Richard Juhlin on tour – summer of ’25. [ read the full champagne story ]
Estimated reading time: 16 minutes
Well, that was a cryptic title that sparks curiosity, isn’t it?
Richard Juhlin
What I’ve been pondering a bit is how certain travel destinations and places manage to retain their radiance while others fade over time. It is especially strange when you consider that nature has rarely changed at all, and hardly the weather either, save for a degree or two. Sometimes political changes provide a boost. I remember, for example, my three training camps in former Yugoslavia in the 1970s and 80s, where the springtime landscape awakened our spirits, but humanity’s imprint horrified us. Today, Croatia’s turquoise waters and lush greenery are accompanied by a tourism climate and a level of service we never saw a trace of back when we shoveled down our inedible powdered soup in the communist-run hotels, which back then looked more like prisons.
The collapse of empires …
If we go far back in history, nearly all high civilizations collapsed shortly after their peak of flourishing. Rome has stood firm since the Roman Empire, but Mesopotamia, Delphi, Carthage, Babylon, Jericho, Alexandria, and Birka today at best only offer archaeological remains. When it comes to modern tourist resorts, many factors of popularity come into play. Sometimes it is as simple as one or two celebrities voicing their admiration for a place, and suddenly it gathers hordes of followers. In Mallorca—a tourist destination that has managed to retain its allure since the late 1950s—influencers post selfies from small, beautiful strips of beach that suddenly become crowded with people who don’t even look at nature but only want to take a picture to show they’ve been there too. A sad phenomenon that Pål and I often encountered when visiting the most famous of our Champagne Hiking spots. Hallstatt in Austria was beautiful, but just one of hundreds of similar alpine villages, where the others are completely free of tourists while half of Asia crowds onto the same photo spot in Hallstatt.
If we leave specific places aside and instead look at destinations, I have often found wonderful spots where one can hike in solitude and marvel at both the beauty and the town’s low prices. Meanwhile, other destinations seem able to lure everyone with fat wallets, regardless of hotel and restaurant prices. The Italians are masters at adjusting the price level to the purchasing power of the tourist stream. In Capri, everything is three times as expensive as on the neighboring volcanic islands of Ischia and Procida. Portofino, among the priciest of all places, is twice as expensive as the neighboring village of Santa Margherita Ligure, and four times as expensive as the next town Rapallo. The same phenomenon occurs in Cinque Terre. Outside the five original villages one can find both hotel rooms and bathing bays without crowds and at humane prices, while Manarola and Riomaggiore today are chaotic and outrageously expensive. On the Amalfi Coast, Positano, Sorrento, and Ravello are just as overcrowded with tourists willing to pay anything to mingle with other successful people. It’s crazy what herd animals we humans are!
I love the French Riviera, but the question is whether I will ever choose to go there again, having realized this summer that hotel prices have doubled in three years and in some cases increased tenfold in fifteen years.
Richard Juhlin
If you just go a few miles into the Provençal mountains, the price level is humane and reasonable. If, like our family, you must stay by the sea, there is the Portuguese Atlantic coast, Algarve, Brittany, Normandy, Arcachon, and Biarritz. If one insists that only the Mediterranean is swimmable, we have Croatia, Montenegro, Corsica, Ibiza, and the Greek islands. If it absolutely has to be a Riviera, it’s just a few miles to San Remo and Ventimiglia on the Italian side. In Cannes and Nice you can of course stay in an apartment, but if you, like us, want to be pampered at a four- or five-star hotel, the heart of the French Riviera is a ridiculously overpriced joke in high season. The luxury hotels in Antibes, Cannes, and Saint-Tropez are very nice, but they do not rank highest on my personal experience scale, and the question is whether those towns are the most beautiful and pleasant in the region. No, we headed a bit farther towards Marseille, where it is calmer and, in our eyes, in fact even more beautiful nature.
Rayol-Canadel-sûr-Mer
For the second time, thanks to Per Jidekrans at Sweden’s foremost travel agency Go-in-Style, we ended up in Rayol-Canadel-sur-Mer. The first time we stayed high up on the mountain ridge at La Villa Douce, with a breathtaking view over the Îles d’Hyères and Cavalière. This time, we stayed directly on the beach at Hôtel La Bailli de Suffren. Fortunately, it was only a four-star hotel, so the painful price level was significantly lower than comparable hotels in the neighboring villages. The location is incredible, with direct access to a wonderful sandy beach where we spent half of each day. The atmosphere was relaxed and family-oriented. Here we had a delightful oasis in our own little bubble during two lovely weeks of vacation. The only downside was an overwhelming number of wasps that drove the children away from meals and often forced us to finish dinner indoors. The scariest of them all, at first glance, was Europe’s largest hornet, the Asian giant hornet. Frightening with its 6 cm long black-and-yellow striped body, but nearly harmless. Ragni and the children took long swims and snorkeling trips, while I—once a skilled swimmer and lifeguard—have become timid and now only swim where I can touch the bottom. What happened? It’s not the body but the mind that says stop. Training went smoothly, though, and for the first time in two years I could sprint again and dream of more veteran medals at the National Sprint Championships—until I received the sad result from my MRI scan, which showed I need a meniscus operation.
Rayol also lies in the middle of a fantastically beautiful 50-kilometer cycling stretch, which I enjoyed a couple of times. Between Saint-Tropez and Le Lavandou, the terrain is extremely hilly and breathtakingly beautiful. Somehow, they have managed to build a cycle path almost completely without steep climbs, allowing one to ride at one’s own pace among magnificent French fjords and subtropical wooded areas.
In the relatively cool temperatures this summer, we perhaps should have gone on more Champagne Hikings. But Ragni is not much of a wine drinker, and I was already fairly saturated after our lavish champagne excursions in southern Italy the week before, so I drank more and finer wines at Michelin-starred restaurants than in the inviting countryside. Still, we did enjoy a memorable Champagne Hiking on the beach where we stayed, with a 2002 Moët & Chandon, and we also made a lovely reprise from the Hiking book. Instead of Guy Charlemagne Mesnillésime on Porquerolles, we drank a 2019 Pascal Agrapart Minéral on the even wilder neighboring island, the car-free Port-Cros.
Michelin restaurant – La Voile at La Réserve in Ramatuelle
The most famous Michelin restaurant we visited was La Voile at La Réserve in Ramatuelle. My good Swiss friend Michel Reybier is beautifully spreading his tentacles with yet another improbably luxurious world-class hotel. The location, with views over the Bay of Saint-Tropez, and the architects’ successful creation are a delight to behold. Here there are all the conditions needed to create a three-star oasis. The entire atmosphere, including the service, felt exactly like that. Unfortunately, however, the food was no more than one-star level, so I only just reluctantly accepted the two stars they currently hold. Not nearly as beautifully located or with the same sense of exclusivity was the nearby Colette, housed in Hotel Sezz on the outskirts of Saint-Tropez. But the food and the chef were, instead, a notch sharper.
As so often these days on our trips, it was my 12-year-old son Leo who kept me company. His gourmet interest is fascinatingly developed, something the skilled chef Philippe Colinet noticed. We had chef’s table seating, and Leo in particular received special attention, engaging in long discussions about different gastronomic philosophies. If Leo’s plans to become Sweden’s next Truls Möregårdh should fail, he has already decided that he will attend culinary school in Lyon when he turns 18.
Another evening, Leo and I were going to dine at a newly starred restaurant that, on the map, looked to be just a stone’s throw from Rayol. What we failed to see was that to get there, one had to either cross the Provençal mountains on serpentine roads or drive around them. A journey that suddenly became 60 kilometers long. The price for a round-trip taxi, like almost everything on the Riviera these days, was outrageous: 1,200 euros. So it had to be our own car and a sober dinner at Chez Jeanette in Peyrassol. With a glass of Condrieu at the start of the meal, a brilliant tomato composition and pork cheek were washed down. The restaurateur family, in the middle of nowhere, told us they were shocked when their seemingly simple outdoor restaurant among the vineyards was unexpectedly awarded the fine recognition in the Red Guide. We loved the place. In many ways, it reminded me of our old summer house in Roslagen, on one of those rare summer evenings when one can sit outside without pulling out the down jacket. Our wheat field was replaced by artichokes and Grenache grapes. The nasty Swedish mosquitoes were absent, and the velvet night caressed us all while the moon replaced the sun with its gentle, subtle light. The number of dishes was fewer than we were used to, but the flavor quality and authenticity were exemplary.
On our last evening we went to our old beloved Club Cavalière and ordered a 2002 Lanson Vinothèque with foie gras and summer truffles while listening to the Mediterranean waves bidding farewell in the sunset.
Island of Öland and home coming
When we came home, two lovely weeks of Swedish summer had already flown by, and the prematurely autumnal weather greeted us with all its harsh prickliness. With only one week left of the children’s summer holiday, I’d had enough. Leo was easily persuaded. The two of us would set off to breathe in the last sigh of summer on the legendary summer island of Öland. Sweden’s second-largest island which, in contrast to its immensely popular twin island Gotland, has lost much of its former glory.
Today, politicians and the social elite first make their pilgrimage to Almedalen Week in the medieval town of Visby on Gotland at the beginning of summer. After that comes a buffalo herd of young Stockholmers who party hard during Stockholm Week, before the same crowd heads to Tennis Week in Båstad, Party Week in Saint-Tropez, or some other agreed-upon location on the Mediterranean. Poor Öland. All it has left is Victoria Day in mid-July, when Sweden’s sports and entertainment elite gather in Borgholm to celebrate Crown Princess Victoria at Solliden, where the royal family still has its summer residence.
What happened? Why was Öland forgotten? Personally, I’ve always thought that Gotland is even more beautiful and has more to offer than Öland, but the difference between these unique limestone islands is fine, and to a large extent a matter of taste.
One of Öland’s true advantages is that it is more accessible, thanks to its bridge connection to the mainland. When the King inaugurated the Öland Bridge in 1972, it was Europe’s longest bridge. The excitement was enormous, and since the King was then in his best party years and had his beloved Solliden, he brought his entire entourage across the bridge and into the streets of Borgholm. The entire party set from Café Opera followed along, and suddenly Öland became a party mecca for Swedes. Borgholm Castle Ruins became the venue for big artist lineups and legendary rock concerts. In 1986, Björn Skifs launched the summer festival Badrock, and everyone wanted to be part of it—both on stage and in the party frenzy of Borgholm’s clubs and bars.
Hotel Borgholm
The hub of activities became Hotel Borgholm, an inn from 1821 that changed its name precisely in 1972. The whole of Borgholm blossomed, and the celebrity-packed party town had one restaurant that attracted more guests than the others. When Owe Fransson, the man behind the hotel’s success, met Karin from Germany on Midsummer’s Eve 1976, it was love at first sight. Karin Fransson, as she later came to be known, became an icon in Swedish gastronomy, and countless of today’s star chefs have trained under her. Locally produced herbs, flowers, and vegetables may not sound unique today, but in our country she was the first to apply that philosophy. In 2016, Hotel Borgholm received the first Michelin star outside of Sweden’s three largest cities. Partly thanks to the fantastic wine cellar Owe had built over the years, but primarily through Karin’s eye for detail and pioneering style. With the Michelin star in hand, it seemed as though the Franssons’ ultimate goal had been achieved, and shortly thereafter she was ready to hang up her apron and let a top chef from the new generation take over.
This is where Christofer Johansson, who ran the acclaimed Eksgården a bit further south on the island, enters the picture. He and his colleague and patron Daniel Olsson did not hesitate when the offer came, but took over with the same high ambitions as Karin had. The star disappeared with the chef, and some tough years followed with the pandemic and declining visitor numbers, but Christofer refused to give up and regained the Michelin star in 2021.
When Leo and I called to book restaurants and hotels at the end of August, we were surprised to hear that everyone said it was the last day they were open, as the season was coming to its all-too-early end. Could that really be true? When, in brilliant sunshine, we went for a jog through Borgholm’s center, we were struck by how empty it was, and by the number of elderly people dominating the windows and park benches in the quaint little town. We were also almost alone at the elegant hotel. After some comical electric car charging issues, which often arise for an app-blind champagne expert with two left hands, we toured the entire island and explored every sandy beach and rauk formation worth its name. Castles, ancient monuments, the barren Alvar plain, beetle oases, oak groves, and bird-rich lighthouses are all on the menu when Öland is to be explored.
The only thing that disturbed us was that it was virtually impossible to access the deserted sandy beaches without passing through a massive horde of caravans and tents at the countless campgrounds that today are the island’s big cash cow. Öland has thus gone from being a sophisticated royal holiday destination with a Michelin-starred restaurant to a German-dominated camping sprawl in the best Lasse Åberg style. At Böda, Sweden’s longest sandy beach and largest camping site, Germans and Dutch happily crowd together, chewing their hot dogs and meatballs to the scent of lighter fluid, sweaty undershirts, and cheap women’s perfume, with the year’s Eurovision winner blasting from the speakers. A world foreign to us and, in our eyes, a sad form of environmental destruction.
The last Öland evenings, the meeting with Christofer, Naya Resort and the final reflections
When we had this year’s last outdoor dinner in Hotel Borgholm’s legendary herb garden, we were initially disappointed by the short menu, but extra pleased when what was served was of the highest class in exactly the clean and chlorophyll-rich style I had imagined. It went so far that I felt compelled to break my three-week-long alcohol-free period with a large white Burgundy to accompany the cod loin with the garden’s vegetable symphony. Just as we were about to go to bed, the staff realized that I was the man whose name adorned the non-alcoholic wines that had been their best friend during pregnancies. The genuine joy that a gastro-personality appeared on their last evening of the season was unmistakable.
The next day, we were invited to Christofer’s home for a lavish Sunday dinner with a successful blind tasting. The conversations we had that evening inspired me to write this text. It was fascinating to hear about Öland’s enormous potential and how tough it is right now to restore the once fine reputation the island had. He further told us that Borgholm has the oldest population in the country and that most of the elderly men and women peering out at us through the windows were once the party elite who danced to Björn Skifs and Blåblus’s “Hooked on a Feeling.” We are all headed that way. For many, Björn Borg is already just an underwear brand, and soon Zlatan’s bicycle kicks will be forgotten, with only his perfume left to exude his confident ego. I also have no great hopes that my books or champagne exploits will go down in history. At best, perhaps my avatar “The Nose” will live on, without people realizing that it once was a real man of flesh and blood who formed the knowledge base they use when looking for tips on what to drink with their Sole Walewska.
The following day, we stayed at the other property that is striving, with equal determination, toward stars and fame. In a completely different style and geographical setting, rurally located just a stone’s throw from the sea, lies Naya Resort outside Mörbylånga. The food was, of course, not in the same class as what Christofer conjures up at Hotel Borgholm, but the oasis itself—with its mix of homeliness and relaxed “recharge your batteries” atmosphere—is in my opinion an even more pleasant hotel destination. If you are on Öland, you must stay at both hotels. Anything else would be like going to Cairo without seeing the pyramids.
Let us hope that both Öland and Gotland can once again flourish without becoming new versions of Mallorca’s selfie-obsessed influencer paradise. Let us also hope that the price levels on the Riviera become more humane so that ordinary people can catch a glimpse of these legendary places without having to camp at Böda Sand for the coming summers. The Riviera made such a big hole in my wallet that I think we may have to dare return to my former Yugoslavia next summer. I truly hope that the rumors of its beautiful transformation are true.
Restaurants
- Voile La Réserve, Ramatuelle – 94points (France)
- Colette, Saint-Tropez – 94points (France)
- Chez Jeanette, Peyrasol – 93points (France)
- Hotel Borgholm, Borgholm – 89points (Sweden)
- L´Abre de Soleil, Le Lavandou – 89points (France)
- Loup de Bailli, Rayol – 86points (France)
- L´Envol Villa Douce, Rayol – 85points (France)
- Naya Resort, Mörbylånga – 83points (Sweden)
Hotels
- Domaine Bailli de Suffren, Rayol – 93points (France)
- Hotel de Paris, Saint-Tropez – 93points (France)
- Naya Resort, Mörbylånga – 88points (Sweden)
- Hotel Borgholm, Borgholm – 88points (Sweden)
