Archive for June, 2008

I used to think that “Northern Lights” was just an exotic name for nasty skunk / plutonium-powered hydroponic weed from the boffins back at the Smoking Lab in Amsterdam. Turns out it’s more than just the stars you see on the back of your lids when you’re belly-up in a back alley outside a “coffee shop” after too much of the good stuff – it’s also some wacky plug ‘n’ play outfit that does a line on outdoor dance-parties and projections way up near the Arctic Circle. Their lo-tech tricks whirl about over your head, but only if you’ve had enough reindeer-juice and carefully hunted your own shadow for days in the middle of winter…

Pamela Anderson, in Finland for midsummer, says hello to Fertility!

Elusive as it may be, it’s always nearby and ready to pounce, producing strange glowing green filaments of God’s own noise-hairs across the sky, bringing awe and wonderment to the eye of even the most hardened baby-seal clubber.

Sounds strange? Too bloody right – because if you think that’s a little bit far fetched then you’ve clearly got no idea what goes on when it’s all-day daytime after the winter’s eternal nightclub is shut for the summer! Wobbling about the centre of the sky on a drunken axis all of its very own, the Day of the Midnight Sun is truly a thing to behold – as weeks of darkness with nary a glimpse of the great glowing orb to call itself daylight slowly become weeks (or just day’s depending on how far north you’re lost) of sunlight with only a wink of day to give you rest from the Party Party Party deep-north-style.

Slip on your summer bonnet

Perhaps after you’ve perfected your mid-winter tan and now you might fancy a little all-day summer sun and need to spruce things up with a little colour? Slip, Slop, Slap – the public advertisement saying goes back in Australia come summer (“slip on a shirt, slop on some sunscreen and slap on a hat”) – so the intuitive mob up north have the perfect summer bonnet for you!

Coming in all manner of sizes and hilarity, no solstice celebration is complete without one. And now you’re all dressed up, you’ll be needing a funny dance to go with that hat – and how about a pole to do it around? Its easy to see that once the sunshine comes streaming in, sensible ideas make a beeline for some cosy cave up in the hills so the common folk can get down to some proper partying in the sweltering mid-summer solstice sun Swedish-style!

After you’ve had your much loved pickled herring, beer and schnapps you’ll be all fired up for the bonnet-wearing, pole-dancing, flower-picking, bonfire-burning, traditional-song-enjoying party to end them all, hopefully.

Unhinged bonnet-wearing madness!

No doubt you haven’t slept for weeks, probably because the sun rarely dips from its near-vertical trajectory, and you’ve been out gathering the choicest daisies for the maypole that just screams “Fertility!” to the vast northern meadows.

Once your maypole is erect and your bonnet secured, there’s little more to be done than work your uncalloused winter feet to a frenzy of sober celebration in preparation for the indubitable highlight: the Små Grodorna (small frog) song!

Små grodorna, små grodorna är lustiga att se!
Små grodorna, små grodorna är lustiga att se!
Ej öron, ej öron, ej svansar hava de!
Ej öron, ej öron, ej svansar hava de!
Kou ack ack ack, kou ack ack ack!
kou ack ack ack ack kaa!
Kou ack ack ack, kou ack ack ack!
kou ack ack ack ack kaa!

But what could it all mean? Something like “Small frogs, small frogs are fun to see!/No ears, no ears, no tails they have!” the last lines of course being obvious examples of a collective unconscious / species memory – so who could doubt the sense of such things?

Seriously, this dance goes off like a bucket of prawns in the midsummer sun! With hands to the side of the head (for no ears) and then to the back (for no tail) with so much jumping around that even the heftiest meal of pickled herring and fresh potato would settle in an instant. See for yourself! Just think of all the examples of famous Swedish frogs and you’ll be wondering why the connection never struck you before - just like a pan in the face on a clear midsummer’s night!

So what with all this dancing, and pickled fish, staying up all night and day and - of course, beer - there’s bound to a moment or two for romance. As the locals will tell you, the salted porridge (dreaming porridge) together with the seven different kinds of flowers carefully picked and stashed under the pillow for the sleep before Midsummer, will have the future husband revealed for the young ladies in their sweet salty dreams. So get with the program, don’t doubt it for a moment – prepare for that Swedish wedding, and book that ticket now!

What about the less-outgoing places?

White Night in St Petersburg, Russia

In less outgoing countries, the midsummer celebrations are made more seriously and quietly. In St Petersburg, Russia - which due to some freak of geographical latitude bending is on the same line as Oslo, Norway, and the southern tip of Greenland and Seward, Alaska - they call it the Beliye Nochi (White Night) and it’s mainly seen as a chance to save valuable Soviet electricity because they don’t need to turn on the street-lights. Forget those cumbersome bonnets and skirts, these crazy folk take their chance to walk along the canals and rivers of the city, write poetry and literature and celebrate the whole mad romantic occasion, with… walking and strolling - or as one guide described it, doing “nothing in particular”. Unbelievable!

Although, after enduring months of bone-numbing northern Russian cold its easy to imagine that heading outside for some sunshine, even if it is midnight, would be an event in itself and worthy of a celebration. As you can see (from the photo) the light does do something to endear itself to a certain romantic nostalgia and perhaps a little fondness could percolate in with enough bridge wandering, canal gazing and heart-warming Russian vodka.

Just a note for the forward thinking people out there – the Arctic circle doesn’t just run a monopoly on the White Night / Midnight Sun specials, but given the fact that there are no permanent settlements south of the Antarctic Circle you’re probably best off heading up north in July for this magic and unruly time of year.

The added bonus for a July sojourn to the endless days is you don’t have to hang around and spend Christmas (as summer solstice in the Southern Hemisphere is late December) with a bunch of scientists too… And let’s face it, given the Swedes’ and perhaps even Norwegians’ reputation for knowing how to have too much fun, who would want to spend the most exciting nights and days of the year with the horn-rimmed spectacle brigade in the midst of polar research and on the run from humanity?

-Jack Brown

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours & things to do in Sweden, Arctic Finland, Alaska and, if you’re a Midsummer contrarian, Patagonia in Chile.

For almost everyone in world getting to Australia takes a long time. Sure, it’s no longer necessary to hang your head over the ship’s rail for a month or more, as visitors from the mother country (that’s England, for the history-challenged among you) routinely did until just 40 years ago. But a flight time that makes double-digits is really just too long. More than 20 hours from Western Europe! Ouch.

Beat jet lag on your next trip to Sydney

So when you arrive in Australia, your first inclination is likely to involve a long sip from your duty-free haul before hitting the hay – never mind that it’s 10 in the morning and the sun is shining on a classically beautiful antipodean day. But you’ve come so far, and it’s a big country. Time is precious.

For some, doses of melatonin at night for a few days after arrival does the trick. Melatonin is produced naturally by the body at night, and is one of the triggers for sleep. We’re not here to prescribe drugs, though.

Lucky for you, then, that Australia’s biggest cities are perfectly well set up to offer you natural reviving alternatives to surrender. Smash your body clock to bits with this guide to surviving jet lag, Aussie-style. Of course, if you think jet lag is all in your mind, just try this.

Conquer your jet lag in Sydney

If you’re one of the 32 million people to pass through Sydney’s Kingsford Smith Airport, you needn’t worry. In terms of jet lag remedies, Sydney is one of the best destinations in the world.

According to medical experts, light and food are especially successful in warding off that 11am sleepy feeling, and Sydney is blessed with generous helpings of both.

Getting a good dose of sunlight is the best medicine, and – despite its big-city feel, Sydney has lots of opportunities to stay outside. Start your day with an energising run in the Botanical Gardens. Trust me: you’ll feel better!

Stay awake with a wander around Sydney’s star attractions surrounding Circular Quay. Start at the Sydney Opera House and walk around to the Harbour Bridge. A dose of sun-kissed vitamin D will give you the energy burst required to climb the bridge! Unforgettable. If you’re feeling the worse for wear, perhaps just a stroll around Hyde Park or – better yet – check out the open spaces and spectacular views around Mrs Macquarie’s Chair, not far from the Opera House.

If it’s morning when you arrive, the best thing you can do for your body is a good breakfast full of protein. Try bacon and eggs or a high-protein cereal with yoghurt. Head to bills in Darlinghurst for brekky at a Sydney institution.

Through the day, try to steer clear of coffee and alcohol. Oh, ok, just one won’t hurt, will it? In the afternoon you might feel the lethargy kick in. Crash through or crash! Jump on a harbour cruise or ferry and get a lungful of the fresh stuff on your way to, well, anywhere. Manly is a great trip and a fun destination, but shorter trips across to the lovely streets of Cremorne Point or the vibrant shopping and entertainment hub of Darling Harbour should do the trick too. If you’ve got a bit more time, take a wander through the Taronga zoo. Soak up the sun and tick those kooky native animals off your list at the same time.

In the evening, get your body into sleep mode with a good high-carb dinner. Tuck into a pizza at Pizza e Birra in Surry Hills. Yum. A couple of days on this Viator Jet Lag Buster Schedule, and – as the locals say – you’ll be apples.

-John Ryan

Browse Viator’s complete list of Sydney tours and things to do, from Sydney Opera House tours to day trips to the Blue Mountains.

It’s wrong to buy designer ripoffs, right? But when they are being sold as ‘original copies’ do the same rules apply? Because that is the sales pitch of the guys in the markets of Istanbul. Sincerity abounds as they shake Dolce and Gabbana shirts and Prada boots and Versace jeans in front of you: ‘Original copies’.

Istanbul’s Spice Bazaar

Istanbul has a couple of big, famous markets: the Spice Bazaar (Egyptian Market) and the Grand Bazaar (Kapali Carsi, Covered Market). Both of them are must visits on any trip to Istanbul. And they are definitely not just about the original copies. In fact, that’s about one percent of what’s on offer.

The Grand Bazaar is a mind-boggling adventure of carpets, shoes, lamps, tiles and pottery, belly dancing outfits, fez, water pipes, cotton and wool and leathergoods, and of course the ‘original copies’. There are thousands of shops; it’s like a little city - all the streets have names. Definitely take some sort of map with you. We had the Lonely Planet guide and that had a few keys shops marked so by twisting our heads a lot and guessing a bit, we managed to find our way back out of the place after our appetites for shopping were assuaged.

But that took a while to happen. We were in the Grand Bazaar for a good half day, wandering and being accosted and chatting and looking at things. Salesmen were continually trying to entice us into their shops. But it was done so politely: Excuse me, Sir, Lady, Where are you from? They even said ‘goodbye’ with a charming smile as I shook my head and wandered on. One man heard my accent and pulled out a New Zealand keyring. I told him I am actually Australian and he shrugged it off: ‘But you are neighbours’, with a big smile. I bought a scarf from him. I needed it to cover my head in the mosques anyway.

Bargaining? I got better

I got better at bargaining. It’s half the fun and the merchants expect it. That’s why their prices are overly high to begin with! And they quickly drop. Particularly in the off-tourist season. We were there in February and the weather was gorgeous, although we might have had some luck on our side there.

Entrance to the Spice Bazaar in Istanbul

In the middle of the labyrinthine Grand Bazaar, there are some tea and cake stalls – godsend. We sat on low stools and were served wonderful mint tea by Turkey’s answer to Bryan Ferry – a very handsome man indeed. We asked him to recommend some cakes and there was lots of honey and pistachio nuts involved – yum!

Part of the joy of sitting there, apart from kicking my shoes off my very very tired feet, was to watch all the other shoppers. The locals strode through (because this is very much a real market and not a tourist trap although beware pickpockets). The tourists looked baffled, overwhelmed and joyful all at the same time. Although the couple that passed us for the fourth time on their hunt for an exit looked closer to tears than anything else. As I said: take some sort of a map. And a lot of faith because there are many exits onto lots of surrounding streets – then the trick is to find the one with the tram on it. Mind you, while you might get lost, you will never be bored.

Actually, we’d done our fair share of being baffled tourists trying to find the place. As usual, no street map in hand but a vague notion of where the market should be, was enough to head me confidently up a street. The smart money is on catching the tram, getting off at the recommended stop and hey presto! There is the Grand Bazaar. Not me. And, you know, the streets of Istanbul are not set out on a convenient grid system…

A helpful man standing outside a café holding a delicate cup of mint tea grinned and said: Grand Bazaar? I nodded a little shamefaced at having lost such a major landmark, and he gave us excellent directions in perfect English.

The beauty of heading through the back streets and getting a little lost, was that we saw a lot of normal life going on. Traffic and shops selling everything and anything and men standing outside cafés with delicate cups of mint tea!

Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar: A whole other city

Reaching the bazaar, we really felt like we were entering a whole other city. We took a deep breath and plunged inside. My overall impressions were of golden light and people and voices and haggling and laughing and wishing I didn’t have to travel light so I could buy rugs and lamps and stools and cushions. Sigh! The thing I did get was a copper Whirling Dervish (the Sufi mystics) which naturally whirls on it’s stand. I had seen some dervishes perform the night before at the train station (highly recommended) so this was the memory of Istanbul I wanted. Ironically, it is probably heavier than a rug, or 6 cushions, even a stool! But it is easier to pack.

My travel sidekick, Steve, found a must have bedspread and pillowcases. They came with their own bag and were easy to transport as carryon luggage and definitely worth the effort as he now lives with their beauty and quality every day.

Our visit to the Spice Bazaar was a little different. We did this one as part of a tour – a visit to the bazaar then a cruise along the Bosphorus but more of that later.

So, no issue with finding this market. Our driver dropped us off and we plunged straight through the main door. But regardless, although smaller than the Grand Bazaar, it is easy to find because it is located next to the New Mosque (Yeni Cami), which is of course, very old, and beautiful, covered in Dutch tiles and another must visit. Along one side of the exterior are taps and troughs and I watched men arrive, following the call to prayer, and wash their feet before entering the mosque.

Istanbul’s Egyptian Spice Bazaar: Smelly, heavenly

The cats of Istanbul

The overwhelming sensation of the Spice Bazaar is the smell. It’s heavenly. All those spices and teas mingling. Long strands of flowers hang on the outsides of stalls, and there is stall after stall piled high with brightly coloured spices, Turkish delight (lokum) of many many flavours, other cakes and sweets and foods. There are also natural medicines – honeys and spices. I had a sore throat and the man immediately brought me a rich dark honey. Sadly, there was only one size: jumbo, and I was on a plane the next day. I did buy some throat lozenges though, full of ginger and mint and eucalyptus and they were excellent. I also bought some loose fruit teas, vacuum packed for easy transportation, and, of course, very light-weight. One was a rose petal tea, the other a mixture of fruits. Both delicious and long-lasting – I asked for 200 grams of each and my eyes widened at the size of the bags. But, hey, I am still enjoying that tea!

Outside the Spice Bazaar is a food market. Again, highly colourful and very tempting. We wandered amongst the locals and the cats. There are cats everywhere in Istanbul and they were lying all around the stalls. One empty fruit box had three cats sleeping in it! Wash fruit well!

Cruising along the Bosphorus

Our bus driver picked us up from the Spice Bazaar and drove us to a wharf across the Galata Bridge (which is always lined with fishermen). It was great to be driven around Istanbul a bit because it is such a huge city and when you only have a few days there, you can miss a lot. And the boat ride on the Bosphorus? Worth every second. In fact, I would do it again and even again.

Cruising up the Bosphorus, I was amazed by the history. Palaces (now mostly expensive hotels), and forts, old wooden residential districts and hip students districts. The variety of architectural styles was great: rococo, and art nouveau, a stone hillside fort and traditional wooden Ottoman houses, plus some modern buildings, and the massive suspension bridges. There are two bridges linking the European and Asian sides: the Bosphorus Bridge and the Fatih Bridge. Seeing the traffic at a standstill on these two bridges made me realise the sheer scale of the city. And why people catch the ferries. Even so, it’s a city where you leave plenty of time to make your journey across town.

There was a commentary on our boat, and my head was swinging from side to side trying to take in everything. It was impossible. Istanbul is a place you could go back to a hundred times, seriously, and still have things left to discover. In fact, you could visit the Grand Bazaar that many times and still find new things. Like that fake Hermes Birkin bag! Right in front of me! The godhead of designer accessories, singing its siren song. A waiting list of years for a genuine one. And this was, after all, an Original Copy! Not to mention being a lot, lot cheaper. They almost had me persuaded. Almost.

-Philippa Burne

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours and things to do in Istanbul and tours in Turkey. Also check out other Viator blog posts about Istanbul: Hammams in Istanbul, Ode to Istanbul and Istanbul Rules.

London is brimming with life, from the pounding underground nightclubs (catering for every music taste known to mankind) to the chic boudoirs bustling with sparkling Russians in Bond Street. Tourists and natives alike are spoilt for choice on how to spend their days, but rest assured the majority will cost you an arm and a leg.

Go to the loo in a public train station and you will be charged before your zip has even started its descent, sip a glass of water in a restaurant and you will be forced to take out a mortgage to cover the unwanted bubbles; even asking for directions sometimes costs you 20p.For the discerning cheapskate with a desire to spend the day without signing a cheque for a bottle of coke, there are many hidden activities which won’t cost you a penny.

Always look on the bright side of life

* * * * *

“I have always been among those, who believed that the greatest freedom of speech is the greatest safety, because if a man is a fool, the best thing to dois to encourage him to advertise the fact by speaking.”

–Woodrow Wilson

For those who truly love humour — and are enraptured by the abnormal, captivated by intelligent discussion and would go out of their way to impress their girlfriend without even opening their wallet — I advise heading down to the ancient relic to democracy and free speech. That would be Speakers’ Corner based at the Marble Arch end of Hyde Park.

After a heavy Saturday night, both for your mind and your finances, there is no better way to prepare yourself both mentally and monetarily for the new week, than watching the numerous speakers and the crowds they lure. Why pay through the nose to see one of London’s world renowned theatre shows, when you can walk on stage and partake of the farce for free.

There is some contention as to when and why Speakers’ Corner came into being. Some believe it was post the 1855 Sunday Trading Bill riots, where an act of Parliament was passed to allow the space to be given over for public speaking. Others, however, date it much further back to 1108, when a notorious gallows was erected, where the tradition of granting a condemned man the right to utter his last word prior to hanging became the custom. Either the former or the latter this cornerstone of egalitarianism has over the centuries enticed historical icons such as Lenin, Marx and Orwell to modern day characters such as Ramzi Mohamed (one of the London bombers of 7/7).

* * * * *

“The right to be heard does not automatically include
the right to be taken seriously”
–Hubert Humphrey

An older lady dressed conservatively in a red top stands upon her portable step ladder and denounces the openly smirking crowd on their evil nature in having forsaken God in favor of their greedy search for knowledge. “Which God?” an onlooker screams back.

A preacher admonishes his dwindling flock

It’s a declaration she either doesn’t hear, or chooses not to acknowledge, as she launches into a boy from the watching horde, flanked by his father asks the lady how he can be evil, when he has never done anything wrong and still knows very little. She looks down at the smiling blond boy, then turns knowingly to his father whom she promptly threatens to punch for raising such an intelligent child. The crowd breaks into uproarious laughter and the discussion recommences.

Further down a tall, commanding, articulate, black American Muslim in bright white robes is busy arguing the merits of Islam and its persecution by Christianity and Judaism. A small bearded man from the on looking crowd chirps up that he himself is Jewish, assuring that the debate quickly turns into a circular farce with slanderous accusations flying to and fro like proverbial eggs in a school dining hall. The crowd grows as those from nearby speakers sift across to join the discussion, all the while presided over and kept in order by the Islamic speaker. Things turn heated and tempers increase as the decorous atmosphere could turn, but it never does. As the debate comes to a close, smiles break out and hands are shaken like boxers stepping out the ring, exhausted but elated.

Opposite stands a man, straight and erect unmoving like a soldier, eyes straight forward and arms to the side, further away from the masses and the flaring arguments, dressed in a pair of simple white chinos, a beige anorak and a fisherman’s cap looking lonely and forlorn. A large placard hangs by a string round his neck. ‘It’s going to get worse’ it boldly declares, a highly sobering thought for a Sunday afternoon, possibly a dejected a member of the Bush or Brown cabinet.

Standing ground against the argumentative crowd

A loud shout erupts from a crowd down the way, followed by whistles and claps. A muscular young man with dark shades and braids has won over the mob with his analysis of the Iraq war.

“How can the instigator of a war, deemed illegal by the UN, the international police force, then realistically become the imposers of peace and expect the defeated to become pacified!”

More claps erupt. A devil’s advocate, surely in cahoots with the eloquent speaker argues, “but Saddam had weapons aimed at the west and was killing his own people, it was a justified war.”

He smiles knowingly at the speaker who grins shaking his head, “you know I’m just your Huckleberry Tyrone, that’s all I am”. Tyrone, the speaker looks around to the endeared crowd, ‘have you heard of Kazakhstan? They hold the world’s third largest nuclear arsenal. Burma? Ruled by a government who kills innocent monks. I don’t see any green berets marching down their streets!”

Again the crowd erupts.

There is much to do in London but little is free and a visit to Speakers’ Corner has you walking away feeling both enlightened as to the peculiarities of our fellow man and mentally elated. The greatest gift of travel is to meet people and learn about the lives of others, yet it is seldom that we are granted access into their minds. Speakers’ corner is a rarity and allows instant discussion to happen between complete strangers, some of whom you would rather never meet again.

–Christoph Courth

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s London tours & things to do in London.

The kids got it sorted

If it’s hot, the kids have got it. Like yellow T-shirts this summer. They are “it”.

It’s taken me a few years, maybe ten, but I have just started to get used to mobile phones in movies. Y’know like the villain is out doing some villainous thing and then the goodfella finds out and the Head of Police calls him up on his mobile…

Maybe a bad analogy for a travel blog, but fact is they don’t meet up anymore: it’s just a call on the little plastic thing in the pocket. No telegram (Must stop bad guy stop). No butler walking out to the pool with a yellow telephone, one of those old one’s with a separate talky-bit and hand-piece, holding the ready call aloft requesting that there is a call for Mr Bond or whoever is on the job that week. No one even sits in an office or a house anymore, it all happens while they’re out there, just doing stuff, and then they change their mind and do other stuff.

Talky bit and hand piece

Which goes to show how life is just like the movies, cos the kids do that too, always changing their minds and just doing stuff.

So like in Casablanca when that fella says to that Sheila “We’ll always have Paris”, well now he could save himself the trouble and just send her a text (WLL ALWYS HV PRS), simple as that, job done. Cue closing credits, fade out. Romantic, eh?

In my early coming-to-terms-with mobile phones, on a visit to the Big Smoke down in old Sydney-town, I fast discovered I was dead-in-the-water without one of the little buggers ready in my pocket for the constant winds of change wrought by the city-slickers caprice.

“Where were you at the pub the other night?” I’d ask when I caught up with my mate a couple of days later.

“Oh, yeah, we decided to go to the other pub across the road after we had a bit of pizza down the wharf, “ he coolly replied. “Why didn’t you call me on my mobile, mate?”

I probably would if I had taken that bank loan out and remembered to bring a sack full of coins to for all the time I’d be spending at the pay phones to keep up with what they are all doing once they changed their minds and then changed them again for good measure. Whatever happened to good old plans, like being a fella of your word and sticking to it?

World to Jack: It’s a TXT thing

The power of the thumb, circa 1975

So its not just those Wall-Street-style ’80s stockbroker-types shouting “buy buy, sell sell” on their brick-sized mobile fashion accessories. No, no.

Every kid has one now and they’re not all on some plan where you owe your house by the end of the week. Fact is, most mobiles are cheaper than the house line, though this probably comes not as a surprise to you gentle reader, as its Jack that’s getting the update just now.

So again, it’s not just said brokers txting each other with C U IN PARIS 4 LNCH, it’s the kids that have got the power now, too.

And what with the old school power of the thumb (does anybody remember hitchhiking?), you put the two together and you have a powerful recipe for Spontaneity. This is where Jack hits his stride.

Jack gets with the program

So the dude is thinking of going somewhere, say he’s got a mate there, and doesn’t know how to get to said place, where to stay or exactly what to do. That’s pretty close to a plan y’reckon? Grab your laptop (it’s not in backpack? Get with the program, the kid’s got it covered), steal some wireless from a hotspot café or a connection that some network has left unsecured, grab some bandwidth and maybe a quick spot of spamming is in order?

So just get on Skhype, Fakebook, or whatever it is that spins your lid in that whole world of “social networking” that has become so en vogue these days (maybe even Micepays if you’re the musical kind) and message the man with the plan or whoever it is that you want to find. They’ll get the message just in time, and just to be sure maybe sling out a few txts because you can always get that on the run with the power in your pocket

The future. Jack has seen it.

If you’re not sure of where it is, be it round the corner, interstate or across the continent, you can Google map yourself stupid, get all the details on which corner is which, or just grab a bus or train timetable. As the kids know, a guide book is just something that some old fogey wrote to make a buck, is probably out-of-date by the time he got back to the next comfortable couch and probably has about enough looseness in the whole planning as a bolt in a precision-piece of equipment - like not much.

Kinda inflexible, or even a bit stiff and not meant to be messed with… Like Mr McNeely said before, maybe the fella hasn’t even been there himself? So who’s to trust that. Besides, who wants to weigh down that bag with some brick that was written before last year?

So by now the fleet-footed kids have made the way by the train/bus/road of choice and its looking like the way is clear. Go west young man, or just go, the word’ll come back once the front door to opportunity is ready to be knocked on in the next city.

Train is booked out? Jump on and work it out with the conductor once you’re going - if its anything like the TGV to or from Paris they always seem to say its booked out 48 hours before it leaves. So, as the way is made across all borders there’s been a chance to dust off the next language of choice, maybe even friendships made and the nights’ accommodation sorted and in-hand. Saving money by going tomorrow as some may say - how can you measure the cost of opportunity lost? And if there’s next to no money already, standing still is costly enough.

MT @ 5 4 DRNK W M8S - solved, once there, traveling light, in comes the answer, and just by chance, it’s a drink at the pub with mates. No worries. Like there ever was any, eh?

--Jack Brown

Uluru from a helicopter, Ayers Rock

The iconic Australian Outback - kangaroos, the Red Centre, akubra’s, four-wheel drives, Ayers Rock (Uluru). I always thought that it was something I would do when I “had more time”. But whether it’s 2 or 3 days out of your trip to Australia, or a long weekend from Sydney for me, this is an exhilarating side trip which can be squeezed into any holiday.

Uluru is a stunning natural wonder, a World Heritage-listed site with strong cultural and spiritual significance. It is both physically and metaphorically the center of Australia. It is a 348m high, 10 km circumference, bright red sandstone rock - that is one really big rock! The rock has a high iron content, which means it rusts , which is why Uluru, Kata Tjuta and the sandy earth all around is really red - and also why it is known throughout Australia as the Red Center.

Now let’s get one question out of the way first - is it Ayers Rock or is it Uluru? Ayers Rock is the name of the tourist village located just outside the national park, where everyone stays. It is also the name that was given to the rock in 1873 and which lasted for a bit more than 100 years. In 1985, ownership of the Uluru area was restored to the local Anangu people, and the rock reverted to the name it had had for at least 10,000 years: Uluru.

Top 10 Things to Do in Ayers Rock

Here are my favorite things to do while staying in Ayers Rock:

1. Sunrise walk around Uluru - this is a double hitter, Uluru turns its brightest and deepest reds at sunrise and sunset, seeing that happening up close while walking the 10 km track around the base, hearing the stories and seeing sacred sites, canyons, watering holes and rock art, is magical. The picnic breakfast along the way was pretty good too. And don’t be scared of doing this one, it’s an absolutely flat walk, I did it with other visitors aged from 5 to 70+, who all had no problem. If you really don’t fancy that, you can still get the highlights on a bus tour with short guided walks to rock art and waterholes.

Sounds of Silence Dinner, Ayers Rock

2. Sounds of Silence dinner - champagne and canapés on top of a dune watching the sun set over both Uluru and Kata Tjuta, followed by a beautiful candlelit dinner served under the stars, haunting Didgeridoo live performance, a guided tour of the night sky above us and the chance to view through telescopes (I saw Saturn’s rings!), while making new friends at convivial tables of eight.
3. Kata Tjuta (the Olga’s). Meaning “many heads”. Kata Tjuta is what you would get if you broke Uluru into 38 pieces (which is a very loose translation of how it was formed around the same time that Uluru was formed!) Also a beautiful red, there are lookouts where you can view Kata Tjuta from different angles, and a lovely walk up through Walpa Gorge. Also a popular sunrise and sunset watching spot.

4. Mt Connor Outback Safari Tour - Mt Connor is the unknown “other” rock - about 80km east of Uluru, it is the same height, twice the circumference, shaped like a “table top” mountain, older than Uluru, and red, but not as red. It’s not well known as it is part of a huge private property, the Curtain Springs cattle station, which you explore by four wheel drive to experience a salt lake, kangaroos, camels, and the outback landscape, finished off with a home cooked homestead dinner.

5. Helicopter flight over Uluru and Kata Tjuta - 30 minutes of the best view in the house, to see these monoliths from every angle and also see them in the scale of the vast surrounding desert. And the excitement of a helicopter ride at the same time.

6. Night Sky show at Ayers Rock observatory - unless you live in rural Africa (or outback Australia), you have probably never seen the stars in the night sky as clearly as this. Entertaining and enjoyable.

7. Aboriginal tours, at different times of the day around Uluru, an aboriginal guide will take you on a walking tour, allow you to share their culture, explaining how they see the landscape of Uluru and teaching you bush skills, and telling you of their ‘Tjukurpa’ or Dreamtime.

Mt Connor, on an Outback safari

8. Aboriginal Dot Painting Workshop - bring out the inner artist in yourself, while learning of the cultural significance of this style.

9. if you have the extra time, take a 2 day tour to Kings Canyon and Alice Springs as well as exploring Uluru.

10. And this is where I get back to my opening idea of seeing the Red Centre in 2 to 3 days - use the 24 hour or 48 hour Uluru Eco-Pass plus Sounds of Silence Dinner. If you use the 24-hour pass, and you are short on time, you can literally do it in a weekend - fly in Saturday morning, do No. 3 Kata Tjuta in the afternoon, No. 2 Sounds of Silence Dinner in the evening, No 1 Uluru sunrise walk on Sunday morning, and fly back to the East Coast Sunday afternoon.

I did the 48 hour pass, which meant I did the above, and then No. 4 the Mt Connor Safari on Sunday afternoon, and still had time to fit in No 5, the helicopter flight on Monday morning (this was a separate booking, not part of the 48 hour eco-pass) before heading home Monday afternoon.

That might sound a little rushed but it wasn’t, the pace was gentle and I felt I had plenty of time to experience each activity (although it didn’t leave a whole lot of time for sleeping). And if you have more time, you can split the activities on the pass over more days if you want to.

* * * * *

One final thing, you may have noticed I haven’t listed climbing Uluru as one of my suggestions of things to do. When the park was handed back to the local aboriginal owners in 1985, about 90% of all visitors to Uluru would climb the rock. The government was concerned that if this was stopped, the park wouldn’t receive enough income from tourists to pay the costs of running and maintaining the national park.

Therefore as a part of the agreement to hand back the land, the government included a condition that the rock climb must be allowed to continue until such time as less than 20% of all visitors are climbing it. Already less than 30% of visitors now climb it. There is hope that within the next 5 years the numbers will drop below 20% and the Traditional Owners will be able to close the climb.

What visitors call the climb is the traditional route taken by ancestral Mala men upon their arrival at Uluru. It has great spiritual significance to the traditional owners, and they would prefer that, as a guest on Anangu land, you will choose to respect their law and culture by not climbing. Or as Kinmanara, a Traditional Owner, expresses it: “That’s a really important sacred thing that you are climbing…You shouldn’t climb. it’s not the real thing about this place. The real thing is listening to everything. And maybe that makes you a bit sad. But anyway that’s what we have to say.”

So as the Anangu say: “listen to what we say, then make up your own mind”.

–Vicki Potts

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours to Ayers Rock (Uluru), from outdoor activities at Ayers Rock to Ayers Rock helicopter tours.

Traveling further afield from Amsterdam? You can try the well-known tourist destinations in Belgium like Bruges and Ghent, or Antwerp and Brussels. Yet there are several options for quicker day trips within the Netherlands, whether your tastes lean towards modern urbanism or pastoral tulip fields.

Amsterdam Day Trips: Rotterdam

Cube houses in Rotterdam

Rotterdam, less than 90 minutes by train from Amsterdam, is the largest port in Europe. The massive waterfront is worth a look, and boat tours are available (9.25 Euro for adults from the company Spido). The strategic harbor made the city a target of World War II bombing campaigns, thus nearly completely destroying the city center. What resulted was Rotterdam’s famous modern and experimental architecture on a scale not found in other major Dutch cities (or anywhere else for that matter).

The innovative 2,600-foot Erasmus Bridge, nicknamed ‘The Swan’, links the northern and southern sides of the city. The Cube Houses, are nearly impossible to describe (think a normal building tilted 45 degrees), but a definite must see in the city center. The quirky Kunsthal (translates as ‘art hall’) combines rotating exhibits of art, photography and fashion in a building designed by renowned Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas. The Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen (art, including Brueghel, Magritte and Dali) and Netherlands Architecture Institute are both located on the Museumpark, and are notable.

Located elsewhere are the Maritime Museum and Wereldmuseum (ethnographic art from throughout the world), they are also recommended. Rotterdam is thoroughly diverse with immigrants flowing from former Dutch colonies in Suriname and Indonesia, as well as émigrés from Morocco and Turkey. In January the city hosts the International Film Festival Rotterdam, and in July the North Sea Jazz Festival.

Amsterdam Day Trips: Utrecht

Utrecht, the Netherlands’ fourth-largest city and home to its largest university, is about 30 minutes by train from Amsterdam Centraal Station. It is also historically a Dutch religious center. The Dom Tower is a 368-foot church tower in the city center, from the top of which Amsterdam is visible on a clear day. A 17th-century storm destroyed part of the church while still under construction, and now the tower stands separated from the rest of the church. The city center alternates between medieval grandeur and a sort-of outdoor shopping mall.

Notable are the recessed cafes and restaurants that line canals (especially the Oudegracht) with the street level above. This is unique from canals in Amsterdam, which sit below the streetscape without the lower platforms lining their banks. There are several museums in Utrecht, but try to time a visit with the frequently free (or cheap) cultural happenings sponsored by the city, usually on Sundays. The Rietvald Schroder House is dates from 1924 and represents the De Stijl movement of art and architecture. It now houses a museum and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Visits to the house are possible Thursday through Sunday, reservations are recommended, and shuttles run from Utrecht’s Centraal Museum.

Amsterdam Day Trips: The Hague

The Hague (or in Dutch, Den Haag) is about one hour by train from Amsterdam. It feels different than either Amsterdam or Utrecht, notably because of its few canals, wider streets and more open layout. It is the permanent home of both the International Criminal Court (ICC, which prosecutes individuals accused of war crimes for example) and the International Court of Justice (ICJ, which settles disputes between United Nations member states), and the location of Dutch parliament. Both courts are available for visits.

The ICJ is housed in the Peace Palace, built in the early 20th century with financing provided by Andrew Carnegie. In the ICC’s modern building one can watch a war crimes trial from a viewing box. Queen Beatrix resides in the Paleis Huis ten Bosch in a forest just outside the city. All international embassies are in The Hague, giving the city an orderly, diplomatic and bureaucratic feel. The city is home to the M.C. Escher Museum, displaying the labors of the well known graphic artist whose twisted and thought-provoking works are frequently featured in dorm-room posters the world over (7.50 Euro admission for adults).

Amsterdam Day Trips: A taste of the countryside

Cycling is the Dutch way to travel and the simplest excursion is to rent a bike, take the train 15 minutes west to Haarlem and then cycle through town, eventually meandering into the country side. Just west of Haarlem is Zuid-Kennemerland National Park, about 15 square miles of forest, dunes and beach. Biking around the country inevitably brings you into small rural villages which can be a treat in their own right.

Amsterdam Day Trips: Keukenhof Tulip Gardens

Tulips in Spring

In the spring, the tulip fields west of Amsterdam are a must see. Keukenhof, near the town of Lisse, is the largest flower garden in the world. It is literally a massive park (run by the Dutch flower industry with an industrial sized admissions charge, but impressive enough) that is open to the public only from the end of March through mid-May.

Buses travel to the site from nearby towns of Haarlem and Leiden, which are accessed by train from Amsterdam. Freelance touring of tulip fields on bike is also an option. In fact a ride through the country side anywhere between the cities of Haarlem and Leiden should bring you into a colorful palette of flowers. Stripes of tulips in all colors give the fields a surreal feeling. Again, the flowers only bloom seasonally, so spring is the best/only time to visit.

The same region in the summer is beach territory. In fact the area encompassing the tulip fields and coastline is colloquially called Duin en Bollenststreek (the Dune and Bulb Region). Large sand dunes and beaches run along the entirety of the coast. The best known resort area is Noordwijk aan Zee. Take a train from Amsterdam to Leiden or Voorhout for an easy connection.

Amsterdam Day Trips: Windmills

And if it is windmills you seek look no further than Zaanse Schans, about 20 minutes by train from Amsterdam. The area is something of an outdoor museum, with old homes, shops and most importantly, traditional windmills. The first Albert Heign is here (a Dutch supermarket chain, this landmark would be comparable to say the first McDonald’s or Hershey factory, but Dutch-ified).

–Benjamin Cunningham

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s Amsterdam tours & things to do, from Amsterdam day trips to canal cruises.

Try this with your friends: say the name of a city they’ve been to and most likely they’ll come up with a one-word, sensory delight that sums the place up for them. For example, Lisbon – ‘oh, the fish; Munich – ‘ah, the beer’; Paris – ‘ooh, the croissants’. Well here are a few of my own favourites, in no particular order as television judges say. These are things that make me get dreamy eyed at the mere mention of that place’s name. And yes, they are all food-related, so… what of it?

What I love about Nice, France

Fenocchio, ice cream to die for in Nice

Ice cream. Not the first thing I expected to find when I recently went to the south of France. And yes, the views are nice, the water really is very blue, the people are stylish, the city is pretty, there is art everywhere and so on and so on. But the real jewel we uncovered was Fenocchio, an ice cream place.

We found two branches in the old town, one quite close to our apartment (luckily or unluckily, depending whether you side with saving shoe leather or calories: we would have walked a fair distance for this ice cream, I assure you). There were about 90 flavours, seriously. My first night I had a scoop of violet and one of jasmine. Yes, I ate flower flavoured, purple food. And wow!

After that we began referring to each day as either a one scoop or two scoop day, depending on how far we had walked so how much we thought we deserved. Most days, strangely, we deserved two scoops. In five days we worked our way through fig, cinnamon, chocolate peppermint, ginger, rose, lemon meringue… I have to stop before I book another trip to Nice. (One word of warning: avoid the crepes at Fennocio, definitely not their specialty.)

What I love about Salzburg, Austria

Sachertorte. This world-famous chocolate cake was developed in Vienna in 1832 by the second-year apprentice chef Franz Sacher. He worked in the court kitchens of Prince Metternich and on the day of an important dinner the head chef was ill, so Sacher whipped up the first Sachertorte. In 1876, his son Eduard began the first Hotel Sacher and registered a trademark on the Sachertorte.

The author, researching a piece of dessert

I visited Salzburg to indulge a childhood whim to be a von Trapp for a day and stumbled over the Hotel Sacher almost by accident: it had a nice terrace overlooking the river, the old town, and, oh, a bridge made famous in The Sound of Music. On the table was a history of the Sachertorte so we thought we’d best try it. Sublime! Truly amazing.

Even if you’re not a complete chocoholic. And the tea they served, simply named Sacher Tea, was also great. A combination of bergamot (earl grey), jasmine and black tea, it had me heading round to the hotel’s shop to buy a tin. Apart from the tea, the shop sold cake. Lots and lots of Sachertorte, shipping it all over the world.

When I was in there a girl was having a whole cake sent home to her family in the USA; that’s how good it is! I toyed with sending a couple of pieces to my chocolate addicted sister-in-law but really couldn’t afford it. I did send her a photo of the piece I ate though.

What I love about Istanbul, Turkey

Lokum (a.k.a. Turkish Delight). I know it sounds really obvious. But Turkish Delight made properly is a completely different taste sensation to the overly sweet and cloying stuff I grew up with. I dragged my feet a little when my travel companion, Steven, wanted to find the original Turkish Delight shop opened in 1777 by Haci Bekir (on Hamidiye Caddesi, near the Egyptian Spice Market) but I gave in, I mean he had just made a full-day trip to Gallipoli with me (9 hours in the car), and the map assured us this shop was only two blocks away. Although two blocks in Istanbul can still be quite an adventure – the traffic!

We found the shop quite easily and it was a delight. The men in there gave us some samples to try and, more from a lack of language and inbuilt politeness than genuine desire, I stuck an apple-flavoured square in my mouth. Oh my! The taste sensation. It tasted like apples! Really! I bought a box. And the rose! Wow! Flavours derived from the real natural article – apples, rose petals etc – it can’t be beaten. Why have we put up with artificial flavouring for so long? Evil incarnate. Anyway, we ended up with about four boxes of Turkish Delight in our luggage and it’s not light. But I would almost have ditched a pair of shoes for it. Almost.

What I love about Amsterdam, the Netherlands

Apple Cake. High tinned, full of apple and cinnamon, thin cakey crust, served with lashings of cream – divine! And the best one is at the Noordermarkt on Prinsengracht. You can go there during the week and sit outside in summer or at a communal table inside during winter.

But the time all the Amsterdammers go is Saturday morning when the Noordermarkt is full of stalls selling organic food. It’s not a huge market but it is quality through and through and the place to be. The queue outside the café with the apple cake makes it easy to find, as do all the people with slices of apple cake in various stages of demolition. Do not eat breakfast: the slices are generous. And do not dare to order anything else but apple cake and a drink – the demand is so high, there are presliced apple cakes covering the counter and the staff run to keep up with the demand. Oh, and it’s counter-service, no table service at this time of day so join the queue. Then hop on your bike to ride off the excess you just gained – although with that much apple involved, can it really be bad for you?

What I love about Venice, Italy

Hot chocolate. Yes, hot chocolate is available around the world and many countries stake a claim to it: Holland, Belgium, Switzerland. But No! Italy wins my vote. This hot chocolate is so thick, the spoon stands up in it, really!

The first one I had was in Calle Rasse, a small backstreet behind San Marco; a rainy day, the acqua alta threatening our ankles, we took refuge in one of those narrow sandwich bars the Italians do so well. We had no idea that life was about to change. But it did.

I have been back to this place every visit since and the quality is maintained. I have cheated on this, my first hot chocolate love, by dating a couple of others in Piazza San Marco itself but have only been disappointed. Once I tried the Caffe Florian. They’ve been making hot chocolate since 1720 so they should have it down to a fine art. And if it wasn’t for the Calle Rasse experience, I probably would have been impressed. Then I tried crossing the square to Quadri, but it was a similar experience. And eating or drinking anything on the Piazza San Marco is going to be a costly exercise: we’re talking a 10 euro hot chocolate as opposed to 4 euros in Calle Rasse. Besides, can anything really match the perfection of your first love?

What I love about London, England

High tea at The Ritz Hotel. Elegant, calm in the midst of crazy London dirt and traffic. Established as a tradition during the Victorian era, high tea in London is not cheap but then you won’t need dinner afterwards so it’s totally practical: an elegant room, pages of tea choices, and three tiered towers of delicate sandwiches, scones with cream and jam, and little cakes – yum.

There are other high teas in London but the Ritz has the history; it’s also the only one I’ve been to so I can’t bear witness to any others. (Editor’s note: also try high tea at the Grosvenor House.) And the Ritz on Piccadilly is just one of those must-have London experiences. High tea is served in the elegant Palm Court which is all columns and chandeliers and has a dress code that bans jeans and trainers; it really feels like London as it once was – or still is if you have money, a title or are Madonna. You do need to book well ahead if possible – they recommend six weeks - unless of course you are moneyed, titled or Madonna.

A couple of quickies to finish with: In Prague have a Budweiser beer – a completely different flavour to the Bud in the rest of the world. In Bratislava try Becherovka, a kind of herb-based liquor. Delicious but can prove potent. You were warned. In Zagreb try the Paprenjak, pepper flavoured biscuits. Sublime. Also the Bajadera chocolates made by local company Kras. Mmmm. And finally, a second bite at Istanbul: Fish in bread with onions, served directly from boats tied to the dock just under the Galata Bridge. Locals everywhere squatting on low, no frills plastic chairs. Cheap, delicious, authentic. Do it.

–Philippa Burne

The Disillusioned Dubliner isn’t usually one for giving romantic advice, but here’s a pearl of wisdom for all you lonely hearts out there: Get yourself a lover from somewhere else.

Katie Lincoln comes from a small fishing village (I know every village says that, but you can take my word for it, people fish there) called Ardmore on the south coast of County Waterford, not far from the Cork border. It’s not a place that features in most travel books. In fact the Fodor’s Ireland book I co-write actually excluded it all together - a fact I’m about to remedy. But as far as the DD is concerned Ardmore is a little gem.

West Gable of St Declan’s Cathedral, Ardmore

The DD looks three key things about any ‘tourist’ (why am I so reluctant to be associated with that word? It’s not a disease?) place he visits.

1. Openness: I like places that you can roam around at your leisure that allow unmonitored access to their sights.
2. Freeness: I don’t like the idea of paying for something that is either a natural or a public treasure. Or maybe I just don’t like to pay for anything.
3. Emptiness. I like a place that’s not too busy. I might be a ‘tourist’ but I don’t need to be bumping into too many more of the damned critters.
4. Guinness: There better be a good place to get a pint.

Ardmore is four for four.

Declan to Kevin: I was here first

Glendalough, the 6th century monastic settlement in the Wicklow Mountains, is one of the most popular visitor attractions in Ireland. They have a visitor centre (with a small charge) and lines of eager pilgrims waiting to see the sights.

One hundred years before Saint Kevin first had his notion to run off to the wilds of Glendalough, the intrepid Saint Declan established the oldest Christian settlement in Ireland in - you’ve guessed it - Ardmore, where he lived in the period 350-450 AD (yes, he even beat Saint Patrick to the punch). I can safely say very few Irish people know this fact, and so the pilgrims are shockingly few that visit such wonders as Declan’s original Holy Well; the 8th-century Oratory located in the ancient graveyard; the beautifully proportioned 12th-century round tower; and, most spectacular of all, the mysteri