The cobblestoned streets of Ghent are quiet and charming, filled with students and laid back locals. This kitsch bar caught my attention:

Pink Flamingo

Ghent has a brilliant mix of historic and contemporary culture, such as this installation on the river bank:

This is the Rococo centerpiece in St Baff’s Cathedral:

At Volta, I had a very memorable dinner.

The mixologist at Volta added a dash of orange bitters to a state of the art rum Old Fashioned

Yes, I get to flirt with handsome chefs (at Volta)

This cod in mushroom broth was seriously delicious (at Volta)

An exclusive look at the new Kamppi Chapel of Silence

Design Forum

The new Music Center

Stylish waitress at The Savoy, Aalto's 1937 restaurant

Original Alvar Aalto table and vases

Latva, a charming bar

The converted American server at Latva

Lingam berry cocktail at Juuri

Yes! I ate smoked raindeer tongue!

The reception at Klaus K, my hotel

At Klaus K's club, two girls can share a bathroom

The charming Café Ekberg

A hipster server at Sis Deli+ Café

Alvar Aalto's Academic Bookstore

A seriously delicious rhubarb basil cocktail at A21

Helsinki was voted best place to live by Monocle and I can see why. The air is pure and the sky is a crisp blue. The Finns are endearing and sweet and have a bit of a dark sense of humor. And of course, they love their saunas. Here it’s all about the saunas. At night we take a ferry to one of the island restaurants and taste the freshest raw salmon and down neat vodka. We sing drinking songs while the sun, with its neon pink ribbons, kisses the still river. Kippis. (Cheers)

Day four – after traveling throughout the country on Eurail trains and looking at the stark tundra through the massive windows, we hop on the Allegro – Europe’s first high speed train to Russia – and promptly pass the borders. As a dashing blonde man with chiseled cheekbones checks my passport, the flashbacks of the Russian visa application nightmares vanish. Soon we’re looking at soviet bunker style buildings, barbed wires and modest houses. Olga, a language teacher and guide, is waiting at the St. Petersburg station. Later tonight we have a reservation at The Idiot, named after Dostoyevsky’s famous book. But now I have a date at the New Holland cultural complex, located on an old industrial site.

The temporary exhibition at New Holland

Model, editor and art patron Dasha Zhukova is transforming historical wood warehouses into to art studios, venues and perhaps a store or two. That’s thanks to her husband Roman Abramovic’s 4M$ investment. On the site, a flat, vast field covered in gravel and grass, giant inflatable rats greet visitors. They are by the Bruce High Quality Foundation and part of the summer exhibition at New Holland. My hostess, lovely Anna Dyulgerova, offers me a tasting of Georgean cheeses – pungent and complex- and herb tea which we drink with spoonfuls of honey, wrapped in thick wool blankets.

One day one, we flew over the city in a helicopter. The Schelde glistened, the Gothic Cathedral rose from the flat city, and the MAS, with its rust indian bricks and asymetrical facade, stood proudly on the waterfront.

In the helicopter

The MAS is a massive cabinet of curiosities, filled with antique boats, paintings from Flemish masters, contemporary installations, and art works commissioned from the city’s best talent. There is an in-house composer, whose remarkable noise-like ambient tracks add an eerie dimension to the shows. Vicky Geunes, the region’s most celebrated chef, serves his delicate compositions in his Michelin-starred restaurant, ‘T Zilte, which is surrounded by glass and overlooks the city. I tasted an acid-green iced cucumber yogurt bonbon, fresh and fragrant and delicious.

Mas Museum

Families pass by, the men dressed in seersucker suits and bow ties, the women clad in tight cocktail dresses, elaborate flowered hats and stumbling on their vertiginous heels. Tourists in souvenir t-shirts flaunt the shiny, colorful plastic bead necklaces they have collected from the parade, where exuberant characters on floats pitch plastic trinkets and candy on the crowd’s heads.

At Antoine’s, a French Quarter French-Cerole restaurant that’s been open since 1840, pink, green and blue balloons rise from wooden bistro chairs. A fleur de lys motif decorates the wallpaper and moldings of the high ceilings. Antique chandeliers cast a dim light on a very colorful crowd. Here, a man in a Hawaiian printed shirt; there, a woman with fifties cat frames, tomato red lips and nails and a flower-printed dress. In the corner, a woman with a waxy complexion and thick red-traced lips sings oldies with a deep, sensuous voice. Her orange flame-printed dress billows softly as she moves her hips.

My charming waiter lights up a brandy infused with lemon peels and brandy. He stirs the potion to heat it up, then mixes it with coffee and serves it in a little cup. I dig into my warm pecan bread pudding and take a sip of the hot, sweet, toxic concoction.

A DVF portrait by Francesco Clemente

Diane Von Furstenberg sits straight on the edge of the couch, throwing her shoulders back like a ballerina. She puts down her Ipad, with its lip-covered screensaver. She holds her thick locks in her hands for a moment, closing her eyes. It has been a busy morning, as usual. Then suddenly she perks up again, beaming and talking about her business – her favorite topic. This year her resolution was to expand in China; she is leaving for the country in a few days. On April 2nd, Diane Von Furstenberg: Journey of a Dress, a major exhibition of her work and influence, opens at Pace Beijing after a stop in Moscow, featuring portraits of the princess by Andy Warhol, Francesco Clemente and Helmut Newton, dresses. Portraits DVF has commissioned from contemporary Chinese artists (conceptual artist Zhang Huan, photographer Hai Bo, painter Li Songsong and multimedia artist Yi Zhou) will be unveiled.

So I didn’t quite know what to expect when I opened American journalist Annia Ciezaldo’s first book, Day of Honey. I knew she had lived in the region and married a Lebanese man; I thought she might offer some insights about the region, like a scholar or a distant observer — or the many cynical correspondents I knew.

But I found the book refreshingly hopeful and poetic. Ciezaldo embraces her husband’s family and culture with curiosity and humor. She learns to make typical Lebanese and Iraki meals. As she navigates the complex, violent realities in both countries, she draws vivid portraits of the courageous and inspiring people she meets. She does write about the absurdities and the contradictions and the corruption, but she also describes how civilians deal with the chaos everyday and shows that they, too, have dreams, even it if may be so much harder for them to reach them. And she shows that everyone needs love and food to survive.

Annia Ciezaldo loves Lebanese food

So for the summer I’m really into all the really soft, earthy tones and easy silhouettes.

I’d like a long silk pleated skirt like this one from Rag & Bone.

Actually, I want the whole outfit. The harness-bra top is just amazing. Ok, more pilates in March.

I’d also like a beautiful statement belt. Margiela always makes the best.

Shoes need to be comfortable for running after the bus and long walks in Soho. I like these Chloé platform espadrilles- relaxed and chic.

And then to flirt with handsome hipsters while endlessly waiting for a table at Five Leaves, I’ll wear these Rodarte for Opening Ceremony snakeskin shades:

First, La Carte et le Territoire, by Michel Houellebecq, winner of this year’s Prix Goncourt. It’s the story of this strange artist, Jed Martin, who finds massive success in the most serendipitous circumstances. The people he eventually meets include Michel Houellebecq, a degenerate depressive character who’s gruesomely assassinated; Olga, a sex-bomb/PR girl from Russia, Frederic Beigbeder, a coke-addicted celebrity writer who’s equally bitter and hyperactive.

As usual, Houellebecq offers a dark and incisive analysis of our corrupt, PR-savvy, vulgar world. While La Carte et le Territoire is not as powerful as the writer’s older books, it’s definitely an interesting insight into the art world and our times. If you want to be completely disillusioned and demoralized, read it.

The intimate Bleeker Street boutique holds the full Nars range and exclusives such as the Bleeker matte lipstick, a burnt red stain. Here you can play with everything with the makeup artists, protected from the hysterical action of malls. I’ve always been a fan of Baron’s sensual black casings for the brand (I remember stealing my mom’s almost-empty Nars eyeshadow palettes and getting the last bits with a Q-tip. I must’ve been 11). I also love the Orgasm blush and gloss (it’s true, you look like you’ve just spent the day doing it on a beach rather than bitching at the New York transit system). The makeup remover is epically efficient and the lipsticks – my fave is Senorita, a golden-peachy nude – are creamy and pigment-rich. For summer, there’s a Studio 54-inspired collection – I’m especially impatient to try on the copper nail polish, inspired by the disco divas and flashy decadence of the era.

Finally, there’s an inspiration wall with books, films, fresh flowers, and other pretty things that evoke the poetic world of François Nars – an adoptive New Yorker who lives in a hotel suite on Central Park South and enjoys long strolls in the Village on sunny days.

Here are my favorites of the moment:

Scallop ceviche with blood orange
2-3 scallops per person (I buy them fresh at the market, which really makes a difference)
1 lime, juiced
1 blood orange, juiced
1 tsp. good quality olive oil
pinch sel de Guérande
1 chili pepper, seeded and minced
1 avocado
cilantro leaves, chopped (keep a couple of whole stalks for decoration)
1/2 red onion or shallot

Cut scallops in thin pieces.
Mix in the cubed avocado, onion, cilantro leaves and peppers, then add the lime, orange, oil, salt and pepper.
Mix well to allow the flavors to blend.
Serve with a thick slice of country bread or some good tortilla chips. I like to serve this in a clear martini glass because the bright colors and contrasted textures are really pretty.

The next day, I seared the remaining scallops with some shallots and made a blood-orange lime reduction. It was delicious and equally beautiful. My friends Janette and Soha Farah, owners of IF boutique and wonderful chefs, taught me to grate some lime zest on the scallops for extra zing.

Another recipe I love making, especially in the winter, is braised lamb shanks. Lamb is a staple in Lebanese cooking and I really miss the lamb stews we eat everyday at lunch there, but here the meat tastes milder and is more tender.

In this version I used squash and yams because their sweetness really comes out when paired with lamb.

Braised lamb shanks and caramelized yams and squash recipe (for two)
2 lamb shanks
1 large yam
1 butternut squash
some olive oil
some ginger
spices (cinnamon, cloves, ginger powder…)
1 onion
cilantro, for serving

Heat the oil in a thick skillet and throw in the minced onion
Add the shanks, salt and spices and brown them on all sides
Throw in some water or broth (cover the shanks), cover and let simmer for one hour, or until the lamb falls off the bone
Add the cut yams and squash (I like to keep them in big chunks because they melt quickly). You can add some brown sugar for extra-caramelization
Throw in some ginger. For extra heat add a bit of hot pepper
Cover and let simmer for about 20 minutes, or until the vegetables are cooked
Add the cilantro leaves and serve with some steaming couscous. You can add some dried figs, raisins or dates 10 minutes before the end the stew is ready if you like the sweetness.

Bon appétit!