The Art of Travel

Editor’s Note: All of us at Viator are thrilled to offer a small and growing collection of Morocco tours. The inaugural things to do focus in and around Marrakech. Over the next few weeks we’ll add Fes and other destinations throughout Morocco. As they say in Morocco, As-salam ʿleykum and welcome!

The road to Fes from Marrakech

Do I remember my first visit to Morocco?

Let me put it this way — do you remember the first time you were run over by a bus? Dropped from a plane without a parachute? Locked in a room with a poisonous snake?

Yeah. I remember my first trip to Morocco.

I was 20 years old. I was doing my junior year abroad studying in Ireland and somehow — forgive me, if you haven’t already — I convinced two of my closest friends to include Morocco on our “around Europe in 4 weeks” backpacking odyssey that summer.

At the time Morocco was nothing more than an idea to me. A distant concept. A combination of Indiana Jones meets the Arabian Nights. I had never visited an Arab country before, let alone a Muslim country. Neither had my two friends. It was going to be an adventure.

And in the interest of making a very long story much shorter, here’s the abridged version of what happened. (If you want to read the full version, I’m afraid you must buy a very forgettable Lonely Planet travel literature title — you have been warned.)

It is hot

Three 20-year-olds arrive in Morocco by ferry from Spain. They immediately board a train — a 14-hour train — to Fes, 4th class. If you’ve never heard of 4th class, that’s the section of the train with chickens and goats, no glass in the windows, wooden benches, and certainly no tourists.

We had completely forgot to buy water and food. We had nothing to eat or drink. Literally. And it was hot, as in 115-degrees hot.

At some point the train stopped moving completely. We sat roasting, idle, unmoving, in the Moroccan sun. My friends probably said a few unrepeatable and mean things to me, but I don’t remember. All I can remember is the heat. The hot sun. Desert.

We are kidnapped

Towards dusk, a nice man started chatting us up. He spoke fluent English. He was charming. He found a few cans of soda for us. He showed us how to write our own names in Arabic. He was our hero.

He suggests that, rather than arrive in Fes around midnight, why not jump off the train at the next stop. There’s a small town, he can give us the address of a good hotel, we can spend the night and catch the morning train to Fes, refreshed.

Of course. How sensible. We’ll do it.

A series of confusing events follows. We get off the train. There is no town. It’s desolate. A man in sunglasses directing us into the back of a waiting Mercedes. The three of us looking at each other, what do we do? Man in the sunglasses is pushing us into the car now. We are speeding off. The man from the train is nowhere to be seen. But a police car — siren blazing — all of a sudden appears behind us, chasing us. The Mercedes we’re in sets a new land-speed record and we outrun the coppers. We’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Are the police on our side? What side? Who’s side?

Wait — what’s going on here?????

We meet our kidnapper’s mom

After a half-hour or so in the Mercedes — did I mention it was black with auto-locking doors, I kid you not — we pulled into a small town and are dumped in front of a house. Magically, the main from the train opens a door and welcomes us with a huge smile. I can’t prove he said the words, “welcome my friends!” But I would bet my left kidney that he did.

He leads us upstairs, ignoring all of our questions, and shows us a comfortable-looking room with three beds. He tells us to drop our bags, have some tea, freshen up — and that dinner will be served shortly.

Dinner?

This is not me. But I’m afraid I looked as silly as this guy.

He then introduces us to his mother, who’s busy cooking and yet greets us with a friendly ear-to-ear smile like we are old friends or long lost children. And we meet two other ‘guests’, two American girls who’ve been here for nearly a week. They’re full of compliments and great stories about the week they’ve had.

Here’s how we summed up our situation. First, it seems we had been kidnapped from a Moroccan train. Second, it’s pretty likely we were chased by Moroccan police, but got away. Third, we’ve been taken to our kidnapper’s house, which is actually more like a bed and breakfast than a torture chamber. Fourth, his mom is a great cook. The lodging rates are good. Maybe we’ll stay here a while…

We have an amazing time in Morocco

After this admittedly rough start to our trip, Morocco continues to baffle us yet we have an amazing time anyway. Things I am proud of doing: exploring the souks in Fes and making friends with Morocco’s rabid soccer fans (this was during the ‘90 World Cup). Meeting some amazing people, eating some incredible food, and having a travel experience unlike any other in my life.

Things I am less proud of doing: accidentally stealing a Moroccan’s wallet and getting punched in the face. Being told that we would “fit in” better if wore the local dress — a jellaba — and then actually following that advice.

Since that first trip, I’ve been back to Morocco a few times. Each visit has been utterly unforgettable (in the best possible way). I’ve formed a deep attachment to Morocco, to the Moroccan people, and to sights and sounds of a country like no other I’ve visited.

I’m sure it’s hard to believe that this post is intended to be a full-throated endorsement of traveling to Morocco. Yet it is!

True, Morocco is not the easiest country in the world. And sure, you must learn to cope with any number of complexities and difficulties. No matter. If you’re contemplating a trip to Morocco, just go. I guarantee you will not regret it. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to get kidnapped by the same lovely family we were kidnapped by. If so, tell them hello from Scott and his friends.

–Scott McNeely

PS: I was cleaning out boxes in my garage, and found these two photos from our trip to Morocco…

Greg & Dave, in the house of our “kidnappers”

Greg & Dave, standing in the desert, wearing local dress…

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

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.

So, roll down the invisible hill again, straight outta Darwin, to Katherine. Or just get straight Outta Katherine if you’re already there already. Like you didn’t know to (get Outta Katherine, that is). Head west, which means south, but those people got it all upside down already, because this time it’s Western Australia that you have in your sights, which is of course West, but the road from the Katherinites perspective somehow departs from Katherine South. Go West - where the big brown land gets bigger and browner and like a gameshow in the outback the rising escarpments say “Come on Down”.

The boab tree, nearly as funny as the Western Australians

So get set for adventure, boab trees (you’ll like this one) and the best weird post-Brutalist sculptures on any roadside ever. Anywhere. Guaranteed.

Onward to the post-brutal West

As you get some kilometres under your belt speeding in a westerly direction along the mighty Victoria Highway away from Katherine and its Hot Springs and Gorge, etcetera etcetera, then you’ll notice the landscape slowly start to rear up and buckle some. Hills are the hot new thing out here, and pretty soon it’s catching on: Big hills are the go and when the rolling wide spaces get the hang of that there are escarpments.

Timber Creek sets the heart a-moving, not for its Wayside Inn nor the quaint little houses on little stilts at the nearby Indigenous community, but for the great towering wall of rock that somehow resembles a giant red piano with its top aloft, ivories etched vertically into the face greeting you as you come over the rise. After flat for breakfast, flat for lunch and, yes, flat for dinner for so long, it’s great to see somewhere take some initiative and stand up for itself and really do something different.

Sure there’s an escarpment in Arnhem Land, out at Oenpelli (Gunbalanya), and another down from Darwin at Hayes Creek. Even Katherine has a gorge and a 20-metre drop into the river bed from the bridge over north of town. But as the landscape’s canvas gets pretty stretched the further west you go, its spots like as this that manage to stand out by virtue of their grand singularity. Or something like that.

Pick your jaw back off your lap, because you’ll probably run into some kind of steering problem with it hanging down there, and get on down the road as Gregory National Park comes beckoning your way. Heck, its got the annual Devil’s Claw Festival (starting May 21 this year) and if that doesn’t go off like a bucket of weeds in the sun then what does? If memory serves me correctly then Gregory is also the second-biggest national park in the Northern Territory, largely because we haven’t crossed the Western Australia border yet, and being big there’s bloody heaps so why not just go there and save the precious paragraphs for that roadside wonder!

Keep River National Park

Pack your swag and keep on west and Keep River National Park will wander by your wheels. A nice stop, there’s lots of national parky goodness and that usually entails a bunch of space, trees, wet bits like creeks et al, and some bits with animals and clumps of dirt. You get the picture?

And, reeling in back in my recliner and reaching for my pipe, I care now to reflect on the trip after New Yeah’s 2002 (that Was a new yeah, ask in Darwin) when we burnt across the border, pursued by nightly displays of thunderheads and lightning all the way to Kununurra. If you’ll allow me a moment more, I shall recall how in Keep River we stood under a covered area some 15-metres wide, bereft of real shelter as the approaching cyclonic winds rendering tent a funny way to use to T’s, and somehow the rain managed to fall horizontally, wetting the ground and us when the odds said we were undercover. (So mental note, January = wet, but subnote: spectacular.)

Suffice to say we packed the van again and drove through puddles that would score a mention on some maps as new formed lakes, as we skipped the last bit across the highway, missing much of Keep River NP’s natural splendour.

An interesting to point to note at this stage, much as the order you find out as you approach the WA border: that load of fresh fruit and veggies you bought back in Katherine to see you through the next two weeks - forget it. Make an omelette, curry, stew, meal or two right now because just for crossing an invisible dotted line you lost the right to own it. Quarantine restrictions mean NO biological matter (they’ll even take beeswax candles) can go across the border. Sad but true. And rumour has it these guys don’t even like fruit or veggies, preferring a steak to anything and scurvy is just another kind of necktie to them.

Beef Road Monument: Does it get any better???

And crikey! In all that interstate excitement I forgot clear about the wonder of the North itself, combining three of the most important words in the Australian Language: Beef Road Monument. Like some alien Monolith without the adoring apes, or even a runaway Picasso, this mighty block of concrete sporting the unique corrugated iron style is a Must for any family holiday. Damn, I rushed out of the car and hugged it I was so happy to see something that finally settled all my yearnings for beef, roads and monuments in one. It’s not clear how it relates to any of these things, but something inside of me just Knew. You’ve seen brutalism in architecture, there’s “post-“ just about everything as you’d know from any decent late-night campfire postulations (post-structuralist, post-modernist, post-arrivalist) and this thing is so post, that its pretty much post-post-Brutalist its so post-like and Brutal at the same time.

Do yourself a favour, go there and hug it so you know what true, unflinching gratitude can be.

Oh yeah, from there you can drive over the border and on to about one third of Australia’s land mass where you can find the Kimberleys in all their large and resplendent glorious, um… splendour. Rivers with wild crocodiles, gorges beyond description, boab trees (funny things) and Western Australians (even funnier). That’s if you find the need to tear yourself away from the Beef Road Monument. It should probably have National at the start of that, just so we can hang a flag there. I think I’m weeping…

–Jack Brown

Planning a trip? We think Jack is suggesting you check out things to do in Perth, Broome and the splendor of Western Australia, including the Kimberley. But you just never know with Jack.

A friend told me the first time I came here, that every summer you spend in Berlin, will be better than the last. You have survived the long winter, now the sunshine is warm and you want to make the most of it.The city parks are indeed plentiful, and inside their lush greenery is where you will find the locals hanging out, enjoying the sunshine and working on their tans.

Many of them have a café, some have Ping Pong tables, a flea market or a lake. And of course, this being Germany, there is often an important site redolent with history to be found close by. So here’s my list of the top places to be, things to do, in Berlin this summer.

Yes, there are plenty of things to do in Berlin during summer

Things to Do in Berlin: Visit a Park

Gorlitzer Park in Kruezberg is across the road from one of the places I stayed on my first trip to Berlin, watching the puffballs float through the air, making my through the chattering Turkish family picnics and groups of young kids hanging out, doing capoiera, or playing ball games. This area was heavily bombed during World War II; an enormous crater is left in the park, showing where the railway underpass ran, as a reminder of the desecration and violence of war. The twisted metal from the railway underneath is formed into an abstract monument, jutting up into the sky. Edelweiss Cafe is opposite the faux roman ruins – an expensive edifice that is crumbling and in genuine decay now, as the sandstone absorbs the water that freezes and then cracks, making them into an all the more authentic, although expensive folly. The café has lush banquette seating, a nice relaxed vibe and upstairs hosts parties, concerts and literary events, in summer the chairs outside are perfect for observing the passing parade.

The Mauer Park hosts one of the best flea markets in town every Sunday, and the wandering musicians and buskers will keep you entertained after you have sifted through the incredibly range of second hand treasures and junk. During the recent Berlinale Film Festival, the crowd suddenly swelled with the upmarket well-dressed international film-set, making a change from the usual mixed array of hipsters, artists, and stalwart locals. The scout hall tucked away in the middle of market is an island of calm, at least until the play area becomes overrun by small children. Until then, get yourself a coffee or beer from the outside bar, and lean back in your deckchair and relax on the sand in the sun, with the generic euro-dance music making it a kind of after-party every Sunday.

This is of course along where the Berlin wall ran, creating a limbo zone on either side, and it has been regenerated over the past 20 years into the lively district it is today. Further down Bernauer Strasse towards Nordbahnhof, a short section of the wall still stands, opposite the new museum and a fascinating open-air exhibition about the history of the street, centering around the construction and eventual destruction of the wall.

Next, lose yourself in the rambling Volkspark Friedrichshain park, which has play areas for all ages – from children to fitness freaks - plus wonderful wooden swings, a lake, elephant statues and some lovely paths winding through hills and monuments. Café Schönbrunn is closest to the Am Friedrichshain street entrance, near the corner of Hans Otto Strasse, overlooking the lake and a gorgeous patch of emerald lawn, it has a cosy minimalist interior and outdoor terrace to enjoy the sun and warm evenings.

Nola’s Am Weinberg Swedish Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge is at the top of the hill in the Volkspark am Weinberg, named after the former vineyards located on the site, between Veternanenstrasse and Kastanienallee. They have a decadent if slightly pricey menu, including a variety of fondues, and there is a special lunch deal of 3 courses for around 8 euro. The view and ambiance make the prices worthwhile, looking over the grassy hill and across the city, and the benches along the terrace are perfect for late afternoon drinks, while the sun disappears behind the trees.

Eve and Adam’s 100% organic salad and smoothie bar (at Rosa Luxemburg Strasse 24-26) will keep your energy flowing with vitality and freshness, perfect summer taste after that walking in the park. All of the containers are biodegradable, and the design is simple and refreshingly open.

Things to Do in Berlin: Mitte Revisited

Now that I’ve lived here for 3 months I’ve found that there is plenty of joy to be found in Mitte, from the Ballhouse to the bathhouse. Schwarzwaldstuben, on the corner of Linienstrasse and Tucholskystrasse, is a fabulous place to while away a decadent afternoon, with robust German dishes and decent coffee. A friend and I tucked ourselves into the couch one afternoon, as we couldn’t head back out onto the streets until the hurricane passed, so spent a lush few hours drinking sekt.

You might want to get back out into the sunshine, and find your way along the many galleries on these two parallel streets to see what’s happening in the commercial art world these days. The scene is definitely hot, hyped and popping, with careers and fortunes being made all over town.

The Ballhaus Mitte, on Auguststrasse, is a fantastic reminder of bygone days, with a minimal entrance fee, old-style charm, live music, and even dance classes a few nights a week.

Stadtbad Mitte has an amazing Russian-style bathhouse and sauna on the third floor, although make sure you follow all the rules during your visit, or the ladies will berate you and fetch the manager to get you back on the program. The dry sauna has an intermediate room with stone benches, and a larger wooden area that gets very hot, and the damp room is satisfyingly steamy. The plunge pool will refresh you in between, if you can dip more than a toe in it, and the relaxing room has a lush array of rocking chairs that tilt back for the full therapeutic effect.

Things to Do in Berlin: Expose Yourself to Art

Artnews Projects, Berlin

The art galleries have blossomed into another cluster along Brunnenstrasse, where if you time your visit to coincide with all their openings, can provide a colourful evening’s entertainment. Artnews Projects has consistently the best shows I’ve seen on this strip, where the New York to Berlin art crowd are making a splash, and I often finish up at Curators without Borders for the best parties, or the after-party at Kim and Zurmobel out the back of Brunnenstrasse 10.

Alternatively make your way out along Invalidenstrasse to Heidestrasse, where a different batch of the art crowd has set up camp, with Tape, AA, Haunch of Venison, and more galleries, Pecha Kucha nights and art scene parties

Program Gallery hosted me for three months, and has an open approach and diverse range of art events and exhibitions, everything from installation to the weekend symposium on sound art and architecture, and most recently a workshop in which the gallery was taken over by a group of fantastically bohemian and very dedicated French artists, who created a river of blood and roasted a pig as part of their work. The gallery also hosts a monthly reading group, and is home to many architects and designers working in the open plan space. Drop by and say hi.

Things to Do in Berlin: Film & Theatre

The tiny cinema opposite Babel at K77 has a great program of art house films, next door is Dock 11 Dance studio for experimental dance, music, literature and film fans. If you really can’t stand being inside, then check out the Freiluftkino open-air cinema. A number of them spring up around the city between May – September, with a great program of new release and classic films.

The Volksbuhne is one of the most innovative and spectacular theatres in town, established in 1914, with a commitment to providing entertaining theatre and an ongoing debate on political and cultural issues. Also hosting live music and ‘expanded theatre’ projects, check out the program for this sumptuous performance venue.

–Jodi Rose

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

Ljubljana is a fabulous town, and set to play a much larger role on the world stage this year as Slovenia steps up and takes the (rotating) role of President of the EU. Slovenia is the first ex-communist country to do so, and one that is far larger in spirit and culture than the geographical area it occupies would suggest. Home to the infamous NSK (Neue Slowenische Kunst) art collective, which includes the band Laibach, painters group IRWIN and the Department of Pure and Applied Philosophy, Ljubljana was high on my list of places to visit when I first dreamed of Europe.

The comets of Ljubljana

The first thing I notice, driving through the Austrian Alps from Klagenfurt Airport, is Ljubljana’s incredibly beautiful setting. Nestled between mountains and even with the inevitable concrete urban growth, this compact city has a great deal of charm. I didn’t even make it to the centre of the old town until after the first week, and managed to spend an entire day under a bridge. (Klagenfurt is a small skiing town in Austria is where the cheap flights land; to reach Ljubljana from here takes less than 2 hours by car and around 3 hours by train.)

Ljubljana: Art & culture

Soak up the atmosphere and orient yourself on arrival with a walk along the three rivers, which connect in the centre of the old town. In winter there is a magnificent display of galaxies and comets throughout the winding cobbled streets, with lighting designed by one of the countries’ most famous painters. The romantic story of Francè Preseren, the National Slovene poet, is commemorated with his statue gazing out the window in Preseren Square. (Here he is eternally looking across longingly at the window of his lost love, Julia, who broke his heart by marrying a German banker. Most of his poetry centers on themes of hopeless love, romantic yearning and existential angst.)

The Slovenian sculptor Marko Pogacnik is a famous “earth healer,” a process he has named lythopuncture. This deals with the energies that flow beyond visible nature, the earth healing process and new consciousness of the earth and our planet. He plans to regenerate the city by aligning the urban vibrations with the natural flow of energy around the globe, but until then the central parliament is somewhat off centre and located on a busy intersection.

The original design by architect Joze Plecnik was to connect the churches on either side of the river with the house of parliament, and so create a power triad through the town. He designed the Triple Bridge across the Ljubljanica river (Tromostovje), the market along the riverbanks and had planned future development of the city, with his not-executed work being the design for a Slovene parliament 120 meters high. (The fourth Bridging the Gap conference takes place in Slovenia in May, hosted by the Environmental Agency of the Republic of Slovenia, with a focus on responding to environmental change.)

Slovenia: Do you feel love?

Ljubljana: See a film

When you’re ready to sink back into the comfort of a velvet chair and watch the latest art-house films, or perhaps experience a live ‘expanded’ cinema performance, make your way to KinoDvor. The classic refurbished cinema is home to an eclectic program of international and local films, and also hosts experimental film and video events, such as the Singing Bridges Live set, where I performed with Luka Dekleva, part of CoDeep collective, and Nova Viator, who run a diverse array of audio visual club nights, a spring festival and one-off performances. If you’re lucky enough to coincide w