The Art of Travel

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 with one of these events, you are sure of a great time, the scene is warm, friendly and welcoming. Keep your eyes and ears open when you’re out and about in the town, as you might also find one of Nova’s art installations scattered throughout the city.

Ljubljana: Eat, drink, dance

For some of the best simple and tasty Bosnian food, and football mad décor, stop by at Lovpol (Litijslacesta 47, 1000 Ljubljana). We had sudukice z lepinjo, beef sausages with bread and paprika sauce, green beans and kajmak (butter cheese). Delicious!

Dinner at Lovpol in Ljubljana, Slovenia

Once you head back into town, find your way to Metelkova, the ‘internationally renowned autonomous cultural zone’ created on the site of the former military barracks. This public space lay unused until September 1993, when it was occupied in order to prevent its illegal demolition by the government, and to carry out various forms of autonomous creativity. It’s now home to a complex of artist studios, galleries, bars and clubs. Metelkova is one of the few places where different types of live music ranging from Free Jazz, Noise to Dub and Techno can be heard in peaceful coexistence.

A number of artists have their studios at Metelkova, along with one of the most open and creatively varied galleries for contemporary art not only in Slovenia but regionally, too. I was taken to the secret “dark room” bar at Jalla Jalla and introduced to the Slovene Bears Blood, one of a series of contemporary drinks with a folk-story twist. Urban tribe, another young funky group who also put on parties, are responsible for some of the most intriguing alcohol marketing I have ever seen. Their range of vodka allows you to shout a phrase into the bottle, and the sound-wave of this vocal print is then embedded into the glass for your drinking pleasure. Their absinthe is apparently as genuine as you can get without wormwood.

After this, we head over to Alkatraz gallery, where the exhibition opening features a Kitsch (art group) calendar of Barbie and Ken (and their friends), playing in a variety of polyamorous configurations in local settings. The homemade schnapps almost killed me, somehow I made it back into the centre of town for a club night at K4.

The latest party organizers to make a splash in the town are Sindikat, who put on the fantastic queer party at K4 Club, with multiple dance floors, VJ’s and rooms filled with assorted hipsters, artists, dancers and freaks! The club is home to a variety of avant-garde music and visuals collectives and groups, and is also associated with the art next door in Gallery Kapelica. This is always worth a visit, as they show some fascinating work from local and international artists, you might just stumble across one of the next big sensations in the art world.

–Jodi Rose

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours & things to do in Slovenia, from Ljubljana day trips to the Postojna Caves and Predjama Castle.

Editor’s Note: This post is by writer and playwright Anto Howard, a.ka. the Disillusioned Dubliner. He’s writing about his hometown of Dublin — about the good, the bad and the ugly. Last time ’round Anto was saved by a Culchie woman. This time he’s exploring his inner leprechaun.

What’s the best time of year to visit Dublin?

It’s a common but always tricky question put to The Disillusioned Dubliner. The dry, not-too-crowded shoulder months of May and September are one possible answer; the celebratory, slow, two-week build up to Christmas also displays the city at its best; or how about October, when the trees have turned and the theatres are opening a new season. All in all not an easy question to answer. When someone asks what’s the worst time of year to…

I screw up my already wizened face, cut them off mid sentence and answer in a flash — Paddy’s Day.

Drunken young men in big, fake hats. Welcome to Paddy’s Day

St Patrick’s Day in Dublin: Not Impressed

St Patrick’s Day in Dublin is a nightmare if you don’t fall into one of the following four categories.

1. Teenage boy before 7pm. (After 7pm your day tends to fall apart when you suddenly feel the urge to leave the pub underage drinking session and vomit on the first pristine cobblestone street you can find.)
2. Vendors who speculated early and cornered the market in oversized green hats and blow-up green hammers.
3. Children under age 10, before the sweets run out and the boredom sets in.
4. No, that’s it, there is no one else.

The 17th of March in Dublin is like August in Paris and like summer weekends in New York. Any city resident with a grain of sense gets the hell out of the place and lets the suburban barbarians and foreign innocents try (and fail once again) to convince themselves — as they shiver in the sleety rain and chow down on a half-cooked, frozen, deep-fried fish fillet that cost 11 euro — that they must be having fun because it’s St. Patrick’s day after all. Myself, of course, seeing it as my duty to report this madness to the greater world, this year bravely chose to stay in Dublin and stand witness to the lunacy.

St Paddy’s Day, Plus ca change

Standard St. Patrick’s Day Attire

So this March 17th I set out from my city centre apartment with very little hope of encountering anything that might change my dark opinion on our national holiday. I made my way up to Dame Street to get a good position to watch the famous Paddy’s Day parade pass by (an hour and a half later than promised).

But I had forgotten — there is no such thing as a good position to watch the Paddy’s Day parade, somehow, in the shifting 10-deep and surly crowd, you are always behind someone (unless you are one of the sick individuals who arrived in the wee hours of the morning, flask of tea in hand, to book your precious place against the ropes). Add to this the aforementioned ubiquitous giant Leprechaun hats, and any chance of a good view was quickly forgotten.

Memories flooded back of freezing childhood St. Patrick’s Days spent on tippy-toes trying desperately to catch a glimpse of some man with a plastic crozier in hand and a large, Papier Mache mitre on his head. Plus ca change…

Dublin City Council may have spent a few shillings in the last few years turning the St. Patrick’s Day Parade into a week long “Festival,” but here I was again with a bad view of men dressed up in costumes that look like they were made by a six year old who had just downed half a cough bottle. Are all parades this boring and uncomfortable? How about Mardi Gras? At least it’s warm I suppose, and the girls are beautiful and half naked.

Best place to view the parade, from inside a bookmakers on Dame Street

But I still think the parade in its essence hints of the Emperor’s New Clothes; everything thinks they are supposed to enjoy them but few really do. I looked around for some kids to make sure my dissatisfaction wasn’t purely an adult rant. Yes, I saw plenty of them smiling, a few laughing, but I quickly noticed it was the crowd, the other children, the sweets stuffed in their mouths that held their interests and delight which quickly wandered from the parade as yet another “creature” made out of paper, spit and watercolour paint wobbled by.

A Few More Kebabs Sold, A Few More Kegs Emptied

After half an hour in the cold I had had enough and was ready to go home. Easier said than done. The crowds had blocked the pavement and even if I managed to squeeze through the police wouldn’t let me cross the road. I felt trapped. I noticed a bookmakers behind me on Dame Street. It was empty but the lights were on. I squeezed in the door and the silence and warmth hit me with the pleasure of simple but forgotten delights. An oasis in the city of the marching mad. I put a few casual, 2 euro bets on some very average racing from Wexford and let the parade pass me by outside.

Two hours later and 14 euro lighter I exited onto some eerily quite streets. On St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin these are the dead late afternoon hours after the parade has ended and before the real business of Paddy’s Day — drinking till you drop — begins. Wrong again!

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Oh how I do like to be beside the seaside. Stralsund, that’s the place to be.

To get anywhere in Germany not in Berlin, as logic would dictate, you need to get out of Berlin. We’re not exactly talking about Los Angelese-style overpasses and car-sized turnstiles, but there is a fair share of confusion in Germany to find the right offramp / roadway / highway number, so that freedom of movement can be yours again. That and the whole driving on the wrong side of the road thing.

Or as my Dresdonian friend pointed out, “the Right Side of the road.” Which indeed it is, but that don’t make it right. Driving on the right amps up the “which way do I do the hook turn” anxiety index. If you are one of these people that has broadband wireless internet in the refrigerator, on the toilet and in your car then an online map of Berlin may be of some help. But if, like me, you feel more secure with both hands on the wheel, not one on a mouse, then you can also use it to print out a door-to-door list of directions.

Getaways in Germany: The Road to Stralsund

Jack’s impression of the road to Stralsund

The jettison from the not-so-sprawling city through to the welcoming woods takes not so long, once exit velocity has wound up the car to the mandatory 140km/h. Now passing through Eberswalde, then New Brandberg and up past Greifswalde. From the road, especially at night, it’s all just fields of little red-winking lights from the windmills, steadily and silently gathering power for toasting bread and warming tiny sausages across the great flat land.

I imagine little hands gathering all that wind energy, wearing Mickey Mouse gloves, waving at you quietly as the arms turn. It makes the German countryside the most welcoming place you’ve ever driven through.

Back in the day of old old Germany, there existed a handful of towns exempt from particular government taxes, the Hansestadt as they were known. Hamburg, Wismar and Bremen numbered among them, as well as the coastal town of Stralsund.

For the Australians among us, Stralsund is about the size of Darwin (80,000 or so people), is also on the coast, has about the same weather in summer as Darwin in late dry season, but is fortunate enough not to be lashed occasionally by cyclones. Like Darwin, Stralsund is regularly drowning in tourists. Except most of these do not wear thongs.

Being a coastal town, Stralsund has a sweet little wharf and pier. You can check out all the classic boats that carry mad Scandanavians about the North Sea and on a Saturday night you can go down there and get drunk with the locals and listen to classic hit jukebox action at the WerkStatt, a truly surreal favourite of mine.

Stralsund at night

During a good winter you can also watch the dark waters of the sea freeze and pile up into cracked sheets. And, from the comfort of your mouse-side wireless retreat from the world, you can watch the hideous new OceanWorld being built along said pier. (Yes, the nice little places at the end of the road soon become car parks for new violations of the senses, even this quaint town is afflicted.)

If you fancy a more direct sensory jolt, then join the crazies who start the swimming season each year with an icy plunge at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Remembering that this is the pit of winter, nipples make take weeks to unharden and many more work their way into the first flu of the year with this little dip in the Hiddensee near Rügen each year.

Moving back a little from the construction, the roads by the canals are over 300 years old. The rest of the Altstadt (old town) is some 700 years old. One of the largest organs in Germany hides inside one of the three grand cathedrals that frame Stralsund’s skyline. Plenty of quaintness to dally with, but its the island across the bridge that we seek.

Getaways in Germany: Onward to Rügen Island

Rügen is Germany’s largest island and a happy little idyll in the North Sea, at that. If you fancy getting a bicycle under you, then a couple of very pleasant days can be had in pursuit of fresh air, vividly coloured forests and open spaces, interspersed with dabs of pebbly beach and monumental German buildings.

Prora on Rugen Island. You gotta see it to believe it.

Prora, on the northern side of Rügen, is the largest and also one of the strangest buildings in Germany (now that Templehof airport in Berlin is being decommissioned). Bend that head as you try to take in a 7-kilometre-long building. That’s right, it’s one continuous building that runs along the coast, ensuring every room had a view of the sea. Little arcades were conveniently placed throughout the ambling stretch of tiles and waterfrontage, cutting that walk to the beach down from an hour (should you need to cut right round it) to a short hop skip and a jump. Prora was built as a single-minded testatment to the power of the holiday camp, back when politics in this part of the world were a little troublesome. It’s now a tourist attraction — and attract tourists it does, over 100,000 a year.

Also worth mentioning is the little village of Trippe, which is probably what you’ll do if you head over to the northeast side of the island and stretch your goggles around the white chalk cliffs from Sassnitz to Lohme. The stark white of the limestone does something to your eyes. Nothing like a natural high at the end of the ends of the earth, I reckon.

I don’t know about you, but all this talk of fresh air and open spaces can make the mind a-boggle, and there’s nothing better to bring things back to Earth than a fresh cold beer – puts things in perspective and slows them down so a man can take stock of the situation. Given that this is Germany, you can drink anyplace you like. As long as there are hours in the day, or night, there’s always time, and a right time at that, for a refreshing half-litre of golden tonic. So don’t get yourself in a ferment over the excess of things to do and places to be in Germany’s grand north. Grab a local Stralsunder, perch yourself by the seaside, and let it all just wash back and forth till there’s no place like home.

–Jack Brown

Plannnig a trip? Browse Viator’s list of things to do in Berlin, Munich tours and what to do in Germany.

Editor’s Note: Jack is back. Well near a computer, anyway. It’s been a rough month for Jack after that wrong turn down in Queensland. Since then he’s been up and down and round and round, with more than a few tales to tell. Jack is in Berlin now. It’s unclear how he got there. And it’s equally unclear if the Australian passport authorities will ever let Jack come home again.

Black clothes? Check. Mowhawk? Check.

As you might expect, I’ve been a little down-on-my-luck lately. Had a fight with the missus, got turfed out on the street, and been a bit short on cash. I had to walk for a while, and well, even without a wallet full of pictures of the Queen, I managed to get around. I had this theory that, if you did it the right way, you could make your way without any money, but you’d have to do it with a particular style, y’know – flair.

But first, a point of order: I like a beer as much the next bloke, and I’ve had more than a few in my time, probably more than hot dinners, mainly because its hard to have six or more hot dinners straight after your first hot dinner. But beer? There’s always room for one more, and as they say, one for the road.

And if the road is where you are heading, probably just for a sleep or to meet some mates, who’s to say “no”? Even if it is well before midday and you don’t quite sound like you’re past last night. But if they’re only 60 cents, then chuck a couple of extra letters in “beer” and call that “breakfast”.

Now as far as that point of style goes, you may have noticed, except for some of the bands that tour nowadays, it’s not the 1970s anymore. And a *few* things have changed.

But the punks of Berlin seem to have that debonair way with cloth and hair that is like a passport to the world, and their story, well it’s sort of like a gutter and street-corner tour of the world. They care not for money, they care not for manners, hygiene and fine dentition. They care not for their packs of dogs of mixed breeding (except for the cute little scarfs they make them wear). One could learn a lot from these backpackers of the streets (strasse): travel light, don’t get thirsty and know all the things not to do and people not so see.

Berlin Punk: Some Background

The truth of the matter is, being punk in Berlin starts with an attitude, which is how the whole punk thing got started in the first place. Back in the glory days, the attitude came from your politics: social change, dissatisfaction with the way things were and nonviolent direct action. And like any decent cowboy of the streets, the way you dressed and how you lived showed your hard-fought politics, so there was something to it. I don’t usually judge a book by its cover, but these days in the punk section of life’s library, there is a lot more “poor me” whining, punk as fashion statement, and direct non-action than even a couple of years ago.

Berlin Punk: You Need a Dog

To have your passport to punk-backpacking success stamped and ready to go, you will need: that dog or two I mentioned before, some black clothes (ill-fitting is best), obligatory safety pins, hair in a mandatory mohawk (with or without colour and vertical ascension), boots, empty pockets and — to pull it altogether — a loping stride and downcast sneer. Got it? Now we need somewhere to go.

Berlin Punk: A Place to Loiter

Berlin Punk is Not Dead

Berlin’s Alexanderplatz must have been an amazing place for people to come together back in the day: a great hulking open space in the middle of a great booming city, old Soviet-style buildings dwarfing everything in the area. Imagine all the People coming to be comrades, to meet, to talk, to greet each other and spend some time, even in the depths of the cold Berlin winter; the harsh shapes of the buildings softened by the warmth of the people milling in the Platz. AND it features the amazing golf ball on a stick (Fernsehturm, or TV Tower). Makes a fella from the country just wonder and shake his head, because a place like this could eat 10 town squares for breakfast and still have room for more.

And there’s that word again, breakfast, makes my stomach rumble just running over the words in my mind and for good reason, too. Three things I’ve found in my few days in Germany - well Berlin, which is practically an island in the stream. These three things could practically pass for a national pasttime in these parts: Breakfast, Renovation and Bicycles. Of these three, breakfast is the punk-backpackers only domain. No house to renovate, no need for a bike (because you’ve got your feet, and they’ve got boots). So back to breakfast and Alexanderplatz, what could they have in common? Twenty of your mates, two dogs each and that beer we left waiting a couple of paragraphs ago. Now head down to the platz and get started!

Helps make friends, won’t help keep them

Another good place to hang out is at Kottbusser Tor U-bahn station, there’s always a party going on there — y’know just standing about and talking to drunks and their dogs. Just round the corner there is the Köpi, home of the regular Volkskuche (literally “people’s kitchen” or a place for cheap shared meals), punk bands on weekends and punks during the week (it smells the same any day).

Or there’s always the old favourite, Friedrichshain: plenty of space, the rent is still cheap but unfortunately most of the squats have been shut down so that leaves you with only take-away beers to drink at those great hangouts because the squat bars are nearly all gone. There is still the Fischladen though, and that will always live on.

Berlin Punk: Things Not To Do

Now, if you’ve got the hang of it and a few places to get started on your punk backpacker’s tour of Berlin you’ll need some things to do. We’ve already covered beer, drinking in public and hanging out with your dog. When out walking, if you need some space and someone is in the way, just push through (but ignore them as you do it). And remember if you are short of space, there is always more room on the bike-path or especially on the road.

If you need a steady course of income try begging, or bang away on a guitar tunelessly while your mate begs. Or maybe just a sign in front of you so you can fit in some quality staring-at-the-ground time, there’s never enough of that. Don’t forget not to smile. Smashing bottles is always good to fill the day (again, especialy on the bike path), as is shouting at the ruling class, they’re everywhere. You’ll know them because they’re the ones that don’t look like you.

–Jack Brown

Plannnig a trip? Browse Viator’s list of things to do in Berlin, Munich tours and what to do in Germany.

Is there anything worse than waiting to travel? When you know you’ve got a trip coming up, but you’re still saving money. Or, even worse, if you want to travel, need to travel, but yet have no idea when you can spare the time or money to actually hit the road again.

It’s at times like these that being home can drive you nuts.

But there is relief in sight. Meeting friendly locals, learning a few words of another language, tasting something indescribable, stumbling on a breathtaking view when you thought you were just lost: almost any travel experience (including a bout of diarrhoea, if you’re really hardcore) can be replicated in your own hometown. It may not be quite as good as the real thing, but try a couple of the adventures below and you might find some slight relief for your itchy feet.

Have Camera, Will Travel: Take a Photo of Tourists in Your Hometown

Meet the Locals

If you’re like most people, you go out to the same few places every weekend. You consider yourself a certain type of person, so you go to a certain type of club, bar or pub.

It’s time for a change.

Where’s the drinking hole you’re least likely to visit? (If it’s incredibly dangerous, cross it off your list and choose the second-least likely.) This Saturday night, you’re going there. And on your visit, keep in mind the most important tenet of travel: respect the local customs and learn from them.

How do the locals dress? Dress similarly, so as not to offend them. Observe their customs and ways of behaving and try to fit in. Try to talk to the regulars – you never know what you might learn about horse racing, construction work, snagging a rich husband, beach volleyball or what that guy from Poison is up to these days.

Be open-minded and tolerant. Just because they do things differently, doesn’t mean they’re wrong. And enjoy your cultural experience.

Next Stop: Q8

Having a great time in Q8: Wish You Were Here

Back in 1991, everyone wanted a piece of this previously unheard of autocracy in the Arabian Peninsula. Now the rush is over, you can grab yourself a piece of Q8y action.

Get a street directory or map for your hometown and open it to a random page. Put your finger on the coordinates Q8. What’s there? Probably not much. And that is your destination for today.

Treat this like an expedition to a far-off land. Remember to pack all the things you’ll need – bottled water, camera, comfortable shoes – and put your money in a safe place. Take plenty of photos, pick up some souvenirs (some interesting leaves, a flier taped to a lamp pole), and remember to send your family an email telling them what a great time you had.

Have Camera, Will Travel

Think of somewhere in your hometown that tourists love to visit (if you live in a really tiny town, it may require a day trip to do this excursion). Go to that place, and take a camera with you. Your mission: to photograph the tourists.

How you do this depends on the kind of person you are. You could take candid shots of tourists taking their own photographs (very post-modern). Or you could politely ask them to pose for your camera in front of the attraction, and ask them who they are, where they’re from and what they came to see, then write a little bio to go with each photo.

Recipe for Disaster

Recipe for disaster? The smile suggests yes.

Some countries have a magic touch when it comes to distilling liquor; others just ferment whatever they find buried up the back of the shed under some burlap sacks. But whether glorious or vile, the thrill of tasting exotic booze is one of the highlights of travel. (The photo? In Cambodia with a vat of rice wine, drunkenness ensuing.)

And thanks to globalisation you can now gamble your liver and eyesight in the comfort of your very own home. Invite your closest friends to your place for a cocktail party. Everyone has to bring a bottle of something foreign that they’ve never tasted before: your local liquor store or supermarket is bound to harbor at least one dubious spirit, beer or wine of unidentifiable lineage. Then, mix and match at your discretion. And remember, you can’t have too much water. Seriously. Drink up.

Speak to Me

There are any number of frivolous ways to dabble in different cultures. See anything in this blog, for example. But just for a minute, be serious. Please.

So much of traveling is about finding out how other people live: visiting tribes in the hills of Thailand, dancing with the locals in a bar in Nicaragua, renting an apartment for a couple of weeks in Paris. Knowing that things can be done differently gives us a fresh look at the way we do things. And sure, if you’re staying home you can have dinner in a Vietnamese restaurant or see a French film and get a little bit of that insight. Or you could become a volunteer English tutor for a recent migrant.

Do what now? Don’t you have to go to university for that?

You don’t. All over the country, community-based organisations train people to be volunteer English tutors. All it requires is a commitment of your time (try calling your local university, technical college, migrant centre or local government for more information). Even if there’s no such organization in your area or you don’t feel comfortable formally tutoring someone to speak English, lots of migrants really just want someone they can practise English with. All you have to do is have a little chat with them once a week or so. You can discuss football, cooking, weddings, what’s on TV or the country they’re from: whatever the two of you feel like talking about.

Put up some notices around your local schools, shopping centres or cultural centres and see if anyone’s interested. Helping someone out with their English, seeing the way this improves their life, and at the same time finding out about a completely different way of living is one of the most rewarding experiences you can have.

–Jane Rawson

When I first visited New York City’s Lower East Side a decade ago, there was a gigantic graffitoed painting of recently murdered Mexican diva, Selena Quintanilla-Pérez, on the side wall of a building on the corner of East Houston Street. It separated the neighbourhood from its more genteel neighbour, the East Village.

Lower East Side street art

Now it’s a billboard for a lending institution.

NYC’s Lower East Side: Remembrances of things past

When visiting New York, I always stay on the Lower East Side with my Australian friend, whom I shall refer to by the name of Dee to protect the innocent. Dee lives a short walk from Chinatown on the Lower East Sire. And as I arrive in the late afternoon I usually arrange to meet Dee after her work in an uptown office megaplex at Lotus, where I can snuggle my chai (yes, dear reader, forgive me, for I am a chai-snuggler) and read for as long as it takes Dee to brave the perils of peak-hour subway.

I walk down Clinton to Lotus and enter: shock horror, an empty Lotus awaits, all darkened and reddened, the arrival of party-going hordes. The chais are gone, the tuna-salad bagels are gone, the piles of the Village Voice are gone. Lotus is now just another hipster bar, one of dozens that continue to pop up in the neighbourhood: the Lower East Side is now a beacon of Manhattan nightlife.

Later, as we eat nearby in the din at the bustlingly gorgeous Schiller’s Liquor Bar, Dee is unmoved and unsurprised. “You know, Alex, if you could see the changes that have happened to the Lower East Side since we moved in eight years ago. When we moved here, it was all Dominican.” The story is a familiar one: this neighbourhood hosted each successive wave of immigrants until the real estate boom flushed out the last corners of cheapish rent on Manhattan island. Thankfully, diversity’s fabric hasn’t been totally unthreaded. The nearby projects still remain, meaning the neighbourhood hasn’t last all of its diversity.

Sunday morning, D Train

The following day, at Soy, a Japanesey hole-in-the-wall on Suffolk between Rivington and Delancey, I meet Nicky, an artist at the Clemente Solo Velez Cultural Centre. Named after a distinguished Puerto Rican poet, it’s a former public school and an architectural landmark distinguished by early 20th-century exuberance. It houses two small theatres and a couple of dozen artist’s studios and is a stalwart of the old Lower East Side. For as long as I’ve visited the neighbourhood, its ground level has been clad in graffitoed scaffolding.

“I’ve had a studio there 16 years,” Nicky says. “At the beginning it didn’t even have locks on the doors. It was a squat, you know - this was a pretty rough neighbourbood. We had to fight the city to keep it, then we had to fight those who wanted it to be just for the Puerto Ricans. I can’t begin to tell you the troubles we’ve had keeping that building. But my rent is ridiculously cheap.” There comes a certain age in one’s life when you can’t have a conversation without talking about the price of real estate.

A scruffy, insouciant, rock ‘n’ roll guide to the Lower East Side

This is a fast-changing world, but that doesn’t mean every travel article about the Lower East Side should be a eulogy of things past. Sure there are Manhattan neighbourhoods with more and better museums, fancier restaurants, better-heeled locals and more camera-genic locales. Yet you’d be hard-pressed to find a Manhattan neighbourhood more rock’n’roll than this one.

So here follows my scruffy, insouciant, rock ‘n’ roll guide to the Lower East Side.

• Best Guitar Store. Hipsters love vintage guitars, which means that the neighbourhood boasts some wonderful purveyors of the ax. My favourite: Rivington Guitars. Thanks, Howie for giving me a demo of that 12-string Rickenbacker on that vintage Vox amp, even though you’d just driven 20 hours that weekend to pick up some axes in Ohio, and even though I had to tell you some pathetic lies about how I was “thinking about how to push my music in new directions” to get you to do it. I wish I was you.
• Best Street Art. Hipsters love graffiti, which they call ‘street art’. Check this out.
• Best Bookstore. McNally Robinson, on Prince Street. Technically in Little Italy, this place makes literature hip, and that, friends, is no easy feat.
• Best Restaurant. I am a sucker for two things: hipster women and restaurants with strange symbols in their names. I don’t know if MS Word is even going to let me type this, so let me try: ‘inoteca. Damn, how do I get that apostrophe to face the other way? Long story short: snacky Italian bar-type meals, New York bustle, Italian wine list as long as (but far more interesting than) Dante’s Paradiso. Cheese list factor: stinky (that’s good).
• Best Cinema. Two Boots, corner Avenue A and E 3rd St. Grab a slice of pepperoni pizza in the adjoining pizzeria if puckish. Also technically East Village, but within easy walking distance.
• Best Museum. You have two hours to see a museum in the Lower East Side. Which will it be – New Museum or Tenement Museum? The brand-new New Museum on the Bowery was closed on the day I went to visit, but it seemed real nice, even if New York magazine said it was “over-hyped”. Visiting the Tenement Museum (108 Orchard Street, between Delancey and Broome) is like stumbling onto the set of Martin Scorsese’s Gangs of New York – as well as being an invaluable reading aid to anyone with a passing interest in a certain kind of New York novel, i.e. anything written by Henry Roth or Michael Chabon.
• Best Knish. I’ve only ever had one knish in my life, and it was at Yonah Schimmel’s Knishery (“Hand Made Baked Knishes”) at 137 E Houston St. That’s a travel writer’s job: to pretend to be an expert about things he knows nothing about. But it was delicious. And it seemed very authentic.
• Best Magazine to Read About New York When In New York. On the one hand, there’s the New Yorker, magazine of choice for picking up hipster librarians on the Subway. (Here’s how you do it: read said magazine on the Subway, wearing something hip and distinctive. Go home. Look up ‘Missed Connections’ on Craigslist. Wait… Keep waiting…) On the other hand, there’s New York magazine, whose cover in the issue I picked up while there was emblazoned with the headline “Post-Crime,” about the city’s historically low crime figures.
• Safest Neighbourhood in Manhattan. According to the the aforementioned New York magazine article, definitely not the Lower East Side, which boasted in 2007 two murders, seven rapes, 215 robberies, 121 assaults and 114 burglaries. Please bear in mind: I quote these figures not to alarm but to inform. These are historically low figures. You are more likely to have your tongue scalded by a Starbuck’s coffee than to be the victim of crime in the Lower East Side (I just made that up, but it’s probably true). Incidentally, a quick perusal of the figures suggests the safest neighbourhood in Manhattan is probably Chelsea (where hipsters go to die, and where the score is 0, 8, 144, 151, 108).

Finally, here is my “Favourite Cheesy Thing to do in New York.” This has nothing to do with the Lower East Side, but the winner is the Empire State Building, hands down, for the view that really makes you understand why hipster hero Kurt Vonnegut called Manhattan ‘Skyscraper National Park’.

–Alex Landragin

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s New York City tours & things to do in New York. And if you haven’t already entered Viator’s NYC Rock ‘n’ Walking Tour contest, then a hipster you are not.

Why we travel: The View from Viator (click here)

Editor’s Note: At Viator we are big fans of Vagabondish: The Travelzine for Today’s Vagabond. So much so that we’ve agreed to swap posts on the critical question of “why we travel.” The following is by Amanda K, an Australian travel addict, writer and English teacher who’s visited more than 30 countries. Also check out her personal blog - Not A Ballerina.To read the Viator reply to Amanda & Vagabondish, click here.

Not everyone who travels becomes a travel addict. There are those people who are happy to take the odd vacation now and again, do a little sightseeing, perhaps tentatively try a new food, but are happier at home in their living room, attending to their garden or catching up with their friends on a regular Friday night at the pub.

I am not one of those people. And if you’re reading this, the chances are that you’re not one of those people, either.

Remind me: Why do we travel?

So why do we travel? And why do we just have to keep traveling? Traveling is an expensive, time-consuming hobby. I don’t dare to try to calculate how much money I’ve spent on my travels over the years. And what do I have to show for it? A few insights, some pretty photos, friends dotted around the globe who I send occasional emails to… is that a good return on investment?

I guess what I’m saying is that there is some almost inexplicable force that keeps travelers getting on planes, booking vacations and daydreaming about their next destination. It’s a strong force that’s pretty much impossible to fight.

Here’s my own personal philosophical take on why we travel: we’re trying to improve ourselves. It sounds all very noble, although perhaps it’s not what any of us are actually thinking as we rattle across Russia in a train or swallow fried cockroaches in Thailand, but I think that might be the basis of it all.

Why we travel: Expanding our comfort zone

One aspect of this is expanding our comfort zones. That’s what makes travelers different from the people who prefer to stay home – you really only test the barriers of your comfort zone when you’re in foreign countries, faced with complicated decisions and multitudes of new impressions. While confronting yourself with new challenges might partly be an adrenalin issue (if you can compare trying to find the bus station in Sousse, Tunisia with bungee jumping), I think it’s also part of an inner desire to push yourself to somehow be better, more capable of meeting challenges, to have an “I can do anything” attitude.

To be frank, I consider myself a pretty cowardly person. I won’t ride a rollercoaster if it loops upside-down, I’ll shriek if I see a small spider and I get scared before making a speech in front of my colleagues. But others see me differently, because they watched me give up a good job to travel the world with no particular plan, they know that I traveled across Russia without meeting more than two or three other foreigners, and they even think I’m brave for eating some of the more unusual Japanese foods.

Why we travel: Understanding the world

Another side of the self-improvement idea is that travelers might have an innate sense of wanting to understand the world better. The more I travel and the more foreign people I meet, the more I realize that they’re not foreign at all, and people are really the same the whole world over. Because I teach English as a second language, I get a double dose of that – in my classroom I’ll have Colombians sitting next to Koreans, Russians next to Taiwanese, and they inevitably become firm friends.

Is it too big an idea to say that if everyone was able to travel extensively we’d be able to achieve world peace? Sure, it’s a big call, but maybe there’s something in it: if everybody got to experience more of those special friendships with people from all different countries, races, religions and beliefs, perhaps a whole lot more barriers would be broken down and we could achieve a bit more harmony. Or at least we could shed a lot of the negative stereotypes we hold about other nationalities.

Why we travel: Avoiding materialism

I’m not sure whether this is a cause or effect of the force that makes us travel, but it seems to be bound up in it somehow: travel addicts are mostly people who are trying to avoid getting caught up in the materialist traps that our society sets for us. Yes, it’s lovely to have a lot of nice belongings, but we all know the research that suggests people from developing countries who basically have nothing are intrinsically happier than we are.

Unfortunately, I’ve always been a bit of a hoarder. Not of expensive material goods (I’ve never owned a brand new car, for example) but of sentimental belongings like books, clothes, souvenirs and old letters. Of course, I had to live without all of this stuff during my time abroad. I learned that I really don’t need it all. And I especially don’t need a wardrobe full of new clothes, the latest and best computer or stereo equipment, or an expensive leather sofa.

So why do we keep traveling?

The result of all this is that once we get the travel bug, we can’t give it up. And that’s because all of these goals that we’re either consciously or subconsciously trying to achieve are almost unattainable.

Once you expand your comfort zone, the new, the exciting and the dangerous become comfortable. So then you have to start all over again and find other ways to stretch yourself outside of your (now enlarged) comfort zone.

You will never fully understand the world. There are too many people in too many different places, and on top of that, the world is constantly changing. You might come to grips with how middle-aged Germans see the reunification of the former East Germany and West Germany, but then there’ll be a new generation of Germans who grew up in a unified country and have a completely different perspective.

Western society in particular revolves almost entirely around materialism and consumerism. Since I moved back to Australia, I’ve been astonished at how many shopping catalogs land in my letter box, how many people are crowded into shops to grab the latest products, and – more scarily – how tempted I’ve been to join them. Perhaps I need some more traveling to remind myself how little stuff you really need to be happy.

A Caveat: It’s OK to stay home, too

Just in case you’re a non-traveler and you’re reading this too: I’m not saying that those who stay at home aren’t trying to improve themselves too. I bet they do in a million ways that travel addicts like me would never understand. They might even end up with a much healthier bank balance than me, and a bunch of multi-cultural friends in their own city. Part of me wishes I could be like you, and then I wouldn’t feel unsettled every time I stay home for any extended time. But I’m a travel addict, and I don’t think there’s any program to cure it.

–Amanda K.

Once you’ve stayed in to bat for while in the Northern Territories (NT), the score can become a little familiar. (Warning: skip this cricket metaphor if you’re not Australian — like even if it’s a long innings, you should have declared a while ago because the other team, in this case the Territory, is never going to admit defeat.)

There are two real ways to fix an overly long stay in the Northern Territory. Number 1 is to leave, and the second follows on where the first leaves off, but with a twist. Number 2 is, you leave and come back.

It’s like this. Recently I was talking about a fella called Dave (his real name) with a fella called Matt (not his real name) in Alice Springs, after I heard Dave was leaving. Matt of course ventured that Dave would probably come back.

Matt added that Dave might return to the NT’s greener pastures “because he’ll realise it’s too hard down South.” Smarter blokes than I have set off for a grand repatriation with the wider world beyond the Territory’s tiny shores. More than you’d expect have been back at the pub again warming the same stool months, or even weeks, later. They lope back into town like a dingo with his tail between his legs.

Queensland: The road to success

To give you an insight into this migratory behaviour, let’s step across the border — say to Queensland (because if you head west, there’s certainly more reason to stay put and never go anywhere — but that’s a story to warm a campfire audience another time).

You might remember in a blog long ago, we headed up from Alice Springs to Tennant Creek and reached Three Ways (where you can go by road in three directions, as long as you count the one you came by as One). From there it’s a hop, skip and a jump over to the Barkly Homestead and north was the way to go if you fancied a date with Heartbreak.

Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter

But should you plough on east, you’ll hit the Queensland border and gain yourself half an hour as the time zones make their invisible shuffle backwards on terrestrial planes. You’ll have to put your social mores and attitudes back 10 years to match the more conservative political landscape of Queensland — which, when you add in the 20 years of progress you lost in NT, puts you at least 30 years behind the rest of the civilised world.

On from the border waits the tiny town of Camooweal — just giving you a hint at some of the fine names to come. There’s not a great deal to do in ‘Cammers’, although you can do it a bit more often now they’ve put the bridge over the Georgina River (which means you can make the crossing all through the wet season). Should you be a keen speleologist there are caves nearby, but they’re a little dangerous if you’re not used to the underground. If you plan your journey in advance, book yourself some downtime at Lawn Hill National Park – they only take a set number of visitors a year, and it is one of the true tropical wonders of the country.

Mount Isa is the first big jewel that will pass by your interstate wheels — after the 600km from Tennant Creek, it’s the biggest town you’ll see for a while. Mount Isa itself is home to the aptly names “Sulphide Street”, a clear sign that Isa is a booming mining town. The sunsets can be beautiful, though not for entirely the right reasons. The caravan park is out near the airport.

The drive from Mount Isa to Cloncurry is definitely in my Top 10 Top Stretches of Australian Highway. Sweeping turns amidst majestic hills and razor peaks; after driving through that flat country for what seems like forever it’s a welcome and breathtaking relief. Cloncurry is another smallish town, slowly growing and now offering some café-style action and the op shop there has always been good.

Deep into the Golden Tale of Myth

Now, for argument’s sake, we’ll head south-east: away from all that Great Barrier Reef, Whitsundays, Daintree palaver that you could read about from some reputable travel writer. Because if it’s Outback you want, then it’s the golden tale to end them all that you’ll get down this road.

Winton: Dino wheely trash bin

Like most Australians you probably don’t know the second verse of our national anthem (“Advance Australia Fair” – really, what does that mean??). But you’d probably be able to hum more than just a few bars of the unofficial flag-raiser “Waltzing Matilda”. The birthplace of this venerable bastion of outback poetry, penned by A.B. “Banjo” Patterson, lies somewhere along the Matilda Highway, down the track from Kynuna or near Winton, depending on which story you believe.

The exact waterhole is still a bone of contention, but the story is clear. Banjo was a lawyer on the great shearers strike some 100 years or so back, and be penned the verse following a “swagman” putting a “jumbuck” in his “tuckerbag” (travelling old fella stole a sheep, plain English y’see). The rest is literary history and a handy thing to hum at the opening of an Olympic Games.

Winton, Jewel of Queensland

If you truly don’t believe a word of this, then check out Winton for yourself. One side of the street the roadside garbage bins are shaped like old barrels, a nod to the Waltzing Matilda heritage, and on the other, the bins are shaped like dinosaur feet, replete with dew claw. See, makes perfect sense.

The second sustaining truth that gets some logic from this observation was the discovery of the only dinosaur stampede ever found, just 100km south of Winton (although a bloody long time ago). Legend has it that Truckosaurus belted out onto a big, open plain and scared the willys out of all the local pint-sized monsters and local history was once again created from their fleeing footprints.