Europe

Berlin, London, Paris, Rome, Mudgee, Como… I’ve been everywhere, man – from the city to the sea – and, well, its just not working for me now. I reckon I must be over it. Not like a whinging tourist in a queue for something they don’t really want to see, or a pouting child that could only be happy with more ice cream, nor even that “ennui” that the French do so well, but, y’know, that’s it.

Full. Enough. Genug.

Don’t worry, no straws on camels backs here ‘cos I’ve at least got the good sense to get going while the going’s good, but I reckon that I couldn’t look at another Basilica, thrall at another platz or swoon in the presence of man-made greatness again for, oh, at least a week.

I’m thinking I’ve come down with what the travel doctor might call the Hauptstadt Blues.

A case of the blues

Repeat with Jack: Tomorrow, tomorrow… the sun will come out tomorrow…

Capital cities are swell and all, everything is there, everyone knows it and you need want for nothing – but there comes a time in a man’s life when a bit of peace and solidity is what makes for the bedrock of sanity. It’s happened before: I hit the road years before and headed outback, found it all and then came back. It’s not like the world is a better or worse place for it all, it’s really only this capital city thing that’s got me. “You’ve got to go to this”, “you’ve got to see that” – mind you things like that are not always just in the Capitals, but after a while it’s that attitude, like a pigeon’s chest puffed with pride at what such a great city it is, what its become, that ultimately cruels it for me. I reckon its time for a bit of back-to-basics grit-and-dirt reality, but this time Euro-style. When you’re over the city, hit the country!

The cure? Get a rail pass & get random

You might be able to traverse a smattering of stretched out locations on the wheels of steel in the outback, but over here? Crikey, a man is spoilt for choice! First up, arm yourself – get a rail pass. Nice as it is, after a couple of trips on the train you might feel that the ticket inspector just needs a parrot on his shoulder in some places the way they charge for the tickets – and who can be bothered booking ahead for the specials all the time? Grab a Eurail pass – they come in a range of colours and sizes, from travel everyday to a selection of days in a number of months (like 8 days out of 2 months for instance). You can go global or choose a couple of countries (1, 3 or 5 perhaps).

And now you’re all planned-up - get random! Grab a rucksack and head for the door – the world’s your oyster and feel free to add a little tang and down it in one gulp. Like an eternal return to a place that was once better, with a fire in your belly and an eye to the road, now’s the time to live life extra-large!

Make sudden decisions. With bag on your back, maybe some cheese and bread for the journey and head to the Gare Le Central to hit the tracks on the first train that takes your fancy. The pass lets you travel all day so why not make the most of it? Forget the book/DVD/laptop/iPod, use nature’s TV and get a prime window seat for a rolling afternoon of country, dales and meadows, with the odd rivulet or meandering stream thrown in.

Say, for instance, it was breakfast in Basel: you could be in Zurich before your morning coffee (1 hour) or Liege for a late brunch (5-6 hours). Apertivo in Bologna (5 hours), or just a day on the tracks. Join the dots, get random and jump trains till you hit that relaxed feeling that comes only from the world slipping quietly by and the steady rhythm of the train playing the soundtrack to worldly satisfaction.

Parsley voop fronglay silver plate?

One thing that will make you welcome anywhere and make your life a lot easier is a few words in the right direction. You probably speak English (if you’ve made it this far down the page chances are “Oui”) and in the capital cities they’re usually falling over themselves to be all international and practice their English on you. A nice smile can charm your way into many places, but there’s nothing quite like pulling out a little local lingo to really get you to the right locale.

Learn to count to 10, say please and thank you and maybe even “where is” and listen for “left” and “right” in the answer , then you’re instantly on the road to international success. In just one day you could head out of Belgium (French and Flemish), duck through Luxembourg (German and, um, Luxembourgian?), sache through France (no guesses there) and through to Switzerland (French, Schweizer Deutsche and Italian). Smoothing the seams of transit with a little linguistic gymnastics and you could be making life a lot easier for yourself and your new best friends as you aimlessly trek into the hearts of new towns far and wide.

Rural bliss anyone?

Belgium is an ideal example to demonstrate the potential for an escape from the rat-race. Jump that train in the north (Antwerp, Brussels, Gent) and head south for the nearest border. Reel in your seat as the landscape slowly relents to grassy greens and open spaces once again. Feel the stress of the city and those Hauptstadt Blues melt away as space is once again the place. Between the lovely towns of Namur and Jemelle, for instance, you can believe you’re lost somewhere in a forgotten rural paradise as horizon-wide meadows, sweeping valleys, lush glades and wistful streams beckon gaily from your window-side watch.

Why not head out across the eternal golf-course that is Spain? Where what was once trees, which now all sit as ancient boats beneath seas far and wide, there lies sweeping green plains running aside the endless iron-horse of your speeding passage. Wind your way along countryside cliffs to coastal towns and villages where the fruits of the sea call freshly to tables far from the hoi-polloi of capital city trends. Get out amongst it, beat those blues, get out of town and get out of the grind and soon you’ll see that the truth really is Out There!

–Jack Brown

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

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

Berlin Underground: Going Down

Going underground, stepping back in time

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

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

The Berlin Underground tour office

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

What does one eat, living in a bunker?

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

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

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

Not all the walls came down in 1989

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

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

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

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

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

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

Birth of the Berlin Underworld

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

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

–Jodi Rose

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

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

Sunday morning, New York City, D Train

Get on the bus

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

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

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

San Francisco, USA: 33 Stanyan bus

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

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

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

Melbourne, Australia: 96 tram

Melbourne, view from a tram window

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

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

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

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

Prague, Czech Republic: 22 tram

Trams in Prague

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

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

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

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

My public transit wishlist

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

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

–Jane Rawson

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

Why do we travel?

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

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

Not wealthy, just optimistic

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

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

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

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

This is old, it must be special

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

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

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

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

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

Let’s get lost

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

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

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

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

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

Ignorance is possibility

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

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

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

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

–Philippa Burne

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

The Duomo in Florence

Day 1: The Art of Florence

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

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

The leaning tower of Pisa

Day 2: Pisa & Piazzas

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

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

The hills of Tuscany

Day 3: Food & Fashion

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

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

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

-Rowan M

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

Reason to Love Paris #1: Canal Saint Martin

Overlooking the Canal St Martin, Paris

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

Reason to Love Paris #2: Point Éphémerè

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

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

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

Reason to Love Paris #4: Palais de Tokyo

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

Reason to Love Paris #5: Némo Festival

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

Reason to Love Paris #6: La Bellevilloise

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

Reason to Love Paris #7: Peripherique, and Beyond

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

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

Reason to Love Paris #8: Sèvres

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

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

Reason to Love Paris #9: The Whale of Versailles

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

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

Damien Hearst ties: Only 37 euros each, one or two?

Paris’ largest flea market is at Porte de Clignancourt (officially known as Puces de Saint Ouen). This is the one to head to for antiques and more valuable second-hand goods. It’s open weekends and Mondays and is popular with international visitors. Less frequented is the cellar trash piled up on stands at Porte de Montreuil, so of course I headed straight for this one. A mix of new imported junk that you can find in most cheap markets anywhere in the world, the real treasure was the piles of clothes and accessories priced at 1-2-3 euros each. Dig through a few of these and you are bound to find some hardly worn designer gear. It’s a fun way to spend the afternoon, and as recycled clothing is starting to make an impact on the sustainability landscape, since the resources required to produce new clothes are a phenomenal drain on our natural and human ecology.

Two of my favourite food markets are also in Paris, on Fridays the Blvd Richard Lenoir is packed with fresh produce stalls. The stallholders love to flirt, calling out oolala at the drop of a beret, I love that French joi de vivre. I randomly stumbled across the Wednesday market at Iena, on my way to the Palais des Tokyo, and was again tempted by the sumptuous array of treats — and I found a fantastic bargain on stylish bowling bags from the man at the top of the stalls.

Packing all my prizes into this, I was able to leave Paris with a rediscovered sense of joy, memories of some amazing art and music, and a great new wardrobe.

–Jodi Rose

If you’re planning a trip to Paris, be sure to browse Viator’s list of Paris tours and things to do.

The cities I fall spontaneously in love with have one thing in common. They all have a sense of possibility, which you can feel seeping up through the streets and out into the air from the back alleys. While they may open to your curiosity at first embrace, they also keep some things secret. Their essence is understood through experiences and connections that unfold over time. You need time to feel intimate with a city, like it gets you and you get it.

There is also a tendency for each of them to give me a surprise kick in the teeth, which shocks me out of my complacency and hurtles me into a new escapade. These misadventures can be traumatic at the time, but they are part of what keep us moving, the way that an accident turns into an anecdote, and the unexpected twists and turns along the road make it all the more intriguing.

How I love thee, Glasgow

Words to live by, from Glasgow

Glasgow seemed like it was already familiar, something like a future deja-vu. I had my passport stolen in Glasgow, along with the rest of my wallet and everything in it, but somehow even that wasn’t enough to make me dislike the place. It sent me off on an unexpected trip to Edinburgh, which is a far prettier town, with its quaint cobbled streets and deeply cultured air, but somehow I never got over that first encounter with Glasgow.

Edinburgh is incredibly beautiful, perched up there on the hill with picturesque old town shops and the glowering castle, but somehow it leaves me cold. I find the warmth and grit of urban, working- class Glasgow infinitely more attractive. It has a vibrant contemporary art and music scene, the cultural landscape offers endless possibilities for connection, making friendships and creative networks.

I ♥ New York

I remember being intoxicated by the city the first time I flew into New York. It started at least 20 minutes before landing, and I hit the streets of Manhattan at fever pitch. It was 1989 and the city was frizzling, I wish I had never left, I wish I had a time machine to go back to that moment and make myself stay.

One night on that first trip to New York, I sit on the fire escape of the Carlton Arms hotel, watching the drama of the street play out between a couple who alternately scream at each other and a hapless taxi driver. There is romance and tension in the air in equal measure. A penniless actor – Drew, from Melbourne, where are you now? – had invited me there that night to see the room that his painter friend, Mark, was decorating with a mural in lieu of rent.

Lady Liberty, role model

They asked me to live with them, ‘he needs someone like you’, said Mark. And Drew told me, ‘you’re on a spiritual journey, that’s the most important thing,’ and then gave me Visions of Cody by Jack Kerouac and kissed me sweetly on the lips.

But I had other plans: a ride on the Concorde, a trip to Turkey and Greece, cruising from Rhodes to Marmaris with my uncle (who was the boat’s mechanic). Still, I longed for New York all that time, and tried to find the itinerant friends I had made there, but this was long before they days of email or social networking sites, and they had moved on, untraceable.

I was young then, and didn’t realize that when you feel the urge to linger somewhere, and have the time and resources to do so, it’s best to give in and stay. The time it takes you to get back there, and the speed at which everything in the world changes, mean that you can never recapture the life that might have unfolded, if you had taken that chance. The past, as they say, is another country.

We’ll always have Helsinki

Hyvaa matkaa is ‘good journey’

Helsinki just felt special, and after a whirlwind trip through the archipelago to Stockholm, taking part in a festival at Kiasma and Suomenlinna island, and spending a week at the railway station in the name of art, we developed a bond that I still cherish. In fact Helsinki gave me joy immediately: Taking the 3 euro aerobus in from the airport to be met by new friends, who showed me the bridge I was looking for, and took me out to the sauna and seahorse restaurant. When I returned for a festival a few years later, it was a fortnight of chaos and mayhem, all good fun until I sprained my ankle going down the steep stairs to get on stage at Club Gloria, and spent the rest of the evening with my foot on ice, dancing in my chair.

Still, this sudden impact with the ground, in contrast to all the hyperactivity, seems to draw me back there, time and time again.

Berlin, Ich Liebe Dich

Berlin has the potential for magic every time you step out of your apartment, there the sense that another adventure awaits, if you give yourself up to her embrace.

Shopping for New Life in Berlin

The first time I am in Berlin, a friend takes me to see the May Day riots, which seems like a good idea at the time. In the event I am terrified by the punks, anarchists and skinheads throwing rocks at each other and the police, and we leave fairly quickly. (These days the first of May is more of a cultural festival and celebration, with street parties and community gatherings, making it a far friendlier occasion.)

Cycling down the hill from Kastanienallee, on that first day, the brakes on my borrowed bicycle fail, I throw myself to the ground in order to avoid hurtling into the oncoming traffic at Rosenthaler Platz. I feel like there is some strange cosmic force at work that symbolically grounds my restless wandering spirit, and keeps me coming back to Berlin over the years, until I eventually end up settling here. The accidents that change your life may happen spontaneously, or take longer to become evident, but you will feel their effects, sooner or later.

The emotional essence of a city can soak into your soul, something that charms you, unexpected, fascinating, makes all the difference. I want to love Barcelona, and by all expectations I should, it’s a city that suits me perfectly in theory, but in practice I find the place doesn’t take, and remain stubbornly attached to Berlin. It is there that I feel at home, even though it drives me crazy some days, and everything changes so quickly you can barely keep up. The city has a place for me, it feels like we will be together for a long time.

These are things you just can’t know until you have been there, and experienced the way the city wraps around you with the daily rhythms of life, to follow your own impulses and curiosity down unfamiliar paths and strange streets. Just keep your passport close, and try to stay clear of the cobblestones.

–Jodi Rose

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s New York City Tours, things to do in Glasgow, Berlin tours, and things to do in Helsinki.

Ladies, if you ever need your mood lifted, go to Rome.

It’s very difficult for a woman to walk down the street there without being greeted with ‘Ciao, bella’ or ‘Buongiorno, beautiful lady.’ Very good for the ego. And definitely not pick-up lines but just part of the joy of life embraced by Italians. My theory is that all that pasta, wine and sugary cake makes them feel so happy they want to share the joy. Well, bring it on I say.

Trevi Fountain, Rome

Rome: Getting situated

I recently went to Rome for the third time and the geography of the city fell into place for me. If you have the luxury of returning to places, it seems to me that the third visit is key. The first visit, I’m a bit overwhelmed by new sights and sounds and smells. On the second I fill in the blanks, things I’ve heard about since my first visit, places I missed, venturing a bit further afield. But on this third visit to Rome, I suddenly realised where the Colosseum is in relation to the Pantheon, how to walk from the Trevi Fountain to the river without slavishly consulting a map, and braved buses and trams.

We flew cheaply from London and landed at the secondary, smaller airport, Ciampino. I’d always come in via Fiumicino, which has a train straight to the central station, Termini. But Ciampino was just as easy – and cheap – to get in from. A shuttle bus to the Metro A line which goes straight through central Rome (you can also book a private Ciampino airport transfer over on the main Viator site). There are only two Metro lines so it’s pretty easy to negotiate. I just wish I spoke Italian because the carry-ons of a group of teenagers in our carriage made the sternest looking woman burst out laughing – oh for a Babelfish in my ear.

Our hotel was near the Spanish Steps, Hotel San Carlo. Not crazy expensive, basic breakfast included, and so well located (which is important when time is limited). The most alarming, but very Italian thing, was my room number: 74. The hotel has no lift and after climbing as far as the third floor and seeing rooms 30-40, I began to doubt surviving the climb to the 7th floor! Luckily, Italians are a little free and wild with numbering so the 4th floor was rooms 70-80.

Day 1 in Rome: Walking & eating

Day 1 we walked. Up the Spanish Steps, left past the Villa Medici, through the Borghese Gardens, stumbling across great buildings, aesthetic trees, courting couples. Then we headed down into Piazza del Popolo, along Via del Corso, a major shopping street and thoroughfare, crowded with shoppers and wanderers. We were slightly distracted by various shops, but while damaging your credit card, you can still appreciate amazing architecture.

Saturday Shopping in Rome

And those police uniforms! Especially the carabinieri. Do they get these guys from Central Casting? Be still my beating heart. I had a job interview the day after I returned to London and when they asked me my weakness I had to stop myself replying “Italian Policemen”. But it is futile trying to get their attention – either they only stir themselves for really major crimes or they actually are window dressing while the real cops are hidden behind the scenes.

Dinner that night was at a great place in the grid of shopping and eating streets near our hotel: L’Enotec Antica on Via della Croce. We chose it because it looked atmospheric and the least touristy. We were right. There were lots of locals, the pasta was fresh, the service fast and efficient, the atmosphere great. After dinner, we wanted a nightcap but couldn’t get a seat at the bar so we went elsewhere: big mistake. In one of the many places with tables on the street, we were surrounded by young drinking English tourists and had a terrible tiramisu, which we didn’t finish according to the ‘empty calories’ theory (calories you don’t enjoy eating are pointless).

Day 2 in Rome: Ah, those Italian men

Day 2 we went for a coffee at Bar Gambero, a little place on Via della Vite and Via della Gambero that I had found a few years earlier. The same lovely waiters were still there, and they gave us free pastries – I flatter myself they remembered me but I suspect it is a first-visit tactic to make you a regular for your stay in Rome. Who cares! They were sugary goodness and the coffee was great.

Then we wandered. The Trevi Fountain is amazing if just for the sheer volume of people crowded around it. You have to wonder if the surrounding buildings are still apartments: imagine waking up to that everyday! Or even more fabulous, going to sleep looking at the fountain at night. It’s best all lit up, so we returned that night on our way home. We both threw in a coin and made a wish, avoiding the many, many guys offering to take our souvenir photo or push red roses into our hands followed by a demand for money. I can’t even imagine how crowded the small square must be in summer, at the height of the tourist season. Hang on tight to your handbag!

We visited the Pantheon. I love this building. Built around AD 120 – amazing. But one of the most interesting things is the way people behave there. It’s a sacred building, a basilica, and there are signs asking for respect and silence but people are wandering around talking loudly, sitting on the floor, yelling to friends. Maybe because it does not have the traditional church structure of aisle and altar and seating, it does not send us that ingrained message to be silent and reverent.

C U L8R AT 4UM

Next we wandered towards the river, via Piazza Navona, a huge square full of restaurants. But we shied away from eating there fearing inflated prices and decreased quality food. Instead we wandered through winding back streets, full of cute shops and found a little bistro, still full of us English speakers but with a nicer, less frantic atmosphere.

Then we headed for the Forum and the Colosseum. From the wrong side. Ah, the joy of travel without a map and a plan. We walked and walked, skirting the outside of the Forum, getting a great view of the ruins below us, but not actually finding the way in! By the time we did (it’s near the Colosseum by the way) we were tired, it was 9 euros each and we felt like we’d seen it by then. So we continued on to circumnavigate the Colosseum. Again, we didn’t go in, not feeling the need to part with the cash when you can sort of see in, and get the sense of the haunted place from the outside. Then we saw my favourite sight for the weekend: a Centurion texting on his mobile phone.

Exhausted we caught the Metro back to our hotel before braving a bus and a tram to get to the Trastavere district for dinner. I had a conversation with the bus guy, him speaking Italian, me English, but we understood enough to find the right bus. Trastavere is full of bars and bistros but long queues on a Saturday night. We were lucky to get a table in a place called Da Othello, highly recommended, lovely staff, great busy atmosphere and terrific antipasto then seafood with the whole fish filleted at the table. And the meal including wine was really cheap.

Then back to our local enoteca for a nightcap and for my travelling companion to break the heart of a barman who became completely smitten. We ended up returning there the following night for our final meal and he blushed and charmed his way into our memories forever. Ah, those Italian men.

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