Archive for October, 2007

Editor’s Note: This is the 2nd post from writer and playwright Anto Howard. He’s writing about his hometown of Dublin — about the good, the bad and even the ugly. Last time round Anto explored Dublin on a Saturday at 2pm; this time he’s exploring the very same Dublin streets on Saturday at 2am.

Temple Bar, Part 2: Saturday at 2am (well, let’s call it 1am)

Ubi sunt nunc gloria Babylonia? Where now the glories of Babylon?

Beer Street, Gin Lane: Where now, Babylon?

My best days are clearly behind me. I had it all planned, I’d have a few pints in ‘The Swan’ - a classy old Dublin pub with a weird mixture of inner city regulars and med students from the nearby college – then I’d go home, watch a late night movie, stay up until 2am before heading out on my tour of the dreaded Temple Bar in the full glory of its early morning revelry.

That’s been the plan for three weeks now, but on last two weekends I flaked and found myself in bed by 11pm. Secretly, I think, I was a little afraid (after all, no sane Dubliner over the age of 18 goes near Temple Bar after 9 o’clock).

But this week I was determined, and my blog deadline was looming. To stiffen my resolve I got the slightly younger and considerably more intrepid Katie to accompany me, and together we managed to stay up until 1 am this past Saturday and venture into the little Hades on the Liffey. Even at that relatively early hour we were privileged to observe enough liquid wantonness and debauchery to fill a wall of Hogarth engravings. In fact I think his Beer Street, Gin Lane series would stand as the perfect representation of a typical night on the tiles in Dublin’s primary tourist attraction, Temple Bar.

To understand Temple Bar at night you need to go straight to its spiritual core, the little, beating, slightly clogged heart that captures the essence of the much-hyped area. No, I don’t mean the post modern, generally empty Temple Bar Gallery; nor even the genteel, scandalously overpriced Organic Food Market in Meeting House Square; to be at one with the zeitgeist of Temple bar you need so stand across the road from Abrakebabra on the eponymous central drag and simply observe.

If Temple Bar had a soul – it doesn’t – it would be found rotating like a lump of Donar meat on a slick spit under the murmuring halogen lights of Abrakebabra. Even writing the name has a power, just say it to yourself a few times and try not fall under its spell. Then imagine the power the cheap and greasy kebab franchise has over the battered and drowned mind of the drunken reveller. It calls to him as he downs his last pint and stumbles onto the cold streets. It is a place to delay the inevitable – yes, you have to go home – and to abuse your insides one last time.

If Temple Bar had a soul: Abrakebabra at 1am

I do not judge the dripping mob who swarm around the place as I stand aloof but understanding across the other side of the street. ‘Eram quod es,’ (more dead tongue, you say, but better that than a shady shish) ‘what you are, I was.’ I know the power of the place in the wee, desperate hours when the taxis and the ladies have all betrayed you. Despite the best efforts of armies of copywriters and graphic designers hired year after year by the tourist authorities to promote Temple Bar as a cultural centre, the one magical word Abrakebabra will tell you most of what you need to know about the area: It’s fake, a bit greasy, and probably not good for you in the long run.

Ibiza in the rain. Bourbon Street without the breasts.

As we walk down the crowded street strewn with empty glasses and bottles and watch the mainly young crowd spill in and out of the countless bars, it strikes me that the partying in Temple Bar feels a little frantic and forced. Less than 15 years ago the place was one of the quietest and truly coolest areas in Dublin, with a couple of hidden late-night joints and a few quirky shops the only disturbance on its narrow cobbled streets.

Now it must have more pubs per square foot than most places on this alcohol loving planet. But it has no tradition of wildness, no history of gin palaces or sheebeens (unlicensed public houses). No, everything feels new and yet already grubby, beneath the garish paint jobs and fake ‘Oirish’ ornamentation the plasterboard and veneer is already showing through.

Oliver St John Gogarty, packed like sardines

The nearby Thunder Road Café reminds me of the awful, overpriced, sanitized eateries that dominate the cleaned up Time Square. I drag Katie into the Oliver St. John Gogarty, a once above-average Dublin pub that has mutated and morphed into a complicated mechanism for turning cheese into gold. The bright green facade now dominates a whole block of Temple Bar. Cead Mile Failte (A Hundred-Thousand Welcomes) boasts their sign. Yet looking at the size of the crowd they’ve packed into the three-storey bar, I’d say the number applies more to the quantity of pints sold on an average night.

Inside it’s heaving, bodies pressed up against each other and pints lifted above heads to make room. ‘You couldn’t turn a sweet in your mouth’ to borrow a country phrase, but everyone seemed to somehow get their hands in their pockets and the tills where hopping. Fake Irish trinkets adorned every inch of the walls, a nasty rash of paper shamrocks spread to fill every nook and cranny, and oversized portraits of writers and poets who wouldn’t have been caught dead in the place – unless someone else was paying in the case of Joyce and Kavanagh perhaps – incongruously shared space with large TVs showing sport. On the tiny stage a male singer belted out some rebel song, but no one is paying attention.

I climb up a few steps and look out over the crowd. Mostly a mixture of tourists (primarily English) and Irish people up from the country. For a moment I want to shout out, ‘what the hell are you doing here!’ Don’t misunderstand me, I know the pleasure in getting drunk, I even understand the occasional joy of an overcrowded, loud, slightly tacky place late at night. But you’re in Dublin, the one thing we do well is a good pub, a good party, a good crowd, a good pint, some good traditional music… but you won’t find any of these in Temple Bar.

–Anto Howard

Next week Anto searches for authenticity in Dublin to help him forget about the horrors of Temple Bar. In the meantime, if you are planning a trip to Ireland, see all the other things to do in Dublin that don’t include hanging out at Abrakebabra at 2am in Temple Bar.

Here’s an idea: Spend New Year’s Eve on the NYC Harbor

A few weeks ago our blog on New York City: Things to Do for $20 or less struck a nerve. Not in a bad way (nobody went to the hospital). Rather, we received some comments and emails asking for more ideas of things to do in NYC, especially in the run-up to the holiday season.

And as always, asking the good people of Viator if they have recommendation about “things to do” in a city like New York, well, it’s like asking the Pope if he can recommend a store that sells pointy hats or Paris Hilton if she can recommend a good lawyer (jury is still out on this one).

Um, yeah, we got your NYC recommendations right here.

Our 5 Most Popular Things to Do in New York City

1. Get a New York City Pass. That way you don’t have to decide what to do; you can take your time, and visit the things that really matter to you. And save money in the process.
2. The New York Elegant Dining Cruise. Truth be told, I’ve never taken a dining cruise in NYC. And it wouldn’t be the first thing I’d think about, when planning a trip to New York. But month in and month out, it continues to be one of our most popular things to do in New York. Reading some of the traveler reviews help explain why…
3. Take a New York City Hop-on Hop-off bus tour. Again, not something I’d normally think about. But again, people love it (read their reviews here). I also think Rod was onto something in his recent blog about hop-on hop-off bus tours. They really do seem to help you get oriented, and fight jet lag!
4. See a Broadway show. Right now the 2 most popular tickets in town are Hairspray - The Musical and Mamma Mia!
5. The Big Apple Helicopter Flight. That’s right! Check out New York and the Manhattan skyline in a helicopter, whooshing past the Statue of Liberty and all the main sites. Best of all, the cost won’t break the bank — this helicopter tour is less than $120 per person.

5 More Things to Do… that Scott really likes

So this is a list, highly biased, of things I want to do on my next trip to New York. (Hint hint.)

1. A NYC walking tour with a private photographer. I love the idea of this — a photography expert takes you to New York’s most photogenic sites.
2. Touring New York City in a convertible 1976 Caprice? You bet. This tour is so cool I don’t need to say anything more.
3. The NYC Rock ‘n’ Roll tour, from the Ramones to Iggy Pop, New York Dolls to the Velvet Underground.
4. A New Year’s Eve Cruise in NYC. That’s right, spend New Year’s Eve on the harbor and get a perfect view of the fireworks.
5. A day trip from New York. I love NYC, don’t get me wrong. But you can also use New York as a jumping-off point to East Coast destinations such as Washington DC, Boston, Niagara Falls, Philadelphia, you get the picture.

Before you head off, also check out our recommendations for visiting NYC with kids and New York for First-Time Visitors.

–Scott McNeely

Editor’s Note: The following blog post is by Don George from his recent trip to Kenya & Tanzania. Don, a pioneering travel writer and editor for 25 years, is the host and creator of the adventure travel web site Don’s Place and the editor of the literary travel magazine RECCE. His seven books include “Travel Writing”, “The Kindness of Strangers,” and “Tales from Nowhere.”

An elephant and her children; Mt. Kilimanjaro in the background.

On our second bay in the bush, as dawn is just beginning to light the world outside my tented room, I hear a shuffle of feet and then “Jambo! Your tea, sir.” One of the Maasai staffers places a tray with a pitcher of tea, heated milk, sugar, a china cup and saucer, a spoon and two biscuits on my veranda. I throw on my clothes, down a quick cup of tea, and hustle up to the main lodge, where our safari van awaits.

Lewela, our safari director, greets us with a broad smile. “Are you ready to see some wildlife?”

We hop into the van and set out as the rising sun starts to streak the sky. Bouncing on dirt tracks through the dry brown Savannah, we soon spot a herd of elephants in the distance. As we approach, the classic Amboseli photo composes itself in my mind: a line of huge gray elephants standing in the foreground among swaying, lush green elephant grass, with snow-crowned Mt Kilimanjaro rising massive and majestic in the background.

All the elements are there, except one – the lower flanks of Kilimanjaro are visible, but the top remains tantalizingly hidden within a dense gray camouflage of clouds.

“The elephants are probably walking toward a waterhole for their own version of morning tea,” Lewela says. Their path parallels the dirt road we’re on, and we’re able to drive alongside them for about 10 minutes. Then the lead elephant veers to the right, directly onto our road. We stop and watch in awe as a parade of elephants lumbers unconcernedly in front of us, less than 15 feet from our van.

There are twelve in all, ranging from mature adults nearly twice the size of our van, with two-foot-long tusks, to babies about as tall as a bicycle. They plod slowly, deliberately, delicately across, a surprising combination of girth and grace, then plunge unhesitatingly into the dense tangle of trees and brush on the other side of the road. Immediately the air rings with the sound of tearing and scraping as they break and uproot their breakfast, grabbing great trunksful of branches and bushes and curling them into their mouths, where they methodically chew them.

“In fact,” Lewela says, watching the elephants feast, “elephants spend about three-fourths of their lives eating. Adult elephants generally eat between 200 and 400 pounds of vegetation a day. About 70 percent of their diet is grass; the rest is leaves, fruit, branches, roots and bark. As you can see, the elephants grab the food with their trunks and stuff it into their mouths; then they grind the food down with their molar teeth. They use these teeth so much that in its lifetime, an elephant will grow six sets of molars.”

Suddenly Lewela pauses. The next to last elephant in the road-crossing parade has stopped, and is now turning toward us. Ears extended, tusks pointing our way, eyes staring straight at us, he ponderously maneuvers his tree-sized legs so that he faces us squarely. “Don’t worry,” Lewela whispers, “he’s just curious about us. He’s checking us out.”

Tembo! This elephant decided to check us out closely!

For an electrifying moment, we stare at each other, and rather than fear, I find myself falling under the spell of the elephant. There’s something so gracious, dignified and wise about him. I know these are personifications and projections, but still – look at him! His big round eyes curiously, peacefully staring, his Dumbo ears ever so gently flapping, his foot-long tusks just starting to curl, his tail swishing, he’s a big gray embodiment of curiosity and self-assurance combined. We hold our breaths in taut suspension, and I feel a kind of primordial gut-tug, like some spirit-understanding is leaping from me to the elephant and from the elephant to me. An inexplicable, irrefutable connection is fused, then the enormous tree-legs start to slowly turn, heroically bearing that wrinkled gray bulk, and the elephant slowly shifts course, heavy foot-step by heavy foot-step, and ambles off into the brush.

Elephants are a good example of the complexities of conservation in Africa. “They are enormously destructive,” says Lewela. “Look at how much they eat! If they’re confined to an area, they can strip it of its trees and other vegetation. They can even transform a wooded area into a grassland. But they also open up dense forests so that all kinds of animals and plant life can thrive there. They have a role in the cycle. And of course they’re good for tourism, too. But as local people want more and more land for their livestock and farms, the elephant’s territory gets smaller and smaller. It’s a very complicated situation.”

We drive on and see our first hippopotamus, a brown blur slowly stepping through the bush. “He must have been out late partying and now he’s headed back to the swamp,” says Lewela.

Then we see elegant, impossibly elongated giraffes nibbling on tree-top leaves, and two tawny, big-maned lion brothers walking magisterially through the elephant grass. We come upon a herd of big-nosed, crinkly-skinned Cape buffalo – “a face only a mother could love,” Jennifer says – and wildebeest and zebras placidly grazing. Our drive climaxes with a rare view of two lions mating in the grass. (We share this sight with a van full of peach-skinned Scandinavian teenagers; one especially cherub-faced girl turns to us breathlessly, flashes a thumbs-up and exclaims, “Lion sex!”)

The wonders continue. But that night, as we review the day over a sumptuous meal on the dining veranda, it’s the elephant – full with a wisdom that seems to stretch through centuries – that stands, stolid and wide-eyed, in my mind.

–Don George, guest blogger

Planning a trip? Head over to Don’s Place to browse his recommendations, or browse Viator’s own tours and safaris in Kenya.

A waterfall is a waterfall, is a waterfall. Right? Visit the Iguazú Falls and see if you still believe that. The sheer size and crashing noise of the falls make this a highlight on any trip to Argentina - or South America, for that matter. Situated on the Argentine-Brazilian border, the falls are easily reached from either the small town of Puerto Iguazú, Argentina, or the much larger Brazilian town of Foz do Iguaçu.

This is not a place to spend just a couple of hours, regardless of how cynical you may be about visiting waterfalls. I had the same initial scepticism, but ended up staying two nights. As opinion is divided as to which side of the border offers the best view of the falls, do yourself a favour and book yourself two days here – at least. Broadly speaking, the Argentine side is best for getting right up close to the falls, whilst the Brazilian side offers a spectacular panoramic view. Either way, a clear day is a definite asset, but whatever the weather, your visit will without doubt be amongst the most memorable of your travelling experiences.

The following offers a description of both the Argentina and Brazilian national parks, and assumes you’re staying in Puerto Iguazú.

Argentina side of the falls

Parque Nacional Iguazú (Argentina)

Lying 20km northeast of Puerto Iguazú, this park is easily reachable by an hourly bus service (US$1, 30 minutes) – leaving between 7:30am and 8:30pm, and returning between 8:45am and 8:15pm. To avoid the heat and tour buses, catch an early one. A taxi from town costs about US$8.

Admission to the park costs US$10, and there is a new visitor centre, restaurants and gift shops, and a small train to take visitors from the entrance to various sites at the falls. The best way to see the falls, however, is on foot. Two circuits, the Paseo Inferior and Paseo Superior, provide ample viewing opportunities via trails, bridges and catwalks (pasarelas). The Paseo Inferior descends to the river whilst passing close to the falls, providing fantastic photo opportunities – or just the chance to get soaked. At the bottom of the path you can take a free launch to Isla Grande San Martín, a small island that offers the closest look at several of the falls, including the fearsome cauldron of Salto San Martín. The Paseo Superior offers a level hike and good views of the tops of several cascades.

An absolute must-see is the Garganta del Diablo (Devil’s Throat), a gigantic cauldron taking up three sides, with the steamy vapour blurring the base as the cascades crash to the bottom. You can reach the Garganta from the last stop on the train from the visitor centre – simply follow the trail to the lookout perched right at the edge. The deafening noise will have you in goose bumps in no time. You will get soaked here, but that’s all part of the experience, and the sheer monstrosity will stay with you for the rest of your life.
Aside from the immediate area of the falls, it’s also possible to explore the park’s forest and rich wildlife. A worthwhile nature trail is the Sendero Macuco, located along the road beyond Puerto Canoas. The trail leads through dense forest to the Salto Arrechea waterfall, with its sheer lateral drop of about 650m. You’ll need to be careful in the muddier parts of the trail, and taking insect repellent would be a good precaution.

The Brazil side of the falls.

Parque Nacional do Iguaçu (Brazil)

Double-decker buses leave the new visitor centre every 15 minutes, offering a pleasant ride into the falls, with useful recorded commentary in different languages. Numerous activities can be enjoyed at the various stops, such as the Poço Preto Trail which offers a 9km guided trek (US$45) by bike or on foot, and ends at Taquara island, from where you can kayak or enjoy a boat cruise to Porto Canoas.

The best place to get off the bus, however, is at the Hotel Tropical das Cataratas. From here, simply walk 1.5km down the paved trail and enjoy the magical panoramic vistas of the falls on the Argentina side, with the jungle and river below. At the end of the trail you’ll encounter a metal catwalk jutting into the river at the foot of the thundering falls. It’s windy here, and you’ll get wet, but you’re guaranteed to enjoy it, especially if you’re blessed with a clear day. when a circular rainbow can often be seen arising from the sparkling spray.
At the end of the trail, take the elevator up to the viewing platform at the top of the falls at Porto Canoas, which is the very last stop of the buses. Sit out on the deck, enjoy some food or drink from the excellent buffet restaurant, and take in the once in a lifetime view of the river and falls, before catching the bus back.

Admission to the Brazilian park costs US$3.50, and is easily reached from Foz do Iguaçu’s urban bus terminal (US$.50, 40 minutes), with buses running every 20 minutes. To access the park from Puerto Iguazú, take the bus all the way to Foz do Iguaçu’s terminal, and then catch the ‘Parque Nacional’ bus. Assuming you’re only planning on spending a day visiting the park, then minimal border formalities will apply.

Puerto Iguazú

Although the main reason you’ll be staying here is to visit the falls, Puerto Iguazú is a nice enough place in its own right, with plenty of places to stay, and a relaxed, intimate ambience. Recommended budget sleeping options include Hostel Inn (US$6 for a dorm) and Hotel Tierra Colorada, which contains plenty of light and space and costs US$12/15 for a single/double room.

The cheapest places to eat are found between Avenidas Brasil, Perito Moreno and Ingeniero Eppens. La Esquina, boasting an imaginative Italian menu, a large wine selection and classical music, is particularly recommended, with meals costing around US$7-10. For descent parrillada offerings, head to El Charo, where good-value set meals are available, as well as outdoor seating to make it a great place to watch the world go by.

–Anthony Lye

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours in Central and South America, things to see & do in Argentina and things to see & do in Brazil.

The charms of Melbourne are subtle. It’s sophisticated, a little hidden and very different from sunny, brash Sydney. All those jokes about Melbourne having ‘four seasons in one day’ may be true, but the rainy weather lends itself to a stylish layered wardrobe. And the need to find diversions inside has created a rich cultural scene. And let’s not forget all those atmospheric cafes and bars. Here’s a short list of my favourites.

Flinders Station clock, a Melbourne icon

Mario’s on Brunswick St

Mario’s is one of the first places I ever visited in Melbourne; it became a second home for Friday night dinners and lazy conversation-filled evenings. The staff is great with witty banter, although you have to follow their system and sometimes wait for a table. Jerry Seinfeld famously had someone call to book a table for six, with a parking space reserved outside, and the response of the manager – “he can wait like everyone else” - says it all.

My recommendations: Start with a “Baryshnikov” (vodka, coffee, lemon, sugar). The meals are good-value Italian classics, fresh, beautifully presented and delicious. Drop in next door to the Brunswick St Bookstore to browse through a fabulous collection of magazines, novels, art and specialty books.

Breakfast & Swim

If you like to stay fit while traveling, there are some great local pools in Melbourne. I had my stroke corrected at Fitzroy Pool, where you can also drop in for a yoga class, or relax in the spa after your swim before taking coffee and brunch at one of the cafes on Brunswick Street. My personal pick: Babka Bakery Café at number 358, for their freshly baked bread, mouth-watering borscht, blintzes and to-die for lemon tart. If you want to stick to the back streets, head straight from the pool to ICI, at 359 Napier St, for a leisurely brunch of French toast with winter berries and mascarpone, or scrambled tofu with Thai mint.

Live Music in Melbourne

One of the many venues for live music in this city, the Rob Roy Hotel on the corner of Brunswick and Gertrude Streets has atmosphere and great range of music, from Sunday afternoon alternative folk to hardcore Friday rock ‘n’ roll. Others live music options include: The Empress Hotel in North Fitzroy, The Corner Hotel in Richmond, Cherry Bar and the Ding Dong Lounge in the city, and The Esplanade in St Kilda (which comes with a gorgeous view of the bay).

Salubrious Gertrude Street

When I first moved to Melbourne, Gertrude Street was far less salubrious than it is now. My favorite bar there has changed names, although the half-enclosed beer garden remains the same: the old Yelza had a wonderful fountain in the dining room, and flocked red velvet wallpaper, but I will be happy to hear reports on the new ‘Sentido Funf’ in its place. Alia, upstairs on the corner of Smith St, has a young, trendy crowd and is good for dancing.

Gertrude Street also offers a choice of seven art galleries, from small artist-run spaces (try seventh gallery) to commercial and contemporary, the largest of which — 200 Gertrude — has a program of international and local artists. The antique shop next door will test your baggage allowance, with a very enticing range of industrial retro.

If you go all the way down Johnston St you will reach the Collingwood Children’s Farm and ‘slow food farmers market’ on the 4th Saturday of every month. Visit the goats, buy some local produce, and experience a piece of the country in the inner city. There is a rambling path along the river that leads you past cows, horses and gorgeous old buildings. The neighboring Abbotsford Convent was recently refurbished into an arts centre with studios, performance spaces and cafes.

Carlton

Heading across the other side of Brunswick St will take you to Carlton, home of Melbourne University, Lygon Street and a large Italian community. One of the best cake shops in Melbourne is the original Brunetti on Faraday St, which I have been known to visit straight from the airport. The selection of biscuits, sweets and desserts is truly magnificent, with everything from lobster tails to thick, dark hot chocolate.

If you need to rest after all that indulgence, duck into the nearby Cinema Nova for the latest art house and independent releases. The charms of Jimmy Watson can also lure you to while away a few pleasant hours over the very fine wines, before filling up on a traditional Italian meal at Tiamo, which is always bustling with locals and students. Walking through the Exhibition Gardens and back into the city gives you the juxtaposition of old and new architecture, from the opulent domed Royal Exhibition Building (1880) to the concrete modernity of Melbourne Museum, which has permanent exhibitions including famous racehorse Phar Lap, a blue whale, and a set from Neighbours (long-running soap opera).

Melbourne’s CBD (Central Business District)

Once you’re in the city – anywhere from Spring St to Spencer St – there is a cornucopia of bars, cafes and shopping. The best way to discover them is just to wander, lose yourself in the cobbled lanes and stumble across unexpected treasures. The top end of Swanston St (near RMIT) offers cheap and cheerful Tofu Curry at Don-Don to more up market Thai treats upstairs at Cookie, and if you wander down Little Bourke St into Chinatown there is a veritable surfeit of restaurants, from the ritzy Flower Drum to the tiny tucked away family-run Yamato, with fabulous gyoza and green tea ice cream.

Continuing along to the Yarra, the many establishments at Federation Square offer something for every palette, my taste buds are always satisfied by the bibimbup at Chocolate Buddha, accompanied by a sake cocktail and great view of the city. Wander down the stairs directly behind the restaurant for a glimpse of the latest and most cutting edge art and technology at ACMI.

If you find yourself on Flinders Lane, the Journal Café (No. 253) next to the city library is a dark moody establishment with communal tables and great atmosphere. Perfect for sustaining your energy before a walk across the river to visit the National Art Gallery and experience the floating sensation created by drifting through glass walkways amongst the art. Down the road behind the Victorian College of the Arts is the new ACCA – that big rusty spaceship of a building, which has a cutting-edge contemporary art.

South Melbourne

Bypass the casino after you’ve watched the fire clock incinerate pigeons, and head straight to South Melbourne to The Butterfly Club Cocktail Lounge and Cabaret Salon, one of the strangest and most wonderful bars in the city. Wander through the high kitsch salons to the bar in the kitchen for a butterfly martini, there’s a tiny courtyard in the back, and upcoming shows include such gems as ‘The Butterfly Glee Club’, ‘The Girl from Wodonga’, and ‘Don’t hate us because we’re good’. I have great memories of a decadent evening ensconced in the plush armchairs of the cosy living room, feeling like a very special guest at a decadent private party. Definitely not to be missed.

–Jodi Rose

Planning a trip? Browse all of Viator’s tours and things to do in Melbourne, from Colonial Tramcar dinners to Yarra Valley Wine Tasting and dozens more.

Editor’s note: This is the fifth in a series of articles about Darwin, Alice Springs, and the quirkiness that is the Northern Territory of Australia by Jack Brown. You can read Jack’s first, second, third and fourth posts to catch up on where the road’s taken Jack.

An important consideration when travelling is always ‘how am I going to get there?’ And the answer may not always be as straightforward as it seems.

Darwin to Alice: Not always straight, not always forward

Something as simple as a cow on the road, a blowout or a roo in the headlights can be enough to slow your travel plans to a standstill. My colleagues and I encountered this recently on departure for a spell up the track, heading up towards the Never Never country (Mataranka, as you may recall from before) via the mighty Gulf of Carpentaria.

Now, on our previous journey up this way, cutting south from Tennant Creek, we learned that a front wheel is a car’s best friend – showing you can only drive a car if it wants to be driven. This time, we’d all just been out bush the week before in a mate’s canary yellow fourbie - the idea that the embarrassing Pajero could have been “mustard coloured” was in his mind only – and we did have a small run in with that particular car, but it was still quite happy to stay a car. But that’s a story for another time.

So, this new 4WD had just had a broken engine mount fixed by the hire company. This did raise the question of ‘what kind of ute breaks its engine mount?’ But, not to worry, we loaded her up like a Christmas sock, ready to brace ourselves for the quick jaunt up the Stuart Highway. It wasn’t to be, as we discovered when a light, not so big - but a strange shape and a foreboding shade of orange - lit up on the dashboard.

“Better bring her back in,” the hire-guy shouted over the phone.

After a quick look, which, as I recall it, didn’t involve seeing the car, he hooted, “You can’t drive it, it’ll blow up,” as if I were Bruce Willis flying through the air in it to bring down a helicopter from a burning building with his geriatric ute.

We left it and him there, and so begins a stupidly long start to what should be a simple trip. Pack car. Sit in car. Start car. Go forward 500 kilometres. Turn right… and so forth. Simple.

But, somehow, the next morning, I woke up on the side of the road in a creek bed barely wide enough for a swag, wondering how I got there and why my car is there, as well as what I call a “high-speed whitegood” (one of them white Mitsubishi sedan things that fly like a spaceship and probably defrost your meat pie, too). Seems someone suggested taking what was left of my battered sedan so we could fit the hefty load into two cars and still make the pick up for the second 4WD in Tennant Creek. Brilliant idea at the time, but leaves my car 500 kilometres from home. Sort that one out later. Car count in one week so far: Four (two sedans, and on to the second 4WD).

Through the dusty haze of roadside desert hangovers, we pulled together and piloted the anonymous convoy up the highway and made a successful switch into the target ute (all part of a cheap deal that we had negotiated to take the hire car one way from Alice Springs to Darwin, thereby avoiding an extra fee for not returning the ute to the point of hire, but it seems on the way acting as envoys for a truckload of other vehicles).

Heartbreak on the Barkly

With our eyes on the Never Never, hoping it wouldn’t be the Maybe Maybe should this car look like it fancied a heart attack too, we took our first turn east and shimmied up the Barkly Highway. Plenty of burnt-out country was laid out ready to greet us heading out toward the plateau, the barren red earth host only to a plain forest of scorched sticks standing as once trees might. The darkened earth only occasionally pricked by the odd blades of inch-long green poking forth, signalling the coming regrowth sparked by the rage of a bushfire’s blaze days before. We were making good time and the wide horizon once again beckoned and promised our personal infinities as far as the pedal stayed to the metal and eyes on the faraway prize.

Like stranded handbags of a long forgotten people, rows of unemployed cows would line the distant plains when we least expected it. Like vegetarian activists at a barbeque, the cows would stand and mope and sometimes moo with a hint of bereft menace. Among the upside down signs warning of “Floodplains” (where there looked like rain had never fallen) and “Crest” (where the road barely broke its day long flatness), never had we seen a sign for “Blank Looks” and “Standing About.”

Moo, with a hint of menace

In our halted vehicular advance on our outback travails, both confronted us til the mournful browbeating from the skinny herds sunk in - the price for our moral decline among the watchful desert brethren for our former steak-eating ways. The promise for our safe passage came with final parting of the bovine blockade and never to let a hamburger grace our dry lips again: we were finally off what best be a good lentil stew for dinner.

The way up north from the Barkly Roadhouse on the Capricornia Highway set us on a path straight for Cape Crawford, or as it is also known: the “Heartbreak Hotel.” In place of any stories about “Heartbreak”, as its known, the Hotel had become legend in our minds. As it was a Friday by this stage, following our planned Wednesday departure from Alice some vehicles back, the legend that awaited became, in our thirsty minds, a great bellowing three-storey wooden den of iniquity and a boot-scooting-good-time for a country lad in search of some fun at the end of the working week of rustling and choking on bulldust. Eager as a lamb on its first born day we jetted up that near 400 kilometre stretch of tar, ready for that first beer that would signal a night on the only visible part of whatever town there may be there. By 5pm, as the light took on that dozy tropical tinge and the shadows began to lengthen, we had the sign — Cape Crawford, 20kms — in our sights and it shifted round to Beer O’Clock.

As we rounded into what was a one-horse town without its one horse, we saw for ourselves why it was called Heartbreak. Some 550 km from Tennant Creek and over 1,000 km from Alice Springs, near the edge of the Gulf of Carpentaria and feeling like a million miles from anywhere, the lone building stood. And it truly was a Heartbreak – pre-fabricated architecture straight from the back of a truck with a shabby 1980s wooden verandah that lacked character almost as much as the price of their fuel. After three beers we were set for bed, the shock of the disappointment now dulled.

We argued about who’d drive and then, again in a creek bed just 10 minutes from nowhere, we bedded down, only to discover it was 7pm and it had indeed been a big night.

–Jack Brown

If you missed Jack’s first installment of Darwin to Alice by road, you can read it here. Planning a trip? Browse all of Viator’s Darwin tours and things to do in Alice Springs.

Flying from Cairo to Aswan you get a sense of the size of Egypt, mile after mile of sandy desert interspersed with the odd abandoned building and the occasional siting of the green belt along the Nile River. As far as the eye can see it’s nothing but orange sands and blue sky.

On arrival in Aswan we disembarked the plane for the ludicrously short bus ride to the terminal (seriously its about 100 meters!) which we later realized was a good thing. Why’s that you ask? Heat! Several degrees hotter than Cairo, the dry heat of Upper Egypt is unrelenting, yet bearable due to the absence of humidity. In summer temperatures regularly exceed 50 degrees Celsius, while winter is a more sensible 30 - 35 degrees. For our arrival, Aswan turned on a picture perfect, not a cloud in the sky, 37 degree day. The locals are proud to tell you Aswan only gets about 20 minutes of rain twice a year, sometimes 3 times, and even then it’s only a light shower “like tear drops from the sky”.

With a population of around 800,000, Aswan has a much more relaxed, laid-back attitude to life than other parts of Egypt, most notably Cairo, and is less focused on the tourist dollar due to its healthy income from the High Dam and surrounding quarries. Life in general in Egypt has a slow pace but Aswan manages to take it down a notch again and this is where the charm lies in the city.

Of course there are the main attractions which you go there for in the first place - the High Dam, Unfinished Obelisk and Philae Temple, but there are plenty more charms to this city than these famous sites. The Nile River is at its most spectacular around Aswan with the white sails of feluccas dominating the waterway. The dramatic orange dunes of the West Bank plunge to the palm fringed banks of the deep blue river creating a stunning contrasting landscape.

During our stay in Aswan after our 8 day Nile River Cruise, we took a fantastic trip to Aswan Botanic Gardens on Kitchener Island. Sailing to the island on a felucca, it was so relaxing sitting back watching the beautiful landscape pass by with nothing but the sound of the wooden boat slicing through the water. No whirring engines, no chattering tour groups, just us and the Nile. Again our wonderful guide Samir joined us and told us about the Tombs of the Nobles carved into the steep slopes of the West Bank, and the wonderfully positioned Agha Khan Mausoleum looking down over the river. The water is a deep shade of blue and crystal clear once away from the edges, peering over the side of the boat you can see fish swimming in the reeds below as the sun’s rays penetrate the surface.

After sailing for about 20 minutes we arrived at the island where we visited the small botanic museum before enjoying some time strolling the peaceful gardens. Containing plant species from around the world, the space provides a tranquil escape from the crowds and heat of Egypt. There is a small outdoor cafe at the rear of the gardens where we met up with Samir again and sat for at least an hour just chatting about life. I think we covered everything from Islam and Ramadan to rude cockney slang and how to tell the difference between a Canadian from an American accent!

Sailing back to Aswan we had plenty of time to enjoy the ride as our “captain” played in the wind and currents, showing off his expert felucca sailing skills, and giving us a little heart-starter catching the wind at such an angle to tilt the boat on its side so we thought we would fall into the water. With a cheeky giggle he corrected the angle and we continued on our way, sailing for around half an hour. Our captain was the oldest felucca sailor in Aswan and Samir translated to us when other passing sailors would call out to him in Arabic, teasing him to retire.

We later mentioned to Samir that we wanted to watch an English football match that was being played that afternoon but our hotel did not have the channel. Within a few hours he had arranged for us to visit another hotel nearby who opened their bar and showed the match on the big screen TV just for us! Where in the world do you get service like that? Later that night we went for dinner at a local restaurant Samir recommended to us called Nubian House, which serves Nubian food in a peaceful setting. The restaurant sits high above Aswan with spectacular views over the city and the Nile, and we spent hours enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

The hospitality and kindness shown to us in Aswan will stay in my mind forever and is without a doubt the highlight of my fantastic visit to Egypt. Considering the amazing monuments and fascinating history of the country, this is no mean feat.

-Kerrie O’Mahony

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours and things to do in Luxor, Aswan & Upper Egypt, and throughout Egypt. Also have a look at traveler photos of Egypt over on the Viator Flickr site.

Mina Harker, Vampire Guide

A few years ago, before I was working at Viator, I was invited to a distinctly different birthday event. We all met atop Nob Hill, it was a typically chilly and foggy San Francisco night and all the streetlights had that weird halo effect going on, like they used to do around Cybill Shepherd’s head on Moonlighting (if you are a child of the ’80s, you know what I mean). We sat enjoying some beverages from our brown paper bags, waiting for our guide to show up. She dramatically appeared, floating through the fog and shadows to greet us. She claimed to be Mina Harker of Dracula fame, and she looked and acted the part so well, I must say I have no reason to doubt her word.

We trailed behind our velvet clad leader as she walked around Nob Hill, educating us about San Francisco’s unwritten spooky past. Quite a lot of San Francisco’s colorful history came out (it was, after all, known as the Barbary Coast) in addition to some possibly mythical tales Mina also shared. I have to give her credit, she kept ten or so fairly tipsy, and getting colder by the second, long time San Franciscans riveted. It helps that Nob Hill at night is gorgeous, the Fairmont Hotel, Grace Cathedral, the Mark Hopkins and many other architectural wonders of San Francisco are all perched atop that one hill. Add a little scenic fog, a 150+ year old vampire with some great stories and you have a magical night!

But all good things must come to an end, and it was cold, shivery, blowing on your hands cold. We were inclined to beat it indoors to the nearest venue for hot toddies and Irish coffees. But Mina said she had one last tale to tell. A member of our group (who shall remain nameless) moved by the spirit of the tour yelled, “Vamp it up!” And, as she had been doing wonderfully all night, she did.

– Kelly G

Want to join Mina on Nob Hill? You’re not too late to book the Vampire Tour of San Francisco for Halloween, or many of the other vamperific Halloween activities from Viator.

Our trusty taxi!

There are many, many temples to be seen as you travel along the Nile River through Upper Egypt, some well known and often visited, others sitting lonely on the banks with few if any visitors. Obviously you have the biggies like Luxor’s Karnak and Hatchepsut, and Aswan’s famous Philae Temple, but when you get out of the 2 big cities and explore the river by boat, you get to see some of the lesser known ones.

On day 2 of our 8 day Nile River Cruise we found ourselves docked in Edfu for our first shore excursion of the trip. As we disembarked we were happy this had been pre-arranged, eliminating the need to negotiate with the dozen or so locals vying for business with their horse and carriages. This is the primary means of transport in Edfu and it is a pleasant 10 minute ride to the town’s major attraction, Edfu Temple or the Temple of Horus.

Arriving at our destination and running the gauntlet of the tourist bazaar to the main entrance, it was hard not to be in awe of the Temple of Horus. The best preserved and most intact of all Egyptian temples, it towers overhead with giant carved decorations on the facade. Built to celebrate both the marriage of Ptolemy XIII and Hathor, and to honor the falcon god Horus.

Temple of Horus in Edfu

With Grecian influences the Temple of Horus is not a true Egyptian masterpiece, however this makes it none the less impressive. After a thorough introduction to the history of the temple from our fabulous guide Samir, it was time to go inside to see the Great Hypostyle Hall and the Inner Sanctum. In places the hieroglyphics and carvings are still intact, untouched by the Christians who have defaced many of Egypt’s great sites, in particular the walls of the laboratory where perfumes and incense were created. Here you can see the hieroglyphic formulas for such potions, carved intricately on the walls from floor to ceiling.

At the very back of the temple is a roped off area which once contained the golden carving of Horus and a diminutive replica of the wooden solar boat belonging to the god. The originals of both are on display at the Louvre in Paris where they have been since the French used deception to smuggle them from the country - let’s face it, they stole them! This is a common story throughout Egypt with many precious items mercilessly taken from their true home, it’s not just the French either, English, American, German, the list is long.

We were once again thrilled at our decision to travel with a private guide for our tours and day trips, allowing us to learn so much and have his expertise to see the site with little interruption from other visitors. Without the crowds of Cairo and the blatant commercialism of Luxor, the Temple of Horus in Edfu is well worth a visit. It is feasible to visit on a day trip from Aswan, but more commonly it will be part of your Nile River Cruise itinerary.

-Kerrie O’Mahony

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours and things to do in Upper Egypt and throughout Egypt. Also have a look at traveler photos of Egypt over on the Viator Flickr site.

See? Puffins are super cute.

I’m not sure what it is about me and animals that start with the letter “p” (see my previous post about penguins), but I definitely have a soft spot. When I was in Iceland last year I could not resist a whale watching cruise that also offered a visit to Puffin Island, happy home to many, many Atlantic Puffins. At the time, this was not an activity we offered on Viator.com, which turned out to be a gross oversight on our part. If you ever wonder how we find some of the over 5,000 tours and activities on Viator.com, occasionally, we find them this way.

We bundled up and hopped aboard the ship, which departed Reykjavik for the chilly waters of the Faxafloi Bay. On the way out and back we spotted some dolphins and Minke whales, but the real treat, at least for me, was checking out Puffin Island. Puffins are terribly cute to begin with, but they are even cuter once you start to hear all the fun facts about them our guide announced as we neared the island.

Puffin Island from the ship, yep, all those little spots are puffins.

Top 3 Puffin Fun Facts:

1. Puffins use their wings to swim underwater, they dive for up to one minute to catch fish.
2. Puffins usually mate with the same partner, they lay one egg per year and share chick rearing duties.
3. Sometimes puffins overeat and become weighed down by all the fish they have gobbled, which causes them to have trouble taking flight. Basically they try to fly, but are too fat to, so they give up and wait it out.

All I have to say is this, a puffin is really cute, but a puffin that has eaten so much it has trouble taking off, is maybe one of the cutest things I have seen. You too can head out on the Whale Safari and Puffin Island Cruise to see puffin cuteness first hand. In the meantime, enjoy the melodic sound of the puffin.

– Kelly G