High life
Ski Swiss
Taki
Gstaad This winter manual is appearing prematurely. January is not considered the chicest of months to be in the Alps. February and March are much better. But in view the fact that a coup d'etat has taken place, the mother of parliaments is about to be abolished, and revolutionary zealots have taken over. High life — taking into consideration the millions of British political refugees streaming out of this miserable island — is offeringadvice as to where some of these miserable creatures should go. If you*ave managed to escape from the bloodthirsty mobs with any silver, or had seen the writing on the wall and opened a foreign bank account, Switzerland is the place for you. And to be exact, Gstaad. This unspoilt village is one of the few places where greedy entrepreneurs have been unable to put up high rise blocks, supermarkets or quick-food counters. The numerous hotels resemble chalets, are built mostly of wood and offer delicious food. The best bargain in town is the Rossli. in the middle of the village. Ernest Hemingway used to stay there, only peasants frequent it, and the food is the cheapest and best in Switzerland. After it comes the Palace Hotel, the most luxurious. Unlike most expensive places, the food is excellent and the service superlative. The only danger is the long line of salesmen who frequent the lobby. Plus the Ayatollah of backgammon, Mr Nicholas Sargeant, born Sigalov somewhere between Bulgaria and Serbia before the turn of the century. Nicky was the first backgammon hustler, having clipped a certain Mr Guggenheim in Europe and then followed him to America on a ship called the Titanic. Alas, Guggenheim went down but Nicky survived. He is still hustling at the Palace but since the new breed of confidence men have appeared (Grinda. Martyn and co.) old Sargeant adds class to the place.
The `GreenGo' nightclub of the Palace is the most swinging in Switzerland, the Gstaad runs the easiest and least crowded, the ski instructors the least likely to run off with your wife or act as if you were an inferior animal — like most French instructors do. And if you are a social lion there is David Niven, Lord Brooke, lots of Goulandrises, Lord Brundisfield and a deposed monarch or two to choose from. Although Gstaad has always been maligned by St Moritz because of its low altitude, the 9,000-foot Diableret Glacier is a fifteenminute drive away and considered a formidable mountain even by the most adventurous skiers.
St Moritz, the second most glamorous ski resort of Switzerland, has always had a complex about Gstaad. That is because the latter has young people with old money while the former the exact opposite. Nevertheless, I assume many octogenarians will leave this country in order to finish their days under a democracy, and St Moritz offers them an ideal setting not to feel old and out of place. There are many quiet walks if one travels about twenty miles out of the town, as St Moritz itself has been overbuilt and the Club Mediterrane has its winter headquarters there. And there are numerous glamorous senior citizens one can meet and pass a few relaxing hours with. Like the 102-year-old Theo Rossi of Martini and Rossi fame, the 92-year-old shipping magnate Stavro Niarchos, and Italy's oldest surviving man, Gianni Agnelli. He owns FIAT, which he started back in 1890 when he was approaching middle age.
After Gstaad and St Moritz there is Verbier. Mostly inhabited by French people who do not want to pay Gstaad prices, it makes up for that terrible disadvantage by offering very good runs and cheaper hotel rooms. And one can take a helicopter and be in Gstaad in ten minutes. CransMontana is also a station de sport d'hiver to be considered, with runs that are passable but I do not recommend a visit there. Every Greek businessman goes there during February and the place stinks of souvlaki and baklava. And there are too many Cypriot waiters around.
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