Posted Thursday, July 31, 2008, 4:07 PM by Lonely Planet
'You can't have too much of a good thing.'
Oh no? What about beer, or chocolate, or... You get my point. You can have too much of anything and that, dear blogees, includes us - travellers.
I am convinced that there is a tipping point in travel when the introduced species, the traveller, becomes a pest species, and the 'ecosystem' of the host destination is unalterably changed. Examples:
Bali,
Canary Islands,
Paris,
Prague...
People agonise over the difference between a traveller and a tourist. But in focusing on qualitative differences they miss the point: the difference is quantitative. A single visitor is a traveller; a visitor among a ten thousand is a tourist. Wear what you will to stand apart from the horde, you're a part of it.
In this gilded age of mass travel, of Googling and globalism,
city breaks, career breaks,
gap years and flashpacking - on this shrinking planet - have we reached a global tipping point? Have we, by sheer weight of numbers and spending power, refashioned the world to make it safe and palatable for the likes of us? I wonder...
-Michael Day is a Lonely Planet author who's working inhouse Labels: gap year
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It's been a slow but steady decline of a once charming street - not even gentrification, just crapification. What was once a beautifully down-at-heel village of delis, vintage stores and labyrinthine bookshops is now a mind-numbing roll-call of high-street obviousness. And now, the final nail in the coffin - my favourite old Jewish diner is closing, taking its swirly bronze wallpaper with it.
I find it hard when an area I love evaporates into the ether. But is it just me being a hostage to nostalgia? Am I yearnng for a time the generation before me saw as vulgar and banal?
Today's Johnny-come-lately is tomorrow's neighbourhood icon. It just has to have that magic.
- Dee Dee Luxe
Labels: St Kilda
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Posted Tuesday, July 29, 2008, 12:11 AM by Lonely Planet
One of my favourite things to do when I go to another country is go to the movies. Even if I can't understand the language, seeing (or hearing) how people react to the movies can be entertainment in itself. And then there's the movie houses - my favourites would have to be the floridly magnificent Tuschinski in Amsterdam (it's nick-named the Dowager's Bon-Bon Box), the faded powder-blue Deco elegance of Mumbai's Apollo, and the lavish mish-mash of San Francisco's Castro.
First on my wish list? The Ballerina Ballroom Cinema of Dreams, the Scottish festival dreamed up by Tilda Swinton and Mark Cousins - eclectic programming, a venue with a peerless pedigree (the Who and Pink Floyd played there) and an entry fee that can be waived for a tray of home-baked fairy cakes.
Food, of course, is an important element of any cinema experience. According to the Thorn Tree, the Ritz in Scranton, Pennsylvania 'give you pickles from a big jar.'
Now that's entertainment.
- Cherry Washington
Labels: cinema
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Posted Monday, July 28, 2008, 4:39 PM by Lonely Planet
Call me ignorant, but Europe in June spells sunshine to me. It's why we chose that month to escape Melbourne and the beginning of winter. Unfortunately, winter came with us. It rained everywhere we went, which in some places didn't matter: Barcelona is just as beautiful in a downpour, Paris is arguably more romantic under an ominous grey sky, and London just wouldn't be London without a shower or six.
But when it rained in Croatia I was mad. We'd skipped Budapest and Sarajevo to spend two weeks island hopping in the Adriatic where the sun would surely shine. It did not, not even on Hvar, which receives an incredible 2724 hours of sunshine a year. Our week on the island contributed three hours to the annual total.
It didn't work out the way we'd planned, but in the end it didn't matter. We slept in, had long lunches, discovered Croatia's national parks and Tuscan-style regions, and got lost in Dubrovnik's magical Old Town.
Our planned beach time was spent at the bar, and I lost count of the times I slipped on the polished stone of the Stradun. But the ice-cream tasted just as good.
And another unexpected bonus: the weather was so bad that every hotel offered us a discount and an apology because 'it never rains here'.
How do you like the rain when you're on the road?
- Gabrielle Nancarrow is an inhouse Content Producer at Lonely Planet
Labels: Croatia, Europe
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Posted Thursday, July 24, 2008, 11:26 PM by Lonely Planet
It's funny, the impressions a city will leave on you after you've gone. Take Paris. On my first visit in 2000, I fell madly in love with its abundant and much-feted charms, just like millions of tourists before me: the sublime architecture, the art, the Seine, the men (ooh la la!), le vin rouge, and the romantic glamour of it all. But one of my most enduring memories of that trip is something I'd never heard mentioned nor seen featured in any guidebook - and that was all the cool old Citroens everywhere.
The proud owner of a canary-yellow 2CV at the time, I went nuts, taking photos of my car's continental cousins with the snap-happy abandon that seizes other travellers when they see the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame. Vintage DSs, 2CVs, CXs - even this ancient van that looked uncannily like a corrugated-iron elephant (which I've since found out must've been an H Van) - gleaming against a picturesque Parisian backdrop...
But was it all a dream? Do we embellish our travel memories as the years pass? Because when I went back to Paris a few weeks ago, all I saw was one crappy, shabby 2CV!!
Believe me, I was on Citroen alert, having just bought my first digital camera and itching to immortalise the local four-wheeled population. But it seems that Minis (old and new) are the latest vehicle of choice on Paris streets these days. So I have to wonder: where did all those gorgeous old Citroens go? Have they gone to the great scrapheap in the sky, or has my unreliable travel memory simply exaggerated the true extent of their Parisian presence?
Hmph. At least the men were as handsome as I remembered them to be...
- Suzy Watusi
Labels: cars, France, Paris
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It's way too easy to get bogged down in the 9-to-5. Sometimes the routine can even infiltrate the precious weekend. Thing is, a solid recharge, a casting aside of the shackles, is often closer than you think. If you're lucky you can switch environments from office blah to country aah without cracking the hour. Kind of obvious, sure, but it never ceases to be a revelation to me. Last weekend an old buddy and I hit the mountains for two days of fresh air, fresh scones, open fires and flannelette pyjamas. I came home recharged and chirpy and feeling like all was well in my world.
It's smart to keep in mind that getting away is closer and easier than you may think - and hanging out with a B&B's resident Labrador is balm for the jangled soul.
- Dee Dee Luxe
Labels: relaxation
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Posted Monday, July 21, 2008, 5:10 PM by Lonely Planet
As an Australian I'm a constant disappointment to other travellers.
I don't follow AFL or cricket, have never been near a surfboard, and have a pathological fear of many things Australia is famous for - sharks, crocodiles, serial killers...
Worse still, I don't watch Neighbours.
During a brief stint working as a teacher in Scotland, my students were appalled to learn I didn't know who Natalie Imbruglia was ("but she was on Neighbours!").
After a trip to the Northern Territory my American friend laughed when I told her my constant fear of croc attacks had interfered with my enjoyment of the great outdoors. Apparently I am meant to embrace all the 'deadlies' my homeland has to offer.
"You are sooo not Australian!" she said. "Australians love to boast about cheating death!"
My idea of an outdoor adventure is an afternoon in a beer garden; I keep good company with my closest Parisian friend who drinks neither wine nor coffee, and hates small dogs.
Are you letting your country down? Travelled with someone who is? Turn them in to us.
- Louise Clarke is an inhouse Content Producer at Lonely Planet
Labels: Australia, wildlife
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Posted Thursday, July 17, 2008, 11:43 PM by Lonely Planet
I must admit I haven't been to many weddings, but having just attended two in successive weekends - both requiring interstate travel - I feel enlightened. Obviously it's something to do with being in your early 30s, but it seems quite a few of my oldest and best friends are tying the knot.
These two weddings were certainly less formal than I expected. The dress code for both was 'cocktail'. One of the invitations stated: 'Dress for a celebration! (No tie required)' - something most of the guys ignored and left me looking considerably underdressed (grey suit, black shirt, no tie - very Underbelly).
They are, however, fantastic celebrations - and the best reunion you could possibly hope for, especially if you live far away from where you grew up.
Ever travelled far from home for a friend or family member's big day? Would you recommend getting married in a foreign country? Share your happy wedding tales or horror stories!
Ash Deerfat
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Posted Tuesday, July 15, 2008, 4:22 PM by Lonely Planet
I want to confess something... I'm a travel junky. I can't live without the stuff.
I started young: the grand tour of Europe with my mum when I was seven. However, I quickly progressed to the harder stuff: backpacking, learning languages, living overseas... I even took to guidebook-writing to support my habit. But no matter how 'tough' and remote the destination, I could never shake the feeling that I was just a tourist. It all seemed too blithe. Too easy.
Then I had my epiphany. The problem was not the destination, it was the way I'd gotten there. Flying. Thanks to flight, there are few places you can't reach in 24 hours. Thanks to flight, modern travel is instant gratification; the consummation of desire without the dance of courtship. So I began to formulate a dream: to travel a long way, over land and sea, without the help of flight.
I'm thinking it will be time-consuming, expensive, full of frustration, boredom, occasional panic and a little serendipity. And I'm pretty sure it will be one of the most memorable trips of my life - at least as memorable as that first tour of Europe.
I'm interested to hear from anyone else who's shunned aeroplanes on a long-haul trip. When I Googled 'flightless travel', to my surprise the top-ranked site was that of my old mate and fellow Lonely Planet author Simon Sellars (love your work, Simon). Then I saw, quel coincidence, that Lonely Planet of all publishers has a new book due out next month: Flightless: Incredible journeys without leaving the ground.
So there you go peoples - I'm not very original, even around these parts. But am I at least part of a movement?
- Michael Day is a Lonely Planet author who is currently working inhouse
Labels: flightless travel, flights, plane travel, sustainable travel
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Posted Monday, July 14, 2008, 5:13 PM by Lonely Planet
When Australia had to take the capital out of the hands of feuding cities Melbourne and Sydney, it was the classic case of two petulant children fighting over something they both wanted.
And as often happens in this situation, neither got the reward.
Instead, Canberra was plucked out of sheep paddock obscurity, and bestowed the title of 'capital'.
To paraphrase some of the criticism about Australia's capital: Life is rarely seen on the symmetrical streets outside lunchtime hours. The tourist destinations have no true tourist appeal. It is a 'cemetery with lights'.
This is all a little harsh on poor Canberra. Once you get used to the lack of people and realise that there is not a revival of the black plague, it's actually quite refreshing to have so much space on your daily travels.
Not forgetting that this previously humble sheep farm is the cashmere knit of Australian artwork and historical artefacts. Its planned combinations of straight and curving streets boast the old and new Parliament Houses, the National Gallery and the National Museum of Australia.
Canberra treads the line between town and city, small yet urban - it lives up to its title of 'the compromise city'.
Love Canberra? Tell us about it. Hate Canberra? You can still tell us about it.
- Eloise Johnstone is an intern from Monash University. She's doing some work experience at Lonely Planet. She loves Canberra.Labels: Art, Canberra
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On the weekend I went camping in central Australia, about 3 hours out of Alice Springs.
Red road sunk in banks of sand and edged by avenues of red trees. Willi-willis (dust devils) whirling away to nothing in the blue skies. Wedge-tail eagles and kites high in the air.
We stopped three times: once to give some matches to some women from Yuendumu who were hunting goanna (huge lizards) in the scrub; once to haul a dead tree onto the top of the jeep for firewood; once to pull out another jeep bogged in sand. The two men had been practising for the Finke Desert Race and one had crashed his motorbike. They'd come out to examine the tire marks and analyse what went wrong.
So what did go wrong?
'I think I was goin' 50k too fast.'
The folk I was with were all hardened campers. They lent me a swag (best thing ever - like a sleeping bag with a bed in it) and majicked up a campfire dinner that began with baked ricotta and ended with poached pears.
The sky teemed with stars.
I'm a convert. Heading straight out to get my own swag - and learn how to poach pears.
Anyone got any great camping tips?
-Cherry Washington
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Posted Monday, July 07, 2008, 10:54 PM by Lonely Planet
Joining the workforce while on your travels can add a dimension beyond that of museums and beaches. You can befriend locals who think your accent is cool, or learn a language and enjoy the 'lost in translation' brand of jokes that flow fast and steady. It's a chance to earn some money, stay a little longer and get a sense of the locals' life.
In Tel-Aviv, Israel, I accidentally picked up some work translating defamatory comments for a renegade antique collector on his website, and then promptly changed career paths to become a florist. In Brooklyn, New York, I was one of six au pairs for a family of nine children, and in Hermanus, South Africa I dragged privileged teenagers from their tents for camp-fire songs, sometimes when they were sans mascara. In Tampa, Florida, I had a short stint at selling cosmetics from a little stall in the middle of a shopping- mall walkway and learnt that even though people move at an appallingly slow pace in malls, they are not necessarily interested in wrinkle-reducing eye creams.
There's a lot to learn out there.
- Jenni Kauppi
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Posted Sunday, July 06, 2008, 11:46 PM by Lonely Planet
If the thought of visiting a new city and getting shanghai'd onto an organised tour of lame, G-rated 'sights' illicits a jaw-breaking yawn, maybe you should set your sights lower. No, lower. Get down and dirty. Get in touch with your trashy side. There's all manner of ways to contact it. Go take a tour of Maui landfill. Take a polyester-clad ride around Nashville. Visit the sordid sights of celebrities brought undone with LA's Dearly Departed Tour. Don't worry, the dirt washes off eventually.
- Dee Dee Luxe
Labels: celebrity death, LA, Maui, Nashville
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Posted Wednesday, July 02, 2008, 8:48 PM by Lonely Planet
Everybody these days knows about Peak Oil. Even if they never heard the phrase, folks from Marseille to Malaysia know that it's getting damn expensive to fill the tank. But if you thought filling a car was costly (and General Motors knows all about it), how would you like to fill a plane? That's the reality that is making airline executives today wish they were on holiday.
According to the New York Times, the inexorable rise in the price of jet fuel is behind the biggest shake-up of the airline industry since 9-11. It is leading to route cuts and fare increases, bankruptcies and mergers the world over, and worse is forecast.
So...the big question for travellers: is this the end of cheap flights? And if so, what happens next? Will we see the return of sail? Or is it time to revive the romance of rail? (Cue plug for one of our favourite sites, The Man in Seat Sixty-One.)
What are your thoughts? What is the future of travel when the oil runs out?
Michael Day
Labels: budget flights, fuel prices, oil, petrol
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Posted Tuesday, July 01, 2008, 11:00 PM by Lonely Planet
The solo traveller is free to do what he likes. If you want to drink beer in the morning or eat pizza every day, no one's going to tell you off. If you want to walk 20km in the heat, because you can't be stuffed sorting out the bus route, there's no grumbling companion, dragging their heels in protest to bother you. And of course your memories are your own.
This is what I recall of my first day as a lone wolf, a stopover in Singapore en route to Bombay (Mumbai).
The humidity clinging to me like a warm, wet blanket as I left Changi airport's well-controlled climes and headed out into the green, clean streets of Singapore. Checking into my hotel room to find business cards offering 'special massages' and more exotically a note on the back of the door detailing the hotel-wide ban on durian, that stinky-sweet Asian treat. Humbly asking the bellhop where the train station was, only to be returned a blank, puzzled stare. A few more minutes of scrambling for every descriptive I could think of for, 'where the train is', and he realised I was referring to the MRT, Singapore's Mass Rapid Transit, AKA, the train station. My first experience of how annoying an acronym can be for a newcomer. Newton's Circus outdoor food court, where stall after stall offered glorious variations on the Asian staples of noodles and rice. I think I ate three lunches and drank an enormous fresh coconut. I didn't chew gum. Somebody put ice in my beer. I should have had a suit made for me by one of the countless Indian tailors, whose little shops studded the subterranean malls. The only person I saw who seemed to be stepping outside the established order was an old grandmother. With grandchild in tow, she was standing by a lychee tree in a park, knocking the fruit out of the tree with a stick.
I was young, single and could have told lies for days. I still hate acronyms and I look forward to knocking fruit out trees when I'm old.
Larry O'Leary
Labels: Singapore, solo travel
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