Why the dry martini is my constant companion

I am standing drinking a dry martini on the roof of J.K. Place in Florence. Why I'm not sitting, I'll explain later, but first let's talk about martinis. For more than 15 years now, I've been travelling for my living. And in all that time my constant companion at the end of the day has always been a dry martini.

The great thing about this "elixir of quietude", to quote the American writer E. B. White, is that it is always good. Anywhere in the world - from Kazakhstan to Hawaii, from the Arctic Circle to an expedition cruiser anchored off the coast of Antarctica - I have been able to drink great martinis. The choice of gin is important. Most people recommend Plymouth, Tanqueray or Beefeater. And the addition of vermouth should be strictly limited or else it gets too sweet. And it is important the cocktail be stirred with ice (not shaken, Mr Bond) and that's about it.

My companion is as important to me as those challenging and fresh experiences that travel always brings. I have had my share of those moments - digging a snow shelter in depths of the Canadian winter as night fell, driving over the Atlas Mountains in torrential rain (and in a faulty car), sleeping out in the Zambian bush with just a mosquito net for bedding, paddling down the Yellow River on a boat made of goatskins - but we travellers also need the familiar as well as the exotic. For me a dry martini at sundown is a little moment of home wherever I go.

This familiarity makes travel fun and it is why I choose my bars carefully. Indeed it's why I am standing here now. If the drink is a constant, then the bar is the variable. A decent bar consists of a few essentials - something to sit on (stool or chair) something to lean on (counter or table), a bartender, glassware and other customers, although personally I am very happy to drink on my own. I once spent an afternoon in the great, tented, circular bar of Klein's Camp in the Serengeti all on my own watching the great migration of wildebeest and zebra pass by below.

I can cope without other people. Anyone who travels a lot must be able to tolerate loneliness. However, I do look for and enjoy a good view.

All my favourite bars have great - even unexpected - views. In Hong Kong, the best place to see the nightly light-show that illuminates all those skyscrapers round the harbour is from Felix, the bar at the top of The Peninsula hotel. In Venice, the Stucky Molino, a converted mill above the Giudecca Canal, has a rooftop bar that not only shows you all of Venice, but a birds' eye view of those massive white cruise liners heading out into the Adriatic. There's a surprisingly good modern bar on top of the Kempinski hotel in St Petersburg too, presenting you with the entire illuminated roofline of Peter the Great's city. The Vista Bar above Trafalgar Square definitely has the best view in London.