Travel inspiration, advice & recommendations

I sign up for a tour of Berlin’s underground bunkers and subways with Berliner Unterwelten, the society for exploration and documentation of subterranean architecture, who have opened up this underworld to the public since 1997.

I make my way to the meeting point in Berlin, at Gesundbrunnen, feeling a slight degree of trepidation. The Cold War is a mystery to me, as is most of modern history. I was a little worried that the tour would be more for the boffins and military enthusiasts than someone like myself. I was happily proven wrong.

Berlin Underground: Going Down

Going underground, stepping back in time

We all follow obediently as our excellent tour guide leads us briskly across the square, over the road, and into the entrance of a park, before heading through a door in a small brick building, with, ironically enough, a Holiday Inn sign perched on the roof.

Once inside, we have an introduction to the place, with general information about when the bunkers were built, and how they were used in the Second World War, and then re-fitted a nuclear shelter during the Cold War. The historical overview takes us from the 1943 Tehran Conference to the dividing of Berlin into American, British, French and Soviet sectors at the close of World War II, to the 1948-49 Berlin Blockade. I learn about the non-socialisation rule of West Berlin, where a soldier could be fined or court martialled for fraternising with the German community or — heaven forbid — falling in love with a local girl. (Any social and political system that keeps people on different sides and prevents us from seeing each other as human beings, and acting with compassion is, I guess what keeps the theatres of war in operation.)

The Berlin Underground tour office

We hear about the preparations made for civilians to take shelter in the event of a Third World War, and how the impact of a nuclear attack would devastate the city. It is a sombre and terrifying prospect, although something that is timely to reflect on in this nuclear age. As I travel and meet people from different cultures and backgrounds, I am continually struck by our common desires to find community, connection and a sustainable future together on this beautiful planet. It’s good to be reminded of the history underneath this remarkable city, which is constantly regenerating itself, and to appreciate the peace and freedom that most of us take for granted.

What does one eat, living in a bunker?

One of the details that intrigues me are the supplies kept in the bunker: boxes containing hundreds of thousands of items, toiletries, shaving brushes, medical kits and canned food, including oranges, “herrings in tomato sauce” and sardines from Portugal. This glimpse into the preparations for survival provides a fascinating insight into life at the time, and also tells a story of racketeering and greed, which you will have to take the tour to find out more about!

Moving deeper into the tunnels, we pass a grated opening that looks down onto the train line, and stories from our guide that give an indication of the desperate measures people were prepared to take in order to try and reach the democratic West. There is the darkly humourous sign indicating friend (Communists) and enemy (evil Capitalists) posted at the entrance to the ghost stations (subway stops that in East Berlin were sealed and closed-off), offering a slim hope of escape as West Berlin trains ran through them.

There is a chilling tale of the sewers, and gruesome details about the measures that the Soviet authorities were prepared to go to in order to secure the underground borders. This is best left to the tour guide to tell, as the location also helps create an echo of the atmosphere where these events took place, and gives a sense of the complete control over the population, which is of course the least appealing aspect of any totalitarian state.

Not all the walls came down in 1989

I am fascinated to learn that after the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the removal of the underground borders takes almost another 10 years. Living in contemporary Berlin as part of the international community, it is easy to forget just how present and immediate this history is for the people who grew up here. Berlin is a city that is constantly changing and reinventing itself, however the marks of history are deeply scored into the architecture and pysche of the city, and are still visible in the underworld.

Scene from a horror movie? Nope, just a seedy part of Berlin’s history

Taking a short underground ride to the next station, we have the fabulously bizarre experience of entering one of those anonymous doors you see along the railway corridors. The entire U-Bahn station of Pankstrasse was designed as a nuclear shelter in the 1980s, and can be hermetically sealed, with enough room for around 1,500 people to survive the blast and a few weeks afterwards.

We have a taste of the simulated “catastrophe rehearsal”, with an introduction to the decontamination chamber (and the bright blue-and-yellow tracksuits which were the only clothes allowed inside), then a look at one of the medical rooms.

There is a slightly seedy aspect to the recent past of this facility, however there was no time to go deeper into the complex, although another tour explores this one in far more detail.

During construction of new buildings, the engineers often dug very deep into the soil of Berlin, and the subway system is only a part of its subterranean architecture. Many other objects are to be found in Berlin’s sandy underground. Cemeteries, secret air-raid shelters, sewers and even an aircraft factory were built under the surface of the city. A lot of these structures still exist nowadays.

Birth of the Berlin Underworld

In the autumn of 1997, a few enthusiasts got together in order to explore this subterranean world. The organization they founded, the Berliner Unterwelten (Berlin Underworlds Association), locates and documents such hidden installations, making some of them accessible to the public. And it uses these sites for cultural purposes (such as exhibitions, theatre performances and concerts). The organization has already discovered numerous forgotten subterranean structures – but many other secrets are still to be discovered down there.

I am left with a sense of sadness, for the effects of war on humanity, and respect for the courage and dignity which people of all backgrounds show in the most extreme circumstances. It was a relief to return to the sunshine and light of the outside world, not having had to spend days or weeks inside a bunker for survival, and gave me a much deeper understanding of the events and history of this extraordinary city.

–Jodi Rose

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s list of things to do in Berlin, including Berlin walking tours and the Underground Berlin: Subways, Bunkers and the Cold War tour that Jodi reviews in this post.

I’m ashamed to admit I know only the bare essentials of Australian history - Captain Cook found us and decided to stick around, Ned Kelly ran around the country with a tin on his head, the ANZACs did us proud in WWI and a cyclone wiped out Darwin on Christmas Day in 1974 (I admit to Googling the year!). That’s pretty much my knowledge of Australian history. I know we are a very young country but I’m sure plenty more has happened in the past 220 years.

The problem I have is that with the very mention of the word “history” my eyes glaze over and my mind wands to a far away land. Don’t get me wrong, if I go somewhere with a long and eventful history I will check it out - I was fascinated by the Colosseum in Rome and will never forget seeing the Giza Pyramids in Cairo for the first time - but you won’t find me pouring through books and text to learn the history of a place before I get there. Ancient history is ok, full of gruesome stories and strange goings-on, but modern history - yawn!

On a recent trip to my heaven on earth - Port Douglas - I decided to remedy the situation and visit somewhere I had not been before in my numerous visits to paradise. I jumped on the Scenic Railway for a visit to Kuranda, a popular day trip from Cairns. The train ride goes up the mountains through the edge of the rain-forest with brilliant views over the city all the way down to the ocean. The building of the railway is an historical event in itself and there is commentary on the train as you travel, but as I said - eyes glazing over, mind wandering - I’m not a reliable source to repeat it to you.

Strolled around Kuranda markets, grabbed some lunch then headed back down to Cairns on the Skyrail, a cable car line over the top of the rain-forest which really is worth doing if you are in the area. Gives a whole different perspective of the rain-forest. Back on terra firma it was time for the last activity on our tour, a visit to Tjapukai (pronounced Jab-a-kigh) Aboriginal Cultural Park. Throughout school in Australia we learn a little about Aboriginal culture and history but most of what I remember is the ‘dream-time’ myths and legends. I know the indigenous people of Australia were badly treated by the first settlers but never really took an interest in learning the details.

Tjapukai is run by a local Aboriginal tribe and the small group of performers are very proud and passionate about their culture. You first see a live telling of the Aboriginal story of creation, before moving on to a music performance, of course featuring the didgeridoo and dancing. The there is a demonstration on how to make a didgeridoo, boomerang and spear throwing lessons (yes, its interactive so be prepared to duck!), and a presentation of bush medicines. It was all very interesting and enjoyable, but nothing ground breaking for me, just a pleasant day out.

To finish the visit at Tjapukai it was time for a short movie about the history of the Djabugay and Irukanydji people, the original inhabitants of this part of Australia. As the film began my mind already began to drift to thoughts of which restaurant to go to for dinner, but was abruptly brought back to focus as the story immediately highlighted the harsh reality of this part of Australian history.

The original owners of the land were hunted and slaughtered like animals - men, women and children. Those not killed were enslaved and forced to abandon their culture to adopt that of the Europeans. Their land was taken from them and they were not allowed to hunt and forage for food. Before there was time to process the brutality of the initial treatment, the film shows the ongoing affects of forced change and loss of identity suffered by descendants of these people. The struggle they face to find their place, trying to regain some of the rich culture and traditions almost lost 200 years ago, while coping with the ever changing modern world. The film finished on a positive note, profiling some of the ’success stories’ of the tribe today who are inspiring younger generations to forgive the past and re-embrace their heritage.

Seeing this film made it easier to understand and feel compassion for current day Aborigines who struggle with addictions and resentment. Our prime minister recently made a long overdue apology to the indigenous people of Australia and my visit to Tjapukai helped me understand why this was so important. It also inspired me to learn more about my own country’s history and find out how we got to where we are today.

Here at Viator we love to wax lyrical about the meaning of travel, why we travel, how we travel, whats the meaning of it all? For me its simple - I travel to learn. I think I can say on this occasion - I traveled, I learned - goal achieved.

-Kerrie O’Mahony

Thomas’ book makes great toilet paper

Try as I might, I can no longer stay quiet about the cyclone in a teacup brewing over at Lonely Planet.

You know, the Thomas Kohnstamm firestorm. The travel writer who takes drugs, has sex, fabricates information, and writes a tell-all book about his experiences called Do Travel Writers Go to Hell?

FULL DISCLOSURE: I used to work at Lonely Planet, and before that I wrote more than a dozen guidebooks for Lonely Planet as a full-time travel writer. And no, I have no ax to grind. As I’ve said in a previous post about Lonely Planet and the BBC, I love the people I worked with and I retain a decent amount of respect for the founders, Tony & Maureen Wheeler.

Don’t believe everything you read in books

Here’s a link to the article in the New York Observer that started it all. The original slant on Thomas’ books was: “It’s about his experiences as a delinquent travel guide writer who cut every corner because he was so short on time and money.”

Next, the London Times gets a hold of this and ups the ante. Their headline: “Lonely Planet writer, Thomas Kohnstamm, claims he fabricated guidebook.” In fact the claim from Thomas is that, “They didn’t pay me enough to go to Colombia. I wrote the book in San Francisco. I got the information from a chick I was dating – an intern in the Colombian Consulate.”

The counter-claim from Lonely Planet: “When he was commissioned it was understood that he wouldn’t be going to the destination. He claimed he wasn’t paid enough to travel, but he was only employed as an office based researcher. He was never expected to go out there.

Lonely Planet followed up with an earnest report about what inaccuracies and problems it has found in books written by Thomas.

So far so good. A forgettable travel writer swings a book deal with Random House to write a tell-all about the world’s last significant, independent travel media brand. The book is duly written. Lonely Planet is duly shocked. And the media smells blood.

Where it all turned pear-shaped for Lonely Planet

I was reading an excellent interview with Thomas himself when it hit me like a piano in the head.

WHO REALLY CARES???

Who really cares about Thomas, about his ethics, about the integrity of Lonely Planet’s “freebie policy” or the accuracy of its books — who really cares about travel books in general???

You see, Lonely Planet depends on a small handful of people — three writers, apparently, in the case of a Brazil guide Thomas contributed to — to form the ‘Lonely Planet’ view of a destination. Three people. Some of whom research from a desk. Some of whom actually travel. And then it takes a small army of editors, cartographers, designers, printers, warehouse staff, shippers, and bookstore staff to get the books into your hands. Total turnaround time: 18 - 24 months.

If you read between the lines of what people like Lonely Planet’s publisher Piers Pickard are saying, one subtle point is made over again and again. The point is, “don’t worry, we’ll review Thomas’ books, we’ll commission new writers, and in 18 months we’ll publish an update. We at Lonely Planet are all about integrity, accuracy and authenticity, so give us 18 months or so and, we promise, we’ll fix this mess!”

Oh please.

What they should be saying is: Hey, we realize that the current guidebook model is fatally flawed. That we rely on too few people to create our travel guides; that it takes far too long to research them; that we don’t pay writers enough to cover every corner of the places we send them; that it takes our staff far too long to produce them; that it takes our printers far too long to manufacture and ship them by boat around the world; that it takes bookstores far too long to stock and finally sell them.

In the year 2008, should your travel guide require such herculean effort to produce? Should it be so vulnerable to the bad decisions of a few ‘travel experts’? In a collaborative world dominated by Wikipedia (even Thomas has his own page now) and Wikitravel, of Facebook and social websites, of TripAdvisor and WAYN and Viator and a million other user-generated websites dedicated to travel, the real question for me is: In the year 2008, what still makes Lonely Planet special?

The answer has never been its authors. They’ve always been hit or miss. Some are wonderful, some are not. That was true back in the 1970s. It’s still true today.

The answer for me is the people — the travelers — who actually use Lonely Planet’s guidebooks. It’s the only thing that makes Lonely Planet truly special, the thousands people who road-test the books each year and actually go somewhere. Without the travelers, Lonely Planet is nothing but a creaky old bookmaker.

And yet…

The episode gave Lonely Planet a golden opportunity to let its travelers ‘update’ Thomas’ errors. To adapt its book-and-ink model and jump head-first into a world where travel information is generated by the wisdom of people on the ground, now, being there, doing that.

What if… Lonely Planet asked the hundreds (even thousands?) of LP travelers actually in Colombia and Brazil RIGHT NOW to send updates and help collaboratively to create the world’s most up-to-date description of traveling in South America.

What if… Lonely Planet started printing books on-demand? Sure, you still buy Lonely Planet guides in bookshops. But now you also buy them online, click-print-overnight shipped, containing the latest content from official authors, Thorn Tree users, Blue List contributors, the unwashed masses, you name it.

What if… Lonely Planet bought a company like blurb.com and created the world’s first on-demand travel bookshop, with titles from ’sanctioned’ LP authors as well as do-it-yourself titles from passionate Lonely Planet travelers.

There are so many ways Lonely Planet could have turned the Thomas affair to its advantage. Instead, its publisher promises to check for inaccuracies in the books and update them… in 18 to 24 months. In other words, it promises more of the same old creaky solutions.

Until Lonely Planet finds a way to move beyond the book — and indirectly, to move beyond its current model for researching and creating travel content — they will suffer from uneven content produced by authors who typically have not enough time or money to do a proper job. And inevitably, some of these authors will be as mediocre as Thomas. That’s just the nature of the beast.

So what amazes me about this whole episode?

Thomas sheds no new light on the dilemma faced by generations of travel writers. It’s always been that way. Ask any travel writer you know, including this one. We’re not angels. Yes we cut corners.

What’s amazing to me is that Lonely Planet and most other guidebook publishers keep trying to fix a model that is so clearly broken. Lonely Planet, hear me! It won’t be too long until the next Thomas Kohnstamm is unearthed, with his or her own stories of woe to tell. This is an inevitable fact, you must live with it.

Whether you thrive or collapse as a business depends solely on your response. Are you ready to compete in a world where fixing problems in 18 to 24 months isn’t good enough anymore?

–Scott McNeely

Editor’s Note: Jane has just started a new job at the State Department of Transport in an undisclosed location. Congratulations Jane, and keep the masses traveling.

Sunday morning, New York City, D Train

Get on the bus

There are all kinds of ways to see a city. If you take a tour, you’ll know you’re getting through all the highlights in an efficient and reliable way. Or you can jump on one of the many tourist-oriented transport options you find in big cities: San Francisco’s trolley cars, for example, the subway in New York City, or the City Circle antique tram in Melbourne.

Hopping on a bus, train or tram can give you a real insight into the lives of the locals. What do kids gossip about on their way to school? What are the latest fashions in office wear and mobile phones? What do old ladies buy at the market? What constitutes personal space in this culture? And how do people react when a drunk vomits on himself on the last train of the night?

The following is a small selection of some of the world’s great public transport trips – in other words, it’s only the ones I’ve been on. So get yourself on down to the comments page and let me know about the great trips I’ve missed.

San Francisco, USA: 33 Stanyan bus

When I lived in San Francisco, I’d catch the 33 Stanyan bus for kicks. The line starts a short stroll from The Presidio – a park with a great view of the Golden Gate bridge – then heads down Arguello Blvd until it hits the city’s hippy-and-buffalo hangout, Golden Gate Park. Stay in your seat for the ride down Haight Street (or hop off for a cocktail at Murio’s Trophy Room and a CD purchase or two at Amoeba) to the corner of Ashbury, where no matter how hard you look for history you’ll only see a Ben & Jerry’s outlet.

You’ll get a taste of San Francisco’s famous hills as you head up Ashbury Street. As you cross over 17th and make a couple of tight turns into Market you’ll get a spectacular view over the Mission District, San Francisco Bay and – if there’s no fog – maybe even Alameda. You could get off here and enjoy the view for a while, but the 33 isn’t legendary for its reliability, so ‘a while’ may constitute up to an hour.

The bus heads downhill to the corner of 18th and Castro in the heart of the Castro district, the city’s gay neighbourhood and another good candidate for a spot to alight. If you stay on you’ll make your way down 18th along the side of gorgeous Mission Dolores Park and on into the Latino-dominated Mission. On weekends, the bus terminates around here, so hop off as the bus crosses either Valencia or Dolores for a wander around hipster clothing stores and tasty taquerias. If you want a quicker route back to downtown, the BART train stops at the corner of 16th and Mission.

Melbourne, Australia: 96 tram

Melbourne, view from a tram window

National Geographic recently listed Melbourne’s 96 tram among the world’s top 10 tram trips. It doesn’t have the glamour and gorgeous views of other nominees, like the Lisbon 28 or the Budapest 2, but the 96 will take you around some of Melbourne’s top sights without the kitschy trappings of a more touristy tram.

The 96 starts its travels on Nicholson Street in the northern suburb of East Brunswick, currently just about the most fashionable hipster area in the city. Stroll over to parallel Lygon Street if you want to indulge in some mod-Lebanese at Rumi or a glass of pinot at the Alderman.

On its trip southward, the 96 skims the edge of Fitzroy – previous contender for most fashionable hipster area – and if you hop off at Johnston Street you can wander through the Spanish district to its heart, Brunswick Street. Otherwise, take a look out to the right as the tram passes the Carlton Gardens, home to the disconcertingly opulent Victorian-era Exhibition Building and its contrastingly modern neighbour, the Melbourne Museum. The tram then scoots past the steps of Parliament House, where there’s bound to be a bridal party or two lining up for photos, and along Bourke Street, downtown’s main artery and shopping strip.

At the south end of the city centre, the 96 heads east over the river and past Crown Casino, where most of your fellow passengers will alight, tempted by poker machines and cheap booze. Don’t do it! Stay on board and you’ll leave the streets and turn on to a disused rail line, a treat for public transport nerds. South Melbourne station is the stop for the South Melbourne Markets, where you can while away an hour or two tasting produce and buying ridiculously cute cupcakes. The tram rejoins street traffic at St Kilda, where you can take a ride on a 1912 rollercoaster at Luna Park or have a paddle at St Kilda beach, and terminates at Acland Street, home to some of the city’s most artery-clogging cake shops.

Prague, Czech Republic: 22 tram

Trams in Prague

The 22 tram in Prague is a beauty. It treads a fine line between tourist tram and actual mode of transport, but that’s just because it goes past so many spectacular attractions. It’s also popular with pickpockets, so it’s a good way of offloading any spare euros you have on you.

The 22 is one of the city’s longest routes, but for visitors its logical end points are probably Namesti Miru (or Peace Square) in Vinohrady and Prague Castle (though enthusiasts can stay on past the castle to visit the Hvezda summer palace and the site of the famous battle of Bila Hora).

Take the metro to Namesti Miru station, which has the city’s longest escalator and some of the best interior decoration in the metro system. Up above, there’s a pleasant church, restaurants and some lovely residential architecture. Hop on the tram as it runs towards the river, passing by the Gehry-designed ‘Dancing House’ on its way to the seemingly bubble-wrap-shrouded National Theatre. Cross the Vltava River on the Legii bridge – on the far side you can hop off and duck down a little flight of stairs to lovely, riverside Kampa Park, which leads to the tourist-thronged Charles Bridge.

The tram turns right on Ujezd, past backpacker fave cafe, Bohemia Bagel, and the funicular that runs up to Petrin Hill, home to a fake Eiffel Tower and a beautiful monastic library. You can also stop off at the church were the Infant of Prague lives – he’s an odd little Jesus figure who wears a frock and attracts hordes of pilgrims – or stay on until you get to Malostranske Namesti (Little Town Square) and the spectacularly baroque Church of St Nicholas, a stand-out even in this church-saturated city. From there it’s up a steep hill and you’re at the Castle gates.

My public transit wishlist

What I wouldn’t give to ride the Loop in Chicago and admire some of the most spectacular skyscraper architecture in the world. Less accessible, more dangerous but doubtless just as thrilling is the Simonstown suburban line in Cape Town, South Africa, which teeters along a sea cliff for much of its length (or so I’m told). India’s sparkling new Delhi metro doesn’t offer much in the way of sightseeing, what with being underground, but would surely be one of the world’s most interesting rides.

And this one is just a hunch, but given the alleged unpopularity of Santiago’s new bus system, I reckon a ride on the Transantiago would be a luxuriously uncrowded way to see the Santiago’s sites.

–Jane Rawson

Editor’s Note: Every so often we here at Viator start thinking about the meaning of travel — what’s it all about, why do we do it. See below for Philippa’s contribution to this growing topic. Also see Scott’s rant about Why we Travel, Rod’s Throw Away the Guidebook and Jane’s How to Travel (When You’re Not Actually Traveling).

Why do we travel?

In the last few years, I’ve done a lot of travelling. I’ve been to fantastic places, seen amazing things. But did I always know what I was looking at? And does it matter?

I know people who plan trips well in advance. They lock themselves into dates and flights and hotels, and they do a lot of reading. Guide books, national literature, internet sites. They know exactly what they should see, know the significance of it when they’re seeing it, and tick it off the list as “seen”, collecting the obligatory photographs along the way.

Not wealthy, just optimistic

I have no problem with that. It’s just I travel very differently. Perhaps I miss out on a lot of what they gain from the experience. But perhaps they miss out on a lot of what I learn and experience. Throwing away the guidebook and camera lets you actually see something. On a tram in Rome, I heard two women talking:

One: And tomorrow we should do the Vatican.
Other: I guess it’s going to take ’til about Wednesday to have done Rome.
One: Yeah, there’s a lot we have to see here.

Should? Do? Have to? Are these words that put blinkers on travel?

I suppose an important – and lucky – thing for me is that currently travel is my life. I have no home; I have storage units, one in London, one in Australia. I have three suitcases: a week, a month, more than six weeks. So I basically land somewhere, wander around to get a feel for it, find coffee, read books, have my computer nearby so I can get on with my writing, watch DVDs if I feel like it, sleep, don’t get too hooked into worrying I might waste a moment of being in that place or exhaust myself trying to see it all in one go. That’s not to say I don’t seek out the heart of the place, just that the place will remain; I can come back. And no, I’m not wildly wealthy, just optimistic.

This is old, it must be special

Recently I went to Egypt. I’d wanted to see the pyramids since I was a kid, captivated by their enigma and exoticism. I’d had this romantic dream of wandering up to the pyramids, staring at them, being moved by them. We ended up with a driver/guide although our hotel was just down the road in Giza. I had to let go of my dream. And I was really glad I did. I’d done no reading on Egypt since I was about 12, the Lonely Planet guide was deep in someone’s bag and, strangely, walls can’t actually talk. Our guide told us some really interesting things, helped us bribe a policeman to let us into the Pyramid of Cheops and saved us from sunstroke because, actually, the pyramids at Giza are quite far apart.

In Lisbon we wandered the streets, looking at buildings and monuments, blown away by the beauty and the sheer life of the city, but with little knowledge of their significance or history. Later we filled in the information with some reading and a bus tour, but at first it was pure response. Although with the inescapable: ‘this is old, this is Portuguese, this is a civic statue, this must be special,’ reason for looking in the first place.

I like travelling like that because it gives me fresh eyes – sure, they are Australian, 21st-century eyes, but that is who I am, when I live and inevitably the filter through which I understand things. But for first impressions, I really like responding to something without preconception. Does anyone ever really see the Mona Lisa anymore, or do they just see a ‘famous painting’? I remember being in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam and there was a couple behind me when I was looking at ‘Sunflowers’.

Him: Do you want to look around?
Her: Nah, I really just wanted to see that one cos I’ve got the poster. Let’s go.
Him: Okay.

These people didn’t see Van Gogh. I know they are not typical travellers, then again, maybe they are in these days of guidebooks and must-sees. We all have such preconceived notions of what places are about, what is the most important thing that we absolutely must see, and the impression we should take back with us, that we risk failing to see the reality, the lives, the unique moments all around us.

Let’s get lost

One of my favourite things is getting lost. Just wandering through a place, following my nose and exploring: real life is in the washing hanging between buildings in Zagreb, kids playing football in backstreet Venice, the suburban supermarket in Bratislava. I’ve also stumbled across the homeless congregated beside the river in Rome, and inadvertently crossed boundary streets between safe and unsafe areas of New York; when getting lost you still have to stay aware and hold onto a healthy degree of respect for the unknown place you’re in.

I’ve been lucky to work in many places: Croatia, Slovakia, Poland. In that situation you can scratch a little below the surface. But there are many, many places I’ve visited for only a few days and I’m the first to admit that some of those visits have had very superficial agendas: I was ‘The Sound of Music’ tourist in Salzburg, I went to Egypt specifically to see the pyramids, I ran from mosque to hammam to market in Istanbul.

Other cities, I have just wandered and stumbled on things and missed many must-see sites; there is a long list of things I don’t even know I’ve missed. But I’ve still had an experience of those places, seen them through my eyes not those of a tourist guide/book, and interacted with people who actually live there. And does not going inside Sagrada Familia in Barcelona mean I haven’t really been to Barcelona? Haven’t experienced Gaudi? I feel like I have. I have seen some of his buildings, had a response to them, then read a bit, understood what he was trying to do, and evaluated that according to my own initial response.

I studied art history at university and on my first trip to Europe I went from gallery to gallery ticking things off (and realising the futility of studying art when you see only out of context reproductions of works of art). I don’t think I actually looked at any of those artworks. I don’t feel like I stood in front of any one and thought about how it made me feel, or what I saw. I was programmed and having secondhand responses. Now, I’ve forgotten so much of what I learnt that I can stand in front of a painting or sculpture and really see it. Or so I like to think – I know I still ascribe value (or not) as soon as I know who the artist is.

We have a very monetary and hierarchical way of seeing the world. Of course some things are important because they have shaped our culture into what it is, and some people have risen above the pack in terms of their vision and their ability to give the world great gifts. But are they the only people worth consideration? And are the things worth a fortune the only things worth valuing?

Ignorance is possibility

Sometimes my way of travelling is deeply flawed: I got off a train in Vienna and didn’t even know which way the city centre was – the man I asked thought I was quite idiotic. I’ve eaten some terrible meals, paid way too much for things, missed looking at important monuments.

But I’ve had adventures, I’ve been surprised by the world and the people in it. I’ve nearly been swapped for three camels in Cairo, drunk red wine mixed with coca-cola in Zagreb, taken nude mixed saunas in a squat in Amsterdam. I’ve been offered work in porn on the streets of New York, thrown out of a mafia party in Bratislava and offered a Russian tank in a market in Warsaw (two weeks delivery). Then there were the World War II bullet holes in the walls of my apartment building in the ghetto area of Warsaw, and living in the building of the first bank in Zagreb, chandeliers and all.

Information is power but perhaps ignorance is possibility. I want to be awed by the depth of history, the beauty of genius, the wonder of our world as much as anyone; I just don’t want to be blinkered by other people’s interpretation. Or my own preconception.

Maybe I need to visit everywhere twice: once in ignorance, the second time with guidebook in hand. If only I was wildly rich… Anyone want to buy some optimism?

–Philippa Burne

Here’s a recipe for adventure: a long weekend visit to family in Nakon Patom, Thailand.

Naturally nobody has a map, but the general instructions seem to be, “head west to the big road, then head south; turn right just before you hit Bangkok“. Uh-huh. Great instructions to cover a 900km trip!

Thai Group Consciousness (TGC) - it’s for real!

So it’s 4am, off we set westerly into the darkness. Sure enough after an hour or two we hit “the big road,” and duly turn south. A few more hours, and the dreaded murmur begins to make its way around the car: “shortcut!”. Everyone’s getting restless, so it’s time for a Thai Shortcut. “Turn right,” go the instructions, so off I turn, away from “the big road” heading east.

Naturally, no-one’s taking personal responsibility, but the on-board Thai Group Consciousness (see below) is giving instructions: ‘right’, ‘left’, ‘right’, ‘right’; with the roads slowly getting smaller each time. I’m getting a wee bit (!) frustrated, as I don’t fancy doing a 900km trip via village back-streets, and would really like to arrive before the week is out. “Relax,” says Ann, “people know where they’re going”.

Sure enough, half an hour later, we end up in the carpark of some forlorn temple, in the middle of nowhere. “Maybe we should ask for directions,” I suggest.

So we consult the guard, and ask him how we get to Nakon Patom. And he tells us “sure, turn left, right, left and left, get on the big road, head south a few hundred kilometers, turn right just before you hit Bangkok”

The next day everyone chipped in and bought me a map.

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Thoughts About Thai Group Consciousness (let’s call it TGC)

It’s a strange thing, and none of the other farangs (Westerners) here can explain it either, but Thailand seems to operate on a different plane of consciousness. Firstly, no-one can ever make an individual decision. Any decision is always given to the group (there’s always a group), and collectively, after much sitting around, arm-waving, pointing in odd directions, the ‘group’ collectively arrives at its decision, with no-one accountable for blame.

Secondly, the TGC has brilliant long-range communication. Case in point: last year David (who’s English) and Noi, friends of ours, decided to visit my wife’s mum to collect some chickens. They live about 120km away, and had never been to her place. So they set off with vague instructions, and about half way there they decide they’d better bring a gift. So soon they pass a plant nursery, and pull in to buy a pot-plant for Ann’s mum. Meanwhile, Ann’s mum has become worried that maybe they might get lost, so decides to get in contact with them. But she doesn’t know their mobile number.

So David’s standing in the nursery, somewhere between his place and Ann’s, when the owner of the nursery approaches him with the office telephone. “It’s for you” he says, handing the phone to David…

–Jordan Digby

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s things to do in Thailand, Bangkok tours and activities in Phuket.

What with all this talk about Las Vegas and deserts on these pages, I thought I shouldn’t be outdone and have decided to weigh in with my a bit of Outback kiss and tell — casino style, mind you. The only other casino in the desert that I’ve ever seen — well, the only other one since when I married my third wife on that shaky morning in Las Vegas before the only transvestite Elvis impersonator we could find at 3am on a Sunday — is the Lasseters Hotel Casino in none other than sunny Alice Springs.

No fear & loathing here, mate

Lasseter himself was a mad enough wanderer of the desert as he was, never known to impersonate Elvis, but to name a casino after him is bordering on a whole new kind of madness. Rumour has it that the sun-parched and heat-fatigued explorer happened upon a reef of purest gold out there in the Central Desert one fine day, only problem was he forgot exactly which cave he found it in. To this day hapless explorer-types and prospectors tarry for nought out there to repeat his lucky find. Suffice to say that not even his descendants have managed to repeat his trick, wherever it may be.

Which is not to say that you couldn’t manage some luck of your own in his namesake casino out on the lower east side of Alice Springs down near the Heavitree Gap. It’s a modern complex so there’s not space to tether your camel out front, but as with every casino the carpet is sure to entertain you enough should the free-running of your camel on the forecourt prove an inconvenience.

Like Lasseter, too, weary from the sun and deranged by the heat, you can wander in from the desert’s red sands to a windowless interior which knows not Time’s name, where you can while away the hours and perhaps enjoy that other benefit of a small town – running into similarly bereft fellow small-towners enjoying a run of luck, or more likely down on their’s too. Feel free to drown your sorrows at the bar with these surprise cameo travellers, but like all drinkers you’ll soon find that sorrows can swim too.

The high-roller bar is where the action’s at, and that’s not so much if you’re up for a gamble but more for a stylin’ night out. With enough glass surfaces and electric lighting to rival Koyaanisqatsi for over-awing surroundings (not to mention leather lounges too!) this little patch of paradise will have you reaching for the Cocktail List and ready to kick back and regale yourself with stories of how the outback was won and lost all in an afternoon. Some years ago we passed a happy eve in this place, dressed in our finest three piece suits to celebrate a fellow small-towner’s birthday, only the dreadlocks of my mate belying our true roots. Word got around and some weeks later I found out from an opportunity–shop friendly mate that worked at Lasseters, that the staff mistook us for over-paid drug dealers on a night out. And who’s to argue with that?

Midnight Oil, the former legendary superstars of Oz-Rock, once played on the lawns before the Alice Casino to celebrate its 21st Birthday – a gift from the Lasseter people to the town itself. Everybody turned out and a mighty time was had. The man that now calls himself the Australian Government’s Minister for the Environment (Peter Garrett) flung himself around on the stage for one of the last times before the band disbanded. A ripper time was had by one and all which goes to show the Outback’s not without its culture, and after the bash we all headed inside to have a gambol.

Tether your camel out front, then hit the slots

At the other end of the Territory there’s a Casino too — Sky City — and if you line the palm trees up just right as you walk up to its neon lit doors you could almost swear the letters they block could leave it spelling “Scarcity”. Like all great venues that are happy to accept all manner of clientele, as long as you can stand – you can come in. If you stagger a little then they’ll probably help you stand straight to get in the doors, long as you don’t blaspheme or spit.

Located right next to the famous Mindil Beach Markets, one of the northern shores’ biggest weekly markets with all things tropical and great food t’boot, Sky City is more than just a casino. In the dry season - which looking out at the clear horizon and lack of thunderclouds and cyclones means its starting just about now – the casino hosts some of the finest national and even international jazz out the back on a stage that makes Band Aid and Live8 look like they were just pub gigs. Just another reason to pull out that suit and make like a rich person again, drink a little plonk and get all Ocean’s Eleven out on the lawns with a little sunset and smooth tunes on the side. You, too, can lead the highlife just in time to get home for a barbeque and kangaroo steak and a coupla tropical strength beers.

–Jack Brown

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s Alice Springs tours, things to do in the Australian Outback and — if you’re ready for a 3am Elvis wedding — Las Vegas tours, baby!

What’s the big deal about Florence? First off, it was an important medieval trade and commerce centre and was the home of the Italian Renaissance, which brought Europe kicking and screaming out of the Middle Ages. More to the point, the city is famous for its Renaissance art and architecture – home to Michelangelo’s David and Botticelli’s Birth of Venus – but there’s more to see than the Uffizi and Duomo. With so much to do you’d better get your skates on … or maybe your Salvatore Ferragamo shoes! For ideas on planning your trip, check out our Suggested Itineraries in Florence. We’ve listed some of the highlights below.

The Duomo in Florence

Day 1: The Art of Florence

‘Art is the queen of all sciences’, said Leonardo da Vinci; check out the Italian Renaissance masters on the Accademia Gallery and the Uffizi Gallery Guided Tour, which takes you through two of the world’s most important art galleries. Master works by Leonardo da Vinci, Giotto, Botticelli, Raphael and Michelangelo are just some of what’s on offer.

Tuscany is famous for its cuisine so when it’s time for dinner front up for the Tuscan Cooking Course and Dinner in Florence in a historic Florentine home. Learn how to cook traditional Tuscan dishes and how to match suitable wines. A sumptuous dinner follows.

The leaning tower of Pisa

Day 2: Pisa & Piazzas

Join the Private Florence Walking Tour for an intimate stroll through some of Florence’s finest architecture – Piazza Santa Maria Novella and its magnificent Dominican church containing Brunellechi’s famous crucifix and Masaccio’s Trinity, Palazzo Davanzati, Ponte Vecchio and Dante’s house. In the afternoon enjoy a leisurely drive along the Arno River on the Pisa and the Leaning Tower Tour. No trip to Florence is complete without a visit to this iconic Italian landmark.

Back in town head for the superb restaurants on and around Piazza della Signoria including the famous fine dining establishments of Gustavino, Angels and Alle Murate. There are also some sketchy tourist eateries around here too, so avoid the places that are packed out with tourists – pizzas and pastas are pre-prepared, reheated and doled out to the unsuspecting.

The hills of Tuscany

Day 3: Food & Fashion

You too can dress like the Florentine fashionistas – get on board the Florence Shopping Tour to the Gucci and Prada Outlets that visits all the most prestigious fashion companies where you can get discounts from 30% to 50%. First stop is Prada and then the tour goes on to The Mall where you can purchase glad rags by Agnona, Alexander McQueen, Armani Jeans, Balenciaga, Bottega Veneta, Burberry, Emanuel Ungaro, Ermenegildo Zegna, Fendi, Giorgio Armani, Gucci, Hogan, I Pinco Pallino, La Perla, Loro Piana, Marni, Pucci, Salvatore Ferragamo, Sergio Rossi, Stella McCartney, Tod’s, Valentino, Yohji Yamamoto and … gasping for breath! … Yves Saint Laurent. Better bring a suitcase.

In the afternoon enjoy a 40-minute double-decker bus excursion to one of Tuscany’s most beautiful areas on the Chianti Region Wine Tasting Afternoon Tour. The tour visits Romanesque churches, villas and castles, and historic farmhouses set amongst the region’s famous vineyards and olive groves. Wine and food tastings are featured, along with Chianti’s colorful history.

For more inspiration check out the full list of Florence tours and activities as well as things to do in Rome, Venice and Milan.

-Rowan M

After finding my way into Paris on the Orly airport bus, for the fine price of only 6 euro, and changing at Denfert-Rochereau to make the local connection to the metro, I am already feeling like a local. Tune into Radio Aligre (FM 93.1) and its highly regarded, uncompromisingly avant-garde music show called “Songs of Praise” (Tuesday nights from 19:30) and the artist in me is ready to hit the streets of Paris.

Reason to Love Paris #1: Canal Saint Martin

Overlooking the Canal St Martin, Paris

My trip to Paris starts with a stroll along the Canal Saint Martin, which, according to my inflight magazine, is the place to be seen. I was there for the bridges, of course, but you will enjoy it just as much for the cafes, shops, bars, and culture venues along the waterway. The Centre d’animation Jemmapes (116, quai de Jemmapes), the local cultural centre, is housed in a red brick building along the canal, nearby the famous Hotel du Nord (refreshments for the hipsters). Across the canal is a range of cute knickknack and fashion shops catering to the Parisian bobo (bourgeois-bohemian) set. Le Jemmapes, a small bar next to one of the modern green bridges, has a relaxed atmosphere and cheap vodka. Enjoy the bright red crockery with your coffee, or else chill out on the benches and watch the world float by.

Reason to Love Paris #2: Point Éphémerè

I went to Point Éphémerè on a Sunday afternoon for the Pure Presence hearing project by locus sonus, which streams sound from a different place around the world every six minutes. It’s located in a decaying waterside warehouse that has been turned into a thriving hub of artistic community enterprises. The bar looks out over the Canal St Martin, and there is a gallery where I saw fantastically designed musical instruments at the Octopus Festival: one a nostalgic wall of postcards that each played a different story when you opened them; another was a piano of pipes that you could switch off and on at will; the third a spatial audio design of the sonic city, experienced through headphones as you walked across the sensors that triggered various sounds to create this aural landscape. Cool.

Reason to Love Paris #3: Maison des Métallos & Villette Sonique

If you haven’t quenched your thirst for aural adventure, find your way to this renowned experimental music venue. At Maisons des Métallos anything could be happening, from the Bruits de Fond (sonic experiences and singular music), to an installation for 100 ventilators to an electro-sensorial composition. Part of the sprawling park of Le Villette, Villette Sonique (in the grand hall) is host to a selection of rock, pop and electro international acts. It promises the independent scene, deranged specimens, fantasties and virtuousos in general.

Reason to Love Paris #4: Palais de Tokyo

The Palais de Tokyo is one of my favourite art haunts, with a fantastically opulent facade of statues, used by the local kids as a skate park. Its cafe also has one of the best views of Paris. The building interior is decrepit-chic, with the “demolition site” feeling kept deliberately to highlight the temporary nature of the venue. This time the art confused me, but I am always willing to experience something new, and I was excited to discover hand-printed, black-and-white photocopies calling for information about the romantic conceptual French artist Sophie Calle, who is known for having hired a private detective to follow her in the past. I’m working on my dossier, and you never know, it may become part of her next work. Art meets life meets art and spins round again.

Reason to Love Paris #5: Némo Festival

I attended the opening of Némo Multimedia Festival at the Biarritz cinema near the Champs d’Elysee, with cutting edge animation, live performance and video clips. It’s a fabulously glamorous event and location. The cinema is lush, comfortable and well worth checking out (in case you need a few hours in the dark after all the over-stimulation of one the world’s most famous cities).

Reason to Love Paris #6: La Bellevilloise

La Bellevilloise is a famous industrial complex, now home to a myriad of cultural activities including an African dance centre, a heavy-metal bar (the night I was there, anyway), and the gallery where I saw another of the Nemo Multimedia Art Festival exhibitions. (This one featured 3D glasses quite heavily, with someone climbing a bridge in 3D, and a beautiful changing projection onto a desk and chair.) A friend dragged me around the corner to one of the last squat bars in Paris for cheap drinks and a genuine punk atmosphere. Be warned, if you approach from Mentilmontant metro (line 2) there is a very steep hill, so unless you need the workout, try using Gambetta (line 3) and exit Martin Nadaud. The building has an intriguing history of workers culture, and even inspired its own symphony, the fanfare bellevilloise.

Reason to Love Paris #7: Peripherique, and Beyond

Heading out over the peripherique may seem a daunting prospect, but it’s well worth the trip to Mains d’Oeuvres, an ultra-happening arts venue that is strongly connected to the local community (take Metro line 4 all the way to the end – Porte de Cligancourt; or Metro 13 to Garibaldi). The area is actually a small village, and I had a lovely bus ride back into Paris, seeing the Pigalle area, going through Montrmartre and along Blvd Lafayette, before jumping out to make my metro connection.

Vision’R festival brought together VJs from all over the world to play here; I had the great fortune of catching the Complaints Choir, consisting of a litany of everyday maladies set to music and beautifully sung by the assembled voices. There is a restaurant, concert venue and (upstairs) a mysterious Star Trek conference room.

Reason to Love Paris #8: Sèvres

Sèvres’ National Museum of Ceramics and Parc Saint-Cloud. One is a magnificent building in a gorgeous setting, only a 30-minute ride out to the end of Metro line 9 at Pont de Sèvres. Walk across the bridge and you’re at the museum, with a fantastic collection of ornately decorated ceramics. The factory behind is still in use, however it has no commercial function, only producing ceremonial plates for royalty and special occasions. Tucked away out the back of the buildings is the old school of ceramics, where the current artists have their studios and create fantastic happenings and events.

The beautiful forest you can see going up the hill is Saint Cloud park, stroll through the winding paths to a spectacular view across Paris, and enjoy finding the hidden sculptures and ruins randomly dotted throughout the trees.

Reason to Love Paris #9: The Whale of Versailles

A little further out is Versailles, where I managed to see the palace only at a distance and from a moving vehicle, while paying a visit to the Contemporary Art Centre, part of the Architecture School. I was thrilled to discover the Whale of Versailles here, although I think the artist, Christian Gonzenbach, may have moved his creation elsewhere by now. Still, it’s a fascinating counterpoint to this most historical and highly visited of sites, giving an insight into contemporary creation and culture.

Reason to Love Paris #10: Porte de Montreuil Flea Market