Category Archives: Peregrinations

Just a fabulous meal in Altitude, on the top of the Shangri-La, preceded by a drink in Blu, with spectacular views of the harbor. I’m entertaining the first 12 registrants for my Sydney workshop here on Tuesday evening, so I gave it a test run. Superb food, finely prepared, with highly attentive service.

My waiter was from Punjab, in Sydney for six years. The hostess was Japanese. The world is fascinating.

I may see a ballet at the Opera House tomorrow if I can score decent tickets. The word here is that the Qantas unions my try to reverse the legal decision and strike again, so I’ll also have to look for new backup flights home.

The best TV here remains American reruns, but they are selective: The Closer, Law & Order, Rizzoli and Isles, The Mentalist, Cold Case—nice choices.

The Shangri-La provides you with pajamas! This corner suite is wonderful, with striking views. I had to shake a few cages because it took so long to move me in, so a manager was dispatched to fetch me, along with a bellman. In the suite, the bellman adamantly refused a tip, telling me, “It’s not usual here and we’re well paid.” I actually found that more pretentious than simply accepting my offer of $5!

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

It’s 4.5 hours to touchdown in Sydney. We’re at 36,000 feet above the Pacific. Three of us appear to be awake in the 14-seat first class cabin, which is filled.

I took 1.5 hours to acclimate, read, and have a light dinner, then went to sleep. This is not something you can do yourself, other than put on the pajamas, socks, and slippers you’re provided. The flight attendant turns the seat into a flat bed, with a mattress, top sheet, and quilt. There is also a blanket, a large pillow, and a smaller pillow.

I slept for six hours, awoke with 6 hours left in the trip. A computer screen to my right keeps me apprised of the remaining time until landing. It also controls everything electronically, even my window shades. The seat can be adjusted 20 ways, but also has six “presets” so you don’t have to think about it (e.g., “dining,” “read in bed,” and so on). There is an American outlet that powers all my stuff. My semi-private cubicle is about 25 square feet. There’s a visitor’s seat in case I want to have dinner with someone!

The flight attendant brought some tea and I completed the first of the two book chapters I wanted to get to. That took about 90 minutes, including a couple of breaks.

We landed smack on time in Sydney, and in the A380 it’s like a New York high rise alighting. The huge thing is amazingly quiet. It weighs as much as a naval escort vessel and I’m shocked that runways can sustain it.

My express pass from Qantas took me through immigration faster than those with Australian passports, the bags were coming out by the time I reached the carousel, and customs then waived me through. The driver was in the right place with the right sign, and 30 minutes later I was in the Shangri-La in a temporary room, until my suite is ready. In another 30 minutes, I was in the spa having a massage, a great thing to do right after international travel.

I’m staring a Sydney Harbor. And I’m trying to remain awake and coherent through dinner so that I can have a normal sleep!

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

I left at 7 am in a stretch limo for Boston. Traffic was horrible and almost two hours later, we finally arrived at Logan Airport. (This is why I make it a point to leave much earlier than is required almost all the time.)

A redcap arrived at the limo’s trunk before I even opened my door. He informed me that as of one week ago, American Airlines can curbside check any bag to any global destination. Five minutes later he had checked my passport and Australian visa, and marked my bag for Chicago, Los Angeles, and Sydney. (Let’s hope a later post here reflects its positive fate!) He was great. I tipped him ten dollars and he actually gave me a slight bow. He then directed me to the first class security line, inside.

Security required about five minutes, and I settled into the Admiral’s Club, about a minute from my gate. I began writing, was advised by Flight Tracker on my iPhone that my flight was slightly delayed (which was a lie), and charged everything I own that has a power cord.

I was served a burger (my choice) in first class, and we bounced all over the skies coming into Chicago, where it’s been raining and is seriously overcast. A lot of flights were cancelled. I had allowed a three-hour layover, just in case. But my LA flight has left on time. I’m not writing this at 36,000 feet, waiting for my dinner—an enchilada—and munching on cashews with my vodka tonic. This is a big, honking 767, and the seats are so complicated that in attempting to open the tray table I knocked over my seatmate’s drink glass which, thank the fates, was empty.

I plan to write two complete book chapters during this 10-day trip to Sydney and Melbourne, which will finish my co-writing responsibilities with Omar Khan for our new book, Who’s Got Your Back? I’ll then have a four hour layover in LAX until my Qantas flight on the giant A380 to Sydney. I’ll hang out in Qantas’s club, which memory tells me is pretty good.

My lap top is plugged into a seat power strip. I have three books on my iPad I plan to finish during the trip. I’ve just finished the outline for the Art of the Referral Workshop on November 30 in Newport (it’s going to be fabulous, almost 100 percent experiential). I think people will be quite pleased with it.

Dinner is coming, I’ll be back later. Right now I’ve been awake for 12 hours and have been traveling for 7 hours.

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I was waiting for the rest room and talking to three of the flight attendants when a black dog walked through our gathering. It was a service dog we had seen board the flight, but his vest was off (“working dog”) and he is clearly not meant to wander the aisles! I’ve never seen this before. I wonder if he was looking for a fire hydrant.

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I’m ensconced in the Qantas first class lounge, Huge assortment of food, which is tempting but a bit of an overload since the flight will have all kinds of food. I read somewhere that only 1,000 Americans fly to Australia on any given day, which is considered quite low. (The plane holds about 500, but obviously not solely Americans.)

I tried to get on Hulu to watch some TV on my computer, but I was told that they aren’t allowed to broadcast outside of the country! I guess this must be Australian soil within LAX!

I’ll travel roughly10,000 miles today before I’m finally in a conventional bed again. Yet I watch the airport bus drivers transporting us between terminals late at night, and the security people at 24-hour airports, and the employees of concourse shops open until midnight—and I realize that their day is a lot more wearying in a lot more ways than mine, despite traveling halfway around the world.

I changed money outside the club, and for the first time in 30 years over 16 visits, the Australian dollar is stronger than the US dollar. My compliments to the Aussies!

I’ll be back here tomorrow, if I don’t sleep the entire day.

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

I’ve published some of the findings from this fourth annual meeting, and more will come. Courtesy of Chad Barr, here are some glimpses of the meeting.

Left to right: Guido Quelle, Susanne Quelle, Suzanne Bates, Drew Yarro, Maria Weiss, Alan Weiss, Chad Barr, Stuart Cross, Phil Symchych, Kerri Symchych, Wendy Nour, David Nour

Getting my hair cut while eating pasts at Il Taverno di Poppagallo.

Typical crowd at the parking lot. That Bentley in the foreground is the same color as mine, but has a smaller engine.

Chad and I at the poolside reception.

Chad, Stuart, Phil, Kerri, Guido, Susanne.

Don Alfonso Restaurant is in the village of Sant’Agata sui due Golfi (between two gulfs, Salerno and Napoli). It was recommended to me by my colleague and mentor member, Angie Katselianos, in Milan. She called it, “one of the three great restaurants in Italy.”

Although it was more than an hour’s drive on winding roads from Amalfi, we hired a car and driver and took the trip. As a result, we dined in what is now one of my ten favorite restaurants in the world, an equal of Per Se, French Laundry, Gary Danko, True, and their ilk.

Don Alfonso’s son, Mario Iaccarino, personally greeted us and chatted during the evening. It is the only restaurant we dined in during our trip (to four world-class properties) in Italy where most men wore jackets. The atmosphere is convivial and very elegant. We were seated at 8 and departed at 10:30. This is not a place that hurries you.

I can’t do justice to the incredible food that was served, except to say that the ingredients are fresh, recipes original, and presentation exquisite. The wine list would require a full night to appreciate. After my selection, the sommelier said, “Ah, you don’t need me,” which was a very gracious lie.

After dinner, we received a tour of the kitchen and were introduced to another son, Ernesto, who rules the kitchen, which was as spotless as an operating theater. There must have been a dozen chefs hustling, smiling, producing amazing dishes.

We were then escorted to the wine cellar, carved out within volcanic rock, as an ancient Etruscan escape route more than 2,000 years old. As I descended on roughly-hewn rock steps, with walls dripping moisture, surrounded by “chapels” of incredible wines, I considered simply staying. How long would it take to consume 25,000 bottles?

Finally, after five minutes or so (it was much faster going down than returning), I arrived at a spiral staircase which took me to the lowest point, 40 meters underground. There, provolone hung from rafters until it aged properly. Now that I had cheese and wine, if I could find a little bread, I was definitely not surfacing.

Mario gave us some gifts to take home, and the drive back was spent talking about a singular adventure. If you ever have the chance, visit Don Alfonso (http://www.donalfonso.com/en/index.htm).

Tell Mario I sent you.

In the kitchen

With Ernesto.

Are some missing?

The light at the top of the tunnel.

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

My lap top stopped working in Capri, so I soldiered on with my iPad and iPhone, but didn’t post here as frequently as I might have. The lap top is now fine (fried power cord) and I’m on the desk top. Here are some photos (our of hundreds) and some more reflections.

My wife and I have been all over the world. We’ve piloted the Goodyear Blimp, had such a large presidential suite in Bangkok that we couldn’t find each other (and agreed to meet at the grand piano), crossed the Atlantic on the largest suite on the seas on the Queen Mary II, climbed Mexican pyramids, and so on. I tell you that, because this trip to Italy, probably our tenth, was one of our very best, ever.

We stayed in four world-class properties (Baglioni in Milan, Aminta Resort in Stresa, Santa Caterina in Amalfi, Quisisana in Capri) and dined in both Michelin restaurants and local tavernas. We saw The Last Supper and visited La Scala, roamed around Pompei and sailed back and forth to Capri. Amalfi is like Shangri-La, hard to believe it exists.

I’ll focus on the final days of the trip in Capri. The Quisisana is a super-luxury property in Capri itself (as opposed to Anacapri) with more luxury stores in the streets per square foot than you can count, but mixed in with an assortment of cafés, gardens, winding paths, and so on. The walking is a test with steep hills, but the sheer beauty and charm of the place are staggering. You can have a cup of espresso, or buy an outfit for $35,000. (I found throughout Italy that once you took a seat anywhere, you were spending at least $40 and usually much more!)

Air France did a marvelous job and on returning last night from Paris, we walked only 60 seconds to immigration (like all foreign carriers, the flight attendants allow first class and business class to exit before the rest of the plane), found our luggage already on the carousel, breezed through customs and found our driver outside—eight minutes after leaving the plane! My kudos to Boston, which is providing a nice welcome to the US. (I’m a Global Entry member but we’ve yet to sign up my wife, who doesn’t take kindly to my using a faster line!).

We’re returning next year. Here’s why:

At the amphitheater in Pompei, right after my speech to test the acoustics (pro bono).

A cast from one of the victims in Pompei. Lava never reached the city, but ash covered it.

The entry to our suite in the Quisisana, with more rooms beyond.

Part of our huge balcony in Capri overlooking the Bay of Naples.

Amalfi, from the ferry pier.

We take the ferry to Capri later this morning. Yesterday, we hired a private guide to take us around Pompei. That was staggering.

We walked through a house that was five times the size of the one we now live in. The public baths had steam heat, warm massages, and intricate piping. The ceiling was ribbed so that water trickled down to the walls and didn’t drip on the customers.

We visited a house of ill repute, where the erotic art work remained. “Were those instructions?” I wondered. “That was the menu,” said our guide.

I stood in an amphitheater, on the exact spot the guide indicated, and heard my voice amplified around the arena, an opportunity most professional speakers don’t have. It’s a miracle of engineering. “How did the Romans figure this out?” I asked. The guide whispered to me, as if committing heresy, “It was the Greeks!”

Do you know that no lava ever reached Pompei from Vesuvius? It was ash that buried the city and the inhabitants who did not flee in time.

We dined in Amalfi at Caravella last night. Restaurants don’t book until 8 pm, then expect you to linger for a couple of hours. There are no “turns” and second seatings as a rule. The restaurant, of course, is on the side of a hill, so the cab merely stops in the narrow street, while we get out and pay, holding our breath as traffic around us gathers.

The three-minute cab ride was ten Euros, which is about $12. In any restaurant on this trip, it’s impossible for two people to dine for less than $150, before wine. Cable car tickets in Stresa were $55 and admission to Pompei was $15. Even small cafes will charge $7 or more for coffee.

Carolyn, our guide, told us that there is too much unemployment but that tourism is only slightly down so far this year. That can be remedied. Everyone needs to see Italy at least once. As my wife said, out loud, walking down a crowded street in Milan, “I’m so glad I’m Italian!”

© Alan Weiss 2011. All rights reserved.

A rooster awoke us this morning, we had breakfast overlooking the Gulf of Solerno, and attended services at the Duomo, originally built in the 1200s. We spend the day at the pool and sea after some sightseeing in town.

Dinner last night was stuffed squid followed by very lightly fried fish. We had an outstanding Brunello Montepulciano ’94.

The “Amalfi Coast” has always had an exotic ring to it, and I hoped I wouldn’t be disappointed. In fact, words and even photos cannot do justice to this  part of the world. The houses clutch the walls of the hills like bats, and you expect them to fly off into the night. The streets are impossibly narrow, yet tour buses fly through. The food is magnificent (I’ve never had a bad meal in Italy, and that included eating raw eel recently pulled out of the Po River on one trip.)

There is a charm here—part scenic, part interpersonal—that is captivating. Tomorrow we have a driver/guide to show us Pompei. Then we have to arrange a boat for Tuesday and our trip to Capri.

Some scenes here over the past couple of days.

The Million Dollar Club boat on Lago Maggiore.

One of our meeting rooms. Note the Ferrari outside the window.

A view of the docks from our balcony in Amalfi.

The path from our villa.

The Duomo. Note the steps. Later we found you could walk up the hill and enter from the side!

The town clutching the hillsides.