Following on from last week’s post about her recent adventures in Romania, Kathryn Bullock describes the second part of her recent trip and shares with us some of the highlights of the visit. After reading Kathryn’s account you might agree that Romania is worthy of a closer look.

Gura Raului near Sibiu

We were lucky enough to see the locals pouring out of the two beautiful churches in their traditional dress in the lovely village of Gura-Raului. This is one of the rare opportunities to see their costumes, apart from during funerals. The small church is said to have one of St George’s bones, as the local priest Peter proudly told us. We then visited the imposing castle of Hunedoara with its many towers. Many towns across Romania have castles and citadels perched on the steepest of hills which are well worth a visit for the views alone.

Surdesti, Maramureş

The minced pork wrapped in cabbage leaves served with a rich creamy tomato soup was a highlight of our stay at friendly Pensiunea Marmaru near the village of Surdesti. This area is famed for its beautiful wooden churches; don’t miss the one in this village. We were lucky enough to see inside and it’s very cosy with carpets everywhere and floor to ceiling medieval paintings. It’s a dreamy walk across the fields to get there from the Pensiunea.

Sighet and Săpânţa

We then headed north to see Maramures and visited the infamous Sighet prison where many famous Romanians died during the rule of the brutal communist regime from 1944-1989. For some light relief we later dropped in at the “happy cemetery” in Săpânţa, famous for its very colourful wooden graves complete with funny paintings and poems about the lives of the local people buried there.

Viseu de Sus

One of the highlights of the trip was the steam train ride from Viseu de Sus into the logging region near the Ukrainan border. It’s a great way to see beautiful forest and waterfalls and we finished up with a riverside BBQ prepared by the friendly, enterprising train guards, before a rumble back down to town by mid afternoon. The good news is that they’ve changed the departure time to a more tourist friendly 9am.

Braşov

Our next stop was Braşov for the Pageant of the Juni on the first Sunday of May when years ago the Romanians could freely enter the Saxon city. The men dress up in elaborate Juni costumes accompanied by brass bands. Somehow we got swept up in the crowds and never managed to find the procession. We still had a great day enjoying the city views from the top of the cable car, eating heavenly white chocolate cake and chatting to the locals over their great beer. One local guy had apparently watched eight hours of our royal wedding – it shows the popularity of our monarchy even in distant parts. Their King Mihai was forced to abdicate during the communist era and returned in 2001; he is now based at Elisabeta Palace in Bucharest.

Bran Castle

The more popular Bran Castle near Braşov is also billed as Dracula’s castle but has only tenuous links to the real Dracula “Vlad the Impaler”. It’s worth a visit and has a surprising homely feel about it, largely due to the finishing touches of the much loved Queen Marie, the grand daughter of our Queen Victoria who married Prince Ferdinand in 1893. I was reading her life story on the castle wall when I was asked to budge so a group of tourists could each take a photo of the story and rush on to their next landmark – definitely a new breed of express tourism.

Sighişoara

The finale of our trip was the most characterful and friendly town of Sighişoara. We stayed in the most palatial Pensiunea Phonix with an enormous room and charming host. It was great value and included a German style breakfast feast. The town has some lively bars and a music scene on the weekends and we saw an amazing trio called Highjack, who kept us dancing with the locals till the early hours.

Sinaia in Bucegi mountains

This was the least appealing place for us, full of enormous Soviet style package holiday hotels with little character. Our Pensiunea was friendly and cosy but we wished we had stayed in Busteni. This is a ski area and the views are meant to be stunning from the mountains which are accessible by cable car but this was the day the rain arrived somewhat marring our opinions. The town also boasts a monastery and the Peles castle which was unfortunately closed when we visited.

Snagov

Our last night at Lake Snagov about 20km from Bucharest airport was a lucky find as we bumped into a local shopkeeper who told us about Lake Snagov Pensiunea in Ciofliceni. It is right on the water’s edge and not to be found in any guide book. We had a room with a balcony to enjoy the sunset over the lake and the cacophony of frog and bird noises at night was magical. We could not believe we were in Europe as the sounds were so tropical in the thick blanket of fog which descended on the lake at night. The rooms could do with a makeover but it’s really worth staying there for the panoramic setting.

Romania is known as a bird watcher’s paradise because of the Danube Delta region on the Black Sea where more than 325 species can be found. We did not visit this area but have saved it for a future visit together with the painted monasteries of Bucovina in the Moldova border region. Don’t miss this lovely country.

Practical Tips

We spent about £30 a day each plus a return flight from London and car hire. I’m happy to share more practical tips if anyone is planning a trip. Do share your Romanian adventures so we can plan our return visit. Did we pick the best itinerary?

You see more of Kathryn’s pictures from Romania on her Flickr site.

Kathryn Bullock is a frequent traveller and a social media expert and entrepreneur who has worked in the travel industry for the past 25 years. She runs Face Marketing providing social media guidance and marketing to travel and financial service companies. She is also a regular blogger at Enterprise Britain.

A Romanian journey: castles, churches and a happy cemetery is a post from: 501 Places

In this week’s guest post Kathryn Bullock describes her recent experience of spending Easter in the lesser known parts of Romania. In fact I suspect all of Romania is unknown to the majority of travellers. After reading Kathryn’s account you might agree that it’s worthy of a closer look.

The 12 day break between Good Friday and the May bank holiday proved too tempting not to take a flight to somewhere different. I had never been to Romania so we settled on a flight via Amsterdam to Bucharest and were somewhat surprised to find we had this beautiful country to ourselves. It’s a forgotten part of Eastern Europe with some amazing medieval towns, ancient wooden churches and stunning green landscapes. This is a good time to visit as its ancient customs are changing fast. Where else in Europe can you still see 17^th century daily farm scenes with wooden ploughs and horse drawn carts?

Otopeni

We spent our first night in a gigantic room at Hotel Charter near the airport complete with balcony where we could hear the local stray dogs howling in unison; a common Romanian sound.

Curtea de Arges

We set off North East to Curtea de Arges in the region of Wallachia, famous for its colourful and atmospheric Orthodox church. Romania has a devout Orthodox Christian population so many of the locals were armed with candles and flowers heading off to mass. It’s a tradition to hang branches outside your home and decorate boiled eggs at Easter which you crack together chanting “Christ has Risen”.  One of the strangest sights we saw in the church was of elderly people scrambling on all fours under a table to pay their respects with candle in hand. A local priest enlightened us to the significance of this act as it was a Good Friday tradition to emulate climbing out of the tomb.

Poienari Castle

Following the most amazing breakfast feast at friendly Pension Ruxi we headed for Poienari Castle, the real home of Vlad the Impaler otherwise known at Dracula. It’s a tough climb skywards for 1400 steps and the views from the top were worth the climb but there’s not much of the castle left. Romania has a fascinating and gory history as Vlad was a bit of a sadist and enjoyed impaling his victims on stakes and leaving them to die.

Călimăneşti

We crossed into Transylvania and stopped off at this spa town and stayed at the decayed but characterful Hotel Centrale. It reminded me of a French Chateau. The place is enormous but we had the place to ourselves and the hotel café was a great spot to watch the world go by.

Finding dinner was a challenge as eating out has not yet gone mainstream outside of the large towns. We finally found a motel with a lively local gypsy band and a fried chicken dinner.  Romania was a bit of a culinary challenge and is not yet ready for “foodies”, although pizza and pasta were fortunately in plentiful supply.

Boita

A highlight of our stay was a delicious Easter lunch with roasted lamb, care of the very generous priest called Alexendru and his family in Boita. The meal was of special significance as the family had been fasting for Lent and it was the first meat and dairy they had enjoyed for a while. The meal was washed down with our new friend’s delicious pear schnaps, distilled in the village. The Boita church is not to be missed as it has beautiful paintings.

The local brew

The Romanian beer, largely brewed by South African Breweries is definitely a national treasure and very tasty. Every shop is packed with the largest bottles of beer I’ve ever seen – 2.5 litres of beer for the princely sum of £1.20. I can see Romania becoming a very popular stag party venue although don’t expect the beer to always come cold. Many shops and restaurants use their fridges like cupboards and they were very rarely turned on.

Sibiu

Our next stop was the lovely Saxon town of Sibiu with its beautifully preserved buildings and main square. The town is run by a German and the local economy is doing well. Romania suffers from a history of corruption which may delay its full entry into the EU, but it has some of the healthiest economic forecasts. The local currency is still the Lei which makes for a bargain trip. Don’t miss the huge, open air Sibiu museum which features buildings from all over the country, reconstructed in a leafy park with a lake offering open air concerts in the summer.

Sibiel

We were unable to stay at our first choice of Pensiunea La Llana run by a local priest Peter who speaks great English, but enjoyed the delicious homemade dishes in their restaurant, specially prepared for Easter. Apparently Good Friday is a holiday there to allow women time to prepare all the special Easter food. We met some interesting natives on holiday from Bucharest who were less than impressed with the level of hotel service they had received whilst on business in the UK, suggesting we have much to learn from the Romanian work ethic.

Look out next week for the second part of Kathryn’s Romanian adventures. In the meantime you see more of Kathryn’s pictures from Romania on her Flickr site.

Kathryn Bullock is a frequent traveller and a social media expert and entrepreneur who has worked in the travel industry for the past 25 years. She runs Face Marketing providing social media guidance and marketing to travel and financial service companies. She is also a regular blogger at Enterprise Britain.

A journey through Romania: Europe’s forgotten corner is a post from: 501 Places

The Silk Road. Perhaps the most evocative of all great overland travel journeys. Yet, in 2011, are these words anything more than a cheap travel marketing tool? I have taken guests to destinations all along “The Silk Road” and recently I was beginning to think that the name was sounding just a little cliched. Last week I packaged our winter Afghan ski and climbing trips as “A journey along the White Silk Road”.

It is a thousand years since major trade passed from East to West via Central Asia and 140 years since the German, Ferdinand von Richtofen, coined the phrase “Silk Road”.

I mean, who really uses the silk road today? It’s not a trading route any more. It’s long stopped being the path for goods travelling to the West from the East via the mountains and deserts of Central Asia. The famous route that saw  not only silk but paper, tulips and even Rhubarb established in Europe. Sure Ughyer drivers ply the route between Osh and Kashgar and Chinese trucks fly down the Karakorum Highway; but spend a day at Rotterdam, Hong Kong or Singapore and you’ll realise that this trade is but a dribble. An afternoon spent at Port Said, Suez or by the Panama canal quickly cements how world trade is run and it ain’t through Central Asia.

So my question is: what is the silk route nowadays except a way for travel agents to romanticise the ruins of ex-soviet republics and the lands of Turko-Persia? Take an image of a wizened Uzbek man in embroidered  skull cap, mix with some turquoise Timurid tiles and add a dash of Bactrian camel and you’ve got yourself a Silk Route tour brochure. I should know, I’ve made a few!!!

But don’t go away. This is not a cynical piece, honest.

Whilst we were designing some “White Silk Road” trips I mentioned my jaundiced thoughts to a colleague and he said that I was talking rubbish. He told me that there is a group of people who do still ply the whole length of the silk route. From the ruined Greco-Roman pillars of Palmyra to Terracotta Warriors of Xi’an and beyond. They travel further than any Sogdian trader, further than Xuan Zang, sometimes cover even greater distances than Marco Polo. Like their predecessors, they brave politically unstable regions, have to fight, bargain and pay for passage through nation states. They suffer hardships but receive great rewards. They are of course the very people who the lure of the Silk Road attracts; the independent traveller.

You may think this analogy absurd but the more we discussed it, the more the parallel seemed to hold. Even today a trip from the Med to China takes some doing. Coming from Europe, Russia, the Caucasus or Iran are the easy bit. It is the heart of Central Asia that is the challenge. Do you run the gauntlet of Baluchistan, battle the paperwork of Turkmenistan or for the intrepid few face the awesome prospect of independent travel in Afghanistan?

The Bactrian Camel has given way to the train and bus but many bring their own transport, some four wheel, some two wheel. Occasionally people walk the route, ride horses or lead their donkeys. It is not trade and money that leads them this way but the search for experiences, challenges and adventures that are fast disappearing from much of the well worn routes of the rest of Asia.

Like in the chaikhanas and caravanserais of the heyday of the Silk Road rumour is always rife in today’s guesthouses. Talk is of letters of introduction for Iran, visas on arrival in Sost, whether the Khyber Pass is open, how to get the elusive Turkmenistan transit visa and where to get a copy of the timetable for the ferry from Baku to Aqtau?

Travellers really do walk in, brushing off the dust of the road and before they get their lips around a cup of tea are being interrogated about the road, embassies and borders ahead.

In the past the great desert Khanates were the safe havens where weary travellers and traders could rest up and get news of the route ahead. Nowadays it is the traveller hotspots like The Regale in Lahore, The Rose in Peshawar, The Madina in Gilgit. The Chini Bagh in Kashgar and the Baihualin in Urumqi. The Silk Road in Yazd and the Nomads Home in Bishkek. The list goes on but not for too long. You see the joy of the new Silk Road is that there are not hoards of backpackers with identikit guest-houses in each town. These oases where you can escape from the rigours of the road and get news of the way ahead are the exception not the rule. They are places of refuge where people knock before coming in your room, where your passport is not checked three times a day by a myriad of police and where sheets are changed if not daily then at on some sort of schedule.

The Silk Road really is no more and although you’ll find a Jipek Jolu in Bishkek and a Rah e Abrisham* in Yazd they are not The Silk Road. That way of life died a long, long time ago but the mountains, deserts and rivers are still there. The challenge still exists and in a back corner of Osh or Kokhand or Balkh you might just catch a glimpse of it.

*Turkic and Persian for Silk Road.

James Willcox is MD of Untamed Borders a company who specialise in some of the wild parts of the Silk Road. When not running Untamed Borders he is a big promoter of Independent travel and quite cynical about the tourism industry.

The Silk Road: marketing spin or classic adventure? is a post from: 501 Places

He set up the charity to help those families who were uprooted from their Polish homeland by the two world wars in the mass deportations across Belarus, Kazakhstan, Russia and Ukraine. Thousands were left behind and still face hardships to this day, serving as a living legacy to the brutality of Stalin’s regime.

Here, Jerry tells us of a visit to the tiny Kazakh settlement of Shizhaga.

Road to Nowhere

Nobody in the minibus understood Russian except for the driver and a young woman sitting up front – hopefully I will get a chance to ask her a few questions when we arrive. Forty minutes later the minibus comes to a stop and the twelve passengers get out, but by the time I hoist my rucksack onto my back, they have all disappeared – where? I am left with the driver and he is in a hurry to go. How do I get back to Aralsk? Is there a café, a bar perhaps? No, no! But he will be going back to Aralsk at 14.00 hrs – that’s three hours from now – and to pass the time away, perhaps I would like to go to the cemetery up there… He’s gone in an instant.

I look around: not a living soul in sight, no animals; nothing moves; only sand under my feet and dwellings with few trees and shrubbery in between. The sun is already high up; the air is still, it’s hot although it’s only the second week of May …Three hours!

At Peace

So I follow the desert track to the cemetery; it’s there, on raised ground about a kilometre away. Around me to the left and right there’s nothing except uneven desert terrain sparsely covered with grass. There, to my left, is a gap in the enclosure and, as I walk amongst the graves I am strangely aware that all worries have left me; I am at peace with myself and with the world – to whomever it belongs… The Muslim dead must be at peace too, they still have their little walled residence on this earth, some have a tomb or even a dome inside, others lie simply and peacefully below ground. They can look down towards their village; they can see their home and, in their own way, communicate with their dearest – they are with Allah.

I could spend a night here, at peace, without fear. And in a Christian cemetery? From early childhood to adulthood we fear ghosts, evil spirits, hell, purgatory – how difficult it is to get a place at our God’s table – for us, sinners.

True to the Muslim tradition all graves are heading north-east so that the dead, when placed on their right shoulder, face south-west, towards Mecca. The long line of graves is only three deep and the wind has taken its toll: many of the timber enclosures have been knocked down, some completely destroyed, but even the more ambitious graves are crumbling through erosion and the effect of salt on mortar; sand is gradually encroaching on them all. But it’s quiet at the moment – “dead quiet” – and it would seem that nothing could live in this salt-laden sand, and yet, almost right under my foot a fragile little yellow flower, and just a step or two further, a solitary pale blue desert iris and, there again, a clump of withered grass and within it a family of delicate iris!

The ground behind the cemetery slopes towards a small salt-lake, its crust glistening white in the sun, and opens onto an infinite horizon. As I stand there mesmerized by infinity, a sudden gust of wind from the south-east blows in my face. The world around me changes instantly as the wind skims the surface of the dead-lake and blows a white cloud of fine salt streaming towards the cemetery.

Back in the cemetery, I take shelter behind one of the graves with a fine view of the village below.  It’s peaceful and contemplative at the moment… silence, emptiness, my boots white from salt. And when it seems there is nothing but the dead for company here, a horse, somewhere to my right, neighs! Perhaps a live visitor is a rare event here for a moment later, a solitary small yellow butterfly flutters round my head and leaves; a fly settles on my knee but, evidently, my sweat, to which I am getting quite used to in this heat, is not to its taste for it also flies away… and I didn’t have the heart to swat this solitary sentinel of the cemetery.

A horse somewhere close by neighs again and suddenly there’s action in the village. Horses appear as if from under the sand and gather at the foot of a large lake by the village. Their numbers escalate; a horseman appears and, as one, they move towards the village. An amazing scenario – I am watching it with interest – but before I can focus my camera on the rider, the wind suddenly picks up and blows in strong gusts from behind the cemetery; a cloud of salt dust sweep over the cemetery towards the village and instantly the rider, the horses and the entire village is obliterated from my view! Vanished in a white cloud of salt!

The wind dies down, the salt cloud settles but the horses and the rider have gone – a mirage perhaps? Gusts of wind become more frequent and stronger. Horses knew, the rider knew what to expect in this desert at around noon in mid-May and horse-sense tells me too that it’s time for me to seek shelter in the village rather than here, amongst the dead.

With my hat pulled down hard and fastened under my chin I make my way towards the village… somewhere there… in that direction… I can feel my windcheater stiffening from salt forced into its texture.

Kazakh Hospitality

The village is deserted and shrouded in murky air so I shelter from the wind and salt behind a wall of the first house I come across and resign myself to whiling away the remaining two hours sitting on some disused machinery. But I am not the only one with good “horse-sense”  for on sand dunes to my right, three camels are racing towards the village; one in particular is anxious and soon leaves the other two behind in the race for shelter.

A young Kazakh man comes up to my perch and sits next to me – saying nothing. I try Russian on him but he doesn’t speak the language, so we sit like this for a little while, “incommunicado”, wondering who is who, or what.

A little later a car pulls up to the entrance of the walled-in house and yard; my young man hops off our perch to talk to the driver who gives me a look of curiosity and, before I could ask him if, perhaps, he is going to Aralsk, he drives off. The young man disappears in the house and, a little later, reappears and beckons me in. Ah, Kazakh hospitality – how could they let a foreign visitor just sit on their doorstep! I am invited into the house to share their meal.

Happily, I remember to take off my boots and wash my hands in the bowl by the door, and we enter… The floor and walls are covered with colourful carpets and my hosts are reclining so low on the floor that they are almost not noticeable at first! The man lying on his back on the carpet by the table tries to raise himself a little – obviously very old, or sick – and an equally old woman is sitting cross-legged at one end of the table.

The table, covered with a white cloth, is not more than one foot off the floor; a large dish heaped with large-grain rice and meat stands in the centre and three large aluminium spoons are stuck in the rice; a variety of sweet morsels are heaped in a dish next to it. The young man takes one spoon, “demarcates” a portion of rice and gestures to me to eat. He can see that I don’t really know how to go about eating so he runs off and comes back with a small plate which he places in front of me.

Meanwhile the old man raises himself onto one shoulder, takes one large spoonful of rice and meat, eats from it, then replaces the spoon in the rice on the common serving plate; the woman follows suit; the boy sits on a stool and attentively watches (me).

Changing Lives

What a wonderful opportunity to learn a little about their customs and their life. This old man may well remember the days back in the 1940’s when the Kazakhs were forced by the Soviets to abandon their nomadic ways for a life in kolkhoz; perhaps he could tell me about those tragic early years when his father and other Kazakhs in the community had slaughtered, in their own yards, all their cattle rather give it to the kolkhoz. Regrettably they don’t speak Russian – I don’t speak Kazakh. In sign language I tell the young man that I am seventy. How old is the old man? Seventy also; how old is he?Eighteen. So we can communicate.

Before starting on the next chapter of our “conversation” I happen to glance at the clock on the wall and, with a shock, I see it is one hour ahead of my time – here in Aralsk, we are on Astana time! It’s time for me to run for the minibus to take me back to Aralsk! The boy nods with his head – yes it is! I thank my hosts as best I know – perhaps I could take a photograph of them? The old man, with great difficulty, raises himself to a sitting position and I can see a flicker of a proud and delighted smile on his face; the Kazakh woman sits upright, the boy joins them – a snapshot of Kazakh life.

We can see the black minibus in the distance; the boy waves to it – what a relief! The only obstacle is the camel sitting in the middle of our way and HE is not going to move for the likes of me and a “boy” and spits at me in disdain! And here’s another obstacle in our way – two men supporting a third man between them; red, happy, smiling, friendly faces, wobbly legs from early drinking… take our photograph too! A black cow stands motionless high up on a pile of timber and stares into the desert – has she lost a calf perhaps?

Three little boys, perhaps two-three years old, have just come out onto the road and settle down to play in the sand – our little boys play in sand pits, or in the sand on the beach by the sea; here they play in the sand on their own doorstep; will they ever see the Aral, or any sea? Two lean, big-horn cattle watch us sleepily from the shade under a tree…

My minibus driver is trying to be helpful: all Kazakhs live in villages now, in houses like these. What do they do for a living? No, this is not a kolkhoz any longer; they have horses, cattle, sheep, camels… No, they don’t live in yurts any longer except when they take cattle way out to pasture, then they will put up yurts for themselves – but it’s too early in the year for that…

About the Author

Jerry was born in Poland but grew up in and grew old in England. He says of his work with Our Roots Trust, “I am a fortunate man for, in between, I had a good life in the UK, the USA and France, but I lost my roots. So what shall I tell my children and their children? And so my search began in this big, beautiful and brutal world.”

How You Can Help

Visit the Our Roots Trust site to read more about the great work already being done and the projects planned for the future.

If you wish to make a small PayPal donation to Our Roots Trust please choose an amount and click the Donate button below. Even a small amount will be of great value to its recipients.

(In the interests of full disclosure, I should state that I am also a trustee of Our Roots Trust. Andy)

Killing time: Shizhaga, Kazakhstan is a post from: 501 Places

Having reached ABC we opted to trek back down for lunch and continue down to Himalaya camp. The prospect of another sleepless night at subzero temperatures did not appeal as the altitude does affect your sleeping pattern. Your breath condenses on your sleeping bag and you curve the sleeping bag around your head.  You know any exposed body part could freeze with everything else in the room if you leave it exposed.

As we descended the mountain we were able to thoroughly defrost and Pokhara felt almost tropical after the frozen peaks.  We were then able to enjoy some creature comforts and catch up with friends in Kathmandu. Some of the highlights of the trip were:

1. The hot springs near Ginou village - A scenic tranquil spot on the river bank complete with changing rooms where you can soak your tired limbs, not to be missed.

2. Rhodedendron forests between Tadapani and Ghorepani and views from Chiule.

3. Black faced langur monkeys – watching them leap around the bamboo forests near the aptly named Bamboo camp.

4. Views from Gurung Hill – just outside Deurali and worth the short 15 min scramble up the icy path to enjoy it from the very rickety platform.

5. Views of the mountains at sunset from the Hungry Eye Guesthouse in pretty village of Landruk.

6. Sunset views of the mountains from Tadapani as they glow pink

7. The luxurious beds, hot showers and very friendly welcome from

Michelle and Pujan at the Courtyard Hotel in Kathmandu (PS – they didn’t pay me to say that)

8. Dancing to my favourite blues band Ashesh and Nekhvam at the Everest Irish Bar in Kathmandu – don’t miss them… more about the Kathmandu music scene in another post soon.

I’m sure I shall be returning to enjoy the warmth and friendly hospitality of the Nepali people. For those of you trying to decide which trek to do I recommend that you plan carefully before starting on the ABC trek.

This is Visit Nepal 2011 year and the country needs your visit.  The local guides said that although they have seen an increase in visitors from South Korea, they have noticed a recent decline in young trekkers due to the economic fall out across the West.

So what is not cool?

I was shocked to meet trekkers who had set off without a guide or any warm clothes or proper walking boots. The weather can change very fast with snow hiding the trail at the top and you need to have the right gear. Please see my recommended packing list for trekking.

One sight I hope will disappear from Nepal is that of the porters carrying heavy loads of 40-50 kg. They are are clearly being exploited by the large trekking companies, whose logos are emblazoned over the huge packs which tower over them. This practice exploits some of the most vulnerable Nepalis who are often not equipped with the right footwear or warm clothing for the altitude.

The porter who sits by the bridge outside Tolka who lost both his feet from frostbite is testament to the blatant disregard for porter welfare, as they can suffer from Altitude Mountain Sickness (AMS) and the cold like the rest of us. There is now a clothing bank that has been set up for porters in Pokhara where they can borrow clothing for a small fee of 15 rupees and Guru at Jomson Treks can direct any trekkers wanting to donate clothes to it.

When deciding on a trekking company, ask them about their porter policy and choose those that do not make their porters carry more than 15kg for a teahouse trek or 25kg for a camping trek, which are the standards set in Pokhara. Give your business to those companies that behave ethically.

Please share any stories you have about how porters have been treated on treks you have taken whether that’s in Peru, Kenya, or any other trekking region.

What do you think we could do to stop the exploitation of porters by the large trekking companies? Should we start to name and shame, or would it be more powerful to encourage everyone to only choose companies that have the policy set above? If you have any pictures of porters carrying too much send them in and we can help to build awareness of this issue.

Some of you may argue that it would make trekking too expensive. However, given that the small local companies are able to abide by the regulations without costing trekkers more, I can only assume the practice is there to boost profit margins.

Nepal is one of the most rewarding countries you can ever visit and the warmth of the Namaste welcome is legendary. We met several travellers who had been too long in India who were weary and wary and found Nepal such a hassle free joy to visit in comparison. I hope Nepal becomes your spiritual home like mine. Enjoy and do share your trekking stories here!

See all the pictures of the places described above and more in Nepal

Kathryn Bullock is a frequent traveller and a social media expert and entrepreneur who has worked in the travel industry for the past 25 years. She runs Face Marketing providing social media guidance and marketing to travel and financial service companies; read her Face Marketing blog.  She is also a regular blogger at Enterprise Britain.

The ABC of trekking – what is and what’s not cool is a post from: 501 Places

For anyone planning to do some trekking in Nepal, Annapurna Base Camp (or ABC as it’s known locally) is a prime target destination nestled in a bowl at the base of the Annapurna South mountain. Having done the 6 day Ghorepani, Poon Hill, Chhomrong circuit trek last year and tested my trekking legs, I was tempted to try something a bit more adventurous this year. ABC is at 4130 metres which might not sound that high to a seasoned mountaineer. However when you’ve climbed over thousands of stone steps and tree roots and are not in the greatest shape, it was a challenge to get there in the snow blizzard that greeted us that day.

For this trip I persuaded two friends Alan and Diane to join me and found a Jet Airways flight via Delhi which worked out better than a long stopover in the Middle East taken the previous year. I had bought the maps on my way home at Kathmandu airport knowing that Nepal was about to become my spiritual home.

I decided to hire my guide Dal from last year because he’s so experienced and easy to get along with and booked our trek with Guru at Jomsom Treks in Pokhara. We ended up with Kalimbu and Gan who were also our guides and porters and who both turned out to be a real whizz at cards. In our evening card tournaments the Nepali team reigned as supreme champions.

We chose the following itinerary which I’d highly recommend with perhaps an additional night in Hille or Tikhedhungga on the way down from Ghorepani.

Day 1    Phedi – Pothana

Day 2    Pothana – Landruk

Day 3    Landruk – Chhomrong

Day 4    Chomrung – Dobhan

Day 5    Dobhan – Machhapuchhre Base Camp (MBC)

Day 6    MBC – Annapurna Base Camp (ABC) – Himalaya

Day 7    Himalaya – Chhomrong

Day 8    Chomrung – Tadapani

Day 9    Tadapani – Ghorepani

Day 10  Ghorepani – Nayapul

The trek started at a gentle pace and the guest houses are initially quite comfortable. However the higher you climb the more basic they become and later on they lack even a shower with a toilet floor that freezes over and becomes a lethal skating rink. I very nearly ended up breaking my neck whilst trying to position my boots over the Asian squat-styled toilet. This trek is not for those that can’t live without all their creature comforts. Not that you’d want to be showering at -15C as all you want to do is to keep warm and stay in your sleeping bag as long as possible.

Fortunately for a small charge most guest houses near base camp will offer to provide a kerosene stove which they put under the table and you all sit with your legs shrouded in blankets which are taped around the table edge to contain the heat. Perfect for a roasted bottom half and a draughty back so make sure you have some good thermals. The guest houses above 2000m are not allowed to burn wood or sell bottled water as the deforestation and litter is a problem across the region.

We were lucky with the weather and enjoyed spectacular mountain views every day except for our trek from Machhapuchhre Base Camp (MBC) to Annapurna Base Camp. I felt like a true explorer as we trudged through the thick snow with our trekking poles. We were the only tourists at the top and enjoyed a cup of tea in the guest house dining room whilst reading all the captions around the trekker photos plastered around the walls.

Please read my next blog about the journey down from ABC, the trek highlights and some controversial sights which I hope you will comment on and share any similar experiences… watch this space.  We’d love to hear about your trekking experiences, any favourite spots in the Himalayas? I want to plan my next trek so I’m all ears.

See all the pictures on the places described above and more in Nepal

Kathryn Bullock is a frequent traveller and a social media expert and entrepreneur who has worked in the travel industry for the past 25 years. She runs Face Marketing providing social media guidance and marketing to travel and financial service companies. She is also a regular blogger at Enterprise Britain.

The ABC guide to trekking in Nepal – part 1 is a post from: 501 Places

Looking into a corrugated iron shack the size of a camper van, it was hard to believe a family of six lived here. There was barely a foot of a space between the end of the one double bed, and the small table for cooking with its single gas burner.

I felt both humble and ashamedly voyeuristic taking photographs inside the home of this Soweto family, and yet they were happy to oblige and let us learn about their life, as part of the township tour I was on.

To describe a tour of Soweto as an eye-opener is an understatement – but to leave it out of a visit to Johannesburg and Gauteng is ignoring what life is truly like for a massive proportion of black South Africans.

Soweto – standing for SOuth WEstern TOwnship – is one of the many townships in which black South Africans were housed in the period of apartheid, and where millions of people still live in abject poverty. Soweto is entrenched in South Africa’s history like no other.

20 miles from Johannesburg, an estimated 4 million people live in Soweto, while the ‘official figure’ is 1.3 million. The sights are rich and plentiful, although I was fighting back the tears on several occasions while visiting them.

Soweto’s Vilakazi Street is the only street in the world which has the homes of two Nobel Peace Prize winners. Here sits Nelson Mandela’s former home, which is now a museum, and Desmond Tutu’s house.

Close by, there is the site where 13 year-old Hector Pieterson was shot dead when police open fired into the street on 16 June 1976. This occurred during the student uprising, where school children had begun protesting about their lack of educational facilities.

When I thought about this poor young boy and his senseless death wandering the memorial and museum dedicated in his name, I felt the hotness on my cheeks as I cried. Soweto has a way of moving you like this.

Contrary to what you may think though, there is a substantial amount of affluent housing in the township, where many high-profile residents live, including Winnie Mandela. However, when you see the squatter camps, your poverty-gripes back at home will soon be put into perspective.

The shanty town is grossly overcrowded; people share block toilets and families of eight may live with no amenities under one tin or plastic-sheeted shack the size of a garden shed. Barbed wire and chicken wire fence off rusting, leaking homes, while ‘roofs’ are held up on rotting wooden posts.

Speaking to families who have to share one ‘portaloo’ with twenty other families, suddenly my terraced home back in Manchester, with ‘only’ a backyard, seemed like a palace.

But for all the deprivation and violent history Soweto has, there is a real welcoming buzz and vibrancy to the area. Yes, it is crime-ridden, dirty and at the grossly extreme end of poor, but when it was time to leave, I wished I’d had longer to get to know the township.

Don’t listen to anyone who tells you not to come.

How to see Soweto

A few streets are safe to visit alone in the day, but an organised tour is really the recommended way to see Soweto. I went with Fhulufhelo Tours and was charmed by the knowledge of tour manager Elvis.

Some tips for visiting a township:

1. Do take enough money for tipping. You’ll likely get taken around the shanty town by a local rather than your main guide, and tips may be his or her only income. Also tip families when you take pictures in their homes or of them.
2. Buy souvenirs. At the end of your shanty town tour, locals will set up make-shift stalls with goods on them. Buy a couple of things, even if you don’t want them. Again, these people rely on that income.
3. Don’t be afraid to interact with the locals! Townships have a reputation for being dangerous and crime-ridden, for sure, but you will be surprised of how welcoming the people are. And you’ll be safe with your tour group, guide and the locals who are showing you around.

Andrea Wren is a freelance journalist and travel writer based in Greater Manchester, UK. She writes for UK national media such as the Guardian and Wanderlust, but started her travel blog Travelling Wren to share her travel experiences as a woman. Andrea also writes for the website TheTravelEditor.com. You can find her on Twitter: @andrea_wren.

Opening my eyes to South Africa through Soweto is a post from: 501 Places

When you mention Colombia many people think of drug barons, crime and guerrilla activity. However I’d like to dispel some myths following a highly enjoyable five week Christmas jaunt around the Colombian mountains. I can understand why Lonely Planet features it as a great place to visit. I have never been so warmly greeted by the locals with a “welcome to my country.”

Colombia has an amazingly mountainous terrain and you start to appreciate this when you land in Bogota and find yourself at the giddy height of 2800 metres. At first it’s hard to believe you are so close to the equator as the chilly night air descends.

The country is lined from north to south with two mountain ranges which means that one day you can be sweating it out on the plains of Los Llanos where the cowboys try their skill at catching the bull’s tail in their popular sport of Coleo. The next day you can be taking in the views from a mountain lake, tucked up behind the pretty town of Mongui at a breathtaking 4000 metres and catching your breath to get there. To get this into perspective the altitude of the Annapurna base camp in the Himalayas is not much higher.

We set off for Bogota between London’s snow storms on December 9^th 2010 and only later appreciated our luck as we read about immobilised planes at Heathrow just before Christmas. Despite a two hour delay at Bogota airport we finally made it into the city after an exhausting journey via Miami. It was a miracle we made it at all as we didn’t have the necessary US visa for our 2 hour Miami transfer and it was a frantic filing of our US visas at Heathrow’s internet cafe that saved the day.

We had decided to stay in the charming old colonial area of Bogota called La Candelaria, which turned out to be a quiet area but a little too deserted after 9pm to be very safe.  It’s also close to the hill of Montserrate where you can get an amazing view of the city after climbing up in the funicular train. We whizzed across the city in a super fast taxi and arrived at our very quaint guest house complete with courtyard and huge fireplace. It was a shame the place did not have heating but this is the norm in this part of the world so lots of layers are a good policy when it comes to packing.

We had loosely planned a 5 week itinerary to take in the mountains, plains and the Caribbean coast.  However even the best laid plans can fall apart. We discovered a few days into the trip that the worst floods and landslides in 40 years had completely cut the country in two, killed 250 people and left 2 million homeless. The only way north was to fly although some roads have now reopened.

We had hired a car but following a rather unfortunate collision with a motorcyclist in the mud we were forced to turn back, retrace our steps and completely change our trip. We opted instead to stay in the mountains and explore the “Coffee Triangle” which is where some of the world’s best coffee is grown. To say the place was scenic would be an understatement; we enjoyed miles of green hilly panoramic vistas and relaxed in the gardens of our friendly fincas (farms).

Needless to say we have been waxing lyrical ever since returning not only about the great coffee, but the friendliness of the people that we were lucky enough to meet. Now I can completely understand why Lonely Planet claims it has some of the happiest souls on the planet.

Here are the highlights and best memories:

Christmas is fiesta time and most towns have processions, live music, fiestas and the most imaginative display of Christmas lights I’ve ever seen.

Bogota – gold museum with the best interpretation and display, and Monserrate views

Zipaquira – underground cathedral made of salt. Don’t miss the tour of the mine and the mini dynamite explosion

Villa de Leyva – boasting the largest plaza in Colombia to hang out and watch the locals

Barichara – a dreamy colonial town used in many film sets. A must see with the famous scenic El Camino Real walk to Guane which has been followed for centuries

El Cocuy – beautiful colonial town with great high altitude walking in the nearby national park

Mongui – the most scenic and friendly mountain town at 3,000m with nativity play and Christmas fiesta in the main plaza

Manizales – the cheapest cable car ride ever with great city views

Staying on a coffee farm near Periera and watching coffee made at Villa Martha

Salento – lively town with a great spot for watching sunsets and wonderful walks

Cali – don’t miss the 1km of Christmas illuminations featuring every known creature in coloured lights, the December Carnival and the friendly Pension Stein

Popayan – lively colonial town with water and flour throwing fiesta – wear old clothes!

San Agustin – horseriding, hiking, scenic ruins, fresh sugar cane juice and empanadas and hanging out in a hammock

Tunja – a bustling town with a lively cafe culture, a great Christmas fiesta and lots of historic buildings dating back centuries

I’m happy to answer any questions on this trip and share top tips on places to stay for those interested. For more photos click here.

Kathryn Bullock is a frequent traveller and an ecommerce expert and entrepreneur who has worked in the travel industry for the past 25 years. She is now working on a new business venture in social media for travel and is a regular blogger for business owners at:  www.enterprisebritain.com and her blogs can be found at http://anothereb.blogspot.com/

Why Colombia is one of the happiest places on the planet is a post from: 501 Places

In e-commerce, content is indisputably king, yet content creators and businesses seem to fail so miserably at  getting along. There are exceptions and this certainly isn’t a new topic but largely, it remains a fascinating unsolved opportunity. I’ve read some posts on this from the blogger’s point of view (I’d like to point you to pieces by Gary Arndt, Lara from Grantourismo and Andy on this very blog if you are interested in some back reading), but would love to add my two cents worth from the other side of the fence.

In theory travel writing and content production should be booming. Original quality content is the only way an ecommerce site can compete in the Google rankings nowadays. For example, every single seller of travel has to publish their own original content online if they hope to stand half a chance of competing. Whereas in the past, hotel descriptions would be identical no matter which brochure you picked up, in the world of the web, you simply have to go unique to compete. Not only that, but good content can also increase a site’s authority with Google too. Pretty much the only reliable low budget way to increase your authority in the Google search engine results pages (SERPS) is by creating noteworthy content either as guest posts on other sites, or published on your own site to attract tweets, shares and links.

Undoubtedly, all consumer facing travel businesses are now compelled to become content publishers. This point was made best by Natalie Massenet from Net-a-Porter, the incredibly successful online fashion retailer, who put it so eloquently “My goal was always to be editor in chief of a magazine, and I feel I have achieved that, only it’s also a magazine you can shop”. E-commerce sites are fast becoming content publishers with a slick commerce back end.

From my perspective people seem to approach the problem from the wrong angle. They ask how can a company promote itself on a blog and reach the bloggers audience. The big debate has always been about how a travel blog can make money from relationships with travel companies and my conclusion is that it can’t. First things first, eyeballs count not one jot online. If you have over 100,000 monthly uniques but they are coming only to look at photos and populist general travel content then those 100,000 eyeballs are going to be worth peanuts, literally. Anyone planning to build a revenue generating audience through travel blogging alone has chosen a difficult path. That isn’t to say that building an audience for a travel blog and using it to promote a travel business isn’t possible, but that is a whole other ball game requiring a business plan and a lot of determination.

So I return to the concept of a travel blog not making money. That was a deliberately exact statement, because although I don’t believe a travel blog can make money, I’m confident a good travel writer or blogger can. This is where I see the real opportunity.  It isn’t about promoting brands on your blog, or selling links, it’s about using your skills as content producers and content marketers to best effect. You are not selling your audience, you are selling your skills.

How can travel bloggers and travel businesses work together then?

With my business hat on, I generally commission content to serve one or more of three core objectives. It should either (1) increase my sites authority (with Google), (2) directly rank well for money keywords or (3) convert customers that are already on my site. There seems to be loads of room for innovation in all three cases:

1. The travel writer / blogger as ‘link builder’ (or ‘authority booster’) for a travel company

Link building used to be a fairly formulaic game that could be outsourced to India. Nowadays if you listen to the experts it is all about creating content that people naturally want to link to, e.g. authoritative content on a particular subject area, or bite size linkbait that titillates visitors and is inherently shareable. The concept of a link has changed too. Google now looks at tweets and Facebook ‘likes’ as a ranking signal, so lots of RTs of a piece of content on your site will increase your authority with Google.

Bloggers’ skills in creating interesting buzzy content and importantly in knowing how to seed that content through communities on Twitter and Facebook is invaluable to this end. There is no reason why it couldn’t go further either, with more explicit link building activities such as hosting blogging carnivals.

2. The travel writer / blogger as SEO content creator for travel companies

Commissioning writers to produce content that will rank well in the SERPS is not exactly new ground, but still there is huge potential. Most travel businesses will be targetting attraction names and hotel names for organic traffic. So why not keep a list of all the places you’ve been to and all the hotels you’ve been to on your blog. There are literally thousands of online travel agents and tour operators and if they are not already, they will all have to start writing their own original content to keep up with Google’s attempts to weed out the thin affiliates.

If I am snooping around trying to find someone to write about Kenya, then when I see on your blog that you have visited all the places and hotels I want to target in the SERPS then I am definitely going to get in touch. This kind of work is never going to be glamorous or earn big money, but it is an easy way to monetise your past travel. All we are talking about are short 400 word reviews of hotels or destination guides.

3. The travel writer / blogger as expert endorsement for travel companies

In the travel industry, demonstrating destination expertise dramatically improves conversion rates. Customers want to know they are getting advice from someone who knows the place well. This is an area of massive opportunity for bloggers who concentrate on building knowledge on specific locations or activity niches. Clearly there would have to be a good fit between the expert and the travel company along with clear guidelines on independence, but generally speaking, I can foresee two models of working together:

Blogger as Curator / Endorsement: This is so rarely done (the only example I can think of is the recent Gap Adventures global nomads project), yet as a travel company launching product for a new destination, advice from a destination expert on which hotels / tours etc. to feature and an introduction / endorsement piece for the collection would go a long way towards building credibility, not to mention the potential PR benefit of the association to the company.

Blogger as Local Expert on Call: In my experience at least 80% of customer interactions in travel are factual and related to things like logistics, availability, prices etc. This is the dull stuff we can leave to one side (and which in all reality should be automated). The other 20% is where the secret sauce comes in – specific destination knowledge,  giving advice to customers.

It is expensive for tour operators and travel agencies to have that knowledge in house. This is where an outsouced destination expert could come in.

It is kind of like the Tripbod model. What is interesting is that I see lots of very good writers doing this already for free on Tripadvisor and the LP thorntree (check out the Tripadvisor contributions of Richard Trillo, author of the Rough Guide to Kenya). There must be an opportunity for businesses to tap into this specific knowledge and of course renumerate the expert appropriately.

These are little more than sketches of ideas at the moment, but they seem to demand a little experimentation. What is interesting is that all these require more than just traditional writing skills. Lara wrote about the importance of mastering not just writing, but photography, video and audio – I’d add SEO to that list too. The best thing is that your own blog is the practise ground for all this, so even it isn’t making you money directly, it is your billboard and learning ground.

Ben Colclough is a founder of Tourdust Adventure Travel. Tourdust was set up to help travellers connect with great local operators without having to buy into expensive packaged tours. He writes on the Tourdust blog about adventure travel and the challenges of responsible and green travel. You can follow Ben on Twitter.

Travel Bloggers & Travel Businesses – A topic that won’t go away is a post from: 501 Places

When travelling, we all know that any holiday is enhanced when you can speak the lingo. Not only does it enable us to earn respect of the people in the places we visit, bargain better prices but it helps make those very personal connections that make many of us want to travel in the first place.

Remember the time when you ordered your first meal, bought your first train ticket or understood your first joke in a foreign language? Simple things suddenly become an exciting challenge and an adventure. So why do we not bone up on some basic language skills before every trip?

I know, good intentions do not always go to plan and just because your copy of “Speak Dagistani in 3 months” is still lying untouched in the cupboard as you are grabbing your passport, money and tickets on the way to the airport doesn’t mean all is lost. Last minute cramming en route is still possible.

So here is my patented 7 steps to “learning a language” on the go.

1. Learn some greetings on the plane

Pretty obvious, I know. You meet a lot of people every day whilst on a trip so learning how to say “hello”, “good bye”, “thanks” and “I’m sorry I don’ta speaka de language” is only polite. The plane is the perfect place to practice. Even on budget airlines the hostesses are taught to be polite and patient so make use of it as you stumble over your “Selamet Tidur”’s and “ni hao”’s and ensure you don’t mistake your “Origato” from your “Nyotaimori”. By the time you get to immigration you should be able to say “hello”, “thanks”, “good bye” and “sorry my passport went through the wash, yes I know I should get a new one but they are damned expensive these days” without the hint of an accent.

Always ensure that the language you learn is the correct one. I once spent 30 hours on a coach from Istanbul to Tabriz in Iran learning Farsi only to find out after a day in the city that they speak Azeri.

2. Learn the numbers in the taxi from the airport

How can I remember all the numbers? There are literally thousands of them!! True, but of course you only have to remember some. 1-5, 8, 10, 20, 30, 50, 80, 100 I find are the only ones you really need. I find 7 completely useless and discard any numbers that you find hard to pronounce. The cab to the Hotel is the place to get the numbers down pat. Cabbies like to chat and frantically holding 3 fingers in his face sure as hell beats “So… been busy tonight?”

3. Realise that you know so much already

“They’ve got it all wrong with teaching French. They should start off teaching you all the words that are the same as English and then move on to the ones that are different”.

Words of wisdom from an Aussie I met in Istanbul.

But in a way he’s right.

The UK’s culinary deficiency means that you are already half way there with food:

How hard is it to order una Pizza, deux bier, teen samosa, vier frankfurter, payt vodka, ses tacos… you don’t need to learn the number 7… ba chowmien, nau kebob, on baklava, the list goes on.

But beware of some false friends out there. The Turks have never heard of Turkish Delight and you’ll get some blank looks asking for Bombay Mix in Mumbai.

We can find transport through Europe on the autobus, Russia in a machina and Afghanistan in a motor.

What is really incredible is that the fantastique, not to mention chic, French have made it easy for us to be superb critics.

So, by the end of the first night you should be politely ordering food, saying how wonderful it was and only getting a little stiffed by the cabbie on the way home.

"I said 6 drachmas!"

4. Learn Time Phrases as you get on the bus

After a great start with minimal effort it is time to do some serious work as you negotiate the bus and train stations. “Tomorrow” is a word that I find absolutely essential in any language. I defy even Lionel Blair to mime “tomorrow” effectively without the use of any props. “I am coming back” is pretty handy and “Let’s go” usually gets a laugh from fellow passengers. Asking the time from strangers is a great way to practice your pronunciation and listening skills as well as a good way to find out what the time is.

5. Consolidate your skills with focused conversation in confined environments

With a limited vocabulary, discussions regarding the existential problems of the human condition and the effects of deterministic chaos on economic models are probably going to be beyond you. But that doesn’t mean that long train journey or the nights in shepherds’ huts have to be done in silence once you have exhausted your repertoire of counting and saying thank you.

Political views can be quite accurately assessed by listing world leaders and giving a good or a bad after each one; and of course don’t be afraid of sacrificing your actual opinions at the altar of being understood. I recall telling someone in The Netherlands that I didn’t want a kebab because the shop looked dirty. I didn’t know the words for not hungry but didn’t want to let the side down.

Toilet humour is a winner when trying to cross language boundaries.

One "Not small Mac" please

6. Only learn half the adjectives

Adjectives come in pairs. Hot/Cold. Big/Small. Genius/Idiot. Cut your work in half by learning the word “not” and only one of the adjectives.

7. Get some ale into you in the evenings

Nothing gets the tongue moving like some liquor. This is why my Arabic is so bad…. but then so is my Russian so go figure. The jury is still out on whether language skills actually improve after mid to heavy drinking or just appear to improve and until Harvard issue me with a grant for my 7 year long research project on the subject we will never know for sure. However, drinking does increase confidence and lowers inhibitions which are crucial to going that extra step in getting yourself understood. By the third evening of the trip you should be lightly oiled discussing world politics and socio-economic differences between nations whilst ordering drinks and snacks in fluent lingo. On the subject of lowered inhibitions….

8. For the really keen, some late night lessons

If you are really keen on learning a language then you must follow in the footsteps of those great Victorian linguists Sir Richard Burton and Sir Harry Flashman and ..ahem..dive right in. I have been reliably informed that pillow talk with a native speaker of a language is one of the best ways to hone your oral skills.

And that’s it. Soon the trip is over and the words drift from your mind. Within a few weeks you can’t even remember how to say “look here, this spoon is not clean” and within a month even the most basic phrases are lost.

However, years later on the tube, in a bar or in the park you will hear some words, “si, clara”, “Dobre den” or “ni de gou chi le wo de baozi” and you will be transported back to another place, another time and you’ll be heading back home to search for that copy of “Uzbek for Beginners”.

James Willcox is MD of Untamed Borders, a travel company specializing in trips to Afghanistan and Pakistan. Over the last 18 years he has started learning 21 languages and considers himself fluent in none of them.

7 steps to slinging the bat is a post from: 501 Places

Handing over a modest tip for good service ought to be one of the pleasures of travelling – but despite the growth of international travel, many of us are still baffled and embarrassed by the whole business of gratuities. Who and when should you tip, and how much?

A survey by M&S Travel Money claimed the average British family on holiday overseas over-tips by £135 a week. That might come as a surprise to some Americans, who consider Brits to be tight-fisted. But there are occasions when you don’t need to put your hand in your pocket – and others when it’s rude not to.

Where in the world?

The first rule of tipping is, do as the locals do. There are countries where tipping is just not done. In Japan, for instance, it’s considered an insult. In Australia and New Zealand it never caught on. There’s no need to tip in Singapore or China, but it’s de rigeur in Hong Kong.

In America, the whole service economy is built around generous tipping. If your lunch looks cheap, that’s probably because you’ve yet to add the “optional” 20%. You can’t opt out of tipping in the States – either grin and bear it, or holiday elsewhere. Being heckled by a barman or a waiter is not a nice way to end a night out.

In the Middle East and the Indian subcontinent, the subtly-different system of baksheesh applies. Depending on the context, baksheesh can be a gracious demonstration of gratitude or respect, or blatant bribery. In India, for instance, you may get better service at a hotel or restaurant if you tip staff on arrival, rather than when you leave.

Hotels

At smart hotels you’ll find all manner of people ready to carry out menial tasks in exchange for a tip. If you begrudge paying someone to carry your suitcase to your room, get a bag with wheels.

First, the doorman. If he opens a door for you, thank him. If he carries your bag, tip him. Having negotiated check-in (no tip required), you can carry your own bags to your room, or let a porter do it. Try to arrive armed with local currency in small denominations (foreign coins are rarely appreciated, partly because they are hard to exchange).

In the US, expect to tip at least $1 per bag. In the UK and Europe a £1 or €1 coin is usually sufficient, unless there are five stars above the door, in which case you may feel more comfortable forking out a fiver.

Leave a small tip on your pillow for the maid every day – not when you check out, as there may be a different person on duty. There’s no need to tip the concierge for advice, but if he gets you tickets to a sold-out show you’ll want to reward him generously.

In the spa, ask first whether service is included (it usually is), because scrabbling around in your handbag for a tip is a sure-fire way to shake you out of that state of blissful relaxation.

Restaurants

Study restaurant bills to see what’s included. In France, restaurants are legally obliged to include the service in the bill. A similar system works in Greece and in Italy, where the coperto (cover charge) should go to the waiting staff.

In Spain, on the other hand, the tax (known as IVA) is added, but rarely the service. So 10% to the waiter is appreciated.

In America, 10% is stingy. A tip of 15-20% is expected (“double the tax” is an easy way to work it out). If the service is bad, don’t suffer in silence – speak to the manager. At bars in the States, it is customary to tip a couple of dollars per drink, even if you’re buying a round. You can run a tab, but you’ll still be expected to cough up an equivalent amount.

Cruise ships

Although some cruise brochures claim, “tipping is not required,” it is still expected by staff, according to Douglas Ward, author of the Berlitz Complete Guide to Cruising & Cruise Ships.

Ward says you should budget for US$10-$12 per person, per day, in gratuities: up to $4 to your dining room waiter, $2 to the assistant waiter, $3.50 to the cabin steward or stewardess and – if you have one – $5 to your butler. Tips are normally given out on the final evening of a cruise. There’s no need to tip bar staff or spa therapists, as their bills include service.

About Mark

Mark Hodson is a journalist and co-founder of the travel inspiration sites, 101 Holidays and 101 Honeymoons. He spent 12 years as a full-time freelance travel writer for The Sunday Times and has visited more than 70 countries.

Tipping: when and how much is right? is a post from: 501 Places

Bran, Romania

We all need some time off. We all feel the need to take a break, whether its a shorter or a longer one. The most easy way to get your batteries recharged is to take a weekend getaway – whether in your country or in another one. The idea is to change the scenery, to enjoy some time off work, to relax and have some fun outside the office, with family and/or friends.

I’ll start with a confession: yes, there are some weekends when I work when I have to finish something. But when I decide to take a weekend off and travel, people at work know that I don’t like to be disturbed.

Is that possible? Hmm… Usually yes, but here’s a real story involving me and my then to be husband Andrei.

I remember the first weekend getaway I had with Andrei. We went to the mountains (somewhere near Bran), but didn’t manage to enjoy ourselves too much. Why? Because a colleague bothered my boyfriend all day, asking for advice or even guidance to different IT procedures.

This was all Saturday (we left Saturday morning and were scheduled to get back in Bucharest on Sunday evening), and at the end of the day his colleagues told Andrei that he couldn’t solve the situation. So here we were Sunday morning rushing back to Bucharest; only to find out that in the meanwhile the problem was solved. Of course the colleague forgot to give him a call and let us know that. Not very nice, wouldn’t you say?

As you can see it’s not a very happy situation. And yes, we were disappointed when we found out that the person called over and over again to ask different questions but didn’t bother to send at least a text message to let us know everything was solved. Thankfully over the years we’ve had many weekend getaways when we could enjoy ourselves without work related stress.

Have you have similar weekends where you have tried to escape work and it has followed you on your getaway?

About the author

Violeta-Loredana Pascal is passionate about public relations, communications and image (she has a PR agency, PRwave INTERNATIONAL). Lori also loves reading, writing and of course travelling, and she shares her travel experiences on Travel – Moments in Time. Follow Lori on Twitter @TravelMoments.

When is a weekend not a weekend? is a post from: 501 Places

I recently saw some interesting research that showed travel is the dominant status symbol of our age. So in the social hierarchy of our times, are flash cars and designer labels easily out-weighed by tales of intrepid travels? It certainly seems believable. Many of us will have witnessed the game of top trumps that takes place when two experienced travellers meet, as they strive to outdo each other with tales of near-misses and $2 hostels. That status seems to reside in the authenticity of an experience rather than the luxury of a holiday; tales of meeting local people or enjoying ridiculously cheap transport (budget airlines included) demonstrate a degree of adventure, savviness and street-smarts far greater than lording it up in the Maldives could ever do.

I have to admit I’ve experienced it myself – both as a recipient and sadly as a bragger too! Just this week, over a curry in a fantastic Nepalese restaurant, a friend I hadn’t seen for a while told of an incredible mountaineering trip in Uganda. I was both fascinated and incredibly jealous and I’d be a liar if I denied his reputation had gone up a notch in my estimation. And of course on the other side of the fence, I’d be pleased as punch to show off the Mongolian, Chinese, Sri Lankan, Russian and Vietnamese stamps in my passport to anyone who asks (there I go again…)

But while there are certainly travel adventures worthy of this social status, I think it is time to blow the lid on the status that backpacking in the broader sense seems to demand. There is a myth that backpackers are worthy of respect in a way that their package brethren never could be. The reality is that backpacking often involves little more than a boozy jaunt with university chums – as anybody who has travelled the East Coast of Australia can pay testament to. The backpackers are all doing exactly the same thing, moving at the exactly the same rate and coming from exactly the same socio-economic background.

So, if somebody says they’ve backpacked for months on end, don’t be intimidated – it is easier than you could ever imagine. Backpacking in destinations like SE Asia or Australia is like travelling in a gigantic funnel. You’ll end up going to the same places and doing the same things in roughly the same order as everyone else.

There is a backpacker infrastructure that takes care of it all for you. Your hostel will happily arrange your tour guide and book your onward travel and next bed. Local transport can be ignored as you swan from one hostel to the next in an air conditioned minivan full of other backpackers. A backpacker ecosystem surrounds you in a cosy world full of home comforts, international movies, internet cafes and English speakers.

At some stage you have to ask yourself in what way is a backpacker cafe serving burgers, pizzas and banana pancakes (they all do) different to a greasy spoon on the Costa Del Sun serving up bacon butties, builder’s tea and a fresh copy of the tabloid papers? In what way is a backpacker mini-bus different to a package coach holiday?

This all dawned on me when travelling in China (there I go again, bragging). We’d invited parents out to join us for a week and passed through Yangshuo – a rare laid back backpacker oasis for China. Until then the parents had a degree of respect for our intrepid journeys, but when they saw the banana pancake cafes et al they laughed as the mystique was shattered and they realised what backpacking really entailed.

None of this means I don’t love backpacking – I do. In fact I am allergic to travelling with a fixed itinerary, I feel trapped, claustrophobic and start looking for the exit. I’d much rather be in a hostel than a bland hotel and I’ll continue to enjoy socialising with my fellow backpackers. I would just recommend anyone who hasn’t tried it yet to give it a go – oh and for us ‘travellers’ to stop looking down our noses at the ‘tourists’ on their package holidays.

Ben Colclough is a founder of Tourdust Adventure Travel. Tourdust was set up to help travellers connect with great local operators without having to buy into expensive packaged tours. He writes on the Tourdust blog about adventure travel and the challenges of responsible and green travel. You can follow Ben on Twitter.

The Great Untold Myth of Backpacking is a post from: 501 Places

The village of Antrialgo

More than fifteen years ago my family had a cottage in a sunny village called Antrialgo in the Council of Piloña, Asturias. This cottage used to be rented from time to time but it was not prepared to receive many people. We have always liked the countryside, and thinking about restoring a typical Asturian house with its wood and stones was an important challenge which would make us work in a different way.

The house during construction

We thought about making the two houses into one to avoid a very uneven piece of land and we aimed to build a typical Asturian rural house, while considering the design of a hotel. A long time ago rural tourism meant that your parents sent you to your family village during the summer, but now setting up a business in the countryside is part of an important economy run by entrepreneurs who do not necessarily live in a rural environment.

The house is finished and ready for guests

When we started to restore the house all the family worked on it, and even during the weekend we worked hard to be able to have it opened for the summer. When building a house for renting it is important to take into account that August is the peak season and it must be ready to welcome customers at this time.

Even harder than building the property was finding the name of a website in order to be visible on the internet which, although slowly at first, was starting to be used by many holidaymakers. The name we chose was that of the area where the house is settled; Campón de Antrialgo (www.campondeantrialgo.es). At that time many hotels did not have their own website and their email addresses were hosted on hotmail, which made them look bad in front of the customer.

Inside the house

We worked hard to create a quality brand although we realized that intangible things were not the key for customers to come to us. Our main worry was to be able to pay the loan we had asked for in order to mend the house, and to gauge our business to make sure we could get full occupancy during the busy days.

Inside the house

We met a lot of people: rural tourism allows you to be nearer to your customers and they even become our friends. Our tourists were and still are mainly domestic, and we have always thought that the real challenge is to make us well known in other countries. Every time we have German, Dutch or British customers we realize that there is still hard work to be done in order to sell our product in Europe.

We have been like this now for ten years, until by chance we were offered a chance to be part of what is known as Huerta San Benito. This has become one of the most important businesses in Asturias, being in several interior decoration magazines and being one of the 180 charming houses classified by the prestigious “Guia El País Aguilar”.

Currently we have a new focus, which is the conversation derived from social media. Being in rural surroundings does not mean that you can’t use the internet in a professional way with your customers, but it does mean that you must talk to them in order to foster your brand. Many of these customers have their own blogs, Twitter or Facebook accounts and they speak highly of us through these channels. Our business, although settled in the small community of Rural Tourism, has and uses the same online resources as any other firm.

Juan Otero Rionda was born in nearby Arriondas, and used to work for a large multi-national business before turning his passion to developing and managing the rural houses.

As well as looking after the growing business Juan also founded Ruralvalue, the first franchise of Rural Tourism in Spain and is the founder of Turismo.as, a forum to discuss Tourism and Technology that had its first meeting in Oviedo in April 2010.

When he is not working hard Juan can be found travelling around Asturias, constantly learning more about this region while enjoying its diverse gastronomy and beautiful landscapes. You can follow Juan on Twitter.

A labour of love: restoring a rural house in Asturias, northern Spain is a post from: 501 Places

For many people, when you mention the city of Leeds, they associate it with being a great place for nightlife and shopping, but as a local I know that there’s much more to the city than bars and boutique shops. Whenever you see Leeds mentioned on the television they always refer back to its industrial past, and some in the media even like to still portray that it is grim up north.

Here are a few reasons why I love Leeds:

Parks and open spaces

Canal Gardens at Roundhay Park, Leeds

It does not matter if you are staying in the city centre or in the suburbs, Leeds has tons of open spaces and parks that are well looked after. Temple Newsam and Roundhay Park are popular with locals for relaxing in the sunshine (yes, it is sunny occasionally!) or for letting the kids run around to burn off some energy. Within the city centre you can eat your lunch and people-watch at various open spaces like Millennium Square, Queens Park or City Square.

The waterfront

Leeds and Liverpool Canal

Many people visit the city without even realising that we have a waterfront. In the summer this is my favourite part of the city to socialise, relax and walk. Brewery Wharf has loads of restaurants and bars nearby, whereas Clarence Dock is home to the Royal Armouries. Head to Granary Wharf and you’ll find the Sky Bar in the City Inn hotel with great views of the city from the 13th floor.

Popular annual Leeds events

Party in the Park and Opera in the Park are the biggest free music events held in the UK, with over 100,000 people heading to Temple Newsam to listen to the pop and opera artists. The German Christmas market at Millennium Square is also popular with locals, with its market stalls, huge beer tent and Oompah band.

Recommended bars in Leeds

View from City Inn Hotel Sky Bar

I know I mentioned earlier that there’s more to Leeds than the nightlife, and there is. But I couldn’t write a guide about things I love about Leeds without mentioning my favourite bars. The North bar imports beers from around the world, and Midnight Bell has a great selection of real ale from the local brewery.

Darren Cronian has written about the issues that consumers have with travel for the last five years on his now famous Travel Rants blog. In 2009, frustrated at the lack of attention cities like Leeds receive in the media, he launched a website to highlight the many great things that Leeds has to offer. You can read more about places to visit and stay in Leeds on My Life in Leeds, a locally written guide to the city. You can also follow Darren on Twitter.

Why I love Leeds is a post from: 501 Places

This old memory remains a favourite, showing how life’s miserable travel experiences can become our best stories and fun memories.

Light mist on the hills

I was 26 in 1975, traveling alone and in Europe for the first time. I was as unsophisticated as they come: green as grass! It is hard today to realize just how different travel was then. Travel guides were few; blogs, websites and today’s flood of information didn’t exist.  No credit cards. Even simple travel was an adventure.  My  quest was to spend a month in a country where I knew not a soul, didn’t know the language or currency and had no real way of connecting with anyone back home.  I was proving myself to myself.

So here I was, two weeks into my trip in the little resort town of Sesimbra, and it was time to head to the Algarve by train.  Remember, hardly anybody spoke English and I spoke no Portuguese.  Somehow my desk clerk made me realize I had to be up at 4 a.m. to take a bus to get me to the train.

Our bus rambled down narrow roads in the dark, twisting and turning and finally heading into thick dark fog. After about 2 hours we got to town.  The bus driver pointed me down a small street where I’d find a station several blocks away.  Sure enough I discovered a tiny ticket booth.

Foggy hills fade into the distance

I showed the teller my itinerary with my Algarve destination.  “No, no, no” she insisted with an emphatic wag of her finger.  She pointed out into the fog and sent me on my way.  About 10 minutes later, in fog so thick that I could barely make out the other side of the street, I knew I was lost.  Being an enterprising sort, I noticed a cop directing traffic and asked him where the train station was.  He pointed me back in the direction I’d come from.  So I trudged dutifully back, got in line and received a puzzled frown from the agent.  “No, no, no” she wagged again and sent me back off.  I got a little further in the dark and fog but still couldn’t find a station.  At this point I began to feel panic.  It was dark, I was cold and tired and feeling dreadfully alone. The streets were filling up with people on their way to work and I unsuccessfully asked a few well-dressed men for help.

I began to think I wasn’t up for this adventure travel business, that I should wait for the fog to clear, hop the bus back to Lisbon and stay in the city for the rest of my trip, safe but knowing that travel wasn’t for me.  Suddenly I became indignant; my spine stiffened.  I decided I wasn’t about to be defeated by darkness, fog nor lack of language.

As I stood on that street corner, I noticed some schoolboys.  In Lisbon I’d often heard young men dressed like this practicing their English. So I approached them to discover they spoke  “A few words”, which actually was quite a lot!  They assured me that the little train booth was my best option.

Trees and farmhouse disappear into the mist

So, armed with this help, I headed back –again!  This time the exasperated agent sighed deeply and sold me a 5¢ ticket. Before long a single, tiny railcar arrived.  The agent told me to get on and then followed.  In 5 minutes we arrived at a large station where she signaled me to get off.  After getting myself oriented I stepped up to a booth, laughing when I discovered the same clerk was there to serve me!  At least I didn’t have to tell her where I was headed.  I got my ticket then wandered out on the platform.

By this time the fog had lifted, the sun was shining but I was completely uncertain that I was on the right platform: Portuguese signs, of course.  I spied a couple of very blond folks with backpacks, hoping they were British.  Turned out they were Aussies heading for Faro who assured me I was in the right spot, so I relaxed and we chatted until the train arrived.

Those few moments of connecting with people I could talk readily with completely restored my equilibrium.  And that one-hour experience of being ‘lost in the fog’ showed me that by remaining calm and using the small lessons I’d learned I’d get my needs met.

So here’s to fog and other travails of travel.  They really teach us so very much! And they call up the true traveler in us.

Gwen McCauley is a Canadian Life Transition Coach, author, artist and facilitator of secular retreats and culinary experiences in the Algarve, Portugal. You can learn more about off-the-beaten-track Algarve from her two blogs: http://algarveexperiences.com and http://myalgarve.wordpress.com. Follow Gwen on Twitter

Lost in the fog: a Canadian finds her spirit of adventure in Portugal is a post from: 501 Places

View from Tadapani guest house

The latest guest post on 501 Places is written by Kathryn Bullock, a travel industry entrepreneur who has just returned from a solo trip to Nepal. Kathryn shares with us a glimpse of her 6 day Himalayan trek and gives some valuable insights into her experiences of visiting Nepal as a solo female traveller.

Following his successful jaunt around Laos on trail bikes last year, my partner Dave proudly announced he was back off to Thailand this February. He would travel with his biking buddy for a jaunt around the hill tribe villages on a trail bike. I prefer more active holidays so I decided it was time to book a ticket to the country I’d wanted to go to for years: the stunning Himalayan kingdom of Nepal.

Nepali family at lakeside village

As it was too late to persuade a friend to join me I thought, why not just book it anyway? It’s been all of 24 years since my last solo adventure around Indonesia so I was well out of practice. I loved every minute of it! I had read that as a woman if you want to meet people you just need to sit at a bar and not sit at a table. So I tried this at a little bar in Kathmandu and I met some really friendly locals.

Bandipur child

The city is overwhelming and I was a bit concerned about getting lost the first night. It’s such a labyrinth of small lanes which all look the same and are jammed with signposts of every shape and colour. I did some reading ahead of time and booked the first two nights in Kathmandu at the charming Hotel Courtyard which was blissfully quiet. I left the rest to chance. The freedom this gave me was liberating. I stepped into a small travel agency and had my ticket to Pokhara booked and paid for within minutes for the next morning. I enjoyed the first glimpse of the Himalayas in their full glory peaking above the smoggy clouds over the Kathmandu valley as I gazed out from our tiny Guna air plane.

Dal and I at Poon Hill

On reaching Pokhara I explored the trail on the ridge between Serangkot Hill and Nau Danda, watching the paragliders in full flight. February is the best month for thermals in this dreamy place. I hired a bike to explore the lakeside villages and was invited into a friendly farmer’s home for tea and a chat, whilst we enjoyed the last of the sun’s rays on his terrace, watching the world go by.

The 6 day trek around the Ghorepani and Chomrung circuit was a real highlight. My expert guide Dal is a seasoned trekker and recounted enchanting stories of seeing snow leopard in the Mustang Valley and other amazing trekking adventures through snow drifts. The views from the guest houses in the early morning sun were breathtaking and everyone must have heard a series of excited exclamations as I stood on the balcony each morning taking in the views. You have to earn this treat as you climb the very steep staircases for what seem hours on end – but they really are worth it! A tip is to make sure you take at least one walking pole or ideally two, as they do help especially up to Poon Hill (3200m) on the ice for the very special Annapurna panorama at sunrise.

View from Poon Hill at sunrise

On returning to Kathmandu I decided on the slower route back and stopped off at the charming medieval village of Bandipur which is nestled in the hills. I loved the peace and quiet of the place. I imagined that I was living there in medieval times as it was so dark and quiet at night with the power cut and traffic banned in the village centre. I also stopped off at the original Nepali capital of Gorka and climbed another 1500 stairs to appreciate the views from the Hindu temple above the town, and saw the women preparing the goat sacrifice for the gods.

Main Street Bandipur

On coming back to Kathmandu I stopped in at the very friendly Everest Irish pub in Thamel to see a great Nepali blues band I had seen on arrival. I encouraged some new Dutch trekking friends to come with me and we had an amazing night of blues magic. The band had been thrown in prison and beaten up for playing just 10 minutes after a noise curfew at 10pm last year and  have the scars to prove the brutality of the local police.

I learnt a lot from my new Nepali friends about life in this country and I’ve already bought my maps to plan my next trek. I would book another trip in a heartbeat. The only challenge now is to knuckle down to some work to pay for it and stop day dreaming about my trip.

For all the pictures on the places described above and more in Nepal, please visit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kb_adventures

Kathryn Bullock is a frequent traveller and an ecommerce expert and entrepreneur who has worked in the travel industry for the past 25 years. She is now working on a new business venture in social media for travel and is a regular blogger for business owners at:  www.enterprisebritain.com and her blogs can be found at http://anothereb.blogspot.com/

On the roof of the world: solo adventures in Nepal is a post from: 501 Places

Where the Aral sea once stood

The latest guest post on 501 Places is by Jerry Kubica. Jerry was born in Poland but during his early childhood had to survive the horrors of the war and deportation before arriving and settling in England.

He set up the Our Roots Trust project to explore the roots of those imprisoned and killed in Belarus, Kazakhstan, Russia, Ukraine and Poland; and to help those left behind, who still serve as a living legacy to the brutality of Stalin’s regime.

The post is an extract from Jerry’s visit to Kazakhstan; visit his site to read more of the story, and please take the time to visit the link at the end of the post to judge an art contest from a school in Belarus that benefits from Our Roots Trust.

An advertisement in the Sunday Times Appointments may read something like this:

Marketing Executive – Aralsk, Kazakhstan

The job: A high-flier is sought to resuscitate a small fishing port town, and to regenerate hope and prospects for its inhabitiants.

The person: Needs to have vision, imagination, perseverance and, perhaps most importantly, faith in the common sense of mankind. Faith in God or providence is not required, but certain Don Quixote characteristics will be appropriate to the task.

The Challenge: Not so much the windmills as the wind; southerly gales, in fact, that have already blown all topsoil off the surrounding region and now sweep salt and dust into the air in the heat of the day. And as the sea, the main attraction and source of livelihood here has moved out of town some 80 Km south (eighty Km!), the job is to entice it back.

Remuneration: You will be rewarded with the eternal gratitude of the people and the environment.

Aralsk, Kazakhstan

My train pulls in to a station at 07.22 hrs. ARALSK. Am I the only passenger getting off? Clusters of men stand idly on the platform but only one or two other passengers emerge and walk towards the station building. A forlorn station on the main rail route from Moscow to Tashkent; it looks even less inviting inside. A taxi takes me to the one hotel in town; the road is empty, the hotel is empty; no sign of life in fact, so I have to wake up the receptionist fast asleep somewhere behind the desk. Is it always like this?

A little bit of money well spent will go a long way here, so I pay for a solid breakfast at the hotel. I am the only one sitting to breakfast in this huge eating room with some fifteen tables; my only companion is a woman barely awake at the serving hatch and… twenty, or more, two-litre beer jugs in disarray in the hatch! Is this a sign of debauchery of the night before, or of the day to come? “Oktoberfest” in May? Perhaps this place is not as dead as it seems.

Aralsk, Kazakhstan

As I step outside the hotel and look around to take in the scene, a welcoming party runs towards me: a tall, lanky man with shoulder-length blond hair grabs my hand in a warm hand shake. “Welcome my dear Russian friend, can you…” No, I am not Russian… “Oh sorry…” and he disappears as suddenly as he appeared – from nowhere to somewhere he only knows.

I walk about town. I am seeing something unique; something painful, dreadful yet, somehow, uplifting at the same time; seeing with my own eyes the effects of man’s meddling with nature; I am in awe of nature. It has to be seen to be believed. If only the doubters among us saw Aralsk we would all believe; we would all want to “fix it”.

As early as the 1920’s, Lenin also guessed that Aralsk held a great promise and he spelt it out in his Directive no.4. Its towns-people agreed to uphold this promise and the concordat between Lenin and the People, enshrined in a huge mural, is still in its original place on a wall in the waiting hall at the railway station in Aralsk.

“LENIN’S 4TH DIRECTIVE - WE WILL DELIVER 14 WAGONS OF FISH”

Lenin had faith in People. But then came Stalin followed by Khrushchev – they had faith in industrialization, in growing cotton – the white gold – in rice and water melons. People became dispensable. If God could part the Nile to let Moses lead the Jews out of Egypt, why, they could do better, much better. They could part the waters of Syr Daria and Amu Daria in as many places as they wished to irrigate barren lands; they could lead Soviet people out of poverty; they could make the Soviet Union powerful like Egypt of old.

But they forgot another Biblical line: “Take from Peter to pay Paul”. And so, while millions of people were fed in one place and foreign currency rolled into Soviet coffers, others lost their livelihood and even their lives. And the Aral Sea, starved of its Syr Daria and Amu Daria waters, shrunk, then shrivelled, its fish gone, its fishing fleets marooned in the sand, its fish processing factories disintegrated.

The land is now desert and dust storms of salt eat out peoples’ lungs. People have shrunk too, both in size and numbers. Just look at these appalling statistics.

These statistics don’t lie. Just walk up to the edge of what used to be the quay and look south west. Can you see what’s between you and the horizon? No skyscrapers, no zemlanka, not even a molehill to obstruct your view; and certainly no water. And if you don’t believe your own eyes, ask the port crane standing next to you. It will tell you a story of man’s ingenuity and its folly. Look at the steel carcass of this dinosaur, dead from man’s indifference; look at its proud jib still gazing out to sea. What can it see?

Aralsk, Kazakhstan

And if you don’t believe its mute pain, ask the taxi driver; ask the museum administrator. At 54, the taxi driver looks old, wrinkled, parched by the wind, sun and salt. He used to work in the local fish processing plant; now he lives off an old Russian-made Fiat taxi parked just outside the hotel – the fish factory is dead. Yet, when he was ten years old, he used to bathe in the sea that practically lapped the steps of the hotel. The curator of the local museum also remembers how, when she was only three or five years old, she too used to jump into the sea, right here, by the entrance to the port, next to the hotel.

Cranes standing idle where the sea has long left town

Now, in the morning the streets are deserted, later in the day they are still deadly silent. Eating places (you can’t call them restaurants) are also empty; small groups of men come, sit at a table for a while, eat a little and drink rather more beer. Hanging over the main street is an atmosphere of somewhere, way out maybe in Mexico. You could imagine a cowboy on horseback riding in while people slink away, peep from behind doors…

Yet there is no evident anger amongst the few people met in the street; no rebellion against their fate; no hooligans, no drunkenness to any large extent. Perhaps it’s because Lenin’s Directive on the mural doesn’t say whether the 14 wagons of fish were to be delivered in 1920 or 1927, every day or every year, in a five year plan, or perhaps in the next thirty years. So the pressure on people is off; they can relax, they can wait for the miracle when the waters and fish will once again lap the steps of the hotel. Then their promise will finally be realised.

Jerry grew up in England and he grew old in England. He says of his work with Our Roots Trust, “I am a fortunate man for, in between, I had a good life in the UK, the USA and France, but I lost my roots. So what shall I tell my children and their children? And so my search began in this big, beautiful and brutal world.”

Aralsk, Kazakhstan; where nature took revenge for man’s folly is a post from: 501 Places

Boston is a small city and you can walk from one end to the other in 30 to 40 minutes.  The parks are beautiful and the old buildings look like some of the historic ones in London.  It made me feel homesick! Here are some of our highlights.

Activities:

1. Walking Tour. On our first day we spent 6 hours walking. I think we had the best introduction to Boston by joining a guided photographic walking tour with Photo Walks on the Freedom Trail.  Our guide Saba was a colourful local with a great photographic eye.  As well as showing us the historic sites, she shared photographic tips that meant our photos were that much more special. Our guided walk finished in the Italian quarter with its lovely cafés and delis.  Way too many places tempting you with lovely things to eat!

Prior to our walking tour, we met a nice local chap in Starbucks on Newbury Street (who knew London quite well) and gave us some “must sees”.  It is a University town (73 colleges) so lots of young people – very lively.  It happened to be Halloween, which is taken quite seriously in Boston, and loads of people were dressed up in all sorts of costumes; the Beatles, bumble bees and of course witches and devils!

Later we decided we would also follow one of the walks featured in our guidebook around the Beacon Hill area, the oldest part of Boston.  The Museum of African American History is in Beacon Hill, as are a number of historically important sites linked to the Underground Railroad, which was key in aiding slaves to freedom before the civil war.

2. Fenway Park. On our second day I felt quite jet lagged still so we took it easy.  We had breakfast at Starbucks on Newbury Street and then went off to Fenway Park, the oldest active baseball park in the USA and home of the Boston Red Socks.  It was built in 1912 and as fate would have it, was overlooked as it was the same week the Titanic sank.  You could really feel the history, especially when you sat in the tiny original wooden seats.

3. Basketball. Sunday night we headed to the TD Garden to see the Boston Celtics play the New Orleans Hornets. They won – what a great atmosphere!  The Americans really join in on the fun and it was very lively.  They even had a presentation to a local hero during the game… a little boy who had saved his family in a fire.  I had to hold back the tears.

4. Harbor Cruise and Charestown Navy Yard. We took the Constitution Cruise with Boston Habor Cruises. This scenic cruise is about 45 minutes round trip and gives you views of Boston’s skyline as it heads out to the historic Charlestown Navy Yard, home to “Old Ironside” the USS Constitution, Naval Museum and WWII destroyer the USS Cassin Young and Bunker Hill. We disembarked at the naval yard and joined a free tour of the USS Cassin Young, led by a very knowledgeable park ranger.  It was a real eye-opener to see the cramped conditions so many men had to live in during WWII and beyond.  Picking up the next cruise an hour later, we continued around the harbour taking in views of the East Boston Piers and the Inner Harbor.

5. Harvard. We spent a whole afternoon at Harvard, and it really exceeded my expectations, especially the Business School campus. We joined the official student led free walking tour, providing an insight into life on the world-famous campus, while sharing some of the key sites and historic background. Anecdotes included the Robinson Gate (circa 1908) which students believe is unlucky to walk through except upon their arrival and on graduation, and “the statue of three lies”.  Apparently the bronze statue of John Harvard is in fact someone else, it refers to him as the founder when in fact he was the first major benefactor not founder and the date referred to as Harvard’s founding is also wrong! Doesn’t bode well if the best university in the world can’t get its own start date right!!! It seems they do have a good sense of humour!

The Business School campus was out of this world.  The buildings and landscaping are perfectly maintained with many aged trees, their leaves on fire with autumn colours.  There wasn’t a soul around, it was silent and still.  It was surreal – I felt like I had walked onto the set of an epic period movie.

6. New England Aquarium. On our last day we had been told by friends that we had to see the aquarium in Boston so we headed to the New England Aquarium on the harbour front.  The internal structure itself is quite unique – there is a central tank several stories tall with a ramp wrapped around it.  As you ascend or descend there is a great variety of ocean dwelling species to view at the various levels.  Away from the tank there are other exhibits including penguins and seals and of course live animal presentations, seal training sessions and feeding times.

Eating and Drinking

1. Jasper White’s Summer Shack. I had clam chowder (which was lovely) and 2 x 1lb lobsters (that was the portion size…I did not ask for double and to be honest 1lb would have been enough)!  You cannot imagine the mess I made…good job they give you a bib!  It was really good but I wouldn’t want to try it at home!

2. Boston Beer Works. After our tour of Fenway Park, we went to the Boston Beer Works for a late lunch.  They brew a good selection of seasonal beers on site and have a comprehensive menu.  The service was average but the beer was good!

3. Cheers Bar. Of course a visit to Boston would not be complete without the tradition of having a beer at the bar “where everyone knows your name”, Cheers! There are two sites, the original in Beacon Hill upon which the famous TV series was based and a Replica bar at Faneuil Hall/Quincy Market.  We hung out a few times at the Replica bar.  The service, selection of beers and the bar menu was very good (the clam chowder was excellent).

Transport tip

We headed for the airport using the City Water Taxi service from the harbour front.  As well as views of the Boston skyline at night from the harbour, it was a fast and economical way to get the airport (a shuttle bus service runs regularly from the dock takes you to the terminal buildings).

Overall, I loved Boston.  It is a compact, clean, fun city without being claustrophobic.  There is much to see and do for everyone and you can walk pretty much everywhere.  There are many beautiful public spaces and lots of historic walks.  It looks European with its old buildings, avenues and parks but feels vibrant and youthful, making the most of every day!  I look forward to my next visit!

About Veronica

Veronica was born and raised in Canada and has lived in the UK for the last 20 years.  She loves walking, talking, eating, drinking, dancing and travel.

Veronica advises organisations on the retention and development of talented women. You can visit her site at www.boomerangresources.co.uk and follow her on Twitter.

Boston: A perfect city break is a post from: 501 Places

A Land in the Diminuitive

Apologies in advance for the brief grammar lesson. The Dutch language has an interesting aspect to it – the diminutive. This is a way to decline nouns in a way that in English we would translate as “smaller.” So, for example the Dutch word for a table is different to the word for a “small table.” In many cases, especially in Amsterdam slang, nobody even uses the normal word and they always say the smaller version.

Now, an outsider might not find this at all surprising, the Netherlands being such a tiny country. However, it goes much deeper, as “small” infects so many aspects of Amsterdam life, and not always in bad ways. Floating along the canals in a friend’s “small” boat is an experience not to be missed. Locals prefer to linger in tiny, quirky cafes and drink several rounds of smaller-sized drinks, as opposed to the massive glasses served up in the UK.

In summary, the way I like to look at it is to compare Amsterdam life to a meal of tapas. It’s a place best enjoyed with a small sample of a little bit of everything. It’s all good and you don’t want to miss at least a taste!

Gezellig – an un-translatable word

Again, touching on the Dutch language, we find another interesting word: gezellig. The Dutch say it is un-translatable, although many an expat will tell you that it means “cosy.” Well, I’m here to tell you that cosy just doesn’t cut it.“Cosy Amsterdam” is something much more. Consider:

• Does cosy explain how relaxing on a Saturday evening in your favourite pub, a tiny little place with dust on the centuries old chandelier, while dance tunes quietly thump from the speakers and artisanal beers come fresh from the tap over conversations with your best mates?

• Does cosy explain how drifting down the canals in the heat of an Amsterdam summer as the world drifts by, not a care in the world?

• Does cosy explain the feeling you have while sitting under the stars, enjoying the best Indonesian food outside of Indonesia and canal reflections in either direction?

Amsterdam is a quirky, weird place. People are abrupt and speak their mind quickly.It’s kind of crowded. Everyone cycles everywhere and just getting on a bike is a death wish if you’re not in tune with the flow of traffic. But once you understand it, it gets under your skin, and you’ll realise why it’s not just cosy…it’s gezellig. A way of life.

But what about that other stuff?

Oh, you mean the marijuana bars, the endless rows of prostitutes, the noise and dirt, the loud and obnoxious drunks?    Well, yes, they’re there, but thankfully people that are into all that tend to stay in their own little corner. As a local, you’ll find yourself never venturing through the red light district with exception to check out a new hidden restaurant or a quick drink with a visitor.

That’s the funny thing about it. Everyone has this party-paradise vision of Amsterdam, and my view couldn’t be further from the truth. Relaxing cycle rides along countryside bike paths, picnics and getting burnt in the sunshine, amazing meals out from some of Europe’s best chefs.

That’s my Amsterdam.

Andy is a published author and well-respected travel writer.  Leaving behind the trials and tribulations of sunny Amsterdam, he now is based in Edinburgh, Scotland — just as gezellig but not as flat.  Read more of his travels on his website, Sharing Travel Experiences and connect with him on Twitter.

Amsterdam – An Insider View is a post from: 501 Places

The second author is travel agent and founder of Traveldudes, Melvin Boecher. Melvin has chosen to take us back into his early childhood – even before his first memory!

When Andy asked me if I would like to write an article for his blog, I directly was excited to do so. I also liked the idea to write about a place which meant a lot to me in my childhood. Then I sat down and thought about it a bit more and I had no clue what I could write about… Sure, I could write about so many other places which were really important to me in the last couple of years, but not of my childhood!

But I will stick to Andy’s challenge and I’ll write about a childhood experience, which I don’t even remember anymore! Sounds crazy? A bit perhaps, but it’s not.

It was 1981 and I was 4 years old. Just a year before my parents visited friends in Australia and discovered the country… without me! I stayed at home with my grandparents and I for sure had a good time, too. But I really missed my parents. I guess that was the first time I had wanderlust and itchy feet to discover the world without really knowing it. I’m lucky that my parents missed me, too. When they came back they regretted it, not to have taken me with them. I’m sure it’s not easy to travel with a small child, but when my parents won a small amount in the national lottery the year afterwards, the next trip was planned… with me!

So the flights were booked to Los Angeles and the small little traveldude, Melvin from Germany, went to discover his first unknown continent. My parents took me on a 6½ week road trip to many interesting destinations between the West and East Coast of the USA. So I’ve seen the Death Valley, the Grand Canyon, the Yosemite National Park, went all the way through Arizona to Texas. There I’ve seen the NASA museum with it’s rockets. I guess that was the moment, where I wanted to be an Astronaut when I would be older… We kept on with our road trip and we went all the way to Washington and New York.

My mum told me that I was always looking out of the window while driving and that I was really interested to discover that part of the world. My parents just made sure that our accommodations, where we stayed at, had a pool. That way I could have a swim in the evening, which I liked… I guess. Remember, at that time cars hadn’t any air-cons (or at least not our rental car) and it was so hot. For sure my parents couldn’t do all the things they would have done without a small child, like longer day tracks and other huge adventures. But they didn’t regret to take me along with them and I am really thankful to them, that they took me to my first road trip!

I am so sure that this, my first huge journey, definitely meant a lot for my following trips around the world. Otherwise, who knows if I would have become a travel agent. Would I have seen so many other fantastic cultures, sights and destinations in the world? I guess I also wouldn’t have started Traveldudes.org, a website For Travelers, By Travelers.

Yes, my first road trip… which I can’t remember anymore… means a lot to me!

Melvin loves to travel, to discover the world, to travel free and untroubled and still be informed like an insider. His motto: For Travellers, By Travellers!

Melvin did an apprenticeship to become a travel agent. But on his trips he learned that great travel tips from other travelers or locals always add something special to our travels. That was the inspiration for Traveldudes.


Traveldudes is a community of travelers whose aim is to assist fellow travelers on their adventures around the world and help enhance their travel experience.


Visit Traveldudes website here and follow Melvin on Twitter.

Road Trip across America – before my earliest memory is a post from: 501 Places

Our first author is Paola Santos, now living in the UK but here describing the fascinating town of San Miguel de Allende in her home country, Mexico.

When I tell people that I am from Mexico, I generally get a very good reaction; probably it reminds them of their last holiday in Cancun or at any other of the many beaches around Mexico.

On the other hand, if I am not so lucky, they may start a conversation pointing out how warm it must be in Mexico, probably thinking that the whole country is a desert. I usually joke with my friends saying that indeed, we Mexicans spend the day drinking Tequila, sitting by a cactus in the desert and riding donkeys.  Well, probably some people do spend their day like that, but the reality is that as in the case of most stereotypes, this is usually simply a fixed idea that people have about what someone or something is like.

This made me think about a place in Mexico that, although in many ways is quite traditional, at the same time can be defined as extremely cosmopolitan – a fusion that goes beyond stereotypes.  San Miguel de Allende is a colonial town in the centre of Mexico and, far from being a well kept secret anymore, it has even been awarded as UNESCO World Heritage site.

San Miguel, as we Mexicans simply call it, is a little piece of the past in the middle of the country.  Its cobblestone streets and its colourful houses, its shops with traditional handicrafts and restaurants with in-door patios and fountains, have managed to retain the historic feel and uniqueness of the town.

Last year, I spent a few days there to celebrate the New Year.  I am not necessarily a morning person, but that Saturday I left my hotel before 6.30 am to take some pictures of the real San Miguel just before the streets got too busy.  Walking uphill towards the town centre, along the traditional Zacateros Street, I could admire the silence of the sleepy town and realise the contrast between this quietness and the busy streets of Mexico City.

Each house was painted with different and vibrant colours that were at the same time in harmony with each other.  At the end of the street, I reached the high walls that surround one of the many churches in San Miguel, the Templo de la Concepción (Church of the Conception), and otherwise known as Las Monjas (the Nuns).  There, I turned into Canal Street passing by the corner of the Escuela de Bellas Artes (School of Fine Arts).  Then, I walked in front of a local curiosity: the Cantina where one of the scenes of the film Once Upon a Time in Mexico was filmed – not that I am endorsing any recommendations about the film here!

Finally, I reached the Jardín (Central Square), which is in many ways the heart of San Miguel.  It is at the Jardín where both, residents and tourists sit on the benches surrounded by trees to spend time and relax in front of a magnificent view towards the Parroquia (the Parish Church), which is without a doubt one of the most iconic buildings in San Miguel.

After an unmissable breakfast at the San Agustin Café, that included not a very healthy but otherwise perfect cup of hot chocolate and churros (fried bread sprinkled with sugar), I headed towards one of my favourite places, the Mercado de Artesanías (Handicrafts Market).  This Mercado is a place full of colour where handicrafts such as tin ware, wool, stonework, papier-mâché, hand-blown glass and pottery, can be found. Of course, this market does not lack some cliché merchandise, such as wrestling masks and colourful cowboy boots, which I personally find quite amusing.

During my last visit to the Market, I dropped by the workshop of a local artist, Tomas Ramirez who, like many other local artists, creates colourful image impressions of animals and plants painted on papel amate (tree bark).  His work has an original touch that places the images somewhere between a portrait and an abstract painting.

I personally find quite impressive that San Miguel has managed to maintain such a traditional and picturesque environment in spite of its growing popularity and the influx of migration of both, Mexicans and expats.  Visiting San Miguel always leaves me with a good feeling, and makes me think that if taking things slowly and enjoying traditions makes this place stereotypical, probably some stereotypes are not so bad after all.

Paola Santos is a traveller and keen photographer inspired by world cultures, anthropology, local arts, communities and languages. Born in Mexico, she currently lives in the UK after experiencing life in Canada and India. Her aim is to write about her travel experiences and the challenges and rewards of choosing an expat life.

Follow Paola on Twitter or see more of her pictures about her walk in San Miguel on Flickr.

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico: Beyond Stereotypes is a post from: 501 Places