footpath winds from the original fishing harbor to the hard-partying beaches and their non-stop nightclubs and yet another winds back through pines and eucalyptus to the famous Place des Lices shops selling Armani, Prada, Dior, Pucci and the SuperdryStore where David Beckham and Formula One racing champs hone their hunky images. If it’s a Tuesday or Saturday before noon, the open-air Marche de St-Tropez sells baguettes, Provencal olives and linens, cheeses, herbs and silk brocades.

Hotel Sube, overlooking the famous port, is the town’s oldest and has long been a hangout for artists, writers and other Bohemians. Back in the 20’s, for example, French author Collette fell in love with the sunsets, the Muscat grapes and the rustic wisteria-covered pastel houses.

Or there’s Hotel Byblos, where in 1971 Mick Jagger proposed to Bianca (in room 401, if you must know). They later tied the knot at the Chapel of St.-Anne with scads of paparazzi-snapping away. Jagger and Bardot sightings have tapered off (she still lives here, but mainly in seclusion), but this mythic playground is still good for a glimpse of the entourages of P. Diddy, Tom Cruise, Julia Roberts, Naomi Campbell, Bruce Willis and Ivana Trump.

Just remember, the real stars are the beaches.

Although I didn’t actually hear them yelling “De Plane! De Plane!,” the family of baboons sauntering next to the runway in Hoedspruit, a small airport near Kruger National Park, reminded me of Tattoo welcoming our small prop plane to South Africa.

It was also a promising sign that this safari in Limpopo was going to produce a lot of wildlife for our shutter-clicking group of five girlfriends. Indeed, we soon learned that this airbase turned airport (inside it looked more like a safari lodge than a terminal) had recently stocked cheetahs in a last ditch effort to slow down the warthog population whose insistent root digging on the tarmac kept interrupting landings and take-offs.

By the time we arrived at Kapama River Lodge, our sumptuous digs for the safari, we had christened our group “the Lucky Five,” because we’d already spotted a herd of zebra (only in South Africa, they call them zebb-ra, a pronunciation that we quickly adopted), a half dozen acacia-munching giraffes and enough warthogs that it was easy to understand the decision to install cheetahs.

And that was just the first 15 minutes. Kapama River Lodge, one of four lodges on the 33,000-acre wildlife reserve, one of the largest in South Africa, has the good fortune of being directly across the road from the Hoedspruit airport.

Not that we were in a hurry. Sitting in our open-air Land Rover, being regaled with safari tales by Tim Verreynne, our guide for the trip, we would have been happy to travel another hour or so. Especially when the bounty of animals prompted Skye, one of the Lucky Five, to comment that it was almost like being on a Disney ride. Except these were real animals with real teeth and real claws and real horns that couldn’t be switched off at night when tourists go home.

The real teeth and claws and horns, we soon learned, were the genesis of the title “the Big Five.”

“The Big Five are considered to be the five most dangerous animals in Africa,” Tim explained, proud of the fact that Kapama Reserve can boast all five.

It was also all we needed to agree to Tim’s rules which included “stay in the jeep,” even though it was a little hard to see how our open-air jeep would provide much protection against a charging 8,000-pound rhinoceros.

Still, we were desperate to claim viewing of all five. To do that, we embarked on early morning and late afternoon game drives. And I do mean early morning. A knock on the door (no phones or TV in this five-star lodge) at 5 am meant get ready for coffee, croissants and cruising in the big jeep. Willie, our tracker, sat in the catbird seat that extended out in front of the jeep.

On our first evening game drive, we followed a female lion who had just enjoyed an evening sip from a not-yet dry watering hole. We were within 25 feet as she padded in and out of brush. Check off Number One.

Then we found a momma rhino tending her baby who already had a small horn — and the same thick, prehistoric-looking coat of armor. Number Two.

A herd of elephants and a herd of wallowing water buffaloes — not together, I must add — enabled us to check off three and four. We high-fived, fist-bumped and got pretty cocky about our “Lucky Five” nickname, but we went in after the first two game drives still missing the elusive leopard.

We saw plenty of other wildlife that, even though lacking the Big Five designation, didn’t look like something you’d want to meet alone in a dark alley. We spotted bush babies, hippos, eland, kudu, porcupines, more giraffes and zebra, warthogs and armored male dung beetles that roll their beloved around on tennis ball-sized balls of elephant doo-doo. Kapama, according to Tim, has 42 mammal species and 350 bird species, most of which start singing around 4 am.

When we weren’t on game drives, we enjoyed the spa (nothing like a massage next to rooting warthogs), the two pools, the exquisite food and views of the northern Drakensberg mountain range. Dinner was served every night in the BOMA, a term in Africa that stands for British Officers Mess Area. Open-air, next to a roaring fire, we enjoyed spicy South African soups, fresh game like kudu and impala, locally-sourced salads, South African wine and the unmistakable sounds of the veldt settling down for the evening.

On the last game drive, the Lucky Five warned Tim and Willie, now fast friends, that we weren’t leaving without seeing Number Five, the leopard. By then, we were passing giraffes and elephants like they were the corner 7-11. Not that you can ever really get used to that kind of wild majesty.

Finally, around 6:30 that night, when the sun had dropped below the scrub-dotted landscape, Tim got a call on his radio. Ever-cagey and responding to the call in Afrikaans, one of 11 official languages of South Africa, Tim wouldn’t tell us what we were pursuing, but he promised it might be interesting.

On a game drive, interesting can mean anything from an elephant giving birth to a lion taking down a kudu to a rare animal making its way from Kruger National Park across Kapama’s wide expanse.

After about 15 minutes of badgering Tim to tell us the “surprise,” he pulled the Range Rover off road and proceeded plowing over bushes and small trees, shouting every few minutes or so to lean to the left or duck “because you don’t want that thorn in your bicep” until there it was: a stunning leopard parading across the reserve.

Tim and Willie, who are experts at reading signals, could tell the leopard didn’t feel threatened so we proceeded to follow the stealthy predator for a good 30 minutes, almost close enough to pet the square-ish rosettes on its sleek big-cat back.

That was Number Five. And so the Lucky Five’s good fortune lives on.

Art doesn’t belong behind a red velvet rope and to prove it, Louisville philanthropists Steve Wilson and Laura Lee Brown, opened a 91-room boutique hotel and restaurant around their $10 million contemporary art collection.

Called 21c Museum Hotel, this provocative hotel, regularly voted as one of the best in the country, features not only 9000 square feet of exhibition space, but has original contemporary art in all the rooms, the lobby and even the bathrooms.

Red plastic penguins, the hotel’s mascot, peer down from the roof. An interactive video by Camille Utterbach rains letters onto a mirrored screen next to the elevator, forming poems on guest’s outstretched arms. A 1995 Lincoln Town Car, covered with shiny red glass by artist Monica Mahoney, serves as the hotel limo. It’s called the 21c Pip Mobile.

The lobby floor has a video installation by Abbas Kiarostami of a couple sleeping in bed, the women’s restroom has Sean Bidic’s screens of individual blinking eyes and, in addition to all the regular hotel staff, there’s a full-time curator.

Designed by famed architect Deborah Berke from a string of 19th-century tobacco and bourbon warehouses, this unusual hotel hosts film openings, dance and theater performances and even art classes. The 2500-piece permanent collection, including pieces by Bill Viola, Andres Serrano, Chuck Close, Alfredo Jaar and sculptors Yinka Shonibare and Judy Fox, is open to the public 24/7.

“I love doing this because it’s so unlike a traditional museum,” says Wilson, a former PR man for three Kentucky governors. “It’s so accessible, and that’s what to me contemporary art should be all about.”

On exhibit now are 90 paintings, photographs, sculpture, mixed media and video installations by Cuban artists.

Proof on Main, the hotel’s award-winning restaurant, offers inventive dishes by Chef Michael Paley and more than 50 Kentucky bourbons. Laura Lee, not surprisingly, is heir to Forman-Brown, one of the largest liquor and wine companies in the world including Jack Daniels, Southern Comfort and Finlandia Vodka.

The rooms, many with exposed brick walls, are spacious with high ceilings, custom furniture, silver mint julep cups and an iPod docking station with a audio tour of guess what? The hotel’s art collection.

Trace Adkins woke me up this morning. After hearing about his second wife Julie who shot him through the lungs and heart in 2004, I’m glad it wasn’t in person. Or that his daughters didn’t have to know.

The country star and runner-up on Celebrity Apprentice called my room at Nashville’s Opryland Resort and urged me to get my day on. The day before, I was awakened by Vince Gill (sorry Amy) with the same “Rise and Shine” message. In fact, if I’d stayed long enough, I could have also been roused out of bed by George Jones, Wynonna Judd and a whole cast of country singers.

“Waking with the Stars” is just one of the perks of staying at this Nashville institution, one of the biggest hotels in America. In fact, if you look at sheer acreage, Nashville’s Opryland is top dog with only a few Vegas hotels ringing in with more rooms.

And what acreage it is, filled with waterfalls, trees, a river and tropical vegetation that, if it wasn’t for the 2881 rooms and the people who fill them, could almost qualify as Biosphere 3 or 4 or whatever number they are on now. And since this opulent resort grew out of Opryland USA, a now defunct theme park that once catered to an audience of 2.5 million, it really knows how to roll out the red carpet.

Daily light and fountain shows, as well as Delta flat boat rides where guides proffer little-known facts about the hotel’s nine acres of flora and fauna are just a few of the daily activities. There are nine restaurants and bars and lavish suites that have welcomed the first President Bush and his wife (they celebrated one of their anniversaries there), Kim Kardashian, Kid Rock, Jim Carrey, Macaulay Culkin, Bill Cosby and Ted Koppel, to give just a small sampling.

Of course, at Christmas, this fantasyland even outdoes the North Pole. From November 18 to January 3, Gaylord Opryland will feature ICE! and DreamWorks’ Merry Madagascar. And as for those phone calls from the country stars, they’ll be joined by wake up calls from Madagascar’s Marty, Alex, Gloria and Melman. www.gaylordopryland.com or call 1-888-999-OPRY (6779).

Paul McCartney, who married New Jersey heiress Nancy Shevell on October 9, is “getting by with a little help from his friends.”

Well, getting by is a bit of an understatement. After tying the knot on what would have been John Lennon’s 71st birthday, McCartney and Shevell are actually “living big” on their honeymoon at Mick Jagger’s Japanese-style, six-bedroom home in Mustique.

Since paparazzi are banned from this privately-owned island, the happy couple are enjoying some down time far from headlines. Their small family wedding, held on the steps of London’s Marylebone Register Office, the same place McCartney married Linda, included 30 some family members who showered the engaged-since-May couple with rose petals. Beatrice, McCartney’s daughter with Heather Mills, was the flower girl and Stella, his daughter with Linda, designed the wedding dress. And in true, Paul McCartney fashion, he sang a beautiful ballad for his new bride.

As for the private honeymoon at fellow musician’s Mustique retreat, McCartney and bride are enjoying the koi pond, the pavilions and the roar of the ocean that back up to the rambling villa.

And, of course, they’ve been unable to resist a stop-off at Basil’s Bar, the former rum shack where everyone from Prince William (he drank Prince’s Poison and, with a couple friends, belted out Elvis Presley’s “Suspicious Minds”) to the Beckhams (no report on their drink of choice) have knocked back a cocktail or two.

With little more than 500 or so permanent residents, this exclusive island, a short 50-minute flight from Barbados, became a hotspot for the glitterati after Scottish aristocrat Colin Tennant, who bought the whole island in 1958, presented Princess Margaret with a 10-acre parcel of it as a wedding present.

It was also Tennant that gave Basil Charles, the now well-known owner of Basil’s Bar, his start. Born to a poor family on nearby St. Vincent’s, Charles was hired by Tennant in the 60’s as a barman at the Cotton House, at that time, the island’s only hotel. Charles, who was able to charm the mercurial Tennant, ended up marrying British aristocrat Virginia Lyon Royston soon after her husband died unexpectedly in 1973, chumming around with Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon and eventually buying out the open-faced beach club that today reigns as the heartbeat of Mustique night life.

Like the McCartneys, most guests to Mustique rent out private villas, mostly-owned by people whose names you’d recognize. More like compounds than villas, these pricy properties come with between two to nine bedrooms, a full staff including a butler and a “mule,” the island term for a golf cart which is how people get around the three by one-mile island.

Others who have enjoyed Mustique’s laidback vibe include Hugh Grant, Jennifer Lopez, Jennifer Aniston, Paul Newman, Amy Winehouse and about every pedigreed royal in the United Kingdom. At Christmas, Jagger has even been known to dress like an elf and pass out treats to needy kids.

Ozzy Osbourne, Eminem, Alanis Morissette and Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth are just a few who call themselves fans of Glengoyne Scotch Whisky.

If you, too, are one of those Scotch geeks that swears by having a wee drink every now and again, you may have already made the pilgrimage to the motherland. Chances are you’ve visited at least a few of Scotland’s 100 plus whiskey distilleries and know that if the snifter in front of you smells of peat and salt air it comes from the isle of Islay, if it’s uber sweet it’s probably from Speyside and if there’s fruit and smoke, it’s likely a single malt from the Highlands.

Now, thanks to the Glengoyne Distillery near Loch Lomond in the Scottish Highlands, 15 minutes north of Glasgow, you can extend your whisky education even further. This prestigious distillery invites whisky pilgrims in for one of six classes in learning how to blend scotch. They call it “getting inside the barrel.”

The two-hour Master Blender class teaches stillman wannabe’s how to create their own blend. Not only will you sample award-winning 17-year-old Single Highland Malts and visit the bonded warehouses, but you’ll go home with your own self-made 100 ml bottle.

Or if you’re ready for your Ph.D., sign up for the Masterclass which includes nearly a whole day of whisky tasting, touring, talks and personalized blending. In this class, you’ll leave with a 200 ml bottle of your own making, a personalized bottle of 10-year-old Single Highland malt, a certificate and a cellar book.

In both classes, you’ll visit the Sample Room with its walls lined with whiskies at different stages of maturation, the Club Room that was designed by the hip Glascow design firm Timorous Beasties (known for its surreal and provocate textiles and wallpapers, the firm got its name from the Robert Burns poem, To a Mouse) and the Board Room, all of which used to be the Manager’s House.

Although it started long before (when distilleries where illegal and hid in secret coves of the Highlands), Glengoyne Distillery has officially been making Scotch whisky since 1833. It’s just down the road from the 15th-century Duntreath Castle with its medival stocks and dungeons, near the area where Scotland’s own Robin Hood (Rob Roy) valiantly fought the British aristocracy.

Often considered “the most scenic distillery in Scotland,” Glengoyne gathers its water from a 60-foot waterfall gliding down from the Campie Hills.

But watch out. Bill McDowell was a news editor at The Glasgow Herald when he first signed on for a masterclass. He fell so “head over heels” with the whisky, the distillery and the folks who make it, that he ditched his prestigious new job and signed on to become a Glengoyne stillman.

If you don’t want to make the drive down scenic A81, Glengoyne graciously offers its own helipad. If you’re just interested in a simple wee tasting tour, offered every hour on the hour, you can simply show up. But if you want to take either class, it’s imperative to call ahead for reservations.

Glengoyne Distillery, Dumgoyne, Near Killearn, Glasgow G63 9LB t.+44 (0)1360 550 254.