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A Walk on the Wild Side: Chitwan National Park Nepal

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 10:30:00 +1300

Backtracking along the Pokhara Kathmandu road is the only sensible way to head down to the Chitwan National Park save taking a plane and even that is problematic. Getting aboard a half decent bus is the first priority, most guesthouses will sort that out for you and take the strain out of the chaos at the bus park. Aside from Greenline there are no “luxury” buses heading this way so nearly everyone is in the same boat, or rather bus. I recommend a seat by the window in the middle of the bus, the front can get busy and in the back you will feel every pothole… and there are many!

The road climbs slowly out of Pokhara and begins its journey eastward to the mountains, the plains disappear and the gorges commence. Rapids run to one side of the road with adventurous white water rafters braving the rocks whilst stoic bus passengers cling, white knuckled, to their armrests enjoying the magnificent views; mentally drafting their last will and testaments. Truck drivers high on meth amphetamines with cargos of aviation fuel hurtle past, small children dodge about in the road and livestock roam rampant, oblivious to it all. Pray for dry weather, solid tyres and good karma. Assuming all is well and that you have been extremely nice to your chosen deity you will have swapped the mayhem of the highway for the law of the jungle…remind me why we are doing this!

A Mexican - sorry - Nepali standoff

Chitwan National Park is a must see tourist destination in Nepal and many travellers choose it as post trek relaxation. Agents in Kathmandu and Pokhara, as well as your guesthouse, will try to sell you 3-4 day packages to the park that include most fees, transportation, all accommodation and board. This will mean a regimented itinerary with little scope to chop and change your tours. However, you can just sit back and let someone else worry about the schedule. It is also very easy to head there under your own steam, find somewhere to stay and book any particular tours that may take your fancy. This gives you added freedom at roughly the same costs depending upon your bargaining skills.

One thing I would say is that if you have been trekking Nepal in a group and enjoy that camaraderie perhaps a package is better suited. Solo travellers or independents tend to be placed on tables aside from the groups and although not treated any poorer there is definitely a division. Having said that, I enjoyed the company of several like-minded travellers who preferred to do their own thing or hook up for tours where that was agreeable.

KC's Restaurant's obligatory sunset spot

Most tourists head for Sauraha where the vast majority of the tours are based; there are other places to stay outside of the park for those who prefer to be away from that particular herd. Being a simple soul I plumbed for Sauraha and booked a room in advance getting my pickup from the bus park in a dusty field just outside of town. In Nepal I generally used review sites to judge accommodation and simply sent them an email, this worked out very well and saved many hours of plodding around with a backpack in search of digs.

I stayed at the Hotel Parkside and although not the cheapest it was clean and very friendly. My main reason for booking there was the high number of recommendations that one of their guides, Gopal, had accrued. I felt that a good guide was imperative for a short stay and not being with a group would offer me a personalised service.
After the long drive down I felt I owed it to myself to have a nice cold happy hour sunset beer and a curry so headed out to KC’s restaurant on the riverside overlooking the park. Deckchairs were laid out in the lush gardens and the place began to fill up as the sun slowly descended. The drinks and food prices were about the same as a regular café in Pokhara and the meal was excellent. I went home to my hotel contented and slept soundly.

Two tonnes of rhino

The next morning I imagined the hotel was on fire with all the banging on my door, it was my guide Gopal insisting that I get dressed and come immediately. My first wild rhino was waiting for me! The main group tours had already headed off for a jungle walk so it was just us two as we trekked about thirty minutes through the undergrowth to a clearing which the river split in two.
“Okay” Gopal said, “If I say look! Or run! It means that we are in danger and need to get away”
“What do we do exactly” I asked, looking around for a rifle or preferably a machine gun.
“Well the best thing is to climb a tree” Gopal advised.
I looked around for any likely climbable trees for a chap of my disposition and had decided that if all else fails I would trip up my guide and use him as bait! I needn’t have worried, the magnificent two ton rhino was happily content bathing in the water and ignoring us completely. It was spectacular to see that size of an animal in the wild less than a few metres away. We had about twenty minutes like that on our own before other guides turned up with elephants toting camera wielding passengers. I decided that it was better to move on as the disturbance had changed the scene and I wanted to remember it my way.

Elephant bathtime

There are possibilities to see wild deer and rhinos (hardly ever any tigers) on most tours depending upon the season; the grass can get very tall and makes spotting wildlife harder. One activity that is fun and presents less of a danger, although three and a half tons of playful elephant can hardly be described as risk free, is elephant bath time. I know that this sounds corny and exploitative but the mahouts do bathe the elephants and why not take part if the opportunity arises?

Most packages include a trip to see the elephants being washed but if you have a chance, as I did, find a private elephant for a few Rupees tip to the mahout and you can have a real splash about. It’s slightly insane to sit on an elephant getting drenched as the mahout shouts a few commands and its trunk explodes water in a huge blast all over you. A couple of taps from the stick and the next thing you know the elephant has hurled you off and continues to spray you as you lie in the water. Just who is washing whom? I paid my tip to the elephant and it was duly snaked in his trunk up to the mahout as they headed once more into the park.

Scary but fun, educational and relaxing, Chitwan is well worth the effort!

Don’t Get Left Behind: Things to know about airport departures from Manila, Philippines

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 07:00:00 +1300

When it’s time to leave a place behind, whether it’s to continue on to your next travel destination or to head back home, it can sometimes be a hassle. Your flight either leaves way too early in the morning after spending the night soaking up the last of everything that place has to offer or your suitcase can barely fit all the stuff you claim it once did. If you are like me, always running late, you have your counterpart screaming for you to hurry up because the train is leaving.

However, after being stuck in wall to wall traffic trying to get out of Manila, Philippines with my taxi driver showing no sense of urgency, I figured this would be the first time in all of my travels I would miss my flight out of Asia.

Leaving myself four hours for an international departure out of the Nino Aquino International Airport in Manila was what I considered to be ample time, but was immediately proven wrong. This airport is pure craziness and as anxiety built up inside me the entire time, I am here to share my experience and a few tips to make the next trek to and from the Philippines a bit easier.

Getting to the Airport

I threw my bags in the trunk and hopped in the backseat of the taxi waiting outside my apartment building in Makati. Allowing myself what I thought was enough time to get through the congestion of the city (I would label this city the traffic capital of the world), after an hour or so, we were finally smooth sailing a total of ten minutes before hitting another wall of traffic inside Manila. I sat at the edge of my seat, trying to peer through the traffic jam but saw no relief. My driver, not worried in the least, sat back and continued to talk to me about his three children and beautiful wife. Barely listening, panic set in after another hour and a half ticketed off the clock and the airport was still not in sight. Finally arriving curbside two and a half hours later, I realized four hours was not enough allotted time now that the majority of it was used just on the ride to the airport. Something to remember; the major cities in the Philippines are heavily congested with so sense of infrastructure no tack on an extra couple hour just to get through the traffic.

A Chaotic Entrance

We pulled up to the curb and I instantly jumped out, bags already in hand. I made my way to the entrance, which was filled with travelers packed like sardines waiting to enter. “What is this all about,” I remember asking my driver. He told me not to worry so I picked, what I thought to be, the shortest line. I noticed a traveler and their bags going through X-Ray surveillance before entering the doors to the airport. As I stood there waiting in line, I figured security check was handled at the door – brilliant – but I learned differently as my experience continued. An airport attendant approached me in line and she asked to see my passport and boarding pass...BOARDING PASS?! That is why I intended to get to the airport early to print my boarding pass because my apartment building was not equipped with a printer. She stared at me with the same face and proceeded to ask for my itinerary. I immediately realized I had left it behind and gave her a blank stare. As I looked around, everyone else seemed to be prepared except me; had I not read the small print on the entrance doors to the airport? The agent instead took out a mile long sheet of paper, found my name, checked it off and told me to move along. This was the one trip without my boarding passes in hand or my handy itinerary by my side, but at least I got through. So from now on, stash a few copies of your trip’s itinerary in different areas of your suitcase or best case scenario; find a cyber café the night before so you are prepared with your boarding pass and itinerary and any other documents needed for your departure.

Pay Your Dues

After checking in at the airline counter, I finally had my boarding pass in hand and walked down the hall to be faced with another counter labeled Departure Tax. Thinking this was some sort of immigration check point, I handed the attendant my passport, boarding pass and declaration paper only to have them pushed back at me and instead asked to pay a tax. Unaware of any fee prior to my airport arrival, I dug through my wallet and bag only to come up with 300 pesos or $10 USD, which didn't cover the departure tax. The attendant just stared at me and suggested I go back to the airline check-in counter for help, but the line was way too long. Now I was literally racing against time. As I turned away from the counter, the letters ATM were in plain site and I dashed to the bank kiosk, took out the necessary money and went back to wait in the Departure Tax Counter line once again. Since credit cards are not used as an alternative to cash in the Philippines, always carry extra cash for times like these. And make sure to check the airport website before hand to learn about any hidden fees you might encounter upon your departure.

Immigration Check

Immediately after, I join a long line of travelers as we all waited to pass through immigration. This line was as bad as, if not worse than, an amusement park line. I stood – relieved I got by the "tax collector” – and waited as more time ticked by. At this point there was nothing I could do except listen to my heart beat uncontrollably and reassure myself I wouldn’t miss my flight. While I might be stating the obvious, every country is different so I encourage everyone to have the proper documents filled out completely and properly well before reaching the attendant for a quick immigration check.

The Real Security Checkpoint

I made it through Immigration, only to be faced with another security checkpoint. I thought this was taken care of before I even entered the doors to the airport, but I guess not. As I took off my tall boots, placed my carry-on in a tray and waited to pass through the metal detector, I was actually happy to know my security was strictly protected in the Philippines. Boots back on and carry-on flung over my shoulder, I raced to my gate. When traveling to another country, I recommend that you pack light; think about shipping anything you don’t need in your possession back home before getting on your flight. Getting through security is easier and running through the airport with a light load makes a huge difference.

For Good Measure, Another Checkpoint

When I arrived at my gate, another security checkpoint stared me in the face. After my carry-on bag was inspected, my body patted down, and my passport checked, I finally made my way to the waiting area. I stood for a second and took a deep breath; I arrived at my gate with 10 minutes to spare. But next time…... Who am I kidding? This is the joy of traveling to unknown places all over the world.

Lunch in Encanacion, Paraguay

Thu, 02 Feb 2012 09:30:00 +1300

"We have a little of everything," the old woman said in rapid Spanish, holding my arm. "There's chicken, there's pork, there's sausages, there's even..." she paused, and I wasn't sure if it was for emphasis or to find the word. "...cow," she finished. Craig and I looked at each other. "Okay," we said.

We were in Encarnación, Paraguay, a small city in a country dwarfed by its larger neighbours Argentina and Brazil. Encarnación itself is in the south of the country, just across the river from Posadas, Argentina and its major attraction are the Unesco World Heritage-listed Jesuit ruins that lie about 30km out of town.

We had arrived the day before, sweating on an unairconditioned bus and planning to stay just two nights in the city, visiting the ruins on the day between them. However, we woke up to thunderstorms and temperatures 20 degrees lower than the day before; we stayed in bed, venturing out at about 1pm in search of lunch.

We found it across the road from our hotel, in a comedor located behind the bus station. We knew it was a comedor because large signs on the outside of the squat brick building proclaimed it to be so; and since "comedor" means "dining room" (and apparently "food court" too), we knew we were onto a good thing.

Smoke-filled, blaring loud music, but tasty food

The building was arranged around an open courtyard, and tiny kitchens occupied the walls. Huge Coca-Cola signs proclaimed the name of the establishment and what number stall they occupied. In the covered way between the kitchen and the courtyard was a forest of plastic tables and chairs, some with tablecloths that fluttered in the breeze. It was uncharacteristically cold for that time of year, but the barbecues fashioned from old metal barrels warmed the air a little. Narrow chimneys attached to the barbecues ferried the smoke above the roof of the covered way when the lid was shut. However, the lids opened towards the diners and were often left open, leaving the smoke to waft among the tables. The upside of this meant visitors could see what was on offer.

The first stall only seemed to be serving greasy chicken; the next, overcooked steak. We wound our way among the tables and turned the corner to look at the restaurants on the far side of the building. An older woman several stalls down saw us coming and gestured to us enthusiastically. Sure, she does that with everyone but it felt personal. "She wants us to eat at her restaurant," I said to Craig. "I'm sure she does," he replied dryly.

The typical bbq - Paraguayan style

After her glowing description of her wares, and more importantly, a glance inside her barbecue, we could hardly resist. We ordered a plate to share and it arrived piled high with quarter of a chicken, a large piece of pork, a sausage, and a tomato and lettuce salad. No sign of the cow, which was probably just as well. We were also given a plate of cassava, more than we could possibly eat between us; and this was just one serving. Our bottle of Coke came accompanied by mugs fashioned from old cans - mine was, appropriately, a Coke can, but Craig's used to hold beer.

The food was delicious but the experience was about more than just the food. The wind whipped coldly around our shoulders, threatening to take our paper napkins with it. Bad Spanish music blared from every stall, crackling on the speakers and clashing with the music from the stall next door. The smell of meat roasting permeated everything, wafting from the barrel barbecues with their odd chimneys. We glanced around to see that all of Doña Eli's tables were taken; we'd obviously chosen correctly. And we knew where to come for lunch tomorrow.

Fes el Bali, Morocco – Is it Worth the Hassle?

Thu, 26 Jan 2012 09:30:00 +1300

This is a very good question, and quite subjective depending upon your tolerance for hassle. Fes is probably the most aggravating city in the whole of Morocco. It seems that some of its residents are hell bent on driving everyone insane with their non-stop entreaties to buy something or be your guide. Hashish mister, Cocaine, Women, Camels…. the list goes on and on.

The dichotomy is that it is also one of the most fascinating; from the ancient tanneries to the Madrasa Bou Inania. Whether that is enough to compensate for the obvious downsides I will leave the reader to judge.
Fes is split into several sprawling areas; the one that most visitors see is the old walled city of Fes el Bali and that is where we will start our journey.

Jumping back a little, my day had begun on the morning train from Marrakech as it wound its way through a wonderful varied landscape before finally pulling into the brand new station in Fes. I have to say that the new stations in Morocco are excellent, with free Wi-Fi and clean restrooms, definitely a step up from the old days!

Amazing architecture at every turn

To get to Fes (el Bali from now on) it is easy to grab a taxi from the forecourt of the station, just don’t grab the first one who approaches you. I suggest walking away a little distance and then trying your luck. If there are two or three of you it’s the same price, so split the fare. It won’t be expensive and the distance is too far, and may be unsafe, to walk.

Aim for the main gate, the Bab Boujloud, around which are a cluster of cheap hotels and hostels, many overpriced, dark and dank but with a couple of gems. Rooms at the popular Hotel Cascade just inside the gate were cheap but frankly grotty to my mind. I found a great little hotel (the Bab Boujloud, just outside the gate) with a single room for 12 Euros including free Wi-Fi, breakfast, private bathroom, TV and AC plus a roof terrace with amazing views over the city. It all depends on your budget of course and your tolerance for wildlife!

Talking about wildlife…Once you leave the sanctuary of your room the vultures descend with obvious glee at the sight of fresh meat; tempting tourist morsels to the slaughter. Calm down, it’s not that bad. If you keep walking and totally ignore them, do not shake hands or engage in any conversation, then they will rapidly lose interest in you and latch on to another sucker. One tactic is to shout at you and complain that you are racist or some such thing. It’s just a ploy to your western guilt so “keep calm and carry on”. Once over that hurdle all that remains is to get lost!

The TV & Radio repair man

In true traveller tradition you have never visited a medina unless you really, really need to ask directions and you are totally lost. That is half the fun and leads to some interesting diversions as well as a chance to take on a conversation with a local that is not solely commercial. In Fes, even armed with a map, expect this to be the case. Do not be put off by just following your nose (the aromas range from the tempting to the poisonous) and having fun. There is an easy route that takes you in a bit of a circle, just follow the Rue Talaa Kebira down and the Zkak Rouah back. That should be simple enough.

A new set of teeth sir?

Passing along the narrow streets of the medina you will run into all sorts of craziness. I came across a dentist shop with a range of false teeth for sale, some looked rather used! Camel heads hung from butchers stalls and artisans toiled in little shops building and repairing all manner of things that were required for daily life. Donkeys and carts barged passed shoppers with cries of Balak! Look out! And you had better, they won’t stop.

At the end of the medina close to the river are the tanneries; impressive, stinking, colourful and ancient. Many leather shops will let you look for free from a terrace above; there you will get a great view of the actual work that goes on there without losing all your faculties to the stench. Mint leaves are provided to crush under your nose to hide the pungency. If you are brave, and stupid, a few dirhams dropped into a caretakers hand will get you closer to the action. Personally, I suggest fireman’s breathing apparatus as visitors have been known to become violently ill in proximity to the fumes. Having said all that, it is a must see part of Fes and a great insight to the leather industry. Take a chance as you wander back up the hill to duck down the small alleys left and right to admire the architecture, fountains and hidden treasures.

The tanneries

Another must see is the Bou Inania madersa. Although access is limited to the courtyard the architecture is splendid and a sense of calm prevails from the mayhem outside.

After a hard day fighting the touts and guides, avoiding carpet sellers and keeping your sense of smell intact you deserve a treat. My suggestion is the Café Clock, a wonderfully restored 250 year old building and courtyard with great food, superb coffee and a roof terrace that overlooks the old medina; definitely worth it, an oasis of calm in Fes el Bali.

So there you have it. It’s neither fragrant nor user friendly, it can be hot, dirty and some of its citizens rude. It can also be charming, quirky, delightful and wondrous. Above all it is a challenge, but one I know you are up to!

5 Tips For Tourists Walking in New Zealand

Wed, 18 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +1300

It was after 8pm when a curly haired American girl straggled into Iris Burn Hut on the Kepler track, a Great Walk, in Fiordland, New Zealand. Ranger Robbie had just finished his nightly information talk to the rest of the trampers in the hut. Everyone else had arrived at this hut by four o’clock in the afternoon.

Weather forecast notice

The girl was relieved but Ranger Robbie wasn’t amused. What you did was very irresponsible, he publicly expressed to the girl.
Due to her desire to camp, and tight schedule to get to the Milford Sound the following day, she was attempting to do the Kepler track in two days when most people take three to four days.

There’s nothing wrong with that ambition (some super fit folk run it in one day), however, she left the Department of Conservation office on the Te Anau lake shore at 10am. Starting the walk at this time meant she didn’t leave Luxmore Hut until two o’clock. Everyone else had left this hut by 10am.

Just past Luxmore hut a ranger had met her on the trail and saw her struggling beneath a pack nearly as large as her. He tried to dissuade her. Along the exposed ridgeline between Luxmore Hut and Iris Burn Hut the weather was quickly deteriorating. This girl would end up walking the last three hours in the dark and rain with her head lamp burning into the night. She could have easily slipped off the trail, sparking a search and rescue event.

Iris Burn hut - Kepler Track, NZ

For the rangers on this track, this will now be just another story to tell – one that at least didn’t turn out badly. Though they would probably still agree more travellers to New Zealand should get out and experience the wild places that make New Zealand so unique.

One of the best ways to do this is to start with one of the so-called Great Walks of New Zealand. These popular, resourced and marketed walking tracks give access to some of the most inspiring scenery the country has to offer. These tracks with comfortable huts, supplied cookers and resident rangers in peak season are both saviour and a lure that leads some into complacency, especially, but not exclusively, inexperienced or unprepared tourists.

Get into the wild in New Zealand – just do so prepared and within your limits.

Five Tips For Tourists Attempting A Day/Overnight/Multi-Day Walk in New Zealand:

1. Prepare to get wet.

It will probably rain, heavily. So if you don’t have a good raincoat and waterproof pack liner don’t start the walk.

2. Use a pack liner, not a pack cover.

Pack covers blow off when the wind gets above approx 80 km/h. In any exposed area you may well experience those gusts. Pack liners will also keep your kit dry, chances are a pack cover won’t.

3. 'Easy' means 'moderate'.

Getting away from it all in New Zealand

Walks rated ‘easy’ in NZ are probably ‘moderate’ in your home country. So don’t bite off more than you can chew, but safely challenge yourself all the same.

4. Start with a challenging day walk.

Start with a longer/harder day walk before you attempt an overnight walk. If you’ve not hiked before it’s best to dip your toe in the water, so to speak, before taking the plunge. You’ll at least get a sense of what a multi-day walk will be like.

5. Tell someone your plans.

Tell someone reliable where and when you are going. And most importantly when you will return. Notify that same person when you do.

Beyond the Iron Curtain II - Culture Vultures

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 10:00:00 +1300

In a previous article I documented our journey and first discovery of Prague just after the Velvet Revolution in 1989. Picture the scene: four backpackers, a few pivo’s and a hearty Czech meal. It was time to work it all off and see the sights!

Coming from a western country with high streets full of the usual chain stores and bright lights it was quite an experience to be transported to a place devoid of designer goods and the trappings of major commerce.

Heading towards the centre of town we strolled along wide boulevards crisscrossed by tram lines, and flanked by tall, quite gracious buildings; somewhat in contrast to the ramshackle area of Zizkov where we were staying. Heading past the main station we entered a small park, the only real greenery around. The stalls set in the park served beers and other stronger drinks to some rougher types occupying most of the benches, but otherwise harmless.

This clock could take an eye out.

We skirted the rest of the park and crossed over towards Wenceslas Square, where only a short while ago the Czech people had demanded and received the changes they desired. Heading further down brought us to the main old town square, a magnificent open area surrounded by churches, monuments, the famous astrological clock and so much more it was hard to take it all in.

This was the Holy Grail, not too many tourists and so much to see, we spent hours just wandering the winding streets and falling in love with the city.

Arriving at the famous Charles Bridge we were in full market mode. Every vendor there seemed to be selling whatever was left of the Red Army before they exited the country. Military hats, army watches, Fur Hats, bayonets, medals, and Kalashnikovs…okay that last one may have been made up! We rummaged around and bargained for some souvenirs to take home. I went for a big grey fur officer’s hat that was warm but on later use found that it smelled like an old squirrel once damp from the snow!

Hawkers apart, the bridge was magnificent; spanning the Vltava and leading enticingly to the Mala Strana on the other side from where Prague castle stood gloriously overlooking the city. Recessed statues and benches every few yards offered glimpses of outstanding artistry and gave strollers fantastic views of the river banks. At night the lights of the town, castle and bridge came together to show just why Prague, then and now, is considered to be one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

Majestic Prague Castle

Did I mention it was cold? The wind seemed to drive straight through our clothes; however some women and many teenage girls didn’t seem to have read the weather forecast and wore very fashionable short skirts oblivious to the elements. We were wrapped up like arctic explorers and could only wonder at the thermal properties of Czech womanhood. About the only time we felt warm was when occupying a seat on a tram, the hot air blowing majestically up the heated seats. We could have spent all day just sitting on a circle line tram nice and toasty, enjoying the view.

One or two oddities distinguished themselves for different reasons: Shops and stores for the most part were pretty bland and the concept of a large supermarket as we have in the west was novel. One we found had a queue outside so we figured that it was just about to reopen but on closer inspection we could see people inside with shopping carts loading up with the usual fare. The line, it turned out, was for the cart itself. No cart no entry. Therefore with only a few carts the store had only a few shoppers at a time, the rest had to wait outside. It was probably one of the most bizarre aspects of the old system that we had come across.

The fairy-tale like Old Town Square

Another gem of a find, close to the stations and on many side streets, were the little old ladies serving out Czech street food at next to nothing, our favourites were bramborak, a type of potato pancake and the occasional fried mystery meat in a kind of batter. A couple of these with a beer and the sightseeing could resume.

We finished off our last night with a splurge dinner heading for a small hotel with a reasonable looking restaurant that we had seen during the day. It was difficult to imagine a more contrasting sight as four scruffy (we did clean up a bit) backpackers walked into the smart dining room and were seated by waiters in dinner jackets and bow ties. In truth the meal was no great shakes but we drank some nice Melnik wine and didn’t cause a fuss. The bill USD, $8.00 for all of us, was split and we headed out into the night for some more entertainment…and, of course, some more of that delicious pivo!

The Best Thing I Ever Ate While Traveling

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 08:30:00 +1300

Once I step foot in a new city, town or continent, besides spreading my wings across the land, I am ready to eat. Eating like a native is my mission. Whether it’s fish and chips in London, oysters in Ireland or gelato in Italy, I will find the time and place to fill up on the real authentic stuff. So here is my take on “The Best Thing I Ever Ate” while traveling.

Kenya

I really had no idea what to expect in the food category when I visited Kenya except that root vegetables were prevalent. With the tropical climate, these starchy crops grow the best. But it wasn’t from one of these vegetables that I ate the best thing I ever ate in Kenya. Instead, it was a combination of flour, water, yeast sugar and milk cooked in oil better known as mandazis. My first bite into the soft, spongy, doughnut-like fried bread got me hooked. What started with an initially sweet bite, ended with chewy goodness. And there was no turning back, as I reached for a second mandazi.

Amsterdam, The Netherlands

The BEST french fries in the world

When deciding what to eat in the Netherlands, you can’t go without avoiding the Viaamse frites, but you wouldn’t want to anyway! Also known as “french fries” they are hand sliced, deep fried and piled high in a paper cone steaming hot and covered with creamy mayonnaise (or for all the Americans out there, ketchup is an option). Hold off a few minutes before biting into the crisp on the outside and soft on the inside Viaamse frites or you just might burn the taste buds right off your tongue. And while the miniature plastic fork you thought was useless when initially served the fries is a must have towards the end to help you fish out the last of the most delicious thing I ate in Amsterdam!

Ireland

As I traveled throughout the whole island, narrowing all the different foods I ate down to a favorite was hard, but I can firmly say that the brown bread, which was served with just about every meal, was ultimately the best thing I ate in Ireland. The grainy consistency around the edges yet somewhat moist middle of the bread smothered in a layer of fresh butter makes this food unforgettable.

Barcelona, Spain

Mmmm... paella

It seems obvious, but the seafood paella served along the boardwalk that lines the coast of Barcelona was definitely the tastiest thing I had ever eaten. Shrimp, clams and mussels on top of the gooey, sticky rice infused in seafood broth totally melted in my mouth and won over my heart. Served with rustic Spanish-style bread, I sopped up ever last grain of rice on my plate. Leave it to the Spanish to come up with the best seafood dish I ever ate.

Italy

Pizza, pasta, bread… there is nothing better to eat in the carbohydrate capital of the world. However, in my case the homemade gelato served in every corner of Italy, owned me and I found myself feigning for a scoop of it every night. The buttery, smooth consistency coated my mouth and filled my stomach with a layer of goodness. From café to tiramisu, the array of flavors gave me an excuse to eat gelato as often as I wanted and therefore is labeled at the best thing I ate in Italy (Florence to be exact).

London, England

There are more coffee bars spotting the city than any other place I have visited so it goes without saying the best thing I ever ate I drank instead. The hot, fair-trade coffee served in trendy atmospheres with fun hip music playing throughout is worth a stop in the morning, in the afternoon or even late into the morning hours. The steam rising from the perfectly dark brown coffee and the delicious taste of the roasted beans made café in London worth the extra pounds.

Lisbon, Portugal

Straight from the oven: Pastel de Belem

While on a short stay in Portugal, I practically used half a day waiting in line for a warm, fresh, out-of-the-oven, traditional Portuguese pastry known as Pastel de Belem. Taking the train to the small city of Belem was where I indulged in the delicious egg tart loaded with cinnamon and sprinkled with powdered sugar. The chewiness from the egg together with a pure sweetness make the Pastel de Belem Portugal’s best kept secret and the best thing I searched out in Lisbon.

Manila, Philippines

In Manila, you can’t get away from the tons of street vendors lining the sidewalks and selling some of the most intriguing food I have ever laid my eyes on. But if it wasn’t for the crowd that rallied around this one vendor, I would have missed out on trying something I instantly fell in love with called taho. When I was next in line, I quickly ordered and watched as the silky tofu was lightly scooped into a plastic cup, next was a layer of caramelized sugar which filled in the paths made by the tofu, and added to the top were baby tapioca balls. The pudding-like consistency together with sweet syrup ended with a sort of chewiness from the tapioca and put a face to sweet tofu. Traditionally a Filipino breakfast or in my case an experiment, taho was the best thing I ate in the Philippines.

Finding new places to eat and indulging in authentic food from each land can be an adventure in itself. So the next time you’re on the road, take advantage of the local food and find yourself the best thing you ever ate!

Iguazu falls - Argentinian or Brazilian side?

Tue, 20 Dec 2011 21:00:00 +1300

The Iguazu Falls (also variously spelled Iguacu, Iguaçu and Iguassu) are one of the world's most impressive waterfalls. Located near the triple border between Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay in South America, they can be seen from two countries: Argentina and Brazil. Most tourists visit both sides, but this sometimes isn't possible due to visa or time restraints.

I've been to both sides twice, and I think both sides offer a different experience of the falls. The entrance fee is similar (around US$23), and both sides have boat trips and other optional extras available.

View from Brazilian side

Last year, we visited the Brazilian side first, which is probably the best option. There's less to do on this side, with just the one path running alongside the river, but the views are spectacular. It's a full panorama of waterfall, with the Devil's Throat section off to the left and smaller falls stretching away to the right.

When you arrive you walk through an interesting information display with facts about the falls; this leads you to a bus stop where you can wait for the bus to take you along the road through the national park to the falls. Last year, that's exactly what we did, catching the bus to the last stop. We then proceeded to get drenched at the bottom of the Devil's Throat then walk back along the riverside path to the first bus stop opposite the pink hotel. This year, we joined a guided tour with Urban Adventures, who are allowed to bring their own vehicles into the park.

Our guide Clarice dropped us at the entrance, where we bought our tickets and walked through the museum section to the park road, where she was waiting for us. She then dropped us at the first stop and let us wander along the path for a few minutes before meeting up with us later on to tell us about the falls and walk with us the rest of the way. Being Brazilian, she was naturally biased towards the Brazilian side, though she agrees that the Argentinean side is worth a visit too.

View from Argentinian side

The experience on the Argentinean side is quite different. I found it a lot more touristy; there was more to do, certainly, but also a lot more people there to do it. On arrival, you take a walk along a forest track until you arrive at Estación Cataratas (Waterfall Station), where you stand in line to wait for a train to take you to the waterfalls. You can also walk if you like - last year we caught the train there but walked back on the path alongside the train track. This year, with Urban Adventures again, we caught the train both ways.

Once you get off the train, you'll see signs for the Devil's Throat Walkway, a wooden boardwalk that takes you over the upper part of the river and opens out into a platform above the Devil's Throat, the most impressive part of the Igauzu Falls. The platform was packed both times we went, but at least it was open ... It closed for repairs for a short period this year after being damaged by flooding, and only reopened again three days before our visit. On the Argentinean side, you're at the top of this section of the falls, out over it in fact. In contrast, the walkway on the Brazilian side takes you over the river at the bottom - an altogether wetter experience!

After walking back along the walkway, we caught the train back to Estación Cataratas, from where you can walk the Upper and Lower Trails. As the names imply, the Upper Trail is higher up and gives you views of some of the smaller falls from above, while the lower trail allows you to get up close and personal with these same falls lower down. This year, we visited the Argentinean side first, and when we went to the Brazilian side I recognised some of these smaller falls, many of which are named after people. It was cool to see from a distance what I'd seen close up the day before.

So which side?

This year we chose to do a boat trip on the Argentinean side, something similar is available on the other side of the river. Our boat trip was followed by a jeep ride through the national park, with a guide telling us about the flora and fauna of the area. Last year, we also headed into the jungle along the Macuco trail, where we saw monkeys and a variety of birds. This year, no monkeys were to be seen on the Argentinean side, though we did spot some in Brazil.

So, Argentina or Brazil? Well, if you want more options for things to do then Argentina. If you want panoramic views, Brazil. If you want to ride a train, Argentina. If you prefer buses, Brazil. If you really can only visit one side, you'll have an awesome experience on either, with various viewpoints and a chance to get up close and personal. But really, if it's at all possible, you should visit both sides of the Iguazu Falls.

A Dangerous Road: Kathmandu to Pokhara

Wed, 14 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +1300

A few months ago, after I had booked my flights to Nepal, I stumbled upon a TV program entitled “the world’s most dangerous roads”. That episode explored a route that included the journey between Kathmandu and the trekking centre and tourist resort of Pokhara 200km to the west.

A couple of (actual) comedians anchored the piece and it looked pretty hairy, one caveat though was that they attempted their adventure in the monsoon season…not a good decision but probably good TV. I was therefore a little anxious about the journey and hoped that it was not going to be up to my epic trip in Laos a few years ago. See my article The Road to Hell.

Options for this route include flying, the previous week a Buddha Air flight crashed on an Everest sightseeing trip killing all on board, or taking a public bus. Private car is also a possibility however you would need a driver and a full complement of passengers to make it worthwhile. I chose the bus.

No room to spare!

This mode of transport also broke down to a “luxury” air-conditioned bus provided by operations such as Greenline or Golden Travels that included both drinks and lunch, or a tourist bus style service at a much cheaper price but cramped and open to the elements. You pay your money and make your choice! As the Greenline bus depot was next to my hostel and they had space I shamelessly paid my $15 USD and anticipated falling off a cliff in luxury.

An early start for the five hour journey was essential as road blocks, landslides and accidents can cause long delays and the route is best travelled in daylight. Knowing that, I was quite happy as we pulled out of Thamel in Kathmandu at 8am on the dot… only to come to a grinding halt ten minutes later in the crush of rush hour.

Kathmandu is set in a sunken plateau and in order to get out one first has to climb, and climb and climb. The bus groaned and squeaked as it dragged itself upwards, stalled and broken down trucks and minibuses dotted the roads causing plenty of tailbacks and creating obvious chicane fun for the speeding drivers. Our driver was mindful of his cargo and took a little bit more care on the bends relying on his mirrors and the road ahead as opposed to the obvious telepathic skills that the other lunatics were using.

These drivers, and their assistants who leaned out the doors waving and gesticulating to other vehicles, are obviously used to the road. They know all the bends and potholes and are well aware of the dangerous areas. That does not stop them sailing over the edge on occasion and disappearing into the chasm below. Reading the Kathmandu Post is akin to getting the form on a demolition derby as crashes and fatalities are gone over in much detail.

We arrived for lunch in a pleasant resort about two hours late and halfway to Pokhara where some passengers changed for another bus south to Chitwan. This afforded us a nice break in the journey to admire the scenery and stretch the legs.

Typical 'tourist' bus

There is a kind of social reasoning and care in the villages and towns of Nepal. I came across road blocks where a donation from the bus driver was requested in order to assist the family of a local man who was killed driving his truck on that same stretch the day before. A few villages exact a tax (seemed to be about 50 Rupees) from each bus as they passed through. At one point riot police were deployed, face masks and shields donned, in a rural setting that seemed most incongruous and caused us yet more of a delay.

The journey was becoming a bit of an endurance test but the Air-Con kept working and we had plenty of breaks for the bathroom where needed. I was starting to think that the extra paid for the ticket was becoming money well spent.

Despite the obvious risk of the road madness the route passes through some spectacular scenery; from towering mountains hosting perched settlements and terraced cultivation to small villages with day to day life going on giving a fascinating insight to the way Nepali live.

Many travellers stop off en route here to do white water rafting, camping on the shores and running the rapids as the rivers heads west. I was here in October and the water seemed just about right, even for beginners, though after snow melt or the monsoon I can imagine that the conditions would become much more demanding!
Around Ghorka we entered “little Switzerland” a local tourist area with foreign built cable cars traversing the river soaring skywards up to the mountain peaks along with a sign that announced the region as an “open defecation free zone”. That caused me some thought.

After crossing the river the road flattened out at last and we ploughed on uneventfully to Pokhara three hours late and in need of a cold beer. The bus park is a little outside the lakeside tourist area however plenty of taxis were on hand to ferry passengers to their hotel. I was fortunate that my hotel had sent a driver so I was spared the negotiations and soon had that ice cold beer in hand sitting on my veranda and toasting the most dangerous road.

How to Travel by Long-Distance Bus in South America

Thu, 08 Dec 2011 10:00:00 +1300

South America is a large continent, and plane travel from country to country can be prohibitively expensive for backpackers. Trains are almost non-existent, and car hire can be a bureaucratic nightmare, so to get around you'll probably be using the long-distance bus system. On the whole, the network is well-developed and buses are comfortable, safe and fairly priced.

1. Choose the right company - ask questions

There will probably be a variety of different companies servicing the route that you want to take, and they usually won't all be equal. Ask around to find out which are the most comfortable and have the best safety record - talk to a local or visit the online forums. Price doesn't usually vary wildly (in Brazil, almost all companies charge the same price for the same route), but if there is a difference, find out why. The cheapest option is probably the cheapest for a reason - go mid-range instead.

Some companies offer an online store to buy tickets, but it's generally a lot easier to buy them from the bus station. Going in to buy tickets also gives you a chance to ask a few questions about the service - how long the journey is, where you'll be dropped off, whether any food or drink is included. If you're travelling for more than six hours, ask how many drivers will be on the bus - most reputable companies have a policy that each bus should have two drivers who swap over every few hours. If there's only going to be one driver, ask how often the rest stops are; driver fatigue is one of the major causes of bus accidents.

2. Choose a seat

Most companies will offer a range of seats for their long-distance service, with the most common being semi-cama, ejecutivo, and cama. Semi-cama is the cheapest, but you still get a fair bit of leg room and the seat reclines significantly more than your average plane seat.

Ejecutivo seats are usually wider and recline a bit more than a semi-cama, while full cama seats lie flat or almost flat. If you're interested in being able to lie completely flat on your journey, make sure to ask if the seat reclines the full 180 degrees or just 160 - it's a completely different experience.

The clerk will show you a plan of the bus and you can choose which seat you want. I like to sit at the front on the upper story of double-decker buses, as you get a good view, more leg room, and no-one's in front of you to recline their seat onto your legs. Choose a seat that's as far away from the toilet as possible, and close to the front without being right next to the door or the stairs.

If you're travelling overnight, you should buy your tickets at least the day before, and a lot more in advance during busy periods. Since you'll probably be arriving by bus, ask in the bus station when you arrive to get an idea of times, prices, and when you need to buy your tickets to leave again, even if you're planning to stay for awhile.

3. Look after your stuff

Large pieces of luggage are stored under the bus and you'll be given a ticket or token so that you can prove ownership when it's time to collect it. We haven't had any problems with theft but many other travellers have noticed that their bags had been riffled through when they picked up their luggage at the end of the journey. The best way to avoid this is to keep your bag with you - try to get down to carry-on size anyway, as it's much easier to get around with less stuff. I use my bag as a footrest when sleeping on long-distance buses - it means I can have my legs higher up, making it a lot easier for me to get to sleep.

Whatever you choose to do, keep valuables with you, preferably on your person. If you use a moneybelt, keep it out of sight at all times, and don't flash around expensive possessions.

4. Get comfortable

If you're travelling overnight, it's important to get some sleep. And if you're anything like me, this might not be the easiest task. If you're prepared, though, you can significantly increase your chances of getting forty winks.

Make sure to bring warm clothes with you, as some buses abuse the air conditioning. You may be offered a blanket, but this is not standard for cheaper seats - if you want one, bring your own or use your jacket.

Many overnight buses will play movies, often at full volume, but these are usually switched off at around midnight. Earplugs can come in handy in the meantime. The bus will have curtains but light does get in, so use an eyemask or fashion one out of a scarf. And an inflatable pillow is worth its weight in gold.

Bus travel in South America is a good way to get around. Just make sure you're prepared for it!

1. Choose the right company -- ask questions

There will probably be a variety of different companies servicing the route that you want to take, and they usually won't all be equal. Ask around to find out which are the most comfortable and have the best safety record -- talk to a local or visit the online forums. Price doesn't usually vary wildly (in Brazil, almost all companies charge the same price for the same route), but if there is a difference, find out why. The cheapest option is probably the cheapest for a reason -- go mid-range instead.

Some companies offer an online store to buy tickets, but it's generally a lot easier to buy them from the bus station. Going in to buy tickets also gives you a chance to ask a few questions about the service -- how long the journey is, where you'll be dropped off, whether any food or drink is included. If you're travelling for more than six hours, ask how many drivers will be on the bus -- most reputable companies have a policy that each bus should have two drivers who swap over every few hours. If there's only going to be one driver, ask how often the rest stops are; driver fatigue is one of the major causes of bus accidents.

2. Choose a seat

3. Look after your stuff

Large pieces of luggage are stored under the bus and you'll be given a ticket or token so that you can prove ownership when it's time to collect it. We haven't had any problems with theft but many other travellers have noticed that their bags had been riffled through when they picked up their luggage at the end of the journey. The best way to avoid this is to keep your bag with you -- try to get down to carry-on size anyway, as it's much easier to get around with less stuff. I use my bag as a footrest when sleeping on long-distance buses -- it means I can my legs are higher up, making it a lot easier for me to get to sleep.

Whatever you choose to do, keep valuables with you, preferably on your person. If you use a moneybelt, keep it out of sight at all times, and don't flash around expensive possessions.

4. Get comfortable

Make sure to bring warm clothes with you, as some buses abuse the air conditioning. You may be offered a blanket, but this is not standard for cheaper seats -- if you want one, bring your own or use your jacket.

Bus travel in South America is a good way to get around. Just make sure you're prepared for it!

Beyond the Iron Curtain – One: The Beer Hunters

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 16:00:00 +1300

Boundaries for travel are getting pushed back every year, with some exceptions due to political unrest, and more and more of the world is opening up for tourism. This ranges from the once closed Sultanate of Oman to previously war torn Sierra Leone.

In Western Europe we were once locked out from our neighbours in the east by the notorious “Iron Curtain”. It seems hard to believe now, that countries such as Poland, Ukraine, Latvia and the then Czechoslovakia were difficult, if not impossible, to visit. Accommodation outside of grotty overcharging hotels was tough to find unless you had the requisite contacts and correct papers.

Speeding tram in Prague

After the fall of the Berlin Wall all that began to change, it meant that their citizens found it easier to visit the west but it also meant that budget travellers could head east and see what the fuss was all about. The Czech velvet revolution had just occurred in the winter of 1989 and four of us were mad keen to head over to Czechoslovakia and visit Prague, its enigmatic capital.

Our mission started in London at a small hostel in Bayswater where, alarmed at the price of beer, we started a discussion on where in Europe had the cheapest. A fellow backpacker produced a battered set of notes a friend had written down about his recent trip to Prague and in bold was written 10 Cents for a pint of Pivo! At that point I think we were all in, notwithstanding the fact that we had absolutely no idea what Pivo tasted like.

Tower at the end of the Charles bridge

We managed to get flights to Munich (where we easily could have blown all our savings just at the Hofbrauhaus) and secured an overnight seated train for Prague. The trip was routine and uneventful until we reached the frontier where Immigration and border guards came on to the train to inspect our passports. Three of us were British and that presented no problem, our passports were stamped and they moved on. Our other team member was Australian and was dozing in the luggage rack, they gave him a bit of a poke and he woke up and handed over his passport. They examined this for a while and asked where his visa was. This woke him up smartly and he replied that he didn’t need one. That was probably not the wisest move as they hauled him down told him to grab his bags and threw him off the train!

By this time we were all fully awake, the train started to pull away slowly as I leaned out of the window and shouted that we would wait for him at the main station in Prague at midday for the next two days, after that he was on his own!

We arrived at Hlavni Nadrasi, Prague Central Station, the next morning bleary eyed and like lost souls. We had no guidebooks or maps so that was the first thing to take care of as well as change up some money. There were a few tourist info boxes and one set us up with a hotel, The Narodni Dum in the working class area of Zizkov which set us back about USD$10 for the room… a bargain!

My first thoughts of Prague on the way to the hotel were grey, grey and grey! It was freezing cold and damp, people shuffled along the paths and the sky was leaden. Not a welcoming feeling.

Things brightened up when our missing team member turned up at the station at midday, they had held him until the train had left then stamped his passport and made him wait three hours for the next one. He was unfazed by this and as keen as the rest of us to explore.
Food was our priority so we scouted around for a café or something similar. After a short while with no such type of restaurant showing up on our radar we asked a few locals, one spoke reasonable English and directed us to a small shop without any sign and said that would be a good choice.

Result! Pivo in Prague

It was just like the scene in American Werewolf in London where the two backpackers enter the pub on the moor and all talking stopped as the locals stared at them for a while before carrying on as normal. Fortunately a table was free and we hurried over to minimise the fuss.
This was definitely a neighbourhood café, not catering to any tourist trade, but the waitress was friendly enough and after handing out a stained one page menu said just one word… pivo?

We all smiled and the tension was broken, our first pivo was to arrive but what the heck were we supposed to do about the menu? All in Czech and it may as well have been Greek! Naturally, and we all know this now, the beer was excellent and sure enough it was cheaper than water. We solved the food crisis by wandering around the café, smiling at other diners and looking at their food; they must have thought we were nuts.

Meat, dumplings, gravy and some cabbage looking stuff seemed to be the favourite so we went with that. Happily it was tasty and inexpensive; we were getting to like Prague although we had yet to see any of the old city. That was about to change, time for some culture!

Kathmandu Quickstep - First Time Nepal

Sat, 26 Nov 2011 16:00:00 +1300

It can quite expensive to get to Nepal from Western Europe and peak season flights can reach the hundreds of Euros. I chose to get here a little more budget minded and skipped through Istanbul, jumping on an Air Arabia flight through Sharjah for 180 Euros one way. As I intended to carry on my trip east through India, this saved me a packet.

A handy tip for checking the low cost airlines is to Google the airport that you wish to fly into and check out the carriers flying in. It may mean some unconventional routes and airlines but the prices can sometimes save you quite a bit of your hard earned travel cash.

Kathmandu and Nepal had been on my to-do list for a while and I jumped at the chance to visit in early October, just about the best time climate wise.

Prayer wheels at Swayambhu

Most nationalities can get a visa at the airport and flying in on a one way ticket did not seem to cause any problems. There were a few forms to fill in and payment in USD varied depending upon the length of time that you wanted to stay. I would recommend choosing a longer stay visa if you think you may overstay as getting an extension could be problematic depending upon where you were intending to go in the country.

Finding a room at a budget price is not difficult in Kathmandu, although it could get squeezed a little in peak season if your budget is real low. I booked through Hostelbookers and found a central hostel close to the action in Thamel, the main tourist hub/ghetto. The hostel I chose offered free pickup from the airport and that saved me the hassle of the taxi scrum. If you haven’t arranged a pickup taxis are waiting to part you with your cash, bargain hard!

The driving experience is intense in Nepal. Kathmandu resembles a race track without any rules and the incessant beeping can drive you insane. Beaten up trucks vied for space with overloaded motorbikes and my driver dodged and careened through the smoggy streets with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a mobile phone a foot away from his head while shouting at it!

Temple at Durbar Square

I made it in one piece to the hostel and had my bags carried to the fourth floor, this pleased me as Kathmandu is at an elevation of 1290 metres and the traffic had already eaten up whatever oxygen was left. Drained but excited I collapsed on my bed and passed out for a couple of hours.

On my first evening I chose to explore Thamel, look up some good bars and grab a bite to eat. Kathmandu is blessed, or cursed depending upon your persuasion, with a plethora of the above and has just about every type of cuisine you could possibly imagine. I somehow doubted the quality of the tex-mex on offer and went instead for an upscale curry and a cold beer.

Food prices are very reasonable and the competition in Kathmandu keeps the standard quite high. Alcohol prices are expensive in comparison and you could easily find yourself paying a very large bill once you had downed a couple of ice cold Everest beers!

As a starting point for most adventure visitors to Nepal, Kathmandu is trekker central with all manner of equipment and clothing available including a couple of genuine western stores amongst all that fake North Face. Stocking up on the essentials before a trek or sourcing a complete set of gear is a doddle. Not having been trekking before in such a rarefied environment I was struck as to the amount of chocolate on offer, insane piles of Toblerones and Snickers bars were piled high in every store with tons of other brands littering the shelves. It made my Kendal Mint cake quiver in shame.

Monkey business at the temples

The following day I braved the traffic and walked to Durbar Square, the heart of the temple area, via old Kathmandu. This was harder to accomplish than I had anticipated, dodging maniacal motorbikes with huge bull bars on the front. If I got clipped by one of these I would be in serious trouble.

Looking around I could see some amazing architecture albeit clogged in with rebuilds, every chowk (crossroads) seemed to house a temple and the whole place screamed lived in and vibrant. It is not a place for the fainthearted or those with nominal lung capacity even less so for anyone suffering from an asthmatic condition. The fumes were eye watering.

Finally I made it to Durbar Square, the traffic calmed the cows moved at their own leisurely speed and the shophouses finally gave way to the temples. I was thankful to have found a peaceful heart to the city as I wandered unmolested around the scores of colourful and characterful buildings revelling in the architecture and painstaking creativity.

Kathmandu may be a necessary a pit stop for some, a pain for others. It can be both terrifying and rewarding but it is far from boring…I need to lie down now.

Three Touristy Spots Still Worth a Visit

Tue, 22 Nov 2011 14:00:00 +1300

“It’s not worth it. It’s so touristy.”

Have you ever heard this warning (or something similar to it) after telling a friend or fellow traveler that you’re planning to visit someplace firmly located along the tourist trail?

It might be the Las Vegas Strip, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, or the Forbidden City. It might be Niagara Falls, the Statue of Liberty, or the Vatican. It might be Stonehenge, the Sydney Opera House, or the Eiffel Tower. There are tons of “touristy” places around the world – places that are listed in every guidebook and that show up on every tour group itinerary. And these places are sometimes looked down upon by more seasoned travelers.

But why should that keep you away?

Many “touristy” sites are touristy for a reason. And that reason? Because they are awesome, and totally worth visiting.

Here are 3 so-called “touristy” sites that you shouldn’t miss on a trip around the world. Yes, these spots draw millions each year, but that shouldn’t dissuade you from visiting.

Pompeii, Italy

In the year 79 AD, the volcano Mount Vesuvius erupted in southern Italy, covering the nearby town of Pompeii in a thick layer of ash and essentially freezing it in time. Today, you can tour the ruins of this ancient city and see what remains after the long-ago disaster. Yes, Pompeii draws more than 2 million tourists per year, but the site is fascinating and well worth a visit. Whether you’re testing out the acoustics in the amphitheater, admiring pottery and frescos from thousands of years ago, or getting up close to some of Pompeii’s preserved former residents, this tourist attraction is one that is likely to hold your attention.

The Great Wall of China

They say it’s the only man-made structure that can be seen from space. I’m not sure if that’s accurate, but the Great Wall certainly is an architectural marvel that’s worth seeing in person. Stretching for thousands of miles, construction of the Great Wall began in the 5th century BC as a way to keep northern China safe from roving nomads. Today, the Wall is China’s top tourist attraction, drawing millions of visitors each year. Most people visit the restored Badaling section just outside of Beijing, but there are plenty of lesser-visited sections of the wall that those seeking a quieter experience can visit. Or, if you still want to check out Badaling, consider going during the off-season, when there aren’t nearly as many tourists. No matter what section you visit, though, climbing part of the Great Wall will be an accomplishment you won’t soon forget.

The Grand Canyon

The Grand Canyon is one of the United States’ top tourist attractions. Roughly 5 million visit this natural wonder each and every year from all over the world. And 5 million people per year can’t be wrong, right? The Grand Canyon is one tourist stop in America that definitely deserves the attention it receives. The Canyon – carved out over millions of years by the Colorado River in northern Arizona – is breathtaking, and absolutely worth braving the crowds for. Though, if you’re really opposed to the tour buses and crowded viewpoints, visit the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The North Rim only sees 10% of Grand Canyon tourists, and is much quieter – yet just as stunning – as the South Rim.

The bottom line here is that some “famous” tourist attractions are famous for a reason. Don’t count a destination out just because millions have been there before you. Those millions may, in fact, be onto something.

Tango in Buenos Aires

Fri, 18 Nov 2011 09:00:00 +1300

Buenos Aires is known for tango; it's part of the history of the city. It is kept alive in restaurants and tourist areas in the ever-present "tango show," which features the iconic music — often live — and several dancers, the women dressed in the appropriately short skirts and high heels. Locals look down on these shows, saying that they don't have the passion of true tango, that it's not real.

But the music does still have a place in the heart of porteños, everyone's mum used to play it in the evenings, everyone knows the most famous songs. And it's still played live in tiny clubs not usually visited by tourists, certainly not organised for the benefit of visitors.

A typical "tango show"

We were studying Spanish in Buenos Aires, and a fellow student invited us to go out for the night with him and a group of others. "I've found this awesome place," he said. "A real locals' bar."

The place was the Boliche de Roberto, a tiny bar about the size of a four-car garage, with a one-metre square stage wedged against one wall. We got there early (at 9pm) to secure one of the five or so tables; the rest were occupied by individual people obviously holding the space for friends. People trickled in, picking up a drink at the bar then joining friends or leaning against a handy wall.

By eleven, the place was packed and the first act came on: a guy with a guitar and a female singer. They had no amps, no other equipment than his guitar and her voice. The bar went silent, a hundred people listening respectfully, occasionally joining in for a line or two, which surprised me: in the quiet hush of the room, one person singing along was very noticeable. However, the singer didn’t seem to mind, just continued on, making eye contact with people in all parts of the room as she sang. The music was amazing: the sound of tango at its most simple.

Short skirts and heels are not always a part of tango

The set lasted about half an hour; we went back to our drinks and conversation. We were thinking about leaving at about 1am, when suddenly the next act arrived: two older guys with guitars. We stayed. It was the same music as the previous act, some of the same songs even, but completely different. Instead of husky soul, these guys had energy. They stayed standing, with a foot on their chairs and their guitars balanced on their knees. They started more slowly but built tempo over a few songs, then started encouraging the audience to join in. "Bueno," one of them said. "Un tango que todos conocen." (A tango that everyone knows.) And everyone did know: the bar broke into song.

Afterwards, they passed around a hat and everyone drifted into the street. There had been no dancing, no short skirts and high heels, but we felt like we'd really experienced tango; much more than we had in the touristy tango show we'd been at the week before.

Getting into Paraguay: an Adventure in Bureaucracy

Sat, 12 Nov 2011 21:00:00 +1300

Paraguay is one of the few South American countries that require New Zealanders to obtain a visa to enter, and at US$75 for a single entry or $100 for multiple, it's not a cheap one. Last year, travelling through South America with a group of three other Kiwis on a tight time budget, it just didn't seem worth the price, or at least not for the time we could give to Paraguay. This year, Craig and I decided to fork out. After all, we figured, he has a UK passport and British citizens don't require a visa, so we'd only need one between the two of us… and if we stayed for a week that was only about $10 per day. And surely we could save $10 a day on what we'd been spending in expensive Brazil… yes. The maths worked, and we decided to go for it.

For some reason, finding information about who needs visas to enter which countries is one of the most difficult tasks involved in travel, and the Paraguay visa information was even more elusive than most. I trawled the internet, trying to find an official website to give me the information I needed, eventually turning to the forums. There, I found out the price and that I could get a visa in Foz do Iguaçu, which was going to be our last stop before entering Paraguay anyway. I stopped reading and decided to leave it until I got there.

Encarnacion

We arrived in Foz on an overnight bus and checked into a hotel before venturing out to find the Paraguayan consulate. It was marked on the map we'd picked up in the bus station, but I decided to revisit the useful forum post I'd found just to double-check, which was definitely the right decision. I noted the address and also read that I needed a passport photo as well as a credit card and US$75 for the fee. Luckily, I always have a few passport photos on hand, so I threw a couple into my passport and we headed out the door.

The consulate was marked in more or less the right place on the map, but having the address made it a lot easier to find. The sign on the door said the office would accept documents for visas until 2.30pm. I glanced at my watch: 2.05. Just in time. We were met at the door by a friendly consulate employee, who explained what we needed to have with us (luckily we had it all), and who then gave us a slip of paper to take to the bank three-and-a-half blocks away.

At the bank, a bank employee deposited our 127 reals (which to my reckoning was quite a lot less than US$75, but oh well…) in the consulate's bank account. We walked back to the consulate, handed over the receipt, passport and photo, filled in a few forms and… waited. I'd thought I'd be told to come back in the morning, but in fact they didn't tell us anything. We waited in the office where I'd filled in the forms, making use of an open internet connection to fill the time.

An hour or so later (90 minutes since we'd first arrived at the consulate) I was given my passport and we were free to leave. And free to enter Paraguay! Sure, it had taken a long time, but considerably less than the full day I'd expected.

The next day we hopped on a public bus to take us over the border. I asked the driver to stop at customs, since we had to pass through passport control to officially leave Brazil and enter Paraguay -- there are big fines if you don't do that. He not only had no problem with that, he also gave me two blue slips of paper and told me we could hop back on the next bus that came along to take us across the bridge. Awesome.

The cooler option than walking

We passed through Brazilian customs without a hitch, since we hadn't lost the all-important white papers we’d been given on arrival. Back outside again, a bus was just pulling up. We showed our blue tickets and the driver told us to get on via the back door, obviously not wanting us to pass through the turnstile which registers the number of passengers, since we weren’t paying another fare. We rode across the Friendship Bridge in relative comfort, not envying the hundreds of people walking across in the midday heat. A few minutes later we disembarked again, to enter Paraguay.

The customs officer took my passport and gave a small nod on finding the visa in the right place. He stamped me in and I sighed in relief. Craig passed over his UK passport and was similarly stamped in… it was as easy as that. There was even an information office in the same room, where we got enough information to plan our entire trip, and, more importantly, our entire day.

Getting to Paraguay certainly wasn't a quick, easy, or cheap process, but we got there in the end. And it was certainly worth it… but that's another story.

Visiting the Itaipu Dam in Paraguay

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 11:30:00 +1300

The Itaipu dam is one of the seven wonders of the modern world, the world's largest hydroelectric power plant. It spans the river Paraná between Paraguay and Brazil, near the triple border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. You can visit from either side; we chose the Paraguayan one - mostly because we hadn't had time while we were in Brazil.

After crossing the Friendship bridge from Brazil's Foz do Iguaçu into Ciudad del Este, Paraguay, we stopped to ask for advice at the tourist office located in the customs building. A friendly clerk helped us find accommodation and plan out our week in Paraguay, as well as giving us information about how to get to the dam.

After settling into our hotel, withdrawing some cash from an ATM (which was more trouble than it should have been) and having lunch, we hopped on a bus heading towards Hernandarias. The conductor waved us on with a terse "si, si," in response to me asking if the bus was going to the dam. I wasn't sure if he had understood me, and was even less convinced when the bus proceeded to drive around the block and set off in the wrong direction.

Enough steel to build 380 Eiffel Towers

Soon though, we were hurtling along a highway that our map thought was the right one, and we turned right at a roundabout, just like we should: what a relief. Our map showed a fork up ahead, the left fork heading to Hernandarias, the right to Itaipu. As we approached the fork, I willed the bus to go right, but no... It turned left, and pulled over to let people off. The conductor leaned over to us. "Aca," (here) he said. Ah, so he had understood. We hopped off the bus and prepared ourselves for a long walk. But no, the visitor centre was only a hundred metres or so away, across a busy highway certainly, but not far.

We found the reception and asked if we could see the dam. There was some vacillation but the clerk eventually decided that yes, we could. She took our driver's licenses as identification, made a note of our details, then called over another employee to show us the way to a waiting coach.

The coach was already half-full of people, none looking particularly enthusiastic. A few minutes later the driver got on, followed by a guide who spent some time fiddling with a microphone before giving it up as a bad job. Maybe it was supposed to be a guided tour; we rode in silence.

Ten minutes or so along the road, the bus stopped and we all got out to admire the panoramic view from a specially-constructed lookout, which as well as the view also boasted information boards. "The Itaipu Dam contains enough steel to build 380 Eiffel Towers", is a fact that springs to mind. The view was impressive, and the river stretching off into the distance looked clean and beautiful.

Supplying electricity to Brazil and Paraguay

Soon, we had to hop back on the bus for the rest of the (silent) tour. We saw the dam lake as well as driving over the dam itself, getting close to the dam wall and a lot of the machinery. I had no idea what each part did, but it was definitely magnificent. The forest of electricity towers were connected to the dam by thick cables, sending electricity off to Brazil and Paraguay.

Back in reception, we looked for a brochure to take away with us and found one with the tour times on it. There were only four per day, with the last starting at 3:30 - preceded by a video at 3pm Huh. We'd arrived at about 3:20 and had been let on to the tour, but had missed the video. We were just about to leave when I thought I'd just ask if the information on the brochure was correct. It was, and upon understanding why I was asking, the guy behind the desk took us upstairs to play the 20-minute video just for us.

After watching the video (which was in Spanish) I understood a lot more about what I'd seen. The history, the construction process and the current workings of the dam were all explained well, using lots of statistics, graphics and emotive music. Our friend the desk-guy reappeared at the end to switch on the lights and usher us downstairs.

Back across the road, we waited for a bus to take us back to Ciudad del Este, then walked from the bus terminal back to our hotel in the dusk. It had been a great afternoon out, though it might have been good to know the tour times before we had headed out there!

Cycling Mt Lofty

Thu, 27 Oct 2011 22:30:00 +1300

Extreme sports are a way of life for Kiwis. The land of bungee jumping, white-water rafting and zorbing also hosts a myriad of other very active activities. I've tried most of them - sometimes it's hard to avoid when you live in the country that's known as the adventure capital of the world. And I've enjoyed them, for the most part. But I have a confession to make: I'm scared of heights. Or rather, I'm scared of falling. I get more scared on a rickety ladder than I do at the top of the Sky Tower (Empire State Building, Petronas Twin Towers, insert name of tall building here). However, a lot of these activities involve a high chance of falling - in fact, in the case of bungee jumping, that's the whole idea.

On a less steep stretch

However, I make a point of not letting this stop me doing things - I just try not to fall (this didn't work with the bungee jumping, sadly; at least I didn't hit the bottom!). So recently, when we were offered the chance to cycle down Mount Lofty in Adelaide, South Australia, I said "sure" with a big smile. I wasn't smiling quite so much at the start of the tour, though. Ian from Escapegoat had picked us up from our accommodation and driven us to the top of Mount Lofty, the highest point in the Adelaide Hills. He set us up with bikes, helmets and gloves and pointed out the sights of the city from the viewpoint on the summit. We had to cycle a hundred metres or so down the road to the start of the path, and that's when it all started to go wrong for me.

Quintessential Australia: koala in gum tree

I'm a confident enough cyclist on the flat - no problem at all in Holland, for example - but this was the opposite of flat in several ways. The path had a serious gradient to it, it was a little overgrown, and the rocks that made up the path ranged in size from pebbles to baseball-sized. I gritted my teeth, gripped the handlebars and went for it. But not for long. I came around a corner, lost control, gained it again, kept going, squeezed the brakes, hit a volleyball-sized rock and ever-so-slowly toppled left and onto the ground. I fell.

I was unimpressed at myself for falling, and more unimpressed with the rocks that ripped up my leg. Bits of grit were stuck in the wound; I stared at it unbelievingly as the two other members rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. I'd conveniently left space on the path for them to pass but they stopped to help me clean up. "The good news," said Ian, "Is that this is without doubt the most difficult part of the trip." And he was right.

We hopped back on the bikes and soon the path smoothed out and widened and we rode on with Cleland Wildlife Park in mind. We stopped for an hour to feed the kangaroos and emus and to see the koalas (who were strangely active, I don't know what's in the eucalyptus leaves in Adelaide, but they were acting like they'd just drunk a Red Bull).

Yeah - gidday!

After a coffee, we set off again down the hill, turning off the road back onto the path which varied in quality from wide and smooth to steep and rocky. In the interest of not cutting my knee open, I took Ian's advice and walked down a couple of the steeper sections, but otherwise just kept going. Our way took us along a beautiful river gorge, the only people on the path. We saw wild koalas sleeping in the eucalyptus trees above our heads as we cycled along the foothills, and the path gradually changed from walking track to pavement; soon we were cycling through the suburbs and back into Adelaide central.

At the end of the day, I was exhausted but exhilarated - I'd cycled the Mount Lofty Descent, survived my first fall in several years and had even got to see wild koalas. And I've got the scars to prove it.

Why Your Mum is Wrong: Drinking 'Mate' in Argentina

Mon, 24 Oct 2011 22:30:00 +1300

Your mum brought you up to have good manners, I'm sure, and expects you to do her proud while you're travelling: clean up after yourself, eat with your mouth closed, say please and thank you. And she's right, of course. But you're going to have to forget some of the things your mum taught you if you're going to drink mate in Argentina.

Drinking mate is an important part of Argentinian culture. It's both a hot drink and a social tradition, a ritual and a medium for conversation. I had seen people drinking mate before, both in South America and back home in New Zealand, and had even tried it for myself. It wasn't until I attended a "how to make mate" class at Expanish, our Spanish language school in Buenos Aires, that I really felt like I understood the custom.

The ornate bombilla

Mate is prepared in a small cup that's also called a mate, which could be made of metal, wood, leather, or gourd shell among other materials. The principal ingredient is yerba mate, a dried tea-like herb. Unlike tea though, you almost fill the cup with the herb, then add hot (but not boiling) water until the cup is full - and because you've already put in so much yerba that's quite a small quantity. Then, you drink the resulting liquid through a metal straw called a bombilla.

Usually one person is responsible for preparing the mate, and has control of the yerba, the mate cup, and the thermos flask of hot water. This person takes the first drink, which is often very bitter, then refills the mate with hot water from the thermos before passing it to someone else. This second person drinks all the liquid in the mate and hands it back to the person with the thermos. It's perfectly acceptable to make that sucking sound that used to annoy your parents so much when you drank through a straw - in fact it's expected: how else can you tell that there's no more water left in the cup?

The cup is filled with yerba mate

When I first tried mate, I thought I was just supposed to take a sip then pass it on to the next person, like with Fijian kava or when sharing a beer. But no, it's important to drink all the liquid until you hear the sucking sound, then pass the cup back to the coordinator to refill it for the next person. And definitely don't say "gracias" although it's probably second nature to say thanks as you return the cup, as this means you don't want any more. Just smile.

The first time I drank mate, in Uruguay, I made this mistake. Or at least I must have; I felt a bit offended that my hosts stopped offering me the mate cup, but continued drinking themselves. Only later I realised that I probably said "gracias" and they would have thought I'd had enough. Now, after a bit of practice, I can say nothing at all with the best of them.

Mate traditions vary according to region and personal preference. Some people add sugar, some drink it with cold water instead of hot. In Paraguay it's not unusual to use juice instead of water. But one thing that is shared by all mate-drinkers is the social aspect. Yes, mate can be drunk alone, and often is if there's no-one around to share it. But if there is, it's a way to relax, chat, catch up with your friends at the end of the day, generally hang out together. For this reason, many offices don't allow their workers to matear ("do mate"), as this would have a serious negative impact on productivity.

You can drink as noisily as you wish!

I really enjoyed seeing people wander around with their thermos flasks tucked under one arm, or sitting around on the beach or on park benches sharing a mate with friends or family. I also enjoyed how the tradition has generated new products and services: the need for hot water has led to the installation of hot water dispensers in almost all petrol stations, for example — you get a bit more than thermos-full for one peso. Similarly, as well as being able to boil water and switch off, electric kettles also have a mate setting, which maintains the water at the correct temperature for adding to your mate cup.

Drinking mate in Argentina is a great way to immerse yourself in the culture of the country; not only are you experiencing a local tradition, you're probably doing it with locals. So prepare yourself for the bitter taste, forget what your mum said about sucking through straws and saying thank you, and give mate a go.

Christ the Redeemer, Rio de Janeiro

Mon, 17 Oct 2011 22:30:00 +1300

The statue of Christ the Redeemer is a symbol of Rio de Janeiro, and a trip to the top of the hill to visit it was a definite on our to-do list while in the city. We had the opportunity to go as part of an organised tour on the day of our arrival with the other members of the Intrepid trip we had been doing, but decided to leave it for later in our stay, which turned out to be a good decision. We did have to wait several days for the weather to clear up, unless all we wanted to see was the inside of a cloud, but the wait was worth it.

The street art made up for footpath quality

We were staying in the neighbourhood of Santa Theresa, a lovely area of town that's famous for its steep streets and the trams that run up and down them. Sadly, at the moment the trams aren't running as a result of some recent accidents, and the buses that have replaced them aren't nearly as picturesque. We decided that since we were already halfway up the hill, walking to the statue would be a cost-effective, interesting and healthy option.

We set off at about eleven am, turning left up the hill. The statue was already visible high above the treetops, so the goal was in sight — even if it did seem very very far away.

The way was straightforward, we had been told to follow the tram tracks then the signs, which was exactly what we did. Footpath quality varied from bad to non-existent and when there was a pavement cars were usually parked on it, blocking the way and forcing us out into the road. No worries though, the urban jungle just presents its own variety of challenges - instead of worrying about snakes and other animals, you can keep your eye out for oncoming buses.

The street art along the route was amazing, as were the views out over Rio, which we could glimpse occasionally through breaks in the trees. Jesus, too, came in and out of view, ever-closer but still tantalisingly out of reach.

Rejoining the crowds at the top

The road steepened significantly after we turned off from the tram tracks, and the footpaths disappeared almost completely. We crossed and recrossed the windy road to avoid being run over by the many cars, taxis and minibuses that passed us at speed going in both directions, and took a break by the ruins of an old turnoff which, oddly, had a basket of eggs sitting in the middle of it. We had passed a turnoff to our left, to a lookout that promised excellent views of the Christ and Rio, but the road looked steep and we had no idea how long a walk it would be; we decided to leave it until later.

Not long after our break, we turned a corner and found ourselves in a parking lot; we'd arrived at the ticket office. Turns out the R$17.75 entrance fee (it’s more expensive on the weekends) includes a minivan ride up the last stretch of hill: glory! I took the last seat available, between the driver and a chatty tour leader/amateur photographer, and buckled up for the windy drive.

The van dropped us off at the top, where we swiped our tickets through the entrance turnstile and took an elevator then an escalator to the highest point, coming out behind the statue.

Panoramic views

A few steps took us around to the other side, where tourists jostled for position, trying to take an iconic picture of themselves with as few other people in it as possible, some lying on the ground to get the correct angle. As for us, we headed to the barriers, from where we could see Rio de Janeiro stretching out in front of us: the Rio-Niteroi bridge, the port, the Sugar Loaf, Copacabana and Ipanema beaches, the lagoon, the favelas ... it was all there. Luckily the weather was fantastic, clear blue skies and lowish temperatures, the complete opposite of the overcast days that had prevented us from heading up earlier.

After spending half an hour or so enjoying the views and looking up and up at the statue of Jesus, we had a drink at the snack bar then started our descent: the same as before but in reverse. On the way back down we took the detour to the lookout we’d seen signposted before, which turned out to also host the helicopter pad from where you can take a scenic helicopter ride around Rio. The views of the Christ on one side and of Rio from the other were as impressive as they had been up above, but with rather fewer tourists around. Then, it was back to the road for a leisurely walk back to Santa Theresa.

The alternative lookout

Sure, you can get to the statue of Christ the Redeemer by taxi, car, or organized tour, or see it by helicopter if you have the money to pay for it, but nothing beats going by foot.

Kayak with Dolphins in South Australia

Thu, 13 Oct 2011 16:00:00 +1300

The heat of Adelaide's summer days send people flocking to the water. The city's beaches are a great place to start, but the prevalence of sharks in this area of Australia make me wary of swimming out too deep. Kayaking, however, is a perfect solution - you're out in the water, but sharks are unlikely to be a problem. And if you head to Port Adelaide, not only is it easy to hire kayaks, but you'll be sharing the water with a friendly pod of dolphins.

We went on a two-hour tour with Adventure Kayak SA who also hire out kayaks by the hour at the launching point at Garden Island boat ramp. We were promised dolphins, mangroves and shipwrecks, and our guide David delivered them all.

In search of that infamous smile

There were already dolphins to be seen swimming in the estuary as David gave us the safety briefing and taught us how to use the rudder on the two-person kayaks. Launching was straightforward and we headed directly for the dolphins - but not too close. Our guide warned us not to approach closer than 50 metres, which seemed an incredibly large distance until I realised that the dolphins were quite happy to come up to us - one swam within a metre of my kayak.

After 20 minutes or so of watching the dolphins play (they seemed to be having an incredibly good time) we paddled in the direction of the mangrove swamp. The tide was high, which meant the way was narrower than usual, we had to paddle with care to avoid being hit by the branches of the mangroves which lined the river. We pulled up in a wider patch of water while David explained the importance of mangroves to the ecosystem and economy, as well as talking about some of the fish that live among the trees. The dolphins had followed us up the estuary, and on emerging from the mangroves we saw them swimming past towards the power plant a couple of kilometres upstream.

After turning and paddling back past our starting point and under the jetty, we pulled into a group for a few minutes and rested while David told us about the dodge tide, a phenomenon that only occurs in three areas of the world - for part of the month there's no tidal action at all. This, combined with the chemicals naturally produced by the mangroves, can put the fish into a stupor, so that they appear to be dead or sleeping; the Aboriginal name for the area means “sleeping place "

Port Adelaide, South Australia

The tour continued around the coast of the island, and soon a shipwreck came into view; we landed the kayaks on a sandspit and got out to take photos and listen to David's explanation of how the Santiago came to be a feature of a kayak tour. There were several more boats to be seen, but we only visited one other, which had been a victim of the Depression - sold for wood when the owners went bankrupt and no-one could afford the asking price.

All that remained was to paddle back to the boat ramp - no easy task against the tide. However, the effort of paddling made our eventual arrival that much more rewarding, and we returned to the shore tired but satisfied - both by the exercise and the experience of hanging out with dolphins.