Alps

FEBRUARY in Britain is officially a washout – so now’s the perfect time to book your next holiday.

ClubMed has just launched a massive flash sale, slashing 20% off a bundle of luxury all-inclusive ski holidays.

Club Med: 20% off ski holidays

Whether you fancy skiing the French peaks or the Italian slopes, you can bag a serious bargain with the travel operator – but only for the next few days.

This promotion launched earlier today (3rd February) and runs until midnight on Friday (6th February).

Best of all, it covers holidays all the way from November 2026 to May 2027.

The discounts on offer are for a wide number of ClubMed resorts across the European Alps.

At Alpe d’Huez, you get ski-in, ski-out access to a massive 250km piste area.

When you aren’t carving up the snow, you can also try dog-sledding or hit the PAYOT spa.

You can even enjoy a legendary apres-ski session at the beautiful lobby bar.

If you want to go all out, Grand Massif offers contemporary chalet-apartments with private fireplaces.

Guests there even enjoy a daily glass of champagne from 6pm.

Meanwhile, Les Arcs Panorama is a family dream, featuring a Scandinavian enchanted forest design.

You can even soak those sore legs in an open-air jacuzzi while looking out over the Paradiski area.

Because it’s all-inclusive, your lift passes and lessons are usually sorted, meaning there are no nasty, hidden-cost surprises.

ClubMed ski holiday deals this February

The 20% discount is automatically applied to these price drops (per person, per week):

• Val Thorens, £1,226 (was £1,440) – book here
• Tignes, £1,397 (was £1,594) – book here
• Les Arcs Panorama, £1,414 (was £1,661) – book here
• Peisey Vallandry, £1,522 (was £1,788) – book here
• Val d’Isere, £1,549 (was £1,820) – book here
• Valmorel, £1,614 (was £1,896) – book here
• La Rosiere, £1,616 (was £1,899) – book here
• Pragelato, £1,644 (was £1,931) – book here
• Alp d’Huez, £1,659 (was £1,949) – book here
• Serre Chevalier, £1,730 (was £2,033) – book here

Remember, it’s savvy holidaymakers who plan months or even years in advance.

This is a chance to get a late-2026 or 2027 adventure locked in for less.

But don’t hang about: this sale is only runs for a few more days.

Further afield, there’s a Balkan resort with £1 beers has been named Europe’s most affordable ski destination.

Is there a better sensation for a traveller than when a train speeds out of a tunnel? The sudden flood of light, that howling rush of air. Clearly, it’s not just me who thinks trains are the new (old) planes, with 2025 having seen a 7% rise in UK train travel, and more Europeans than ever looking to hit the rails.

It’s late December, and I’m heading out on a slow-train journey across the historic railways of the Swiss Alps and the Italian lakes. It’s a trip of roughly 1,800 miles (2,900km), crossing five countries, almost entirely by scenic daytime trains.

What is clear from the off is how easy, and slightly disorientating, this type of train travel can be: drifting through stations, across platforms and over borders, it’s hard to believe we’ve hit three countries in less than a day – the UK, France and Switzerland – such is the ease of each passport stop. Gone are the sweaty finger scans of airport border control, replaced by the most polite immigration police I’ve ever encountered. “You’ve travelled a lot,” one says, with a wry smile and a German shepherd, to which I reply “legally”, just to cover my back.

Outside, the French countryside soon blurs into Swiss hills, all behind a thin veil of white, wintry light. The fields, with their clumps of bare trees, seem suspended in mid-freeze, as though bracing for the full blast to come. As we roll into Zurich, we catch our first glimpse of the milky Alpine peaks.

This is the thrill of train trips: the steadily shifting scenes, the rise and fall of the landscape, leavened like fresh bread. Next morning, we’re greeted with crisp blue skies for our mountain ascent via one of Europe’s most historic train routes, the Matterhorn Gotthard railway. The original line opened in 1882 and was the railroad that changed Europe, slicing a path through inhospitable mountains and isolated villages.

We catch one of the historic trains (the IR46) – keen to avoid anything routed through the Gotthard base tunnel, which bypasses the beauty. In summer, a tourist train – with bigger windows and a bigger price tag – takes the exact same route, famously depicted by JMW Turner and described in awed terms by Goethe. “Here,” he wrote, “it is necessary to submit to nature.” Though it’s the cafe car selling Swiss coffee at eye-watering prices that forces me to revise Goethe: here, it is necessary to submit to inflation.

Phones duly on charge (as is slow-train travel etiquette), we sit back and gawp out of the window for three hours, eating Swiss truffles as the tracks snake the mythic Alps via the famous Gotthard “spirals” – corkscrew tracks built inside the mountains for a steady ascent. It’s the stuff of oil paintings all right – vertiginous gorges, frothing rivers and snow-capped peaks.

At Göschenen, we opt for a lunch stop via a short, even steeper rack-and-pinion route high into the former garrison town of Andermatt, now reinvented as a chic ski retreat. Up here, the snow is thick. Between that and the dark Alpine stone, it’s as though we’ve stepped out into a monochrome photograph. A comforting lunch at the excellent Biselli, along with several glasses of Swiss Ticino red (liquid lunch being another perk of slow-train travel) takes the edge off a dense mist that has crept over the rest of the day’s rail route. Thankfully, Italy soon pushes back, with clear skies and terracotta valley towns, and – just like that – another border is crossed, bringing with it a welcome drop in the cost of a cappuccino (from €5 to €2), enjoyed while skimming the edge of the ice-blue Lake Lugano.

By dusk, we’re at Lake Como. Bags dropped, we catch the last of the light with an easy passeggiata (stroll) round the perimeter of the famous lake, mercifully lacking its high-season crowds. Ornate street lamps line the water’s edge like washed-up pearls and, in the distance, the funicular up to the hillside town of Brunate shines with a string of golden lights that dangle down the slope like lost jewellery. It’s hard to imagine Como any other way.

Next morning, having got into the swing of slow-train transience, we pack up in record time and take coffee at the station. For our final stop, we’re heading in the direction of a much-needed metropolis. Ditching Milan – Italy’s least interesting city – we roll into Turin, one of its most underappreciated.

Stepping off the rickety regional train at Torino Porta Susa, what we find is a vibrant, easygoing student city that appears contentedly trapped in some kind of temporal ragu; a place where 1920s art deco neon signs cling to 18th-century baroque buildings that house vintage shops run by students dressed as if they are in the 1990s.

Miraculously, all this gels, and the student cohort rub along just fine with their more conservative elders, united beneath the impressive porticos that run, unbroken, for more than 18km and are lined with boutiques and historic coffee bars. We round out our first night with an aperitivo at the classic art-school haunt Caffè Università, with its frayed edges and charmingly outmoded daily buffet.

Next morning, Turin’s enviable portfolio of museums and galleries beckon, most free to enter with the Torino card. Here, the time-warp vibes continue within the soaring spire of the 19th-century Mole Antonelliana, now housing the superb Museo Nazionale del Cinema – surely, the only neoclassical building that’s home to an xenomorph egg from the film Alien? Likewise, another repurposed building, the Lingotto complex, boasts an even more outlandish upcycle: the famous Fiat test track on its roof has been reimagined as La Pista 500, a panoramic garden walk, where art installations live alongside the historic skidmarks. Proof that Turin is not interested in simply preserving history, but also evolving.

With a chill in the air, we duck in for a perfect meal at the unassuming yet excellent Osteria Rabezzana, part of the Mangébin circuit that promotes Piedmontese cuisine. The brasato al barolo (beef braised in barolo wine) and local agnolotti del plin (beef- and cabbage–stuffed pasta) are excellent. This family-run restaurant and winery opened just after the second world war, and judging by the convivial atmosphere – full of local people on office festive outings – it has served the city well ever since.

Next morning, we are up and out to catch the 7.36 TGV all the way back to Paris. Drifting in and out of sleep, we take in a last glimpse of the Italian Alps. By the time we reach our Parisian pit stop, day is folding in on itself, and soon enough, we’re slumped back on the Eurostar, flanked by bags of clinking wine bottles cushioned by crushed panettone. Homebound and heady, we reluctantly plunge back into the black of the Channel tunnel, leaving all that light behind us.

Transport was provided by Interrail; passes allowing seven days of travel within one month are £255 youths, £339 adults, £305 seniors (under-12s travel free). Return Eurostar from London to Paris starts from £78. Accommodation was provided by The Home Hotel Zurich (from £165B&B), Hilton Lake Como (from €270 B&B), NH Collection Torino Piazza Carlina (from £203 B&B) and 25hours Terminus Nord in Paris (from €179 room-only ).

Milo Boyd explored M De Megève, a luxury hotel in the French Alps beloved by the mega-rich that rivals any White Lotus setting

White Lotus is making a comeback for a fourth season, this time heading to the Château de La Messardière – a genuine palace-turned-hotel nestled on 32 verdant acres of jasmine, cypress trees and parasol pines in France’s Saint-Tropez.

Whilst there’s no question that the programme will continue to captivate, excite and astonish on the Mediterranean, the show’s brilliant creator Mike White has overlooked a golden opportunity.

There exists a resort 300km to the north that presents a far more abundant tapestry of historical glamour and nouveau riche intrigue that forms the backbone of the HBO sensation, whilst also providing grounds for introducing a yodelling theme tune.

That destination is Megève and the particular hotel, the M De Megève. The compact ski resort is nestled 1,400 metres up the French Alps, beneath the shadow of Mont Blanc.

OPINION

Milo Boyd

OPINION

Milo Boyd

Although the village of 3,000 might be less renowned than Tignes or Val d’Isère, it remains cherished by the ultra-wealthy and French nobility.

Indeed, Megève’s exceptionally affluent origins trace back to the late 1910s when Noémie de Rothschild – weary of encountering German arms dealers in Switzerland’s Saint Moritz – resolved to place the tiny and rural settlement on the map.

In the 100 years since, dozens of ski lifts have emerged across 400 km of interconnected pistes; several Michelin-starred chefs have established themselves in Alpine life there; and luxury hotels matching those showcased in White Lotus have welcomed the global elite. This January, I managed to slip in amongst the international elite for a weekend at M De Megève, a five-star establishment that belongs to the prestigious Small Luxury Hotels of the World club.

It is a truly enchanting destination.

Upon arrival, a porter swiftly collects your luggage and a beverage is offered as you’re escorted to the crackling fire in the entrance hall. A welcome pairing after travelling from London on Eurostar’s Snowtrain, despite the smooth and agreeable nature of the trip.

Drink finished and cases transported upstairs, it’s time to begin discovering.

The M De Megève comprises 42 rooms arranged around a lengthy reception space that opens into a bar area by the entrance, a bistro at the rear and a fondue restaurant to the side. Friendly staff, many of whom spend their winters grafting in the Alps before heading back to Cannes or Marseille for the summer season, are available to help, converse or simply beam a greeting.

In the intimate Grand Crus de Fondue, they’re prepared to provide some more particular guidance. “How do you like your cheese,” the hotel’s sommelier-style Cheese Chef enquired of my partner and I, before conjuring up a pot of bubbling, stomach-fillingly potent fondue that nearly floored us there at the table.

Who knows what would’ve occurred if we’d chosen the Champagne or pear cider base, rather than playing it safe with a classic white wine blend. Equally scrumptious and more traditional cuisine is offered at the bistro, where we feasted on extraordinary plates of French onion soup, mushroom risotto and sea bream, accompanied by a glass or two of Pommery Champagne.

M De Megève enjoys a special partnership with the Reims château, as it does with Clarins. Visitors are showered with complimentary face creams and balms from the premium French skincare brand, and pampered with its complete range down in the spa.

I genuinely question whether my masseuse, who left me floating on clouds and resolved a weeks-long bout of troublesome skin, was practising sorcery.

The enchantment persisted in the timber alpine lodge-style quarters, where drapes are controlled by a bedside button and the lavatories are delightfully interactive.

“Our Asian and Middle Eastern guests insist on it,” a staff member informed me.

White Lotus producer David Bernad recently dashed hopes of a ski season when he declared, “Mike does not like the cold”.

Fortunately for him, the M De Megève’s sauna, hammam and hot tub are sufficiently steamy to warm his joints and, naturally, provide enough ‘actors in swimsuits’ screen time to satisfy the fans.

Yet it is in a different type of suit that Megève’s visitors are at their finest.

Venture out onto the cobblestones of the village and you’ll discover high-fashion brands aplenty. We’re talking Dior, Hermès, Rolex. We’re talking an average month’s wage to kit out each of the piste posers in a white ski-suit, designer label of choice adorned in diamanté on the back. “Megève is a place to be seen,” a Canadian heir explained in the queue for a drag lift.

And he’s right. What’s so intriguing about the hotel is that, despite sitting just 100m from the Chamois lifts, many guests do not ski. Instead, they come to shop, to parade through the village on horse-drawn carriages, and to telecabin up in platform Uggs to a hillside grill flogging £200 steaks and £9 bottles of Evian.

I adore skiing. For the unmatched physical excitement it provides on days brimming with powder-fresh thrills and stunning panoramas.

And for the opportunity to glimpse into a contrasting realm. A realm of Brits debating whether they’d manage to expense a €5,000 club table whilst tucking into the previously mentioned steak; of an Alpine settlement that hosted Emily in Paris; of sharing ski lifts with multilingual families switching between Italian, French and English.

It represents a realm of sophistication and fascination, practically begging to be White Lotused.

Book it

Rooms can be reserved at en.mdemegeve.com from £479.

Eurostar Snow train tickets for the 2025/26 season start at £99 each way (£198 return) in Standard class, running weekly from Dec 20, 2025, to Apr 5, 2026, from London St Pancras to the French Alps via Lille. Visit eurostar.com/uk-en/train/ski-train.

SACRAMENTO — When a California governor goes to Europe and lectures world leaders that they must “grow a spine” and “stand tall” against the American president, I wince.

Not that they shouldn’t, nor that President Trump doesn’t deserve almost any nasty thing said about him. It just seems a tad arrogant.

A world stage in the Swiss Alps is not the proper place for a state governor to be scolding leaders of foreign nations about how they should deal with the U.S. president, no matter how despicably Trump behaves.

Gov. Gavin Newsom is merely the top elected official of one state, even if he can boast that it’s the fourth- or fifth-largest economy in the world. It still doesn’t have a seat at the United Nations or an awesome military that is the heart of NATO and the Western alliance.

Contrary to hackneyed bragging points, California is not a “nation state.” We’re a state — highly populated, but one of 50.

At the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, last week, Newsom was like the lightweight boxer trying to punch far above his class.

He was attempting to score points in the early rounds of his fight for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination, repeating what has been working well for him: swinging from the heels at Trump and attracting the attention of party activists across the country.

And that’s fine for here in the U.S. This is the arena where it belongs.

One can argue that Newsom overdoes it, reaching for all the national exposure he can grab and not focusing enough on the job Californians hired him for at the state Capitol. But there’s no disputing his political success nationally. He’s leading the early polls of potential contenders for the presidential nomination.

But that was probably of little concern for the foreign leaders and other global elites attending the prestigious annual World Economic Forum.

Newsom was given two speaking slots, presumably to inform international movers and shakers about California’s golden investment opportunities. But after arriving, he began blathering about the evil American president, Trump’s threats to hike tariffs and seize Greenland and how European leaders are allegedly cowering before him.

The governor soon after was disinvited to speak at one event, a series of interviews hosted by Fortune magazine at USA House, the Trump administration headquarters.

Newsom blamed Trump for blocking his participation, accusing White House staffers of pressuring the event sponsors.

Well, duh! You can’t shoot spit wads like a little kid at a big meanie and not expect some to be shot back.

“No one in Davos knows who third-rate governor Newscum is or why he is frolicking around Switzerland instead of fixing the problems he created in California,” asserted White House spokeswoman Anna Kelly, using the classless president’s oft-repeated derogatory name for the governor.

Whatever. Snatching Newsom’s mic was probably the right decision. Davos delegates didn’t need to hear a political stump speech attacking the American president or be berated by a governor for also not beating up on him.

This was some of the fiery, expletive-laced stuff the governor had been telling reporters, referring to European leaders:

“Wake up! Where the hell has everybody been? Stop this bullshit diplomacy of sort of niceties. … Have some spine, some goddamn balls ….

“The Europeans should decide for themselves what to do, but one thing they can’t do is what they’ve been doing. … And it’s embarrassing. Just, I can’t take this complicity, people rolling over. I should have brought a bunch of knee pads for all the world leaders. … I mean, it’s just pathetic.

“And I hope people understand how pathetic they look on the world stage.”

The leaders of Canada and France demonstrated how to make the same point — but with dignity — about standing firm against bullying.

“There is a strong tendency for countries to go along to get along. To accommodate. To avoid trouble. To hope that compliance will buy safety. It won’t,” Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney told the forum attendees.

French President Emanuel Macron said, “We do prefer respect to bullies. And we do prefer rule of law to brutality.”

Newsom was allowed to keep one speaking slot: an interview on the forum’s main stage with Ben Smith, editor in chief of the news outfit Semafor.

“Is it surprising the Trump administration didn’t like my commentary and wanted to make sure that I was not allowed to speak? No,” Newsom said. “It’s consistent with … their authoritarian tendencies.”

There’s something distasteful — perhaps even unpatriotic — about an elected American official, regardless of party, vilifying a U.S. president when among allied leaders abroad. Even if it is the dreadful Trump.

But American politics has changed greatly for the worse in recent years, as evidenced by the Newsom-Trump spitball flinging.

California Gov. George Deukmejian spoke at the 1989 Davos forum and was a model of civil diplomacy, promoting the state’s trade and investment opportunities and laying off demagoguery.

Of course, Deukmejian and President Bush were both Republicans. So the Duke didn’t assail the president, not that he would have anyway. He had too much respect for the presidential institution when traveling abroad.

But unlike today’s top elected Republicans, Deukmejian didn’t shy away from giving the president advice. At Davos, the governor urged Bush not to renege on his “read my lips, no new taxes” pledge that got him elected. To reduce the federal deficit, cut spending, the governor cautioned.

Bush ignored such advice and raised taxes — and lost his 1992 reelection bid to Democrat Bill Clinton.

Clinton’s campaign motto is still a classic: “It’s the economy, stupid!”

Newsom needs to pick up on that. Or at least work it into his anti-Trump rant.

What else you should be reading

The must-read: GOP rails against Newsom’s late date for special election to fill Rep. Doug LaMalfa’s seat
The TK: Trump lawyers urge Supreme Court to block California’s new election map while upholding Texas’
The L.A. Times Special: California is suffering truth decay. Sacramento should do something about it

Until next week,
George Skelton

—
Was this newsletter forwarded to you? Sign up here to get it in your inbox.