With a captivating voice and crowd-pleasing repertoire, Clairdee is well known to patrons of San Francisco’s jazz clubs. This month, though, the American jazz vocalist is taking a break from her regular circuit and moonlighting at the Sheraton Grande Sukhumvit.

Born Barbara Clairdee in Tucson, Arizona, Clairdee spent her early years in Denver, Colorado, before settling down in San Francisco.

With three highly praised albums to her credit, including “Music Moves” and “Destination Moon”, Clairdee is currently working on her newest recording, “A Love Letter to Lena Horne.”

When she’s not in studio or performing at her regular clubs, she tours the world, and has sung with symphony pop orchestras and big bands, and shared the stage with artists as diverse as Bucky Pizzarelli, Boz Scaggs, David Sanborn, Dick Hyman, Houston Person and the late, great Etta James.

“It has become a tradition for the Sheraton Grande Sukhumvit to bring the finest jazz to Bangkok,” the hotel’s general manager Richard Chapman tells Explore.

The venue for the jazz is the Living Room, a dimly lit bar on the second floor that oozes with speakeasy ambience. In September, the comfortable chairs and café tables were packed every night as jazz fans came to enjoy the dulcet tones of Lezlie Harrison, an American vocalist from New York.

Anna Mjoll, Iceland’s coolest jazz singer, was supposed to perform in October but her residency was put on hold as Thailand went into deep mourning for His Majesty the King Bhumibol Adulyadej.

With entertainment once again permitted, Clairdee is now performing at The Living Room, giving her all through a sparkling repertoire of her own songs and jazz classics.

As ever, she is being backed by the Randy Cannon Group featuring Cannon on piano, Willard Dyson on drums and Therdsak Wongvichien on bass.

Located in downtown Bangkok, |the Sheraton Grande Sukhumvit is a short walk from Asok BTS and Sukhumvit MRT stations.

SOFTLY AFTER DARK

< Clairdee and the Randy Cannon Group perform Tuesday to Thursday from 9.15pm and on Friday and Saturday from 8.45pm.

For many, the idea of staying in a hostel conjures up thoughts of rickety bunks, draughty corridors and snoring strangers.

They expect chaotic shared kitchens, long looted of their best utensils, and decor which is anything but stylish.

But now the hostel has evolved into something new and altogether more pleasing. The “poshtel” is set to make dodgy lodgings a thing of the past.

Travellers’ bible Lonely Planet has already noted the “irresistible rise” of the phenomenon.

So what’s it all about?

The poshtel combines the hostel’s cohabiting concept and affordable |prices with exciting design and special |amenities.

“Guests encounter features which you wouldn’t normally associate with a hostel, like a pool, roof terrace, bar, restaurant and free breakfast,” says Paul Halpenny from Hostelworld.com.

Rather than simply the cheapest place to sleep, poshtels aim to provide an attractive atmosphere where you’ll actually enjoy spending time. And the price per night is still significantly cheaper than at a hotel.

Halpenny says a “hostel revolution” has taken place in recent years.

Nowadays, 90 per cent of places also offer some private rooms and it is hard to find one without free WiFi, he says.

Travellers’ expectations have increased, and the facilities and ambience of hostels have improved as a result.

“Hostels used to offer a cheap bed for the night,” says Tobias Warnecke of the German Hotel Association (IHA).

“Nowadays, travellers are increasingly placing importance on the design and aesthetics of their temporary home, without wanting to give up the cheap price or the sociable and informal atmosphere of a hostel.”

“Poshtels are experiencing strong demand throughout Europe and worldwide,” confirms Gillian Tans, chief executive of the Booking.com online accommodation platform.

This hasn’t been too obvious so far, because the term “poshtel” is not that widespread yet. The locations are often marketed as design hostels or boutique hostels.

Some hotel chains have tried to offer rooms with contemporary design at affordable prices in capital cities. But they have been unable to come close to matching hostel prices.

More and more poshtels are opening, especially in the popular European metropolises.

Halpenny cites the Wallyard Concept Hostel in Berlin, Sunset Destination in Lisbon and the TOC Hostel in Barcelona as examples. Fancy, affordable city hostels have also sprouted up in cities like Chicago and Sydney.

The mainstream hotel industry is also trying to occupy this niche with design hotels, boutique hotels and lifestyle hotels, with locations from 25hours, Prizeotel and CitizenM making their mark.

And the major hotel chains are launching fresh, new, design-oriented brands to appeal to younger guests and compete with Airbnb.

Vice versa, a guest at a hostel with a single room and private bathroom can feel just like they would in a hotel.

“Clear distinctions between individual segments of the market are increasingly difficult to make and are becoming ever more blurred,” says Tobias Warnecke.

For example, AccorHotels has just launched the brand JO&JOE, aimed at millennials – with 50 locations around the world planned by 2020.

Are these more like a hotel or a hostel? When asked, a spokeswoman preferred to speak instead of an “open house”.

Watching the weather forecast on the television in my hotel room in Haiphong, Vietnam’s third largest city, I discover that my trip to Halong Bay has literally gone with the wind. A storm is forecast to hit coastal Haiphong tomorrow, the weatherman says almost cheerfully, and bang goes my much-anticipated four-hour tour of Halong Bay.

The disappointment hits hard, not least because we have come from Bangkok to Haiphong especially to cruise in scenic Halong Bay, a Unesco World Heritage Site that’s known the world over from its dramatic scenery dotted with islets.

“Tomorrow we will visit Cat Ba Island, the largest of the 367 islands making up the Cat Ba Archipelago, and if the weather isn’t too bad, we might have a chance to cruise in Halong Bay,” says Tien, our Vietnamese guide before dinner.

Looking at his rather grim face, I know that the chances are close |to zero.

I console myself with what John Steinbeck wrote in his memoir “Travels with Charley: In Search of America”. “A journey is like marriage,” he opined. “The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.”

So I take a deep breath and bid farewell to Halong Bay, turning my attention instead to planning how to spend the rest of our time in Vietnam.

Waking the next morning to light rain and low clouds, we board a speedboat for a two-hour trip to Cat Ba Island then hop on an electric bus for a sightseeing tour. We visit beaches Cat Co1 and Cat Co 2 and enjoy the laid-back town. The highlight of the half-day trip is Cannon Fort, which is less than 15 minutes away from Cat Ba town by bus or motorcycle.

“Cat Ba Island means ‘Women’s Island’ and it was here that our women helped the Vietnamese army fight against the enemies. At the heart of Cat Ba Island, we also have the visually stunning and ecologically diverse Cat Ba National Park, a World Heritage Site designated as a biosphere reserve in northern Vietnam,” Tien explains.

Located on the top of the mountain, Cannon Fort offers astounding panoramas of Cat Ba Island’s dense jungle hills, the fishing boats floating in the harbour and the sea surrounded by a karst landscape.

“The fort was used in the naval defence of Hai Phong during the Vietnam War. The tunnels and guns here were first installed by the Japanese in WWII, but later used |by the French and Vietnamese,” |Tien says.

Some visitors are enjoying the scenic view from the terrace of the small café close to the observatory, while others explore a tiny war museum, underground tunnels, and inspect two well-preserved gun emplacements.

The dark clouds are building up and the wind is starting to gust so Tien rushes us to get back in the boat before the weather closes in and it becomes impossible to leave the island. Our so-called private bus is now packed with tourists and locals who want to board the boat at another pier where the wind is tamer.

We make it safely back to Haiphong where we stay overnight before heading back to Hanoi.

“No trip to Hanoi is complete without seeing our Water Puppet show. That’s the first thing we’ll do when we reach Hanoi,” Tien says with a smile.

Water puppetry or Mua Roi Nuoc is all about making puppets dance on water. Its origins can be traced back to the villages of the Red River Delta of northern Vietnam where, back in the 11th century, villagers used water puppetry to entertain each other in the flooded rice fields.

In front of Thang Long Water Puppet theatre, tour guides with different groups compete with the sound of horns and traffic to let their charges know where to meet after the show.

Tien is right about this being a spectacle not to miss. The water puppet performance shows a series of glimpses into the daily life of Vietnamese farmers, Vietnamese traditions and legends. One minute we see the lively puppets working in the rice fields, tending their buffaloes and ducks and catching fish. The next minute Emperor Le Loi of Annam, founder of the Le dynasty, is returning the magic sword to the tortoise, echoing the legend of nearby Hoan Kiem Lake. And even though the show is in Vietnamese, it’s easy to understand and appreciate.

After the show, Tien has us travelling by Xich Lo – cyclo – the traditional transport of the French and Vietnamese nobles during the French colonial period.

Seated in front of the driver, the busy streets of Hanoi are literally within arm’s reach. It’s a terrifying and deafening experience but still the best way to explore the busy streets of Hanoi.

I want to scream every time I see locals stroll across the street. Sometimes the motorcycles are only a few centimetres from hitting them but they don’t seem to care. Then Tien’s voice comes to my mind:

“When you see a car or a motorcycles coming towards you, don’t run, stop or take a different direction. Keep walking at your own pace and everybody is safe. Otherwise, the drivers would surely hit you.”

And I thought the Bangkok streets were dangerous.

IF YOU GO

http://www.VietJetair.com.

Winter flowers have long delighted tourists and photographers alike and once again it’s time for the Mexican sunflower, cherry blossom, poinsettia and tulips to bring a spring to the step and a smile to the face.

The combination of glorious sunshine, blue skies and cooler nights makes this a perfect time to explore a countryside carpeted with reds, oranges, yellows and magenta and this week we recommend the best places to enjoy the winter’s flower power. Do try and avoid long weekends though, as that’s when everyone else will be going.

A trip to tehran, we’re told, is not complete without a visit to Sa’ad Abad Palace Complex in Shemiran on the outskirts of the Iranian capital. Looking round at the vast 300-hectare site, I ask our guide Mahdi Ghasemian what on earth the Iranian Shahs did to amass such a fortune. Mahdi replies with an expression that’s half smile and half grimace. Like many kings of the early days, he explains, the Shah didn’t work for a living. “He was a king, he lived on our taxes,” he says.

But fortune – and fortunes – don’t last forever and the wealth of the Pahlavi dynasty in Iran came to an abrupt halt in 1979 where the Islamic Revolution put an end to the 2,500-year-old absolute monarchy. The new leader, Grand Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, turned the Imperial State of Iran into the Islamic Republic of Iran. The last shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, was forced to leave quickly, without too many of his spoils, and ended up in Panama.

His legacy – as well as that of his ancestors – remains on the slopes of Alborz Mountain – the richest district in Northern Tehran – and includes a pair of ivory tusks from Thailand as well as the world’s largest pink diamond, the Darya-ye Nur.

“The palaces were turned into a museum after the revolution in 1979,” says Mahdi, as we head deeper into Sa’ad Abad Palace Complex. “You would need a good week to explore the shah’s treasures in Tehran.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have a week, only a little more than 24 hours. We’re leaving Tehran in haste too,” I tell Mahdi.

Set in spectacular mountainside parkland, the Sa’ad Abad Palace Complex was once a royal summer home. The site holds 18 heritage buildings dedicated to subjects as diverse as the royal dishware, royal automobiles and miniature paintings.

The Shahvand Palace – or the Green Palace – was built at the end of the Qajar era and extensively remodelled by the Pahlavis in a classic European style for Reza Shah. He lived here for a year before complaining that the bed was too soft. The shah, the story goes, had to sleep on the floor. Today visitors come and poke their heads around mirror stalactites. Our next stop is the White Palace where we find the pair of elephant tusks presiding over the grand dining hall.

A day in Tehran is way too short, but it’s long enough to slip back and forth between legendary Persia and modern Iran.

On the way from Sa’ad Abad Palace to Golestan Palace, we observe that Tehran has something in common with Bangkok. Tehranis, for example, appear to spend much of the day in their beloved vehicles and the traffic congestion is extreme. They love motorbikes too, contributing choking smog and manic moves to the city’s streets. A soulless mass of concrete and traffic, Tehran comes very close to Bangkok as the most hectic yet dynamic place to live.

Like Bangkokians, the Tehranis are friendly (and good-looking). Here and there, as we brave the fast-moving motorbikes and cross to the other side of the road, they beckon us to take their photos.

From the chaotic business centre, we take a long walk to Golestan Palace, home to 17 structures, including palaces, museums, and halls. Almost all of the complex was built during the 200-year rule of the Qajar kings.

The Marble Throne is interesting with a mirrored, open-fronted audience hall dominated by a magnificent throne. The throne is supported by both human and non-human figures – many of them female – and constructed from 65 pieces of yellow alabaster mined in Yazd.

“Isn’t it unkind to the women to make them carry the throne for a man?” asks Jum, my travel mate.

“Oh. Well, those are angels – not just common women,” says the guide.

A short walk from the Marble Hall is Talar-e Ayaheh, the Hall of Mirrors, an amazing edifice topped by a huge dome and covered with shiny pieces of glass in a mosaic pattern. To me it seems kind of weird to be constantly living with your own reflection but there again, the ruler probably had his reasons.

“The Shah wanted to see a reflection in every turn, so he could ensure he was in secure accommodation,” says Mahdi. “The reflective glass meant he could see the assassin behind him.”

“That’s pretty smart,” I concede. “And why does it have to be done in mosaic fashion?”

“Well, the mirrors broke into pieces while being shipped from Europe to Iran,” Mahdi replies. “The Iranian designer had to make the most out of the broken glass.”

From the palace, we walk to the marketplace. Just a two-minute walk from Golestan Palace, the air in the Toton Forosh’ha Bazaar is redolent with herbs and spices. All along the bustling walking street, vendors offer dried berries, dried rose petals, roasted pistachios and a range of other kinds of nut and leaves impossible to identify.

A mother and her chldren are amused by the bag of raw pistachio knotted roughly around my wrist. I try to ask them for the name of the dried magenta flower. The ageing mother points to her head and smiles, leaving me none the wiser. “Gol gav zaban,” says her daughter. “It’s good for your brain. It’s a cure for Alzheimer’s.”

Minutes later I found myself in a back alley at a small tea stand.

Iranian tea culture is unique. The vendor keeps his tea kettle simmering on the stove in order to keep the tea warm.

When you order a cup of tea, he will pour the tea in your cup then hand you a small jar of cubed sugar. Since the tea is extremely hot, you have to pour a small amount of tea into the small porcelain plate to cool it.

“No. No,” one Iranian man exclaims, watching me about to drop sugar into my tea. He shows me how to do it the Iranian way. It turns out you take a few slurps from the porcelain plate than a bite of the sugar cube to cut the tannin.

Our trip ends with a visit to the Treasury of the National Jewels. Better known as the jewels museum, the Treasury houses the gems confiscated from the royal families after the 1979 revolution.

There was so much talk about the treasures of the shahs – the collection dates back to the Safavid dynasty in Isfahan – that ordinary Iranians were afraid that they would fall into the wrong hands. The National Bank of Iran finally opened its cavernous vault that houses the treasure, making it Tehran’s biggest tourist destination.

The incomparable treasury is a collection of the most expensive jewels in the world, collected over centuries, among them the Peacock Throne, an elaborate diamond and emerald Aigrette set in silver and the Pahlavi Crown. The must see is the Darya-ye Nur (Sea of Light), a pink diamond weighing 182 carats.

“This is Globe of Jewel,” says Mahdi, as he drags me to a globe bigger than a basketball. “It’s made of 51,366 precious stones. Isn’t it crazy?”

I have to agree. Even the rich have bad taste it seems.