Zen And The Art Of Microwaving Martians

Kyoto pics

A 20-hour flight to the other side of the globe feels like a trip to another planet. If the destination happens to be Japan, then you’ll really feel that you’re on another planet. You may even think that everything is fine, that you’ll manage to get to your hotel without running into something that looks out of this world…until you must face a Japanese ticket machine with more buttons than an airplane cockpit – it’s a visual assault and in your jet-legged state, you get dizzy just trying to find the “English” button which, truth be told, may not exist (survival tip: look at the maze-like chart above the machine, find the fare to your destination, throw the money in and press the button with the fare amount you want). That’s just one example of the cultural shock that is Japan and Kyoto is no exception - Kyoto station, the entry point to the city, is a gigantic 16-storey building that houses not only the train station, but also a 500-room hotel, a theater, two malls, a bus station, a museum and several restaurants. A labyrinthine black hole that you doubt you’ll ever get out of.

Kyoto is arguably the Japanese city that most retains the country’s traditions and I was surprised to see many young women wearing kimonos. For the life of me, I cannot imagine any woman wanting to walk around in wooden flip-flops in a dress so tight that barely lets her walk but they must wonder the same about western feet-mangling stilettos. Kimonos are not the biggest thing in Kyoto, though; green tea is. Japanese meals are served with a cup of green tea and there are several other variants such as green tea latte, green tea smoothie, green tea ice cream, green tea cream puff, chocolate sweets wrapped in green tea flour. I overdosed on green tea and already looked as green as a Martian by the second day.

Kyoto was the capital of Japan for over a thousand years from the 8th to the 19th century. Called Heian-kyō, or Capital of Peace and Tranquility, the town lived up to its name for four centuries and became Japan’s commercial and cultural center. But in the 10th century, the samurai, warriors who fought for the emperor against the tribes of northern Japan, started to form private armies and the ensuing fragmentation of power led to civil wars and internal conflicts. From the late 12th century, the country was ruled by a succession of shōgunates (military dictatorships), with Kyoto remaining the official capital but without any political power.

Kyoto was not bombed in WWII and is therefore the only big city in Japan that retains a large number of pre-war buildings. Among those are Kyoto’s 1600 temples and 400 Shintō shrines that are the city’s main attractions. Their design is meant to give a feeling of peace and tranquility in a setting that usually includes Zen gardens, ponds and paths through hills or groves. It would have been very relaxing if the whole population of Japan hadn’t decided to join me. November is Momiji-gari season (autumn leaf viewing) in Kyoto and no matter which temple or what time of day, there were always throngs of shutter-happy Japanese leaf-peepers of every possible age, and sometimes it took me a very, very, very long time to take a single picture. At times it was very frustrating, but other times I stood there so long that I even stopped thinking; and in a strange way, the temples did what they were supposed to do – they quieted my mind.

The city was spared in WWII, but one of its traditions suffered greatly – that of the geisha. The word translates as “person of the arts” and earliest geisha were actually men dedicated to dance, music and poetry. The female version of the geisha took hold in the 1760s/1770s and like the men, they were artists and erudite companions. During WWII, most women had to work for Japan, and geisha numbers dwindled dramatically – while there were over 80,000 in the 1920s, it is estimated that there are less than 2,000 today. Furthermore, prostitutes began calling themselves “geisha girls” to occupying soldiers, leading to the misconception by many Westerners that geisha is just the Japanese word for prostitute.

Nowadays, the geisha tradition still exists in the Gion district of Kyoto. They perform in exclusive teahouses and restaurants, and only for select wealthy customers – the fee for an evening of entertainment is upwards of $1000. It is impossible to enter a teahouse and spend the evening with geisha without being introduced by an established patron, but geisha performances can be seen at annual festivals or cultural presentations such as the daily ones at Gion Corner.

While a true geisha performance is out of reach for most tourists, there is a modern experience that is as Japanese as they come and very accessible – sleep in a capsule hotel. I was a bit concerned that it might feel like a coffin, but I wouldn’t pass up this quintessential Japanese experience. The pod turned out to feel more like a microwave, it was reasonably comfortable and included a “sleeping ambient system” that dims the lights as you go to sleep and brightens then up gradually as you awake. And as I woke up to brighter and brighter lights, I was actually waiting for my little microwave to beep, signaling that I was well done. The shower hours were also a huge novelty – to 25 a.m. on weekdays and 26 a.m. on weekends. Fantastic! Only the Japanese to miniaturize the day and squeeze more hours into it!

Jokes aside, Japan is a fascinating land, and Kyoto even more so – a sprawling maze where the futuristic and the ancient sometimes blend, sometimes clash, a place that will intrigue you, astound you, that will overwhelm you with its quirkiness but captivate you with its details. And, surprisingly, one that will let you find peace and tranquility amid all the hum.

War Games With Lil' Kim

S.Korea pics

“…confronted each other hostilely much like southern and northern halves of a partitioned nation”. This could very well have been written about contemporary North and South Korea, but it was actually penned in the early 8th century about the kingdoms of Shilla and Parhae that occupied the Korean peninsula, and were separated by a wall that ran from present-day Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea, in the west to the Sea of Japan in the east. Fast forward to the 21st century, and history repeats itself – the same peninsula cut in half by a Demilitarized Zone or DMZ.

The origins of the DMZ date back to WWII: it was a line drawn at the 38th parallel of Japanese-occupied Korea to mark the areas in which American and Soviet forces would receive Japanese surrender. The US viewed an occupation of Korea as crucial to the postwar stabilization of the Pacific, and set up a three-year military government below the 38th parallel while the Soviets did the same above it. By 1948, two separate republics existed and in mid-1950, the North invaded the South, igniting the Korean War. Three years and two million+ lost lives later, an armistice was reached that restored the old border and created the DMZ, a 2.5-mile wide buffer zone between the two Koreas, nowadays the most heavily militarized border in the world (the irony won’t be lost on anyone) and a major tourist attraction. It should be noted though that a formal peace treaty was never signed.

On the northern side of the DMZ is North Korea, the most isolated country in the world with less than 2,000 Western visitors per year, and where mobile phones and the internet are non-existent. The country is highly militarized, with a minimum 6-year military service for men, and ruled with an iron fist by the Kim dynasty with a vast propaganda machine that promotes a personality cult of the “Supreme Leader”, currently Kim Jong-il, or Lil’ Kim, as I call him. His official biography claims that his birth was foretold by a swallow and marked by the appearance of a double rainbow and a new star in the sky! No wonder Lil’ Kim’s ego is larger than a communist square. And like any other megalomaniac dictator, Lil’ Kim wants perennial power, thus the brinkmanship and nuclearization of the country.

Incidents between the two Koreas are nothing new, but the November 23rd attack on an insignificant South Korean island of some 1,300 inhabitants was one of the most serious recently. And it was not the first this year - in March, North Korea also sank a South Korean naval ship killing 46 soldiers. Many South Koreans think this is enough and support retaliation. The battle of words has started - the new South Korean defense minister said his country will respond with airstrikes if North Korea attacks again and joint US-South Korea military drills took place last week; North Korea warns that these drills could lead to an “all-out war any time”. The stage is set for escalation of hostilities…and one can only hope that Lil’ Kim is not as deranged as he seems to be.

The now divided Korean peninsula was first unified in 668 under the Shilla kingdom with its capital located in Gyeong-ju in the southeastern part of the country. The kingdom had close relations with the Tang dynasty in China and the heavy Chinese influence/alliance lasts to this day and can be seen from religion (Buddhism) to philosophy/ethics (Confucianism) to architecture and trade (China is South Korea’s largest trading partner). Korean historical buildings mirror many that exist in China and tend to follow the same style so unless you’re a history buff, there’s no need to visit lots of them. My favorite was Changdeok Palace in Seoul, not only because it looks recently restored but also because it is one of the largest and doesn’t feel crowded. Morning is the best time to visit as bus tours only hit the palace in the afternoon.

Less palace hopping means that you can do more of what planeloads of Japanese come to Seoul for – shopping. Options abound, including malls that operate from 10:20 am to 5:30 am (!), providing enough hours of retail therapy to cure any emotional malaise. Just don’t forget to bring earplugs lest nonstop insufferable Korean pop music drive you to mass murder. And fear not if you cannot spend hours in a mall – sellers also bring their wares (and voice amplifiers) into subway cars so you can do your shopping while you commute. This is what I call being productive!

But more bizarre than mobile merchants hawking their merchandise inside subway cars was what happened to me on the last day of the trip. On the spur of the moment I decided to visit Bongeunsa Temple in Seoul and as I was admiring the Buddhas, I suddenly bumped into Jónsi, singer of the Icelandic band Sigur Rós, who has spent most of this year touring with one of the best shows I’ve seen recently. The odds of a NY dweller running into an Icelander musician in an Asian city of 10.4 million people are virtually zero so here’s my question - why can’t I be as lucky with lottery numbers?!

Eternal Daylight Of My True Paradise

Iceland Summer Pics

Under ordinary circumstances, I’d never go to the same country twice in the same year. But there’s nothing ordinary about Iceland. I knew I’d be back one day…I just didn’t know it’d be so soon. All I can say is this - Iceland is full of surprises, and just like it sneaked into my travel plans earlier this year, it created perfect conditions for a summer trip.

When I left Iceland on March 28th, a small eruption on Fimmvörđuháls was sending cute white plumes up to the skies. It stopped on April 12th, and two days later on April 14th, Eyjafjallajökull decided to show the world what fire and ice can do. Many of my friends told me how lucky I was to have gotten out of Iceland before that, but it’s all a question of perspective: I actually felt very unlucky. And with every blast of ash it blew up in the air, I could picture little Eyjafjallajökull sneering at me with a “See what you’re missing?” Oh, how I wanted to strangle that unspeakable volcano!

Eyjafjallajökull did more than bring air travel to a halt and leave millions stranded; it made some people think that the whole country was blanketed in ash, causing a drop in the number of visitors. Lower demand equal lower prices, and if on one hand my little friend denied me its grand spectacle, it opened the door for my summer return.

Summer in Iceland is relative, though: with temperatures below 60˚F (15˚C), it is colder than winter in my hometown of Rio de Janeiro. When I still lived in Rio, I caught a headline once that named Iceland the country with the highest quality of life in the world, and I remember laughing because I found it unfathomable that a place that would feel like a refrigerator to me could offer any quality of life. But that is the beauty of travel: you learn to see things differently, and Iceland turned out to be like nothing I had envisioned.

Iceland has been called the “land that defies imagining” (National Geographic), the “land where nature always gets the last word” (The Geography of Bliss), a “magical epic land” (Lonely Planet). Iceland is all this, but no matter how much you read about it or how many photos you see, Iceland cannot really be described or depicted, it can only be experienced. No words or pictures will ever be able to capture a place that is fierce yet delicate, compact but seemingly vast, grand in a subtle way.

To me, Iceland is simply the most awe-inspiring country I have ever seen. Iceland is a work in progress, a place that breathes, heaves, gets transformed before your eyes (for instance, the country gained a new mountain in between my visits). Iceland is an experiment of nature, and all this changing and reshaping is contagious: Icelanders have a “let’s try it” attitude, and experiment with sounds, design, art, and can sometimes create truly unique and intriguing things.

And now that I’m back to my “normal” life, I miss Iceland a lot. I miss the endless daylight, the choir of countless birds at sunny midnights, the clean air, the sun that doesn’t burn, the clear streams that reflect the color of the sky. I miss the red traffic lights in Akureyri, almost all of them heart-shaped to remind people to “smile with your heart”. I miss being able to see for miles wherever I look. I miss getting sprayed by waterfalls, watching the weather change numerous times a day, getting awestruck by the scenery at almost every turn. But most of all, I miss a place that gives me the feeling that there are several open roads, both physical and metaphorical, ahead of me to be explored, a place that lifts the spirit, and makes me feel simply extraordinary.

Is Paradise Really There?

Bahamas Pics

The Bahamas comprises 29 islands, 661 cays and 2,387 islets, but its most well known piece of real estate is Paradise Island, home to the mega-resort Atlantis. What many don’t know is that the isle was once called Hog Island and used mostly for farming until it was purchased in 1960 by Huntington Hartford, the A&P supermarket heir, who gave the island its current name.

Paradise Island is only 4 miles (6.4 km) long and 0.5 miles (0.8 km) wide, and is dominated by Atlantis, the sprawling resort that is the most expensive place to stay in the Bahamas, occupies 97 acres, offers 2300 rooms in three different towers, and contains 20 million gallons of lagoons, pools, waterfalls and aquariums. Talk about gigantic.

But mammoth though as Atlantis is, I soon realized that something was missing, and it wasn’t an erupting volcano – it was character. Tourism accounts for about 50% of the Bahamian GDP, and of the two million plus tourists who come to New Providence Island every year (where Nassau, Cable Beach and Paradise Island are located), 85% come from the US. It shows…Atlantis feels a lot like a tropical Vegas, and I had to remind myself every now and then that I was in the Bahamas, not in the US.

Paradise to me is a place that inspires wonder, lifts the spirit, leaves you elated. While Paradise Island is an ingenious, well-executed endeavor that offers the ultimate in comfort, it feels so contrived, so artificial that it becomes faceless. Paradise Island didn’t make a memorable impression on me precisely because it tries too hard to be grand, and therefore fails to create a connection.

This is not to say that Paradise Island shouldn’t be visited. There are enough pools, slides, activities to give anyone hours of fun and thrills. So if you’re looking for a quick 3 or 4-day tropical escape near the US that won’t require a lot of planning, by all means, come to Paradise Island. But look elsewhere if you want authenticity. That I fortunately found in my June destination, a place of extraordinary character and charm. It is coming up next.

Gills, Trills & Thrills

Galapagos & Guayaquil

I’ve lost count of how many islands are called a paradise, a dream, happy, pure, etc, etc. But the Galápagos live up to its moniker of Enchanted Isles with its combination of varied landscapes, clear waters, tropical climate and, last but not least, unique fauna/flora. The latter has made Galápagos one of the most protected areas in the world and for good reason: half of its terrestrial and 1/5 of its marine species are found nowhere else on earth. The archipelago’s rise to fame came after Charles Darwin toured the islands for five weeks in 1835, and noted significant differences between plants and animals on the mainland and the various islands. His observations led him to wonder if species could adapt to a new environment over time, and for the following 25 years, Darwin developed his theory of evolution, driven by a process called natural selection. His book The Origin of the Species, published in 1859, was a sensation, and made Galápagos famous worldwide as a natural laboratory of evolution.

The Galápagos are a series of islands (13 major ones, 6 minor and over 40 islets) located 600 miles (965 km) west of mainland Ecuador that were formed four to five million years ago by eruptions of underwater volcanoes. The word volcano came like music to my ears, and since I missed the grand eruption of the now (in)famous Eyjafjallajökull, I actually did a volcano dance when I got to Isabela, one of the newest islands with 5 volcanoes, hoping that one of them would spit a little lava for my delight. But I’m a wanderer, not a dancer, and my clumsy dance screwed things up: a volcano did erupt, but near Quito, not in the Galápagos, causing the closure of a major airport and almost leaving me stranded.

The archipelago is home to 30,000 people over four inhabited islands and receives 180,000 tourists annually. Most visitors tour the islands on cruises that range from four days to three weeks, with the most popular lasting from four to eight days. To minimize human impact on the islands, all boats must include a certified naturalist guide trained by the National Park Service to help you better appreciate what you’re seeing and ensure rules are followed. Furthermore, tourists can only access official visitor sites, and the number of visitors on each site is capped at any point in time. While these rules may seem restrictive at first, they do contribute to conservation efforts and I ended up liking them because it meant that there wouldn’t be throngs everywhere I went, making the visits much more enjoyable.

And there’s much to enjoy. The biggest attraction in the Galápagos is wildlife, of course, and animals in general have lost all fear of humans, letting us get really close. I could barely contain my excitement, and seeing them just a few feet away made me do totally counterintuitive things, like chase a shark (cue “Jaws” theme and horrified shrieks). For my life’s sake, it wasn’t a great white, but rather a white tipped reef shark, usually no bigger than 6 feet, and friendly like all Galápagos wildlife – they normally don’t go after people.

If you read my Barbados snorkeling (mis)adventure last year, you know that I swallowed more water than saw marine life, and I was a bit worried because this trip included daily snorkeling activities. But aside from not putting enough sunscream (as some local stores describe it) and getting my back looking like burned toast, everything went smooth this time, and I was even let in on the high-tech secret to keeping your mask fog-free: spit in it. Very charming. I must be saliva-deficient and just couldn’t do it so my mask was always foggy, but even then, I saw a lot: schools of fish all around, stingrays gliding underneath, turtles swimming so close that many times I almost crashed into them, wondering in terror if they’d bite me if I did.

And sea lions, the so-called golden retrievers of the Galápagos. They’re usually found on beaches or rocky shores, and if I have a choice, in my next life I want to be a sea lion on Gardner Bay in the island of Española: no predators, a white sand beach to laze the day away, and turquoise waters to take a dip in when I get tired of basking in the sun. They sleep so much that I wished I had an alarm clock to get them to at least open their eyes.

Sea lions in the Galápagos don’t mind people at all, and it’s always love at first sight because you can’t help but be captivated by such a trusting animal. And if on land they look like a barking yucca root that grew flippers, in the water they are graceful, agile and playful. When I snorkeled among them, at times they’d come out of nowhere, and head straight towards me as though they were going to crash into my face, only to swerve just inches away from me, then swim around right side up, upside down, round and round, and spinning down. Their antics made me laugh, and, of course, almost drown with all the seawater I swallowed while laughing.

The Galápagos are also a bird watcher’s paradise, especially in Punta Suárez in Española, and the island of North Seymour. Blue-footed boobies are arguably the most famous bird species in the archipelago, not only due to their bright blue feet, but also their strange mating dance, in which the male moves like he’s stepping on eggs to show off his blue feet, stopping every now and then to whistle and boast his wing span to the female. Watch it in this video by National Geographic.



But the Mating Dance Oddity Award goes to the magnificent frigatebird: to attract females, males inflate a bright red pouch on their chest, and when a female flies by, they trill and shake their body all over like a drag queen in a Rio carnaval party. Watch it in this video by Nihoa



But while all this may sound fun and heavenly, reality is not so rosy – native species are threatened by habitat loss, overfishing, non-native species (such as domestic animals), and climate changes. 50% of the Galápagos flora and fauna species are currently threatened or endangered mostly as a result of human actions. The Galápagos National Park has several programs to prevent further habitat deterioration, but they can’t tackle all the issues. It is up to each of us to minimize our impact on other species, not only in Galápagos but everywhere we go, and make sure they continue to play a role in our planet.

Steamy Affair

Iceland

Two days before my trip, a volcano that had been dormant since the 1820s erupted in Iceland and all airports were closed. One day before my flight, local air mechanics went on strike and again air travel was disrupted. I started to think that the Viking Gods wanted to foil my trip so when I finally landed in Iceland and headed for my first outing, I felt so happy that I almost jumped out of the hotel lobby like a frolicking gazelle…only to be almost knocked down to the ground, not by a greedy mugger, not by a flock of territorial geese, but by the wind. It makes NYC wintry gusts feel like a gentle fall breeze, and while it kept blowing and forcing me to walk like a drunk, the question crept into my mind – what kind of lunatic would come here outside summer?

The Vikings were certainly tough (or crazy) enough to tackle this environment: they and their Celtic slaves were the first permanent settlers in 874. Isolated for centuries and highly dependent on fishing and agriculture, Iceland was one of the poorest countries in Europe, but experienced substantial growth after its independence in 1944 thanks to Marshall aid and diversification into activities such as services, technology and finance. Nowadays, Iceland is highly developed, ranks 3rd in the latest UN Human Development Index, and boasts one of the highest literacy (99%) and internet penetration (93%) rates in the world. But I bet they wished they had remained isolated when the global crisis hit in late 2008…

Formed by eruptions some 20 million years ago, Iceland has 130 volcanic mountains, of which 15 to 20 active ones continue to shape the landscape. Its volcanoes are so active that an eruption takes place every four to five years, and Iceland has produced 1/3 of the world’s lava output over the past 1,000 years. All this activity is due to Iceland’s unique position: it sits on a hotspot and is cut from southwest to northeast by the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, the boundary between the Eurasian and North American plates that are separating at a rate of 1 in. (2.5 cm) per year.

The most famous volcano in the country is Hekla, known as the “Gateway to Hell” in the Middle Ages. But Hekla is not the most feared; that distinction goes to Katla, which sits underneath a glacier and erupts once or twice every century, the last time in 1918. Its magma chamber is currently full and the recent eruption nearby brought fears that it will trigger Katla. Besides ash clouds that could block solar rays and cause a global cooling, a Katla eruption would melt the glacier and could create a flood discharge larger than the combined flow of the Amazon, Mississippi, Nile and Yangtze rivers.

If on one hand this geological turbulence makes Iceland one of the most unstable places on earth, it gives them cheap geothermal energy: the average electricity/hot water bill is only €35-40 per month. Geothermal waters abound in Iceland, and have become an essential part of the culture: there are close to 200 thermal pools in the country, and the most famous is the Blue Lagoon, a saltwater spa with balmy 104°F (40°C) waters filled with algae, silica and minerals. The first thing I noticed when I got there was the smell of sulphur, and I thought right away that I was in Hekla, the Gateway to Hell. But once I sunk in those incredible clear waters, every muscle in my body loosened up, it felt like heaven, and it was such an experience to be in frigid outdoors wrapped in steaming water that I actually wished it’d snow to make it even more unique. In the end, smelling of sulphur, with algae on my hair and silica mud mask on my face, I probably looked like the deranged child of a Medusa-Joker union…but the Blue Lagoon is an absolute must.

Geysers, hot springs and mud pools are other byproducts of this geothermal power, and in Iceland, you can actually get close to Geysir, the original after which all others were named. Geysir used to blow water 260 ft (80 m) up in the air until some stupid tourists threw rocks and clogged it in the 1950s. It began erupting again after an earthquake in 2000, but not to its former height. It’s hard to see Geysir in action - it only blows 2 or 3 times daily, but Strokkur, its neighbor, bursts every 5 minutes or so.

If fire created Iceland, ice is what made it famous – glaciers cover 11% of the country, and a popular tourist activity is a glacier hike. I picked one that included a bit of ice climbing, and I have to say, the preparations were a pain: you need a harness, a helmet, crampons and an ice axe. It was exhausting putting on all that gear, and when I actually saw the group with those piercing steel crampons and axes, I couldn’t help but think that it would be the perfect beginning for “Saw XIII - Glacial Feast”. Anyway, the crampons were straightforward: we just had to stomp like cavemen. Piece of cake. Ice climbing sounded easy too - stick the axes and the tips of the crampons in, and up you go. But I guess people like me who’ve only seen ice in drinks were not meant to tackle a frozen wall – I only made it to the top after a lot of slipping and ice scraping, and my only consolation is that nobody I know was there to witness my crippled gecko act.

A less strenuous activity is looking for the Northern Lights. Sightings are not guaranteed but our guide assured us from the start – “We’ll find them, don’t worry. I’ll keep my eyes on the sky”. And while I prayed that he didn’t crash while keeping his eyes on the sky, he suddenly stopped the van and yelled “Northern Lights ahead!” We all dashed out, looked up and for a moment I thought he had just had a supersized cup of mushroom tea. The sky looked black! “There they are!”, he said, pointing at what looked like a streak of fading clouds. It was indescribably underwhelming, but I decided to take a picture anyway. And when I saw the photo, I could barely believe my eyes: there it was, a serpent of bright green light (check the woefully blurry picture that looks taken during an earthquake). So when it comes to Northern Lights, your camera, not your eye, is the one that’s going to see it; take an SLR (not a point & shoot), a tripod (very, very, very important), and leave the shutter open at least 15 seconds.

One thing you can only do in Iceland is travel by super jeep, a 4x4 on steroids that can conquer streams, ice, and snow. I joined a tour that took me to Langjökull, the second largest glacier in Iceland at 390 sq. miles (1,000 sq. km), and as my luck would have it, when we got there, the temperature was 16˚F (-10˚C), it was snowing, glacial winds were blowing. As I stood on 16 ft (5 m) of snow in a perfect whiteout, snow whipping my face, no sound other than the wind, that vast glacial desert felt incredibly peaceful, and I was reminded that the most memorable moments in life are not those under perfect conditions, but those with the most spectacular surprises.

In the end, I got the answer to my question: the lunatics that come here are those who want to escape their daily madness and experience one of nature’s masterpieces, a place of dramatic extremes, stark contrasts and endless beauty. A place that awes, captivates and reminds you that there’s a lot more to life than the daily grind.

Wild Venice Of The Swamps

South Florida

Fort Lauderdale is called the Venice of America, but before anyone starts gloating over that, let me say that there are over a dozen cities around the world known as the “Venice of Somewhere”. Venice of the North alone can refer to any of these cities: Amsterdam, Birmingham, Borås, Bornholm, Bruges, Copenhagen, Giethoorn, Haapsalu (and if you know where that is, you should be on a game show), Hamburg, Manchester, Maryhill, St. Petersburg, Stockholm, Trondheim or Wroclaw. And let’s not forget Bangkok, Venice of the East, or Recife, Venice of Brazil (a real stretch). Seriously, shouldn’t Venice be getting royalties from all these “sister” cities?

At least Fort Lauderdale boasts 300 miles of waterways and canals, so I guess the moniker is deserved. But canals are not the only thing that Fort Lauderdale has in common with Venice: the other is decadence. The Carnival of Venice was so decadent that over the centuries numerous laws were enacted to restrict celebrations, including a ban on the wearing of masks, which protected the wearer’s identity while engaging in promiscuous activities. Fort Lauderdale, on the other hand, is still known as the spring break capital of America even though the number of spring breakers is now nowhere near the 350k that once swarmed the city.

Spring break is still a few weeks away, but I did see wild things down there. The weather was horrible on the first day, so we chose to go to the Everglades and ended up doing something shamelessly touristy: taking an airboat ride in search of alligators. I was warned that they can jump, but figured that the chances of an alligator sprinting out of the water and landing on the airboat to make a meal out of bony me were pretty slim. I did see a couple alligators and they were lounging so still that you'd think they were made of stone. To be honest, I was more afraid of some campers I saw there: wearing camouflage clothing and carrying machetes, I wasn’t sure if they were hunting for local delicacies such as gator tails and frog legs, auditioning for the movie “Machete” or going to serial killer training camp. Anyway, if I were forced to choose between the alligators and the camouflaged macheted campers, I’d take the former. At least I know what they’re about.

Blood, Baths And Granny's Swimsuits

Hungary

Hungary gets its name from the Huns, nomads who settled briefly in the area under the leadership of the legendary Attila, who eventually headed an empire that stretched from Germany to the Ural River in Russia and from the Danube to the Baltic Sea. Called the Scourge of God by the Romans, he was one of their most feared enemies, and is to this day remembered in Western Europe as a cruel warrior who devastated and plundered anything in his path. For Hungarians and Turks, though, Attila is revered as a hero and described as a great and noble king. Mighty though as he was, his death was quite embarrassing: he drunk heavily on the night of his wedding, suffered a massive nosebleed and choked on his own blood (!) This “nosebleed” was likely due to rupture of the esophageal varices, a major cause of death for chronic drinkers where victims drown in their own blood. I know this sounds like I swallowed a medical encyclopedia, so for laypeople, let’s just call it gross.

The Hun empire crumbled after Attila’s death in the 5th century, and several tribes tried unsuccessfully to secure a foothold in the region. Finally towards the end of the 9th century, Magyar tribes settled in the area and after converting to Christianity, founded the Hungarian state in 1000. It became a powerful kingdom that included present-day Hungary, Slovakia, Croatia, Transylvania (now in Romania) and Transcarpathia (now in Ukraine). Defeat to the Ottomans in the 16th century led to the breakup of the empire between the ever-present Habsburgs and the Ottomans. The former expelled the latter in the 17th century, but the Austro-Hungarian defeat in WWI saw Hungary losing more than 2/3 of its former territory. The country sided with Nazi Germany in hopes of recovering lost lands only to fall into communist hands post-WWII.

For a good part of the nation’s history, Buda was its capital and Budapest today is the result of the union of three cities that grew together: Buda, west of the Danube, Óbuda to the north and Pest to the east of the Danube. Buda and Pest have very different characters: Buda covers about 1/3 of the capital, and is mostly wooded, hilly and residential; Pest comprises 2/3 of Budapest’s territory, and is flat and commercial. In Pest you’ll find the Parliament, perhaps the most well known building in the city, most hotels, bars, restaurants, and pedestrian streets lined with stores. In Buda, as you’d expect in any ancient city with a hill, you’ll find Buda Castle and right by its side, Fishermen’s Bastion, both a must on any visit to Budapest.

Buda Castle may appear bland at first when you see it from Pest, but just walk into its main courtyard and your jaw will drop. There are amazing sculptures and if you wait until dark, you’ll get a chance to see the castle in one of the best lighting jobs I’ve ever seen: a mix of yellow and white lights that give it depth, enhance contrast and seem to make it larger. Fishermen’s Bastion is a terrace with seven towers, each representing the seven Magyar tribes that settled in the Carpathian Basin. The terrace will surprise you with its many nooks and cranes, and one detail that can easily go unnoticed – look closely at the columns and you’ll see that each pair has a unique design.

If pigging out is your thing, Hungary is the place to be. At a traditional Hungarian restaurant, you’ll be amazed not only by how exotic but also by how large the dishes are. Fried pork liver, baked goose, beef steaks the size of pizzas, crispy leg of pork, lung in sour sauce, pasta dishes that look like erupting volcanoes. And as I looked at all that, my only thought was “God, I’m gonna starve!” There weren’t many vegetarian options, and the few I could find almost always involved oil, loads of it. Fried aubergine, fried zucchini, deep fried mushrooms, deep fried cheese. I didn’t go hungry, but by the time I left Hungary, I had so many zits that my face looked like the Himalayan chain.

But if it had occurred to me to bring a bikini to my winter vacation, I might have taken care of my zits right there at an authentic Hungarian thermal spa. Thermal baths are part of Hungarian culture, have existed since Roman times, and are said to treat a variety of ailments such as aches, skin diseases, diabetes, rheumatism, circulatory problems and the list goes on. We came across Széchenyi Baths in City Park, which happens to be the largest spa complex in Europe, and offers a variety of services that include aqua aerobics, body toning, massage, manicure, pedicure, infra sauna and even consultation with a bath physician. I was very tempted to take a dip when I saw those blue steaming pools, and the truth is that I could have - there were actually bathing suits for rent. But even if the idea of renting a bathing suit didn’t freak me out, I would never be caught dead in one of those vintage models that would only look hip on my great-great-great-grandmother.

Gothic Ghosts

Czech Republic and Slovakia

November 2009 marked the 20th anniversary of the fall of communism, and since then, the Czech Republic has become one of the most stable and prosperous countries of the former communist bloc. The origins of the Czech state can be traced back to the 9th century when it emerged as the kingdom of Bohemia but for most of their history, Czechs were under foreign dominion: from 1526, Bohemia was under Habsburg control until the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian empire after WWI led to the creation of the Republic of Czechoslovakia. Independence was short-lived though as the country was occupied by Nazis in 1939. German occupation ended in 1945, but in 1948, the Soviets backed a coup d’état that established an all-communist government that would lead the country for the next 41 years. With the fall of communism in 1989, Czechoslovakia embraced democracy, but Slovak national aspirations grew until the country peacefully split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia.

Prague, the Czech Republic’s capital, is deservedly one of the world’s most popular tourist destinations. You can’t help but become enchanted by the city – its cobbled streets lined with pastel buildings, its churches and bridges in varying styles, its horse-drawn carriages make Prague a quintessential fairy-tale city with hardly a rival in the world. Prague has been called “The Mother of Cities”, “The Golden City” and “City of A Hundred Spires”, but I’m surprised it’s never been called “City of A Hundred Bridges” since it reputedly has more than 300 of them. Undoubtedly, the Charles Bridge is the most famous, built in the 14th century and at the time the only crossing between the Old Town and Prague Castle. The bridge is flanked by three towers in gothic style and dotted with 30 baroque statues representing saints, all of them looking duly pious and martyred, though somewhat soot-black.

Throughout its 650+ year history, the bridge has withstood floods, wars, cannonades, and some say that the bridge’s longevity has to do with the laying of its foundation stone. Legend has it that King Charles IV had royal astrologers and numerologists determine the most auspicious moment, which turned out to be in 1357 on the 9th day of the 7th month at 5:31 am. This moment is written as 135797531, a sequence of ascending and descending odd digits, believed to be a magical combination that protects the bridge (cue Harry Potter theme song).

That’s not the only myth associated with the bridge. The most famous statue there is that of John of Nepomuk, a vicar and the confessor of the queen of Bohemia. The king, suspecting that his queen had a lover, ordered John to reveal her confessions. When the vicar refused, the king had him tortured and thrown into the river. There is now a small cross on that spot, and supposedly if you touch it and make a wish, it will come true within a year and one day, by which time, of course, you’ll have completely forgotten that you ever did this.

One of Prague’s most iconic symbols soars over the city – Prague Castle, the biggest ancient castle in the world, with an area of ~750,000 sq. ft. (~70,000 sq. meters). Founded in the 9th century, the castle includes palaces and ecclesiastical buildings that span every architectural style of the past millennium. The most prominent structure is the gothic St Vitus Cathedral, the tallest in the complex. Now, I did mention in the Milan post that God, the Overachiever, must have pulled His hair out watching the 579-year construction of the Duomo. Amazingly, St. Vitus took even longer: construction began in 1344 and did not end until 1929, merely 585 years later. I have two hypotheses: either all these gothic architects and engineers were a bunch of feet draggers or their bosses didn’t know what they wanted and kept changing their minds. Which one do you think it was?

There’s a legend surrounding Prague Castle too: it is said that any usurper who places the Crown of Saint Wenceslas on his head will die within a year. During the Nazi occupation, Reinhard Heydrich was named the Reich Protector of Bohemia and Moravia and made Prague Castle his headquarters. Rumor has it that he placed the Bohemian crown on his head, and, lo and behold, he was assassinated less than a year later (cue horror theme).

On the other side of the river, the Old Town (Staré Mĕsto) is a tourist hub. It is Prague’s historic core dating from the 9th century, centered on the Old Town Square. Its most popular feature is the Astronomical Clock, which attracts crowds with the parade of characters that glide by as the clock strikes the hour: the Twelve Apostles and the “evils” of life per 15th century –Vanity, Greed, Death and Lust. To be honest, I find the “parade” very underwhelming but throngs gather to watch it every hour so feel free to join. Just don’t forget to check the most interesting piece, which is the clock itself, showing not only the time, but also the month, the zodiac, and the positions of sun and moon. I found it way more appealing than the “parade”.

As you’d expect, there’s a legend associated with the clock: rumor has it that the nice people of the Municipal Council gouged clock artist Hanus’s eyes to prevent him from making a similar one elsewhere. Hanus then threw himself into the clock mechanism and died, after which the clock stopped working and remained out of order for almost a century (cue ghastly ghost sounds). With stories like that, it’s no wonder that Prague is known as the most haunted city in the world!

The Bronx Rises Again

Out of sheer chance, I ended up visiting Slovenia and Slovakia in the same year, probably the two countries that people confuse the most. To recap, Slovenia was part of Yugoslavia and its independence came after a 10-day standoff that could have ended up in war; Slovakia was part of Czechoslovakia and its independence came when the federation split peacefully at the beginning of 1993. Like the Czech Republic, Slovakia was under foreign rule for most of its existence: first, the Hungarians from the 10th century, then the omnipresent Habsburgs before joining Czechoslovakia after WWI, and falling into communist hands after WWII.

Slovakia promotes itself as “Little Big Country” and little it is: the country’s maximum length is 265 miles (~428 km) and its maximum width is 121 miles (~195 km). The Western Carpathian Mountains cover most of the country’s territory and forests account for almost 40% of its land, making Slovakia a good destination for hiking, skiing or rock climbing. I’d have checked some of Slovakia’s nine national parks but freezing my butt outdoors in winter is not my idea of a fun vacation so I stuck to the capital Bratislava, a compact city whose main sights can be seen on a single day. We ended up staying 3 days, however, thanks to the hospitality of our friends Barbara and Joachim, who welcomed us like family and made it hard for us to leave.

Bratislava is the only capital in the world to border two countries: Austria to the west and Hungary to the south. It is less than 37 miles (60 km) from Vienna, making them the two closest capitals in Europe. They are sometimes erroneously named the two closest capitals in the world, but that title actually goes to Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Brazzaville in the Republic of the Congo, only 1 mile (1.6 km) apart.

Bratislava straddles the Danube, with one bank nestling the medieval inner city and the other reflecting the communist years. The historic Old Town contains the typical winding streets and ancient buildings, and its main attraction is Bratislava Castle on a hill above the Danube, from where there are great views of the city, both old and new.

The castle is not the most photographed attraction in Bratislava, however; reputedly, it is a bronze statue of a man peeping out of a manhole, known as Cumil (The Watcher), one of a few quirky statues put in place to enliven the city. He has his own “Man At Work” sign, and you can only imagine it’s some kind of joke about the way things used to work under communism…except that he wouldn’t be smiling.

Speaking of which, communism left a heavy imprint on Bratislava: almost 25% of the Old Town was razed to make way for a bridge connecting the old to the new part of town. The bridge opened in 1972, and became known as the UFO Bridge because it looks like a flying saucer parked there. The spaceship is actually an observation deck cum bar/restaurant and according to its website “In 45 seconds lift will take you from ground level to the point “wow”. In hight of 95 metres and with visibility upto 100 km unique experience can start.” Desperately needed: a good marketeer and someone who can spell English.

The communist and English-challenged bridge leads to another communist legacy: Petržalka, a concrete gray housing monstrosity that seemed to be all the rage among tasteless communist planners. 115,000 people (~25% of Bratislava’s population) live there, and the complex used to be called the Bronx of Bratislava due to the high crime rate and drug dealing. Statistics indicate that the crime rate now is at the same levels as other boroughs’, and some of the buildings got a colorful paint job to make them less gloomy. So will the Bronx of Bratislava shed its shady past? Time will tell. All I can say is that I avoided Petržalka like the plague.

Bluer Than...Green

Austria

Vienna gave us a most polar welcome. At 16˚F (-9˚C), as icicles formed on my eyelashes, as my fingers, toes and face went numb, as my teeth chattered, there was only one thing I could think of: where is global warming when you need it?!

Despite this polar ordeal, “There is only one imperial city – there is only one Vienna”, as Johann Strauss said. Inevitably when you set foot there, you will think of his The Blue Danube. As you go through the city streets, eagerly anticipating your first glimpse of the river that inspired such a celebrated piece, you almost wish you could waltz your way down, twirling without a care in the world. And as you continue on your imaginary waltz, before you know it you arrive almost breathless at the river with its waters of a remarkable murky green. Murky green?! Did Strauss smoke something? Was he into deceptive advertising? Or was the Danube really blue in 1866, and in the years since pollution, acid rain, urban runoff, global warming, you name it, have unblued the Danube? I may never know, but I’m not the only one obsessed with its color: someone in Vienna spent one year watching the Danube, and concluded that it was green 255 days, gray 60 days, yellow 40 days, brown 10 days and not once blue. But whatever its color, the Danube has historically been one of the most important rivers in Europe: it was the northern boundary of the Roman Empire and a key trade route in medieval times, giving rise to several trade and transportation centers along its shores, including Vienna.

Vienna was at the heart of the Habsburg Empire, one of the most powerful European dynasties that ruled for over 600 years and that, at one time or another, included Austria, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, and parts of Italy, Poland and Romania. Perhaps the most well known member of the Habsburg House was Franz Ferdinand, not the Scottish rock band, but the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne whose assassination in Serbia in 1914 precipitated World War I and the fall of the Habsburgs. Franz Ferdinand was an avid hunter and is said to have made some 300,000 kills, 100,000 of which are on display at his former castle one hour outside Prague. How tasteful! Ironically, he was killed by a bullet that pierced his jugular. Coincidence or karma?

The empire may be gone, but Vienna retains the imperial aura in its splendid and varied architecture, its palaces, its museums filled with treasures. The main area of interest is the old town, called Innere Stadt and encircled by Ringstraβe, a series of boulevards built where the old city walls stood. It is not only the historic heart of the city, but also its administrative, political and cultural center, housing the parliament, the city hall, the Vienna State Opera, the Imperial Court Theatre, a number of museums, the Hofburg Imperial Palace (the Habsburgs’ winter quarters and now the official residence of the President) and Stephansdom, or St. Stephen’s Cathedral, a Gothic structure that is one of the city’s main landmarks. If you’re into the creepy, you can visit the cathedral’s catacombs where you’ll find internal organs of former Habsburg rulers. How tasteful!

But rich in attractions as Innere Stadt is, the most visited place in Austria is Schönbrunn Palace, the former summer residence of the Habsburgs, less than 5 miles (~7.5 km) from St Stephen’s. The palace contains 1,441 rooms, and not only do I get exhausted thinking of the size of the whole thing, but I also picture myself getting lost inside, perishing and having my carcass found decades later. Maybe they’d even hang my skeleton under a “Dead Lost” exhibit (Austrians are reputedly fascinated with death…) but that’s not how I want my 15 minutes of fame. So fortunately for the survival of tourists, you can only visit 22 rooms if you take the Imperial Tour or 40 with the Grand Tour. Get there early and try to avoid weekends because the place gets packed to the gills. I myself prefer the gardens, free and much less crowded.

Vienna remains imperial even for mundane things such as Christmas celebrations. Graben, the main pedestrian street in Innere Stadt, was decorated with huge chandeliers that made me think I was in a palatial ballroom, and I’m sure I’d have felt like royalty if I weren’t shivering so much. There’s street caroling worthy of regal ears, and, throughout town, Christmas markets, not imperial in the least, but very crowd-pleasing. These street markets originated in the Middle Ages, and the ones in Vienna date back to 1294. Nowadays there are almost a dozen of them around town, the largest (and most commercial) in front of City Hall, where kids can meet Santa Claus, courtesy of Coca-Cola (right, catch them when they’re young…). They all sell seasonal items, food and drinks, particularly Glühwein (mulled wine served steaming hot). If you know me, you know I don’t drink, but I was so desperately cold that I started to down Glühwein like water to keep myself warm. So the world started to spin a little, and not from any waltzing I was doing…I hope.

The Hills Are Alive...With The Sight Of Pigs

The mountains, the baroque buildings, the countless steeples. But there was one thing that was ubiquitous in Salzburg - pigs. Sausages on every food stall, ham virtually on every dish, plush toy pigs, pig keychains, hats shaped like pigs, pig T-shirts, bread and sweets in the shape of pigs. Had I accidentally fallen into a pigsty? What was that about? In times of war, people didn’t have much to eat, and families with pigs were considered fortunate because they wouldn’t starve. Therefore pigs in Austria became a symbol of good luck, and are seen everywhere around New Year. I’m not sure pigs themselves would agree: besides having their image exploited royalty-free, they get slaughtered. If I were a pig, I’d stage a revolt à la “Animal Farm” and really take over Salzburg. Power to the piggies!

With so many pig symbols, you’d think Salzburg owes its existence to pig farming, but it was actually the mining of salt, a valuable commodity and at one point called “white gold”, that put Salzburg on the map. Salt was so important to Salzburg that it even gave the town its name, which translates as Salt Castle. But Salzburg is more often associated with music and its most famous son is Mozart.

Mozart needs no introduction. The man was a musical genius – he started composing at 5, wrote over 600 pieces during his short 34-year life and was able to write down entire scores from memory after hearing them only once. He was born and lived in Salzburg until 24, but left as soon as he could because he earned little as a court musician and didn’t have many opportunities to compose what he wanted. Salzburg may have been a bad fit for him, but the town idolizes him in every possible way. There’s the Mozart birthplace, the house where Mozart grew up, and, more than anything else, the Mozart chocolate. On every supermarket, grocery store, souvenir shop, food stall there it is - his face on countless chocolate boxes. I’m sure Mozart wanted to be remembered; I’m not sure though that he’d have wanted to become a chocolate poster boy.

Music also put Salzburg in the spotlight in the 20th century – namely the movie The Sound of Music, which tells the story of the Trapp singing family who fled the Nazis and went to the U.S. in the late 1930s. The real Maria von Trapp sold the story rights to Hollywood for a mere US$9,000 but when she actually saw the movie, she got really upset with all the inaccuracies and was going to denounce it. 20th Century Fox then offered her US$900,000 and she was upset no more.

Austrians don’t seem too fond of the movie either, but the truth is that the most popular tours in Salzburg are those that take you to some of the movie’s locations. They sounded cheesy to me, but I joined one with Panorama Tours anyway and was glad I did because Peter, our guide, was excellent and made me laugh almost all the way through by making fun of all the absurdities in the movie. Plus, we got lucky with the weather and were able to see some beautiful scenery along the way.

And to prove that Salzburg is not only about music of ages past, one of the holiday events was a free rock concert at one of the town’s squares. The band played covers for 2.5 hours and closed the show with a song by…Abba! And after watching them, it became blatantly clear why there is no famous Austrian rock band.