Where raw travel meets raw talent. Sometimes! Not just another travel magazine! Special Collectors’ Edition! www.theglobalvoyagers.com
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It’s a strange time to launch a travel magazine, I hear you say? What with yet another mutation of the virus popping up, the closure of The Sunday Times Travel Magazine, the hollowing out of newspapers’ travel supplements, the collapse of numerous travel agents and tour operators (STA Travel anyone?), the repeated cancellation (two years in a row: 2020 and 2021) of Condé Nast Traveller’s Luxury Travel Show , the postponement all the way to 2023 of the Destinations Travel Show and the cancellation of the New York Times ’ Travel Show after 17 years?
This is where I hasten to add that Global Voyagers is NOT a travel magazine. If anything, we have an ambivalent attitude to travelling. While we do enjoy it in moderation, we’re not thrilled with what unnecessary and excessive travelling-byair does to the environment. We do, however, realise that some air travel (such as in emergencies) will always be necessary. What ISN’T necessary is mass tourism and, worse, shitheads (you know who you are) who offer holidays using private aircraft... & the shitheads who go on these trips. Could there be a more grotesque example of entitlement and disregard for the environment in this day and age?
Edition www.theglobalvoyagers.com#1
We firmly believe that governments should heavily tax (tax revenue in turn should be set aside for environmental conservation and regeneration) those who go on multiple holidays. In an ideal world, we should be able to avail of one tax-free holiday per year but the rest should be taxed. Yes, I know, this will decimate the travel industry but the world really doesn’t need thousands of travel agents and tour operators, especially those who cater to the rich and superrich. If you’re rich enough to fly Business Class, First Class or in a private aircraft to your holiday destination you’re definitely rich enough to be taxed heavily. We don’t mean to come across as “The Leftwaffe” and nor are we trying to put a “Woke choke” on you. We just feel very strongly about the environment...and make no apologies.
So, what exactly is Global Voyagers? Well, we’re still trying to figure that out! This is just our first (and second) issue so we’re trying to find a shape. Then again, we might just evolve in different directions with each issue! Rarely has uncertainty and lack of focus been so exciting! Heck, I’m still drafting the final version of this editorial, just hours before we’re supposed to “go live”! We’re out there on the edge and the odds are against us but, fuck it, that’s the way we want it!
What the magazine definitely is is a billet doux to travel-writing, à la Paul Theroux, William Dalrymple, V.S. Naipaul, Eric Newby, Mark Shand, Alexander Frater and... Hunter S. Thompson (!) to name a few. We’re also a literary magazine. We adore reviewing travel writing both old and new and we’re more likely to review quaint little bookshops and cafes in Dharamsala/McLeodganj than we are glossy and sterile resorts in the Maldives.
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We all enjoy holidays and we should make the most of them but we have no God-given right to fly away on holiday every few weeks. Our writers use trains as much as possible and we restrict our long-haul research trips to no more than three per year.
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articulate different voices and points of view. The last thing we want is to subject readers to the ‘same-article-different-magazine’ syndrome! Those who’ve read the March 2022 issue of National Geographic Traveller and the February/ March 2022 issue of Wanderlust will know what I’m talking about: check out the almost identical feature on Nepali cuisine in both magazines!
We’re wry observers of trends in the travel industry, especially its ironies and hypocrisies, such as rampant Brexiteers, desperate to go on holiday to Europe, clamouring for the removal of travel restrictions!; Arab airlines tripping over themselves to increase connectivity with China despite the treatment of the Uighurs in Xinjiang.
Ourmagazine.magazine
We might be one of the world’s smallest magazines but our ethics and transparency are unimpeachable: we do not accept free trips, accommodation or meals from vendors. We always pay for our trips and extras. This allows us to be an objective and critical source that helps you travel safely, economically and with minimal damage to the environment.
Each issue will have features mixing travelwriting with history, anthropology, politics... and any other discipline we can think of! We don’t believe in restrictions. After all, we see ourselves as iconoclasts and make it a point to
You’ll shortly notice the total absence of advertisements, ‘sponsored content’ and ‘promotional features’ in the magazine. This is a conscious and deliberate decision. We wanted to provide our readers with nothing but outand-out content, cover to cover, rather than a magazine carrying paid-for “padding” and, basically, indistinguishable from a travel agent’s or tour operator’s brochure... or from an in-flight
is driven by the curiosity of our readers and the passion, talent and experiences of our writers. I would just like to extend a big thank you to the current batch for their effort, skill and, most importantly, faith in the magazine. I’m envious of your skills and wealth of experiences! I look forward to receiving your next tranche of features.
The journalism racket is, as many of you realise, a closed clique. It’s very difficult to get your work published, even more so when it comes to travel-writing. We’ve decided to break the clique wide open. We invite submissions from anyone and everyone. We know there’s a lot of talent out there and there are many people out there who’ve had varied and interesting experiences. We’d love to hear from you and, if we run your feature, pay you for it.
Thanks for putting up with my stream-ofconsciousness-shot-from-the-hip tirade masquerading as an editorial! I’ll let you get on with the magazine now! Stay safe and have a wonderful Christmas and New Year!
4. InterTales: Prague + ‘Let It Roll’ Festival -Jacob Kohn
6. An Accidental Pilgrimage -Simon Birinder
9. Eat Well In Venice -Chloe Lay
11. A Golfing Odyssey Around Perth -Kenneth Fairweather
8. Exploring Zaanse Schans -Ali Halit Diker
Britain might have left the EU but many of us still feel connected to Europe and continue to admire her cultures and histories, which is why we will always be a Euro-centric magazine. In that context, Global Voyagers is a resounding ‘Fuck you!’ to despots, bigots, xenophobes, homophobes, Brexiteers and cliques. Did we just break the record for most expletives in an editorial? See, we ARE different!
2. From Dusk to Dawn in Las Vegas -Tate Gronow
7. The Trees That Wear Bracelets -Emily Duchenne
13. Asuncion’s Colonial Heritage -Simon Cooper
16. I Was Never in Tulum -Jason Russell
3. Puttus and Pandi Curry... The Story of Kodova Cuisine -Rituparna Roy
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Contents:
12. The Many Faces of Mojacar -Rebecca CracknelI
18. Book Review: ‘The Global Soul’ -Pico Iyer
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17. Philanthropic Tourism -Rebecca Hawkins
10. Failte -Helen Grant
1. Medieval Eze: An Unexpected fairy tale of the feminine -Georgia Smith
5. Secret Edinburgh -Michael Tucker
14. Ravishing Rhodes Sets the Trend for the Greek Islands -Suzanne Lane
The travel industry and the travel-writing industry aren’t known for their ethics. However, Global Voyagers is different. We will not be running any features on countries with questionable human rights and/or labour rights, which is why you will never see a feature on, say, Saudi Arabia in the magazine (we’ll let the sycophantic and amoral travel magazines and their tour operator/travel agent buddies do the bidding for the likes of the KSA, Russia, China, Burma, Brunei, Qatar, Israel etc.,).
Over time, our readers will come across a wealth of varied content (City Guides, Reviews, and a Concierge service, for example) on our website. From 2023 onwards, we’ll even start producing our own documentaries, which will be free to download for our subscribers. Oh, and we’ll be launching our own anthology of travel writing in 2022. Subscribers will receive a free copy, of course. Being a subscriber-friendly magazine, we’ve decided to make this issue free; it is, after all, the festive season! Think of this as our Christmas present to you! You’re welcome! All we ask in return is that you travel (by air) sparingly and responsibly.
15. Hanoi Rocks! - Thrusha Maharaj
An unexpected fairytale of the feminine
When we arrive at the bottom of the village, we step off the bus and begin scanning the crowds for Rita. Mum tells me, ‘There’s a perfume factory here somewhere. I’ve never been - we always completely ignored it.’ She
W aiting at the bus stop, my mum tells me that when she lived in Monaco in the 1980s she and four or five friends would routinely pile into her tiny Allegra and set off to Eze in an unruly mass, looking forward to a day of exploring its tiny streets, many cafes, and probably tracking down a quaint French bar or two. I don’t doubt we’ll find a bar by the end of the day, but our trip promises drinking in more scenery than alcohol.
sun by taking us up along the coastline, with fantastic views of the Cote D’Azur and dry Meditterannean landscape along the way. The dry, dusty ground speeding past the window looks like it couldn’t remember what rain was if it tried, and the dry, spiky trees clinging onto the cliff edge cut dramatic shapes against the searing blue sky and sea. Despite the obviously modern tarmac road winding out like licorice ahead and behind us, it’s easy to picture this exact scene languishing in the same, still heat millennia ago.
It’ll be cooler up in Eze,’ mountainpromises,Mum‘it’sairupthere.
Today we’re travelling up on the bus, and have been waiting for what seems like forever in the stifling heat of Monte Carlo. I’m steadfastly facing the right side of my body towards the sun in an effort to make it match the burnt left side, and even my coolest summer dress feels like a cloying winter jumper. ‘It’ll be cooler up in Eze,’ Mum promises, ‘it’s mountain air up there.’ I feel like I’m melting. I’ve always loved travelling with Mum, but she is a sun goddess with permanently tanned skin and with my fair Celtic heritage, I’m just not built for the heat. We’re meeting mum’s friend Rita in Eze, who is Irish, and despite having spent the last 30 years living between Eze and Monaco (and therefore being used to the summer heat) I hope she’ll understand my pain.
The bus makes up for arriving late and forcing me to spend an extra 20 minutes baking in the
Medieval Eze:
Writer: Georgia Smith
After one more hairpin bend we step off the tarmac and onto cobbles as we arrive in the village, heading under a stone arch and up some narrow steps before emerging into a cool stone courtyard next to a tall, peach coloured church.
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Picture copyright Georgia Smith
Picture copyright Georgia Smith
As we make our way along the winding path up to the village, we wander past a spice market giving off multiple, intermingling scents and aromas - somehow still overpowered by lavender, a seemingly ever present scent everywhere in France. Rita tells us all about the place as we meander along, explaining how Eze village is what’s known as a ‘living village’; the people who own property there also live and work there, keeping the village alive and stopping it from turning into a ghost town.
doesn’t point in any particular direction as she tells me this so I don’t try to look for the fabled perfume factory, but I do take in the scenery. The road is bustling and hot, wider than the narrow Monegasque streets flanked by tall, white buildings. It feels a million miles away. Compared to the commerciality of head-in-theclouds Monte Carlo with all its classy, clean, quiet streets and distinctly unclassy casinos, bars, and reputation, Eze feels like an authentic place with its feet on the ground. There are lots of tourists, but also lots of locals and the atmosphere of a robust, permanent town compared to Monte Carlo’s slightly melancholic sense of transience and superficiality.
I think about the Italian initiative of selling abandoned village properties for 1 Euro if the buyer commits to living there for a number of years. I like the idea of a similar approach being implemented preventatively.
After recognising Rita by her cheery wave, we don’t have long to take in the ordinariness of the lower Eze town. Our destination is the medieval Eze village, just a short (but steep) walk away up the side of the mountain.
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doors to make you feel like it may be populated by witches and elves. It’s as quintessentially French as you could hope for - and very lush. The landscape around Eze, stretching out between Nice and Monaco, is hardly arid but it is characteristically Meditteranean - a little spiky, dry, and brittle. Medieval Eze has luscious trees with wide branches casting pools of deep shade which give the town fresh air and a feeling of space and calm between the lively cafes and bustling crowds. The streets are bursting with independent art shops, their wares spilling out of their stone doorways and the scent of their perfumed air mixing with the smells of cooking drifting down every cobbled lane.
Its location only betrayed by a gold-lettered sign, the world famous hotel ‘Chateau Eza’ hides amongst the winding streets. Until 1976, it was named ‘The Castle of the Swedish Prince’, and was occupied by Prince Guillaime - a prolific writer whose old suite is now a luxury penthouse for modern day royalty and more than a few well-off newlyweds. The Chateau has changed ownership many times, but always maintained its air of mystery - the palace turned destination is not open to the general public, and one can only gaze longingly at the tiny wooden door
The first thing I notice outside of the particular quietness, and the coolness of the smooth pink flagstones, is a statue. A bronze woman, surrounded by stone and plants and standing casually as if enjoying the sun, she is sculpted with cracks and gaps in the metal that are reminiscent of baked desert earth. She looks so confident, in her element, and so unexpected - this beautiful, modern depiction of a naked woman in a quaint medieval village looking as if she was grown there. Mum and Rita continue walking and chatting, but I hang behind to take a few pictures of the fascinating artwork before running after them, my sandals slapping on the Eze’scobbles.bougainvillea-draped, winding streets and secret corners are peppered with beautifully painted shop signs, cafes that could be on a postcard, and enough crooked, tiny wooden
Prince Guillaime - a prolific writer whose old suite is now a luxury penthouse for modern day royalty and more than a few well-off newlyweds
That was very French’, I commented as she elegantly thrust our plates in front of us, turning to walk away almost before she’d let go
France
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We stop for lunch in a tiny cafe tucked away on a terrace almost hidden by vines, squashed into tiny cushioned benches at a rickety wrought iron table that’s clinging on to stability for dear life. The cooking is done in a tiny, homely window by one woman, who still presented the food as if it were a five star restaurant. ‘That was very French’, I commented as she elegantly thrust our plates in front of us, turning to walk away almost before she’d let go. As per my habit, I had ordered the sweetest crepe on the menu and it is, as usual, the right choice.
that shuts the world out from its chateautheterrace.exclusiveIt’snotonlyEzewith a dramatic past; local rumour has it that nearby Chateau L’Aguetta (built by the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson) was last owned by an English gambler who, owing money to the infamous Monte Carlo casinos, committed suicide. I learn that it is now for sale.
After lunch, we make our way to the top of the village where we find the entrance to the Jardin Exotique.
Picture copyright Georgia Smith
On entering the Jardin, we are greeted by the first of fourteen ‘earth goddess’ sculptures, created by JeanPhillipe Richarde. The statues follow a traditional image of femininity, embodying elegance and harmony in roughly hewn stone. Set against the backdrop of the Jardin, their
Express Gondola Telecabine panoramique Navette du centre de villegiature Resort Shuttle PLACE AutobusVOYAGEURSDESmunicipal Municipal Bus BERNARDPLACESAINT-PROMENADEDESLAURIERS Clinique medicale Medical clinic TREMBLANTVIEUX Le GratuitCabriolet/Free SAINT-BERNARDCHAPELLE RuedesRemparts Ch.de I’ Hermite CheminKandaharChemindelaChapelle LacMiroir CheminAu-Pied-delaMontagneReservedlaneforbuses Voiereserveeauxautobus ChemindesVoyageurs RueCureDeslauriers ChemindesVoyageurs Flying Mile A A B C D E F F G Homewood Suites per Hilton2 Condos La Chouett Reception situee au / Front desk located at Le Lodge de la Montagne 4 Marriott Residence Inn3 Country Inn & Suites5 Place Saint-Bernard6 Le Johannsen6A Le Deslauriers6B Promenade Deslauriers7 Le Lodge de la Montagne8 La Tour des Voyageurs I9A La Tour des Voyageurs II9B Le Westin Resort & Spa10 Le Sommet des Neiges11 Le Bondurant12 Vieux-Tremblant15 Place des Voyageurs18 Chalet des Voyageurs19 Center des Congres Tremblant21 Valet ski22 Acces au Sommet Access to the Summit 23 FrontReceptiondesk Tremblant Sunstar 16 Galerie Immobilier Intrawest Intrawest Real Estate Gallery 17 Pavillon Immobilier Intrawest Intrawest Real Estate Pavillon 20 Reception / Front desk Le Johannsen, Le Deslauriers 14 L’Eemitage-du-Lac (Ouverture septembre 2004 / Opening Septembre 2004) 13 Fairmont Tremblant1 Ecole sur neige Tremblant Tremblant Snow School A Club des Jeunes Kidz Club B Aire BeginnerEquilibrearea “Equilibre” C Center Activityd’ActivitesCentreD Center Equipmentd’equipementAventure-LocationActivityCentre-rentalE Piste multifonctionnelle : ski de fond seulement Multi-functional trail: cross-country skiing only F Aquaclub La SourceG TremblantLac 1 2 3 4 5 6 6A 6B 7 8 10 11 12 13 14 15 20 21 22 23 1716 18 19 9A 9A 11 9 VIP Eze Village VersantNorthNordSide 12 km (7.5 miles) Remontee mecanique Chairlift Stationnement Parking Guichet automatique Automatic teller machine Service a la clintele Guest services Telephone public Public phones Toilette publique Public restrooms Acces pour skieurs Ski access Patinoire Skating rink Piste de ski de fond Cross-country skiing trail Centre d’information Information Center Boite aux lettres Mailbox Adapte partiellement Partly accessible Navette - autobus Shuttle - Bus Adapte Accessible Sens unique One-way Inspired by: uploads/2013/10/Mont-Tremblant-Village-Map.jpghttps://alpineadventures.net/wp-content/ Global VoyagerS | 9
plants to be seen. I know it must simply be drifting up from the spice vendors below, but it feels like it comes from the atmosphere itself, as much a part of the garden as the view or the still air. It all lends the Jardin a sense of being apart; the mysterious statues, the unexpected scents wafting through the hot air and overriding the simple smell of hot earth, the pools of icy water throwing copper shadows onto cacti as the sunlight reflects off the coins resting at the bottom. Every corner offers something new to one sense or another - from tasting the dust in the air to admiring the sunlight sparking off the sea - distracting me so completely from one hairpin bend to the next that each turning feels like entering a new garden.
Even here, the scent of lavender seems to follow us, though there isn’t one of the delicate purple
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Picture copyright Georgia Smith
femininity is intended to make them at one with the presence of Mother Nature.
It cultivates an air of wilderness and mystery with its labyrinthine pathways, secret corners, and cool pools of water dyed orange by coins - all accented by the earth goddesses around every corner.
Despite being a modern garden, the Jardin Exotique maintains the magic of medieval Eze. It cultivates an air of wilderness and mystery with its labyrinthine pathways, secret corners, and cool pools of water dyed orange by coins - all accented by the earth goddesses around every corner. At every turn of the path, Mum and I can’t help but stop and stare at the stunning blue of the ocean. ‘You can see why it’s called the Cote D’Azur, can’t you?’ Mum comments.
Each sculpture is accompanied by a placard with her name, and a verse describing what they are thinking about. Pregnant Justine (or Isis) stands near the entrance to the garden, her verse reading ‘You have recognised me… I am the same, yet different’. Later, Charlotte peeps out from behind some cacti, hers reading ‘Hush! You know nothing of my thoughts behind the curtain of my eyes.’ Margot rises up from low lying palm fronds, holding her hair seductively off the back of her neck and staring cheekily at the onlooker - her placard says ‘Follow me young man, and you shall know all my secrets...almost.’ Their faces are open to the world, peaceful, and their posture makes them entirely at home in the garden, gazing at the people walking past or out over the sea.
At the top of the Jardin Exotique, we reach the ruins of Chateau de Eze. The settlement at Eze dates back to the iron age, and the 14th century Chateau, perched on the very top of the cliff, has a rich history. The area was occupied by the Romans, the Moors, and then conquered by William de Provence in 973. In the 14th century, the village was fortified and the castle built by the House of Savoy - then fought over by the French and the Turkish until 1706, when Louis XIV ordered its destruction during the war against the Spanish. Eze only became an official part of France in 1860, and all that remains of the castle walls today are a few pale ruins clinging to the top of the cliff.
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The castle ruins themselves are a little marred by that fine yellow gravel that coats the walkways of so many historical sites such as Athens’ Acropolis, Rome’s Colosseum, or Vienna’s Schonbrunn palace. Though I love sitting and admiring the lemon yellow flowers springing from cracks in the ruined stonework, this is the only part of Eze that feels like a museum, and slightly static - but nothing can take away from the view from up here. The few remaining walls stand perilously on the edge of the cliff, cutting dramatic lines against the sky, and protecting a further few delicate feminine statues.
Picture copyright Georgia Smith
The settlement at Eze dates back to the iron age, and the 14th century Chateau, perched on the very top of the cliff, has a rich history.
I have always loved sculpture, happy to while away hours at a museum boring my companions with facts and stories about whatever classical statue I’ve dragged them to see. I love how stone can capture a moment of movement, depict softness and hardness, stillness and fluidity, urgency and calm. I am always captivated by the flesh of Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, the delicacy of the draped dresses over the thighs of the Erechtheum’s Karyatid figures, or the almost feral drama of Skopas’ Raging Maenad.
Her gaze is calm, thoughtful, yet somehow resolute - she seems utterly self assured and absorbed in her thoughts.
I feel similarly enchanted by Barbara, as she stands confidently in the sun at the edge of a ruined wall, eyes closed in joy against the wind coming in off the water: ‘the wind clings onto my skin, These stray locks matter little, I am daughter of Aeolus’, her placard reads.
I feel drawn to one elegant silhouette in particular. Melisande looks out over the mountains and ocean to the western horizon, her placard reading ‘Who has dreamt of me? who has created me? To whom have I said ‘yes’?’ Following her gaze across the sea from the ruins of the castle, I feel like an intruder. I step back, noticing the breeze flutter my hair as it would hers if she were as alive as she looks. There is something captivating about her slender figure gazing out over the sea, more so than any other statue so far. Her gaze is calm, thoughtful, yet somehow resolute - she seems utterly selfassured and absorbed in her thoughts.
to chatter and enjoy each other’s companyoblivious to the tourists and the heat baking the dilapidated castle walls around them.
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But I am enchanted by Richarde’s simple, deliberately rough hewn female figures in a deeper way that surprises me. Especially when gazing out to sea with Melisande, I feel aware of her apart-ness - in her thoughts, but also as a woman. Her caption (‘Who has dreamt of me? who has created me? To whom have I said ‘yes’?’) heightens the sense of her awareness that despite her solitary moment of quiet calm
The bold, solitary poses of these two are accented by the nearby group of three statues, who face away from the walls and the view, appearing
Picture copyright Georgia Smith
Source:
she lacks agency, and lives a life she has little control over. Opposing yet similar is Barbara; how could the simple act of standing atop a cliff and staring with joyous defiance into the open sea feel so confident, come with such a sense of recklessness, if she had nothing to rebel against? Each elegant slip of a statue seems to be claiming a small freedom: Charlotte enjoys the secrecy of
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/57/Èze_und_Cap_Ferrat-Grande_Corniche.jpg Global VoyagerS | 13
her thoughts; Margot cheekily enjoys the power she holds over a male onlooker, knowing he will never fully know her. Justine calmly emanates the solitary power of a body fostering new life. Each statue finds a way to acknowledge the beauty and power of femininity, but also the loneliness and constraints of womanhood. I feel at home in this garden, with these statues.
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Biography of the Writer
Picture copyright Georgia Smith
As I crouch to take one last photo of Barbara framed against the walls and blue sky, Mum calls me to come back down through the garden to regroup with Rita, and I hurry up. Through the journey back down we can’t resist stopping to explore and admire yet more winding paths and hidden pools, and we find yet more earth goddesses hidden away, glowing against dark foliage and harsh stonework. As we eventually exit the medieval village and head back down to the spice market where we started, surrounded once again by the scent of lavender, I can’t help but feel I got an unexpected chance to explore femininity as well as a fairy-tale village today.
I am a freelance writer who loves working with small businesses and creatives as well as writing about my own experiences. I live to explore the world and discover the quirks of different cultures. I studied Classics and Philosophy at the University of Exeter, which means I’m qualified in reading stories and
Up here amongst the ruins, a sign explains the sculptures as ‘quiet and timeless companions’ to a castle visit. Their sense of eternity and quiet calm is part of what sets this medieval village apart; just a stone’s throw from the glitz and inauthentic pomp of Monte Carlo this self-assured, bustling, yet tranquil historic village is a living sculpture clinging to the side of the mountain.
thinking about things (which has come in handy through my career choices as a bookseller and a writer. It was less handy when I worked in an ice cream shop). I am also a rather good singer, but a distinctly mediocre guitar player.
https://thewordsmith.squarespace.com/.
the burnt orange of the Grand Canyon and finally the artificial, plastic sparkle of Las Vegas that splintered through our weary gazes. In true Vegas spirit, a bubblegum pink Kiss Bail Bonds building was planted right by our hostel, the way all of the city’s buildings feel as though they were dropped into their plot in a game of SIMS.
T
From Dusk to Dawn in Las Vegas
he sluggish wheels of our tour bus rolled into the hostel car park as we finished the warm dregs of our beers, skin parched from the Arizona sun and muscles sore from three days hiking and sleeping on thin sponge mattresses. The ten of us on the bus marveled at the landscape morphing from the ashy greens of Joshua Tree to
https://c.pxhere.com/images/df/45/c2380d9614088f9bc58c2d77de8f-1493835.jpg
Source:
Writer: Tate Gronow
wasVegasthethirdstop...
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Vegas was the third stop on a two week hippie style road trip around the West Coast of America in a converted transit bus. The bus could sleep over thirty but luckily we found ourselves in a group of ten for this first leg, and so far had slept comfortably top and tailing in the back, aside from one night under the stars in Joshua Tree among the cumbersome boulders and spiked shrubs. Prior to Las Vegas, we had spent three days in overwhelming natural beauty, with little
to no phone signal, inky black night skies and wildlife peppering the nocturnal soundtrack. In contrast, Las Vegas was an assault on the senses. The contagious, frenzied energy seeped through the bus windows as we saw the city mirage on our way in and we searched for show tickets to kick start the twelve hours we had in this dystopian game-show of a place; at eight the next morning we were leaving for Zion.
Source: https://cutewallpaper.org/21/las-vegas-skyline-high-resolution/Las-Vegas-Strip-Wikipedia.jpg
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The frenetic pace fueled our tired bodies running on adrenalin. I struggled to comprehend the stark difference in the two worlds we’d walked in that day, from the unspoilt, ancient golden earth of the canyon, to the garish, false streets of Vegas. Zumanity did little to ease this clashing. The first Cirque Du Soleil show intended for an adult audience, was hinged on the ludicrous and
We booked to see Zumanity, a Cirque Du Soleil show, that ran from 20032020, and I baulked at spending three days’ travelling budget on a tiny portion of our evening, but already a precedent had been set: everything goes out the window in Vegas. I knew it was unlikely that I would ever return to this place, so I embraced this attitude and intended to drink up every glittering morsel in this city of excess. Our motley crew of travelers headed to the New YorkNew York Hotel, the first stop on our whistle-stop tour where Zumanity was being shown. I felt like I was walking through the set of a play. The artificial, iconic New York streets were my first taste of the real thing - cleaner and with no real New Yorkers - a city I had longed to visit since my teen years and would find myself in the last leg of this trip. Upon visiting the real thing it’s obvious that New York’s people make the city what it is, and minus that, it’s merely a poor doppelganger filled with camera-laden tourists eager to experience a fraction of the real thing, me included. You might be able to fool yourself that you’re in a diner in the East Village until you notice the garish signage and neon lights lacking that unique New York patina.
lavish. Women slid around in giant fish bowls in lacey lingerie, men in leather trousers swung from chains and all eyes were transfixed on the stage, hanging off their every move. The performers eyes were like those in a painting, following you wherever you look, gleaming American smiles cast on their faces that I don’t think wavered for the whole show, surely another part of the performance. But it was entrancing and the audience, ooh’d and aah’d in all the right places - a collective Vegas family. We were in a world, within a world, within another world. After an hour or so, we emerged from the theatre onto the cacophonous, faux East Coast streets slightly delirious and ready to explore.
I struggled to comprehend the stark difference in the two worlds we’d walked in that day, from the unspoilt, ancient golden earth of the canyon, to the garish, false streets of Vegas.
With so little time in this adult Disneyland, we wanted to see as much as we could. We bought syrupy, pre-mixed cocktails the colour of rich jeweled velvets from a liquor store and reveled in the freedom to drink in the streets – I think it was the sugar that sustained our energy for the rest of the night. Las Vegas has some of the most relaxed public alcohol consumption laws, enabling revelers to drink to their hearts’ content as they wander the streets, only adding to the raucous atmosphere. Although I’d only been in the city a matter of hours, I felt a kindred spirit with everyone there. You’re all at the same party with a festival camaraderie. You get swept up in the ridiculousness of it all, drinking up the gaudy, false architecture.
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even the most stubborn of Vegas sceptics to not get tangled in the fantastical, consumerist Butmenagerie.thispace is unsustainable and for me the fog started to clear a few hours in. The buzz mellowed to an overstimulated hangover and the shiny veneer flaked away. Tired of aimlessly walking around we attempted to go to a club before recoiling at the extortionate ticket and drinks prices and clutched our corner shop cocktails a little tighter. In a place that appears limitless we had found the exclusive pockets that favoured certain individuals over others: rich over poor, young over old and women over men. A friend who visited the year before I did couldn’t shake the overt favouring of young women, ‘I remember feeling really commodified as a woman there - queue skipping and free drinks seem great but it quickly feels very seedy’. On one night, her and her friends were speaking to a group of men in the queue for a club when they decided it was taking too long and decided to leave. One man fanned a wad of cash in an attempt to persuade them into the club on the basis that everything would be paid for in their company. They swiftly left the
Atqueue.first
glance everything seems clean and pristine like any replica where the realities of life haven’t had a chance to weather the surfacelacquered floors, plush velvet seating, sparkling fountains and crystal-studded ceilings. But look closer and you start to see the cracks. The drunk, vacant people bolstered by loyal friends, those unable to peel themselves away from the casino betting beyond their means, and the poverty on the periphery of your awareness, everywhere. Another friend noted that the homelessness was particularly confronting in a place where they’ve made the main strip an escape, ‘like a distraction from the sad reality’. In 2020, The Guardian reported on a new law approved by the city council whereby sitting, resting or ‘lodging’
We roamed from one famous hotel to the next. From the curved facade of the Bellagio, to the gondolas of The Venetian, and the Roman grandeur and 600,000 square feet of gleaming shopping malls of Caesars Palace. The whole place is treated like a playground and we leaned in. We climbed on walls for photos, splashed in fountains and sang to songs that came from everywhere and nowhere. I gambled $1 on a slot machine and made $12, I cashed it in immediately, too smug with the begginer’s luck of my profit to risk losing it again (I was clearly never made for this place).
Not wanting to waste time in a restaurant, we ate burgers and fries in what felt like a piazza and I can’t remember noticing if it was outside or contained in one of the sprawling hotel complexes. Fake night skies on ceilings and the abundance of artificial lighting makes it difficult to distinguish the outside from in and time takes on an elastic quality in this place suspended from any reality. The contrived architecture lures you seamlessly from one to the other, funnelling you from shopping mall to casino to outdoor attraction in a bewildering maze. Of course the city was built to do just this, it’s a freak of human-nature and I challenge
Asout.the first splinters of dawn crept over the sky my night came to a welcome end. I found myself with a friend on the outer edges of the centre complexes waiting for a cab to take us back to the hostel. With outdoor escalators, concrete bridges and wide pavements criss-crossing around you, the city seems impenetrable once you’re out of the central bubble and as the crowds quickly waned I felt like a fish out of water looking for the escape.
This city is a polarity in its essence, sandwiched between the all encompassing rugged landscape, most people seem to love it or hate it. It’s an extreme of human intervention. A contrived, consumerist monster that depends on the wavering will of its visitors to keep the capitalist cog turning. Everything is an illusion of something existing somewhere else or a glitzy distraction from the reality at street level. Once you’ve tuned in to this, it’s impossible to tune
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0f/Las_Vegas%2C_Nevada%2C_USA_%285951714693%29.jpg Global VoyagerS | 19
on pavements was punishable with up to six months in prison or a fine of up $1000, and whilst there appear to have been investments in improving homeless services within South Nevada, the journalist Dan Hernandez points out that ‘no one is claiming those are adequate solutions’. The problem continues to be rife.
Fake night skies on ceilings and the abundance of artificial lighting makes it difficult to distinguish the outside from in and time takes on an elastic quality in this place suspended from any reality.
Having never seen the city in the unforgiving, blistering daylight my experience often feels like a fever dream. The city was the antithesis of the natural beauty we experienced either side and perhaps that contributed to the sour taste left by this chaotic adventure. We got a few hours’ sleep before piling back onto the bus to make the three hour trip to Zion and as the landscape plateaued and the horizon crept back into view, the tightly wound spirit of the city dissipated along with any desire to return again.
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-Tate Gronow
I am a writer and Breathwork Coach interested in exploring the things that make us human and how we interact with the world. I also write a weekly newsletter
Biography of the Writer
where I muse on topics including solo travel, cold-water therapy, self-healing modalities and dealing with uncertainty.
Puttus and Pandi Curry... The story of Kodava Cuisine
mmmm, what’s that smell’, I inhaled the spicy aroma drifting out of the kitchen. ‘Wait till you have it’, laughed my friend Jose. Jose and I had connected over food a decade age. He and my cousin brother studied in the same college in Bangalore. But this is not about him. I could not wait further and barged into the kitchen where the caretaker, Peru Ma, was busy putting some spices into the pan. She looked at me and said, ‘Baa, Baa’. It meant ‘come’ in the Kodava language. She had been trying to teach me some basic Kodava words for two days and I must say I was picking them up quite fast. I went and peered into the cooker. The gravy of rich, reddish brown colour
was simmering inside and was letting out fragrant steam. I lowered my head a bit into the cooker and sucked in the
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M
Coorg, India:
Writer: Rituparna Roy
‘Edhearoma.Ente
Source: https://p2.piqsels.com/preview/970/409/221/trail-forest-coffee-plantation-coffea-robusta.jpg
(What is this) Peru Ma?’ I could not contain my curiosity anymore. But Peru Ma was not in a mood to give it away. ‘Melle, slow...slow,’ she said, going back to her work. She gave the gravy a final stir and sprinkled some liquid before giving it a standing time. ‘Dinner will be ready in some time’, she announced without looking at me. I understood that I would only get to know what was cooking at the dinner table. I resigned and settled myself into the chair!
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I had booked for Bed and Breakfast as I usually like to go around any new place and find my food. But since it was quite late at night, Peru Ma kindly arranged for some rice and chicken curry . It was completely different to what my Bengali tongue was used to eating. Bengali chicken curry, an amalgamation of onion, ginger, garlic, tomato at that time felt mild compared to what I was served. There were so flavours,manybutthebalancewasjustright.PeruMatoldmeshehadusedcoconut
I got chatty with her and came to know that she was a Kodava, the original resident of Coorg.
I met the caretaker Peru Ma, a lovely lady in her late 60’s. I got chatty with her and came to know that she was a Kodava, the original resident of Coorg. Most of her family members now lived in Bengaluru, but she had never gone out of the city and loved its tranquillity. I could not agree more. There was a certain amount of calmness around me and I could already feel it.
milk, tamarind extract and poppy seeds in the recipe. It was spicy, a bit tangy but flavoursome. I was intrigued. ‘It is our famous Coli curry’, she said. I could see the pride in her eyes. I knew I had to cultivate more about Kodava cuisine. After all, I was always up for gastronomic
It’s been three days since I have arrived in Coorg, a small hill station in the southern part of India. The after-effect of a long journey from Bengaluru airport had vanished the moment I had stepped in the pristine homestay just outside the city limit of Madikeri. It had a huge black door opening to a widening road going a bit downhill. I stretched myself and then stopped. Wait, was I standing on a valley surrounded by hills? Oh yes, I was! And a beautiful sprawling bungalow with manicured garden and even more beautiful porch seemed to greet me wholeheartedly. There was even a hammock. The beginning told me this was going to be a great story!
Rice & Chicken Curry
Theexperiences!nextmorning
I woke up to the sounds of chirping birds. The morning sun was peeping through the window. Peru Maa was right outside with a cup of ‘Kapi’ she told. I have heard about Coorg being the Coffee capital of India. And now I was all ready to taste it. Coorg Coffee has a long history. It was roughly around the 17th century that Bababadun, a Muslim pilgrim brought in 7 coffee seeds to India illegally from Mecca. He supposedly planted them in the lush green hilly zone of Chikmaglur (a hill station in Karnataka). The result was so spectacular that it captivated the interest of the British people. Soon they started coffee plantations on a huge scale in the vast empty stretches of Kodagu, the erstwhile name of Coorg. Peru Ma handed me the cup of freshly brewed coffee and its invigorating aroma was enough to arrest me. I took the cup, went and sat on the porch looking at the green mountains. Blissful! I said to myself silently.
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Source: https://image3.mouthshut.com/images/imagesp/925064732s.jpg Source: https://image3.mouthshut.com/images/imagesp/925064732s.jpg Kodagu Home
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Perume!Ma’s
Where it all began
‘Kodavas take their food very seriously, food is a part of our tradition’ said Akka. Coorg, a separate state when India became a republic, was later merged with Mysore. It then became a part of Karnataka. But to date, it retains its cultural heritage. Nowhere in the southern of India will you find such diverse food and flavours. Coorg’s geographical position also influences its cuisine. Being a landlocked area with mountains around, it was very difficult for the residents in the early days to procure raw materials for cooking. Hence they mainly relied on local produce and ingredients. At the same time, Coorg is blessed with such a climate that it allows many local ingredients to grow and flourish which are not found in other parts of India. The result is an extraordinary culinary adventure. Interestingly, Kodavas unlike other South Indians are non-vegetarians. Meat, pork, local fish and chicken are part of their daily diet. The reason perhaps lies in their history. Kodavas are primarily descendants of hunter and warrior tribes who inhabited this region many centuries ago. So hunting and gathering came quite naturally to them. They also prefer to use a lot of local spices, wild plants and fruits in their recipe. Even the vegetarian dishes make unique combinations of jackfruit,
Peru Ma joined me. ‘My Kutumba, I mean my family members all worked in Coffee gardens,’ she told me. ‘What about the food? Peru Ma, Kodava Cuisine goes a long way back I have heard,’ Her eyes shone brightly. She got up and said, ‘Manek Ba, come home. Akka, my elder sister, will tell you all.’ I could not wait any further. Some interesting tales were waiting for
house was a typical Kodagu home , 10 minutes from the city centre. I learnt their homes are called ainemane. A narrow winding path led to the main house which opened in a small courtyard and then a verandah. As soon as I entered, a strong aroma infiltrated my senses. It was a mixture of pepper, garlic and ginger. Kumm curry was being cooked informed my companion. Kumm, I got to know was the local name for wild mushroom. Peru Ma’s elder sister came out. She was physically opposite of Peru Ma. Short and plump and had a motherly demeanour about her. She instantly made me at home and brought me a plate of Thaliaputtu . It looked like South Indian Idly. The rice cakes were so soft and fluffy that it melted in my mouth. ‘This is our staple breakfast menu. The rice cakes are fermented overnight with coconut milk. We also make Kootu Curry (mixed
vegetable curry) with this’, said Peru Ma. I was now inquisitive to know more. Kodavas seemed to know their food well!
Thaliaputtu
bamboo shoots, yam, coconut, jaggery, chilli and colocasia leaves. ‘You will see more or less the same cuisine in different parts of Coorg’, said Peru Ma. ‘But there are people like our grandmother who belonged to a small tribe ‘Amma Kodava’ who are hardcore vegetarian,’ added Akka. I was amused. A small district with so much culinary history needed to be preserved and I could see that Kodavas would protect their food history ferociously!
Koovale Puttu
Source: www.indianhealthyrecipes.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/akki-roti.jpg Source: www.pxhere.com Source: www.archanaskitchen.com Source: rsz_kuele13.jpgVCmFtkYUJfI/AAAAAAAANhQ/2kJbHD3AMoQ/s1600/http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-El7thbPR-Xk/ Source: utpJuIwPsxA/s1600/papputtu2.jpghttps://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wK7871sY8f0/Vgr5m9MQo9I/AAAAAAAAKtg/
Puttus, made of rice, I learnt are favourites here. An average Kodagu house always has their Puttus ready. Paaputtu (steamed rice mixed with shredded coconut, milk and sugar), Kadumbuttu (rice flour balls), Nooputtu (thin noodle-like threads), Thaliya Puttu (steamed flat rice cakes, made with coconut milk and fenugreek) and Koovale Puttu (made with jackfruit or ripe banana) hold a special place in the culinary stories of the Kodavas. ‘Generally, the Puttus are eaten with curries or local honey. Will serve you some for lunch,’ Akka’s generosity moved me. The warmth of the people certainly reflects in their dishes. There is an earthiness about them as well as their food. Simple yet with robust flavours, can food be any better, I wondered!
Akki Roti
The Daily Diet
‘Akka get some Akki roti for us,’ Peru ma said. ‘You must taste it,’ she told me. What came was a thin pancake made with rice flour and cooked rice mashed together. Rice is found in plenty in Coorg and so makes its place in the food in a variety of forms. ‘We use Sannakki rice. This has a very special taste and aroma,’ said Akka. There is a local tale of how Sultan of Mysore Haider Ali fell in love with this rice and attacked Coorg around the 1700s!
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Paaputtu
Thaliya Puttu
Kadumbuttu
I had a sumptuous lunch at Peru Ma’s home. Kadumbuttu, which has a slightly rough texture, went so well with the Kumm Curry that I could not stop licking my fingers! Akka also made some Ellu Kanji, a sort of chutney made with roasted sesame seeds. She informed me that Kadambuttu is a must in Kodava weddings. The day before the wedding all the women of the house sit together and make these balls. It is considered a very auspicious ritual among the Kodavas. I also had some Thambuttu as dessert. I am not a banana loving person, but Thambuttu is a different story. Ripe bananas, roasted sesame seeds and grated coconut mixed with ghee is certainly my new favourite!
Eat local, think global
Source: uploads/2020/04/Web-id.jpghttps://famousdishes.in/wp-content/
I left the two sisters for some hearty discussion and went strolling by myself. The Kushal Nagar marketplace was throbbing with people. I stopped at a spice store. The mixed fragrance of cumin, ginger, parangi (tiny bird’s eye chilli), jaggery aroused my senses. I could not stop
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Source: sites/2/2018/04/2-22.jpghttp://www.evolveback.com/coorg/wp-content/uploads/ Source: www.evolveback.com/coorg/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2018/07/Thambuttu-FI.jpg Source: https://i0.wp.com/www.coorgrecipes.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/39_thambuttu.jpg
Kumm ThambuttuCurry
Ghee Rice & Baimbale Curry
myself from buying them. After some more walking, I saw a small eatery just opposite the post office. There was a mini crowd in front of it. The moment someone came out, someone went in to occupy the table. It reminded me of a relay race in school. I glanced at the menu card. It looked so tempting that I decided to wait. Finally, after 15 minutes I got a table. The interior was simple and modest. I ordered a bowl of Ghee rice and Baimbale Curry. The bamboo shoot curry is supposed to be one of the delicacies. During the monsoons, fresh bamboo shoots are collected. The shoots can be frozen for use in later parts of the year. In most of the dishes, spices are roasted and then ground which gives the food a certain amount of richness. Bamboo shoot curry was no different. I never thought a humble thing such as a bamboo shoot can be so delicious! It made me realize how often we neglect our local produce in search of so called premium items!
Ellu Kanji
The Stars and the Superstar
But my main aim was to continue my gastronomic journey. And within these few days, I had probably tried every possible Kodava food. Be it, Kuvale Putt, a simple dish made of jackfruit and rice or KoliChuttadh, grilled chicken with various spices, each food has its distinct taste and smell. I especially liked the Kaipuli, chutney made with wild, a tad bit bitter oranges. But one thing was still left! Probably the most famous of all Kodava dishes… The Pandi Curry. My friend Jose who now stays in Mangalore had warned me not to eat that without him. He was supposed to join me that day. Now what is this Pandi Curry, you may ask. Well, it is the star attraction of the Kodava Menu! I had planned to visit a small boutique restaurant, The Raintree, with Jose to have the Pandi Curry. But that didn’t happen, as I wasn’t aware that Peru Ma had some surprises up her sleeves for me!
Dubare Elephant Camp
For the next three days I was a fully-fledged tourist enjoying every sight and sound of Coorg. From Abbey Falls to Dubare elephant camp, from Mandalpatti peak to Madikeri fort, I tried to squeeze in almost every known and less known place of Coorg. Dubare Elephant Camp surprised me the most. I had so much fun watching them take a bath. The baby elephants were a treat to my eyes. They were happily splashing water on each other. I even fed them banana and sugarcane bits.
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https://live.staticflickr.com/337/20469806585_8586508b3a_b.jpgThedarkbrowncolourofthegravywithporkchunksplayinghideandseekwasenoughtomakemesalivate.
Source:
‘Peru Ma, I can’t wait for any more. What have you cooked?’ I yelled from the dining table. Peru Ma didn’t answer back but brought in a plate of Akki Roti, Kari Bale cutlets (roasted raw banana patties) and a pot of curry. And at that moment, I understood that it was time for my date with Pandi Curry. Peru Ma certainly had a way of showing her affection. I didn’t wait any further. The cutlets were perfect, crispy outside, soft inside. But all astoandchunksgravycolourThedelectable.ItPandionwasattentionmyfocusedtheCurry.lookeddarkbrownofthewithporkplayinghideseekwasenoughmakemesalivate.AndIputitinmymouth
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I was transported to seventh heaven. The pork chunks were juicy, tender and the gravy had just the right amount
of sourness infused by tamarind, pepper and roasted spice. The liquid that Peru Ma added was Kachompuli, a Kodava variant of Balsamic vinegar. It is extracted from Kodambuli fruit and is known to enhance the flavour of meat and chicken especially Pandi curry. As I continued my rendezvous with the succulent pork, Peru Ma added, ‘You must allow the pork to cook in its fat for the curry to be perfect.’ I just fell in love with the pork curry and understood why Gordon Ramsay had even cooked it in his show! Kodava Cuisine was certainly something the world should know. It is unadulterated, rustic and just makes your taste buds come alive. I could see Jose was busy eating without uttering a single word. He looked up only to say that
Source: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/i2OqaDyEj6M/hqdefault.jpg KoliChuttadh SUBRAMANYA SHANIVARSANTHE KODALIPET BETTAGERIPUSHPAGIRI KUTTA PONNAMPET NAGARHOLE GONKOPPAKUSHAL NAGAR SAKALESHPUR HASSANHASSANMYSOREDIST.DIST. WAYAND KANNUR KASARGOD SOMWARPET MAIDIKERI SIDDAPURA VIRAJPET IRRUFALLS TALABHAGAMANDALACAUVERY MUKKODLUSAMPAJE NALKNADPALACE A map Coorgof
wild boar were previously used to cook Pandi Curry! Delicious foods fused with interesting stories, I was glad to have visited Coorg. And now it was my turn to tell those stories. Truly Coorg transcends its unspoilt vistas, coffee plantation, green hills and paddy field; it is more about its culture, its people and of course its cuisine. A cuisine that despite globalization has retained its character and authenticity, and this is something that needs to be celebrated again and again…
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As a journalist with over 11 years of experience, she has worked with the leading lifestyle magazine of Eastern India. She also contributes regularly to little magazines. She had been associated with a children’s E-Magazine as a Senior Editor.
Rituparna Roy wanted to live in a world of books, dark chocolates and coffee. However the only thing she manages now is a keyboard protector to keep away the dirty fingers of her toddler!
Pandi Curry
Biography of the Writer
Source:
Kuvale Putt
A map Karnatakaof Global VoyagerS | 28
NEPAL BANGLADESHBHUTAN MYANMARAFGHANISTANMALDIVESPAKISTANTAJIKISTAN LANKASRI CHINAPUNJABHIMACHALKASHMIRJAMMU&PRADESHHARYANAUTTAR PRADESH MADHYA PRADESH RAJASTHAN GUJARAT MAHARASHTRA TELANGANAPRADESHANDHRA CHHATTISGARH ODISHAJHARKHANDBIHARBENGALWESTSIKKIM MEGHALAYAASSAMMIZORAMMANIPURNAGALANDTRIPURA DELHI DADRA & NAGAR HAVELI TAMIL NADU ARUNACHALPRADESH GOA KERALALAKSHADWEEP(INDIA) (INDIA) UTTARAKHAND KARNATAKA &NAMADNANICOBARISLANDS B ARABIANSEA INDIAN OCEAN A Y O F B E N G A L New Delhi Srinagar Shimla Chandigarh Dehradun Jaipur Gandhinagar SilvassaDaman MumbaiPanajiThiruvananthapuram HyderabadChennaiBengaluru Raipur BhubaneswarKolkata RanchiPatna Lucknow Gangtok ShillongDispur AizawlImphalKohimaAgartala Itanagar DAMAN & DIU PUDUCHERRY (Pondicherry) Kavaratti Bhopal Port Blair (Puducherry)Karaikal (Puducherry)Mahe Yanam(Puducherry)JammuCoorg Mysore A map Indiaof Global VoyagerS | 29
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n the summer of 2018, at 19 years old me and 7 friends took the savings from our various part-time jobs and decided to travel through Europe on an Interrail. For me the highlight of the trip was definitely Prague. Not only did we get to explore the city across the Old Town, around the parks and markets, and walk through the castle, but we also got a taste of the electric nightlife.
I
Writer: Jacob Kohn
And to cap it off we finished our trip with a pilgrimage to the world’s biggest Drum and Bass festival, Let It Roll.
My exploration of Prague began alone. The night before me and the boys had been out in Berlin, and because of one too many drunken arguments, I ended up leaving the group to travel to Prague on my own.
InterTales: Prague + Let it Roll Festival
Any interruption of mine was considered a “schwanzbremse” (look it up), something that I didn’t take kindly to, and then everything came to a head (if you’ll pardon the pun). I think really I was just afraid of being abandoned for the rest of the trip, so my antidote was to leave for Prague by myself. Something that now seems like an act of simple irrational teenage
We had already had a fairly over-the-top argument that involved a couple of thrown rum and cokes at pre-drinks (mostly tragic for wasting a couple of beverages), but after smoothing it over we headed out. They were all single. So, a night out in Berlin was a chance for all of them to try and sew some wild oats. I was and have been in the same long-term relationship since I was 17 years old. Basically, there was a conflict of interest.
Phase 1: Prague
Source: https://live.staticflickr.com/5576/15002305842_240650f694_b.jpg
Now,paranoia.this
So, a night out in Berlin was a chance for all of them to try and sew some wild oats.
Walking from the train station to our accommodation I was immediately struck by the stunning architecture of the city. With the buildings around me giving off a Baroque, Gothic, and Renaissance atmosphere I was immediately entranced by my surroundings. It was all old, a little run down, and pastel coloured, and I fell in love at first sight. I was still annoyed about whatever I was annoyed about, but damn if I didn’t love the way that city looked.
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We arrived at the nightclub, quickly noticing the signs for “Ladies’ Night!”. Needless to say, the rest of the lads were excited at the prospect of being around so many eligible young women. Some of that enthusiasm did seemingly evaporate when the giant male strippers took to the stage, but still, pulling was the name of the game. I was simply happy to laugh at the girls being brought on stage for some simulated stimulation, but my boys had seemingly chosen their marks.
could’ve soured the next couple of days, but really, it’s just what we needed as group for a little reset. When you’re travelling with the same group of lads over the course of a month, tensions and testosterone can run high. It’s hot, you’re rationing your money (and therefore your food), and of course you’re drinking. All the time.
The argument stemmed from my boys simply being boys.
Rather than hold a grudge, however, I went and met my friend (let’s call him Jay), who had joined the trip late and spent the last night in Prague alone. He immediately started railing off stories about the night before, and the cheapness of EVERYTHING in Prague. He had recently come back from a long journey through Asia and South America, and as much as I enjoyed hearing his tales of adventures through Colombia, my attention was on Prague.
Now I wasn’t expecting much from our digs. We had paid less than £60 each for 3 nights in this place, and it was a little away from the centre, so I didn’t think it was going to be much more than a room with a bed and a basic kitchen. How wrong I was.
What was most striking however was the price, namely of beer. They generally cost about a quarter of what they do in England, which was a blinding result. After grabbing enough ingredients, a few breakfast bits, and as many beers as we could carry, we headed over to check out our AirBnB.
On arrival Jay and I were amazed by the size and quality of the AirBnB. Now, I loved the architecture in Prague, but from the outside, places had something of a rustic quality. On the inside, this place was anything but. For less than £20 a night each, we had 8 comfortable beds, a massive dinner table, a stunning kitchen, a big flat-screen smart TV, and even a balcony WITH a fresh herb garden. With modern décor and a classy minimalist vibe, it made us feel like kings. It was a pleasure making that lasagne for my friends in that place, and once they arrived to eat some all ill-feeling from the night before evaporated into happiness with our dinner and accommodation.
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As a peace offering to the main group, me and Jay went to the supermarket and began buying ingredients to make a lasagne. Walking around the Albert Heijn was an experience in itself. Trying to find ricotta in a European supermarket should be easy, but when you’re faced with so many new names for familiar cereals, it’s hard not to get distracted.
Source: Jacob Kohn
One image that will stay with me forever from Riegorvy Sady was a group of deaf-mutes sitting and telling stories together. The group were laidback, with many a dreadlock and sandal between them, joints were being passed back and forth, and they were all hanging off the signed words of a friend in the middle. The way they could communicate so quickly through sign while still being able to display reactions between the group through expression was nothing less than amazing. It genuinely felt like I was witnessing superpowers demonstrated in real life.
The park itself was buzzing with life, people drinking, smoking, laughing and smiling. It was a real indicator of the fun that we had in store. One thing I feel I have to note is that in Prague, cannabis is decriminalised. While I would of course never advocate smoking weed, EVER, it was ‘apparently’ very easy and cheap to get a hold of in that park, and fragrant clouds seemed to rise from many members of the happy public.
But the best thing about where we stayed was the location of Chopinova. While not directly in the centre of Prague, it was only a short taxi ride away, and Ubers could be booked for literally handfuls of change. Trams could be hopped on for less (technically you shouldn’t get on without paying but it’s what the locals do!). Better still was the park across the road.
Source: Jacob Kohn
The Riegorvy Sady park (or Rieger Gardens) will forever hold a place in my heart. From the outer edges appearing like any old park, a short walk through the grounds revealed plenty to get excited about. From outdoor grills and barbecues to a massive beer garden, we knew this park would be a regular stop on our days out. The absolute best thing about Riegorvy Sady was the view. A hill in the park looked down upon Prague’s Old Town and Castle. With a perfect view of the sunset going over the historic city framed by trees on either side, it felt too good to be true.
Source: Jacob Kohn
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Beers were cheap, about £1 a bottle, people were friendly, with cigarettes and joints from strangers seemingly fair game, and the atmosphere was amazing. Prague proved itself an amazing night out, and we hadn’t even gotten to Let it Roll yet. Classics like Aphrodite and
There are even Amsterdam style coffee shops in Prague (not that I would ever spend multiple hours a day in them). They aren’t strictly LEGAL, but if you find the right spot, sit down for 20 minutes, and order a couple of beers, soon enough an owner may share access to their stash. Don’t go in guns blazing and asking for chronic though, as you won’t have any luck.
After our time in Cross Club, we made our way to the main event, where we knew DJ Zinc was playing. While it was a little hard to find at first, within about 10-15 minutes of walking we discovered that the rest of the rave was taking place in a series of old unused air hangars. On arrival we heard the sounds of Drum and Bass, Garage and Jungle music echoing through the place. It felt like home.
Mickey Finn’s Bad Ass, as well as Zinc’s own Blunt Edge echoed through the floor and cemented that night in my memory.
Phase 2: Prague Requiem
By the time we had left Croatia, the group had shrunk pretty significantly. Jay was gone, as were 3 more of my friends. The three of us that remained were broke, tired, and determined to have a good time on our last weekend.
On our second trip to Prague we did not stay in a stunning villa-esque AirBnB. Rather we stayed in the cheapest hostel we could find. No lasagne for us this time. Rather, we sustained ourselves with cereal and the cheapest hot dogs and kebabs that we could find. Now it really felt like travelling. But for all the sacrifices we made in coming back to Prague, we also used this time as our opportunity to really see the Wesights.finally
got to walk around Old Town Square and feel the cobblestones under our feet. And while the Medieval Astronomical Clock was hidden for repairs, the surroundings were still astonishingly beautiful. We also had a walk around the Castle, which was a fun and
Club was a great experience being a multi-room venue with various genres playing. The music varied from some sort of house, to techno, to a genre-bending live band outside, and we happily knocked back some of the cheap drinks as we got ready to explore the rest of the event. I don’t think I could tell you exactly what we were listening to at Cross Club, but it made us smile, dance, and laugh whatever it was.
After having our fair share of beers in the park and the BnB on the first night, we decided to go out on day 2. I had done some research and discovered a city-wide event (not Let it Roll, I’ll come to that later), that was occupying clubs all over town with some familiar artists, such as DJ Zinc! The event spanned over from the vibrantly designed Cross Club where we started, all over Crosstown.
Source: Jacob Kohn
Weremembered.evenvisited
The standout of walking around Prague, however, was buying and eating a Trdelnik. Despite being about 3x more expensive than the actual meals we were eating, there was no way we could resist trying one of these. A Trdelnik is like a funneled pastry, covered in sugar and chopped nuts, filled with ice cream. We all got the most luxurious option, covered in brownie bites and chocolate sauce. It was delicious, then it was disgusting, but it will always be
Phase 3: Let It Roll
another amazing park. The Petřínské Sady was another stunning spot for views. We either walked up the hill or took the cable car, but my memory fails me. What I can remember is the stunning panoramic views of the city, and the massively overpriced but still hilarious hall of funny mirrors that we spent time in. Only one of my friends went up the tower, as surprise, it cost even more money. For a place with so many cheap options, Prague does get you spending a pretty penny.
interesting way to learn a little about the history of one of our new favourite places. The 9th century castle, both the oldest AND largest castle in Europe, has witnessed the tumults of Central European history and has exchanged hands between dynasties (and the occupying army of the Nazis followed by Russian-backed Czech Communists) through the centuries. Architecture aficionados are guaranteed to find plenty to explore and admire in the Castle.
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After making a journey out to the nearest Decathalon to buy a tent, we began making our arrangements for Let It Roll Festival. As the biggest bass-head in our group, I had been pushing this as the most essential part of our holiday. While the group had gotten smaller I was able to convince my three remaining friends that this would truly be worth the effort. Jacob Kohn
Source:
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Once we got to the festival, a feeling of relief filled our bodies and minds. We were skint, exhausted, and ready to party. Living off cereal bars, cheap salads, and beer for the next few days was the lifestyle we chose for ourselves, and we were damned if anything was going get in our way.
Only a short train out of Prague to the town of Milovice, we thought getting to the festival would be easy enough. However, on arrival at the site, we discovered we had to walk through a couple miles of an old airfield, carrying a month’s worth of clothing and a 4-person tent. In the blistering heat of August it was a challenge to be reckoned with.
After setting up our tent, talking to our neighbours (all so friendly regardless of origin), and exploring the campsite somewhat, it was time to go out into the arena. After leaving our new home, we understood why they refer to Let It Roll as the world’s biggest Drum and Bass festival. We milled around between the various dance tents of the festival, each of which was showcasing a different genre of Drum and Bass.
The line-up at Let It Roll is of the highest pedigree for a DnB fan, and there is really something for everyone. Alumni of the Let it Roll stages include Noisia, Andy C, The Prototypes, Kings of the Rollers, Turno, High Contrast, and Pendulum to name a few! Hearing anthems like Blood Sugar, Burnt Ends, and If We Ever blaring from the sound systems was an experience all in itself.
We managed to find some old school Jungle early in the day, and later found ourselves skanking out to some Jump Up.
Living off cereal bars, cheap salads, and beer for the next few days was the lifestyle we chose for ourselves
Source: Jacob Kohn
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Source: Jacob Kohn
Now that’s not to say the festival is perfect. There was something fairly apocalyptic about Let It Roll. Our campsite lacked access to clean drinking water for one. We had water, but it was only after drinking and refilling numerous bottles that we realised there was a distinction between water you should drink, and water that you’re presumably only meant to wash with. Needless to say we all had fairly upset stomachs. Being such a flat open space, it’s not quite as immersive as ‘say’ a UK festival like Boomtown. But still, with the effort put into staging, sound, and line-up, Let It Roll is a must-visit for any Drum and Bass fanatics or Junglists.
Biography of the Writer
And there’s more to do at Let It Roll. If you’re so inclined, then you can spend a few hours on their party bus. Artists and brands take over a Mad Max style bus for a couple hours at a time, and drive around the festival hosting a mobile party! I will definitely be returning to Let It Roll.
the animations paired with heavy Drum and Bass, we were dancing, watching, and laughing hysterically all at the same time.
But beyond the music, we were struck by the production value of each and every stage. With the festival taking on a Sci-Fi theme, we marvelled at the massive robots and futuristic machines that the music we loved was coming out of.
My name is Jacob Kohn and I’m a writer from Maidenhead, Berkshire, based in Bristol. I dabble in music, and I love doing parkour (despite numerous injuries), but putting pen to paper, or indeed fingertip to keyboard is the only passion of mine that I can really see going anywhere. I am reasonably well travelled, but honestly, I’m a raver first. I’ll get out abroad if I know there’s a chance to dance, but at the same time I honestly think England is an underrated holiday location. A festival in my home country is often enough of a holiday for me. I hope you like the probably slightly too personal approach I took to this article.
A standout moment was the second night in at the opening ceremony. To open the event there was an ATV with a DJ on the back driving through the campsite and into the main arena. We and the other happy ravers followed it all the way to as of now unopened main stage, where it stopped before the real festivities began. The robotic-styled stage had massive screens that then displayed a written and animated narrative, with a story about a robot war over some sort of portal. We had no idea what was going on, but we loved it all the same. With
-Email: kohnj96@gmail.com
So that’s how I experienced Prague. In the time of Covid two trips to Prague and Let It Roll have fallen through. But as life begins to open up again, I’m sure I will revisit. It’s my favourite European city that I’ve ever spent time in and is home to one of the best festivals in the world. Let 2022 roll on, and let’s keep our fingers crossed.
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Map Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/23/Czech_Rep._-_http://cairographics.orgBohemia%2C_Moravia_and_Silesia_III_%28en%29.png
MLADYHORAKOVE
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EdinburghSecret
dinburgh. International City of Literature. ‘The Athens of the North.’ ‘The Reykjavik of the South’(?)
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To me, humble Auld Reekie.
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1a/Skyline_of_Edinburgh.jpg
Writer: Michael Tucker
E
Edinburgh is a city which goes by many names, which is no surprise considering the many multi-coloured feathers in her smoggy old cap. Annually, excited tourists come; bussing, flying, or
boating from all corners of the Earth to cross one of the three bridges and catch a glimpse of the many unique attractions our beautiful capital city boasts. Are you going for Edinburgh Castle? Maybe for the Fringe Festival? Potentially, you are merely here to sample our world-famous cuisine. Deep fried Mars Bar and a Haggis fritter anyone?
As a Scotsman who has lived here for 6 years now, I have realised that interacting with eager tourists is a part of daily Edinburgher life. Unfortunately, I cannot fist-bump every wideeyed American nor ‘Slàinte’ all of the fascinated Arabs. For the plethora of visitors we receive to our city - Koreans, Crimeans and even our Southern Softie neighbours (yes that includes you too Geordies) - all travel here to see the same things: the Zoo, the Castle or Camera Obscura. In my opinion, they miss out on what is right under their searching noses.
Duddington Loch
So, with that thought in mind, I grabbed my camera, my pen, my pad and hit the bus routes across town to expose some of Edinburgh’s most serene ‘Secret Spots’ so that everyone, from the unblinking Aussies to my fellow Scots may find somewhere to call their own in the Scottish capital.
Far from famous but totally uncompromising in its salubrious beauty is the literal hidden GEM of Duddington Loch. Coach trips leave the city hourly embarking for the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond or the monstrous waters of Loch Ness, leaving lonely old Duddington Loch behind in the dark. Undeservedly so I say, why waste your time and energy sitting in a metal box for hours on end? When there is a sight just as stunning to behold on your proverbial doorstep?
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Exiting my very own doorstep and hopping on the Number 14 bus to Greendykes, I was there within the hour. The Loch was the location for the famous ‘Skating Minister’ painting from when Duddington Loch was an iconic ice-rink in its 18th century heyday. A day which is long since over. At one point in the day a frizzy haired elderly woman had remarked to me, “I have never been here before and I’ve lived in Edinburgh all my life,” only proving my preconception right that not enough people knew about or appreciated this gorgeous location. Her name was Glenda and she noted to us how unchanged this particular corner of Edinburgh had been in all her years, whilst the rest of the city had evolved rapidly. Duddington itself had remained inside a vacuum separate from the rest of society and the passage of time. She chatted to me about how her and her sadly deceased husband had lived in this area
I have never been here before and I’ve lived inallEdinburghmylife
Source: Michael Tucker
Source: Michael Tucker
for some time and how the surroundings held sentimental memories everywhere she looked. It was why she had come to Duddington Loch on this particular day, having never visited here, to escape any notion of grief and feel totally refreshed. She was no longer in his shadow for a moment. The water of Duddington really could wash away any grievances.
Further down the road toward the Loch (which I still could not see) the impressive Dunsapie Crag reared its lovely head as I passed over the hill crest on which Duddington Kirk stood. The tarmac road leading toward the expansive Holyrood Park was quiet and the sun was climbing higher in the sky. June in Scotland and the air was pleasantly humid.
If like me, you are relying on nothing but your keen sense of direction and your girlfriend on Google Maps then I advise to look out for the Craigmillar Castle Road bus stop. This is best reached travelling on the Number 14 bus, a pretty effective route which covers much of central Edinburgh, from Leith to the Royal Mile. Alternatively, the more adventurous types can easily walk to Arthur’s Seat from anywhere in the city as its central location makes it extremely easy to find (its not exactly hard to miss). As legendary Scots writer Robert Louis Stevenson said, ‘a hill for magnitude, a mountain for virtue of its bold design,’ and I have to say Bobby... I really agree.
Arriving near Duddington Village, walk up the aptly named ‘Old Church Lane’ which indeed passes an old church – the 12th century kirkyard no less. Everything about the building resonates with history; small battered wooden doors and moss creeping up the side of a crumbling kirk tower. Built as early as 1124, the Kirk has been a fixture in the area for a millennia - moving from religious round, to community hall, to a Fringe Festival venue in its thousand year history. Interestingly, the gatehouse and tower at the entrance was a lookout for Edinburgh’s 19th century body-snatchers or ‘resurrectionists’ who stole dead bodies from their graves to sell on for medical purposes. Do not disturb the dead said ye!
As I was saying,about a 15-minute walk outside of the suburb Duddington, turn back from the Craigmillar Castle bus-stop (the route I took) taking the first right following the road all the way up to Duddington Village – which itself is a beautiful little escape from the chaos of Edinburgh surrounding it. If it is your thing, then a fishing permit can also be obtained for free from the nearby Education Centre.
High reeds and bushes obscured the left side of my view whereas trees and the grassy slope of Crow Hill rose to my right. Like starting out of a dream, the shrubs at my side broke and the vivid beauty of Duddington Loch was revealed to me. Turning down the path which lead to the designated ‘wetlands’ I was truly in awe at the grandeur of Edinburgh’s only natural and freshwater Loch, The colour of the location was what struck me first, yellows, purples, blues;
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The trip to Duddington Loch and village is extremely worth it for couples, families and groups of friends looking for a beautiful, exciting city retreat.
Source: Michael Tucker
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golden and green leaves cascading down from the trees which encroached on the Loch bank. The Pentland hills rose up majestically on the distant side, the summits visible over the tops of old and proud deciduous trees; the water looked as crisp as you would find in a natural source. If I’d brought a towel, I would have loved a refreshing swim.
Taking the path which swerves around the Loch to the right I soon found more quiet beaches on the Loch side which would make for a truly stunning spot to relax and escape troubles of the real world for a time.
If you have an ‘affa drooth’ (thirst and hunger needing quenched) at the end of your adventure here, Duddington village is perfect to stop off at. It hosts the world-famous Sheep’s Heid Inn, claiming to be the oldest public house in Scotland still standing since 1360! The reputation is deserved as the food is wonderful, the drinks even better especially after walking a hard day in the Scottish sun.
Sadly, I had not, and I enviously eyed the various geese, swans and ducks which paddled on the surface. Before long, I had been swarmed by the intrigued inhabitants of the Loch – the friendliest of whom followed me with his head bowed for my duration there. The geese were welcoming me with open wings.
Lastly, if toilet breaks are required which I am sure they will be then there is a free to use toilet around the back of the Kirk car park just 5 minutes back from the Loch, just a straight line mover the car park towards the information building – the door to the toilet was already open so no need to even ask for it to be unlocked!
This hidden beauty deserves some love, so get out there and show it some!
special about an alleyway?” I hear you scream. What if I told you it acted as a portal to a tranquil step back in horticultural time? To a secret garden in the city centre modelled in the style of 17th century Britain. Well, it is all true. I simply had to refer you all to one of Edinburgh’s most beautifully kept secrets.
Walking through the garden it swiftly turns into a long and elegant ground; the path stretching on past different styles of flower allotments seeded with multitudes of plants; honeysuckle, foxglove, catmint, un-bloomed sunflowers and in the centre viper’s bugloss. The smell of fruit dangled in the air as apple trees and cherry bushes flexed their leaves in the hot, midday, summer sun (yes it can happen in Scotland too!). A smiling woman with a sun beaten face was resting on a stone bench with a book in her hand: the mood epitomised.
All of the plants contained in the garden were found in the flowerbeds of people who lived in this
Source: com/65535/50583906632_78cce53543_b.jpghttps://live.staticflickr.
“Whatroad.isso
stopped at Regent Terrace you can see right before you the evolution of Edinburgh’s architecture. A kind of Frankenstein’s monster of Edwardian, Georgian and modern architecture all absorbed into the maelstrom of the Royal Mile. I was ready to be sucked in.
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Dunbar Close
As you may have now realised, I am a real buso-phile, and whilst Edinburgh is an immense place to walk around (there is SO much history) the bus links are amongst the most convenient in Europe. I took the 104 bus up to Regent Terrace which is behind the famed Royal Mile and location of my next hot-tip Dunbar Close. Named so after the 17th century writer and lawyer David Dunbar who owned the buildings surrounding the Close. I should now mention that ‘close’ is Scots for a narrow alleyway off the main
Source: scotland-castle-historical-landmark-tourists.jpghttps://p1.pxfuel.com/preview/776/547/588/edinburgh-
The close is located about a 5-minute walk up from the bottom of the Royal Mile. On the right-hand side of the street there are many stone arches, signalling the entrance to the various closes – most of which lead down stone stairs to other streets or simply into private property. Dunbar Close however, leads you through a black iron gate and then down a chuckie path which opens into a sleepy little garden. Rich with history as well as botanical life, the close was at one point an oyster cellar turned speak easy for the local ladies to have a dram and a ceilidh. The Bard himself, Rabbie Burns, actually visited the close when it was an oyster cellar in the 1780s - charming the oysters and ‘bonnie lassies’ in the process.
Walking down the hill from where my bus
spot during the 17th century. Botanist Seamus Filor designed the garden in 1977, painstakingly modelling it on the Edinburghers’ gardens from a bygone era. Tenants who would have tended to their gracious and flowing gardens now have a piece of their history preserved secretly, just 30 seconds from the busiest road in Edinburgh –it is truly remarkable and utterly enveloping. It would be all too easy to forget that you are even in the capital city when spending an extended bit of time in Dunbar’s dreamy Close.
Source: https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/47785617661_1c61da5a8a_b.jpg
The smell of fruit dangled in the air as apple trees and cherry bushes flexed their leaves in the hot midday summer sun.
Arboretum Avenue
Walking down behind ‘The Grange’, National CRICKET Ground of Scotland
The Water of Leith itself is no secret location –yet the stream which runs through Edinburgh from the rising Pentlands in the West to the harbour at Leith does not get nearly enough credence for its striking scenery. Having traversed the walkway many times there never seemed to be many places to sit and soak in the serenity. Bearing this in mind I had seen many stony banks and grassy patches down from the walkway that I felt were reachable, yet I had never tried my hand. Until now.
At this point I should state this route, whilst not overly difficult, should not be attempted if you are terrified of getting wet or have the dexterity of a bull in a china shop. With that in mind take a deep breath and leap down the drop so that you are on a muddy track right on the water’s lapping edge. Trust in the path
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– I don’t like Cricket, oh no, I love it! – there is a green metal fence running alongside the road. At the first chance go through a gate in the fence and onto the Water of Leith walkway. At a certain point there is a bend in the road with what looks like a way down. It is a way down.
Water of Leith (Adventurers’ Walkway)
which diverges or disappears momentarily at points on the track, climbing through foliage and minding your step along the way. Truly you are enmeshed in nature.
There are times when the path will diverge, picking your route over a higher muddy bank or a walkway of boulders protruding from the riverbed – be careful not to get wet toes! The main challenge about 5 minutes along the path is a rock wall which sticks out on your left and has to be manoeuvred over if you wish to carry on. Plenty of cracks for hands and feet to be wedged into, steadying your way across, it really is not as hard as it may seem as it is only 4 or 5 paces long.
Source: Michael Tucker
I have outlined above is a well-hidden and rarely trodden section of the Water of Leith. It is all you and a few friends could ask for when desiring a quick and peaceful escape from citylife when visiting Edinburgh. Sheltered from the breeze and exposed to the sun, it is the perfect remedy for a busy mind. And until next time, Slàinte!
cobbled streets of a literal village within a city. It is very worth the short detour.
Once you have stopped and taken in the truly remarkable surroundings that you are entrenched in you can push on for another couple of minutes, eventually the path becoming wider and sparser. At this point you are off the unofficial ‘adventure’ route and back on the well-travelled Rocheid Path leading either back left towards the not-so-secret but utterly enthralling Dean Village or carry on straight towards the affluent Stock bridge with all of its independent amenities.
Thegreen.route
Climbing through the overgrowth of plants for a minute of two and you will see the stony shores which sit on either side of the stream. Plenty of opportunities opening up further down the muddy track, occasionally becoming an inviting sunspot of green-soft grass. Picturesque and perfect for a midday bite or sip of whisky, even to just absorb the rays for a peaceful hour or two.
Dean Village offers a rare experience for voyagers, who will feel like they have stepped through the proverbial wardrobe when entering this hidden idyll. Tucked in a natural valley; the traffic, the bustle of Edinburgh is completely lost far overhead as you explore the winding,
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Stockbridge is one of Edinburgh’s most ‘infashion’ neighbourhoods. Independent businesses, beautiful architecture and proximity to the Water of Leith make it a hot destination for shoppers, students as well as the more well-seasoned citizens of the capital. It is the sort of place which would not be out of place as a ‘dark blue’ on the Monopoly board… maybe a
page called ‘Tour of the Terraces’ where I have learned to hone my craft.
My top 3 novels that changed my life would be... American Psycho, Brett Easton Ellis; A Clockwork Orange, Antony Burgess; One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Ken Kesey. Not everyone’s ‘cuppa’ but I guarantee you will certainly have an opinion on them.
GEORGIANHOUSE
Map Source: Edinburgh-city-pass-guide-2020
Secret Edinburgh
BRIGHTBUSTOUR
VAULTSTOUR SCRAPHEAPGOLF
Life is peachy as long as you can breathe the fresh air in my opinion – never trust a man that won’t smell the flowers.
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HARRYPOTTERTOUR
Biography of the Writer
Duddington Village Dunsapie Crag
HOLYROODDISTILLERY
Way to Water of Leith Dean
StockbridgeVillage
Dunbar Close Regent Terrace
Way to WayDuddingtonLeithLocktoGreendykes
Mikey Tucker is my name, I am a 23 year old English student from Aberdeen, Scotland currently studying at Edinburgh Napier University. I adore nature, the grandeur of mountains and a really appley cider to accompany me. I have lived in Edinburgh for 6 years and fell in love with the Scottish capital, although as a travel writer I want to see as many corners of the world as possible – the more obscure the better. I have a passion for the unloved places in life, places where people don’t go or talk about. My dream would be a trip to document life in somewhere like Eritrea or Moldova honestly! I also run a Scottish football
Sheep's Heid Inn pub
MACDONALDHOLYROODHOTEL
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Map Source: uploads/2017/04/scotland-map.pdfhttps://traveltrade.visitscotland.org/wp-content/
Map of Scotland
Writer: Simon Birinder
T
here’s an incredible magic about this place. It has seen all kinds of war and death but is alive in ways you can’t imagine. The air is thick enough to drown you, humid and heavy with sounds that reverberate through the forest and rebound off the sky-rise canopies to rain down as chatter onto
the jungle floor. It is said that in this raw wilderness live sovai: souls of the departed, spirits as old as the trees, who live in rocks, pools of water, and other special places inhabited by the dead. If you don’t see them, just listen; you’ll hear them everywhere.
The Kokoda Track runs through the jungles of Papua New Guinea’s central highlands
Source: “Sun flare through the gap” by superRelish (URL: https://www.flickr.com/photos/82706753@N00/7653578166) Licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0 (URL: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nd/2.0/)
How a test of endurance in the jungles of Papua New Guinea transformed into something of far greater significance
An PilgrimageAccidental
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From Popondetta airstrip we had an even bumpier three-hour drive. Chatting with Norman and Stephen, it was clear they had come well prepared. Both had been training in Australia’s Blue Mountains and had experience of high-altitude trekking in other parts of the world. The closest I had come to any formal preparation was battling through freak
But I had not come here for spirits or things unseen. I expected the extraordinary to be found in the thrill of exhaustion after a gruelling day’s hike and the blissful sleep that only comes with complete depletion; proof that I had given each day my best. I hoped to see it in the eyes of rare creatures and blossoms illuminated by the phosphorescent wings of the lesser birdof-paradise. That was my reason for coming to Papua New Guinea, a country of 850 languages but less than nine million people. And here, at the start of it all, was someone to lead the way.
“Morning,” we all responded.
The city revealed itself to be a bustling sprawl of mainly low-level white, red, and blue tin roofs interspersed with cool green and dry earth.
Port Moresby was a shaky affair. Through the rattling window of the De Havilland Dash 8, the city revealed itself to be a bustling sprawl of mainly low-level white, red, and blue tin roofs interspersed with cool green and dry earth. As a light breeze swept us over the mountainous jungles and vein-like rivers of the central highlands, it was easy to see how the 30-minute flight in one direction would translate into a six-day hike in the other.
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I was still getting the measure of my trekking companions, Norman and Stephen, and they of me. We’d met only briefly the night before at our no-frills hotel in Port Moresby, exchanging the usual pleasantries before catching a few hours’ sleep ahead of our early morning flight to ThePopondetta.take-offfrom
“Moningnau,” she called out with a radiant smile as she quickly marched by. Strapped around her forehead was a large bag, sagging in the middle from the weight of her cargo like a hammock big enough for two. She was old and bone-thin and the skin of her neck pleated in concentric rings like the age lines of an ancient tree.
Source: : “File:Cendrawasih.jpg” by rezapratama is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 URL: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/64/Cendrawasih.jpg
The lesser bird-of-paradise is found only in Papua New Guinea and West Papua
There was no sudden entrance into the forest, no miraculous portal to the hinterland. I wasn’t expecting Narnia, but I hadn’t bargained on starting our trek at the Kokoda Village Post Office - a sleepy wood- cabin with open doors but little sign of activity.
My stomach felt hollow and, deep-down, twinges of anticipation goose-stepped with nerves and excitement.
snowfall in north London four weeks earlier to get to an acclimatised treadmill in my local gym. My immediate thoughts, therefore, rested heavily on my physical aptitude to endure the punishing trek that lay ahead. I felt like a soon to be battered rookie in the line-up for a gruelling assault course.
And it was to start here, with the crossing of a slow-moving river, following the lead of an age-defying woman who effortlessly negotiated the remains of what had once been a bridge to reach the steep hill on the opposite bank before disappearing, spirit-like, into the forest. Waiting for us on the other side was a jeep that would complete the journey to our starting point; the reason we were all here: to retrace the course of one of the most important battles of the Pacific War on the infamous Kokoda Track.
This jungle is said to be inhabited by sovai: souls of the departed, spirits as old as the trees, who live in rocks and pools of water
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“Let’s go,” said our guide, Clement, a 30-something-year-old local historian from Saga Village in Oro Province. He had been with the Kokoda Trekking team, our trek organiser, since 2004, initially working as a porter. Heeding the advice of his mother, a retired school teacher, Clement had continued learning and, having studied the history of Kokoda closely and walked the route over 100 times, gradually moved up the ranks to become one of the operator’s most trusted guides.
Source: : Simon Birinder
Source: : “Buai Meri” by Ian @ ThePaperboy.com is licensed under CC BY 2.0 URL: https://www.flickr.com/photos/85209414@N00/1157829705
It turns out we were right to be cautious. Without warning, the gradient increased, the path became narrower, and, as fatigue set in,
As we walked along a wide, manicured pathway, it was hard to believe we had commenced one of the toughest jungle treks in the world. Our six porters joked and jostled with each other while sharpening their two-foot-long bush knives, some grinning at us through the blood-red smiles of betel nut. Known locally as ‘buai’, half of Papua New Guineans chew it, deriving a sense of alertness, euphoria, and in extreme cases, bouts of psychosis. But the chewing of betel nut also plays an important role in traditional medicine, inducing a shamanic trance which enables practitioners to see inside a patient’s body and perceive the causes of illness.
Source: : David Maunsell
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A Papuan woman grinning the blood-red smile of betel nut, locally known as ‘buai’
The buai was not offered to us, nor were we inclined to try it; many unknowns lay ahead and experimenting with something reported to have dubious side effects just as we were heading into the jungle seemed far from wise.
The arch marking the starting point of the Track in Kokoda Village
one-by-one we fell silent. And so it was that Norman, Stephen and I took those initial steps into the ancestral lands of the Orokaiva and Mountain Koiari people to spend six days with six complete strangers wielding machetes and a mild-mannered guide on whom we would come
Source:
The track itself, or ‘Kokouda Dala’ as locals call it, is a 96-kilometre trail stretching across the ragged and isolated terrain of the Owen Stanley Range, from the village of Kokoda to Owen’s Corner, 50 kilometres north-east of Port Moresby. Navigable only by foot, it passes through some of the most intact and biodiverse tropical rainforests in the world, exceeded in size by only the Amazon jungle and the Congo Basin.
the traditional belief systems of both groups, originally based in animism and ancestor worship, have been diluted by the propagation of foreign missionaries. Today’s Orokaiva are almost exclusively Anglican while the Mountain Koiari are strict Seventh Day Adventists, resulting in their disassociation with the consumption and raising of pigs, the chewing of betel nut, and the smoking of tobacco. Though many traditional practices are still prevalent, modernity and increased exposure to the outside world threaten to erode links to the ancestral heritage of these communities.
Both the Orokaiva and Mountain Koiari are predominantly subsistence farmers whose main crops include taro, kaukau (sweet potato), and yams. Cultivated in small holdings in the remote villages dotted along the Kokoda Track, these starchy foods were a good source of energy to us as we walked.
Koiari Treetop House.
to wholly depend. We knew it would be tough; there would be no electricity, no WhatsApp or Wi-Fi. What we didn’t know, was the degree to which the coming days would touch us.
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Overground.time,
: J.W. Lindt, 1886
Orokaiva refers to a grouping of culturally and linguistically similar tribes found in Oro Province, to the east of the Owen Stanley Range which runs down the middle of the Papuan Peninsula. First encountered by European explorers in the 19th century, they were reputed to be skilled and ferocious fighters, like the Mountain Koiari who inhabit the highlands of Central Province to the west. The latter were also noted for their iconic treetop houses, mostly used as points of retreat during attacks, some constructed more than 60 feet off the
Source: : Simon Birinder
The Kokoda Track passes through the mountainous jungles of the Papuan Peninsula’s central highlands
I had read about cases of reciprocal violence between tribes and their link to the country’s complex social arrangement known as ‘wantok’, a pidginised version of one talk or same language. Based on an informal system of linguistic solidarity, wantok requires communities that speak the same language to provide mutual support to one another in times of need. But that’s not all; the contract
From July until November 1942, the track was the site of intense fighting and bloodshed as largely inexperienced and poorly-equipped Aussie Diggers aided by locals fought to block the advance of the Imperial Japanese Army across what was then the Australian Territory of Papua. Cleared by native tribes to forge pathways between remote villages and provide access to coastal regions in the northeast and southwest, over the centuries the track has also served as a means of escape from inter-tribal wars, making it a path deeply rooted in conflict long before any strife between the Allies and Axis
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also enforces a system of payback whereby all members of a particular network are obliged to exact revenge, at times brutal, upon anyone who causes harm to one of their kin.
1940s map showing the route of the Kokoda Track from Kokoda to Ower’s Corner
Source: : AUSTRALIANhttps://photos.app.goo.gl/TbkeLheUBDeBw6Kk9WARMEMORIAL|Refnumber:136416
BeforePowers.thetrek,
Deniki consisted of a small cluster of timber huts on stilts with thatched roofs and partition walls of woven cane, a style typical to these remote parts. We were surprised to learn that we would be sleeping in one of them, even more so that our three tents had been pitched inside it.
sherryn1 is licensed
stop was on the fringes of a village called Deniki, the seventh staging post on the Kokoda Track. Emerging from the jungle, I felt energised, as if the slipping and sliding through the sweat bath of the silent forest had drawn out the stress and toxicity of the outside world. Admittedly, we had only been walking for half a day.
“Zip the doors tight shut,” Clement advised as we ate our simple dinner of unrecognisable, rehydrated something accompanied with rice that had been boiled on a camp fire.
As eager as we were to know more about wantok and its potential to impact our own safety while walking, it was a topic Clement seemed uncomfortable discussing. And so, we were left with the encouraging words of Gail, our trek coordinator, who earlier that day in the airport departure hall had assured us that the locals we were likely to encounter “…tend not to kill Ourforeigners.”firstovernight
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Source: : “Deniki by under CC BY 2.0 URL:
The view from Deniki Village at dusk
Children at Deniki Village keep warm in the early morning chill
Sunset”
Source:https://www.flickr.com/photos/97545012@N00/4423376049:SimonBirinder
Night fell quickly which presented an opportunity to try out the makeshift shower away from the curious stares of the village children who had been coyly observing us. It was situated on an outcrop overlooking the Yodda Valley. Standing under it, I realised for the first time how high up we were. The shower consisted of a bamboo tube which channelled a spout of water from a nearby stream and, despite being icily cold, the panoramic views of the moonlit canopies below were spectacular.
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The monument to the fallen at Isurava with its four black granite pillars bearing the inscription of the Kokoda values of Courage, Endurance, Mateship, and Sacrifice
choice, the harsh conditions we found ourselves in had quickly done away with any notions of weakness or self-interest, bringing us as close as we would get to understanding the sense of resilience and duty of all who had once fought here.
Source: : Simon Birinder
Over the next few days, we moved further into the jungle, trudging through mud, crossing bamboo bridges, wading across streams, and scaling rock walls carpeted in thick layers of luminous green moss. The track rose up to expansive ridges revealing bird’s eye views of an impenetrable world of peaks and plateaux and plummeted into deep gorges beneath trees that blocked out the sun. The jungle hummed and buzzed, seducing us with flute-like sounds but never revealing their creators, whether human, animal, or spirit. It was during these initial days that the desire to explore ebbed away and a consciousness of where we were and what it meant to be there slowly emerged.
A camp site at Templeton’s Crossing named in honour of Captain Sam Templeton of the 39th Battalion, who was killed during the Kokoda Campaign on 26 July 1942.
Source: : Norman Howe
In a large clearing at Isurava, we found a monument to the fallen, four black granite pillars bearing the inscription of the Kokoda values of Courage, Endurance, Mateship and Sacrifice, the code by which so many had lived and died. The poignancy was not lost on us. Even though I, like Norman and Stephen, was here by
By the time we crossed from Oro into Central Province, we had settled into a steady pace of walking. Local men and women, often alone and carrying large knives, breezed past us, occasionally smiling and extending warm greetings, unruffled by the arduous conditions. These people spend their lives walking; for most, it is their only mode of transport. Our porters acknowledged and sized them up in equal measure - an unequivocal reminder that, despite the pleasantries, we were deep into the lands of wantok culture.
I had developed a blister on the heel of my right foot and, seeing that I was limping, one of my porters had fashioned a fallen branch into a walking stick. He spoke little, but was always close by to lend a hand when I slipped
As far as my porter was concerned, there was nothing fuzzy about him; his head was closely shaven, he carried an agreed weight for a predetermined fee, pitched my tent, and prepared my meals. But he was kind.
My porter, Chris, with his machete at the ready
and fell, his rubber flip-flops locating familiar footholds in the mulch of the jungle floor. He was nothing like the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels I had heard of: 49,500 tribesmen who served as war carriers for the Allied soldiers throughout the Kokoda Campaign, ferrying supplies to the front line and wounded soldiers back to hospital camps. Around 2,000 perished and in 2018, their sacrifices were finally acknowledged in a memorial built at the halfway point of the Track, in the isolated village of Naduri.
We had each been assigned two porters at a total cost of 580 Australian Dollars (roughly £300), though it wasn’t clear how much each man actually received. One carried our rucksacks and the other an assortment of essential supplies. My porters were from Orokaiva villages but the team consisted of Koairias well. The two groups, each with their own distinct language, got on seemingly well and chatted amongst themselves in Tok Pisin (literally ‘bird talk’), an English-based creole fused with elements of German, Malay, Portuguese, and a host of Austronesian languages.
A Papuan Tribesman shields an Australian soldier from the sun
When not hiking, the porters tend to family allotments and hunt following the traditional practices of their ancestors. They are generally welcoming of foreigners; the tribal communities of this region rely heavily on trekking and camp ground fees as well as the direct employment of guides and porters to supplement the subsistence economy.
Source: : Simon Birinder
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Source: : AUSTRALIAN WAR MEMORIAL and ref number: 016056 must be kept
AUSTRALIAN WAR MEMORIAL | Ref number: 013263 Global VoyagerS | 57
a moment’s rest: a soldier is served a cup of tea after a clash with Japanese jungle fighters in the Kokoda area
Source: : Simon Birinder
Duringwalked.breaks
and mealtimes, I often thought about the soldiers who, nearly eighty years ago, would have rested
The best parts of the day were early mornings and evenings. We quickly got used to dressing in cold, damp clothes and attending to our growing compendium of minor afflictions. Over breakfast, we each got our daily rations which resembled mummified remains of something that had once lived and
and eaten in the same locations as us, surviving on scant rations of bully beef and biscuits. I wondered if they felt the same enjoyment from the simple act of drinking hot tea or taking a moment to relieve tired feet.
Our first contact with outsiders came on the third night in the unexpectedly large village of Efogi, a vast encampment of raised wooden huts formed into what can best be described as miniature neighbourhoods, each built around its own communal outdoor space. A group of more than 80 trekkers, porters and guides had arrived before us and were being treated to cultural performances and displays of handicrafts. It drove the message home that, in spite of our hard slog through the jungle and our attempts at understanding the history of the place, we, like them, were simply tourists, albeit on an extraordinary adventure.
A porter crossing a bamboo bridge on the Kokoda
EnjoyingTrack
Our last stop before returning to Port Moresby was the war cemetery at Bomana, the site of 3,824 Commonwealth burials from the Second World War, the vast majority Australian troops alongside a number of soldiers from the UK and New Zealand. Norman, Stephen and I limped in silence, each finding our own corner of solitude.
Of the five nights we spent on the Kokoda Track, it was the fourth that stood out. We camped south of Menari Village, which had already been occupied by a much larger group of trekkers. Our chosen spot was next to a fast-flowing stream deep enough to swim and bathe in and our provisions were supplemented with fresh-water morning glory plucked from nearby. But what struck me most was the calmness that resided in the jungle that night, a presence that reminded us of how fortunate we were to experience this place without the threat of death or violence.
see, walking in single file along the narrowest section of the track, was a caravan of men, women, and children consisting of 60 trekkers, 120 porters, and 10 guides. An hour would pass before we could overtake them at a river crossing and, when we did, the source of their painstakingly slow progress became apparent. At the head of their party, shuffling with the aid of two sticks and supported by a relative and two porters, was an elderly man who could barely stand, let alone walk.
I had mixed feelings about this, not least because of the burden of responsibility placed on his entire group. That night however, Clement joined us by the camp fire and told us about an 81-year-old Australian man who had completed the same walk some years earlier. He had fought and been injured in the Kokoda Campaign and, while in hospital, had promised other wounded soldiers that he would one day walk in their honour. I recalled the memorial at Isurava and its emphasis on endurance and mateship and, thinking back to the old man we’d seen that day, wondered what his own personal reasons might have been for walking the track.
The next morning, as we left the site of our final camp at Ioribaiwa, dressed in our wet clothes and now also reeking of wood smoke from the fire, we stopped for one last view of the clouds at sunrise. It was our sixth day on the track and the blister on my heel had rubbed through to the bone but, standing there amongst the stillness, I realised that no amount of discomfort could ever come close to the pain and sacrifice of the soldiers and tribesmen who came before us.
“You alright?” I asked, inching past her.
“Yes, love,” she replied, grinning through clenched teeth.
“Oh, darl, I stopped counting a week ago,” was her reply.
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The next day, we awoke to the news that the large party from Menari had set off at five am to make up lost time and were approaching our camp. We left immediately to get ahead of them and avoid being slowed down by what Clement called a so slow group of not fit people. Our eagerness led to us catching up with an even bigger legion of hikers that could only be described as a spiritless camel train of Sunday walkers. What first alerted us to their presence was the obvious straggler in the group: a fortysomething-year-old woman entirely paralysed with fear, clinging to a spaghetti crossroads of black tree roots half way up a sodden forty-fivedegree rock face.
I asked how long she had been walking.
The full scale of what we were up against became apparent once we had scaled the ridge. Before us, stretching as far as the eye could
of the life that this path has supported for centuries and will continue to uphold for many more to come. I did find the extraordinary, just not the one I had been looking for; a bit like completing a pilgrimage I had never started.
To endure this trek was to catch a fleeting glimpse of the sacrifices made by so many a mere life-time ago. But it also gave us a taste
1000s of headstones stand like soldiers awaiting inspection at the Bomana War Cemetery
Biography of the Writer
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Source: : Commonwealth War Graves
URL:https://photos.app.goo.gl/oUN5kkufx2JJ7H8E9
“A place where the extraordinary can be found without even looking for it”
Imagine that.
Source: : “Ioribaiwa Sunset” by alistairkitchen is licensed under CC BY 2.0
It had been recommended that I walk the Kokoda Track in the reverse route to the one we had taken so that I could visit this cemetery first and gain a perspective on history. But I’m glad we came the way we did; doing so helped me realise that this is not only a place of death.
Simon is a London-based writer and diplomatic protocol specialist. Originally from Malaysia, he has also lived and studied in South America and continental Europe and travels extensively for both work and pleasure. His main interests are travel, food and design.
This is a place which lends an ear to the past helping you discern the many voices that stretch like whispers over the canopy of the forest. A place that pushes aside branches to let in the sun so it can light up pieces of history before the ripples of time delete them forever, like the browsing history on the hard drive of life. A place where the extraordinary can be found without even looking for it.
I found mine on a raised patch of grass, looking out over a sea of white headstones which stood in uniform rows like thousands of soldiers patiently awaiting inspection. Sitting there in the afternoon sun, it hit home that their wait would be eternal.
Source: : Norman Howe One last view of the clouds at sunrise from our camp at Ioribaiwa O S O S S O L OMO N SE A B I S M ARCK SE A C O RA L SE A Gulf of Papua Huon Gulf Astrolabe Bay pmaDierStrait Crater Point eirraBtaerGrReef B isma r c k Ar chipelag o Lake Murray Central Range BismarckRange PeninsulaCapeYork Huon Pen. Owen Stanley Range PORT MORESBY Vanimo KundiawaGoroka Sepik River Fly River Madang Lae Daru Kerema Popondetta AlotauKavieng Lorengau Kimbe Rabaul Wewak Ower's Corner Deniki Naduri Tufi Merauke Bamaga Kinim Gasmata Bay Taskul MILNEBwagaoiaBAY ORO CENTRALSOUTHERNREGION NEW GUINEA ISLANDS MAINLAND MAMOSE GULF WESTERN MADANG MOROBE HIGHLANDSEASTERN NATIONALCAPITALDISTRICT HIGHLANDSSOUTHERNENGAHELA EAST SEPIK BRIEASTNEWTAIN BRIWESTNEWTAIN NEW IRELAND SANDAUN WESTERN SIMBU HIGHLANDS JIWAKA AUSTRAL I A NESONDIIA Ref: Papua New Guinea Visitor Map | www.papuanewguinea.travel Global VoyagerS | 60
ambodia, a small country, slapbang in the middle of Southeast Asia, bears a heavy burden of history; of regal, colonial and authoritarian empires. From the ancient NôkôPhnum kingdom, with a distinct Hindu culture, beginning in the 1st century, to the conquering Chenla Kingdom of the 6th century that was split into Land and Water, or Upper and Lower, to the famous Khmer Kingdom that succeeded the Chenla in the 8th century for six
C
centuries of technological, agricultural and artistic progress, Cambodia’s premodern and middle histories shape a huge part of what Cambodia is today. Alongside these legacies, however, exist the more modern French colonial influence sand the recent tyrannical Khmer Rouge regime. Both inextricably woven within the bustling markets, sombre museum tours, tranquil countryside and beaches of the country today.
How Cambodia’s Past Haunts Her Present
Writer: Emily Duchenne
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Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/82/Cambodia_2638B_-_Angkor_Wat.jpg
The Trees That Wear Bracelets:
Photographs of the Leaders of the Democratic Republic of Kampuchea, taken in the S-21 Prison.
A map of the expulsion of Cambodians following the takeover of the Khmer Rouge in 1975.
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such as the classic Angkor Wat sunrise, cooking classes with local ingredients, and boat parties along the Mekong River. But following a personal ethos of learning as I went, rather than knowing what was coming (that I now suspect was also influenced by my own laziness), my general perception of the country that I was travelling to was simply a blank tablet waiting for stories to be etched onto. And I think in the end that this is what made Cambodia so impactful for me.
My expectations of cultural nuances and historical splendour of rising and falling empires over the last three thousand years were harshly replaced by my growing understanding of the dark annals of Cambodia’s genocidal Khmer Rouge regime that millions endured between 1975 and 1979, leaving me with a sense of overwhelming surrealness and heartache, mingled with wonder for the human resilience for this convivial country that so many were made to suffer for. These feelings truly revealed themselves at the beginning of my trip, in my visit to the macabre ‘Killing Fields’ and infamous S-21 prison that interrupt the vivaciousness of Phnom Penh, where tourists and citizens alike are reminded of the horrors millions went through not even fifty years ago.
Yet Cambodia is also a country that I knew very little about prior to travelling there as a bouncy but bored eighteen-year-old, freshly out of school and eager to experience Southeast Asia for its wealth of ethnic and religious diversity, explosions of tastes and smells, and breathtaking beaches and rural jungle, juxtaposed against dynamic cities that synergise chaos with the everyday. Cambodia has all of this and more, where, in the streets of the capital Phnom Penh, you can hardly move in the Central Market for hawkers selling everything from fragrant roasted nuts to jade jewellery. Further north, the ethereal peace of the sun rising over the Angkor Wat temples in Siem Reap, where strangler trees wage a war against these stillgrand Hindu and Buddhist ruins, remind visitors of the unrelenting combination of nature and time. Just a few hours away towards the west, lie the beaches of Koh Rong, where picturesque white sands and clear turquoise waters offer yet another dimension to this country.
But looking back, my trip to Cambodia was the one journey across Southeast Asia that caught me completely off guard. I had picked up odd things about the country here and there from conversations with other backpackers in Thailand; the must-see sights and experiences
Weaving through the streets of Phnom Penh, brightly coloured roofs and glittering temples dotted the landscape along with high-rise glassy office buildings and hotels.
This is a history that I knew very little about before I flew into Cambodia in April 2018. Catching the last few weeks of the dry season, I arrived in Phnom Penh from Bangkok with my travel buddy Alice with whom I had spent March travelling up and down Thailand. The familiar tropical woosh of heat as we stepped out from the plane onto the miraging, tarmacked runway, the plane engine still present as an acrid smell in the air, was a blast back into the reality of life in Southeast Asia where a chilly hour-long flight over serves to be a respite from
Firstly, a brief modern political history of Cambodia is necessary to situate the significance of these must-see tourist sites. Post-independence (1953) Cambodia managed to stay detached from neighbouring Vietnam’s fight for independence from French rule. However, the Vietnam War slowly dragged Cambodia in and led to internal instability: a 1970 coup against the then-reigning Prince Norodom Sihanouk resulted in the Khmer Republic, a military-led state that supported the capitalist interests of the United States amid the escalation of the Vietnamese-American War. However, the involvement and bombings by the US on Cambodian borders amidst efforts to drive back the communist Vietcong, coupled with Cambodia’s own communist movement commanded by revolutionary Pol Pot, who constructed visions of a utopian agrarian society uncorrupted by the capitalist West, led to a civil war raging in the Cambodian countryside. The eventual fall of the Khmer Republic to the Khmer Rouge in April 1975, that saw mass executions of government officials and immediate evacuations of city dwellers deep into the Cambodian jungle and countryside under the pretence of imminent US bombing was followed by four years of the oneparty Democratic Kampuchea regime, where brutality, executions, disease and starvation killed an estimated one quarter of Cambodia’s population of eight million.
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the intense heat of the day. After sorting out our visas and picking up our backpacks, already starting to look a bit worse for wear, we headed via taxi straight to our hostel accommodation that was booked as part of a 10-day guided tour around WeavingCambodia.throughthe
streets of Phnom Penh, brightly coloured roofs and glittering temples dotted the landscape along with high-rise glassy office buildings and hotels. Wide roads quickly became crammed with tuk-tuks made inviting with vibrantly tasselled cushions and charms hanging decoratively from the wind-mirrors; buses and bicycles introduced the harsh smells of petrol and car exhausts, occasionally offset by savoury snacks cooking on the street. From our taxi, I could see large mounds of charred and smoky crickets that I had already become familiar with in the markets of Bangkok; stalls of numerous ice cream flavours and topping combinations to be rolled into a cup on a cold stone; piles of fresh mangoes, passion fruit and pineapple along with my new favourite, a massive spikey husk with fleshy pods inside called jackfruit, being sliced stuffed into plastic bags with forks poking out from the top.
The fleeting smells of the intensely savoury beef broths that I knew would be packed with rice noodles, leafy greens and decorated with spicy chilli slices and torn up fresh herbs were more than enough to make me will the driver on
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and drinks by the pool that I first started to gauge an understanding of the magnitude of Cambodia’s recent history, where discussions of the ‘Killing Fields’ began cropping up in conversations, with other backpackers voicing their sense of dread as well as macabre interest. I knew this was on the cards for tomorrow’s schedule, as the finalised itinerary had been sent to us several weeks earlier, but I still hadn’t gotten past really comprehending that these were sites of executions from a brutal regime in the seventies. However, that was all for the following day, deciding to relax with the group, talk all things gap year and try and even out my tan in anticipation for a busy day to come.
Arriving at our Mad Monkey hostel, a chain of English-speaking hostels popular with Western backpackers across Southeast Asia, we quickly got to meet the rest of our tour group (made up of about fifteen guys and girls travelling either in duos or alone) by chucking our belongings in our shared dorm room and running downstairs to cool off in the pool. Sharing stories of where we had come from and were planning on going to, there was a mix of purposes and plans here, with several going on to complete teaching courses across countries such as Indonesia and Vietnam, others making the most of a break in between jobs, and one girl even using this trip as a way to split up the onward journey to Australia where she was reuniting with her boyfriend. Most however were like me and Alice; in the thick of their travels and starting to get a feel for what life was like in this part of the world, but with an added sense of trepidation for what Cambodia was about to reveal that I was not expecting. It was therefore at this point of cheery introductions
Fast forward to the next morning, the day started in the way that I had grown to love besta bright and early 8am trip to the local markets with our tour guide. Hailing tuk-tuks from the hostel, we jumped in as groups of three or four, making sleepy small talk as we careered along the busy dual carriage ways and multi-lane roundabouts I had been driven round the day before. With no windows and facing the wrong way, in the tuk-tuk I was now a more corporeal part of the melee, a small but not insignificant cog in the morning traffic around the city as people rushed to get to work and complete their errands, before the fierce mid-morning heat begins to sap away this early-bird energy. As we diverted from the hubbub of darting vehicles and consistent beeping towards smaller roads and single-lane alleyways, we passed locals and tourists breakfasting on traditional hot soups from small but crowded restaurants that dotted the streets. The fleeting smells of the intensely savoury beef broths that I knew would be packed with rice noodles, leafy greens and decorated with spicy chilli slices and torn up fresh herbs were more than enough to make me will the driver on, hungry and excited to start my morning of wandering around the fruit and meat stalls, listening to our tour guide as he recommended places for us to go and local
Source: https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/05/18/08/05/cambodia-2322839_1280.jpg
dishes to try. As our tuk-tuk congregation began to slow down, unable to weave through the presence of more vehicles and motorbikes in the roads, I peered out behind me to see a large yellow-white façade reflecting the morning sun, proudly announcing the arrival to our Asdestination.thecity’s largest indoor coming together of buyers and traders, Phnom Penh’s Central Market, a relic from French colonial rule in the early 20th century, was where we had arrived. What greeted us as we stepped out of the tuktuks and moved as a group past the outdoor stalls and into the building was hardly what I was expecting (something of a theme for me). The structure, designed by the French architect Jean Desbois in 1935 who was heavily inspired by the Art Deco fashions of the 1920s and 1930s, gleamed in the bright morning sunlight. Complete with a tall, domed ceiling, impressive supporting walls were adorned with small windows that resembled the French circumflex symbol, allowing streams of sunlight to penetrate into the building. Walking into the centre was an unexpected reprieve from the hive of activity milling around outside. Beneath the
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dome, long glassy counters equipped with white lights - the kind that blind you when you look at them for a second too long- serving to illuminate the range goods being sold, from glittering gold bangles and watches to flashy sunglasses and carvings of semi-precious stones. The presence of these counters also seemed to be key in commanding a sense of calmness across the busy shoppers, where traders would smile and beckon at potential customers, but always keep their distance, happy to let you wander by. It was here at one of these counters that the vibrant displays of jade jewellery caught my eye, with the pearly green stone carved into delicate figurines something I had never come across before, and I ended up purchasing (after some light haggling) a tiny jade pendant in the form of a buddha, slipped onto a piece of red string for about sixty thousand Cambodian riel I think it was (the equivalent of about ten to fifteen British pounds). Although the string is long gone, I still have the pendant, which regrettably has been living in my desk drawer for about three years now as I struggle to find a chain slim enough to pass through the hole bored into the buddha.
pass us by and meld into the suburbs, becoming gradually more parched looking as we sped along. The wide tarmacked roads shifted into dusty routes lined with sun-bleached roofs and thirsty shrubs, with street-sellers becoming few and far between. At this point in time, conversation amongst the group was still lively having just left the market, comparing what we had seen, tried, and bought, trying to ascertain whether we’d gotten a good price or should have haggled more. But as we closed in on one of the darkest remnants of the Khmer Rouge regime, the chatter turned from our morning exploits to nervous anticipation of what lay before us, with Alice and I listening in on stories of shock, tears and disbelief in the cruelness of humanity that the others on our tour had been warned about.
Originally the TuolSvay Pray High School, and now the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, the site that met us as we stepped off the bus was a set of five distinctly eerie-looking, derelict buildings that made up the infamous S-21 Prison. Reminding me of how abandoned schools are imagined in apocalyptic movies, the museum still had that school-like feeling, with lawned quads and tall palm trees outlining the pathways across which schoolchildren and teachers would have walked to their lessons; balconied
The outside of S-21, originally the TualSvay Pray High School, where the corridors and classrooms became torture chambers.
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Beyond this dome, several arms extended out which were lined with yet more stalls and friendly vendors vying for your attention. Following these spokes led us out into different outdoor areas where stalls squashed together were selling brightly coloured fabrics and typical baggy backpacker-style trousers next to fresh and dried fruit, huge cuts of meat, piles of sweet nuts and candies, and roasted insects to be scooped into plastic bags for snacking on. As a large and obviously tourist group moving through the market, we must have caused a bit of a stir walking through the market, with sellers constantly flagging us down to show us their wares, getting us to try little samples of food as an encouragement to buy some more. We were even shown a selection of sausages by a local butcher, the meats from which they were made up ranging from classic pork and beef to the more unexpected monkey, a memory that still sticks out in my mind...and a reminder of probably the limit to what I am happy to try. There are so many reasons to love wandering around markets, but for me, it is these foodie aspects that I find the most intriguing, as what is sold here is truly a window into life in Cambodia, allowing a greater appreciation of what is produced locally by farmers and fishermen, what is actually demanded by the local populations, and the flavours, textures and smells that remain popular across citizens and tourists alike. As a group, we even stopped to pick up some of the roasted crickets I had seen vendors selling all across the city, passing around these smoky snacks that were so deliciously salty and crunchy that they went down a treat. Think barbecue pop-chips meets roasted nuts…just harder to find in Tesco.
However, despite how much I relish meandering around markets, the main event of the day took a sombre turn from the liveliness of Cambodian bargaining and market window-shopping. Travelling by bus forty-five minutes southwest of Phnom Penh’s centre, we saw the cityscape
Staringprison.intently
To add to the scale of horror, the Khmer Rouge were meticulous with documenting those who came into the prison, with an archive of over
at the faces that I walked past as many tourists and Cambodian citizens before me will have done, this was something of a bizarre experience as what felt like a macabre interest pulled me. Examining these countenances in more detail, I became reminded that each and every one of these individuals were made to suffer at the hands of this brutal regime, where cut lips, blackened eyes and scarred cheeks were nothing out of the norm. Peering into the classrooms that were remade into torture chambers, I realised many had been left unchanged since the days of the Khmer Rouge. The single steel beds and shackles that prisoners were tortured upon remained untouched from when they were last used, with photographs taken in 1979 by Vietnamese photo-journalists who discovered
This place of learning and achievement was ironically repurposed by the Khmer Rouge as a centre for interrogation and execution.
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hallways between classrooms showing the layout of the institution. However, this place of learning and achievement was ironically repurposed by the Khmer Rouge as a centre for interrogation and execution, where supporters of the former capitalist government were held and tortured here, along with teachers, doctors, nurses, journalists; anyone who was deemed to be corrupted by capitalist ideals and Western ways of life. Even those who wore glasses became targeted as individuals of intelligence, and, consequently, were mistrusted by the regime. Of almost 15,000 people who entered this former school, only seven survived.
6,000 portraits of victims uncovered as the regime came to an end in 1979.Following their spectral steps to walk along silent hallways, the walls and rooms along this route are lined with hundreds of these photographs of the victims sent here, with many clothed in the state-issued black pyjamas that the regime maintained, acted to promote total equality. From mothers with infants and young children to elders, painfully thin, and often bruised and bloodied faces rang out stories of malnutrition, beatings and despair, with lifeless expressions of resignation revealing the oppressing gravity of the
Ek village mark where the trail of interrogation and torture ended for so many civilians. Located a few miles away in an unassuming stretch of countryside, grassy riverbanks and knotted tree-trunks with branches swaying gently in the breeze as they have done for a hundred years, as if never anything more than placid guardians to a quiet rural field, we were welcomed to the Cheung Ek Genocidal Centre that commemorates the deaths of an estimated twenty thousand men, women and children who were transported from S-21 to be murdered by Khmer Rouge. Headsets were distributed amongst us, and we were invited to make our way quietly along the sign-posted route whilst listening to the words of a former guard Him Huy, who patrolled and ultimately executed hundreds of arrivals to Cheung Ek.
the bloodied remains of torture victims blown up above these steel frames to truly highlight to visitors the magnitude of the horrors everyday Cambodians faced. This was an unforgettable experience, but not for the usual reasons of adrenaline, fascination and innocent wonder. Never before have I stared into the faces of countless victims whilst being chillingly aware of the terrors that awaited these people. And walking out of the erstwhile school, a place of learning, enlightenment and compassion that sickeningly ended up becoming an abattoir, stepping back into the searing warmth of the mid-afternoon sun was not enough to thaw the chill that had set inside my mind as I came to terms with the reality that millions of Cambodians suffered, and still suffer for.
Silently continuing through the site, we passed
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Following our tour around S-21, the nearby Killing Fields of the once undisturbed Cheung
Some of the thousands of black and white photographs taken of the men, women and children that never saw freedom from the Khmer Rouge’s tyrannical regime. Many were murdered in the nearby Killing Fields and dumped in mass graves.
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Standinggraze.
The quiet, shaded path next to the river that we walked along made the fact that we were standing in a place of brutality and mass murder even more incredulous.
Mass graves of mostly women and children with bracelets tied to the gates.
Grassy riverbanks and knotted tree-trunks with branches swaying gently in the breeze as they have done for a hundred years, as if never anything more than placid guardians to a quiet rural field
out from the middle of the fields, a tall Buddhist memorial building known as a stupa, designed in a traditional Khmer architectural style with a gilded roof, triangular pediments and intricate carvings supported by pillars, houses more than just painful memories and deep respect, but to my shock approximately eight thousand human skulls recovered from the genocide. Entering the stupa, we peered through the glass cabinets at these rows and rows of skulls, able to identify the various shapes, sizes, and injuries that highlight the
markers indicating the mass graves that prisoners were often forced to dig themselves, before kneeling in front of them for their own execution, often by bludgeoning or by knife in an effort to save money on guns and bullets. In rainy weather, human bones can often be recovered, littering the earth where cows now
The most shocking part of this tour I found, however, was stopping to stare at the chillingly named ‘Killing Tree’. Operating under the policy of not keeping infants and child survivors whose parents were murdered, for fear of these children growing up to seek revenge, guards and soldiers at the S-21 prison transported thousands of young children to be indiscriminately and mercilessly killed. These trees ‘however’ truly symbolise the brutality of the Khmer Rouge
Mass grave with the stupa in the background.
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Inside the stupa.
unrelenting magnitude of Cambodia’s genocide. Stepping back outside to the relaxed chatter of grasshoppers and birds flitting between trees that made up a steady natural hum, the calmness of the ‘Killing Fields’ became even more surreal, a cruel contrast against the skeletal artifacts and shrines we were passing by, and the events that had unfolded across the paths we walked.
The commemorative stupa that is filled with eight thousand skulls.
The infamous Killing Tree, adorned with hundreds of colourful bracelets as a sign of remembrance and respect.
Since going to Cambodia, the hollow sense of loss mingled with incredulity that I experienced became the spark to ignite a now-three-year interest in the Khmer Rouge and how people had to survive throughout their rule, reading first-hand accounts of how life transformed overnight such as Loung Ung’s First They Killed My Father and Christopher Hudson’s biography, The Killing Fields. Going to S-21 and the Killing Fields was a truly gut-wrenching yet eye-opening experience for me, especially having known very little about Cambodia’s recent past, yet the way I was able to jump back into being a tourist who wanted to experience Cambodian cooking, the nightlife of Phnom Penh, the boat-trips and parties in backpacking hostels, reinforces how this country has had to come back from this devastation with a sense of resilience and determination to let the best of Cambodia shine through. My gap year as a whole had changed the way I see and feel about the world, becoming more eager, spontaneous, open-minded, yet Cambodia holds a special place in how I now try to always appreciate how things are not always as they may seem, and that the long lines of destruction that may precede the places I am able to enjoy today are not always a thing of the distant past. For anyone considering a trip to this part of the world, Cambodia cannot be missed out on.
regime. The constant fear of running out of weapons and ammo meant these thick-trunked Samanea saman, known locally as Chankiri trees, were used to smash the heads of infants and babies whose parents were deemed traitors to the system. Disturbingly providing me some welcomed shade which I felt conflicted over enjoying, I lingered at the Killing Tree to take in not just the brief coolness, but the thousands of colourful fabric bracelets that jewel the branches and trunk. These offerings of respect, and prayers of peace, for the innocent children that suffered here, suddenly transported me from the hauntingly tranquil Cambodian countryside that I could walk around with a somewhat ghoulish interest, to a place and time where these fields meant only very real terror and death. The barbaric nature of such killings continues to shock millions of people to their cores, yet seeing the tree in person left me with a sense of bewilderment, a mix between numbness and despair that such events actually took place in the not-so-distant past. This part of the tour will forever remain at the forefront of my mind, juxtaposed against the buzzing markets of earlier to situate and appreciate the strength that Cambodians have had to employ over the last forty years to not only come to terms with what happened during the Khmer Rouge, but to bounce back.
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With her enthusiasm for independent exploration realised when embarking on a life-changing gap year, Emily is delighted to be fusing her vim for travel and culture with a newfound writing bug that she honed whilst at university. Primarily drawing on the unforgettable experience of journeying across Southeast Asia and India, she has been thrilled to revisit such a formulative part of her life that continues to shape how she approaches each day – especially in the context of worldwide
Map Source: Index Map 2-12. Districts and Communes in Phnom Penh Municipality Global VoyagerS | 72
Central Market
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travel restrictions that the Covid-19 pandemic has generated. With the start of a Master’s in Social Anthropology at the University of Oxford following the completion of her undergraduate Geography degree, Emily hopes to combine her love of people and places with her own style of documentation to bring the many realities of the world to paper (or screen) for you to enjoy… and perhaps even spark some wanderlust in those least expecting it.
Map Phnomof Penh
Le ge nd Com m u n e B ou n da ry Na t ion a l Roa d P rim a ry P r ov in c ia l Ro a d Na t ion a l B ou n d a r y P rov in c ia l / M u n ic ipa l B o u nd a r y D is t ric t B o un d a r y
Garden City Hotel
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Pavilion Hotel
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AmbelSre RoesseiMoungSamrongPailinPoipet Cheom Ksan Lumphat Snoul Banam Siempang Bok Kou TakeoKampotKampongSpeu VengPrey Svay Rieng KampongKampongThomChhnang SisophonBattambang Siem Reap Sihanoukville PhnomMeancheyThbeng Boung Long Stung Treng Kampong Cham Ta Khmau KohKrongKong Kratie SenmonoromPursat PhnomPenh KAM P O T KAM P ON G S P E U KOH KON G P UR S A T MEANCHEYBANTEAY S IE M REA P PREAH VIHEAR KAM P ONG THO M KAMPONGCHHNANG KAMPONG CHAM RATANAKIRIMONDOLKIRITRENSTUNGG TAKEOKANDAL BA T TAMBAN G RIENGSVAY VENGPREY SIHANOUKVILLE KRA TI E THAILAN D LAO PEOPLE'S DEMOCRATIC REPUBLICVIET NA M GUL F O F T H AI L A N D Chh a k Kam p on g Sa o m Ton l e Sa p Sreng Sen Chinit Bas s a k Tonle paS Mekong Kong San Peam Chas Mekong Angkor Wat Bangkok Hanoi BangkokVientianeKualaLumpur Manila Ho Chi Minh City HaiphongPhôngsaliSihanoukvilleSiemReap PalangkarayaPalembangPangkalpinang Pontianak Samarinda Banda Aceh Kuala Lipis Sungai Kolok PhuketThung Song Dawei Banjarmasin A N D A M A N S EA Gulf ofThailand Strait ofMalacca S UL U SE A SOUT H C HI N A S E A L u zon S t r ai t KBorneoalimantan PanayNegros Kepulauan Riau BangKepulauanLinggaka Luzon CA MBO DI A V IE T N A M T HAI L AN D DARUSSABRUNEILAM MSINGAPOREALA YSI A Phnom Penh Ref: Map No. 4365 Rev. 1-1 UNITED NATIONS Ref: Map No. 3860 Rev. 4 UNITED NATIONS Global VoyagerS | 73
Exploring Zaanse Schans and Its Streets Filled with the Scent of Chocolate
Zaanse Schans is very different. It’s a small town near Amsterdam that lost its significance because of the shift in technological development. It was once the centre of the Dutch Industrial Revolution and the home of more than 600 windmills. When you have almost two weeks to spend in The Netherlands, you shouldn’t miss the opportunities to visit some smaller towns around.
uppose you really want to experience the essence of The Netherlands.
Writer: Ali Halit Diker
In that case, you should visit neither overly touristy and, in places, downright sleazy Amsterdam nor other large cities such as Rotterdam, The Hague, and Eindhoven. Yes, they are amazing cities, and there are many things you can do to experience Dutch culture there. But—and it’s a big but—
S
Source: Ali Halit Diker
Zaanse Schans:
You should take a specific route that ends at the Zaanse Schans Museum to explore the town’s history. After the museum, there’s a humble tip I’d like to give you about something that visitors usually overlook.
The first interesting stop is Museum Zaanse Tijd (Zaan Time Museum). It’s no wonder Zaanse Schans’ clock-making craft is remarkable when you think about the complex machinery built for the windmills for different purposes. All the gears needed to make a clock are like the miniature versions of the huge ones that
That’s precisely what I’ve done. Even after a bit of pre-trip research, Zaanse Schans outshone the other places. I couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to visit such a seemingly exceptional place.
It takes less than 20 minutes to get to Zaandijk Zaanse Schans train station from Amsterdam Centraal. When you get off the train, you will probably be enveloped by the aroma of chocolate that covers almost the whole town. It’s the hallmark of Zaanse Schans, quintessential to its history, as are the windmills. As you wander to the historical area, where only a few active windmills are left out of hundreds, you might have the impression that it’s just another Dutch city. It actually is, in a way. But, what makes the windmills of Zaanse Schans unique is their place in The Netherlands’ history of industrialisation. Thanks to the windmills built mainly in the 17th century, this “Old Holland” area is considered the country’s first industrialised region.
Even though there are many tourist attractions, its museums are not large, including the Zaans Museum. On the other hand, every place, every shop you encounter is a living museum. It provides you with the knowledge of Zaanse Schans’ fascinating history.
The remaining windmills were restored or rebuilt after the 2000s, but modern technology is not part of their mechanisms. They still work just as they used back in the 17th century. The most fun part of a visit to Zaanse Schans is to have the opportunity to examine the mechanisms inside the windmills. The complex engineering used to convert wind power to produce paint, grind spices, saw wood, and make oil leaves you in awe. It’s no wonder that The Netherlands is among the most environmentally friendly countries in the world. You see that clearly when you visit the windmills and learn about their history. Even back in the 1600s, their industrial production was powered by sustainable resources at a time when the use of coal was on the rise.
After you cross the Zaan river— you can also tour with a private or group boat trip— you arrive at the most touristic and perhaps the most original area in the town. There are various local shops, such as Zaandam Time Museum, which is a clock shop, Wooden Shoe Workshop, which exhibits traditional Dutch clogs and how they’re made, and In de Gecroonde Duyvekater (a.k.a. Bakery Museum) in which you can learn a lot about delicious Dutch pastry and confectionery.
Path of Zaanse Schaans Windmills
When you get off the train, you will probably be enveloped by the aroma of chocolate that covers almost the whole town
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but not as much if you’ve been to Giethoorn. You arrive at the new Windmill Museum at the end of this road; unfortunately, it was closed when I visited Zaanse Schans. You can, however, see six of the famous Zaanse Schans mills on the road, one being the world’s only paint making mill, De Kat. It is said that the most famous Dutch artists such as Van Gogh and Rembrandt bought the paint that was made in this mill. Interestingly, neither Van Gogh nor Rembrandt painted the prominent mills in Zaanse Schans or the region’s landscape. French painter Claude Monet is probably the most renowned painter with the region’s depictions. You can understand why all the famous artists felt the urge to paint here while you’re trying to capture almost everything you see in this picturesque
People are not hesitant to answer any question if you want to learn more about any specific windmill. Feel free to ask them anything.
make a windmill “tick.” You can spend hours exploring the collection of historical Dutch clocks in this tiny museum. The museum attendant—also co-writer of a book about the invention of the pendulum clock—is very keen to inform you about the excellence of these pretty little machines. You would be amazed by his passion when he tells you that he adjusts every clock in the store when daylight saving time begins and ends. Furthermore, he checks each clock every day to ensure they’re correct because they’re hundreds of years old antiques. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of endearment towards the attendant and his fondness for the craftsmanship. In another era, he would have probably been the subject of a Dutch Old Master’s painting.
the Het Jonge Schaap, one of the two sawmills in the area, the museum attendant showed me where to start even before I asked. She took us to a place where a video about the history of the windmill was projected. The footage was halfway done, and she restarted the loop just for me because there was nobody else watching the video. I was very impressed by the lady’s polite gesture.
Following the path parallel to the Zaan river to the windmill area, you walk through traditional Dutch houses built on small island-like pieces of land, divided by narrow canals. You might feel like you are wandering around a Hobbit town—
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The Netherlands’ biggest grocery chain, Albert Heijn’s museum, is just next to Zaan Time Museum. You might want to stop by because it’s unusual for a grocery store to have a museum. The place is a copy of the first Albert Heijn shop in Oostzaan, and it’s incredible to witness the transformation of a single shop into one of the country’s largest enterprises through the pictures on the walls.
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/53/Zaanstad_Zaanse_Schans_22.jpg Global VoyagerS | 76
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You can go back to where the windmill path started and take the road to Zaans Museum. There are several shops, workshops, and boutique museums you can visit on your way to the museum, such as Catharina Hoeve Cheese Farm and Zaans Done CacaoLab.
Starting with the bakery museum would be the best choice for learning about the art of Dutch pastry and tasting delicious Dutch waffles. The bakery is decorated in such a fashion you might feel like you’re in some kind of a fairy tale, like Hansel and Gretel but without the evil witch. Instead, there are kind and warm people serving you. I strongly recommend trying Poffertjes (Dutch Mini Pancakes), Stroopwafel, and classic Dutch waffles here.
Next, you should stop by at the Wooden Shoe Workshop of Zaanse Schans and check the permanent exhibition to learn about the traditional Dutch clogs, also called “Klompen.”
On your next stop, Catharina Hoeve Cheese Farm, you can participate in a cheese-making demonstration. Cheese occupies a significant part of Dutch culinary culture. However, I recommend going to Edam if you want to have the best Cheese experience. Then, you can leave here to go to Kuiperij Tiemstra, where you will see an intact cooperage.
The entrance of the shop is arranged as a museum. As you enter, you encounter an exhibition of various styles of clogs, the tools used to make them, and old pictures of clog masters working on wooden shoes in a corridor. At the end of the aisle, there’s an actual wooden shoe workshop where you can see clog production machinery.
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8b/NL-zaanse-schans-zinngiesserei.jpgThebakeryisdecoratedinsuchafashion;youmightfeellikeyou’reinsomekindofafairytale
Road to Zaans Museum
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It might seem like a cliché, but the heritage of clogs is quite essential for the Dutch people. Workers wore them to protect their feet, and the wood kept their feet warm in winter and cool in summer. Every region had a specific clog decoration style, so it was possible to guess a person’s hometown by looking at their shoes. Clog-making is an important part of traditional Dutch handcrafts. Locals embrace this heritage even though clogs are mostly souvenirs for tourists now. At least, that’s what I’m told during my visit.
The hospitality of the people who work in all the museums and shops is delightful. You don’t feel obliged to buy anything. They’re aware of that, and they do everything to make you feel welcome. They don’t want to sell you anything. All they’re trying to do is help you get insightful information about the culture and history of The Netherlands.
It’s impossible to feel uncomfortable whilst strolling around the area because of the incredible nature, clean air, and smiling faces.
You can take a short break for a coffee or a meal in Proeflokaal De Tweekoppige Phoenix (Twoheaded Phoenix) or Restaurant De Kraai just before you cross the parking lot to enter the Zaans
There are two sections in the Zaans Museum. The first one is an exhibition that consists of items, tools, images, interactive media and installations that give information about the history and culture
Source: https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2014/07/06/21/03/clogs-385859_1280.jpg
Phoenix have their own distillery and produces exclusive gins, genevers, rums, liquors, vodkas, and whiskeys. You can have a tasting session if you stop by there. Restaurant De Kraai’s special treats are their giant pancakes which you can either have with sweet or salty toppings. I wish I had time and enough space in my belly to taste the delicacies in these places.
The Significance of Verkade Experience
The second section is where you will understand the reason for the smell of chocolate in the air. The section is called “Verkade Experience.” Simply put, it’s a reconstruction of a factory of the Dutch confectionery brand Verkade. The machinery is rebuilt faithfully to the originals that were used in the early 20th century. You can observe each stage of chocolate and biscuit production in this section. You can also engage with a video game as if you’re a factory worker packaging chocolates and compete with your friends.
Wait, You’re Not Finished Yet!
Verkade factory recruited hundreds of young women starting from the late 19th and early 20th century when women were expected to focus on their families and look after children.
Verkade is an integral part of Zaanse Schans’ history and culture from the early days of industrialisation to contemporary times. But, perhaps, one of its most significant contributions is the participation of women in the workforce. “Verkade Girls” are the pride of the brand, and more than that, even of the country. Verkade factory recruited hundreds of young women starting from the late 19th and early 20th century when women were expected to focus on their families and look after Ifchildren.allthe exposure to chocolate and biscuits makes you crave them, you can buy a bar of Verkade at the museum shop. Trust me: there’s no use fighting the urge!
Turn right and take the narrow path that goes behind the museum. You will see a structure like a watchtower a little further away on your left. If you want to have a bird’s eye look at the places you’ve been, this is an incredible spot. You can take astonishing landscape pictures where nature, history, and industry fit in one frame. And if you have a drone, you shouldn’t miss the opportunity to fly it from here and take breathtaking shots of the town. Just be careful to fly it safely because it might be a little windy depending on the time of the year you visit.
There are also astounding models and dioramas that you can’t help yourself inspecting for minutes.
Zaanse Schans is a must if you want to live the “Old Holland” experience. It’s a small village with extensive premises and a significant historical and cultural centre.
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of Zaandam, but mostly Zaanse Schans. One of the most entertaining interactive installations is the one that visualises the historical data and the locations of Zaanse Schans’ windmills. As you move forward, the timeline on the projection moves forward with you. So you can see how many windmills there were at a specific year and what they were used for.
You might think that you saw everything as you exit the museum. You couldn’t be more wrong. As I promised at the beginning, there’s something most of the visitors overlook here.
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Het Jonge Schaap
Proeflokaal De Tweekoppige Phoenix
-Ali Halit Diker
Since my childhood, I have travelled a lot with my family; later, I travelled with my friends for leisure, alone for business; now, my wife and I are pursuing to cross off many places from our bucket list around the world. Thus, we’re creating our unique story.
cultures and meeting new people is a way to achieve that.
Biography of the Writer
Wooden Shoe Workshop
Restaurant De Kraai
Windmill Museum
Verkade Zaanse Schans
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Albert Heijn's Museum
The Bakery Museum
I’m drawn to stories since I’ve known myself. Telling stories is probably the most conspicuous trait that makes us human. We create order from chaos with stories, which gives us a sense of meaning, and thus, comfort. The act is usually involuntary, but when you realise that you can create a distinctive narration for yourself, storytelling may become a powerful tool to steer your life to anywhere you want. I believe travelling and exploring new lands,
De Kat Windmill
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Schans
Source: d-maps.com
s someone who’s been living in and travelling around Italy for three years (on and off), I’ve started to notice a quirk particular to Italians: campanilismo. Campanilismo is a word that means loyalty to where you’re from – but not just your country. It’s a kind of hyper-localised patriotism, an intense loyalty to the small area around your village, town or city’s bell tower (or campanile). A campanilista is someone with a very strong attachment to the small neighbourhood or area in which they grew up.
Campanilismo is pervasive throughout Italy. Ask an Italian where they’re from and they’ll rarely say, ‘I’m Italian.’ Instead, they’ll define themselves more specifically: ‘I’m Roman’; ‘I’m Sicilian’; ‘I’m Venetian.’I’ve met people from adjacent villages who became almost comically enraged when I mistakenly informed a third party that they were from the other of the two places – ‘How dare you? I’m not one of those idiots!’
Source: Photo by RebeAdelaida on Unsplash
Eat Well in Venice :
Embrace the Spirit of Campanilismo
Writer: Chloe Lay A
Perhaps most notably to an interloper, though, is the degree to which campanilismo affects Italian food culture. In the UK, we tend to think of Italian food as a generic ‘whole’ consisting of various pasta dishes, pizzas, risottos and cured meats. But in Italy, there’s no such thing as ‘Italian food’ –especially the bastardised versions of it that we’re used to in Britain (spag bol, I’m talking to you).
Source: Spaghetti alla carbonara – a classic Roman dish. Photo by Zoran Borojevic on Unsplash.
in the ingredients and methods of each area: carbonara in Rome, pizza in Naples, cured meats in Parma and Bologna. Eating like this is the simplest way to get the very best experience of Italian food, to eat it the way it’s really meant to be eaten. It’s when people don’t do this that they’re left with a bitter taste in their mouth, for example when presented with a plate of food in VeniceVenice.is
Italians are fiercely proud of the specific food cultures of their regions, cities, towns, villages and even quartieri(neighbourhoods). If you’re planning a trip to Italy, you’ll eat much better if you stick to local classics, dishes that have been perfected over centuries of pride
In addition to oddly placed fury, campanilismo is at least partly responsible for the widespread persistence of specific and mutually unintelligible provincial dialects like Neapolitan and Sicilian. It might also be the reason why so many old-fashioned local festivals continue to take place throughout the Italian year. Residents of towns and cities pride themselves on these events, and that pride becomes quite a definitive part of their personality. If you’re looking for an argument in Italy, just refer to a festival like Siena’s Palio or Venice’s Carnevale as ‘Italian’ – you’ll see what I mean.
If you’re looking for an argument in Italy, just refer to a festival like Siena’s Palio or Venice’s Carnevale as ‘Italian’ –you’ll see what I mean.
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Source: Photo by Danijela Prijovic on Unsplash
renowned for having the worst food in Italy. Search on websites like TripAdvisor and you’ll find swathes of disgruntled tourists complaining that their spaghetti bolognaise wasn’t as good as the one their mum makes or that their pizza was doughy and expensive.
How to Eat Badly in Venice
A friend of mine who came to visit during my time as a student in Venice told me with abject horror about the extortionate price he’d paid for a bottle of Coke and a sandwich in a café just off Piazza San Marco – nobody should be paying more than €30 for that! So do your taste buds and your wallet a favour and walk 5 minutes further before you sit down to eat. Always head away from Saint Mark’s and the Grand Canal to avoid tourist traps.
Venice is also repeatedly ignored on food and travel TV shows in favour of more traditionally ‘foodie’ destinations (Bologna, Parma, the Amalfi Coast). Take Stanley Tucci’s recent programme for CNN, Searching for Italy, as an example; the series featured no mention whatsoever of Venice’s contributions to Italian food culture. The same is true of Jamie Oliver’s 2018 show, Jamie Cooks Italy. There’s even a popular saying about the disappointing food in the Floating City: eat poorly in Italy and you must be in Venice.
Don’t order from the tourist menu. Tourist menus are found all over the main cities in Italy and they tempt visitors in because they look like a great deal. You’ll see a two- or three-course advertised for €15 or so and think, ‘Bargain.’ But cover charge and drinks will often leave you paying far more than you expect, and the food will probably consist of general ‘Italian’ dishes that may or may not have been cooked fresh to order. Always ask for the à la carte.
in the first place you find. This is an easy way to pay through the nose for frozen food that’s been zapped in the microwave. Venice attracts upwards of 36 million tourists every year, and the restaurants around the main tourist hotspots are nearly all looking to make a quick buck by selling cheap, poorly made food at high prices – those near the Rialto Bridge and Saint Mark’s Square are particular culprits.
Don’t sit down anywhere with pictures instead of a menu. This tip really should apply to anywhere you’re thinking of eating, but for now, let’s focus on Venice. Any restaurant that hands you a laminated sheet covered in images of various pasta dishes will just not be presenting you with the best food Venice has to offer. Say ‘no, grazie’ and go elsewhere.
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But Venice is my favourite city in the world, and the food is one of the main reasons why. It’s a city that’s obviously known for its beauty, its culture and its history, but I’m here to argue that it should also be known for its cuisine. I studied in Venice for a while and have returned on many occasions since, so I’ve learned how to eat well in this magical place. Trust me when I tell you that the food really is delicious – you’ve just got to embrace campanilismo and eat like the locals do.
Before we dive into the best ways to eat well in Venice, here are a few mistakes to avoid on your next Don’ttrip.sitdown
Source: Is this the most famous campanile in Italy? Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash
In all likelihood, restaurants that sell these classic Italian dishes will not be cooking them to impress the refined local palate of Venetians – who simply wouldn’t order a bolognaise in Venice – but to placate tourists coming to Italy looking to order the same thing they do on a trip to a typical high-street Italian. Avoid this mistake by ordering something Venetian, or be extra adventurous and ask your waiter for their favourite dish.
What to Eat: Seafood
One delicacy favoured by Venetians is baccalà mantecato, which is a salted cod cream that’s usually spread onto crostini or crispy polenta as part of a selection of cicchetti (more on these later). Salt cod was first developed as a way to preserve the fish over long sea journeys that would have taken place for trade reasons back in the days of the Venetian Republic, and Venetians have been enjoying it ever since.
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Unsurprisingly for a city that literally floats on water, Venice and the surrounding lagoon are home to some truly spectacular seafood. There are some great meats being reared around the
Don’t order ‘classic Italian’ dishes. You might be able to find a good plate of carbonara in Venice (as I have!), but many restaurants offering generic Italian food will know that they’ll only be catering to tourists. My parents were disappointed by the food on their first night in the city;they ordered a bolognaise and a carbonara – not exactly local specialities. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t anywhere near as good as what I’d ordered: a simple plate of fresh fish served with good oil and a wedge of lemon.
Bonus tip: don’t take TripAdvisor reviews as gospel truth. The problem with review sites is that so many tourists come to Venice for a weekend or a day-long excursion from one of the controversial cruise ships that plague the city’s waters. People on a flying visit are more likely to leave negative reviews if the service was slow (really good food takes time) or the waiter was surly (for me, that’s part of the charm!). Take whatever you read online with a pinch of salt and look for reviews that focus on the food rather than the atmosphere or service. So, now you know what not to do, here is a guide to what you should be ordering instead.
Another great seafood dish that hails from Venice is sarde in saor– sweet and sour sardines. The fish are deep-fried, then served with pickled onions, raisins and pine nuts. It’s an unusual flavour combination (again, originally meant to preserve the fish), but it works a treat.
The fish are deepfried, then served with pickled onions, raisins and pine nuts. It’s an unusual combinationflavour
Veneto region, but while you’re in the City of Bridges, your best bet is to stick to the sea.
The saltiness of the sardines is offset by the sweetness of the raisins and the tang of the pickled onions, giving it what Italians call agrodolce – the perfect balance of sweet and sour. All the flavours in this dish are strong, but they complement each other so well that the dish just works. You’ll usually see it on the antipasti menu – it’s a great way to start a meal.
When it comes to mains, Italian menus offer both primipiatti (‘first plates’ – usually pasta and rice dishes) and secondi piatti (‘second plates’ –normally meat or fish, served with optional sides). Venice isn’t well known for its pasta, but there is one pasta dish you’ll find on traditional Venetian menus: bigoli in salsa. Bigoli are a bit like a fatter version of spaghetti, and the sauce (salsa)is sweet and salty, made from slow-cooked onions and fish (sardines or anchovies). It’s simple fare, but my goodness, it is tasty.
Alternatively,spectacular.treatyourself to a plate of fritto misto. This ‘mixed fry’ can be eaten as an antipasto, a snack or a main meal, but it’s always delicious. It’s usually a mixture of squid,
Source: Sarde in saor. Image by Dèsirèe Tonus on Flickr
Should you choose to order a secondo piatto, you’ll never go wrong in Venice if you order the catch of the day. The seas of the Adriatic are bursting with delicacies. Cuttlefish, sardines and anchovies abound, but you can also find delicious crab (look for moeche on the menu) and fantastic sea bass and bream (branzino and orata, respectively). The catch of the day will usually be cooked simply, possibly with just lemon, oil and salt, to let the quality of the ingredients shine through. Ask your waiter for a plate of whatever’s fresh and you’re sure to eat something
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Another Venetian primo piatto that will get your tastebuds dancing is cuttlefish risotto (risotto al nero di seppia). The cuttlefish is the less attractive cousin of the squid and the octopus. Cuttlefish tends to be overlooked by Brits abroad in favour of more familiar plates of calamari. But it has more flavour than squid, as well as a meatier texture, and it can be used in different ways to octopus. This risotto dish is a perfect example: chunks of tender cuttlefish are surrounded by a creamy, oozy risotto that’s been dyed jet-black by the addition of cuttlefish ink. It’s a rich and satisfying dish that should be high on any foodie’s ‘to-eat’ list.
Source: Three cicchetti, featuring baccalà mantecatoon the right. Photo by Benreis on Wikimedia Commons.
Source: Image by Peter Smith on Flickr
The city is full of relaxed wine bars (bàcari) serving up small plates known to the Venetians as cicchetti (pronounced ‘chih-ket-tee’).It’s often referred to by non-Italians as the Venetian version of tapas,since it’s an easy way to sample a number of dishes – but whatever you do, don’t ask for tapas at the bar!
For an effective giro d’ombra, you’ll want to stop for a glass of wine and a couple of cicchetti in your first bàcaro before heading onwards to the next one to sample their offerings. Make
How to Eat: A Giro d’Ombra
prawns, anchovies, sardines and whatever else has been caught that day, deep-fried and generously salted. You might also find it with a stick or two of fried polenta to make it more Mysubstantial.favourite
When I was a student in Venice, my favourite way to eat and drink was to take part in a local tradition, a giro d’ombra. Literally translated, this phrase means ‘a tour of shadow’, but it’s pretty much a Venetian version of a pub crawl, with added snacks – ombra is Venetian slang for a small glass of wine. Both locals returning from work and tourists winding up a day of sightseeing partake in these crawls, which usually happen at around aperitivo time (around 6pm). Venetians like a glass of wine or two, but it’s rare to encounter a drunk Venetian – they can definitely handle their drink. A giro d’ombra is a particularly Venetian way of having a few drinks, because the food that you eat with the wine stops you from getting too drunk.
Usually, a cicchetto is a small piece of crusty bread topped with something delicious. This can be something simple, like a slice of prosciutto, a chunk of cheese or a dollop of baccalàmantecato, or something a little more elaborate: marinated veg, mixed seafood, cheese topped with interesting pickles or preserves, edible flowers… the list goes on. Beyond these crostini-style cicchetti, you’ll also find polpette (meat-, fish- or veg-balls), deepfried polenta with various toppings, stuffed courgette flowers, silky marinated anchovies and so much more.
fritto misto has always been from a small street-food stand just 5 minutes from the Rialto Bridge, Acqua e Mais. It’s just around the corner from the flat I lived in during my time as a student in Venice, and I’d grab lunch from there at least twice a week. It’s a family-run place with an emphasis on reviving lost Venetian food traditions – and it really is something special. Try it for yourself and see.
Source: Image by citymama on Flickr
A giro d’ombra is a particularly Venetian way of having a few drinks
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your way through the most tempting cicchetti you see at the counter in each bar – most cost between €1 and €3, so it’s a cheap and easy way to try a mixof Venetian specialities.
It’s all about choosing well. Take a leaf out of the Italians’ book and embrace the spirit of campanilismo by eating local dishes made from local produce. Do this and believe me, you’ll be singing the praises of Venetian food. It’s simply delicious.
Certain areas of Venice have fantastic selections of bàcari, making them ideal locations for your giro d’ombra. You could start in Campo Santa Margherita before heading up towards Calle Crosera; wander down the long, wide street of the Strada Nuova; or make your way to my personal favourite, the Fondamenta Misericordia, a canal-side road that’s overflowing with fantastic eateries. Roam along your chosen street and stop wherever you fancy – the best places usually have the biggest crowds.
Venice has a bad reputation when it comes to food, but if you know what to look for and where to look for it, you’ll find flavours that are unique to the lagoon in a range of high-quality eateries – from low-priced bàcari to mid-range trattorie and swankier ristoranti – that will leave you feeling full, satisfied and happy. Avoid the tourist traps and head out of the main squares for the best food and drink at a much more reasonable price.
I’m not going to argue that the food in Venice is for everyone – anyone who doesn’t love seafood will probably be left with a more limited choice. But I myself am a recent convert to vegetarianism and I still leave the city feeling incredibly happy with the food I’ve eaten.
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Source: A great spot for a few cicchetti. Photo by Suzanne Emily O’Connor on Unsplash.
For mixed cicchetti: Vino Vero (another excellent wine list, plus an innovative choice of Forcicchetti)romance: Ristorante ai Barbacani (where you’ll be greeted with a glass of Veneto-made Prosecco)
For big portions: Trattoria alle Due Gondolette (this is where real Venetian gondolieri eat!)
Here are a few of my favourite spots to eat and drink in Venice.
- Chloe Lay
Biography of the Writer
For fritto misto: Acqua e Mais (a street-food stand that serves fresh, traditional food in paper cones)
My Recommendations
For a sit-down meal: Antica Locanda Montin (ask for a table in the beautiful garden)
For a quick and easy lunch: Osteria ai Pugni (features a truly excellent wine list –I love the Soave)
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Source: Photo by iSAW Company on Unsplash
For cheap wine: Bacareto da Lele (from €0.70 per glass. The menu changes daily, but I recommend the Ancella Nera or the Friuliano, if available)
For seafood cicchetti: Osteria All’Arco (reported to be one of Rick Stein’s favourites –and for good reason!)
Chloe can be found curled up with a good book, in the kitchen making something to eat or at the pub seeking out a new craft beer to obsess over.
Chloe is a freelance travel and food writer, and an editor and proofreader. She specialises in all things Italy and plans to make the move permanent in 2022. When she’s not travelling,
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Writer: Helen Grant
during this time. However I was soon enchanted by the endlessly lush, green countryside sprouting up around me. I passed so many wooden buildings or vans every few miles along the main roads that were selling strawberries or potatoes. Vast fields rolled alongside the motorways and dual carriageways, and stretched between towns and behind new-build housing estates.
Fáilte
Source: From Tarahill by Helen Grant
A
fter an early flight and a long car drive, I arrived in County Wexford, Ireland, feeling pretty tired, disorientated and dubious, in spite of the word ‘fáilte,’ (welcome) plastered on all road signs leading into the county. Most of these anxieties were a product of my extended isolation in lockdown and the various, and complex travel restrictions imposed on travellers
I’d come to stay with my boyfriend in Gorey and he soon introduced me to Courtown Woods which offers a variety of walking routes, accessible to people with different levels of fitness or mobility. We were lucky enough to have his five month old puppy with us, and the puppy pretty much chose which way we we’d be going. At the start of the walk is the ‘High Cross of Kilbride,’ a two metre leaning stone from Early Christian days overlooking the Ounavarra River. It is a shale Latin Cross, having one arm shorter than the other, and is believed to date from the eleventh or twelfth century. In front of the cross is a stone patio with stone benches, and it’s certainly a peaceful place to rest. The place itself felt like a prayer; so atmospheric the walk felt like a form of worship, each step a communion. We walked in a pleasingly warm sun along the river which flows under the impressively tall Ballinatray Bridge, built in the nineteenth century. This bridge is considered a civil engineering feat, with the lofty arches creating a dramatic visual statement. It was designed by James Barry Farrell who was the County Surveyor who designed several amazing works around the country.
I’d been lucky with the weather, and even when it did start to rain lightly, the calm river sprang to life with the endless droplets. The smell of wild garlic sprung high into the air with this welcome damp, the dog ran wild, happy to be alive, not yet brave enough to take a swim in the river, which I felt sure she wanted to do. A heron flew by, just gliding over the river surface, sending the dog into a frenzy. It perched on a branch above us that bobbed manically under its weight. There is a magic to this area, a tender ancient pull, and I felt a building sense of intrigue and excitement that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I asked my boyfriend, ‘where are we heading?’ to which he would only answer, ‘you’ll see.’
Source: Tarahill by Helen Grant
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beach is just one from a bounty of beaches Wexford has to offer. On a hazy but
As the woodlands gave way to a tree lined field I realised with a spark of joy, that the sense I’d had, that the woods had been leading me to something spectacular, had been right; suddenly the woods opened up to the startling blue of the Irish Sea, fringed with a thin, strand of bright sand that separated the sea from fields.
humid day I was introduced to Ballymoney, which for some reason I can’t stop mistakenly calling Ballymooney, (perhaps because of its idyllic appearance, I just expected to see a huge moon on the horizon bathing the sea in Theremoonlight.)isaBallymoney
Being both a woodland and a beach lover, I was awestruck at the way the yellow beach climbed its way up the bank, which was lined with an army of windswept gnarly trees rooted in both soil and sand. My boyfriend couldn’t have picked a better spot and I clung to his arm when I wasn’t busy taking photos.
North beach and a South beach, joined by an easy to walk cliff path. On the North beach there is a lifeguard station during the summer months, and it was from this beach I ended up finally bracing the Irish Sea, after far too long, though not after much persuasion from my boyfriend who had already been in once.
My couldn’tboyfriendhavepickedabetterspotandIclungtohisarmwhenIwasn’tbusytakingphotos.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘you’ll feel a million times better for it afterwards I promise.’ I narrowed my eyes not believing that statement for a second, ‘I’m happy just watching, besides I’m not a strong swimmer.’
Courtownday.
A walk up the beach brought us to Courtown itself. It wasn’t particularly busy with the on and off rain, but it still had a touristy vibe; buckets and lollipops outside a little shop, people sat at wooden tables drinking pints under an umbrella, watching the waves. They told me that on a clear day you can see the coast of Pembrokeshire, from where I had come. There’s a wonderful café called ‘Shore Coffee Bar,’ to grab a comforting coffee on a breezy
Source: Courtown Woods by Helen Grant
I shrieked as I ran in, knowing I had to get in fast before I changed my mind. Aidan was shocked too and joined me, ‘you have to get your shoulders in if you don’t want to feel the cold,’ he encouraged, and so I did.
The icy water cut through me and as I shivered I felt like I was being shattered into glass. It didn’t take long to adjust to the cold though, as Aidan had said, and I swam out a little way feeling invigorated. I turned back to the coast, treading the water, studying the yellow beach with its backdrop of trees, families as well as individuals, young and old, hanging their wet swimwear to dry on the branches, dripping in the mild breeze.
There is a higher cliff walk beyond South beach which was too alluring not to explore. Up on the cliff there’s a pleasant walk above the sand and the waves far below. At times hedgerows bloom with an array of bright petals and grow high on either side of the path, hiding various large and opulent summer homes. After dodging the bees and passer-bys where the path narrowed, I wandered down to Tara cove beach and Seafield Bay beach, tucked secretly into the coast.
Source: Helen Grant
Aidan laughed, as if there was a chance I’d drown between himself and the lifeguard station and the fact I’d probably not get in past my ankle. ‘I promise,’ he said, and so I went.
Kilpatrick Beach
There’s a part of the coastline that has an entirely different atmosphere, as if it belonged to some long lost era; Kilmichael Point. It is at the most northern point of the county at the border with county Wicklow. There is an old Coastguard station which is the size of a mansion and has the vibe of a country house. Below it, is a small secluded beach but we took the cliff path behind the coastguard station. To our left we could hear the waves as they crashed against the cliffs below, and to the right, the fields buzzing with insect life in the tall grass. The path took us past ruined buildings I assumed were once farm houses,
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To our left we could hear the waves as they crashed against the cliffs below, and to the right, the fields buzzing with insect life in the tall grass.
Source: Helen Grant
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Eventually the path became sandier, and before we knew it we were in the middle of beautiful bright dunes of sand so soft and fluid it was like finding yourself in a golden lake. Every step we took was an effort as our feet sank into the shifting sand. Patches of dark green, wild grasses whipped at the bottom of the dunes, while at the top, the dunes sprouted a harsher lighter grass, which blew in the sea breezes like a bad haircut. And there below was Kilpatrick beach. The dunes sloped down to meet the beach which hosted a mass of various, colourful pebbles and shells. All of this under the watchful eye of prominent Tara Hill which loomed over everything, casting her magic upon all the land around her.
The effort though, is certainly worth it. The fields of Tara Hill shimmered with bright, purple foxgloves, lavender and sunny daises, and the vista of fields below us, on both the coast side and inland, shone in so many different shades of green, dotted here and there with the odd yellow field of brilliant rape seed. Clusters of buildings, from the town of Gorey and Courtown, and many farmyards, sat in the landscape, as if they too had been here forever, like the rocks beneath my feet. The clouds that came and went changed the light and colour of the landscape below, from a moody, contemplative atmosphere, where even the plants seemed to hang their heads, to the warmth of hope and joyousness, as the sun
Courtown Beach
Ballinatray Bridge
Tara Hill is 830ft high and really stands out spectacularly against the spanning, flat,
Source: Helen Grant
agricultural land and coast. There are a few different coloured routes to hike, up the hill, from exposed paths, with panoramic views of the surrounding county, to more sheltered paths under overgrown shrubbery and woodlands. We took the more difficult trail which is called Sli na n-Og, although we hadn’t meant to. Our Satnav took us to a carpark that led us to this more strenuous route, so watch out where you park! I thought of myself as fairly fit, but I still felt the effort and strain of the upwards hike. It’s definitely worth preparing for a walk up Tara Hill with bottles of water, and snacks to hand.
perhaps derelict from the times of the potato famines in the nineteenth century, which lent an eerie, haunted atmosphere to the place. As the path veered and we were surrounded by the tall grass, I wondered if we had taken a wrong turn, there was no longer a sign of the sea. We passed a van with farmers putting up fences and I worried if we were trespassing on private land, but they were nothing but friendly towards us, and took a shine to our manic little puppy.
I did a lot of walking in my time in Wexford, and it was convenient to be staying in Gorey which is well placed for this kind of activity. I found Gorey’s High Street to be buzzing for such a small town, particularly given the restrictions of lockdown. Pub and café seating spilled out onto the High Street, making it the perfect place for people watching, and enjoying the early summer sun. I even enjoyed watching the
people watchers myself, incognito from behind my There’sshades.apub
Source:
Source: Helen Grant Helen Grant
Finding the summit of the hill isn’t as simple as you’d think it might be. Depending on which route you take, you may find eventually, either the woodland path or the shrubbery path. Neither paths look particularly promising, and it can be confusing. You just have to trust the fact you’re still heading up and keep going. Both paths join eventually in the woods before the last climb, which becomes increasingly overgrown. It was near here that I found what I felt sure was an Irish fairy ring surrounding three large and mossy trees. Upon reaching the summit and the cairn there, we sat in silence to rest a while and take in the walk and distant views. Walking back down, we were so tired and buzzing it felt like we were flying, or hanggliding back to the car.
of my final pints in County Wexford, Ireland, I sat with slightly aching, but definitely stronger legs, and sturdier-feeling lungs from all the fresh air. I watched the locals, who watched the sky like it was clearer to them, than anyone, what the weather might be doing the next day, and I rolled the Guinness on my tongue slowly, looked up, and made a bet to myself it would be sunshine over rain.
Heron Courtown Tara Hill
at the bottom of town called ‘The Coach House Gastro Bar,’ which I ate at twice. The food was filling and tasty and was served nearly as quickly as the drinks. A pub I particularly liked, at the top of town, was called Paddy Blues. Its pub garden was the perfect place to have a few pints of Guinness amongst hanging flower beds and various road signs that decorate the fence with wonderful names like Fairyhouse, wherever that might be! It was a cosy atmosphere, almost in the shape of an alleyway, with even cosier seating options under decking. Aidan grabbed a pint of ‘Yellow Belly Citra’ pale ale here, which is a local ale, as Wexford is also known as the county of Sipping‘yellowbellies.’onone
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came out and spread its light all over a land that seemed to stretch beyond imagination.
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Seafield Bay Beach Kilmichael Point Kilpatrick Beach
Biography of the Writer
Republic of MapIrelandSource:https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ireland_trad_counties_named.svg
Map Source: Wexford County Council Road & Transportation
Tara Cove Beach
Map of North Co. Wexford
Tara Hill
CourtownGorey OunavarraWoodsRiver
Ballinatray BallymoneyBridge
Helen Grant has been published in several poetry magazines such as The Poetry Review, The North and Acumen. She has been longlisted for The Live Canon award 2019, shortlisted for The Mairtin Crawford award 2019, Creative Future Writer’s
award 2020 and was a finalist in The League of Poets competition 2021. She studied her MA and BA in creative writing at Bath Spa University with an exchange year at Columbia College Chicago which really grounded her desire to explore more of the world.
than good. There is no sport nor any part of life where perfection can be attained or is even necessary, but the golfing community is particularly focused on the perfect swing, the perfect shot and the perfect score. I bought into this idea and I was not able to strike the right balance with my golf and my lifea team environment would have helped me in this regard - and it led me to walk away from a game that I once loved. Over the years, since removing myself from the ‘golf bubble’, I have been able to look at the sport in a different light, and although I can acknowledge that I
Writer: Kenneth Fairweather
Perth : A Golfing Odyssey Around Perth
I was born in Aberdeen, Scotland to a Scottish father and Kiwi mother.
People often talk about the ‘golf bug’becoming hooked on golf and having the need to constantly improve. I was afflicted. I had a desire to get better, and I did. However my need for perfection - something that is encouraged in the golfing community - did more harm
When I was 2 years old my family moved to New Zealand where we spent time in Auckland and Wellington. Whilst in Wellington I picked up golf and began playing frequently.
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One of my first lessons on the driving range at Lower Hutt Golf Club
After knowing you have invested so much of your youth to succeed in a sport that ultimately provides little return
that I, and other golfers, grew up in encouraged us to prioritise golf above all else and resultantly many had nothing to fall back on. For some, it was literally golf or nothing. This can leave a sour taste in one’s mouth - if the reality doesn’t live up to the dream - after knowing you have invested so much of your youth to succeed in a sport that ultimately provides little return. Obviously this is not the fault of golf, and more the fault of the expectations within the sport, but it is such a shame that so many young people find joy in the game only for it to be lost. The golfing community owes it to its participants to change the way we view the game because it isn’t life or death but golf can definitely be a vehicle for a great life
Wellingtonexperience.or‘Windy
Welly’ as it is often called - is one of the windiest major cities in the world
Source: Kenneth Fairweather
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may have taken the game more seriously than others it is not uncommon for junior golfers to have an ‘all or nothing’ attitude when it comes to
- provided my introduction to the game of golf. I had my first golf lesson at Lower Hutt Golf Club on a Sunday morning near the end of 2001. Each lesson cost a mere NZ$ 2 for about an hour of tuition and a lot of what I learned from those early times is still relevant to my golf game today.
In 2004 we moved to Perth, Western Australia where I joined Royal Fremantle Golf Club (RFGC), as a junior member, for a brief period. We returned to Wellington in 2005 - this time
Thegolf.environment
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Perth is one of the most rapidly growing of all Australian’s major cities. It is hugely diverse with more than 40% of its approximately 2 million population born outside of Australia. People born in the United Kingdom make up 10% of the population, New Zealanders form 3% and South Africans, Indians and Malays make up 1.8%, 1.6% and 1.4% respectively.
Next to the airport, on a hill in Miramar, is a sign depicting the windy nature of the city. It is a fitting welcome as passengers from near and far brace themselves for the occasional rocky landing. It was not too long before I would be bracing myself for take off as my family and I left for Perth for the second time at the end of 2006.
Home to some of the most beautiful golf courses in the world, Perth boasts a range of world-class facilities and is a great destination for any keen golfer, professional or amateur. From links to parkland style golf courses Perth is the perfect breeding ground for talent. In the women’s
residing in Strathmore, overlooking Miramar Golf Course and Wellington Airport. When I started playing around Miramar Golf Course I began to really appreciate the true ferocity of the wind. Located at the southern tip of the North Island, the wind always played a big factor here.
October 2006 would be the last time we made the trip across the Tasman Sea - with regards to moving homes - and Perth was where I would finish school and university. Despite being the most isolated city in the world, located closer to Jakarta, Indonesia (3010 km by plane) than Sydney, Australia (3290km by plane), Perth manages to draw in a large number of international people who call Western Australia home. A big reason for this is the demand for highly skilled workers in the oil and gas and mining industries. My Dad worked in the oil and gas industry - the reason for our many moves.
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Every couple of years my family and I would visit my Granny in Scotland. I always remember her being very appreciative whenever the sun shined because she knew that the next day’s weather might not be as generous. It wasn’t until I lived in London - bear in mind London has much better weather than Scotland - that I finally understood her gratitude.
game there are two players, Hannah Green and Minjee Lee, ranked inside the top 20 in the world that hail from Perth and in the men’s game there is currently one player, Min Woo Lee, ranked inside the top 70. Lukas Michel, who was also born in Perth, competed in the 2020 Augusta Masters as a result of his victory in the 2019 US Mid Amateur Championship.
Besides being one of the sunniest places Perth is also one of the windiest cities in the world. Varying golf course styles and weather conditions means golfers must display great control over their ball flight. Quality course management skills and an impressive short game are also paramount to perform well. To produce consistently good results, across Perth, golfers must have an all-round game, and with great access to quality public and private golf courses with excellent practice facilities there is ample opportunity - if you are an Australian citizen - to become a world-beater. If, however, like me, you are not an Australian citizen you will be left to develop on your own without team support. The prospect of progressing
The City of Light - so called because Perth city residents lit their house lights and streetlights as American astronaut John Glenn passed overhead while orbiting the earth in 1962enjoys 265 days throughout the year basking in the sun. Perth does not follow, as closely, the four seasons that are well defined in many parts of the world - the average maximum temperature during the winter is 18 degrees Celsius - and often any part of winter could easily be mistaken for a mild summer day. With so much sun year-round it is easy to take the weather for granted.
Quality managementcourseskills and an impressive short game are also paramount to perform well
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Source: Kenneth Fairweather
The 2007 Open Championship at Carnoustie Golf Links. An Australian golfer is well overdue to win an Open Championship - Greg Norman was the last player to achieve this feat - and there is every chance they will hail from Perth
The good weather in Perth makes it possible to practice golf virtually any day of the year - there is no off season. This gives golfers the ability to control their playing and practice schedule rather than having it dictated by the weather, and it is likely a big contributor to the success of Western Australian born golfers.
golf course that puts a premium on accuracy and placement off the tee. The greens are quite small therefore any approach shot that finishes somewhere on the green will leave a fairly straightforward putt. However, if the green is missed, a good short game is required to get up and down. The greens are known to be some of the fastest in Perth and have been as fast as the Augusta Masters’ greens on occasion - a testament to the ability of the NGC greenkeeping
On 18 July 1829, Armstrong, along with his six children and 169 other settlers, travelled on board the Gilmore, headed for Western
to the professional ranks in this situation, notwithstanding the plethora of accessible golf courses, becomes a much more difficult
I was firmly of the mindset that I wanted to play golf professionally and so my golf journey around Perth started to take shape. It lead me to meet people from many parts of the globe, play some amazing courses and get an insight into the suburbs that make up the Perth Metropolitan Area.
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Nedlands Golf Club (NGC), where I played most of my golf, is located on the boundary of the suburbs of Dalkeith and Nedlands. It is a short
Neverthelessprocess.
and leafy suburb that sits on a peninsula surrounded by the Swan River on three sides, derived its name from what used to be called Dalkeith Farm. Named after the birthplace of widowed Scottish father of six, Adam Pearson Armstrong, Dalkeith has become one of the most prosperous areas in Perth.
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Dalkeith,staff.aquiet
Golf is a very unique sport in that you can play with people of all ages, abilities and walks of life. From doctors to teachers to lawyers, from plus to 36 handicappers and from people of ages 10 to 90 years old, the golf course is a place that, in essence, is a true equaliser.
Australia. When Armstrong and his family arrived they were given an 1350 acre block of land adjoining the Murray River. However, after a long and gruelling eighteen months where malnutrition and disease were rife, they decided to move. It was around this point that Armstrong discovered that no other settler had acquired Swan Location 85, so he applied for a grant. The grant was approved for Swan Location 85 of 320 acres on 8 September 1831 and the Armstrong’s became the first permanent residents of Dalkeith.
Nedlands has seen a huge transformation in its history that stretches back 40,000 years to when the Noongar (name for the original inhabitants of the southwest of Western Australia) people used it as hunting grounds for crabbing and prawning, which took place at Matilda Bay. Located just in front of UWA, it is a hotspot for various water activities including sailing, kayaking and paddle boarding. The WA Museum Boola Bardip (many stories), which re-opened at the end of 2020 following renovations, contains exhibitions about the stories of European
The peaceful nature of Dalkeith allows the resident composer to relax and harness their creativity as they draw inspiration from the wonderful scenery on display. The suburb of Nedlands shares a lot of similarities with Dalkeith but offers a number of experiences that its neighbour does not.
Armstrong set about building a house for his family, which he called Dalkeith Cottage. The exact location of the cottage is unknown. The family spent a few years in the cottage, establishing a market garden and orchard, until it was sold in 1838. The produce grown on Dalkeith Farm was supplied to Perth and Fremantle and people would sail the river to pick up fruit and vegetables by boat.
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The neighbouring suburb of Nedlands, while also quiet and leafy in a lot of places, contains a greater proportion of villas, townhouses and flats and brings with it more opportunities for a night out. University students at the nearby university, The University of Western Australia (UWA) - my alma mater - usually frequent bars and pubs along Stirling Highway, which extends from Nedlands to Fremantle. Originally called the Perth-Fremantle Road and constructed in the 1850s following the arrival of the convicts it was renamed Stirling Highway in 1932 after the first Governor of Western Australia, Admiral Sir James Stirling. The 1930s also saw the completion of the Windsor Theatre and the Captain Stirling Hotel as well as the purchase of the Nedlands Park Hotel - built as a hotel in 1908 for farmers and country residents - by Stephen McHenry. McHenry purchased the hotel in 1938 and it became known as Steve’s and is a popular destination for UWA students.
In 1841 James Gallop took ownership of Dalkeith Cottage and expanded the market garden and orchard. Many years later, from 1872-1877, Gallop’s father built a house - named Gallop House - on the edge of the Swan River, along Birdwood Parade, just across the street from NGC. Built in Victorian Georgian style, Gallop House was opened as a ‘Historical Museum and Old Colonial Home’ in 1985. It was then taken over by the National Trust in 2012 and in 2016 hosted its first composer as part of the Composer in Residence programme.
Steve’s can be found at the bottom of The Avenue, a long stretch of road that goes down the hill from NGC to Pelican Point (so called because of the pelicans that sit on the sandbars). The building was restored and transformed into luxury apartments by son of Stephen, Murray McHenry, in 2007. It closed as a hotel near the end of 2006. Captain Stirling Hotel, situated on Stirling Highway, still offers a place to stay for visitors and drinks are aplenty.
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The least accessible club - if you’re not a junior golfer - that only allows guests if they are invited by a member, and my favourite in terms of golf course layout, is Lake Karrinyup Country Club (LKCC). It has been host to the ISPS Handa Perth Invitational on a number of occasions, attracting players such as Dustin Johnson, Louis Oosthuizen and Lee Westwood. One Direction also played a round here during
Despite the affluence of the surrounding areas, NGC is one of the more accessible golf clubs in Perth.
settlers and the Aboriginal people as well as details about the evolving landscape of Western TheAustralia.view
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their Take Me Home Tour in 2013. Unlike NGC the greens at LKCC are much larger and ball position on approach shots is much more important. Placement off the tee is still crucial but the width of the fairways is more forgiving. The course can be found just inland from Scarborough Beach, which has recently undergone an amazing redevelopment, making it one of the most picturesque beachfronts
from the clubhouse at NGC - usually graced with sunshine - looks out over the two wonderful suburbs of Nedlands and Dalkeith and shows the Swan River in all its glory. It is not too dissimilar to the view from Gallop House just slightly higher up. Despite the affluence of the surrounding areas, NGC is one of the more accessible golf clubs in Perth.
Source: Kenneth Fairweather
along the Western Australian coast. With crystal clear waters, pristine sand and amazing facilities, including a beachside swimming pool and amphitheatre it is both a natural and architectural spectacle.
The suburb of Scarborough was named after the English beach of the same name located in North Yorkshire in the United Kingdom. Post World War II, street names in the suburb were changed to also mimic the suburb’s namesake. The redevelopment plan was introduced to help ensure Scarborough beach remains one of Perth’s most iconic beaches and becomes a vibrant location at night as well as during the day. The Scarborough Sunset Markets held every Thursday evening throughout the summer provide live music, mesmerising sunsets and mouth-watering cuisine enhancing Scarborough’s appeal.
bunkers akin to meteor craters. The practice facilities at JCC are impressive both in terms of the driving range - open to the public and members - and the short game area. The resort was one of the major developments on the old quarry sites that were used in the 1900s for acquiring limestone to build roads and houses. Limestone quarrying ceased in 1980.
Joondalup is situated in Mooro country, which includes land as far north as Moore River, Ellenbrook to the east, the Indian Ocean to the west and the Swan River to the south. The original inhabitants of this area were the Oordal-kella people and it is from these people that Joondalup derives its name. The Noongar word is ‘Doondalup’ and it means ‘the lake that glistens’. Preceding European settlement, Lake Joondalup provided a bountiful supply of food as well as inspiration for Noongar spiritual and ritual beliefs and practices.
Joondalup was the first new town in Australia to be designed in accordance with the threeline principle, which planned for economic, social and environmental sustainability. The Joondalup Development Corporation, created in the 1980’s, planned for land prices to be within reach of the average buyer.
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A few miles north of Scarborough is a familyfriendly beach called Mullaloo and just inland is the Joondalup Resort and Country Club (JCC), which is a premier 27-hole course, approximately 25 minutes north of the city centre, where I spent a lot of time practising. It is an impressive piece of golfing architecture with gargantuan sized greens, hugely undulating fairways and
Mullaloo Beach southwest of Joondalup Resort and Country Club
Source: Kenneth Fairweather
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Due, in part, to the affordable land prices as well as the nearby beaches, Joondalup attracts many people from outside Australia, especially those from the UK and South Africa. Consequently a significant number of Perth’s British and South African population reside in Joondalup. New Zealanders also gravitate towards this area of Perth for similar reasons and there is a New Zealand shop, called The Kiwi Shop, established in 2000, that gives Kiwis a little reminder of home with treats such as Pineapple Lumps.
Australian rules - otherwise known as Aussie rules, footy or AFL, which stands for Australian Football League - and cricket are two of the
Another resort style golf course, located within the Swan Valley, is the Vines Resort and Country Club. It has been host to the Johnnie Walker Classic and the Lexus Cup as well as the Handa Junior Masters, which I had the pleasure
biggest sports in Western Australia. Since the introduction of the Western Force - Perth’s premier rugby team - to the Super Rugby competition in 2006, rugby has attracted more attention in the state. Whenever there is an international rugby or cricket match where Australia is playing South Africa, New Zealand, England or Scotland - Australia very rarely play Scotland in cricket - there is always friendly rivalry between the teams. Anyone who migrates to Western Australia might form a connection with a local AFL team, but the allegiance to national teams doesn’t seem to falter no matter how long they reside in the Land Down Under.
Resident kangaroos at Joondalup Resort and Country Club
Each of these three nations hold a strong position in the golf world and sport in general. Although there is some rivalry in golf between the countries, there is a very different dynamic at play when it comes to team sports.
As well as its connection to AFL, Fremantle contains remnants from Australia’s days as a British penal colony in the form of Fremantle Prison: it has streets lined with Victorian architecture and possesses a rich maritime history.
The encompassing areas of Mandurah have some wonderful links style golf courses. My two favourites in this area, and possibly the whole of Western Australia, are The Cut Golf Course and The Links Kennedy Bay. They are both great tests of golf and provide some wonderful views of the Indian Ocean. Whilst it was golf that often took me down to this neck of the woods it is a great place to venture without the golf clubs as Headingwell.
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About a third of the way from Perth to Margaret River is Mandurah, located in the Peel region. Noongar people originally called it Mandjar (meeting place) but it was renamed Mandurah by Thomas Peel, the founding settler of the region, who acquired 250,000 acres of land upon his arrival in 1829.
Known a lot as a fishing town in the mid 1800s, Mandurah has become much more built up. The development of the city of Mandurah was assisted by the establishment of the alumina refinery at Pinjarra in the early 1970’s. In 2007 the opening of the Perth-Mandurah railroad line helped to connect Mandurah with the city, encouraging more people to visit.
Young Gun of Wine, which recognises Australia’s most exciting emerging winemakers announced the Swan Valley as part of the top 50 list in 2020. Not only does it offer a good selection of wine but the adjoining areas like Sandalford Wines and Oakover Grounds have been host to a wide variety of music over the years. Musicians including Hozier, Céline Dion and Michael Bublé have performed at Sandalford Wines and there is a festival called Wine Machine held at Oakover Grounds. Also home to the Margaret River Chocolate Company ,the area draws in tourists and locals alike.
Fremantle or ‘Freo’ as Perthians (Perth locals) call it, marks the location of the end of the old Perth-Fremantle Road, and is the stomping ground for the Fremantle Dockers, one of two Western Australian teams - West Coast Eagles is the other team - in the AFL. There is a strong rivalry between these two teams that goes back to the 14th of May 1995, the date of the first Western Derby. Whenever the derby comes around there is a big buzz in the city and with the new Optus Stadium, located in Burswood, which seats 60,000 people, the atmosphere is even more electric than ever. The rivalry extends beyond the oval - beyond footy - and into the hearts of the people. Technically Fremantle is considered a suburb of Perth, but, for some, even the suggestion that Fremantle could be a part of Perth, is an insult.
of competing in. The Swan Valley is Western Australia’s oldest wine growing region and although it isn’t as well known for its wine as Margaret River - located three hours south of Perth - it is on the way up.
back up the coast, about 20 mins drive southwest of Perth city centre, is the Royal Fremantle Golf Club (RFGC) where I was briefly a junior member in my family’s first stint in Perth. This course tests a golfer’s ability in the wind and puts an emphasis on driving accuracy. It also has a great short game area and excellent putting facilities. Both Minjee and Min Woo Lee honed their craft here.
Mandurah is one of the most affordable areas in the Perth Metropolitan Area and the city centre has an abundance of lovely cafes and restaurants scattered around the beautiful Peel-Harvey Estuary. Home to eighty resident dolphins, the dolphin cruise is a popular tourist attraction.
The Fremantle Prison - listed on the State Register of Heritage places in 1992 - was constructed in the 1850s by convicts who were transported from Great Britain and Ireland. The first convicts arrived in 1850 and the initial work began in 1851 when building of the Warders’ cottages commenced. The building of housing for senior officers of the institution took place from 1852-1857. In 1855 the main cell block was opened to its first convicts who were moved from a temporary establishment at Scott’s Warehouse, owned by Harbour Master Daniel Scott. The boundary walls of the permanent establishment (Fremantle Prison) were also finished in 1855 and the Convict Establishment project at Fremantle officially completed on 31 December 1859.
Shortly after the end of the convict era Western Australia underwent a big boom from the gold rush in the 1890s. It brought the first significant
The end of the convict era came in 1886 when, with less that 60 convicts imprisoned, the British government decided to hand over control of Fremantle Prison to the colonial authorities. The prison remained in continual use until 1991 and is now a tourist destination.
In addition to constructing their own prison the convicts built various other buildings that still stand today. Amongst these are the Commissariat buildings, which were originally built to store food, clothing and building supplies of the Swan River colony but now house the Western Australia Shipwrecks Museum.
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I did a tour of Fremantle Prison in 2009, and despite prisoners having vacated the premises for close to twenty years there remained an air of unease about the place. From the outside the prison looked somewhat benign with the sun shining golden in the courtyard. Anybody would’ve been forgiven for momentarily forgetting that we were indeed in prison grounds. However as we headed inside the prison there was a different feel in the air. The cells barely had room to swing a cat, nets were draped across balconies that once ensured no prisoners jumped to their death and ropes used to hang inmates still swayed solemnly in the afternoon breeze.
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Source: Kenneth Fairweather
The wealth accumulated during the gold rush period resulted in the construction of several hotels throughout Fremantle. These included the Esplanade Hotel, which is one of the many buildings that still maintains its Victorian architecture. It is currently run by Rydges. The hotel boasts 300 spacious rooms, four restaurants, and expansive conference
Optus Stadium (left) and Matagarup Bridge (right)
inflow of willing immigrants from Australia’s eastern colonies, southern Europe and other parts of the world. As a consequence there were a large number of ships arriving in Fremantle around this time, which resulted in the blasting of the Swan River mouth to allow even bigger ships to enter. The port became a gateway to the region for trade and migration and a population and prosperity increase ensued.
The front of Fremantle Prison in 2009
Whether you’re visiting on a golf holiday, walking in the footsteps of the Aboriginal people and European settlers or simply looking for a place to soak in the sun, Perth has got a lot to offer. You might be hard-pressed, but you may even find a Freo local that will acknowledge that Perth is OK!
Source: Kenneth Fairweather
and meeting facilities. When the America’s Cup arrived on Western Australia’s shores in 1987 - Australia became the first successful challenger to lift the trophy from the Americans in 1983 - the Esplanade Hotel was enlarged in preparation to host an influx of visitors. The competition provided capital to Fremantle that allowed the city to remain the unique heritage place that it is today.
Nedlands Suburb
Western EsplanadeShipwrecksAustraliaMuseumHotel
Central NedlandsFremanltePerthCityGolf Club
Biography of the Writer
Map Source: Hello Perth | City Map TCETCE NSTVIEW SIXTHST ANDO Bickley Valley THE PEEL REGION Carnac Island Penguin Island Floreat Beach KALAMUNDAMIDLANDARMADALE THE PEEL REGION IclandRottnest FKWINANAFWYORRESTHWY ROCKINGHAM MITCHELLFWY CoastHighway RoadKardnup Wanneroo JOONDALUP Seal Island SWANRIVER FWY KWINANA TonkinHighway HighAlbanyHighwayyawEasternGreat MANDURAH PERTH WhitemanPark VSWANALLEY Kwinana Jandakot Morley The Vines SWarnbrooundPeel Inlet Cockburn Sound Coogee Beach Port Beach Swanbourne Beach City Beach Scarborough Beach OceanNoReefrth Beach KingsPark NationalForrestJohnParkAraluenBotanicPark SerpentineNationalParkMundijong Road Leederville Sorrento SerpentineThornlie JarrahdaleUpperSwanMundijong Port Kennedy Rous Head Bay Jane Brook Guildford SwanView Kingsley Paulls Valley Bullcreek WannerooBotanicGardens SCARBOROUGH Brigadoon Baldivis KalamundaRoad West Ocean Reef Road Drive DuncraigCarine Bedfordale Marangaroo Malaga CarramarEdgewater Mullaloo Wellard DarlingDowns Southern River Lesmurdie Pickering Brook Bickley Valley Forrestfield RivertonAttadaleBeeliarMunster Success Henderson Grove Piara Waters Mount Nasura OakfordAnketel Mandogalup AtwellBanjupMaylands CavershamBeechboro Currambine NollamaraComo Roleystone Casuarina Martin Dawesville Ravenswood Halls Head
The Royal Fremantle Golf FremantleClub Prison
University of Western TheAustraliaCutGolf Course
Kenneth Fairweather was born in Aberdeen, Scotland to a Scottish father and Kiwi mother. He grew up in New Zealand and Australia and moved to London after finishing a degree in Mechanical Engineering at the University of Western Australia. He is currently studying for the NCTJ Diploma in Journalism and working as a freelance writer, writing about sports, entertainment and travel.
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Mullaloo JoondalupBeachResort & Country Club
AirportPerth
Dalkeith Suburb Swan GallopMurrayRiverRiverHouse
Quinns Rock
Scarborough Suburb
Stirling Highway
Captain Stirling Hotel
Garden Island
Map of Perth
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Vines Resort & Country TheMandurahOakoverSandalfordClubWinesGroundsSuburbLinksKennedy Bay
Matilda CountryLakeMuseumWesternBayAustralia(BoolaBardip)KarrinyupClub
Scarborough Beach
Pelican Point
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The Many Faces of Mojacar
ojacar’s duality is embodied perfectly by the iconography of the Indalo that can be found emblazoned throughout the region. A commercial beach resort, perfect for holiday makers searching for some sun, that also showcases the authentic Spanish traditions these same visitors long to find, the Spanish municipality - located in the Province of Almeria in
The village of Mojacar Pueblo sits nestled in the hillside of the Sierra Cabrera, above the golden sands of Mojacar Playa stretching along the Mediterranean coast 2 km below. The
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Writer: Rebecca Cracknell
southern Spain - offers a location that reveals quirky curiosities and unique cultural phenomena with each twist and turn.
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steep and narrow streets that zig-zag upwards towards this historical settlement offer a sweeping vista of the beaches and bays that have made this part of Spain so popular for decades. For many visiting Spain, the staples of sunny days and blue skies that meet a twinkling ocean below are a simple request, and yet the pull Mojacar also provides is a place that is a little different to the well known Spanish resorts of Benidorm or Marbella. Upon first arriving in the pueblo, visitors will see that
Traditionally, the Indalo is a magical totem that offers protection and luck and which seems to speak of the history that lingers along these streets.
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this part of Spain has a personality all of its own. The figure of a man holding a rainbow forming an arc from one outstretched palm to the other adorns the door ways of almost each and every house and shopfront that you pass. Traditionally, the Indalo is a magical totem that offers protection and luck and which seems to speak of the history that lingers along these streets. Whether the image represents a hunter with an outstretched bow, a ghost carrying a rainbow symbolising a pact between man and
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the gods, or man searching the heavens for universal truths and wisdoms, is still debated by many today. The name seems to have descended from the Ibearean language: ‘Indal Eccius’ meaning ‘strong and powerful god’ and appears to have been adopted in remembrance of San Indalecio, who was a prominent figure in spreading Catholicism throughout southern Spain. Found painted in caves within Andalucia that date back over 5,000 years, this image offers an insight to the mystical beliefs of the region’s former inhabitants, of which there have been many! The area has survived and flourished despite the many obstacles it has faced as a part of its 4000 year history, including those posed by extreme weather such as drought and, more recently, floods but also the long lasting struggle for the region between the Arabs and Christians. You will find echoes of the previous Carthaginian, Roman and Greek inhabitants that originally populated the province (including the modern statues of La Mojaqueras) but it is the town’s Moorish history that remains evident today in the castle and its remaining walls found at the heart of the whitewashed hillside town. Once described as a ‘castle immutable’ (an unknockdownable castle), an earthquake in 1518 destroyed the majority of the fortifications leaving the Fuente More the most prominent remaining feature. However, with the ruins of the original castle
now playing host to the guest house and cafe bar of El Mirador del Castillo and the fountain having gone through a process of renovation, even these remnants of the original occupants have been transformed for those visiting today. Sitting 200 meters above sea level and clutching to the steep cliffside, an atmosphere of resilience and defiance resonates in the way in which the beautifully simple buildings offer shade and defence from the blistering sun and encroaching ocean below. This atmosphere reiterates the manner in which, in 1488, the mayor of the area, Alabez, refused to submit
Enticed by the blindingly brilliant light found here, the group of artists known as ‘Los Indalianos’ became frequent visitors to the town. The principal founders of this artistic movement, formed in 1947, were known as ‘the group of seven’ with Jesus de Perceval the most prominent figure. De Perceval was born in 1915 and by the 1940s he was working in the region of Almeria where he led the Mediterranean Arts movement. Artists working within this movement became known for their realistic depictions of Mediterranean life and culture and the group exhibited alongside other notable Spanish artists such Joaquin Vaquero Palacios and Pancho Cossio at exhibitions in
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Source: working within this movement became known for their realistic depictions of Mediterranean life and culture
https://p1.pxfuel.com/preview/267/634/390/western-town-old-historical-architecture-western-spain.jpgArtists
the local land to King Ferdinand and Queen Isobel as his surrounding neighbours had, proclaiming that, although Muslim in heritage, those living there were Spanish by birth. The monarchs accepted the pledge of loyalty and the region remained one co-habbited by Moors and Christians alike for many more years.
Here, in the heart of the Old Town, the labyrinth of narrow alleyways and tapering steps provide the perfect location to get lost for a little while. Exposed in the centre is the Plaza Nueva where visitors can soak up the spectacular views whilst sitting in the cafe in the square or take a selfie to capture the climax of their climb. For those looking to fall further into traditional Spanish life, the Museo Casa de la Canana can be found hidden amidst the maze of boxy buildings. As you descend the series of staircases once inside, you are offered an insight into the lives of those who have previously called Mojacar their home through recreations of traditional living spaces and relics of furniture and fashions popular in the nineteenth century. Visitors who prefer to simply amble throughout the warren of walkways can take their time as they admire the uniquely ornate entrance ways and balconies dripping in geraniums that make the Pueblo every bit the picturesque part of Spain that has attracted so many artists throughout the years.
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Located beneath the historic pueblo, the Parque Commercial forms the focal point for those currently inhabiting the area. Here, the image of the mystical Indalo can be found in a variety of vibrant colours on the front of t-shirts and in the form of key rings that holiday markers can clutch as they return home, along with the hope that they will be carrying with them some of its aforementioned luck. Whilst these small shops - also selling buckets, spades and anything else that could be considered necessary for a day at the beach - might feel a little too touristy for those seeking the authentic Spanish experience, there are also a number of boutiques that offer something a little more boujee. From fashion to homewares, there is plenty to browse amongst the shops that adorn the balconies and mezzanines of the building, whilst the shady courtyards below feature outdoor seating for the range of popular cafes and restaurants. Those who take some time here to enjoy a cafécon-leche will be thrilled to find that their order is accompanied by delicious complimentary donuts and pastries! Whilst the donuts may not rival the traditional churros sold at the side of the street, the generous coving of large granules of sugar are more than enough to satisfy your sweet tooth, with those looking for something
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Madrid. The art of this movement might be characterised by its exploration of light and shade and use of vivid colours which appears to echo the vibrancy of the life at the heart of these Spanish streets. However, at the same time in which these artists and visionaries discovered the region, the population began to dwindle as a result of migration and, in 1960, the then local leaders gave away land to anyone who would build upon it. This decision undoubtedly led to the rise in tourism that allowed the town to grow and develop into the resort it has become, but the influence of these creatives appears to remain evident in the bohemian energy that reverberates throughout the string of shops and restaurants running through the town today.
when the sun begins to set and the warmth of the Spanish evening stretches ahead, these same beach bars have become one of the reasons that Mojacar has seen a marked increase in those looking to enjoy all that the night has to offer, as they arrive, seeking music, cocktails and dancing. Many of the bars and clubs are now well established and popular with holidaying young Spaniards and there is an accompanying sense of youthful style that spills out onto the streets with the dance music that reverberates into the night. Whilst this seems distinctly different from any ideas of the traditional lifestyle called into our imagination by the image of the pueblo hovering in the hillside above, music and dancing have long been in the lifeblood of those living in Spain.
Mojacar is clearly a resort that has been swept along with the times and should probably be praised for the ways in which it has been reborn in response to the many challenges that form part of its long history. The area you will discover today feels fresh and fashionable and bubbling with life. Although a region that draws upon the many nationalities of its ancestors and visitors arriving today, its essential Spanish spirit still seems to remain dominant, demonstrated unreservedly by the enduring image of the Indalo Man and his arc that will remind anyone who recognises him of the prospect of a warm welcome and sunny days ahead.
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savoury able to enjoy the flaky pastry filled with tomato or tuna - the perfect treat! Although the resort has faced the same challenges to tourism that have posed themselves to the rest of Europe during the first part of the 21st century with the impact the threat of terrorism had on air travel, the financial crash and, more recently, concerns over the uncertainty surrounding Brexit, there remains a solid and thriving community of expat residents calling Mojacar home, meaning that, although the businesses have a decidedly Spanish feel, British visitors can still expect a warm welcome. Although the area might not be considered completely multicultural, those Britons who have made Mojacar their permanent residence and those returning to holiday homes year on year have played a strong role in shaping the area as it stands today that looks unlikely to be erased any time soon.
Stepping outside beyond the shops and cafes, the sound of the waves and the immediate pull of the ocean serve as the perfect reminder of why, despite the aforementioned challenges to travel, those seeking some sun and all that accompanies a brilliant beach holiday can find exactly what they are searching for along this seemingly endless stretch of shore. The Indalo’s omnipresence ripples along the road with almost every restaurant, bar or business featuring its form in one way or another. The silhouettes of the Indalo complex and the other hotels and apartment complexes that border the beach perfectly embody all that you might expect from a resort that has seen its growth born out of the mass tourism of the 1960s, and yet, the town still seems to maintain an atmosphere that reflects its traditional charm. Maybe this is why so many visitors return year on year. The beaches are beautiful; clean and well maintained and with excellent facilities. And whilst the popular beaches of Playa de las Ventanicas and Playa Cueva del Lobo see visitors flock to them safe in the knowledge that
the beach bars and nearby parking will make for a stress-free day, those looking to explore a little further afield can rest assured that they will find the same crystal clear waters in one of the many secluded coves a short drive along the coast. These smaller bays provide a more private and peaceful experience that is perfect for a day away from the bustle of the centre of the town itself during the height of the summer
However,season.
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Biography of the Writer
children. Before writing, Rebecca worked as an English teacher in a secondary school for over 15 years and still believes that every day should be a school day!
Map Source: https://www.openstreetmap.org/
-Rebecca Cracknell
CarreteradeTurre
Rebecca is a Freelance Writer and mother of three living on the border of Hertfordshire, Bedfordshire and Buckinghamshire. Through her work, she is able to put her passion for language and creativity into practice whilst working flexibly to enable her to spend lots of time with her young
Map of Mojacar
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Read more of Rebecca’s work on our website: http://theglobalvoyagers.com
CalleRaspejos CalleBrazal
Cueva del Lob8
Atlas Nacional de España (National Atlas of Spain). (National Geographic Institute). Global VoyagerS | 120
Mojacar
MapSpainSource:Source:
was founded in 1537 which makes it the oldest continually occupied city in southern South America.
ColonialAsunción’sHeritage
Paraguay:
Its ridged grid patterns of the streets and compact neighbourhoods make the historic center an easy place to navigate around and a difficult place to get lost in.
Source: Photo by RebeAdelaida on Unsplash
Writer: Simon Cooper
The buildings in the historic center are mainly 19th century (sadly, most of the older buildings no longer exist), reflecting a rebuilding and modernization project that was carried out by the then presidents of Paraguay.
A sunción, the capital of Paraguay, is the remote capital of country that’s very rarely on travellers’ radars. Usually, it’s the huge neighbours that draw the crowds but that’s fine, as it keeps mass tourism at bay and we at Global Voyagers are definitely not in favour of mass tourism, given its nefarious effects on the environment.
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What Asunción lacks in size and connectivity (there’s just one flight to Europe, to Madrid to be precise), it makes up for in history, culture and scenery (the old town centre sits on the shores of Asunción Bay, looking out towards the Rio Paraguay). Asunción
The Panteón itself is one of the finest and most buildingstreasuredinAsunción
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Source: Nacional_003.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/eb/Panteão_
The Panteón itself is one of the finest and most treasured buildings in Asunción: its a mausoleum containing the remains of Paraguayan leaders and war heroes.
of the historic center are all central to the history, religion and culture of Paraguay. As such local tourists always outnumber those from overseas.
In addition to the major sights described below, there are architectural gems to be seen along every road in the historic center. Many of the old mansions may have long been converted into shops and restaurants but the majority still face the streets through original 19th century
Thefrontages.buildings
Panteón Nacional de los Heróes
have been joined together. One of the others contains a covered craft market.
It also houses the Tomb of the Unknown soldier, that contains the remains of two children who were amongst many who perished during the War of the Triple Alliance (1864-1870). There, in one of the last clashes of the War, poorly armed children aged between 12 and 16 were sent into the field against battle-hardened Brazilian troops because by then most of the countries adult men already lay dead and the president was making a fighting retreat across the country.
Halfway down Calle Palma sits the Panteón de los Heróes, Paraguay’s national shrine.It is a fine, domed building and dominates one quarter of the Plaza de la Heroes in which it sits. The plaza, a large green space in central Asunción actually consists of four plazas that
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Such a popular and well known building as it is draws gatherings to the steps and pavements outside. Politicians like it as a place to make victory speeches and protest groups are often to be found noisily making their case there.
Source: Cathedral_Interior.jpgwikipedia/commons/a/a6/Nidaros_https://upload.wikimedia.org/
Within the Panteón, clean, white walls and stained glass high up in the dome give the Panteón a sense of calm and dignitary. Images in the stained glass depict historic leaders well know to everyone in the country. But, the eyes are immediately drawn to the altar piece that
The Cathedral of Asunción, along with its neighbour the Catholic University, fills one side of the Plaza de la Independencia.
This is still very much a working building and every morning two military personnel in full dress uniform raise the Paraguayan flag and then remain stationary on sentry duty until the flag is lowered in the evening. The various armed forces take turns in assuming the duty of guarding the Panteón.
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The war also affected the work on the Panteón. Construction began in October 1862 but, due to the war and the loss of manpower along with national bankruptcy it bought in its wake, the building was not finally completed until 1936. On October 12th of that year the inauguration ceremony finally took place.
Asunción Cathedral
Its design is based on that of Les Invalides in Paris. A clean, square building rising to a domed roof with a grand colonnaded entrance sitting at the summit of flight of steps that gives it a commanding view over the street below.
The Panteón is one of the must see sights of Asunción and somewhere that no foreign tourist in Asunción should miss.
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c0/Valladolid_-_Catedral.jpg
fills the whole of the back wall. This large and elaborately carved work in gold is the Oratory of the Virgin Our Lady St Mary of Asunción. The Oratory is one of the finest pieces of religious art in Paraguay and on a par with the High Altar in the Cathedral.
The full title of the cathedral is the Metropolitan Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption. It sits on a site that has long been important to the Paraguayan church.
The face of the cathedral rises far above with its bright white paint glistens under the Paraguayanbluesky.
I was fortunate to be in Asunción several years ago for a presidential inauguration and to witness the likes of Fidel Castro, Hugo Chavez and Fernando Lugo doing just that.
Paraguay is a very strongly Catholic country and as long as it remains so the cathedral will be in everyone’s heart as a source of pride and inspiration.
The high altar, made by the Jesuits, is coated entirely in silver and the quality of the workmanship is quite exceptional.
Seeing the church interior can be a little difficult, however. Outside the huge front doors are kept bolted and secure behind high iron railings. To attend mass is the best way to see inside.
president heads here for mass after the inauguration ceremony in parliament. For every presidential inauguration huge crowds fill the Plaza de la Independencia. At first they are focused upon parliament. Then once business there is completed they turn their attention to the cathedral as all the presidents, diplomats and officials must make their way across the plaza and into the cathedral.
It is the central focus of the historic center and in days gone by would have been one of the first sights visitors to Paraguay saw of Asunción as their ship approached the port.
A high staircase rises to the ornate front of the cathedral and its imposing double doors. The face of the cathedral rises far above with its bright white paint glistening under the blue Paraguayan sky.
The architectural style is early to mid 19th century and the completed church was inaugurated by President Carlos Lopez in 1845.
The building itself is a well proportioned neoclassical one with an entrance in the center leading to a monumental staircase and with wings projecting forwards at either end.
Stylisticly the front is where the decorative side of the cathedral is focused. Its side wall occupies an entire city block but its plain exterior gives little indication of what lies within.
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On this site was built in the 17th century the church that was the center of the 1st diocese in the district of the Rio de la Plata.
For the people of Asunción and of Paraguay this is, in addition to being their “mother church”, the building where important events are Furthermoreconsecrated.every
Government Palace
Government Palace is a fine-looking building set high above the shores of Asunción Bay, from where it looks both out over the waters of the bay and inland towards the city.
The current church was built in the mid 19th century to replace its predecessor. Upon independence in the early 19th century, the cathedral became the principal Paraguayan church and remains the spiritual heart of church in Paraguay.
With this grand plan in mind no expense was spared on the construction. For the building materials the finest stone and timber were sourced from across Paraguay. The fixtures and fittings for the interior were imported from France to reflect the style of Versailles in which the palace was to be built. The best craftsmen were also bought in from across the country and an architect to oversee the works was recruited from London, England in the form of Alan or Alonzo ConstructionTaylor.took
result Alonzo Taylor lost his access to the best materials and his workforce. It was fortunate that the structural work had been finished by then, for the only workers available in Asunción were children. It was they who added the finishing decorations to the palace, the poignancy and sense of loss far outweighing the pomp of the building.
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Francisco Lopez never got to see the finished palace as he and his forces left Asunción ahead of the advancing Brazilian forces, never to return. However, once a Paraguayan government was restored it became the seat of government until later in the 20th century when that designation was passed to parliament. The Government Palace is though still a government building and to this day contains government offices and is where visiting heads of state are entertained for example during parades.
ten years and before it was completed, the presidency had passed from Carlos to his son Francisco. By then, Paraguay was embroiled in the Triple Alliance War, which drove Paraguay to ruin and resulted in the deaths of most of its able-bodied men. As a
It is in style like a miniature Versailles, upon which the design was modelled. The palace is sometimes referred to as the Lopez Palace after the president who ordered its construction.
Being a working government building, it is not open for the public to enter and explore. It is, though, probably the most photographed building in Asunción. No visit to the historic center would be complete without posing for a picture in front of its immaculate manicured lawns.
Source: https://www.nationsonline.org/gallery/Paraguay/Asuncion-Palacio-Lopez.jpg
The work began on the palace in 1857 after the then president Carlos Lopez decided it was time that Paraguay had a building of suitable splendour to house its president and in which he could receive foreign dignitaries in style.
The Cabildo
It was here that in 1541, shortly after Asunción had been founded, that the fort of Asunción was constructed by Domingo Martinez de Irala. The fort stood on the site for many years until it eventually fell into disuse and disrepair.
Source:
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The pink Cabildo fills one side of the Plaza de la Independencia. This prominent site near the cathedral has been an important one since the earliest days of Asunción.
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/38/Panteón_Nacional_de_los_Héroes.jpgSource:https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/47/Cabildo_Córdoba_interior.JPGSource:https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/40/Cabildo_y_Reales_Cárceles_09.jpg
The Cabildo, the current occupier of the site, was opened in 1844 by President Carlos Lopez and from that date until 2003 when the new modern parliament building was opened nearby it was the home of the National Congress.
The palace is one of the most recognised buildings in Asunción and enjoyed by the public either beyond the lawns in day time or when displaying its floodlit façade at night.
Also on the ground floor are examples of religious art from across Paraguay. The rest of the floor houses rotating temporary exhibits.
With the close relationship between the government and the Cabildo it is fitting that it was the scene of the country’s last attempted military coup. This occurred in May 2000 when a lone tank drove into the plaza expecting to be part of a much larger action. Unfortunately though no others had risen to the cause of the plotters.
The Estacion Central del Ferrocarril is Asunción’s central train station. It is located in the historic centre in front of the Plaza
In its ground floor rooms is displayed a large ethnographic collection of indigenous items from across Paraguay. This is well laid out and includes a free standing glass cabinet allowing items to be viewed from all sides.
congress chamber has been retained, offering a glimpse of where government business was done for over 150 years.
In that form it has become the cultural center of the country and a popular museum.
The exhibits housed on the first floor are more contemporary. These include the history of Paraguayan music and film and a selection of historic Additionally,photographs.theold
building itself is a solid piece of Victorian architecture: the designers and engineers were bought over from Britain to build it.
Following the departure of the government, restoration work was done on the Cabildo prior to it being opened as a museum in 2004. The building is now occupied by the Centro Cultural de la Republic.
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beginning on the Paraguayan railway system in 1856 it is quite possibly the oldest train station in South America.
The station and the railways were opened in 1861 once the first few miles of track had been completed. This made it the first station on the continent to receive passengers rather than Thefreight.station
The old congress chamber has been retained offering a glimpse of where government business was done for over 150 years.
Source: Simon Cooper
WithUruguaya.work
Central Train Station
It was originally built in 1772 by a Spanish settler by the name of Antonio Martinez Saenz. Rather than brick it is constructed with adobe walls and a roof of bamboo and thatch.
Independence House is the oldest building in the historic center of Asunción and a National ItMonument.washere that a group of men met night after night to plot Paraguay’s break from Spain and its independence. It was also from here they left in the early hours of a May morning to deliver that declaration to the governor.
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The solid brickwork of the exterior reflects the fashions of the day, with towers at the far end of the station and a colonnaded walkway to keep the sun off arriving and departing passengers.
engine, the Sapucai. This historic engine was the very one that took the first passengers along the line in 1861.
During the later part of the 20th century the services were gradually reduced. By the 1990s only a few towns close by to Asunción were served by rail and in 2002 even that ceased. There are currently no trains running in FromParaguay.itsearliest
With the track around the station now buried under the road, trains will not be returning to central Asunción any time soon and so the station will remain a museum and a reminder to all who visit of Paraguay’s 19th century industrial heritage.
Above the platforms rises the station roof. This consists entirely of metal sheeting supported by an arched lattice-work of steel
Inside the station are a number of old carriages including an old dining car. Then at the far end of the station, raised up on a plinth is the little
Independence House
Rooms and offices have been repainted and restored and are now full of an interesting selection of railway memorabilia. As well as the ledgers and photographs some old machinery is on display. Words like ‘Wolverhampton’, ‘Battersea’ and ‘Rugby’ stamped onto machinery a reminder of the British “midwives” of the Paraguayan railways.
Behind them in Asunción the central station has now been turned into a railway museum recalling the Paraguayan age of steam.
In the early 19th century it became a meeting place and a focal point for me those wishing to bring independence to Paraguay. The names of these men such as Pedro Juan Cabellero, Fulgencio Yegro and Fernando de la Mora are familiar to every school child across the land.
The building has a plain and discrete appearance which gave no clue as to the scheme that developed within.
Once the line was completed, trains ran from Asunción south to Encarnacion where after crossing the Rio Parana connections could be made with the Argentine rail network.
The declaration was drawn up on the night of 14th May 1811, and then the patriots met up in the early hours of the 15th in the alley way that ran alongside the house to head out to deliver their demands to the governor.
days right up until it closure the rail network was steam powered. Large wood burning locomotives that moved along the tracks at a very stately pace. A number of these are to be found in Asunción and across the country, preserved where they finished their final run.
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In 1965, in order that the people of Paraguay could visit the site of the birth of their freedom, it was opened to the public as a museum and national monument.
For anyone wishing to learn a little of Paraguayan history and of the pride the people feel for their country Independence House is an ideal place to visit.
Source: Simon Cooper
Unlike most of Latin America, the declaration of independence was not met by a show of force. Independence was achieved without bloodshed and Paraguay was soon moving towards self Ingovernment.remembrance
Source: recordatorias_en_la_Casa_de_la_Independencia_en_Tucumán.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/00/Placas_
Inside, various rooms are set aside for documents relating to the independence and clothes, personal possessions and furniture that once belonged to the patriots. There is also a collection of period religious carvings.
of the events that took place there the house and the alleyway were persevered and protected for the nation.
turned into a cultural center amongst others to been seen.
Biography of the Writer
Once the teaching project had come to an end I returned to England but soon realised I had fallen in love with the land and the people of Paraguay. So return I did buying some land and having a house built.
Beyond these there is also the old port which sits inside Asunción Bay and the Manzana de la Rivera, a block of buildings from different historical periods which have been restored and
The area is also not lacking in fine modern architecture. The new parliament building is a striking building prominent on the skyline and the Costanera, the wide boulevard that runs along the shore of the bay is a good place to look both out across the water and up into the city.
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These are some of the architectural gems that are to be found in the Historic Centre of Asunción. All are within a short distance of each other and visiting them all or even just a selection would make a relaxed day of sightseeing.
It is now almost 20 years since I first came to Paraguay. Leaving behind the office job in England to teach English to children in the Paraguayan countryside.
Over the years I have since been able to visit much of the country and get to know well its warm and welcoming people.
Source: Manzana_de_la_Rivera.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/68/Patio_Leonor_-_
in general South American Paraguayguides.
There is much to be seen and discovered for anyone visiting Asunción in Paraguay.
Source: Principal_Manzana_de_la_Rivera.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/03/Entrada_
remains off the main tourist trails and unspoilt by mass tourism. Leaving much for the visitor to seek out in this largely undiscovered corner of South AsunciónAmerica.ispossibly the quietest, most unhurried capital city in the region and beyond it lies a green land of rivers, small country towns and open spaces. For the independent traveller there is much to be seen and discovered, and a fascinating history to be uncovered. A trip to Paraguay is sure to be a rewarding and unforgeable one.
One of the chief draws to Paraguay was how unknown it seemed and how little appeared to be written about it. There was not even a dedicated guide book available. A couple can be found now but it is still on the whole a just fleeting entry
Conclusion
-Simon Cooper
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Mariano Roque Airport Alonso
been my early evening remedy for each night of the last seven days, with this being the last before jetting home. Our week spent in Rhodes has been everything we wanted and more –fulfilling our expectations of a perfect Greek holiday.
Ravishing Rhodes sets the trend for the Greek Islands
A
s the sun sets over the Mediterranean, creating a warm glow across a sky blended with subtle orange and reds, I sit back and take another sip of my cocktail, soaking in every last moment of the day. The heat of the day is now starting to give way to a gentle breeze. This is a perfect opportunity to reflect on my week away, and life itself; feeling relaxed
in a way that is near impossible at Thishome.has
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/68/Gate_of_the_Virgin_%28Rhodes%29_1.jpg
Writer: Suzanne Lane
Their past is of extreme importance to the natives of Rhodes, who take pride in their culture.
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of the island is definitely worth exploring. Known as ‘The Island of the Knights’, Rhodes is home to the Colossus of Rhodes, which is one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. This ancient statue represents the Greek sun-god, Helios, a figurehead in Rhodes’ eclectic history. Their past is of extreme importance to the natives of Rhodes, who take pride in their culture. The island came under intense invasions way back in its day – ranging from an attack from the Minoans in the 16th century BC, followed by the Mycenaeans in the 15th century BC, the Dorians in the 8th century
Source: Suzanne Lane
The idyllic island of Rhodes is a must for all romantics, sightseers, sun worshippers and history buffs. With a population of just over 50,000, the island is the largest of the Dodecanese Islands of Greece. Complete with golden, sandy beaches and a typically southern hot climate, it is the ideal holiday destination. One side of the island is surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea, the other the Aegean Sea, with both meeting at Prasonisi Beach, located at the very south of
TheRhodes.history
Me watching the sunset with a cocktail
BC and the Persians in the 5th century BC (who, in 478 BC, were ousted by the Athenians). Later on, the Romans and the Muslim dynasties from the east also invaded Rhodes, who wanted ownership of this beautiful island. There is also pride taken in the history of the Ancient Greeks, with various monuments still remaining. The Statue of Diagoras features three key figures from 5th Century BC – Diagoras, a winning boxer from their Olympic Games, being carried by his two sons. The Python Temple of Apollo, based on the high Priestess of Delphi, is said to
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Religion is taken seriously here, with Greek Orthodox being the predominant religion amongst inhabitants. After Crete, Rhodes has become the second most popular Greek island for tourists, who travel each year in their millions to soak up the culture and diversity of their traditions. These tourists are welcomed with open arms by the inhabitants of Rhodes, who rely on mass tourism to bring in money to their businesses.
from unbearable, though, with a gentle breeze coming in from the Mediterranean Sea to prevent humidity and create an enjoyable outdoor experience.
My most recent trip to Rhodes took me to the small but charming town of Ammoudes, approximately 30 minutes’ walk north of the popular tourist town of Faliraki. This small town is mainly made up of resorts along the beachfront, with most of the tourist attractions left for the neighbouring larger towns. Our resort had everything we needed for a family trip with young children –miles of golden beaches to play or relax on, pools to cool down in and enough food and drink to keep us replenished the whole week through. We have had a whole week of fun-filled splendour – from splashing about in huge inflatable doughnuts in the clean, blue water, to taking wacky photographs, to laughing until we cried at hilarious antics of a hotel led animation team. In the evenings, we have danced to traditional Greek music, with trained dancers making sure not a single person was left sitting out the infamous ‘Zorba’s dance’, Greek Mixed Grill
Source: Suzanne Lane
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be the ancient oracle of the area, and was built back in the 4th century BC. The remains of the Ancient Olympic Stadium, situated in South East Acropolis, date back to the 3rd century BC and show the original layout of the running track and stands for the Stadium, thanks to restoration work from the Italians.
Symi Island
This is an island that I have a particular soft spot for; having visited several times in the past, and always my number one choice to return to for much needed holidays, sunshine and a chance to get away from the monotony of everyday living. It is the ideal place to relax, and re-gather thoughts, with the picturesque landscapes of the rolling hills and the tranquil lapping of the waves against the shore. Whenever we touchdown in Diagoras International Airport, I am straight away transported into a land of warmth and nostalgia, coupled with great food and tranquillity. I have had the pleasure of visiting in May, July and October, with the earlier months being the hottest and the latter a pleasurable 22-27 degrees. The heat is far
Source: Suzanne Lane
If you want culture, then Rhodes Town (located at the most Northern ‘tip’ of the island) is the best place to visit. Made up of the ‘Old Town’ and ‘New Town’, the architectural history is laid out around every corner of the cobbled streets. The Old Town is the oldest medieval city (it actually predates the medieval period, dating back to 408 BC) still around today and is part of the UNESCO World Cultural Heritage Network. There are museums (such as the wonderful Archaeological Museum) and old palaces aplenty (like the Palace of The Grand Master) in amongst the historic medieval city walls, instantly transporting you back to a past era. On this trip I didn’t get a chance to visit the Palace, but it is on my go-to list for my next vacation there, as I am so interested in finding out more about the building’s architectural history. Take a walk along The Streets of the Knights (a 200 metre long 14th century cobbled street) or stroll
Source: Suzanne Lane
The waters here were the clearest and purest I had seen, and we spent ages swimming under water looking for fish.
to even joining in with the tradition of plate smashing (which my son took full advantage of, immersing himself in a playground of fun and Falirakichaos).
is one of the more dynamic and vibrant towns of the mostly quiet Rhodes. Packed full of bars, restaurants and shops, it is the go-to town for visitors who would like to experience some nightlife as part of the holiday. Surrounded by crystal clear waters and expanses of golden beaches, Faliraki contains all the components of a perfect holiday –space to relax during the day and enjoy the sights in the evening. Tourism is rife in Faliraki, with gift shops packed with memorabilia on every street, and an abundance of British and EU tourists have even set up home here, running the bars and restaurants, just due to their sheer love of the country. The impression is given whilst walking around the streets of Faliraki that the foreigners who have decided to live here are well respected by the natives, and have been welcomed with open arms into the community. There is still a hint of nostalgia though amongst the Faliraki
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streets, with the atmosphere feeling typically Greek. In fact, tourism is huge for the economy throughout Rhodes as a whole, especially since it has recently become one of the most visited of the Greek Islands. The locals make their guests feel extremely welcome, and myself and my family were happily invited in to share in the atmosphere of the restaurants and bars. Faliraki is home to one of the most gorgeous beaches in Rhodes, with acres upon acres of golden sand, and also some of the best medieval architecture in their buildings and shops.
Myself and my family whittled away hours watching the boats arrive in the quay – a mixture of small fishing ships up to large cruisers that floated mesmerizingly across the clear waters. This convinced us to take a boat tour over to Symi island – a small haven off the coast of Rhodes. Symi Island is an island similar to that of Santorini, another popular Greek island – with tiny coastal homes with views of miles of sea. When the boat pulled up at the island, we were left to wander alone, whereby we headed straight to the swimming stop at St. George’s Bay. The waters here were the clearest and purest I had seen, and we spent ages swimming under water looking for fish and floating on the surface staring up at the glorious sun amongst clear skies. Symi Island is best known for its shrimp, which we got to experience the delicious tastes of at one of their many seaside restaurants, Haritomeni Taverna. This gorgeous restaurant gave five star service from welcoming staff, with outdoor tables overlooking the majestic landscape. As well as the sea food, they offer large portions of other meals such as a traditional Greek meat grill, and to finish an array of inviting desserts (though we had such a big portion for our main we could not squeeze in the dessert!) The great thing about the food in Greece is that it is cooked healthily, so that even when eating the large portions it is still a healthy alternative to a lot of the restaurants back home.
around the impressive fortress walls. The New Town, along with the Hippocratic Square give an endless supply of eateries and tavernas, bringing a sense of the modern to what otherwise could be deemed a town more aptly belonging in its history. I would recommend a visit to the Laiki, which is a highly sought after market there every Wednesday and Thursday, selling an array of locally sourced fruits and fresh fish (which tasted utterly delightful, and so much fresher than when brought from supermarkets back at home). I could get lost for hours meandering down the streets and alleyways of Rhodes Town, exploring the inviting architecture and immersing myself in the culture and history.
Source: Lindos%2C_Rhodes._Greece.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/08/
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In amongst this glittering history, is the aforementioned Palace of the Grand Master, built during the Byzantine period, which houses priceless ornaments within the solid walls. Art lovers will enjoy the Archaeological Museum, which includes vases, jewellery and mosaic paintings from yester-year. Works of art date back to 550BC, in the form of two headless Archaic Kouroi (a Greek statue that represents a young male). The Museum is also home to a nude statue of Aphrodite, a stone homage to the Greek Goddess of love, dating back from 100 BC, portraying how Rhodes has always been an eclectic blend of culture and art.
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One of the most notable characteristics of Greek culture is its food. Tasty lunches of Greek salads with lashings of feta and olives or colossal mezze boards, mouth-watering dinners filled with souvlaki and moussaka. In between snacks of gyros. But the best part of all? The desserts! Their traditional baklava, loukoumades and kataifi rolls are to die for, with no matches for these sweets treats back home. Then to wash it all down with locally sourced wines (and on a couple of occasions a shot of ouzo, or two!). I also delighted in the glittering array of
On a previous jaunt to the island, we visited the stunning town of Lindos. This is mostly known for being a fishing village, and is located on the East Coast, approximately 40 kilometres south of the Old Town. Lindos has much of the charm of the main town of Rhodes, with its charming shops and small taverns, but is much quieter with fewer tourists. It houses the grand hilltop archaeological site of Lindos Acropolis, which I found to be the most impressive of all the old buildings I have seen in many years at Rhodes. If not just for the history, but also for the spectacular views from the top of the hill, over the picturesque coastline. The Acropolis is a natural citadel, where many of the buildings there from history still have signs of their existence, including The Temple of Athena Lindia, dating back from 300BC and the remains of a Roman temple from when they were stationed in Rhodes.
Source: Suzanne Lane Suzanne Lane
A journey inland took us to the popular tourist attraction of the Valley of the Butterflies. This was a magnificent half day tour, viewing tens of thousands of butterflies of varying colourful species. We walked along the rocky surface, marvelling at the overhanging flowering plants and rushing waterfalls, the home of the butterflies. This majestic haven is fascinating for nature lovers and those with a passion for the great outdoors, even in the warmth of the summer months.
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As the skies turned to grey, the heavens opened over the island and the rain lashed down fast and furiously.
One balmy evening we witnessed our first ever Greek tropical storm. As the skies turned to grey, the heavens opened over the island and the rain lashed down fast and furiously. Yet, unlike rain at home, there was something mesmerising (I’d say ‘Biblical’ but, of course, civilisations on Rhodes pre-existed the Christian era so I suppose the storm was a sign that Zeus, the Greek God of Thunder, had in some way been irked) about watching this storm, as we sat on our balcony sipping cocktails and marvelling at just how much water was coming down in the space of moments, yet still within 25 degrees temperatures. Safe to say, the rain did not last for long, and cleared so quickly I nearly believed I dreamed the whole glorious experience.
Source: Grand_Master_of_the_Knights_of_Rhodes_%289451928431%29.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f1/Palace_of_the_
cocktails on offer; my glass filled with an exotic arrangement of colours and flavours that left me wanting more.
Over the week, we had the chance to interact with a range of people from all walks of life –those who have lived in Rhodes their whole lives, those who have moved there to experience some all year round Mediterranean sun, and those who are just there for the season. Every local we spoke to went out of their way to be unbelievably polite and friendly; giving us advice on the best places to go, or foods to try or culture to experience. There is an air of relaxation in their personalities, mirroring the slow pace of
So, as I gaze over the majestic landscape for the final time, I feel lucky to be able to share in such a quintessentially charming and idyllic island
Traditional fruit market cart
Hi! My name’s Suzanne, and I’m a Freelance Writer from the West Midlands in England. I write for various websites and have also
Source: Suzanne Lane
published one adult fiction novel and four children’s books. I love writing and reading in my spare-Suzannetime. Lane
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just a few hours plane ride from home. I will miss the miles of golden, sandy beaches, the sound of the waves as they softly lap against the shore, the sky turning a mix of reds, oranges and golds as the sun sets on another day, the mouthwatering tastes, the eclectic personalities of the hotel team and locals. Safe to say, I will be back as soon as I can, even if just to stock up on the desserts!
life there and how it is impossible to get carried away with stresses. The locals were humble, welcoming and full of fun, especially as the evening rolls around – the endless dancing and singing says it all!
Biography of the Writer
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International
Map Source:
of Rhodes Prasonisi MesanagrosKattaviaHochlakasC.GermataC.AngomasiLachaniaVatiArnithaGennadi Lardos Pefki C.LardosC.Agh EmilianosKalathosLindos KolymbaC.Vagia PylonasMasariMalonas Archangelos Archipoli Platania Apollona Embona KritiniaC.Kopria Skalakos Dimylia PsinthosMaritsaAfandouKalythiesKalavardaC.Agh. Mina Fanes Soroni TheologosDamantriaParadeisiKremastiPastidaLalysosC.MyloiKoskinouFalirakiC.Vodi Laerma Istrios SlanaC.ArmenistisMonolithos IsidorosAgios Asklipio Profilia Apolakkia Gennadi boy Vilha BayMalonasbayarchangelosbayAfandoubay
Prasonisi Beach Colossus of Rhodes Statue of Diagoras Python AncientTempleOlympic Stadium TempleLindosLindrosValleyWayRhodesFalirakiAmomudesTowntoSymiIslandoftheButterfliesTownAcropolisofAthenaLindia
Kaltheabay
Map
ApolakkiasapothciusLakeBay Rhodes
php?id=96&name=rhodes-greece-map.jpghttps://maps-greece.com/download. Map Source: Office of Information and Communications Technology Geospatial Information Section Náxos Astipálea Kálimnos Amorgós Ikaría Sámos Kárpathos Ródos Kos Kássos Pátmos Simi Tílos Megísti Níssiros Léros Anáfi AgiosNikólaos Vathí Ródos Híos T UR KE Y
Triandabay - Diagoras Airport (RHO)
● St. Anthony’s Gate ● D’Amboise Gate●St. Athanasios’ Gate ● St. John’s Gate (The Red Door) ● Akandia Gate ● Thalassini Gate (Marine Gate) ● Arnauld Gate (Colonna Gate) ● Freedom Gate ● St. Paul’s Gate (Arsenal Gate)● Virgin Mary’s Gate●St. Catherine’s Gate × Palace of the Grand Masters × Our Lady of the Castle Church × Inn of Auvergine × Inn of England× Medieval Clock Tower × Mosque of Suleyman the MagnificentArcheologic Museum × (15th century hospital) × Naillac Tower Temple of Aphrodite × COLONNAHarbour Armoury × × St.TowerPeter’s × Bastion of St. George × Tower of Spain × Tower of the Virgin Mary × Bastion Del Carretto × Jewish Martyrs’ Square × Our Lady of the Burg Church × Hippocratous Square Mandraki Windmills × × Fort of St. Nicholas (tower & lighthouse) × Pagnac Tower MANDRAKIHarbour COMMERCIALHarbour TOURISTHarbour ×SquareAthena Original Hospital × (14th century) Street of the KnightsSocratous Street NewTownRhodes Old ArchealogicalNewTownTown Museum Palace of the Grand Master Streets of the Knights Hippocratic Square Way to Laiki Market Rhodes Town Map Source: destination-old-rhodes-town Global VoyagerS | 141
splendor in every possible way, making most other airports incomparable, there’s just something else about Hanoi’s Noi Bai airport which has, shall we say, an organic feel to it.The sheer busyness and the hordes of assiduous airport workers, the utterly strong racket in terms of the combined levels of the overwhelming sound of dialects and tones, and even the somewhat surly and militant officials who present you with your temporary visa upon arrival,
Hanoi Rocks! Walk with caution in Hanoi, a city with a French colonial history but, be on the qui vive for the quirkiness !
s you get off the plane and walk into Hanoi’s Noi Bai airport, your senses become attuned to a vital need to imbibe as much as you can with your eyes and ears. It could have something to do with being in a new environment, a situation that invariably pushes the senses in to a heightened state.
Source: https://pixabay.com/get/g937467f048c08145c42799635b95402b3a47707e7ace0f67be5782c3e573b0af7c8a2bbf70a8370e4e8f43788e05fbf0.jpg?attachment=
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Writer: Thrusha Maharaj
The contrast couldn’t be starker:arriving from Changi airport in Singapore, with its visually entrancing opulence and
It is insanely weird to see how products are transported on these heavily reliedupon motorcycles.
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these motorbikes. The sight of entire families on a motorbike is not uncommon in South-East Asian countries. In Vietnam, however, I was aghast at the bizarre collection of products which range from chirpy birds in cages, to pet fish in packets, or chuckling chickens in cages, and the emphasis here is on multiple cages and packets stacked on top of each other. Even huge, odd-shaped furniture, to crates with various goods, building material, and virtually any product you can think of, sees its way onto these motorbikes. This can only be done with great skill, not just in the packing but of course in the driving and manoeuvering. It is insanely
Source: https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2018/08/16/08/45/hanoi-3609871_1280.jpg
is an experience to take note of. Some of these officials can seem highly intimidating with their stone-cold stares and non-verbal communication which, ironically, can be perfectly construed. I collected my visa with ambivalence in that I felt more than a hint of terror, just by looking at them, coupled with excitement and joy at the thought of being in Vietnam! This is a place I have always wanted to visit.
Old building and Ngoc Son temple on Hoan Kiem Lake
Hanoi, like most third world megapolises, is just buzzing. There is an assault on your ears as the loud sounds of motorbikes in their droves drive chaotically parallel to the cars and taxis as you leave the airport and travel to your hotel. Vietnam, like a few other Asian countries, has one of the highest motorbike ownership rates in the world. So, when in Vietnam, expect to contend with these two wheeled modes of transport at every turn and corner.
Although one ought to be very careful in crossing the roads of Hanoi, and it is exasperating to see the copious flow of motorbikes when walking or travelling by car, it is also mesmerizing to see the weird and wonderful stuff people carry on
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also begs the question of how some perfectly ‘intelligible’ people can endorse such practices with the production of skin lightening creams which seem to be common in some countries. However, that is another discussion about Capitalism on its own.
The Old Quarter in Hanoi is atmospheric unlike most other places I have been to. It’s like stepping into an amazing place in a different time zone. Enchanting and luring, the quirky
Hordes of motorcycles that pervade the roads
I also remember seeing the mask vendors in Hanoi carry huge carts with colourful masks (for protection of pollution levels pre-pandemic) of every colour and pattern. The sight of these vendors pulling their huge carts of masks in Hanoi remains etched in my memory as I recall their faces and hands which illustrated a life of hard work and service under a merciless sun and in sapping humidity. The effects of Globalisation obviously hadn’t trickled down here.
weird to see how products are transported on these heavily relied-upon motorcycles. The driver is barely visible as the products on the bike completely mask any view of this very adept human being. For me this was more entertaining than most tourist hotspots. This is about regional idiosyncrasies at their best.
Another sight which caught my eye, and hard to ignore, but not to my liking, was the urge for many people to want to cover up every inch of their body. I could not figure out why men and women alike wore gloves and complete covering head gear in the blazing sun while going about their normal activities. When I enquired from a Vietnamese acquaintance, she said it had to do with protection from the sun. It seems there is this need for people to want to keep their skin colour as light as possible and to therefore protect it from being darkened by the sun. This phenomenon of wanting to be lightskinned, which has a deep association to beauty and being ‘better looking’, and somewhat shallow in my opinion, is also not uncommon in many South East Asian countries. The mind boggles in terms of how the psyche works. It
Source: Thrusha Maharaj
Pho - soup
Source: Thrusha Maharaj
The road of toy shops on the other hand seemed like a serendipitous encounter for many a child wanting to feast their eyes on the vast range of fake and real toys on offer. Toys ranged from Pokemon characters to electronic replicas of various popular gadgets and games to dolls and kitchen sets. Here the shops were noisy and busy with families and kids, many kids! The glee on my Vietnamese friend’s little boy’s face
was worth seeing as he was asked to choose a toy from this cave of (toy) treasures.
For Kim, Hanoi seems to be changing rapidly in terms of the emerging Western culture and influence. However, she says holding on to
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Bai Hoc Tong Hop university
Inside Bai Hoc Tong Hop university
My friend Kim is from Hanoi. Her surname is Nguyen. I was confused as to why her name appeared everywhere, like on TV, or on shop names or companies. I came to learn that this surname is so common that almost half of the population in Vietnam has the last name Nguyen. The surname is also common globally of course, as many have left Vietnam and settled abroad, and is particularly common in Australia I’m told. When Kim says Nguyen, she says it with ease. I have heard so many versions of the pronunciation of Nguyen. Nonetheless, you can be sure that every few people you might come across in Hanoi, or any other Vietnamese city for that matter, has this surname which means ‘musical instrument’.
narrow streets which look like they are from an era perhaps in the early 20th century, house all kinds of goods. The streets’ look is old and authentic, yet colourful and vibrant. There is clutter and clamour and anarchic businesses firmly claim their places on these streets. It’s a far cry from the air-conditioned, sanitized malls of SE Asia! There’s a street devoted entirely to shoe shops! Interestingly, these shops were never busy and I pondered if the tired looking sales people, who looked like they would rather be somewhere else, understandably, actually made the target sales for the day.
Source: Thrusha Maharaj Source: Thrusha Maharaj
lecture theatre, yet the surroundings of huge walls and antique-like lighting and flooring was what differentiated this lecture theatre from most others. From governmental buildings to museums, and beautiful houses, they are all reflective of French colonial influence in some way or another. As I walked the streets of Hanoi I was intrigued to even hear a little bit of French here and there.
traditions like wearing traditional clothing, like the aodai which is a very beautiful and regal silk tunic with pants, are very much upheld. These are worn during religious ceremonies or celebrations like birthdays. Bonding between families in Vietnam is also cherished. Even when sons and daughters marry and leave home they still make time to visit their parents during weekends to have a meal together. This is a very significant family value. They also bond with relatives during religious and cultural ceremonies like praying to ancestors and coming together to plant trees or sharing food from fruits they have grown or chickens they have raised on farms. These simple acts of love and care embody the pride felt by the Vietnamese people.
Some of the more popular dishes include the French pate baguette with Vietnamese ham, the ever popular soup dish Pho (beef or chicken), BBQ pork with behoon or noodles and spring rolls, sticky rice and rice cakes with minced meat, to name a few. Particularly scrumptious for me was the Vietnamese spring roll, both fried or plain summer spring rolls. These rolls are essentially the same as both are made from rice vermicelli and filled with either meat, chicken or prawn and vegetables and can be eaten plain or deep fried. These dishes are also commonly made by the locals at home. However, according to Kim, regulars prefer going to their favourite haunts which specialize in each of these dishes and have a loyal clientele particularly in the ancient quarters of Hanoi.
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Kim took me on a walking tour of the French Quarter of Hanoi and all the charming buildings with its resplendent architecture. Nestled in between some of the more modern buildings are many art galleries which sell various paintings indicative of some aspect of Hanoi, usually the buildings and temples. We even visited her old university Dai Hoc Tong Hop. Not a huge building but a beautiful one which gives the feel of a museum. It is so well preserved and clean. We walked into a lecture theatre where we spotted some students sitting on the typical lecture layout in the downward rows of seats not unlike any other university
Kim says: “Hanoi is heavily influenced by French culture. People in Hanoi love literature, poetry, painting, singing, and dancing. They are also food lovers.”
Kim Nguyen says: “the French language was also really popular among intellectuals in my grandparents’ generation before 1945, when only the very elite were selected to study in French medium schools. It was then that the language was most commonly used. Now, however, it seems English is the most popular foreign language amongst the younger generation.”
The French style cafes also entice one into peeking through the windows to get a glimpse of the many French types of food and pastries which the people in Hanoi (tourists and locals) obviously relish. The fresh croissants and other mouthwatering sandwiches, like baguettes, displayed in these cafes are enough to beguile one into trying them out even if you’re not really hungry!Coffee and coffee shops are an integral part of the city. Vietnam is apparently also very successful in coffee production and is one of the leading coffee producers in the world. It seems the colonial past of French influence still has a strong visual and culinary presence in cuisine, culture, education, fashion, and architecture, to name a few.
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The French influence became increasingly prominent from 1859 onwards, as the French began occupying parts of the country. Vietnam eventually became part of the French colony called French Indochina in 1887.So, although French colonialism ended in 1954, the city retains its Francophile characteristics. Apparently even now, French is still an extremely popular language chosen by students in Vietnam.
The smell of the incense sticks as you approach these temples wraps a calmness over all who enter. How these temples have been maintained from as far back as the 9th century, it is believed, to its present-day pristine state, is admirable. It would be good to know more about those who work hard to preserve the temples, however, when visiting these temples, one feels compelled not to talk or make eye contact with anyone, but to respectfully proceed with one’s purpose of praying.The temples are situated all over Hanoi
It is quite evident that eating lunch on the streets of Hanoi is a well-loved and regular practice. The lunchtime sight of numerous office workers occupying low seating plastic stools on the pavements all over Hanoi was a feast for the eyes on its own. Clad in office attire, they seize the spaces all over the city and sit relaxed on their stools enjoying a reasonably priced meal. They eat with purpose and enjoyment.
Although Vietnamese is the official language I found it was not really all that difficult to communicate with most people in the touristy areas of Hanoi. The locals are able to speak bits of English on all levels. Some spoke with difficulty and others were resolute in their desire to haggle in a humorous way with gestures and broken English, while others spoke ‘well’, albeit a loss of translation can and will occur at some points. Even if it is tedious at times, this is all part of accepting the personalities of those in Hanoi and it adds to the experience of being in a new place for the first time.
The Old Quarter of Hanoi also accommodates various temples which have withstood the test of time. Fascinating, culturally rich stories of magical swords, Buddhist monks, and Gods and Godesses, behind the origin of these extremely ancient temples like the Tran Quoc Pagoda, the One Pillar Pagoda and the one around the Sword Lake (ho Guom) Ngoc Son Temple have been carried over the years. The Buddhist temples with Buddhist symbolism were of special interest to me. Walking into these temples of architectural marvel is all entrancing. It’s hard not to notice how devout many of the temple worshippers are. Worship is observed with fervour with the Buddhist rituals. Besides visiting the temple, the Buddhist religious traditions are also held at home where people pray on the first day and in the middle of the Lunar month.
and in the city. The interesting ancient temple like landmark called the Tortoise Tower which sits on its own little Island in the centre of the Hoan Kiem Lake, is also very centrally located in the Old Quarter. The obvious dichotomy between new and old is evident with the temples and the modern buildings which can also be seen in the distance.
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Source:https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2019/02/06/16/39/tet-3979500_1280.jpg
From unusual water puppets to quaint little hotels in the old quarter, from the rows and rows of shops and karaoke bars in the newer parts of Hanoi, to the perhaps not so environmentally omnipresent motorbikes, one thing for certain about Hanoi is that the people here are unapologetically engaged to the fullest in all they do and the stories behind the people of Hanoi are indeed entertaining. This capital city of Vietnam is culturally and historically rich. However, it is also a city of somewhat appealing quirkiness which is just naturally evident. A city free of pretentions in which the old and new co-exist, the eccentricities in the aesthetic appeal of the people and their practices.
Source: Vietnam_%2811827167964%29.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/77/Hanoi_
Thrusha Maharaj is a South African born freelance journalist and part-time lecturer in International Journalism, based in Liverpool.
Map Source: https://moovitapp.com/index/public-transit-maps/?map=Vietnam_Hanoi_map.pdf
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Meliá Hanoi
Map of Hanoi
Tran Quoc Pagoda
Mövenpick Hotel Hanoi Sofitel Legend Metropole Hanoi Hanoi Marvellous Hotel & Spa
One Pillar Pagoda Sword Lake Hoan Kiem Lake
Bach Mai airport Old DaiFrenchQuarterQuarterHocTongHop university
Hanoi La Siesta Hotel & Spa Hilton Hanoi Opera
and Asia. She has covered stories in education, human interest, entertainment, politics, sport, business, welfare, crime, and travel. She has a Masters degree in Journalism.-Thrusha Maharaj
She has worked as a broadcast and print journalist and as an academic in Africa, Europe
Biography of the Writer
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zones | news.com.au — Australia’s leading news site) – and what kind of avid travel enthusiast doesn’t want to find themselves caught up in Inthat?any
case, the people who imagine this image are quite wrong. In fact, they are so wrong, they are almost right. Not because I was almost in this situation at any point, but because I habitually imagined myself in this situation. By a certain point, I was so disengaged from the act of travelling, that whilst travelling physically, I was also simultaneously travelling mentally, and therefore, unintentionally, hypothetically.
Not because I was almost in this situation at any point, but because I habitually imagined myself in situation.this
fresh green coconuts served on a platter by a waiter named Javier, whose primary features include washboard abs, a smile that could charm a snake, and Speedos paired with a dickie bow tie as he offers to make you Sex on the Beach. There are palm trees swaying in a light warm breeze, and in this conjured image, they imagine said traveller is resting peacefully in a shaded hammock suspended three feet off the floor above a glossy beach, somewhere dangerous and exotic, like say, Tulum… which happens to be a prime playground for the Mexican drug Cartel (Mexican drug cartels dismember victims, turn holiday hot spots into war
Writer: Jason Russell
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I was never in Tulum
I travelled often and vaguely throughout my twenties, never really being here or there for any specific amount of time, and often I moved around without a logical plan of action as to where I would next be visiting and why. More often than not I would find myself somewhere I never intended to be, doing something I never imagined, and with little to no understanding of what brought me there. The irony, of course, is that if you tell your home people – yes, the ones who, for one reason or another, opted for the mid-range Audi, a mortgage, and offspring –that you are going ‘travelling’, they assume this means something very particular, and conjure a specific image, which looks something like the Theyfollowing.imagine
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And now we’re redefining terms of the Oxford Dictionary, how very Millennial of me; quick, somebody braid my beard and ink a line of symbolic tattoos in a foreign language down the side of my body so that I can post it on OhInstagram!look,a
seat has become available. Myself and the seat have made a connection. The seat is available. I am available. What else is there to know? I need a seat. And a seat needs someone to sit on it. It’s the perfect match. The only issue being that the seat is not in the aisle, but is the window seat, and the grumpy looking woman sitting in the aisle seat is making a valid argument against my potential occupancy of the available seat by avoiding eye-contact and placing her half eaten pastry on the available seat. She is what is known in the travel world as a Seat-Blockers‘seat-blocker’.:
People who take a specific disliking to those who look like they may be on a spiritual journey of self-advancement whilst travelling foreign countries, and occupy available neighbouring seats with half-eaten baked goods.
And how did I get there?
She is what is known in the travel world as a ‘seat-blocker’.
Maybe this would be an ideal time to regret not being in Tulum. Maybe, by not regretting at this particular moment, I was preparing oneself for later regret. A hindsight moment; a moment that, in regret, I would look at that past moment in a future moment and declare:‘ I should have gone to Tulum.’
Note to self : Why am I not swinging in a shaded hammock suspended three feet off the floor above a glossy beach in Tulum?
However, whilst having these particular thoughts, I, therein, my body, found itself located on a bus in Latvia. More accurately, I was located not on a seat, but on the floor of the bus, as I travelled through Latvia. I was, to be more coherent and to the point, sat in the luggage over-flow compartment of a bus in Latvia, surrounded by other people’s baggage, and my own, travelling on some road I couldn’t see, from some place I couldn’t name, back to the capital, Riga.
Ideas: – dangerous notions of possibility that conjure unexpected occurrences without forewarning.
Because I was never in Tulum!
Alas, it’s not for want of regret. No. Regretting not being in Tulum does not feature exclusively in my thoughts. Regretting not regretting not being in Tulum, does however. (Though being collateral damage in a drug war wasn’t explicitly on my bucket list.)
Maybe the consensus of my geographically discombobulated mind was to be in various places at once by being physically located in one particular destination whilst mentally engaged in another – The Disengaged Traveller. Oh, and now it all seems so stereotypical. ‘Look at me everyone; I’m such a nomad that I’m not even located within my own body.’
Well, with regret, I had to leave a specific location to return to another location I did not wish to return to, regretfully. It was all very regretful indeed. I had ideas, you see.
But as one moved to the exterior of the inner-city, the outskirts so to speak, an overwhelming sense of dismay settled in, and the aforementioned pleasures were replaced by an overbearing sense of fear. I had travelled to many locations, and have since found myself in many situations that may be described as precarious or unsettling. But none of these adequately come close to the overwhelming sense of potential danger I felt upon walking through the suburbs of Riga (a side of the city – which was European City of Culture in 2014 – that is less covered by glossy travel mags.) The locals glowered with the kind of scorn one would reserve for family occasions with estranged relatives, the condemnation showing a sincere lack of appreciation for an
with its polished interior city and rugged outer Inperimeter.fact,theinterior city of Riga was as pleasurable as could be expected, with all of the commodities one desires available for maximum enjoyment; boutique bars with soft lighting and sensual sounds, hipster-styled cafes serving more than one dairy alternative for a latté, a cute cobbled square holding space for buskers to ply their trade for bedazzled tourists who could, after observing the busker with the kind of awe their local shop doorway accordion player back home would never receive, they could merrily attend a TGI Fridays and order something routinely comforting before retiring to a Hilton, or their chic Airbnb apartment.
But I wasn’t aware that Tulum was somewhere I would have liked to have been. Not at the time. How was I to know?
I should have been in Tulum.
But I didn’t know about Tulum. So I shouldn’t have been anywhere other than on the bus ploughing endlessly into Riga, or wherever it ended up – the sea. Everyone from Riga says that when Riga is eventually finished it will fall into the sea; an ominous prospect, but potentially an improvement. The bus could have been its masterpiece, the finishing act, the pièce de résistance, with me and my overencumbered backpack, the orchestrator of its completion, which would in turn also be its demise; an oxymoron, much like Riga itself,
And there the consequences of the situation unfolded. I stayed seated in the none-seat, which was the luggage compartment, for the foreseeable future, seeing my potential future with the available seat slip away with each moment. What could have been? Think of the memories missed out on, those sweet moments glaring out the window in melancholic selfreflection. Think of all the self-confessed genius ideas I could have scrawled in my notepad; I could have been the new Steve Jobs. If only me and the window seat had crossed paths for more than just a mere moment, for more than that brief interlocking of temporary neediness. It could have been something special.
Alas, I stayed put, the sun baking the ineffectively air-conditioned vehicle, which travelled along an immaculately straight road, which I should have been thankful for. (I mean, really, this road was so straight it could be used as a reference point for latitude… or would it be longitude?) Either way, the wheels on the bus were going round and round, alike my digestive system… The Pina Colada song was playing in my head.
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I wished the bus was going in circles. Maybe the ride would have been entertaining.more
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And do you know…I bet you couldn’t experience that in Tulum.
I’mU.K.32a freelance writer and business owner. Instagram @the_jason.lee Biography of the Writer
Jason Russell
Englishman doing his best to navigate a former Soviet society. I had already been spat at by an elderly woman, who poked and prodded at me with a wonky walking stick, scandalised in Russian by a sweary taxi driver with a Freddy Mercury moustache, and had moved around various establishments trying to find something resembling comfort. It is in these moments, as any avid traveller will confirm, we remember not what we saw when we travelled, but how we were treated by others.
Clearly, whoever said that hindsight was a beautiful thing had never truly experienced hindsight. It is as unsettling as the thought that the bus travelling to Riga may have been my final journey in life, before ploughing into the rough grey abyss of the Daugava River, whilst rough looking grey birds bobbed on the top, watching Riga climax into completion, before crumbling into the rough grey void.
And due to my regretful idea of travelling out to the Latvian countryside only to return two days later, I had two weeks of cultural misgivings to navigate and ponder this overwhelming dissatisfaction. Two weeks that, if I had of known about it, would have been better spent in – Circles. I wished the bus was going in circles. Maybe the ride would have been more entertaining. Or if I closed my eyes, I could have been swaying in a hammock above a glossy beach, sipping a Pina Colada in Tulum, with the popping soundtrack of cartels and Los Federales fighting in the background.
The possibility occurred to me that if I were in Tulum, swaying in a hammock above a glossy beach, sipping a Pina Colada, that I may have, in later regretting hindsight, wished that I had been somewhere else. Somewhere like, say, Riga, becoming acquainted with locals on public transport. And in hindsight of that unforeseen hypothetical hindsight, it may be possible that both of these instances I have lived, simultaneously in regretful hindsight.
places or planet - every time you plan to travel. The satisfaction comes from knowing you’re making a real difference to a community or situation, and ideally, staying connected beyond the visit.
G
It’s difficult to know if this behaviour is driven very personally from within or if it’s a form of ‘care-contagion’ that has emerged from the green agenda. Either way the associated industries are catching up, finding lucrative ways to attract custom, while positioning the offering as making it easier and safer to “do your bit”.
Philanthropic Tourism who really benefits and is it here to stay?
You don’t have to be “woke”, a born activist or protagonist but it does mean getting involved, possibly taking yourself out of your comfort zone.
Writer: Rebecca Hawkins
iving one’s time and effort to worthy causes as a holiday choice is not really new. But it looks like there’s more of a shift from random travel opportunities to a more concerted and regular behaviour by those who want a selfrewarding level of satisfaction, even empathy, from their adventures away from home.
What does it actually mean?
It’s the demonstration of unconditional, selfless acts of kindness to projects or people in need while being able to enjoy time somewhere away from home. You don’t have to be “woke”, a born activist or protagonist but it does mean getting involved, possibly taking yourself out of your comfort zone, rolling up those sleeves and maybe getting your hands dirty. In a nutshell: it’s a genuine commitment to helping people,
Let’s be clear, we’re talking philanthropy here - not responsible, ethical or sustainable tourism which are terms that have become so familiar one could argue they’ve lost their impact. According to the Oxford Dictionary philanthropy is the practice of helping the poor and those in need, especially by giving money. The key word here is “practice” and for relevance, it’s the intent to behave like this whatever your travel plans.
The United Nations World Tourism Organisation (UNWTO) states 1.5 billion international tourist arrivals were recorded in 2019. That was the 10th consecutive year of growth and until the COVID19 pandemic was upon us, an increase of 4% was forecast for 2020. It shows the scale of the international travel market at that point in time. But of course, things have changed. How much so remains to be seen over the coming
The 1970s and 80s saw a huge surge in demand for international travel for the average person in the western world and with it came an explosion of travel enterprise. In recent years the climate change agenda has started to impact the collective thinking about tourism, air travel in particular, and how we should all be trying to reduce our carbon footprint. But when international travel came to a virtual stand-still across the globe in March 2020 we realised this reduction might come sooner than expected.
All very good and over 60 of the world’s leading tourism companies are involved. But there seems very little discussion around philanthropy and how collectively, or individually, tourists can make a difference. Yet it is happening. This is why we need to be clear about the difference of these two actions. Responsible, sustainable and ethical practices and laws are now in place in most countries, with more planned. These are sensible strategies to ensure the improvement of anything from rising sea levels to cultural erosion. We could say this is government and organisational influence hard at work to deliver on their Philanthropicpromises.tourism,
“Tourism and the Sustainable Development Goals – Journey to 2030 aims to build knowledge, empower and inspire tourism stakeholders to take necessary action to accelerate
Travel and international adventure are in their DNA and their hunger will not be quashed by world events. It’s a very nervous time for associated businesses too and anyone working in the industry if a “less is more” state of mind becomes the new normal.
however, is an authentic, personal pledge to helping people, places or planet in both practical and caring ways. Maybe it’s the quiet evolution of this “movement” as typical of the meaning of the word. It should be a humble characteristic – not shouty and pride-driven. Perhaps such good deeds warrant bragging rights but the second you see that social media post, you could be forgiven for questioning the real motivation here – a kind of “philanthro-narcissism” – it’s all about them.
is a great deal of public discussion and planning for Agenda 2030 – Sustainable Development and how tourism can fit in with this UNWTOstrategy.states:
The landscape suddenly looks very different
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Maybe it’s the quiet evolution of this “movement” as typical of the meaning of the word.
Thereyears.
the shift towards a more sustainable tourism sector by aligning policies, business operations and investments with the Sustainable Development Goals”.
For many this will not be too much hardship, there are savings to be made after all. But for others this is actually quite devastating.
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Although there is much negativity around travel – especially when considering the topic of climate change, we have to weigh up the value of tourism and hospitality and what they bring to
Many holidaymakers preferred to stay away from destinations where there might be obvious poverty such as children begging in the streets. Whereas now, at least up until pre-pandemic era, tourists have made it their duty to go to poorer areas in order to help those children with books, money and toys. Some might have considered booking their holidays based on ways to help local communities. Even business travellers have found ways to create a positive impact by staying with hotels who are connected to charitable programmes. Business executives know their travel is perhaps less than vital but the habit had been created. For this category of traveller, an ideal outcome would be to find ways to pressurise the industries and organisations to be doing more to improve working conditions, equalities and provide a transparent tax system. Since 2020, the business travel sector is likely to be one of the most affected for the longest time – with few expecting it to ever return to pre pandemic figures. The digital age has truly come in to its own now and business communications and transactions are perfectly married with the screen and keyboard.
Hello, Housekeeping? There appears to be an elephant in my room:
Acceptance - nudge to shove?
If it’s not already happening, there might be an emergence of unscrupulous governments and even charities, who will deliberately exploit the philanthropic tourist movement to solve their environmental or societal problems. This is an “elephant in the room” for many of us and well-meaning charities. We question: why is the ordinary citizen, or in this case tourist, mending the broken/destroyed when governments and industries should be leading
Trust me, I’m a big name
countries, communities and individuals. It’s not just about improving the economy in a location but about bringing people together for work and socialisation. Large city hotels and remote resorts can benefit here. Although we must scrutinise the larger hotel chains, how they have made their profits, their ethical practices and promises to improve environmental efforts. This is where it gets tricky. Many of these organisations have worked hard and invested in good people to bring their corporate and social responsibility strategy to a formal declaration – whether that’s on their own public domains or marketing campaigns. So, you might look at their website or the AGM agenda and think: oh, aren’t they kind, they’re really doing their bit to help the local people during this time of crisis. But they’re smart. Firstly, those big corporation and foundation grants come with conditions attached. Secondly, they’re mostly finding ways to negate any costs of these actions by winning the PR stakes. Therefore, anyone who is serious about giving their custom to a trustworthy corporation should go to the local level and ask the workers how they really operate. It’s good to keep a close eye on the business to see how they perform year on year, giving you a better demonstration of their commitment.
Not so long ago, hotels started asking guests to help the local environment by saving on water and detergent via the request to reduce the changing of towels. This was met with accusations of “greenwashing” and profiteering as it looked like these companies were simply trying to save money. Now this is normal practice and most hotel guests expect to use their towels only a few times, certainly not every day.
Everyone’s a winner baby
» Raising colleague engagement and learning.
» The parents felt less guilty about dumping the children in the club because of all mentioned above.
» And a bonus win - NatGeo created an extra programme to their portfolio.
Hotel companies and tour operators are reacting bespokeprogrammeswithandtravelplanningtoreassurethetouristofsafeandtrustworthyprojects.
» The hotel had a unique facility to promote and won the loyalty and recommendation through the parents’ holiday bookings the following year.
» The children had more fun, learned about the environment and local culture in a richer more meaningful way.
the way and paying the cost? Pressure needs to be applied for governments to a better job of fixing their own problems.
» Kudos and dollars to the hotel. PR opportunities and furthermore, it’s since been copied throughout other hotel chains.
Enter stage, UNESCO - another brilliant body of work that engages tourists and hotel guests with geographic and historical projects that are of high value to the locale and world heritage as a whole. Many hotels are quick to state in their descriptions that they are close to a UNESCO site and encourage visitors to plan a trip to view or help in their vital work. This is an easy one to watch out for.
Easy does it….
Giving up your hard-earned income and annual leave to support initiatives in the places you’re interested in sounds exciting but complicated. However, since the demand has grown it’s become easier for holiday makers, and even business travellers, to connect with projects abroad. Hotel companies and tour operators are reacting with programmes and bespoke travel planning to reassure the tourist of safe and trustworthy projects. And the really good ones keep you connected after your visit. But, do your research well, they are not all virtuous, and they are looking to make profit – they are a business after all.
In 2008 InterContinental Hotels & Resorts was forward thinking by developing a formal meetings programme that encouraged delegates to use some of their meeting or free time to get involved in a local charity or community project. The programme was a win-win-win by:
In another initiative, this chain partnered with National Geographic on their Kids Club offering. Wildlife and environmental topics featured highly in the educational materials and programmes. Being NatGeo you would expect the children to be given lots of information about animals and their habitats but they also visited local schools and children’s charities to demonstrate the value of their tourism and to see first-hand that not every child in the world is so lucky. The win-win-win here:
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» Providing financial and/or practical support to the local project.
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If you’re becoming more aware of the future of tourism and wondering how you could make a positive impact with your travel planning, it might help to get a sense of scale.
Tourists scoring highly on the philanthropy spectrum are those who jump at the chance to help where there has been a national disaster. You might remember the earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand in 2011 and the tsunami in South East Asia 2004. Post-crisis workers (not emergency, first to the scene) who used their annual leave and money to help rebuild the areas were showing their care and commitment to those in need. Their reward? Knowing they have helped crisis maybe
On one end of the spectrum, we have the ‘ totally ignorant ’. Those who know nothing about how a destination is run, what its problems are – just so long as the sea is clear, the sun is shining and you don’t get “nickel ‘n dimed” at every turn!
At the far end are the ‘philanthropists ’ - travel and adventure are totally focused around helping a community or environmental project. Precious annual leave is not to be spent coated in SPF30, reading self-help books and drinking one’s body weight in sangria. No, it’s dedicated to helping others - humans, animals or ancient ruins improve their existence. Of course, the SPF30 might still be essential! What’s more, they will be keeping a watchful eye on the progress of their chosen projects. Finding ways to keep the connection going.
About halfway along are the “conscientious travellers ”. They are fully aware, dabble a bit here and there but feel a little guilty they should be doing more. Next year maybe, eh?
At an individual level, there is much you can offer just by finding out about the place beforehand. Take Sri Lanka for example, many people choose this as a destination because it’s easy to help the local people. They don’t have a water shortage – the rainfall is remarkable but they do have a problem with clean water. You can take a large supply of water purification tables and hand them out to communities. Other goodies such as toys, books and writing supplies are welcomed because they are unavailable or unaffordable for lots of children.
On a general best practice rule, buy souvenirs when you can see they are authentic, made by locals (perhaps you’ve seen them in production), tip generously, head out of the hotels and resorts and spend your money with small businesses that are not connected to large organisations. Ok, so maybe some pocket money will find its way back to a hotel worker but the chances are that hotel worker is not in management and therefore not so well paid. Maybe they deserve it? It’s your choice how you judge and handle these transactions. Taxi drivers and tour operators are often happy to give you the inside tips on who the good guys are.
Heading further in that direction are the “ fully dedicated ”. They are committed to planning their travel with as much care as possible –every time. From the choice of destination – how reliant upon tourism is this place? Transport - is there anything to cut back on? Once there, what are the projects to support and donate money to? The accommodation must also meet the highest of CSR standards.
No, it’s dedicated to helping othershumans, animals or ancient ruins improve their existence.
Dare to test your giving habits?
3. Who gets to benefit the most from my efforts - people, places, planet or is a business profiteering here? Unless you’re certain that a dedicated tour operator for this kind of travel is genuinely promoting real causes and not massively profiteering, it’s probably best to avoid them. Research is critical here, the last thing you want is to find yourself supporting an environmental project in place where human rights are non-existent.
even saved a life or two. And the bonus? To join up with like-minded people. The fact that there is some sense of reward shows they are not in the altruists’ camp – that would be a little weird!
So, on this spectrum, where do you sit? And who is to judge anyway? This is more about the overall behaviour, again the practice of giving. Seeing a child smile for the gift of something we take for granted is certainly heart-warming, but we need to be doing this as often as possible and spreading the word to others too.
Step by step:
» Advice from reliable sources is: start small, test the waters and see what works for you. When you are ready to book again, consider what went well and what could be done
2. What are the issues closest to my heart - the projects that will keep me connected for years to come?
last thing you can do, talk about it –get debating with friends and those within your network. You might be able to join forces and combine your efforts with friendly associates. Imagine exploring and helping projects in places you might never have considered before.
Are we nearly there yet?
6. How much time/effort/money can I afford to give?
the last thing you want is to find yourself supporting an environmental project in a place where the human rights is non-existent
1. Where do I want to go?
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7. Do I know anyone who has done this already, perhaps join forces with them?
Before you launch yourself into the first opportunity of a helper’s holiday, first of all, ask yourself a few questions:
» The devil is in the detail, it will mean spending some time researching in order to get savvy. You will find it easier and more reassuring when choosing lodgings, transport or tour operators that their pledges and dedications to responsible tourism are genuine.
5. Am I negatively impacting the global environment by my choice of transport or accommodation?
» Make a list of what you can offer, your skills and resources. Basic actions like goods to local people, getting involved or simply donating cash but if you can, try to establish where and how any cash or goods stay where you intend them and are not feeding an illegal network. And remember you’re boosting the local hospitality business just by being there which, at certain times, might be the best can hope for. Remember, they need you.
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4. Am I negatively impacting the place with my tourism? And how would I know?
Biography of the Writer
You don’t have stick with your spot on the spectrum, knowing you’re making a difference might just be all you manage – rather than going altruistic and failing dismally. Care and curiosity can go hand in hand to bring about a genuine philanthropic mindset. Remember you’re not being judged - only you know it’s a real commitment to helping people, places or planet whenever you plan to travel. Providing you make a habit of doing your due diligence you should be satisfied that you have done your best.
where unique and crafty approaches were essential for grabbing attention to the cause.
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-Rebecca Hawkins
Married with two grown up daughters, Rebecca enjoys her countryside life in rural Hampshire along with the fiesta/ siesta lifestyle of Spain where she has a villa in Denia. At either residence, the daily essentials are walking, yoga, reading, soul music and keeping Spain’s Rioja business flowing.
At a macro or micro level, if everyone adopts this approach there would be huge improvements all over the world. Touring near or far, there’s a way for everyone to help make our planet a better place, one we can all enjoy for many years to come. and-sustainable-development-goals-journey-2030-highlightshttps://www.unwto.org/archive/global/publication/tourism-https://www.unwto.org/world-committee-tourism-ethicsLinks:
It’s ok to suit yourself!
Rebecca Hawkins likes to consider herself a “curator of fine words” and as a freelance copywriter she has plenty of practice. Although a successful lyricist and blockbuster writer in her dreams, a variety of writing assignments such as website content, packaging copy and brand collateral, keeps her busy by day. Rebecca’s previous roles were within marketing and brand management with some of the biggest brands in hospitality such as IHG and InterContinental Hotels & Resorts. An international honorary member of the esteemed hotel concierge organisation, Les Clefs d’Or, Rebecca continues to support the association through strategic development and education. Rebecca’s commercial writing skills emerged during her time at a B2B PR agency and then applying for hospice funding through charitable trusts and corporations
Daily writing goals: a creative adventure to relish and an outcome to celebrate. Cheers!
Book Review
There are no verbal punches to the solar plexus (hippocampi?), no Naipaulesque, unapologetic rage (Oxford couldn’t tame his Indo-Trinidadian fire)... just coolly detached and emotionally restrained anecdotes.I suppose the vapid praise on the cover from Tatler (“Definitely the book
One of the perennial questions about the quintessence of ‘Global Souls’ is their “dis/
Writer: Pico Iyer Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Year of Publication: 2000
The Global Soul: Jet Lag, Shopping Malls and the Search for Home
O
to take on holiday along with your essential oils and Gingko Biloba memory pills”) should have forewarned me that this wasn’t going to be a classic like Theroux’s ‘The Happy Isles of Oceania’ (the book that got me interested in travel-related writing) or the probative, noholds-barred ‘Dark Star Safari’.
Why did I choose to review ‘The Global Soul’, a book that was written over two decades ago? Well, we at Global Voyagers take our literary pretentions (!) seriously! I wanted to have a sort of a ‘literary retrospective’ of Iyer’s book and, more importantly, to see if his views (especially those on race and migration) are still relevant today or, indeed, if they’ve evolved with the times. In other words, how relevant is the book in a world where anarchy and apathy fight for the attention of people plugged more in to moronic and violent streaming content, games and reality shows than to each other? I was also curious to find out if the book was actually any good.
pening a book with an account of a rampaging forest fire (that swallowed up Iyer’s home) is like setting up Welcome to the Jungle as the first track on possibly the greatest rock album of all time (in my opinion). You better follow it up with equally primal and incendiary (!) material or you’re going to disappoint fans. But, ‘The Global Soul’ is no Appetite for Destruction and Pico Iyer is no Axl Rose (or Slash/Duff/Izzy/Steven Adler). The book is a series of polite observations (Iyer is, after all ex-Eton and Oxford) about finding one’s identity (yawn), displacement, various cities (LA, Hong Kong, Toronto, Atlanta and Nara) and their native and non-native inhabitants, globalisation, etc., Cynics would say it’s basically a collection of essays that wouldn’t be out of place in The Guardian!
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On the rare occasion that he does attempt to contact them, it’s to seek help as his house burns and it turns out they aren’t home so he gets chatting to their Mexican help.
I could go on about how taking the ‘P’ out of PICO and re-arranging the letters gives you the acronym OCI (Overseas Citizen of India) but I think you get the idea.
What, then, is a ‘Global Soul’? In the late 90s, it was someone who travelled a lot and had to adapt (conform?) to his/her environment. The quintessence of a late 90s ‘Global Soul’ is their adaptability (Iyer calls it “slippery proteanism”), their swiftness in toning down their ethnic characteristics as and when needed. In Iyer’s case, making oneself less Indian and more English/American depending on where he was. He probably sensed early on (At Eton? At Oxford?) that while Brits enjoy exotic curries, that enthusiasm doesn’t necessarily stretch (BREXIT is the pudding overflowing
successor to India’s first and most sophisticated Prime Minister (Jawaharlal Nehru) and a precursor to Persis Khambatta, Satya Nadella, Sunder Pichai, Indira Noori, Gita Gopinath, Raghuram Rajan, Fareed Zakaria, Shahsi Tharoor, Meera Nair, Gurinder Chadda, Deepa Mehta and, lately, Priyanka Chopra. Apologies to all the other mention-worthy PsIO that didn’t get a Anothermention.irony,
poignant this time, is that if you take the ‘I’ out of ‘PICO’ you get ‘PCO’, which stands for ‘Public Call Office’. Anyone who grew up in pre-liberalisation, pre-mobile ‘phone, pre e-mail India will know that the PCO boxes (there were millions all over India) is where you went to make long-distance calls. For millions of Indians (especially those without landlines), many who had to save up to make these calls, this was the only way to stay connected to their families. Snatching a few minutes to hear each other’s voices was the highlight of the day/week for them, the euphoria of imminent connection far outweighing the inevitable tendency to talk over each other, the crackling lines and the looming disconnection.
connectedness” to places and people and Iyer gives off a sense of total disconnection from his own town ; he describes the forest fire in detail but not once does he mention where he lives, just that he’s 100 miles from LA. Turns out that he lived in Santa Barbara (I had to look it up on the Web). And, Iyer rarely has any contact with his neighbours. On the rare occasion that he does attempt to contact them, it’s to seek help as his house burns and it turns out they aren’t home so he gets chatting to their Mexican help. It’s ironic that a person who is neither particularly connected to his home town or his roots (Iyer is of Indian origin but doesn’t speak any Indian languages) decides to travel the world to explore, amongst other things, what connects people.
Iyer, no doubt shaped by his academically gifted parents is one of the original post-Independence, high-flying, articulate and liberal PsIO (Person of Indian Origin). It’s a strange quirk of fate that his name is just one letter away from the acronym that defines the Indian Diaspora, with its varying degrees of connections to India; a contemporary of fellow PIO Salman Rushdie, a
migrating out of Africa. It’s not a new concept. It’s just that the phrase (like the acronym ‘B.R.I.C.S.’, coined by Jim O’Neill) started gaining followers once Iyer decided to use it.
Two decades later, it turns out that we don’t even need to travel at all to qualify as ‘Global Souls’: we just order exotic meals online, drink organic foreign wines, attract our partners through apps created in the US, coif our pudenda in foreign styles (Brazilian?) and miscegenate (much to the disgust of those who want to preserve the Anglo Saxon bloodlines) to produce our “Mocha-choca-lata” ‘baybays’ (called ‘Luca’). Oh, and binge-stream Korean series! We don’t even need to tone down our personalities! For introverts and agarophobes, the outbreak meant they could just work from home and nurse their neuroses while they limit their contact with the outside world.
with proof) to extending a welcome to those born in sunnier climates and of a swarthier hue. Brits prefer their “Darkies” (Yes, I did just use the ‘D word’. I’m Indian so I can appropriate it and own it as Afro-Caribbeans have the ‘N word’) to be clones of Rishi Sunak. If not, at the very least, they shouldn’t be too dark, shouldn’t speak with a thick accent (a posh South Bombay or South Delhi accent, such as Virat Kohli’s, is perfectly acceptable as a substitute), must NOT be better than England at cricket (good luck with that!), must prop up the NHS (where would it be without the immigrants?) and must be good at sorting out IT issues! The colonial hangover, it seems, is still lurking in the shadows...or should that be in the Home Counties? Indeed, in the penultimate chapter (‘The Empire’) Iyer comes across some very confused immigrants and Brits. The depiction of a colour-conscious Blairite England, on the eve of a sustained assault by fundamental Islam, is comical (in a farcical English way) notwithstanding the tragedies that this will lead to in later years. But more about this later.
Given how much time Iyer spends in airports and in the air (he claims to have over a million frequent –flyer points on one US airline), he should have titled his book ‘Global Souls: Airports, Jet lag, Shopping Malls and the Search for Home’. Airports, for me at least, have mostly been places where banality meets (deadly) incompetence, delay and watching precious moments of life slip away (anyone who has ever been stuck in queues at the ‘First World’ airports such as JFK, Heathrow and Vancouver, for example, will know what I’m talking about). But, of late, airports have become Petri-dishes in which different variants of Chinese-origin viruses can mingle with each other and with the waiting passengers (anyone who has recently been stuck in queues at airports recently, with zero provisions for social distancing, will know what I’m talking about although, as I haven’t travelled anywhere in two years, I thankfully have no idea what it’s like to be stuck in a heaving mass of people and mutations! I guess in this case ignorance really is bliss...and a dodged bullet.).
If travelling, whether by choice or by force, and subsequently adapting is what defines a ‘Global Soul’, we’ve been ‘Global Souls’ for hundreds of thousands of years, since our ancestors began
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In LA, they appear at the airport, not just in Hollywood, the San Fernando Valley (more relevant for the adult film industry) or Beverley Hills.
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/93/Queue_for_HSR_tickets_at_HK_West_Kowloon_Station_%2820180910084616%29.jpg
What would a chapter on LA be without the obligatory cast of quirky characters? In LA, they appear at the airport, not just in Hollywood, the San Fernando Valley (more relevant for the adult film industry) or Beverley Hills. Is it any wonder that the Zuckers set Airplane! partly at LAX? Substitute the Soldiers of the Cross of Christ Church from Iyer’s observations with the Hare Krishnas from the film and you’ve got yourself a scene right out of the movie!
Weirdness, too, seems the norm at LAX: Iyer comes across a group of Chinese nationals attempting to smuggle in the parts of dead, exotic animals.Screw around long enough with the remains of dead animals and soon enough you’ll create an unprecedented virus that sweeps across the world, killing millions. It’s a surprise that such a virus was never spawned at LAX or any other major airport.
Airports begin to appear Iess mundane, and more like kill zones, when you factor in (apart from the release of a deadly virus) the possibility of terrorist attacks. Interestingly, LAX experienced a terrorist attack in July 2002. Curiously, Iyer doesn’t reflect on the sinister and malign elements that airports attract although he does nod to Neil LaBute’s In The Company of Men by suggesting that middle management Americans (American psychos?) are occasionally prone to hatching dastardly plots in airports:
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For Iyer, airports, particularly LAX (there’s an entire chapter on LAX: “eight satellites in search of a sun”) are where those wanting to connect (literally and figuratively) mingle with those who want to disconnect, and Iyer decides to spend days wandering and exploring the various terminals of LAX. Personally, you only need to spend an hour (make that double if you come from the Third World) or so at LAX to know all you need to about the city and the United States.
Iyer’s chapter on airports might be immersive but it remains incomplete and, dare I say, halfarsed (half-assed, if you’re American). There’s very little in the way of conversations with inbound/outbound passengers (how does it feel being grilled by Immigration and Customs? What brings you to the US, especially if you’re seeking asylum? Have you left any family behind?) and very little in the way of exploring the various emotions that course through airports.For me, airports are ‘’Janussary’’:places that release sadness (I will always associate
Indeed, the September 11th jihadis waltzed through airport security, highlighting the ineptitude of those at airports supposedly trained to protect us. Airports have been the targets of and metaphorical air bridges for nefarious acts for decades yet these seem to have been overlooked by Iyer.
Iyer stayed in various airport hotels- Marriott, Sheraton, Hyatt and Holiday Inn- around LAX during his research but he doesn’t describe them or their inhabitants (staff and guests). What a wasted opportunity. Airport hotels are yet another transit point for the transient, for those on a temporary hiatus between connections/disconnections. I personally find airport hotels a strange, Beckettian (only you’re waiting for your connecting flight rather than a person) twilight zone: welcoming but only briefly (the staff know you won’t be around for long and their faux chumminess only lasts so long); places where reality is bifurcated, the body and mind not quite in sync; some senses heightened and some dulled. A “Muzak existence” punctuated by flicking from CNN to over-priced pay-per-view porn (who even uses that now, what with the abundance of free porn on the Web?).
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them with saying ‘Bye’ to my parents as I left for yet another term at an English boarding school.) and pIaces that stoke happiness (such as when I’m returning home to my family)...that quickly turns to rage ( I wish British Immigration officers would hurry the fuck up! The last thing we want after a long trip is a fuckwit bureaucrat delaying a homecoming!)!
Hong Kong (Iyer describes it as an “International Settlement”), Iyer finds on arrival, is in the midst of pre-handover anxiety: the Hong Kongers who can afford it are making final preparations to emigrate, the low income Filipino migrants turning their attention towards the medieval, air-conditioned sand kingdoms of the Gulf, and the asylum-seeking Vietnamese boat people (many of who are ethnically Chinese – an irony if ever there was one) wondering if they will have to move yet again.The Brits, yet again, leave turmoil in the wake of their.. exit (‘Hexit’? ‘HKexit’?).
“The nighttime start of a journey in to an amoral zone where we are not ourselves, and so anything is possible”.
Source: Kong_Skyline_Restitch_-_Dec_2007.jpghttps://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/23/Hong_
The impending and inevitable British ejection is palpable in the muggy air but the Brit expats don’t seem particularly bothered. They carry on their hedonistic (and subsidized) lifestyles in the bars and clubs, working class and middle class crossing their uniquely British class boundaries and intermingling, aided by lines of coke no doubt, and losing themselves in faux badinage (“Awight mate!”) while Maggie and Prince Andrew (yes, that one!) “kowtow” before Chinese department store owners.
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on the eve of the handover, they knew they could just fuck “orf” back to Blighty in Club World? Back to flats in Fulham and Putney and jobs in the City.
It’s in Hong Kong that Iyer’s gloves slowly begin to come off and his tone becomes more (gently) mocking: he describes the Foreign Correspondents’ Club as: “decorated in the local style known as “Anglosomething”... this part of Hong Kong belonged to Graham Greene’s Abroad”.
Sadly, there’s no description of flying in to Kai Tak (Hong Kong’s old airport) which has got to be (or was) one of the most exhilarating air travel experiences since commercial aviation began... and testament to the skills of a special breed of pilots who could pull off the landings, especially at night, buffeted by strong breezes blowing in off the South China Sea.
And why wouldn’t the Brits see out the last days of the Empire in “Hongers” nonchalantly when,
Decorated in the local style known as “Anglosomething”... this part of Hong Kong belonged to GrahamAbroadGreene’s
But, stories about Brit expats are boring and Iyer knows that, which is why he dismisses them in a few paragraphs while focusing his attention on the immigrants from South East Asia, actually visiting camps for the Vietnamese and speaking to volunteers at NGOs and it’s a here that his reportage draws more from the anxious Hong Kongers, injecting the book with a sense of empathy and immediacy. The book could have benefitted from Iyer letting his barriers and reserve down more often. For example, there’s no interaction with any of the thousands of Indians who have been living in Hong Kong for decades. Then again, Iyer himself claims to have written off “the Indians with the blitheness of one born in Britain”.
Source: toronto-1426205_1280.jpghttps://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/05/31/04/21/
“Toronto...withcity:a
“All his fiction was set in a particular corner of Toronto,Bombay”.
In Toronto (a popular destination for Hong Kongers fleeing the Communists), Iyer comes across a significantly more integrated and multicultural
Mistry , for one, emotionally never really left Bombay (I can relate to that. I think about Bombay more than l do about any other city), demonstrating an ability to simultaneously exist in two different cities (if that isn’t the sine qua non of a ‘Global Soul’ then what is?):
a great-but-often-overlooked North American city and her citizens deserve more than a chapter. Hopefully, they’ll get the magnum opus they deserve.
Toronto, a often-overlookedgreat-but-NorthAmericancityandhercitizensdeservemorethanachapter.
Toronto radiates inclusivity and diversity (I’ve been there a couple of times and I can vouch for Iyer’s views) and the chapter contains several examples of different communities (for example, Indians and Pakistanis, Pakistanis and Jews) mingling and co-existing. However, the astute Iyer also notices undercurrents of exclusivity and resistance to diversity from the
“for“Anglos”:many
of its “visible minorities” the city is too much a part of the CommonweaIth- too close to Britain and Australia and South Africa- in the worst ways:so attached to its own white past that it refuses to make room for more colourful ones, or, under a semblance of tolerance, encourages only their exotic elements”
Iyer’s time spent covering various Olympic Games (he’s covered the games in Barcelona, Seoul and Nagano) give him a ringside view (excuse the lazy metaphor) of how exactly the games are run and who for. It’s no secret that the games are run for the advertisers and sponsors, the athletes merely soon-to-be forgotten pawns (do you remember who won gold, silver and bronze in ANY events at the aforementioned games?). I’ve found the Olympics boring for as long as I can remember; a two week excuse for neophytes and “Monday morning quarterbacks” to jump on a nationalism bandwagon. The Games are also a chance for countries to temporarily embrace the ethnic minorities representing them (“In 1996, the entire Canadian 4 x 100 relay team came from the West Indies and was competing... against other teams from Britain, France...full of West Indians”). It would have
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It would be fascinating to see how Toronto has progressed since the late 90s. The feeling I get is that the ethnic minorities, for example writers such as Booker -winner Michael Ondaatje(Colombo born) and double Commonwealth Writers’ Prize- winner Rohinton Mistry (Bombay born), harness Toronto’s embrace to fuel their creativity. For most immigrants in Toronto, I suspect the Empire and Commonwealth are now irrelevant and Third World passion, talent and intellectual superiority will always triumph over first world ignorance, bigotry, and sloth masquerading as nostalgia.
less sharply defined sense of self, had embarked upon a multicultural experiment...Accepting newcomers from developing countries as readily, it claimed, as from Europe and spending hundreds of millions of dollars to encourage them to sustain their different heritages”
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/6/6e/The_SOS_Band.jpg
been interesting to know how British or French these West Indian-origin athletes felt and what they thought of the ersatz integration.
of the Olympic Games: “for the city that had waited six years for its global coming-out the debut was a catastrophe”) might be credible, the most important one is, well, impotent.Oh, and Atlanta is where the legendary R&B/soul group The SOS Band formed back in the late 70s. Indeed, Atlanta, perhaps inspired by its legacy of human rights and emancipation struggles, has had a parallel existence nurturingAfricanAmerican bands and singers (Atlanta BandsEvery Band n Atlanta (atlantamusicguide.com) for decades.
Similarly Iyer, rather unoriginally (and lazily) jumping on Rem Koolhas’s view, reiterates that Atlanta has no soul. How the fuck could you say that about the birthplace of the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr? Not only does Atlanta have soul but it also has spiritual, entrepreneurial (“there are more foreign companies headquartered in Atlanta than in any other American city”) and moral muscle, as well as an over-arching place in African-American history (which Iyer acknowledges). While some of Iyer’s observations about Atlanta (such as the shambolic unfurling
Atlanta was the last city to hold the Olympics in the 20th century so it was inevitable that Iyer would drop in. He portrays Atlanta as an exponentially growing city but without global recognition. This isn’t the case now and I’m not sure it was the case in 1996. Atlanta is home to American and global giants such as CNN, Coca Cola, Delta Airlines, Intercontinental Hotels, and UPS so it’s unlikely that Atlanta didn’t have a prominent place in the global consciousness.
Source:https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/06/Midtown_HDR_Atlanta.jpgSource:
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Source:https://live.staticflickr.com/6061/6120150859_896b029154_b.jpg
Iyer returns to his erstwhile home to find a polyphonous, cacophonous country confused about its choices when it comes to integration. While some (idealistic? delusional?) immigrants, choose to integrate completely (‘’I look at him in his New and Longwood sweater, with the Coutts checkbook”), they’re not, however, allowed to cross certain invisible lines. Right-wingers want to keep the immigrants at arm’s length, in fear of them appropriating their mannerisms while left-wingers want to exoticise the immigrants: of a failed romance between a (faux?) lefty Englishwoman and an Indian he says “she would say that he was a hypnotist, another dark sorcerer from the East come to ensnare this young Englishwoman out of Foster” (It seems that a lazy cliché or limp allusion is never far
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While some “Bubbas” can’t bear the thought of stepping out of Confederate Atlanta, for many, Atlanta on the eve of the Olympics was a city turbo-charged by her history and legacy, forging ahead in to the 21st century, taking Georgia and the rest of the South with her, as if trying to make up for the centuries of denied opportunities and mass oppression.
I don’t have an issue with an author’s opinion as long as it’s well researched and justifiable. There’s just no place, however, for intellectual laziness and a lack of curiosity (Iyer doesn’t mention if he visited The Martin Luther King Jr National Historical Park during his stay in Atlanta), especially from a journalist who’s worked for Time. Iyer’s (regurgitated) claims about Atlanta’s lack of soul make one wonder about the quality and precision of his editor at Bloomsbury and, indeed, other aspects of the book, which is a shame because Iyer shows an adeptness at drawing out Atlanta’s complexes: for example, at the time of Iyer’s visit, Atlanta had the third largest gay population in the US, after New York and San Francisco, a fact the city’s PR machine chose not to flaunt. Iyer is also quick to home in on some anachronistic absurdities: the Ritz Carlton, with its rules bordering on the repressive, continued to stick out as a not particularly subtle throwback to the Atlanta synonymous with violent bigotry. It comes across as possibly one of the least appealing hotels to patronise if you’re not white. The only black member of staff Iyer came across was the hotel’s bell-boy .
As pithy as Iyer’s observations are about colonialism, Iyer merely spars lightly with the legacy of colonialism. He is candid about his apathy, or, as he phrases it, “floating dispassion”. Iyer lacks the fire or inclination to hold the Empire accountable for various measures implemented (such as the introduction of concentration camps in South Africa during the Boer War and the inept handling of the agrarian crisis in 1942 that caused the Bengal Famine) that led to genocide. And, he lacks the sense of indignation to upbraid the British Establishment for hushing up colonial atrocities. A sense of lightness and unfulfilled potential hangs over the book and it becomes more pronounced when glaringly obvious questions are avoided.
Iyer’s placid writing camouflages a restless soul (you’d have to be restless to shuttle between Japan, the U.S. and England) and, ironically, he’s most at home in a country that keeps him segregated while simultaneously allowing him to make a home for himself:
“...it followed the pattern of almost every English account of India, as a story of a young Englishwoman haunted by some “Englishedup” Indians who keep her in a constant state of sexual agitation”
Source: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/11/V.M._Doroshevich-East_and_War-British_India._Corpses_of_Famine_Victims_enhaced.jpg
from the British mind!)All the while, the British press criticizes immigrants for not wanting to adopt the British way of life. Is it any wonder that some communities no longer want to integrate and, worse, radicalise?
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And, nor is he in awe of the liberal intelligentsia’s perception of India (to me, it’s indistinct from the right-wing intelligentsia’s perception of India). Of Stoppard’s Indian Ink, Iyer says:
Iyer might pass for a ’brown sahib’ but he isn’t in awe of the pomp and circumstance associated with “Whatcolonialism:colonialism had given me was the chance to grow up so close to the heart of Empire that I could never be enthralled by it.”
-DevSource:https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2017/05/20/10/27/kinkaku-ji-2328557_1280.jpgBhojwani
“Japan would never really want me to come closer than I am right now...it offers me politeness and punctuality ...and requests in exchange that I accept my fixed role... I find a comfort in the culture’s lack of ambiguity”
“Speaking across a language gap means speaking less to win than to communicate”
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There’s a natural (no pun intended) symmetry to the book: displaced by a Californian forest fire at the beginning, Iyer finally seems to have found
a stillness (“There was no sound anywhere, nothing but dark trees... stone Buddhas fringed with snow”) in the frozen Japanese hinterland of Mount Hiei, half- way between his other homes, California and England. Seasons and time zones have changed across the six chapters but you don’t notice until the end, such is the ability of Iyer to ghost in and out of places. I wonder, in hindsight, if Iyer didn’t ask the questions he should have because he wanted us to... if Iyer’s musings were the seemingly innocuous sparks that fire us up to challenge preconceptions and deceptions.
Of course, it helps that Iyer’s heart belongs to a Japanese lady, one who he communicates with more by instinct than by language:
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