Viator Travel Blog

Did you notice the Competitours ad on our blog? We don’t normally carry ads on the blog, but in this case we’re making an exception because (yes this is a pop quiz): (a) we at Viator like what they do (b) we’ve decided to provide their contestants with trip planning and tour advice (c) they’re [...]

When you think of all the great sports stars Germany has to offer – Michael Schumacher, Katarina Witt, er, Boris Becker, and Steffi Graf – one is imbued with a sense of grace, power and athleticism uncommon in the everyday punter. But does one ever consider Timo Boll? “Who!?” I hear you cry. The current top-ranked German champion of the Small White One, Timo has dedicated his life to the mastery of the art of ping pong since the age of 8.

I call Lisbon my impossible love. While I adore the city’s low-key energy, the bittersweet saudade sentiment that echoes through the zigzag of its hilltop streetscapes, I know it’s a love that can’t be sustained. Perhaps because Portugal’s poignantly pretty capital still has the provincial feel of a backwater town. Perhaps because the slow mentality gets to a fast-paced New Yorker like me after a while. Perhaps because I need a place more frantic, diverse, open-minded… But none of that stops me from loving Lisbon

Arthur Guinness, he was one smart fella. Here’s what I know: Your man walks into a Dublin real estate office in 1759 (pre-global mortgage meltdown). He’s thirsty. He’s thirsty for something in the very way that John T. Coke and Thomas Daiquiri and Jane Champagne and Abraham L’Emonaide were once thirsty, years before their eponymous fame.

So Arthur Guinness walks into the agent’s office and says, “I have a dream. I dream of flaked barley and roasted barley coming together in a stout silky brew. This dream I call it – a pint of Guinness. Pour on, ye black pint.” Then he promptly signs a 9,000-year lease on the St. James’s Gate brewery in Dublin.

Along the highway in Arkansas, a bright pink billboard for Graceland got my heart a-thumpin’ for Memphis, and even though Timmy was driving, I pushed the eject button right in the middle of “Truckin’” and popped in Chuck Berry’s “Memphis, Tennessee.” Such a sad and beautiful song. Timmy cursed a blue streak all the way across the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge, and seeing we still had half a tank of gas, pronounced he was good for another 200 miles. We didn’t stop until we were halfway through Mississippi. That was my first, tragically short glimpse of Memphis. I hopped off Timmy’s bus in New Orleans and that was the last I saw of him.

First off, the awe-inspiring Uluru–Kata Tjuta National Park is immense. Not Kakadu big, but big enough so that you need to plan your visit to the Red Centre with precision as some activities and sights are best at dawn, others at sunset, and certain things should not be done in the middle of the day – and there is plenty to do. This three-day itinerary covers all you need to best plan a visit to Uluru (also known as Ayers Rock). Uluru is not only a UNESCO World Heritage site, it’s also Australia’s most visited tourist attraction.

The small town of Regensburg in southern Germany was a revelation. We docked there at sunset, next to a butcher selling the region’s famous wurst, then strolled through the winding narrow streets to the magnificent cathedral, which is apparently the prime example of Gothic architecture in southern Germany. We could only admire the exterior, as we stopped for a late-afternoon ice cream across the square, and watched as the last visitors straggled out and the door slammed shut.

For time-poor visitors to Australia’s ‘Red Centre’, Alice Springs is merely a sleepover before visiting that big red rock in the centre of Australia. However ‘The Alice’, as it’s known, offers far more than lodgings for the night. For starters it’s the best place in Australia to buy Aboriginal art from the Central and Western Desert, with excellent galleries all within walking distance of each other. There’s also an engaging wildlife park, excellent day trips, and plenty of quirky events on offer as well.

So if you were a bit of a mug, or a romantic – which is the same thing in some people’s books (not mine, but that’s another bloody story, so mind your business) – a boat is one of those things that you’d use to get between places girt by sea, as our Australian national anthem curiously phrases it. Now, if you were in a hurry then a boat to Greece might not cut it so – as they’ve got lots of ports to weather in all their personal stormy-things.

It is New Year’s eve, a warm balmy evening. I’m at the farm with friends and family, there’s a pig roasting succulently on a spit, and the CD player is controlled by the teenagers. A friend of the family is drunkenly playing a guitar surprisingly well in the corner. But this is not my family, [...]