It was a night to remember, even for South Korea – a country accustomed to political turmoil and social unrest along its 77-year road to democracy. President Yoon Suk Yeol’s martial-law declaration in December was short-lived but it succeeded in unleashing a flood of political and social complications that continue to this day. 

While news traffic has surged, so too has distrust in traditional journalism. The struggle to hold on to audiences has intensified as their interpretations of news have become increasingly polarised. Meanwhile, balanced reporting has become more difficult, with fringe views harder to ignore. News outlets have been accused of misrepresenting information while conspiracy theories have run rampant in the months since. Youtube algorithms are convincing radicals – both progressive and conservative – that their beliefs are the truth.

To the democratic audience worldwide, the case was clear-cut. Yoon’s martial-law decree, which banned all political activities and placed the media and doctors under military supervision, was swiftly judged in the courts. But the question for the media in South Korea has been how to report the nitty gritty of his trials without burying the bigger picture. 

At The Korea Herald, we provide an inside perspective for global readers and strive to report in a way that provides context. During those six hours of martial law, we glimpsed what being robbed of our freedom of speech might look like. But the turmoil also united the country’s news outlets, regardless of their political persuasions, and reinforced our fundamental purpose. It highlighted how journalism exists to assist people’s judgement and not lead it, and how safeguarding the credibility of the media has become even more important to ensuring a sound democracy.

Lee Joo-Hee is the managing director of The Korea Herald.

The 2025 competition will be held in Basel. And so on a crisp day in late January, monocle traversed the city’s cobblestone streets to witness the semi-final draw and city handover – two key moments ahead of the live shows in May. These took place in the new wing of the Kunstmuseum, in front of a brightly coloured Frank Stella artwork, which serves as a fitting backdrop for an event that is known for its vibrancy. After a record-breaking yet bruising period for the competition, we sit down with Österdahl to hear about how he keeps the show on the road, why contemporary culture is always political and the importance of events that unite not divide.

Many people know about the Eurovision Song Contest but you technically work for the European Broadcasting Union (EBU). What is it?
The EBU is an international member organisation of national broadcasters with 100 members across Europe and associate members all over the world. I only work on the Eurovision Song Contest and Junior Eurovision Song Contest, but the EBU does co-production and programme exchange within the membership across all genres, including news and sport.

How long have you been a Eurovision fan?
I grew up in a home where both my parents worked in the music industry. My father competed in Eurovision in 1967 as a songwriter on the Swedish entry. He was a hit maker in the 1960s and 1970s, and then he started managing his own recording studios in Sweden and the UK. The first one was in the basement of my family house; Abba recorded there. Later, we moved to the UK and my father recorded some of the biggest stars of the time, from Marvin Gaye to Iron Maiden and later the Spice Girls and Take That. It was a very special environment; I learned the ins and outs of recording music. That has been helpful in this job.

“Eurovision is the Super Bowl on steroids”

Sweden has a special relationship with Eurovision. When the show is hosted there, the level of excitement is palpable…
That’s right. And our national competition to select our Eurovision representative, Melodifestivalen, is a massive event. It takes place over six consecutive Saturday nights with Eurovision-style production in arenas around Sweden. The whole country pretty much comes to a standstill. The final of that tour is in Stockholm with 35,000 people in attendance – more than we have for any Eurovision Song Contest. The secret to the success of Sweden in Eurovision and the Melodifestivalen format is the close collaboration between SVT [the national broadcaster] and the Swedish music industry. 

Does it feel particularly special to be hosting the competition in Switzerland this year? 
The first edition was in Lugano, so it is coming home in a way. There’s a growing fan base here and Switzerland is quite unique. It’s a country divided between three languages but united in being Swiss. 

Tell us more about your role and the complexities of hosting an event like this.
A large part of what we do is the knowledge transfer from each year: sharing how to set up what is the world’s largest music event and arguably its most complex TV production. My team and I work on this every year, so we make sure that the new host broadcaster has all the information they need because of the unique hosting mode – if you win it, you host it. We take the Monday off after the grand final and then we start again on Tuesday. There is no time to lose. I used to be a commissioning editor of entertainment and sports programming at SVT. If you’re the host broadcaster for a ski world championship, you normally know that five years in advance. With Eurovision, you win it on a Saturday night, and the host broadcaster gets a letter on Monday saying, “Congratulations, you’ve won. Now you’re expected to put all this together a year from now, and it will go out live to hundreds of millions of people”. It’s quite a daunting task. 

Do you try to avoid capital cities when selecting the host location?
The show employs more than 10,000 people, which is something that people at home perhaps do not realise. We need a lot of hotel rooms and an international airport. We also need an area near the arena with changing rooms for up to 26 delegations of 20 to 25 people. They need to have space for hair and make-up, and somewhere to organise their costumes. There needs to be a prop storage area. We also need a media centre for 1,000 members of the press and a press conference room. The logistics behind the stage are extraordinary. Cities such as Basel, Malmö and Liverpool are well equipped, but there’s the soft factor too. You want to have a city that embraces the values of the brand and wants to do something with it; that tends to be a country’s second or third city. The biggest cities have so much happening already. 

Those logistics are comparable to the biggest international music tours, right?
When we produced the Eurovision Song Contest in Malmö back in 2013, the last big show before us was Lady Gaga’s tour – at that time, the world’s biggest. Lady Gaga had something like 30 semi-trailers of technology and props. We had 97. And now, we have more than 200. I love when people talk about the Super Bowl; Eurovision is the Super Bowl on steroids. 

Let’s talk about the 2024 show, which was incredibly successful in terms of viewing numbers but also controversial. 
The truth is that the Eurovision Song Contest started in 1956 as an experiment in new technology but it also had that big idea of uniting people across borders at a time when Europe had become very divided. That’s one of the main reasons why it’s become so popular. Throughout the almost 70-year history – this is the longest-running show on television – lots has happened in Europe. Unfortunately, we live in a time of conflict and division but that just makes the Song Contest even more important. We believe that we have a higher purpose: for a few nights, we can imagine the world as we would like it to be, not necessarily as it is. That’s what gets us out of bed in the morning.

“For a few nights, we can imagine the world as we would like it to be, not necessarily as it is”

How do you manage the delicate question of artists expressing political views?
The arrival of social media has changed things and artists who participate in this event suddenly have their own platform. Popular culture has always been opinionated – and it must be to be contemporary. It’s an expression of identity, of what’s going on in the world and what you think about it. We understand that but we also have a set of rules that say that you’re not supposed to use the Song Contest to express political views. And that does become more challenging when we’re in a divisive time. Unfortunately, over the past few years, we’ve had the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan. They both participate. We’ve had the invasion of Ukraine. And now we have the conflict in the Middle East. It’s difficult to be that neutral space when things like this are going on.

Some of those conflicts will be ongoing during this year’s show…
We don’t expect anything else but it’s important that we find a way through it. In Malmö [the 2024 edition], the latest conflict in the Middle East was relatively new and we were the first big international event to come on stage with an Israeli delegation. I think we became a little bit too passive, a little bit too silent. And we’re not making those mistakes again. We’re going to be much more proactive. We’re going to be much more communicative. We’ve introduced new codes of conduct and duty-of-care protocols. But, ultimately, it’s about mutual respect. We are supposed to be a kind, gentle event. Hate, violence and toxicity have no place in the Eurovision Song Contest. 

And there have been some new additions to the team as well.
One of the things that we realised in Malmö was that we were understaffed because the event has grown so much. We’re now a global entertainment superbrand with millions and millions of followers. We needed more support for the leadership, crisis communications and everything that has to do with managing an international brand. That’s why broadcast events leader Martin Green was recruited, which is great for us.

Lots of fans would like to see Turkey back [after it withdrew over perceived bias]. Would it be welcome? 
We would love to have Turkey back because of the fanbase there. There’s a massive fanbase in Russia too. I’d love to be able to serve those fans with Eurovision. Unfortunately, in the case of Russia, that is looking difficult. But in 20 years from now, I would love to see Turkey and Russia participating.

“Public service media is more important today than it has ever been”

At the heart of Eurovision are public service broadcasters, which each fund and organise their country’s participation. Have attitudes toward those organisations changed?
There are a lot of political voices who think that public service media is something that we no longer need but we believe that public service media is probably more important today than it has ever been. With all the new channels of communication and information, it’s harder to figure out what is going on in the world and what is true. 

What’s your favourite moment in the show? 
Right at the beginning when the clock starts and then it’s Eurovision time. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it. I find the energy in the venue to be like nothing else.

Finally, what music do you enjoy listening to in your spare time?
I listen to the Eurovision songs until I’ve learned them completely. I also watch every single rehearsal. I have to learn every detail of every performance to be able to see if something goes wrong. So when Eurovision is over, I need something different. Most likely, classical music.

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From media polarisation and falling subscriptions to fake news and the threat of artificial intelligence, the challenges facing journalism are a familiar topic to anyone who, well, follows the news. Even in Germany, where it is still common practice to flip through a broadsheet every morning, many major newsrooms are going through rounds of layoffs. But the country’s capital is also home to a new bastion of optimism named Publix. Located on Hermannstrasse, a hectic street in the Neukölln neighbourhood of Berlin, this hack’s haven is an institution entirely dedicated to journalists and pro-democracy organisations. 

“This is a kind of editorial utopia,” says Maria Exner, director of Publix, as she greets monocle on a sunny Monday morning. In the glass-walled foyer of the building, which opened last September, a barista is making espressos while tables are occupied by people tapping away on laptops. A wide wooden staircase, which doubles as a stage during panel talks and readings, leads to the upper floors. Here, a badge is needed to enter: the first floor is a co-working space for media professionals, with fees starting at €179 per month, while the four storeys above host permanent offices for organisations including Reporters Without Borders and investigative outlet Correctiv. 

Publix is the initiative of the Lörrach-based Schöpflin Foundation, a low-profile but deep-pocketed philanthropic organisation. Founded by entrepreneur and investor Hans Schöpflin, it has long been a funder of local and start-up journalism in Germany. The idea for a physical space came from seeing how many Berlin-based organisations were struggling in the city’s tight property market. “Many would have to move offices every year, or even several times a year,” says Exner. When a partly disused cemetery on Hermannstrasse chose to sell a part of its land to the non-profit initiative, the idea grew in scope, expanding to co-working spaces and public programming.

“We always said that this is a building without a model,” says Ulrike Dix, a partner at AFF, the architecture practice behind the design. Indeed, there are similar journalists’ houses elsewhere but none have the size or scope of Publix. To figure out the building’s needs, the team set up a panel with its future tenants to steer the planning process. But the board made few design demands, mostly stressing the need for secure computer systems and data storage. “Journalists are used to working anywhere,” says Dix. “They’re not used to thinking of their needs in terms of architecture.” Exner, who was previously editor-in-chief at Zeit Magazin, chimes in. “When we started a podcast [before the Publix outpost was built], we set up our first studio in an old server room,” she says, laughing. 

Despite the relaxed brief, the architects delivered something remarkable. The six-storey building makes the most of its slim site: with a busy street on one side and a lush park on the other. There are floor-to-ceiling windows throughout that bathe the building in light. “We wanted to create a sense of transparency,” says Dix. Tenants have open-plan offices and plenty of meeting rooms – named after activists and journalists such as Alexei Navalny and Letizia Battaglia – all in a simple palette of raw concrete, galvanised steel and Douglas fir. “We didn’t look to co-working spaces that are furnished like a home,” says Dix. “We wanted this to feel like a workshop for journalism.” Naturally, there are audio and film studios that are used by tenants and can be rented. 

The safety demands of the tenants turned out to be no exaggeration. In January 2024, only a few months before moving into their new offices, Correctiv published an exposé of a secret conference in Potsdam that plotted the “remigration” of people with foreign backgrounds. The bombshell report led to both protests in opposition to the rising far right in Germany and a wave of lawsuits and harassment against Correctiv. “There were people standing outside our offices, filming,” says co-editor-in-chief Justus von Daniels. Once they moved into Publix, that became more difficult: the offices are tucked away behind multiple locked doors. “Here, we had the fortune to decide what kind of offices we wanted.” 

Publix has opened to high demand. There are already more than 400 registered tenants, though, according to Exner, “nobody comes in every day”. The journalists have done far-reaching work: editor Tobias Haberkorn got a new magazine, the Berlin Review, off the ground thanks to the support of the Publix fellowship, while the first documentary partly filmed at the building, about the German pension system, aired in January on public-service broadcaster ZDF. Exner is now focused on establishing Publix as an international hub for the future of journalism and public discourse. “My hope is that the organisations inside this building take really novel, experimental approaches to editorial work,” she says. Exner lists AI-generated headlines, low media literacy and the fragmentation of news media as just some of the looming threats to journalism, though Germany has, so far, been less affected by these than other countries. “Luckily, Germany tends to be 10 years behind other countries,” says Exner. With Publix, it is suddenly setting an example.
publix.de

Tiffany’s X 1905
Thessaloniki

A classic mageirio, Tiffany’s served homely dishes to Thessaloniki’s diners for some 40 years before closing in 2013. Now, Tiffany’s X 1905 (pictured above) is bringing it back – with a twist. “We didn’t want to copy the original but to invent a modern version,” says restaurateur Nikos Nyfoudis, who draws inspiration from Crete, Kefalonia, London (where he lived for 13 years) and his native Thessaloniki. Oenologist Anestis Haitidis procured about 550 varietals for the wine list, for pairing with the kontosouvli (spit-roasted pork), Tinos pickled artichokes and braised lamb with yoghurt. For dessert, try the kiounefe – a pastry shell filled with mozzarella cheese.
tiffanys1905.gr

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Jason
Helsinki

Finland’s Jari Vesivalo, a chef with decades of experience in his capital’s Michelin-starred kitchens, has shifted gear to open a casual joint, Jason. “The goal in the kitchen is to make good food without unnecessary gimmicks,” says Vesivalo of the 50-cover venue in a dark-hued art nouveau building. Monocle is treated to seasonal dishes on our visit: mushrooms with sour plum and white soy, and pike perch served with lobster butter sauce. “Our portions are hearty and we don’t align every salad leaf on the plate,” says Vesivalo with a chuckle. “But I still organise the kitchen like I used to.”
ravintolajason.fi

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Somma
Singapore

After the success of his seaside bistro Fico, Singapore-based Italian chef Mirko Febbrile embarked on a fresh fine-dining venture: Somma. Within the city-state’s New Bahru retail and hospitality complex, this collaboration with The Lo & Behold Group takes inspiration from Febbrile’s home province, Puglia. The intimate 36-cover restaurant offers a tasting menu, while the bar is more casual, with options from taralli crackers to handmade pasta with river crab. Cocktails include Italian aperitivos and experimental creations: the whiskey-based Bolognese Muse is unmissable.
somma.world

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Italian icon

At Zegna, creative director Alessandro Sartori aims for a quintessentially Italian look: relaxed silhouettes, dropped shoulders and artisanal quality, mastered at the company’s historic Piedmont factory. 

Left: Suit and shirt by Zegna, glasses by Mykita.
Right: Jumper by Beams Plus, shirt and t-shirt by Graphpaper, shorts by Herno, sandals by JM Weston, glasses by Mykita

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Free and breezy

Kyoto-based Graphpaper, is best known for its boxy supima cotton shirts, selvedge denim and relaxed tapered trousers. The latter look best when rolled up and paired with leather sandals on sunny days. 

Left: Shirt by Visvim, t-shirt by Eton, trousers by Graphpaper, sandals by JM Weston, glasses by Mykita
Right: Jacket by Moncler, shorts by Loro Piana, glasses by Mykita

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Science conviction

Polyploid is a Berlin-based label, founded by Isolde Auguste Richly, a designer known for the scientific precision with which he cuts patterns and sources fabric. The result is meticulously crafted wardrobe essentials, including shirts manufactured between Germany and Japan. 

Left: Hoodie by Visvim, shirt and shorts by Bodhi, t-shirt by Comoli, glasses by Mykita, SBGW301 watch by Grand Seiko
Right: Shirt by Polyploid, trousers by Emporio Armani, sandals by JM Weston, belt by Hermès, glasses by Mykita

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Classics reimagined

Sans Limite is the brainchild of Comme des Garçons veteran Yusuke Monden. He started with a sharp edit of six shirts and has since continued to perfect his concept: wardrobe classics made well. 

Left: Jacket and shorts by Prada, shirt by Sans Limite, espadrilles by Polo Ralph Lauren, glasses by Mykita
Right: Jacket by Loro Piana, shirt by Graphpaper, jumper by Zanone, t-shirt by Eton, trousers by Beams Plus, sandals by JM Weston, glasses by Mykita

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Come rain, come shine

Herno is an authority in outerwear, having been created in 1948 in Lesa, Italy, to fulfil a growing demand for raincoats in the region. Today the family-owned business remains our go-to for waterproof essentials made with durable, innovative materials. 

Left: Coat, shirt and trousers by Brioni, sandals by JM Weston, glasses by Mykita
Right: Coat by Herno, shirt by Polo Ralph Lauren, jumper by Beams Plus, thermalshirt by Polyploid, trousers by Blurhms, sandals by JM Weston, glasses by Mykita 

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Sight to behold

The appetite for refinement in fashion has returned – and with it, accessories such as hats, gloves and optical glasses are rising in popularity. Mykita remains our go-to for sleek, metal frames, made at the label’s high-end manufacturing facility in Berlin. 

Left: Jacket by Comoli, shirt by Glanshirt, trousers by Emporio Armani, boots by JM Weston, glasses by Mykita
Right: Jacket by Stone Island, thermal shirt by Polyploid, trousers by Aton, sandals by Hender Scheme, glasses by Mykita

Left: Coat by Hevò, jacket by Porter Classic, t-shirt by Comoli, trousers by Devorè Incipit, sandals by Hender Scheme, glasses by Mykita
Right: Jacket by Visvim, jumper by Comoli, polo shirt and trousers by Polo Ralph Lauren, BVLGARI BVLGARI watch by Bulgari, glasses by Mykita

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Styling: Akio Hasegawa
Grooming: Kenichi Yaguchi 
Producer: Shigeru Nakagawa
Model: Ikken Yamamoto

In February, Monocle travelled to Dubai for the World Governments Summit, a gathering of global leaders, innovators and technology players. It’s an impressive summit with numerous talks and events, and we were at the heart of the action with a pop-up Monocle Radio booth (as well as our café). Over three days we welcomed numerous guests into the studio. What follows are just a few of the conversations that unfolded around the mic.

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The experience is the same for other islands. We are very small economies, highly vulnerable to environmental shocks but also to global economic shocks. When we talk about responsiveness and preparedness, of course, we do take initiatives at the national level but also at the provincial and community level. We work closely with NGOs and other international partners and countries but disasters happen despite your good efforts. The recovery part of it is always the most challenging. It’s a daunting responsibility. Investing in economic as well as social infrastructure – human capital, education, health – is critical, because once you improve those indicators, that increases the resilience of your community and the population.

Forums like [the WGS] provide that platform where we can forge ahead and remind ourselves that climate change and sea-level rises require global partnerships going forward.”

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Anime has transformed culture and has a huge effect not only on tourism to Japan but also on the fashion, technology and gaming industries. When the South Korean government invested in infrastructure around K-pop, it helped to create a billion-dollar industry. When there’s a structure built around storytelling, it can be transformative. The storytelling matters the most. 

It’s exciting that technologies such as AI are helping artists to enjoy greater autonomy because they don’t need major backing to create something meaningful, though there are tensions around this. It’s ironic that many artists are against AI. They are afraid of change and don’t want their jobs to be taken away. But until we reach the singularity, technology will be behind human ingenuity. It’s a tool. The creativity still lies in how you use it and how much culture, art and information you have ingested over the years. Our brains are the original large language models.”

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Dubai, in particular, has become a magnet for global talent from around the world. But more than that, I’ve seen an increased confidence and awareness that the region can lead and is leading in key parts of the economy. People come here because you can learn from the region itself.  If you look at technology in general, over the decades it has increased inequality. And that’s the surprising thing that many don’t realise.

A lot of people think of mobile phones and such as having equalised society. But look at the differences they’ve increased in the world, mainly because technology has a multiplying effect. People who are richer typically have societies that are richer. These typically have better technology, they have higher skills, they have more resources and they’re able to combine that technology to create higher value. Societies that are poor or people who are poorer essentially have less good technology. They have lesser resources, they have smaller networks and lower levels of education. They do create value with technology but they create less value. And over time, that gap increases.

The same thing is happening with AI. You’re finding some companies – and some countries – are going to create enormous value with AI, while others will get less value. I’m not saying that they’ll get zero value but proportionately less. So is the gap going to increase between those that have the capacity to leverage it better and those that don’t? The answer is yes. It’s going to create a more unequal world. And that’s the challenge. I don’t think technology is ever really democratised. That’s a myth. Technology doesn’t make the world more equal. It has actually made the world more unequal.”

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We have a very specific climate, so we have species and a biodiversity that thrives in extreme environments with very high temperatures in the summer. This could be a solution for other parts of the world, where because of global warming and climate change, you see a loss of biodiversity. So I really believe that the region has a lot to give. Our success has been to change the narrative.

When we started Goumbook, we were talking about going green. Sustainability was seen as a movement coming from Europe and the US. What I realised when I moved to the UAE was that there wasn’t a focus in the region. We couldn’t talk about forests here, or polar bears and melting ice. We had to change the narrative and start looking at the desert, arid environments, the lack of water. So that’s where we started campaigns focusing on the Arab world. And that’s when things started to change.”

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That’s where AI helps. We work with AI today in enriching guest insights. Ultimately, it’s about how you gather this information and make it available to team members so that they’re better enabled to care for our guests and really take personalisation to the next level.”

Keep up to date with the latest in international affairs by tuning in to Monocle Radio’s daily news shows ‘The Globalist’, ‘The Briefing’ and ‘The Monocle Daily’ at monocle.com/radio

Europe is often portrayed as a tech underdog, lacking a single giant firm of the calibre found in Silicon Valley. In February, during an AI summit in Paris, US vice-president JD Vance poured scorn on Europe’s regulatory regime, arguing that it stifles progress. 

But all that is to miss the bigger picture: there are companies across the continent proving their competitiveness; you just need to know where to look. In northern Italy, Ephos is developing energy-efficient photonic chips that use light instead of electricity for data processing. Unlike traditional chipmakers, it focuses on glass-based technology, which is touted as being more energy-efficient than silicon chips, especially in the resource-intensive demands of AI and quantum computing. 

The company recently secured $8.5m (€8m) in funding and opened the first glass-based quantum photonic circuit facility in Milan’s Innovation District. In a recent edition of The Entrepreneurs on Monocle Radio, CEO Andrea Rocchetto admits that Europe has been a bit slow out of the blocks.

“We need a shake-up, no doubt, but negativity isn’t helpful,” he says. “Change will come from working with the US and embracing a more global outlook.” Ephos has a broad range of investors, with major support from the US and partnerships with organisations such as Nato; it is proof that Europe remains a strong and innovative player. “Barriers to collaboration are rising but we can’t compete with the US and China in isolation,” says Rocchetto. Indeed, as Silicon Valley increasingly throws its lot in with the Trump administration, a backlash to these tech giants is growing. In this more uncertain world, Europe has an opportunity to strengthen its own ecosystem and become more competitive if it’s willing to seize the day. 

For more visionary ideas, listen to ‘The Entrepreneurs’ on Monocle Radio, or download the show as a podcast on Spotify, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your audio.

After The Monocle Quality of Life Conference concluded in Istanbul in October, we took a crack team of readers on an adventure south. Everyone was a little depleted from a series of too-fun dinners, some dancefloor exuberance and taking in the joys of being in the boisterous city.

The delayed departure of the Istanbul to Bodrum flight wasn’t exactly what we had hoped for. But, secluded in the lounge, people started introducing themselves to one another and began revealing elements of their lives. We were a globally disparate pack – from Dubai, China, the Philippines, the US, Switzerland and the Netherlands – but we were all united by our mission to reach the beach resort of Macakizi. 

Landing at Milas-Bodrum Airport, we were met by a fleet of identical Land Rover Defenders, their drivers a well-turned-out and soothing team. We headed off into a dusky glow, as a bougainvillea-pink sun eased below the horizon. After brief and restorative dives from the jetty into the sea, everyone gathered for dinner at the hotel. By now we were a team, sitting together in the night air as conversations bounced back and forth across the table and laughter echoed. Over the next two days there were boat trips and snoozing, healthy lunches and books devoured. People relaxed. Characters shone. It all flowed from a couple of days spent in a well-run hotel where the luxuries were discreet and the service exemplary. I have been feeding off of that brief sojourn’s warm glow ever since; you can plan a stay too after reading our report.

This is why we travel. Whether your adventure involves driving along the Albanian coast, crisscrossing Greek mountains or finding quiet roads and outposts in remote Australia (all in this magazine), the simple act of setting off on a journey holds the potential to reset your mind, make you feel at ease, fill you with new ideas and introduce you to places and people who might just change your life (or prove to be perfect company after a Monocle conference).

While planning 2024’s outing of The Escapist, we sought out new perspectives and destinations, lifted the lid on the business of travel and met the hospitality architects changing our hotels for the better. We also interviewed the industry chiefs in attendance at the International Luxury Travel Market in Cannes to find out where trends will be taking us and looked at everything from upscale train brands to aircraft design. In short, The Escapist is a bulging suitcase of reports and ideas.

But this isn’t our only deep dive into travel. In Monocle, you’ll find The Concierge pages, where we guide you to the best places to stay, dine and visit across the globe. And, very soon, we’ll be unveiling a new world of travel at monocle.com as we explore how to guide you around the world with ease. But for now, sit back, read the pages and start dreaming. Life awaits.

Anyone who has visited Bangkok will know Sukhumvit Road. It’s the Thai capital’s answer to Oxford Street, Orchard Road or Fifth Avenue, all rolled into one. Visitors of every stripe are drawn to this traffic-clogged, six-lane stretch of central Bangkok. But there’s far more than the shopping malls, five-star hotels and hostess bars with questionable names (Spanky’s, we’re looking at you).

In total, Sukhumvit Road rolls east for almost 500km. Highway 3, as it is also called, travels along the Gulf of Thailand through six provinces and alongside dozens of undeveloped sandy islands, right up to the Cambodian border. It’s one of Thailand’s longest and most famous roads and one of the most significant markers of the country’s rapid economic development in the late 20th century, when US military money flooded in during the Vietnam War and let Thailand leave its war-torn neighbours in the dust.

Might the future of Thailand’s all-important travel and tourism industry lie this way too? While many visitors take flights south to the busy islands or north to the nation’s hill country, there’s some space to develop in the wilder, lesser-known east. Our “Made in Thailand” stamped Mitsubishi Pajero Sport is part of the story too. The Japanese automaker produces most of these suvs from factories near Laem Chabang, Thailand’s largest port and one of the lesser-sought spots on Highway 3. Our trip doesn’t take us off-road but it does take us off the beaten track. On the way, we’ll encounter fighter jets, rare gems, French colonial leftovers and a Scandinavian enclave with a royal seal of approval. There could even be an international incident when we arrive at our tropical destination. This is Thailand without crowds, tuks-tuks, billboards or even a 7/11.

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Day 1:
Chon Buri

Our journey begins in downtown Bangkok, where Ploen Chit becomes Highway 3. Sukhumvit Road is the commercial and residential heart of the modern Thai capital and our first stop is the offices of Siam Seaplane near Bumrungrad Hospital (a mecca for medical tourists). The aviation start-up, which began in 2019 with the ambition to relaunch the seaplane sector in Thailand, swapped a regular office tower for a converted house on one of the many “sois” or alleys that run off Sukhumvit. “The trend of travel is going to go east in the next five years,” says Worakanya Siripidej, CEO and co-founder of Siam Seaplane, before running through a list of infrastructure developments and hotel openings in our direction of travel. Siripidej expects to launch her first seaplane flights in 2025 and her team has been busy signing deals with beachside resorts in the Gulf of Thailand. These will let customers fly straight from Bangkok aboard a fleet of Cessna Caravans fitted out like private jets. Eager to see the lay of the land, we jump back in the Pajero and dive straight into a traffic jam – quiet time. Thai’s don’t honk. At all. This remarkable display of collective enlightenment makes driving easy on the ears and more forgiving for uncertain out-of-towners. 

The elevated BTS “Sukhumvit Line” runs down the middle of Sukhumvit Road, casting a shadow on the shady business that populates this end. Money changers, tailors, massage parlours and shops selling cannabis are a primer for the seedy resort town of Pattaya, a favourite weekend destination for many Bangkokians. The closest stretch of hotel-lined sand to the capital is also the furthest east that many will have travelled. The arrival of family-friendly hotels, music festival Wonderfruit and the pygmy hippo Moo Deng (of internet meme fame) are, in their own ways, helping to change Pattaya’s reputation as a red-light resort. But we avoid the downtown area’s saucy nightlife altogether and plot a course for Jomtien Beach.

Canals run alongside the road for much of the drive through two provinces, Samut Prakan and Chachoengsao. Rudimentary arched bridges cross the narrow waterways at various points. We could be on the outskirts of Amsterdam, only without any bikes. Crossing into Chon Buri, we make a brief pit stop at the ptt petrol station in Si Racha – birthplace of the famous hot sauce – to fill up the tank and get takeaway coffees from Café Amazon.

Two hours later, having driven past Thailand’s largest port, we pull into Southeast Asia’s largest marina and the stomping ground of Aussie harbour master Scott Finsten. According to the Sydneysider, who takes Monocle on a golf-cart tour of his growing number of piers and superyachts, many Thais “discovered the charms of boating” during the pandemic, when money normally spent on shopping trips to Singapore and Hong Kong paid for pleasure cruisers instead. His job is to give them reasons to use their new vessels. “This used to be called the graveyard for yacht brokers but you can now jump in a taxi in Bangkok and they will know Ocean Marina,” he says, back on dry land. As the sun begins to set, we sip iced lemon tea and watch a boat being lifted out of the water. A colleague comes over for help with a visiting yacht owner who doesn’t want to check in. Finsten recently addressed an industry gathering in Kuala Lumpur and his sales pitch for the Gulf of Thailand is simple: year-round cruising, no typhoons and a boatload of uninhabited islands.

By 18.00 it’s dark and bunking options for yacht-less overland travellers in Na Jomtien are good. Boutique hotel Mason is nearby and The Standard is landing here soon. Checking into Thailand’s first Andaz hotel, which opened here in 2023 in a beautifully landscaped former family estate, deserves the hype it’s garnered. A missed lunch is made up for by an order of pork ribs on the steakhouse veranda. And, as this is Thailand, there’s mango sticky rice on the menu.

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Day 2:
Rayong

At sunrise the sea is calm, the sky is blue and the busy capital feels a long way away. The Gulf of Thailand is a tranquil stretch of water and the scenery on Sukhumvit Road begins to get a lot more green and tropical as it curls around Chon Buri’s southern peninsula. Sattahip is the Royal Thai Navy’s turf and home of Thailand’s largest naval base. The seafaring admirals even rule the airspace at U-Tapao International Airport in neighbouring Rayong.

The US military built the runway for bombing raids during the Vietnam war. That’s probably why civilian travellers arriving to take a flight are met at the entrance road by a “Welcome to U-Tapao” sign and a decommissioned fighter jet parked on a roundabout. At least for now. By 2055, U-Tapao will have a new runway and terminals for civilian use capable of handling 60 million passengers a year. That’s a considerable increase on the sleepy airport’s current traffic. Construction of the runway is expected to start in 2025, according to Chula Sukmanop, secretary-general of the Eastern Economic Corridor Office of Thailand, a government body put in charge of managing the airport on behalf of the navy. “[The eastern seaboard] has been the area where foreign investment has come into the country for a long time,” says Sukmanop, who usually acts as a one-stop shop for foreign investors, from Chinese electric car manufacturers to European eyewear brands. “We are the gateway to Thailand and it is our job to make that gateway bigger,” he says.

The central government is working with some of the country’s largest corporations to build a high-speed railway between U-Tapao and Bangkok, plus a new airport city made up of conference facilities, luxury condominiums and an Formula One-grade racing track. But progress is slow-going. Our tour of the site takes in the near-completed jet-fuel tanks and a well-placed solar panel farm.

Leaving the airport behind, we turn off Sukhumvit Road and head to the beach for some lunch: grilled shrimp and deep-fried sea bass at the original branch of seafood restaurant Laem Charoen, now a national chain.  For afters, something sweet and juicy from Taphong Fruit Market. Agriculture is a big part of Thailand’s economy and the east is the place for exotic fruits. The harvest in May and June hosts orchard tours and a fruit festival starring fresh durian, mangosteens, longans and lychees. When it comes to sun-worshippers though, October to April is the best season for this part of the country, when Phuket and the south of Thailand get rained on.

Rayong’s coastline has long stretches of golden sand and Mae Phim Beach is a favourite winter perch for migrating Scandinavians. Pasi Marjamaki arrived in Mae Phim at the beginning of the century to work for a Swedish-owned property developer and launched his own estate agency in 2023. “There was almost nothing here when I arrived except the odd few restaurants,” says the Finn, while taking Monocle on a tour and pointing out where the Swedish king and queen sometimes stay at a friend’s house. “This place essentially started because of Scandinavians.”

Silver-haired Swedes might have bought the first generation of second homes but Marjamaki’s recent transactions have been with remote workers in their thirties and forties from both the East and the West. Seeing the area’s potential, Marjamaki will soon begin his first property development: a series of seven standalone homes called The Boulevard, set back from the beach. He estimates that the price of one rai (1,600 sq m) of beachfront land in Mae Phim has shot up from about thb3m (€83,000) to thb25m (€693,000).

French hospitality firm Accor recently opened a second wing of the Mercure site in Mae Phim, next to Marjamaki’s office. Monocle checks in. A rooftop restaurant overlooking the ocean has yet to open, so we head to the sister property to eat grilled squid with a green papaya salad by the water. Come nightfall the horizon across this part of the Gulf of Thailand glows green with lights from squid-fishing boats.

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Day 3:
Chanthaburi

Sukhumvit Road was originally carved out of the tropical shrubbery in the 1930s and named after a former transport chief. The highway passes through a handful of unremarkable cities en route to Cambodia. As each two-storey town flashes by the passenger window, a pattern emerges: Japanese car showroom, Big C supermarket, ptt petrol station and a local building-supplies merchant. We leave Rayong and enter Chanthaburi, deciding to stop over in the province’s namesake capital, which has become a favourite with hospitality entrepreneurs seeking a slower pace of life.

Founders Chaiwat and Pinyapat Treeratsakulchai opened The Gardener café in 2016 and the adjoining bakery, L’Oeuf, in 2022. “I can’t live in Bangkok any more; it’s too busy,” says Chaiwat, who grew up in the Thai capital. The architect met his wife in Phuket while working at the same design studio and they later returned to her hometown. When Chaiwat and Pinyapat are not in the kitchen baking for financiers or working behind the counter, the 30-somethings run their own studio, Paper House.

Armed with an iced coffee and Treeratsakulchai’s signature cream-cheese banana bread, Monocle sets off to explore Chanthaburi on foot. The French briefly occupied this multicultural, multifaith settlement of half a million people at the turn of the 19th century, adding a Gallic flavour to the existing blend of Thai, Vietnamese and Chinese cuisine and architecture – and presumably an appetite for dairy. The food group is big in Chanthaburi, which features everything from milk bars to milk-flavoured lollipops at Rocket Ice Cream shop. Lolly in hand, we wander the old town and spot a bare-footed monk in orange robes popping into The Reader bookshop to pick up his latest subscription.

Chanthaburi has been a trading centre for rubies and sapphires for hundreds of years. But it’s the locals returning from the nation’s capital with a design degree and work experience who are enriching the modern city more than the dwindling trade in rare stones. Easterly is another local gem. Motion-graphics designer Khanapong Pumarin opened the brunch spot and bar next to the canal-like Chanthaburi river. His elder sister’s coffee shop, cap, is celebrating its 10th anniversary with a new venue on the opposite side of Sukhaphiban Road. Easterly has a few rooms upstairs for overnight stopovers but the islands are calling and the Pajero is waiting just across the river, right next to Thailand’s largest cathedral. We jump in, head back to the Sukhumvit Road and make our way to Trat, the final Thai province before Cambodia.

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Day 4:
Koh Chang

An hour after leaving Chanthaburi we take the turn-off for Ao Thammachat ferry pier and pass by Trat Airport. The private terminal run by Bangkok Airways operates a few flights to Bangkok most days and is in the process of being expanded. Our Pajero joins a line-up of white Toyota minivans at Ao Thammachat, queuing for the ferry for Koh Chang, Thailand’s third-largest island, after Phuket and Samui. Koh Chang – which means “Elephant Island” in English, named because of its shape – ranks much lower for tourist traffic, despite the easy access. After a breezy 20-minute transfer, we’re soon rolling onto the northside dock before embarking on leisurely reconnaissance and driving up some surprisingly steep inclines. Most development is taking place on the island’s west, where the sun sets over idyllic beaches.

Having earned a rest, the Pajero pulls into The Retreat hotel near Kai Bae Beach. We take a comfy spot at the Ocean Terrace after checking in, then order a spicy green curry. A temporary stage nearby is waiting to be dismantled after hosting a 50-piece symphony orchestra. The 38-room resort and spa, designed by Bangkok-based Spacetime Architects, was opened by Mate Teeraniti and his parents in 2023. The Teeranitis’ relationship with this part of Thailand started out fairly typically for a Bangkok family (they didn’t go) before a customer of their mechanical and electrical engineering business opted to settle an outstanding bill with a hotel on Koh Chang called The Chill. “Koh Chang is not very well known and those who do know it have a preconceived idea that it’s difficult to get to,” says Teeraniti, whose childhood holidays were spent in Khao Yai, Hua Hin or Europe. The 29-year-old now visits Koh Chang once a month for business and takes part in the annual trail run. “People come here to relax, not to party,” he says. “The nature is incredible and it’s so different from Phuket and Samui. Once people see it for themselves they are always impressed.” Most of the island is a protected national park, so there’s a ceiling on the development; it will never become another Phuket, despite the recent appearance of big chains such as ihg. Teeraniti sits on the tourism committee and talks of managing growth carefully. “The scene has been maturing for the past two years – but slowly,” he says.

To really escape the crowds, we must leave the Pajero and continue by foot. The 90-minute catamaran ride from Koh Chang’s southern pier provides an opportunity to catch up with the latest news about our final destination. The tiny island of Koh Kut hit the front pages in recent months because of an oil exploration deal signed with Cambodia in 2001 involving Thaksin Shinwatra, Thailand’s former leader and father of the current prime minister. Will we be greeted by flag-waving nationalists? The Thai navy? Far from it. When we disembark and make our way to the luxury Soneva Kiri resort, staff and guests seem to live in a different timezone, whizzing around on golf carts and following a “no shoes, no news” mantra. Any political squabble over this patch of Thailand, home to a few thousand Thai residents, says more about infighting in the capital than any genuine territorial dispute with Phnom Penh. Riding a Honda scooter under a cloudless blue sky, the scenery couldn’t be more different to Bangkok – or Phuket, Chiang Mai and Samui for that matter. There are no vans with loud hailers advertising muay thai fights. They aren’t even any beach hawkers. Shops sell fishing tackle, wine and whisky, in that order.

The island’s main hotelier has named several properties after characters from Neverland: Captain Hook, Peter Pan and Wendy. As the sun sets on the clear, calm waters of Tinkerbell Beach, a few couples bob in the sea while a pair of paddleboarders glide along the horizon. In the morning a catamaran will reconnect us with our Pajero at Laem Chabang, ready for the six-hour drive back to Bangkok. But for now, there’s a fairytale ending to enjoy.

The 50-minute flight from Perth to Albany, Western Australia, sets a fitting tone for the rural adventure that lies ahead. We head south in a Saab 340, a 34-seater, twin- engine turboprop. Passengers lean across the narrow aisle to chat and the sole flight attendant joins in on the small talk as she hands out tea and biscuits. Later she whips out a pen to tally how many aboard need taxis upon landing.

With a population just shy of 40,000, Albany is the largest town in The Great Southern, a region in Western Australia that is dominated by livestock and crops, delicious and underrated wines, and some of the world’s most beautiful, and emptiest, stretches of coastline. The town’s interlocking influences – its swashbuckling, whale- hunting heritage and the genteel elegance of its colonial architecture – give it an unusual charm.

It’s also a port, surrounded by great seafood. Our first stop is Ocean and Paddock for fish and chips and catch of the day, which might be grilled snapper, nannygai, which is native to Australian waters, or even hammerhead shark.

Monocle hires a car and heads out of town; within minutes, low-lying bungalows give way to fields studded with hay bales and drowsy cattle. We speed west on National Route One, the 14,500km ring road that circumnavigates Australia, spotting kangaroos and emus as we go.

Our next stop, an hour’s drive west of Albany, is Moombaki Wines, run by husband and wife David Britten and Melissa Boughey. They moved to The Great Southern 30 years ago and bought about 40 hectares of land – not quite enough to raise cattle but perfect for a small vineyard. They planted shiraz, malbec, cabernet sauvignon and chardonnay, as well as a copse of indigenous tingle trees, which line the driveway and add to the land’s biodiversity. “We love being in nature, growing things and appreciating the seasons,” says Boughey, who is also an artist. “You really notice everything.” Her studio overlooks the valley and its colours and textures inspire her painting. She finds a paper map of the area and sketches a route. We follow her suggestions, wandering under centuries-old trees in the Valley of the Giants and exploring beaches with wide shorelines, lapping waves and not a soul in sight.

We stop in Denmark, a small town about half an hour’s drive from Moombaki, for that Australian classic, the ham and cheese toastie at a small café, before capping off the day at Elephant Rocks beach, so named for the huge stones that shield bathers from the intimidating waves of the Southern Ocean and provide ideal springboards from which to leap into the turquoise water.

For the night, Aiyana Retreat, just outside Denmark, offers private villas and a spa; for a more rustic form of luxury, there are Upland Farm’s chic cabins nearby. We begin the next morning as one must in Australia: with impeccable flat whites and avocado toast at Ravens Coffee in Denmark. After exploring the town, we drive 10 minutes to The Lake House, a winery with a picturesque restaurant and the option to pick up a packed lunch in a hamper for a lakeside picnic. “It ticks all the boxes,” says Gary Capelli, who runs the winery with his wife, Leanne Rogers. He calls Denmark “an idyllic country town”.

Back in the car, we pass handwritten advertisements for organic honey and blueberries and spot more kangaroos. We opt for the scenic route through Mount Lindesay National Park. The lush pastoral countryside turns into a sparser, drier beauty as we drive, crowded with thin, fraying spines of jarrah, karri and tingle trees. All of a sudden we’re in open country – no more trees, just low-growing bush and rock – and the dirt track beneath us is the unmistakable red of the Australian outback. Then the red becomes white and we see black husks of trees, survivors of a recent bush fire. We keep going, mesmerised by the starkness. But this is four-by-four terrain and the tyres on our rental are shifting uneasily on the sandy ground, so we turn back – this is not the best place to be stranded with no phone service. Soon after turning around, we pull over to help a holidaying Scottish motorcyclist haul his glossy Honda CB500X out of the deep rut in which it has become mired – a reminder of what might have happened to us. About two hours later we reach Frankland River, a town of about 350 residents that makes Denmark look like Albany, Albany look like Perth and Perth look like Tokyo. We drop into the general store, where a man in a bush hat recommends dinner at the country club across the road. He promises that the food is good; just as well, since it’s the only option in town. We ask whether we need a reservation and he laughs us out of the shop.

We’re staying smack in the middle of the vineyards in Alkoomi Wines, in a wooden chalet with a wraparound veranda, built on low stilts to prevent snakes slithering through the door. We dip warm bread into Alkoomi olive oil – we can see the grove from where we are sitting – and sample wines ranging from a springy young riesling to a rich 15-year-old shiraz with co-owner Sandy Hallett, who is the third generation of her family to run the farm. “People love to stay here because it’s remote and quiet,” she says. “You go to sleep and there’s no noise. And it’s so beautiful.”

After our “schniti” (schnitzel) and “parmi” (chicken parmigiana) at the country club, we retire to the chalet. It’s a cool night; at some point the light drumming of hail begins its quiet chorus outside. But it’s a peaceful, natural sound and sleep comes deep and easy.

We drive into town for breakfast at the Frankland Farmhouse Diner, Frankland River’s newest – and only – café. There are homemade sausage rolls and stacks of the local newspaper, The Franklander, on the counter. We take our coffees outside to sip in the sunshine and, during a lull in service, owner Aleksandar Sasa Bacich emerges for a chat. After 22 years working as a chef in Margaret River, Bacich bought a farmhouse in Frankland River. He has a vineyard and enough olive trees to make his own olive oil for the diner, which opened in October. “I love the pace here,” says Bacich. “In Margaret River right now, the surf is busy, everyone’s kind of stressed. It’s much more relaxed here.”

The drive back to Albany takes about 90 minutes and completes our triangular route. We visit Blush Retail Gallery, which exhibits artists from The Great Southern. Founder Angie Fryer-Smith, a painter herself, shows us around the space. For dinner we walk down the block to Liberté, a restaurant run by chef Amy Hamilton, who serves cocktails, wine and a seasonal menu of French-Vietnamese sharing plates. Through the bar window we watch the sun set over the bay.

A morning flight delay lets us squeeze in one more beach outing – time seems to move slower here anyway. We drive along the bay to Torndirrup National Park on the peninsula, struggling to choose between delightful names: shall we investigate Bald Head, Salmon Holes or Frenchman Bay? In the end we choose Misery Beach. The name speaks to a time when whale blood dyed the sea red during hunting season. Now little is left to divulge Albany’s fierce history: Misery Beach is a stunning, secluded spot, with glassy aquamarine waters, white-gold sand and only a couple other people enjoying the splendid isolation.