It might look like the ultimate in overprivileged Orange County go-karts, but this is not a toy. It’s the car of the future: the electric Tesla. I’ve read about it – fantasizedÂ about it even – but until now I’ve yet to see one up close. Lucky me then that the outdoor shopping mall in Newport Beach happened to have a Tesla Motors showroom nestled in between the Native Food Cafe and Neiman Marcus. With a trunk in both the front and the back it’s asÂ mind-bogglingÂ as you’d expect. And despite a display of the bare chassis and battery, I kept wondering well, where is the big carbon-belching, environment-destroying combustion engine? Oh, that’s right, there isn’t one. As sexy as the two-seater Roadster looks it’s a bit difficult to get into. (You want to feel fat? Try getting out.) Much more practical is the Model S, a four door family sedan. Anyone who knows me is likely laughing at this point. I don’t even have a license, let alone a car. Yet there’s something about this automobile that excites my imagination: it’s revolutionary – and it works. (Having conquered the the electric car, Tesla Motors founder Elon Musk has his sights on interplanetary travel next.) They all laughed at Christopher Columbus, to quote Ira Gershwin. But ha, ha, ha, I really do hope it’s Musk who gets the last laugh now.
Franceâ€™s biggest black truffle market takes over the town of Richerenches in Provence this weekend. A seductive delicacy â€“ and quite possibly one of my favorite things on the planet â€“ black truffles are an exotic treat due in part to their elusiveness and exorbitant price, but itâ€™s the unmistakably musky, hypnotic scent that drives us gastronomes wild. (Although the erotic and healing properties of truffles are probably completely anecdotal, their singular reputation contributes to the continuing allure.) On November 17th the Brotherhood of the Black Truffle brings together trufficulteurs, restaurants, and fungus aficionados to revel in the seasonâ€™s first winter truffles with demonstrations by talented truffle-hunting dogs, free tastings, and a giant truffle omelette. I can almost smell it across the Atlantic.
In case you’re wondering why I have virtually no desire to leave my suite, maybe I should share with you where it is I am exactly;Â Rosewood Mayakoba, about 40Â minutesÂ south of Cancun along the Riviera Maya.Â On arrival I was transported by a luxury boat to what amounts to my own personal sanctuary: aÂ one-of-a-kind over-water suiteÂ of crisp, open spaces, floating graciously over the lagoon’s emerald waters. Strikingly modern in design yet crafted from such indigenous materials as to appear born of the jungle, I haveÂ an inviting lounge terrace with a plunge pool, a luxurious bathroom with an outdoor garden shower, and spectacular views of the lagoon and mangroves. Sure, the sea is calling my name – but I don’t feel compelled to move a muscle just yet.