Posted Wednesday, April 30, 2008, 9:51 PM by Lonely Planet
I like to consider myself the kind of traveller that's open to new experiences. I take my shoes off in temples, I never once asked for a fork in Japan and I make sure I wear t-shirts ripped and off-the-shoulder on kibbutz. I'm a paragon of the 'tread lightly' school of travel, honest. But everybody's got a limit and it's just a matter of time before it finds them.
I met mine in a yurt in a summer meadow in Kyrgyzstan, in the form of kymys: smoked, fermented mare's milk. Fabled to be the beverage of champions, the milk is also a dietary staple and pride and joy of Kyrgyz nomads. The mares are milked every hour, and over several days the milk is fermented and stirred in a smoke filled barrel. The result is a fizzy, smoky, vaguely alcoholic milk drink.
With an audience of a Kyrgyz nomadic family, my Russian speaking host and translator as well as the neighbours from the yurt over the stream, I smiled politely and tried desperately to calm my gag reflex as I placed the bowl back down. It's not an easy thing to do, but sometimes learning your limits is a crucial part of the travel experience.
Where have you had to draw the line?
- Jenni Kauppi
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It was going to be a fairly typical travel-blog entry: a horrific series of bum-busting bus rides and sloooow boats, complete with mosquitos and leg paralysis and drunk Scottish backpackers.
That was before we went to the Killing Fields.
For an American, exploring Saigon can be confronting. The War Remnants Museum, just north of the buzzing backpacker area, is graphic and brutal. One feels hot in the languorous sunshine; then one sees the tiny prison where hundreds of women were stuffed for months without fresh air. One flinches at the pain from a cramped boat ride; then one views the pictures of torture and the maiming resulting from chemical warfare - wounds that carry over into a new generation of Vietnamese.
But terrible as this place is, it cannot prepare a traveller for the Killing Fields of Cheuong Ek, Cambodia. About 15km outside Phnom Penh, this is where Pol Pot set up his death camp. Millions of innocents were slaughtered here, sometimes several thousand a day. A stupa filled with the skulls of the slain looms over the entrance. One tries to imagine faces on the bones staring back, seeing the features of men, women and children. There is a tree nearby against which Khmer Rouge guards smashed children until they were broken corpses.
Back in the capital, the Tuol Slang Genocide Museum continues the horror. It was a school once, and in the breezy open air one can almost hear the children running about at playtime. Enter the classrooms, though, and the voices of the ghosts change to wails and moans. The Khmer Rouge cadre brought people here to be questioned, tortured, and massacred. Out of the tens of thousands of prisoners who entered the compound, seven survived. The faces of the dead stare out from photographs - mugshots and torture photos taken days, or hours, before and after their deaths.
Why, I wonder, do we go to these places? Is it some macabre instinct we have - the same draw that leads one down the path of dark tourism? I'm not so sure: I haven't wanted to visit the torture dungeons of Europe since I got out of my teens, for example. I prefer to think that we have to live through these experiences to remember. Sometimes I wish that these spots had been razed, and eradicated from human memory. But then we would learn nothing.
Part of me imagines that I'm comforting myself by insisting that it's not some vile voyeuristic urge that draws travellers to places such as the Killing Fields or the Nazi death camps in Germany and Poland. But I think back to the description written next to the old death shed in the Killing Fields: "These men had human bodies, but they had the hearts of demons."
The horror is that it's not true. These were people like you and me. I cannot forget.
- Vivek Wagle, Site Editor
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Posted Sunday, April 27, 2008, 7:45 PM by Lonely Planet
Visiting Kyoto in May? Well don't miss the annual Aoi Matsuri (hollyhock festival), a grand procession of Heian-era costume garbed folk from the Imperial Palace to the Shimo-gamo and Kami-gamo shrines.
If you're lucky enough to be in the city at this time you can even catch a rare glimpse of the local maiko and geisha when they perform the Kamogawa Odori, or Kamo river dances.
Performed at Ponto-cho's Kaburen-jo theatre since 1872, the dances combine traditional dance, kabuki-like theatre, singing and the playing of traditional instruments and are the closest you will get to these famed figures without a tonne of yen and a teahouse introduction!
The Aoi Matsuri takes place every year on May 15 at 10.30am and follows a course through the streets of Kyoto from the Imperial Palace to the Shimo-gamo Shrine and then the Kami-gamo Shrine.
The Kamogawa Odori are performed from May 1 - 24 every year and tickets are between 3000 to 5000 yen. Call Ponto-cho Kaburen-jo Theatre on 075-221-2025 for details.
- Emma Henderson
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Posted Wednesday, April 23, 2008, 11:48 PM by Lonely Planet
I still hanker for the Hungarian version of the Magnum ice cream that had sour cherry folded through the vanilla, and the guys at Gridskipper have recently been rhapsodising about the classic hot fudge sundae at LA's Twohey's Restaurant. An old friend who travelled in Poland during the late eighties reckoned there was nothing to top their luscious, lavish cones, although I'd back the creamy gianduia I had in a quiet, sunny backstreet of Venice to give them a run for their money.
What makes great ice cream great? Is it fudge-covered peanut butter-filled pretzels in vanilla malt ice cream rippled with fudge and peanut butter US-style abandon or the subtle, one-note pleasure of a bitter lemon gelato? And where's the best ice cream you've ever had?
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Posted Tuesday, April 22, 2008, 6:48 PM by Lonely Planet
Memories; they're as precious as truffles, as fragile as meringues. Hearing your favourite tune being used to sell coffee, or that your first true love is now married to a bastard can take away a little part of your soul. The memory banks of a traveller can be just as easily looted. We have all felt the pain; the ramen shop is now a Starbucks, the flawless beach is covered in sewage, or the soaring mountain view is stuffed by the carpark and bungee tower. If they call it progress or whatever, that's not the point, something significant has been changed for good. Don't get me wrong, I am not afraid of change. But knowing that some place special has changed forever, can make you want to never go back.
For me, the time I spent in Laos 15 years ago remains very special. I stayed with my sister in an old Russian hospital in Vientiane, sipped Beer Lao while the sun set and generally took it easy in the most laidback country in Asia. Things have moved on in the 'Land of a Million Elephants', and much needed tourist dollars are rolling into a desperately poor country, but when I see what's happened in towns like Luang Prabang I'm not sure I want to go back.
Where can't you go back to, because it just ain't the same?
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Posted Sunday, April 20, 2008, 10:57 PM by Lonely Planet
So, your big trip is finally here. Yay! Your passport's in order, you've managed to reduce your vital hand-luggage necessities to 100ml of liquid in a plastic bag, and your credit card's topped up and ready to bolster a foreign economy - it's lift-off time. Now you just have to endure that hellishly long flight to the other side of the world.
If, like many travellers, you can't sleep on planes no matter how many pills you pop, you have a real issue. Who wants to touch down looking and feeling like an extra from Night of the Living Dead? Well, sorry - can't help you there, but look on the bright side: this is your chance to catch up on all that long-overdue reading you never get time for in the hubbub of your daily existence. So ditch that predictable in-flight entertainment, keep your eyedrops close, and get booked!
Which raises the question: what's your preferred reading matter on a long-haul flight? Do you like to study up on your phrasebook, or get under your destination's skin with a novel that's set there? Does light-weight, easy-to-read fluff make the hours fly faster than a dense literary masterpiece? And do people really read those airport blockbusters?
My scientifically unproven theory is that the compressed cabin atmosphere and enforced upright position make it difficult to concentrate on anything too challenging. A brief survey among friends and colleagues seems to back this up, revealing long-haul reading choices ranging from celebrity biographies to police procedurals, Marie Claire magazine to, ahem, The Toyboy Diaries.
Not a War & Peace in sight.
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The explosion of chip-cheap flights has changed the way we travel. Suddenly, a weekender in Riga is as affordable as a trip to the countryside. On short hops, the lack of frills doesn't matter much - but what about longer haul? Airlines like Singapore's Tiger Air offer alluringly low fares, and most of us would be willing to forfeit leg room and first-release movies for those kind of prices, but travellers are beginning to swap horror stories - delayed or cancelled flights, hidden costs for food and baggage, crap customer service. Are budget flights worth the hassle?
Labels: Airports, budget flights, cheap, Tiger Air
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Posted Thursday, April 17, 2008, 6:38 PM by Lonely Planet
At home I'm pretty organised, but when I'm travelling it's like I become some bizarro dimwit version of myself who has had half her brain sucked out at 30,000 feet and I seem incapable of doing the most basic things like getting out of a cab with all my belongings.
So if you do ditz out and lose your camera while you're travelling, check out this website dedicated to reuniting found cameras and orphan photos with their rightful (if slightly embarrassed because they post some of the pictures) owners. And if you find a camera, you can email in a couple of shots off the memory card to post.
There's even been a hilarious internet furore associated with a lost camera being found and some kid with diabetes getting attached to it and the kid's parents refusing to give it back. Smellin' kinda hoaxy?
P.S Charlie's blog has got a good tip about adding a text file to your memory card with your contact deets on it so it can be returned to you if you lose it.
Labels: camera, lost and found
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Posted Monday, April 14, 2008, 11:07 PM by Lonely Planet
It's an English tradition that the Americans and Australians have perfected: the pub crawl. The ultimate test of endurance, perseverance and social aptitude/ineptitude, the pub crawl can elevate one to legendary status or render one a social pariah for years.
For a great pub crawl, you need a few ingredients:
- a city with pubs in profound proximity
- a forgiving transport environment (you don't want cars bearing down on you as you stumble towards your goal)
- good weather (try crawling on ice - not fun!)
- an established drinking culture (you don't want to be the boorish outsider who's annoying the locals)
With all these criteria in mind, we reckon that there are a few incredible cities in the world for a crawl. To us, the obvious ones are New York, Buenos Aires, Madrid, Manchester, Brussels, Munich, Moscow, Prague, Cape Town, Hong Kong and Melbourne.
But we know this is just scraping the surface. Some pub-crawling gems remain nearly undiscovered by the non-local populace - take, for example, Maryborough in Queensland, Australia, which set the record for the world's biggest pub crawl. And then there are the offbeat crawls that you'd never think of (a vending-machine crawl in Tokyo? Brilliant!).
So what do you think - are there any pub-crawling gems that the world needs to know about?
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Posted Wednesday, April 09, 2008, 3:09 PM by Lonely Planet
And so dawned the last day of the 23rd Marathon des Sables, a 17.5 km 'sprint' into the small oasis town of Tazzarine and a long-awaited return to civilization. Spiked by an imperceptible homing instinct and fuelled by inordinate amounts of adrenalin, the pace was breathlessly electric as we emerged like escaped hostages out of the desert and ran in small groups through Tazzarine's dusty streets lined for the occasion with throngs of cheering spectators.
I had long dreamt about the cocktail of conflicting emotions that I would feel as I crossed the finish line. But, as the magic moment approached and I dug deep into my for a last reserves of energy for a final push, all I could muster was a dry gasp of disbelief. All around chaos reigned. Behind me a Spanish runner crumpled in exhaustion to the ground and began to weep, up front about half a dozen strangers reached out and enthusiastically shook my hand, while poised at the end of the finishing funnel the ebullient race organiser, Patrick Bauer, grabbed me in an obligatory French bear hug and heartily congratulated me on my feat (brave man - I hadn't showered in over a week)
And it was only then - for the first time in 7 days - that I was able to turn around and glance back at what I had long thought to be the impossible road; 152 miles of raw and uncompromising desert wilderness; ten nervous months of dreaming, plotting, training and planning.
Seen today through the prism of our euphoric post-race celebrations, the Marathon des Sables is far more than just a run across the desert; it is an uncensored journey into the inner workings of the human soul. Tested to your physical and mental limits and pushed daily to the brink of exhaustion you need spade loads of heart, passion, courage and determination just to survive it. But for those that finish, the rewards are immeasurable. The heady joys of life lived at a higher intensity, the sweet satisfaction of a hard won victory, the strange camaraderie borne out of short-term friendships that are forged like unbreakable bonds in the desert dust.
Would I do it again? Absolutely not. But after coming in an extremely pleasing 70th out of 801 starters on my 42nd birthday, the memory of this extraordinary event will stay with me long after the sore shins and bleeding blisters have subsided.
- Brendan SainsburyLabels: Marathon des Sables
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Posted Sunday, April 06, 2008, 5:11 PM by Lonely Planet
Lonely Planet author Brendan Sainsbury is on the last leg of the daunting Marathon des Sables, a 150 mile (240 km) ultra marathon across the Sahara:
"Day 6 and the Marathon des Sables suddenly became a race. As the temperature hit 46 degrees Celsius, the first 100 runners recklessly bolted from the start line as if the previous 5 days of madness had been nothing but a warm up. Perhaps the desert has toughened us all up. We certainly look tougher - and a lot rougher too. Seven days unshaven, unshowered and without proper food and we've started to resemble slightly malnourished desert soldiers from an old WWII movie.
Today's stage was a standard 26 mile marathon, but rather than wilting under the Moroccan sun I seemed to discover a new energy. Was it adrenalin, nerves, or the final numbing of my body's pain receptors? It's hard to say. Maybe it was the thought of the finish line tomorrow after 245km of blood, sweat and tears. Or maybe it was the promise of tonight's special treat: the race organisers have flown out the Paris Opera to perform for us live in the middle of our disheveled desert camp. A surreal ending to a truly surreal race."
Labels: Africa, Marathon des Sables
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Posted Thursday, April 03, 2008, 8:15 PM by Lonely Planet
The Chinese government's recent crackdown on violent protests in Tibet has had global effects. In India, ex-politicians are calling for a boycott on all Chinese goods, while Reporters Without Borders is demanding that every nation shun the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games.
Meanwhile, Beijing has criticised the efforts of the Dalai Lama to quell the anti-China actions.
Will these developments affect your travel considerations? Are you considering - or reconsidering - a trip to the Summer Olympics or Tibet? More philosophically, should politics be a factor in deciding what parts of the world you want to visit?
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Lonely Planet author Brendan Sainsbury reports from the Sahara on his progress in the daunting Marathon des Sables, a 150 mile (240 km) ultra marathon.
"Day 4 is what the Marathon des Sables is all about, the 75km 'long' stage that crosses precipitous mountains, undulating sand dunes and dried-up lakes, and makes training for the French Foreign Legion look like a relaxing vacation.
I had no idea to prepare for such an undertaking so I just set off running, climbing, and sometimes staggering, while all the time refusing to either stop or look behind me. There were many peaks and troughs during this long dark day (and night) of the soul, but I rallied in the last 8km came in 72nd just as night was falling.
At the finish, I have never felt so exhausted and struggled to make it back to my tent laden down with my rucksack and mandatory 4 litres of water. Dinner was freeze dried chicken noodles made with cold water and my bed a thin, yet surprisingly comfortable, Moroccan carpet. By 9.30pm I had fallen into a deep slumber dreaming about cheeseburgers and trying to blot out the prospect of Friday's 42km marathon."
Labels: Africa, Marathon des Sables
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Posted Tuesday, April 01, 2008, 3:17 PM by Lonely Planet
Lonely Planet author Brendan Sainsbury is currently running the daunting Marathon des Sables, a 150 mile (240 km) ultra marathon across Morocco's Sahara Desert.
"Days 2 and 3 have been the equivalent of two back to back marathons in 45 degree heat. Running in these conditions is like war without the bullets, a daily battle against sand, heat, and your tortured inner psyche. But it's not all so unbearable. Extreme events like this can deliver some amazing epiphanies. There's the feisty night time camaraderie around our desert camp, the cheers reserved for the last competitor to cross the line, and the strength of the human spirit that emerges when you (and everyone else) are forced to draw on your last available drop of energy.
I haven't washed for five days now, but I am sleeping surprisingly well in a sleeping bag with just the stony desert for a bed. I'm still in about 85th position in the overall rankings but the desert has taken its toll on my back and feet.
Tomorrow's the ultimate test, a 75km double marathon that starts at 9am and will continue long into the night. Wish me luck."
Labels: Africa, Marathon des Sables
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A new era has dawned: welcome to the age of open skies. What does this much-trumpeted transatlantic air agreement mean for travellers? Not that much, it seems.
Open skies has long been a dream of airlines. Until this week, only four airlines have been able to operate from London's Heathrow airport to US destinations. From today any EU or US-based airline can do just that - provided it's got a landing slot, that is. Indeed, these airlines can operate a route from between any two airports in the EU or US. The idea is simple: open skies means more choice and more competition.
So far, so nice for travellers who aren't very well served by existing routes. Air France has launched a London to Los Angeles service, while Northwest and Continental are serving more US destinations direct from the UK. Travellers between London and New York will benefit from 7000 extra seats a week.
You'd think all this would mean cheaper flights, but it seems that this is unlikely. Economy fares have come down a lot over the past few years, and fuel prices look set to keep costs steady. All these airlines are going after the lucrative business market, and fares here could well come down. There's still a long way to go before these fares get within splurge range of most of us.
In summary: open skies means more routes, more seats but not cheaper flights. In the absence of the latter, an open-jawed yawn is likely to be most travellers' reaction.
- Tom Hall
Labels: Airports, Europe, Travelsnitch
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