Dubai has never struggled for attention. What it has lacked is proper interpretation. For years, the city has been seen almost exclusively through extremes of height, scale, speed and spectacle. Such associations are convenient but lazy, flattening a place that is far more nuanced than its skyline suggests. If you spend time here – properly, attentively – a different picture emerges, one shaped not by monument-building alone but by trade, migration, hospitality and reinvention.

As Monocle’s Gulf correspondent, I’ve witnessed the city enter a more thoughtful phase. Creative districts such as Al Quoz are no longer chasing novelty. Waterfront neighbourhoods are being revamped with a discreet approach. Restaurants are being led by chefs with something to say about place and produce. Independent retail is here to stay and cultural institutions are showcasing regional voices, not just international ones. Dubai has not slowed down – but it has learned to pause and mature. 

Monocle’s City Guides have always been more about access than abundance. They are not exhaustive inventories or glossy checklists but rather carefully edited insights into a city’s inner workings – the places people revisit, recommend and build routines around. Dubai demanded the same treatment, perhaps even more than most destinations, so restraint was central to our approach. Not every opening made the cut. Not every landmark earned a mention. The focus is on institutions with originality and purpose, addresses worth crossing town for and returning to. 

Our Dubai guide was shaped through neighbourhoods that reveal themselves gradually: early mornings in Al Fahidi, afternoons spent moving between galleries, cafés and workshops in Al Quoz, late evenings in Satwa. It draws on the perspective of those who live and work here and understands the city’s rhythms beyond the usual weekend itinerary.

What emerged is a place best understood through its contrasts. Heritage courtyards a short walk from glass towers. Working souks beside design studios. Beach clubs that value atmosphere over perception. We also feature new design-led hotels alongside intimate guesthouses in older neighbourhoods. Hyper-seasonal kitchens share a page with long-standing seafood cafés and unfussy barbecue joints. Our retail section explores tailors, bookshops and concept boutiques.

Dubai rewards those willing to look past the obvious. Our guide is an invitation to do exactly that – to navigate the city in search of its quieter strengths. For readers who love cities not for their claims but for their character, Dubai is ready to be reconsidered.

Read Monocle’s guide to Dubai (and download our map) here

In a week when many capitals have traded threats, Abu Dhabi has quietly played host to trilateral talks between Washington, Moscow and Kyiv. At the World Governments Summit in Dubai, Dr Anwar Gargash spoke to Monocle Radio about why the UAE now occupies that narrow diplomatic space – and why the world increasingly needs it. 

Gargash, diplomatic adviser to the UAE president and a central figure in brokering last week’s unprecedented US-Ukraine-Russia meeting, frames the breakthrough as the product of long-term credibility rather than opportunism and confirms that a second round is due in Abu Dhabi “in a few days”. When Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022, the UAE chose to uphold international law, while refusing to sever relations with either country. “Everybody wanted us to take sides,” he says. “Our argument was clear: what we really want to do is to be helpful.” That approach, which attracted heavy criticism at the time, has since delivered results. Abu Dhabi has facilitated the exchange of more than 4,000 prisoners between Russia and Ukraine and maintained open channels with all three capitals. 

The World Governments Summit itself, he acknowledges, has landed at a moment of heightened regional tension. From the Gaza crisis and the renewed presence of US military power in the Gulf to rising international pressure on Iran, the atmosphere is febrile. But Gargash is notably measured. “The region is always tense,” he says. “If it’s not one issue, it’s another.” The task for diplomacy is not to amplify anxiety but to contain it. 

As US rhetoric hardens, Gargash is explicit about the UAE’s position on Iran. “As a neighbour, the last thing that we want to see is a military confrontation,” he says, adding that the UAE is “very concerned” about the prospect of escalation. War, he warns, would further destabilise a region already exhausted by conflict. 

Instead, Gargash urges Tehran to seize what he describes as a narrowing diplomatic window. “This is an opportunity to negotiate directly with the US,” he says, pointing to Iran’s nuclear programme as a central issue. Failure to address this, he cautions, could result in an escalation “not in favour of Iran or any of us”. 

The UAE’s neutrality is not passive. “You have to have enough distance from this party and that party,” he says. “And you have to be seen to say the same thing in public and behind closed doors.” In today’s geopolitical climate, where lines of communication are closing faster than conflicts are ending, that consistency is a form of leverage. The UAE’s growing role as a convenor is not accidental, nor is it ideological. It’s the product of deliberate restraint in an era that often rewards escalation. As the next round of US-Ukraine-Russia talks approaches and as pressure builds over Iran, the UAE is positioning itself not as a commentator on global crises but as a calming voice in the middle of them. 

For now, when rivals need a neutral room, a reliable phone line and a host willing to absorb criticism from all sides, they are not looking to traditional diplomatic capitals. They are calling the Gulf.  

Inzamam Rashid is Monocle’s Gulf correspondent. You can listen to our interview with Gargash on yesterday’s episode of ‘The Briefing’ and learn more about Monocle’s presence at the World Governments Summit here.

Brazil’s biggest party is just days away. Right now, revellers across the country are stocking up on glitter, body paint and fishnet tights. They’re putting the final touches on new costumes or shaking out old ones before the country grinds to a halt for Carnival. Held in the days running up to Lent, from 13 to 18 February this year, it’s a moment of collective catharsis when anything goes. From carefully choreographed samba school parades and blocos (roving street parties) to VIP balls, the celebrations come in myriad guises but are all shaped by creativity and tradition, and best approached with stamina and a sturdy pair of trainers. 

Carnival looks like wild hedonism to most but it’s also serious business. This year’s festivities are tipped to generate R$14.48bn (€2.32bn) in revenue and welcome 1.42 million tourists from abroad, both figures up 4 per cent on 2025, according to the National Confederation of Commerce of Goods, Services and Tourism (CNC). It’s a short window where big sponsorship deals are done, flights sell out, hotels run close to capacity and roughly 39,000 temporary jobs are created nationwide. With these sorts of gains up for grabs, Brazil’s major cities have been turning up the heat in their bids to host the biggest and best Carnival – and attract the greatest share of the 50 million or so partygoers who turn out across the country.

For the uninitiated, it might come as a surprise that Carnival is celebrated well beyond Rio. Sure, the picture postcard city has a long history with the event. It also bags the most global press coverage with photos of its “samba queens” – bikini-clad beauties with giant feathered headdresses, each representing a samba school competing in Rio’s official parade, hosted at a purpose-built “Sambadrome”. But Carnival is, in some shape or form, enjoyed in most Brazilian cities.

São Paulo – never to be outdone by its rival Rio – also has its own Sambadrome and official samba-school parade. In recent years, it has also begun to compete with Rio in the number of blocos, which can range from small groups of ragtag musicians marching around the streets to megablocos with hulking sound trucks that draw crowds of half a million or more. In 2020, São Paulo beat Rio’s street Carnival in the number of registered blocos for the first time ever: 644 to 453 – a lead that it has maintained in the years since.

Once the place where Brazilians visited precisely in order to escape the festivities, São Paulo now promotes itself as having the largest street Carnival – a claim that rubs other cities up the wrong way. Last year an online post by São Paulo City Hall went viral after announcing “the biggest street Carnival is coming soon”. Official City Hall profiles from Recife, Olinda and Salvador – three of the most iconic spots to celebrate, steeped in Northeastern traditions and rhythms – chimed in with wry comments. “Shall I count or will you?” wrote Salvador’s City Hall account.

São Paulo’s recent victory by bloco numbers is a fairly facile metric for success. Recife and Olinda – twin cities in Pernambuco state – are famed for their traditions, which were granted protected legal heritage status in 2025 (a nod to their cultural importance and also a way to access federal funding). Their street parties are rooted in musical traditions such as frevo, whose choreography calls for jumps, crouches and the spinning of colourful umbrellas. 

Carnival in Salvador, the capital of Bahia state, was also granted protected legal heritage status last year. There, blocos represent the city’s distinct Afro-Brazilian heritage while giant, glitzy sound trucks carry some of the country’s biggest musical stars. 

Cultural heritage is a big calling card for the likes of Salvador and Recife, especially during Carnival when revenues spike; both cities predict the festivities will inject more than R$2.6bn (€497m) into the local economy. São Paulo is projecting marginally higher revenues but nowhere near Rio’s estimated R$5.7bn (€924m). If true, will Rio claim victory as Brazil’s biggest Carnival? The metrics war will play out on different battlegrounds in the coming weeks. But whoever claims the crown, one thing is certain: a good time will be had by all.

Catherine Balston is a São Paulo-based journalist and writer. For more insight and analysis, subscribe to Monocle today.

Further reading? Here’s how French comedian Paul Cabannes has taken Brazil by storm

Winter has fully settled over large parts of the northern hemisphere, bringing with it frigid temperatures and short days. From Toronto to Tokyo, the mercury dips close to 0C and often slides even further down the thermometer. Daylight is scarce too, with the sun often disappearing beyond the horizon long before dinnertime. We still have more than 40 days until the spring equinox.

Though daylight is scarce, it’s no time to despair. Take it from a Finn, who knows a thing or two about staying cheerful in the cold and gloom. Despite its long and dark winters, during which temperatures can drop to minus 30C, Finland has been ranked the world’s happiest country by the UN for the past eight years. From getting cosy to scheduling social outings, here are five tips for staying positive when spring feels out of reach.

Embrace the darkness
No, this isn’t the title of the latest Iron Maiden album (though Finns do love heavy metal). Winter cheerfulness begins with acceptance. Yes, it is dark, but you can make the most of it. Do the things that are best enjoyed after sunset. Light some candles or sit by an open fire, if you have one. Pull on woollen socks and wrap yourself in a cosy blanket. Swap harsh overhead lighting for softer lamps. Read your favourite book or binge-watch that series that you keep hearing about. The Danes call this hygge but Finns have been doing it just as long, without bothering to give it a name. 

There are also social freedoms that come with winter. In summer, when Finland enjoys more than 20 hours of daylight each day, evenings are spent on terraces or in parks. Stay in to read all night and your friends might think that you’re being antisocial. In winter, however, no one bats an eye if you stay home.

And darkness offers something increasingly rare: good sleep. In Helsinki, the sun rises at about 09.30 and it is blissfully dark until then – a perfect excuse to sleep in. Try doing that in June, when the sun is already blazing at 05.00.

Get outside and enjoy the season
Whether the skies are grey or sunny, the old adage holds true: there’s no bad weather, only bad clothing. Frozen streets, shorelines or forests can feel restorative if you’re properly dressed. Sturdy shoes, gloves, a hat and scarf are all good accompaniments to a winter coat. 

If you’re lucky enough to live somewhere that still gets proper snow – nowadays that includes large parts of North America, Europe and Northern Asia – take advantage of it. Try activities that are only possible in winter. Snowboarding, ice skating, building snow castles – take your pick. If you prefer a more youthful pastime, watch how much joy children find in sledging down a hill. That could be you, too.

Make a conscious effort to be social
The cold and darkness have a way of turning people inward. When it’s tempting to stay under the covers, who wants to make the effort to meet friends, see exhibitions or go out for dinner? However, winter is precisely when social life matters most. Though it can feel like a chore, getting out into the community is worth it. 

Just ask the residents of Helsinki. Every year, the city organises Lux Helsinki, a light-art festival held during the darkest days of winter. The point of the event is to bring colour and joy through light installations across the city. This year, some 450,000 people attended – a large percentage of the capital’s population. Cultural experiences feel amplified at a time when huddling at home is the easier option.

Make the most of light
While there is nothing wrong with retreating indoors and going all-in on winter cosiness, it’s not wise to do it all the time. Finns are adept at chasing whatever daylight they can find. Short walks during coffee breaks, longer ones on weekends – every bit helps. Research shows that light is highly effective at boosting mood during the darker months. And when the sun is nowhere to be seen, as is often the case in Helsinki during winter, innovation is required.

That’s where light-therapy lamps come in. Designed to mimic natural daylight, they are scientifically proven to lift spirits in winter. Use one for about half an hour in the morning, perhaps over breakfast. They come in many shapes and sizes and, contrary to popular belief, not all of them are ugly. Finns are something of an authority on the subject; brands such as Innolux do it particularly well. The Lempi lamp is a personal favourite of mine.

Turn your home into a tropical refuge
Even if it’s bleak and freezing outside, it doesn’t have to feel that way indoors. Finnish homes are typically well insulated and filled with houseplants, wooden furniture and bright rugs. As I write this, it’s a comfortable 23C inside, there’s a palm plant beside me and a metre of snow outside the window.

In the colder months, your home becomes your nest – so you might as well make it inviting. A trip to the local garden centre can work wonders. A couple of thatch palms can instantly bring a touch of the tropics to your days and won’t break the bank. Or perhaps a lemon tree? Just remember that plants, like you, might need a bit of extra light to get through the winter.

The opening ceremony of the 2026 Winter Olympics on 6 February has an added layer of complexity compared to previous editions, with it being across four locations: Milan’s San Siro stadium, Cortina, Predazzo and Livigno. This might explain why Marco Balich is at his desk, studying a piece of paper outlining all the different competing nations and their athletes’ locations, when Monocle meets him. 

Balich, the creative lead for the Winter Olympics Opening Ceremony, is working in an office down a cobbled side street in Milan’s Brera neighbourhood. Balich Wonder Studio might not be a household name but its importance to international ceremonies watched by huge global audiences is hard to overstate. Founded in 2013 and headed by Balich, the firm specialises in producing live international mega-shows. This year it will oversee the Milano Cortina Winter Olympics opening ceremony – the culmination of two years of work and six months of rehearsals with both professionals and volunteers (the latter includes Balich’s butcher and his office manager dressed as a Roman centurion).

So, no pressure then. But if anyone can pull it off, it’s Balich. His extensive CV includes overseeing a staggering 16 Olympic ceremonies and 13 regional games, including Turin’s Winter Games in 2006, the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio and the curtain raiser for the 2022 World Cup in Qatar. 

Originally from Venice, the creative lead cut his teeth putting on concerts for the likes of Pink Floyd and Motörhead (the latter infamous after its fans trashed the 18th-century host theatre, leading to Balich being accompanied down to the local police station). He transitioned to the Olympics after organising the flag ceremonies at the Salt Lake City Winter Games in 2002 and hasn’t looked back. What better kick than producing what is arguably the greatest show on earth? This year he has even helped design the Olympic cauldron. 

Your relationship with the Olympics spans decades. How did you become involved?
My love affair with the Olympics started at 16. I was a fencer and I missed the 1980 Moscow Games due to a [partial] boycott after the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan. Though my dream of becoming an Olympic athlete crashed, I have been in love with the Games ever since, particularly the ceremonies. They are the most interesting shows in the world. In 2002, I finally got the chance to attend the Winter Games in Salt Lake City as executive producer and creative director of the Olympic and Paralympic flag handover. More than two decades later, I’m now at Milano Cortina after 16 different roles in Olympic ceremonies. 

How do you champion the spirit of the host country when organising a ceremony?
As Italians, we don’t impose our culture. We just support the ideas of local creative teams through an aesthetic lens. When we did Rio, for example, we partnered with the organiser of the city’s New Year’s Eve party, which is a huge show with pyrotechnics. There were more than two million attendees. We involved some incredible talent, including Fernando Meirelles, director of the Oscar-nominated film City of God. We had a great creative team; as a producer and creative leader, I support people in making their dreams possible.

How do Milano and Cortina play into the central theme of the ceremony? 
The theme is armonia (“harmony” in Italian). The word has Greek roots and draws on the idea that if you have two actions, they are better when put together. This year, two cities are hosting the Winter Games for the first time ever. Inspired by Cortina, which is a mountain resort, the show is also about man and nature – a metaphor for the need to foster harmonious dialogue between humans and the environment as key to the survival of the planet. 

Do you feel the pressure of the Olympics coming to your home?
There is a Latin phrase ‘Nemo propheta in patria’, which means, ‘No man is a prophet in his own country.’ Over the past few months, everyone has wanted a say on how the ceremony should be delivered, whether it’s the national government, the International Olympic Committee or politicians from the municipality. But I have a lot of experience [in dealing] with that. It’s not a one-man-band creative process. The teamwork is a nice side of it. 

What sort of emotional journey do you hope that the ceremony takes spectators on?
I always remind myself and everyone around me that [the ceremony] will be televised or streamed by 197 broadcasters globally, which means that every message that we deliver has to be understood. My parameter is always that a 14-year-old in Bariloche, Argentina, needs to immediately understand what we’re talking about. If we nail that, then I’m sure that everyone will get the message. The emotional journey is not about celebrities. The show is a big, beautiful, expensive statement about Olympic values. About a third of it celebrates Italian elements; another third is about the sport and the athletes; and the rest reflect the ethos of the Olympic world – to inspire future generations. You cannot be cynical about delivering a statement for these kinds of shows. If you’re cynical, you’re dead. 

Away from the glamorous side of things, what are some of the organisational elements behind the ceremonies that people don’t tend to think about?
I wouldn’t say that the Olympic ceremony is glamorous – but it’s inspirational and it’s motivating to do this work. Our studio does a lot of luxury shows around the world and it does them for the beauty and for the money. But here, we do it because it’s meaningful. The Olympic ceremony relies mainly on a cast of volunteers and we must treat them kindly because otherwise they will leave (screaming at them is not allowed). My butcher next to my house, for example, is playing a coffee machine in the show while my office manager has been going to rehearsals in the freezing cold as a Roman centurion. Ultimately, it’s humanity that makes this journey beautiful.

Read next: How the Winter Olympics became a soft-power secret weapon

The World Governments Summit (WGS) is taking place this week at the Madinat Jumeirah in Dubai. The annual gathering has become one of the most packed fixtures on the diplomatic calendar, with attendees including presidents, prime ministers and policymakers from across the globe.

This year’s summit opens amid heightened regional tensions: the arrival of Donald Trump’s “beautiful armada” in Middle Eastern waters highlights the president’s renewed threats to strike Iran. Meanwhile, trilateral talks involving US, Ukrainian and Russian officials are unfolding in Abu Dhabi. 

Over the coming days, leaders expected in Dubai include Guy Parmelin, president of Switzerland; Edi Rama, Albania’s outspoken prime minister; Pedro Sánchez, Spain’s premier; and Nawaf Salam, the prime minister of Lebanon. Large delegations from Africa are also in attendance, reinforcing a pattern seen at recent UAE-hosted events: a concerted effort by Abu Dhabi and Dubai to deepen political, economic and diplomatic ties with the continent. 

One of the summit’s defining features is its format. Unlike the panel-heavy structure of many international gatherings, WGS leans heavily into majlis-style meetings, where leaders sit together in intimate, circular arrangements to help foster conversation. It’s a reminder that diplomacy in this part of the world is as much about trust and proximity as it is about policy papers.

WGS also brings together business leaders, entrepreneurs, aviation chiefs, technologists and media figures, blurring the lines between public policy and private power. This is part of the event’s appeal – and its challenge. With so many disciplines under one roof, the conversations are rich but the outcomes can feel diffuse. How much of what is discussed here will genuinely travel beyond Dubai? 

Still, WGS is a masterclass in soft power. The UAE positions itself not as the loudest voice in the room but as the host – a convener that creates space for others to talk, negotiate and test ideas. “It is a lab for governments,” says Mohammad al-Gergawi, the minister of cabinet affairs in the UAE and the WGS chairman. 

That sense of choreography extends well beyond the main stage. Much of the event’s business happens between sessions in smaller meeting rooms, in the courtyard of Madinat Jumeirah’s conference centre and over coffee. The Monocle Café has become part of that informal ecosystem – a place where ministers pause between commitments, advisers trade notes and delegates briefly step out of diplomatic mode. 

Monocle Radio will be broadcasting from the summit throughout the week, with Monocle’s head of radio, Tom Edwards; editor in chief, Andrew Tuck; and chairman and editorial director, Tyler Brûlé, joining me on the ground. If there’s one thing that WGS does well it’s creating space for good conversation. Slowing down, gathering people around the same table and letting dialogue unfold is needed now more than ever.

Frequent travellers to the Caribbean are used to delays but these are typically caused by hurricanes rather than military action. Those seeking a dose of winter sun last month had their plans scrambled as the Federal Aviation Administration closed Eastern Caribbean airspace during the US special forces operation to extract Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro. Whether flying Paris to Martinique, London to Saint Lucia or Toronto to Turks and Caicos, the result was cancelled flights across the board – more than 1,100 in all. Those disruptions will almost certainly not be the last. Civil-aviation authorities recently warned pilots in the eastern Pacific of the ongoing risks from US military aircraft. Pentagon officials confirmed in late January that they had conducted their first airstrike on an alleged drug smuggling vessel since Maduro’s capture.

With high season under way, it’s high time that holidaymakers and tourism marketers dispense with the myth that the Caribbean is nothing but an interchangeable mix of sun, sea and sand. As Monocle contributor Tom Vanderbilt said in November after finding himself in a sticky situation in Tanzania, you should “do your geopolitical research before packing your passport.”

That kind of homework has long been anathema to tourists heading for the beach. Conventional tourism marketing for the Caribbean typically portrays sun loungers and parasols at the water’s edge, next to a tropical cocktail garnished with a slice of pineapple. In party-hard destinations such as Cancún, Jost Van Dyke and the all-inclusive resorts that litter Jamaica and the Dominican Republic, the aspiration is escapism – throw back another margarita to forget the news of the day.

Such mindlessness has always been poor form. As Antiguan-American writer Jamaica Kincaid put it in her 1988 book A Small Place, a non-fiction work examining her birthplace, “every native of every place is a potential tourist and every tourist is a native of somewhere”. But when the native becomes a tourist, she warns, they almost inevitably transform into “an ugly empty thing, a stupid thing, a piece of rubbish pausing here and there to gaze at this and taste that”.

That kind of shutting off of the brain when going on holiday is what allows one, for example, to meander past the pastel-coloured buildings in Willemstad, the Unesco-recognised capital of Curaçao, but fail to notice the enormous oil refinery, dormant since 2019, that could prove a geostrategic lynchpin if it can once again accept crude oil from Venezuela. At its worst, such inanity sees tens of thousands of cruise ship passengers disembark to ride zip lines and water slides at a gated resort in Labadee, Haiti, who have little awareness that they are in a troubled Caribbean nation. On a recent trip, the port of call was announced as “Labadee, Hispaniola”. Travellers, however geopolitically stunted, should at least know where they are. The region is not adrift from geopolitics: it is a hotspot and one in which the White House will continue to take a keen interest. Whether it’s Cuba or Haiti, more disruption is to be expected.

This finger-wagging is not to discourage travel to the Caribbean but rather to encourage visitors to brush up on this complex part of the globe. Colonialism left a painful legacy on the region but it also left an enriching cultural heritage. You might learn why you should pick up a few words of Papiamentu and seek out a baseball game in Aruba or pack a novel by Maryse Condé and order a ti’ punch at the bar in Guadeloupe. A quick history lesson might also point you in the direction of the most tranquil Caribbean destination: the US Virgin Islands, which Washington purchased from Copenhagen in 1916. With that territorial deal long in the rear-view mirror, you can relax on the beach in Saint Croix worry-free.

Gregory Scruggs is Monocle’s Seattle correspondent. For more analysis and insight, subscribe to Monocle here.

Read next: After Venezuela, who’s next? Maduro’s capture revives Latin American fears of US intervention

At what point does short-term gain become long-term disadvantage? It’s an important question for both individuals and nations to ask themselves, and one that I’ve been thinking about since returning a week ago from Greenland (where a Monocle team was reporting on the crisis over the island’s sovereignty). 

In several ways, the farrago over Greenland typified this age of smartphone diplomacy, in which our capacity to think far ahead of the present moment is under 24-hour, synapse-shredding assault. High-level negotiations used to be conducted in person, by letter or via phone calls – and mostly behind closed doors. As such, civility and careful persuasion were the most effective tools for getting what one wanted. Now, when so much of it is done in front of billions, nuance is almost impossible. And we, as observers, aren’t blameless: just over a week after the threat of war over Greenland subsided, how many of us are already craving the next dopamine hit? Could it come from the US armada heading towards Iran? Tune in next week to find out. 

Current US foreign policy might be successful in keeping the world on the edge of its seat and ratings (or at least “impressions”) sky-high – but the result will ultimately be a waning of American hegemony. Already, erstwhile allies are moving to decouple from the unpredictable giant. As Trump was threatening to annex Greenland, Germany’s chancellor, Friedrich Merz, whose country is home to several of America’s largest overseas military bases, was gearing up for his first official visit to China later this month. Last week the UK prime minister, traditionally seen as the US president’s closest fellow leader, was also inspecting a guard of honour in the Great Hall of the People. China is openly recognised as the number-one challenger to US pre-eminence so why is Trump working day and night to push the rest of the world into its arms? 
 
And so, to the matter of Greenland. In the past, the US would have recognised that the best way to achieve its objectives was through the soft power of its culture and economic might. United Airlines recently began the first non-stop commercial flight between the territory and the US. Though only six months’ old, the summertime bi-weekly Newark to Nuuk route was already encouraging an exchange of understanding (and greenbacks) that would have done much to win Greenlanders round to the US. Most of the business owners who I spoke to in Nuuk said that while they hated America’s government, they liked its tourists. Unfortunately, it is with the US government that Greenland’s leaders will be renegotiating the 1951 defence agreement that governs the territory. As every bully in history could have told Trump, intimidation might quickly gain you acquiescence but it will cost you goodwill in the end.
 
A failure by those leading the world to look beyond their social-media feeds is fuelling our collective dizziness. It’s also why Mark Carney’s speech at Davos was so good. Besides being well written and delivered, it articulated a far-sighted vision for the world, while refusing to shy away from hard truths. The gratefulness with which it has been received around the world and across the political spectrum shows how many of us are craving this kind of thinking. 

At Monocle, we try to cultivate a similarly digested and non-hysterical view. It can be seen in our coverage of business, culture, design, fashion, travel, hospitality and, yes, global politics. While in the Greenlandic capital, rather than merely doing live hits with snowy backdrops, we spoke to locals about their culture, their businesses and also (because we had to) their views of Donald Trump. After the inevitable rolling-on of the media circus, it is these impressions that remain – and these people, who will hopefully define the future of Greenland. 

Alexis Self is Monocle’s foreign editor. For more about how Mark Carney’s speech stole the show in Davos, click here.

The Faster Lane was in top gear this week as it moved westward from last Saturday, zipped eastward again on Thursday, went high-altitude on Friday and made a dash to the Gulf at about the same time as this column went to press. Here’s the week that was, told in seven modes of mobility.

1.
Zürich to Paris on a Helvetic Airways Embraer E190
This is one of those journeys that should be three hours by train but is a stubborn four to five hours depending on the connection and maintenance work across the French and Swiss rail networks. It would also be faster if Switzerland’s railway bumpkins allowed for trains to travel at 300km/h between Zürich and Basel. Never mind, I have a solution. If you avoid landing at Paris’s CDG in the morning and opt for early afternoon, it can be a swift 43 minutes in the air and 35 minutes into the centre of Paris. 

2.
Monocle on Rue Bachaumont to Takara on Rue Molière for no fuss Japanese in Paraboot brogues
What better way to cross the soggy and slick sidewalks of Paris than a pair of hefty, made-in-France Paraboots? Have you noticed how the sneaker continues its retreat to the back of the wardrobe when it comes to pulling together a daily ensemble? Thank heavens.

3.
Hotel Bachaumont to Gare du Nord in a G7 Taxi-operated Lexus sedan
Smart people know that G7 Taxi is the only way to get around Paris on four wheels; Uber and limo services are for amateurs. With its Lexus-heavy fleet of VIP cabs, G7 has a snappy app, polite drivers and the freedom to use bus lanes for speeding around Paris. The only thing missing is a predictive bit of technology for avoiding the early morning rubbish trucks that block you on a side street during your morning dash to the station.

4.
Paris to London on Eurostar in a Siemens-engineered rail carriage
Travelling by Eurostar should be something to look forward to rather than dread but somehow it judders from bad to worse. The upholstery and interior finishes on the latest rolling stock are not wearing well, the wi-fi is sluggish at best and skirts for men as part of the uniform? Really? How about using all that fabric to reupholster the threadbare seats? And perhaps some golden, dimmable lighting to keep all the luxury-industry regulars looking radiant on the evening jaunt home? One of Japan’s high-speed rail operators should pair up with Hitachi to launch a rival service that ups the offer for all.

5. 
Zürich to St Moritz in my Toyota Land Cruiser
I’ve had this solid set of wheels for more than a year now and every time that I get behind the wheel I just want to keep on driving. Next stop: Brno? Brindisi? Batumi? It’s comfy, peppy for its size, well-appointed with its built-in fridge (anyone for Krug in the back?) and reassuringly diesel for that day the grid collapses. 

6.
St Moritz to Landquart in a Stadler-built carriage on the Rhätische Bahn
One of the world’s most beautiful rail journeys would be a bit more soothing if the seats reclined – but then there’d be a danger that you’d drift off and miss the stunning scenery. I never tire of getting on these red trains, winding through the mountains and wondering if we would ever build such infrastructure today, and if we did, would we find the manpower to do it?

7.
Zürich to Dubai on a Swiss A330
For mid-haul jaunts, this is my shuttle to Montreal, Toronto and with increasing frequency, Dubai. The business class needs a refresh but the first class still works and feels every bit the brand – right angles, woody, pragmatic and efficient. If only the clever Swiss could install a flatulence-suppression system for the man in 2A who went for the onion soup pre-departure. Uffffffff…

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The Spanish Netflix series Ciudad de Sombras (City of Shadows) is a six-part crime drama set in 2010 Barcelona. The show unfolds in a city still uneasy about the 1992 Olympics, which displaced people from their homes to make way for new sports facilities, beaches and museums. Nearly 30 years later, they continue to be eased out of their apartments in the name of progress.

While there are other plotlines to do with cancer, child abuse, teenage suicide and Spanish TV, the key narrative of the series is the kidnapping and subsequent burning alive of various public figures, all taking place in buildings by Antoni Gaudí. Ciudad de Sombras is essentially an entertaining detective series that features spectacular architecture. It’s why, as yet another poor unfortunate is being flambéed, all you can think is: “I need to get to Barcelona and visit everything that Gaudí ever designed.” (Bookmark Monocle’s Barcelona City Guide, if you do.)

Of course, this is not the first time that the art of building design has stolen the show on screen or in print. Here are five more killer cultural outings for people who like double servings of crime and architecture.

1.
Hawksmoor
Novel by Peter Ackroyd

The award-winning novel, which is set in both 18th-century and contemporary London, tells a two-track story. One follows ecclesiastical architect Nicholas Dyer, a secret Satanist who sacrifices humans as part of his building process (you do have to be careful with these architect types). The other revolves around a policeman, Nicholas Hawksmoor, who is investigating a series of modern-time murders that have been committed at Dyer churches. Now, there was an architect called Nicholas Hawksmoor in 18th-century London, who designed many of the churches that Dyer designs in the book, such as Christ Church Spitalfields and St Anne’s Limehouse – hence Ackroyd borrowing his name. Many people who read Hawksmoor subsequently made visits to the rather spooky churches featured in the novel. Most, it is believed, made it home again.

2.
North by Northwest
Film directed by Alfred Hitchcock 

This spy thriller starring Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint and James Mason had another unexpected star – a villain’s lair called the Vandamm House. Although it was just a set, Hitchcock used Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece, Fallingwater, as inspiration for its design. The Vandamm House was only on screen for some 14 minutes, yet it became a much-talked-about element of the film. To this day, the iconic structure has many fans and has even inspired several real-life houses.

3.
American Psycho
Film directed by Mary Harron

Contemporary – especially modernist – architecture in movies is often associated with people up to no good: chilly folk who might murder you for a sin as slight as scratching their Eames chair. There is perhaps no better example of this than American Psycho. While the story is set in Manhattan, much of the filming took place in Toronto, in a stark and amazing 1967 project by Mies van der Rohe. The Toronto-Dominion Centre features two brooding black towers and it is here that Patrick Bateman, played by Christian Bale, works (and when taking time out from investment banking, kills people). The character’s apartment has more pieces by the celebrated architect, including the famous Barcelona chairs. The movie plays on a common notion with its choice in locations and furniture: minimalism is evil and stark rooms are likely hangouts for narcissist killers.

4.
Poirot
British TV series based on the books of Agatha Christie

The murders in this show are a little less grisly than in American Psycho but the on-screen architecture is used for a similar narrative impact. Poirot, despite his old-fashioned manners and attire, lives in Whitehaven Mansions, an elegant art deco apartment building. And as a stand-in, the series used wavy-fronted Florin Court in London’s Charterhouse Square. The choice of home suggests a man who is actually rather modern at heart – driven by science, meticulousness and an aesthete to boot. A similar narrative is present in the life of Agatha Christie herself. In 1941, after her home was bombed in the Blitz, she moved to the Isokon building designed by Wells Coates and completed in 1934. Today the structure is still regarded as a clean-lined modernist break from the past.

5.
Body Double
Film directed by Brian de Palma

The 1984 erotic thriller might not have been a box-office triumph but the house at the centre of the action could shrug that off – it had regularly been cast in movies and TV shows and continues to be put in the spotlight. The building in question is the Chemosphere, a residence by the celebrated American architect John Lautner. The property, which was erected in 1960 in Los Angeles, looks like a flying saucer sat on a concrete pillar. This, and other Lautner houses that are also perched on cliff edges, have become cinema stalwarts because they not only hint at wealth but also a detached, voyeuristic view of the world: they provide an ability to pry into the life of a city unobserved. And there was Lautner thinking he just made nice homes.

‘City of Shadows’ is available to stream on Netflix now.