Melbourne in summer: Beachside in St Kilda

The iconic pier in St Kilda, Melbourne

I was having dinner with my gorgeous goddaughters, 8 and 10, and their mum so we went to the Stokehouse, a cafe/restaurant right next to the beach. This place is great for kids; they can play on the beach just outside and still be in sight, while we catch up on a year’s worth of gossip. After dinner, we went for a walk, avoiding bikes and rollerbladers on the path, watched the sunset over Port Phillip Bay while ships headed up the bay and the Spirit of Tasmania ferry left for its night crossing of Bass Strait to Hobart. Perfect.

St Kilda is Melbourne’s beachside hub: beaches, cafes, shops, cakes, pubs, nightlife. A couple of favourite places: the Galleon Café, great coffee and full of locals, and the Esplanade Hotel, for a beer watching the sunset over the bay, full of backpackers.

Melbourne in summer: Marios in Brunswick Street

The other side of the town is more sticky-black tarmac than sand and seagulls. I was catching up with a friend I used to go to writing school with. Where else would I go but inner-city Fitzroy? Brunswick Street is for clothes shopping and bar hopping. Marios has been a Melbourne institution for years, run by two guys called Mario (surprisingly). The waiters are cheeky, the service fast and efficient, the food good and reliable, the coffee serious: no decaf here.

Next door is the Brunswick Street Bookstore, which has one of the best selections of books in town (confession: I used to work there). Further down the street is Scally and Trombone, which has Melbourne’s best (costume) jewellery, bags and hats. Accessorising is everything!

Melbourne in summer: Shopping the city’s laneways

I had a friend fly in from New Zealand so I took him to my favourite city laneway: Centre Place between Flinders Lane and Collins Street. For a very short lane, it’s full of an impressive number of boutiques and hole in the wall cafes. I indulged a passion for trying on clothes. He bought a very stylish, unusual designer watch. Melbourne has great young (and established) designers.

In the past few years, Melbourne has rediscovered the laneways that connect the main streets of the central business district. Now the best bars are found down the dark alleys, past the bins and through the little doorways. Sometimes it can be a bit of a climb up old wooden stairways but the bars are worth it. This year there was a Laneways music festival and the turnout was so huge that most people got nowhere near seeing the performers. Outrage ensued. This is the problem with Melbournites – we’re enthusiastic and turn out in unexpected droves for supposedly small events. (Many years ago, the photographer Spencer Tunick came to Melbourne to photograph anyone brave enough to get nude on the main street of the city at dawn; 4,000 people took their clothes off – he was expecting a few hundred.)

Melbourne in summer: National Gallery of Victoria

My sister and I decided to have a cultural Saturday. We walked between Federation Square, the National Gallery and the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art. Melbourne is the culture centre of Australia (oooh, hear the other cities yell at me), especially for visual arts. The opening of Federation Square really pushed Melbourne into this century and the Ian Potter Gallery is fantastic, so is ACMI, the museum of the moving image.

Fed Square also has great food and drink. It was the first time I’d been to the National Gallery of Victoria in probably 10 years and, boy, has it changed. What used to be a bit of a fortress is opened right up inside. Now you can walk in the front doors – past the fabulous wall of water – straight through to the big central hall (where you definitely must lie on the floor and stare at the stained glass ceiling), then through the back doors into the sculpture garden. Great bookshop, great exhibitions. I was really impressed.

Melbourne in summer: The Botanical Gardens

I filled a hamper and headed to Melbourne’s biggest and best park, the Botanical Gardens: full of ponds, faux temples, and home to a colony of bats. Under a huge tree near the duck pond I met a bunch of ex-colleagues. Around us people played Frisbee and tried to spot eels in the pond. A couple of tutu-clad fairies approached from a nearby kids’ party and offered us cake. As the sun set, people carrying chairs and blankets started flooding by on their way to the Moonlight Cinema. But for us, the security guard gave our marching orders as dark fell and the gates were closed for the night.

Melbourne in summer: Riding the trams

Melbourne’s trams rattle along in the middle of the road, holding up traffic and forcing people to risk life and limb getting on and off them across the lane of traffic. Since coming to Europe, I have realised it would have been much more sensible to put the tracks on the edge of the road, next to the sidewalk but, too late now.

Take a ride on a Melbourne tram

Anyway, they are still a Melbourne institution. I love the trams; they signify home to me. There’s even a restaurant tram that glides down to the beach and back up to the city a few times a night. But I didn’t manage to go on it this time. Instead it was hopping on and off various lines to get from coffee appointment to art assignation. One of my favourite lines is the Number 8 – I caught it to school every day as a child and now they’ve extended it. It crosses the city from the affluent inner east, past the Botanical Gardens and up the boulevard of St Kilda Road, right through the centre, past the university and out to the working class north. A good way to see many faces of Melbourne. I had a friend who used to spend the weekends just riding the trams and the trains to explore his hometown – good plan, but I didn’t have time. Not this trip. (If you like Melbourne trams, check out this ode to the #96.)

Melbourne in summer: Japanese Bath House

I love relaxing in water – everyone knows that about me. The Japanese Bath House in Melbourne is one of the places I miss most. It’s tucked away in an industrial street in inner Collingwood. I was catching up with a really close girlfriend so what better place to do it? Soak away our cares and talk our heads off. Although the water is so hot that after a while, the talking stops. It starts again lying on the tatami mats in little pyjama suits sipping green tea, or saki. Only a place to be visited with your nearest and dearest as it’s all nude. But I would never miss it on a trip to Melbourne.

Melbourne in summer: CERES Community Environment Park, Brunswick

It’s always difficult finding a place you can catch up with friends who have young children. Somewhere that the coffee is good, the atmosphere relaxed, time is not an object and no one is going to get upset by a bit of noise and energetic play. In Melbourne, it’s CERES. This place is wonderful. It’s all about sustainability and has animals and vegetable gardens, an organic market and harvest festival, plus a playground near the café that, unsurprisingly, has parents and prams everywhere.

Melbourne in summer: Alannah Hill/Revival Outlet store

I had to go to a meeting. In Fitzroy, near Brunswick Street. And I admit, I fell into temptation. The shopping around there is so good. And this one huge warehouse-style shop of designer clothes is such an Aladdin’s Cave that I have to go there every time I’m in Melbourne. As usual I did not walk out empty handed. Don’t tell anyone.

Melbourne in summer: Riding a bike bayside

I don’t have a bike. And I’m not getting on one of those dangerous looking racing things my nephew owns. So, he did the early morning ride along with many others in lycra, and I greeted him with breakfast in a café in the bayside suburb of Black Rock. For those people lucky enough to live near the water in Melbourne, this is a bit of a weekend ritual. Melbourne has great bike paths, especially along the river and beside the bay. You can ride for miles and explore lots of the little beaches and coves. Apparently, it’s gorgeous. I did once rollerblade the bayside path – it did not turn out well.

-Philippa Burne

Planning a trip? Check out Viator’s tours and things to do in Melbourne, from Colonial Tram Car dinners to Yarra Valley Wine Tasting.

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Kerrie and the pyramids

Egypt Travel Tip: Money

Small notes (1, 5, 10) are like gold in Egypt! You pretty much tip everyone who looks at you so you will need a good supply of small notes handy. I believe there are coins as well, but I never saw them! Wages are criminally low so Egyptians rely on tips from foreigners and locals alike, so stock up on the small notes.

Also, it’s very, very difficult to get change so try and get as much as you can before arriving (even banks are reluctant to share). One of the happiest moments of my trip was finding an ATM in Aswan that gave out 10 pound notes! (opposite the Basma Hotel, next to the Nubia Museum).

Egypt Travel Tip: Water

No surprise here, avoid tap water and only drink bottled water. Clean your teeth with bottled or boiled water, and avoid unpeeled fruits and vegetables. The real tip though for water is to remember to take it with you everywhere. Each and every time you leave your hotel room or cruise ship, grab a bottle. Sure it’s available to buy at the temples and bazaars, but you will be charged exorbitant prices and have to run the bargaining gauntlet to get your hands on some.

Egypt Travel Tip: Private tours

Egypt is a cheap place to travel so use your pennies to get yourself a private guide. Instead of trudging around the famous sites with 50 other people while adhering to their timetable, with a private guide you determine how long you spend at each place. It also gives you the chance to spend time with an Egyptian and they are always happy to share details of their life with you. Ask every question you can come up with about the country and lifestyle, you might just learn something. Also make sure your tour has hotel pick up if you haven’t been to Egypt before, it can be difficult to get directions.

Egypt Travel Tip: Dress

Yes, Egypt is a predominantly Muslim country, however they are pretty relaxed and accepting of other cultures and religions. Relying heavily on tourism, Egypt values its visitors and does not expect everyone to do everything their way. As a female (and a blonde one at that, the worst kind for traveling in a Muslim country according to the guide books…), I was weary of how to dress, however it became clear very quickly I could just dress like I would at home.

Hello, my friend!

I would not recommend hitting the town in hot pants and a boob tube, some discretion please, but do not worry too much about exposed legs, arms and shoulders. Skirts, shorts, sleeveless tops and dresses are all acceptable within reason, just avoid anything too short or too low cut. And for your sightseeing and day trips – wear flat, comfortable, closed toe shoes – there’s alot of sand to walk on in Egypt!

Egypt Travel Tip: Beer

If you are a beer drinker – beware! Due to the heat, the beer in Egypt has loads of preservatives which can unfortunately have a laxative effect. There is one brand called Sakkara which is preservative free, so I suggest you stick to this one…

Egypt Travel Tip: Hassle

Forget the Curse of Tutankhamun and how the Pyramids were built, the biggest myth for travelers to Egypt is that there will be hassle, hassle, hassle. I hate to bargain when shopping and I hate being pressured so I was definitely dreading the alleged hassle that most guide books warn you about. In contrast, I experienced minimal hassle from local shop owners. Yes they call out to you “my friend”, “free for you”, “you English?”, but a firm and polite “la shu-kran” — no thank you, was enough for their eyes to wander to the next potential customer.

Also wearing a hat and dark glasses helps avoid the eye contact which the vendors are desperately trying to get from you. Luxor is a little more aggressive than the other big cities, but this is understandable when you consider tourism is 80% of the city’s income. Overall I was pleasantly surprised and ended up with more souvenirs of the trip than I had expected.

Plenty of tourist schwag on hand

Egypt Travel Tip: Shopping

There is plenty of plastic Tutankhamun’s and stuffed camels to buy in Egypt, everywhere in the world has their fair share of tacky souvenirs, but there is also some good quality items. The biggies to look out for are Papyrus, Alabaster/granite, gold and Egyptian cotton. Regardless of what tours you do, you will always be offered the chance to visit stores specializing in these products, often at set prices.

They may not be the cheapest but if you are like me and not into the whole haggling thing, its a great way to shop. Just remember, if you don’t want to go you can just say no thanks. Obviously guides get a commission from sales to supplement their income, but big deal, can you blame them for wanting to supplement their income? I went to an Alabaster Factory in Luxor, the one place where you feel a little more pressure, and I browsed and left without buying anything.

It was important to me to prove you are not obliged (and in fairness to my guides, they never made me feel obligated to buy anything) and I did. So take the chance to see how Papyrus paper is made and how Alabaster is carved, have a look at what’s on offer and buy if you want – your choice.

Egypt Travel Tip: Camera

No matter where you are, or who they are, do not ever give your camera to someone else to take a photo for you – it will cost you dearly to get it back. If you want your photo taken somewhere, ask your guide or a fellow traveler, not the tourist police, not the temple staff, not the friendly camel owner and definitely not the guy with the Pharaoh head-dress who appears out of nowhere ‘my friend’. This is the scam you need to be aware of, so exercise some common sense and don’t hand over any valuables to complete strangers.

Egypt Travel Tip: Egyptian Museum

The Egyptian Museum should be one of the last places you visit (and I recommend the private museum tour, as well). Treasures from around Egypt have ended up here and it makes for a more interesting visit once you have seen their original homes, heard their stories and understand their significance. When you gaze upon the treasures of King Tutankhamun you can imagine how amazed Howard Carter would have been to open the untouched tomb once you have seen the arid location it was discovered in. The Museum is so big that unless you have several weeks to explore it in depth, you need to know what you are looking for and want to see.

Egypt Travel Tip: Chill out!

Relax! You do not need to take any more precautions in Egypt than you would traveling to most Western countries. People are very kind and respectful and I felt safer there than I often do in Sydney. It’s a different culture, no question there, but that doesn’t make it wrong, just different. Open your eyes and open your mind and Egypt will find a place in your heart.

If you are traveling to Egypt in the future, I hope these little tips help you feel more comfortable about the wonderful experience you are going to have, and for the record, I may have said no at the Alabaster Factory but there were so many nice things I had to ask my guide to take me to another one the next day — the things I do in the line of duty!

-Kerrie O’Mahony

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’stours & things to do in Egypt, Cairo tours, tours to the Giza pyramids, Luxor tours. Also have a look at traveler photos of Egypt over on the Viator Flickr site.

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The Racetrack, Death Valley

Editor’s Note: Be sure to read the latest traveler reviews and photos of the Death Valley day trip over on the main Viator site.

Ghost towns, mysterious moving rocks, acrid salt flats, sweeping sand dunes, chiseled canyons, surreal landscapes, and a posh desert castle. Death Valley was just the sort of quirky place I was looking to spend a few, cherished vacation days. Situated in southeastern California between the Mojave Desert and Las Vegas (135 miles / 216 km to the east), Death Valley National Park spans over 3 million acres, is the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, and is one of the hottest places on earth. (How hot? Temperatures of 120F / 49C are run-of-the-mill.)

Perusing a map of the area before leaving, I noted places such as Dead Man Pass, Last Chance Range, Dry Bone Canyon, and Devil’s Cornfield – they sound like attractions at a Disneyland located in hell.

What I found was far from hell, although the unfortunate pioneers who named Death Valley in 1849 would disagree. They barely survived the trip through this merciless valley nestled between the Panamint and Amargosa mountain ranges.

We entered the park on Highway 190, a scenic two-lane road that winds along the Furnace Creek Wash, and crossed a threshold to the past: the history of Death Valley speaks through the land. Curvaceous sandstone hills resembling giant wads of kneaded dough rise from the desert floor.

A kaleidoscope of chalky colors and shadows play upon the surrounding mountains and salt-encrusted valley. Millions of years ago, a sea covered the area, leaving behind layers of sediment that striate the landscape and salt deposits that sparkle in the sun. Ruts from wagon wheels dating back to the gold rush days scar the ground.

That's about 116 degrees (in the shade!)

My travel partner, Benjamin, and I flew from San Francisco to Las Vegas and drove two hours to the valley in a rented SUV (you can also book a day trip to Death Valley from Las Vegas over on the Viator site). We had two backpacks and a giant duffel bag stuffed with gear for camping. Death Valley is a popular destination for backpackers, tent campers, and RV retirees, as well as those looking for more indulgent lodging. In addition to backcountry camping and 9 well-maintained campgrounds with drinking water, clean bathrooms, fire pits, and BBQs, Death Valley also has two hotels: the 4-diamond Furnace Creek Inn and the more reasonably priced Furnace Creek Ranch.

Our schedule was leisurely, but packed with things to do and see. Death Valley’s geologic oddities, dead mining boomtowns, hiking trails, driving tours, and museums could easily fill several weeks and we only had 4 days to explore millions of years of geologic change. Formed by ancient seas and lakes, volcanic action, wind, and erosion, the landscape is composed of terraced rock formations, colorful mineral residue, salt deposits, snaking canyons, and enormous sand dunes.

Devil's Golf Course, Death Valley

Ubehebe Crater, Death Valley

Driving tours and hiking trails are an excellent way to experience the peculiar world of Death Valley. Places like the Devil’s Golf Course, with its convoluted ground made of sodium chloride craters and spikes, Bad Water at 282 feet below sea level, and the Ubehebe volcanic crater, are but a few of the park’s unusual attractions located conveniently just off the side of the road.

For the daring – skull shattering, unpaved roads lead to places like the Racetrack, a sparkling white playa nestled in dark mountains. One of the more bizarre characters in Death Valley’s roster of oddities, the Racetrack is named for its mystifying moving rocks.

I felt melancholy as I said good-bye to Death Valley. Watching the magical land disappear in the rear view mirror felt like closing the cover of my favorite book, sad that I’d finished the story.

Death Valley is a land of extremes, diversity, wonderment, and history and offers something for everyone: golfers, backpackers, mountain bikers, hikers, nature lovers, photographers, and those simply looking for a little R&R.

The colorful characters and rich history of Death Valley mixed with the diverse landscapes and natural phenomenon of the park make it a truly unique destination. Don’t let the grisly name fool you; Death Valley is a vibrant desert paradise.

-Cheryn Flanagan

Death Valley is two hours by car from Las Vegas. Viator offers a Las Vegas Death Valley tour that receives great reviews from travelers. Also check out some of the traveler photos of Death Valley.

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Watching the sun go down in Huanchaco, Peru. Photo taken by Marlis Seelos.

I sat at a table of no fewer than fifteen people on the street Pio Nono, entry to Bellavista, the down-home party section of Santiago, Chile. I’d been invited to go out for a beer after the monthly critical mass bike ride, and we stacked our bikes tidily (handlebars to rear wheel) against a nearby tree and set to the matter at hand. We sat at a long series of card tables extending down the street, each of us perched on one of those ubiquitous white plastic chairs, serving ourselves beer into small glasses from the liter bottles of Escudo on the center of the tables. Some, drinkers of fan-schop (a Chilean specialty), mixed theirs with Fanta. I drank mine plain, and listened.

I spoke, and people understood. At the time, I felt that this was the only necessary linguistic accomplishment. You, listen to me.

I arrived to Chile in 2004, with way more than a passing knowledge of Spanish. Between high school and a couple of travel and study stints in the mundo hispanohablante (Spanish-speaking world), I could express myself fairly well, if not cleverly. Hadn’t I explained the electoral college to a group of teachers in Antigua, Guatemala in the 90s? Wasn’t it me who grabbed other travelers by the hand to take them to the post office, the bus station, to get their hair cut? I enjoyed helping, expressing, being in charge. I could get you a seat on the bus, a doorstop, tape to fix a book – you name it. I could ask for it directly or circumlocute it. I spoke, and people understood. At the time, I felt that this was the only necessary linguistic accomplishment. You, listen to me. And then it was over.

While output was the feather in my linguistic cap, my listening wouldn’t have won any awards. Still, I was skilled enough (or so I thought). Ask a predictable question while travelling, and get a predictable answer. “Where” questions should lead to a location. “When” questions should yield a time, or a day. “I don’t know” might come up at any time, so be prepared. Other times you might get a “probably,” or “No, we’re out of that (on the menu), what about this?” These little sayings are repetitive, predictable, often accompanied by hand and head motions, and occasional pointing. Understandable.

But what happens when you get out of the predictable, and put fifteen of your new closest friends on a loud sidewalk, add an unfamilliar accent, country-specific slang and not just a touch of cheap beer? As an ESL teacher I’d seen students reduced to frustration, to squinching their eyes shut against visual input while they leaned their heads closer to the audio, hoping that the problem wasn’t their ear for English, but their hearing. Try as I might there on the sidewalk, no matter of eye squinching or head leaning was going to fix the fact that I was simply not up to the task. My Chilean friends could understand me, but of the reading/writing/listening/speaking quadrifecta that make up second-language learning, clearly my listening was the weakest.

I’m loquacious at the best of times, grate-on-your-nerves chatty when it’s worse. But here, on the street in Santiago, 5,000 miles from a place where I could understand easily (and foolishly had taken this for granted), I was relegated to good listener status. It wasn’t that I couldn’t exactly understand what anyone was saying. I could understand enough to follow, kind of, but not fast enough to say anything relevant to the conversation while the topic was still hot.

I was also in Chile, which, with the exception of not letting people off the metro before getting on, is one of the most polite places I’d ever been. What this means is that any time I so much as appeared to want to say anything, a hush would fall over the string of tables. People knew they might not understand me easily, so they wanted to give me their complete attention.

The less I spoke, the more people felt I was being sweet, lovely, an observer, a listener. And whenever I did speak, I was no longer the boy who cried wolf.

Between the hot topic issue and the plancha (embarassment) I felt at having all eyes on me, the venerable communicator, I simply had to take a different tact. No longer was I Eileen, wordsmith extraordinaire. I was Aylín, the good listener. I was polite. It was cute. People described me as quiet.

And for a while I rebelled, thinking, no! I’m a whirlwind of communication. But what I learned here was that the less I spoke, the more people felt I was being sweet, lovely, an observer, a listener. And whenever I did speak, I was no longer the boy who cried wolf. I was a woman of few words. And I spent several months as a good listener because I simply couldn’t keep up well enough to speak. During downtimes in the conversation, I would mull over a conversation a Honduran woman had with me on the bus years ago, all communion and priest, mass and confession, a jumble of nouns held together with words (verbs? adjectives? who knows) that meant nothing to me. “Did you understand?” she asked. “Church,” I’d replied.

Not being able to participate in a conversation is like being in disguise. I would sit there in my shy suit and let the words whirl around me, swirl past me. For the first time in my life I was getting to know the patient people, the ones that reach out to quiet ones. I’d never met them before because I was so busy with my soundtrack. It made people want to take me into their confidence, their inner circle. I was not a person who repeated private information. As far as they could tell, I didn’t even speak.

After several months of more listening than speaking, I took it up as a new challenge: To follow every conversation with surgical precision, and say nothing, or nearly nothing. I could feel the cloud of wonder and panic lifting, and still I chose to stay quiet. I learned about body language and turn-taking, Chilean social niceties, and watched the other quiet people to see what they were doing. Following along as well, in most cases. They weren’t bland, just quiet. It was a revelation. Church indeed. The church of shut up and listen. And I was a convert.

Nearly five years later, I don’t have to just listen any more. I can exchange jokes and fling around slang with abandon. But what I’ve found is that I often don’t want to. I’m often happy to let events take place without interrupting them, just listening to people say what they have to, what they want to. I don’t interrupt as much and I’ve discovered this whole new world, even among my very own family, the self-professed masters of interrupting and simultaneous yammering (I blame Brooklyn). Sometimes I just try to let them talk themselves out before chiming in. Because when people are talking, they tend not be great listeners. I’d rather have their attention before saying something.

I’m often told I’ve changed quite a bit since being in Chile. Years have passed, and in that time we’ve all changed. But what I learned here is that you don’t have to be on your game at every possible second. You can watch from the sidelines and participate at the same time. Sometimes the story we tell when we’re not saying a word is the most important story of all.

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In that spirit Viator is pleased to announce the launch of a new country on our website: the Republic of Bakpakhistan. Our team of travel experts has tried for three years to crack open the Bakpakhi tours and activities market. It’s not been easy. The Republic of Bakpakhistan has had a rough go of it; first there was the collapse of its patron, the Soviet Union. Then after a brief flurry of activity in 2001, the country literally – quite literally – disappeared from the map.

Haggling over US$0.0001 at the rug market © Lonely Planet

Now, after eight years of isolation and closed borders, the country is re-opening to tourism. The capital, Hikinboot, has started the slow process of rebuilding and repopulating.

“Dubbed by detractors and admirers alike as the ‘Paris of the Central Urgs’, Hikinboot is an oasis of unbreathable air and inedible food. Bakpakhistan may be the ‘forgotten Stan’, but Hikinboot is a vital stopping-off point on any journey around the country – in fact it’s the only stopping-off point, as the sprinkling of land mines, ageing nuclear reactors, viciously hungry guerrillas, and marauding groups of gun-wielding Soviet soldiers who’ve refused to come in from the cold conspire to make travel outside the capital an impossibility. Travel to and from Hikinboot’s airport will be the sum total of road travel you’re likely to undertake.

-Lonely Planet World Guide: Destination Bakpakhistan

Bakpakhistan: Planning Your Trip

So exactly where is Bakpakhistan? What can you expect from a visit there? When to go? What to see & do? These are all great questions. And we have answers.

“Bakpakhistan is bordered by Tajikistan to the north, Uzbekistan to the northwest, Turkmenistan to the west, Afghanistan to the south, Pakistan to the southeast and India to the east. Bakpakhistan is ringed by mountains, creating a mostly dry, arid, windswept microclimate. There is little fresh water, as most major streams from the mountains flow down the other side into neighbouring countries. The one exception, the Guz River, kept the cooling towers cool back in Soviet times. Now, it’s best not spoken about.”

“Bakpakhistan’s only real event is the annual grain festival, the Bakbakbakstöp Harvest Festival. The event, celebrating the nation’s only successful harvest (1867), takes place in the first three weeks of June. A country already pretty much stationary grinds to a total stop, as every town hosts a parade featuring residents wearing traditional three-cornered hats.

It’s also the only time of the year when children are allowed to play the traditional game of stïc bol, played with a stïc (a type of stick) and a bol (a round ball).”

-Lonely Planet World Guide: Destination Bakpakhistan

Viator.com is a proud sponsor of the 2008 Bakbakbakstöp Harvest Festival. As part of the festivities, we’ve partnered with Education Minister Snagult Ufqunt to create a crash-course of local tours to help visitors make the most of a holiday in Bakpakhistan.

Semi-traditional non-nomadic Bakpakhistani dwelling © Lonely Planet

Bakpakhistan: Full Day Foraging Tour

From BK3.7 million / US$1.50 per person
Spend a full day discovering Bakpakhistan’s hottest forgaging spots. You’ll learn about the secret spot near the abandoned overpass, the one by the smelly part of the river and more of Bakpakhistan’s best kept foraging secrets form locals who know. Also, you’ll stop off at the market of Gagin Mawnkoont for shopping and gawking at its famous mutations. You’re probably going to need to forage for food, or makeshift transport to leave the country at some point anyway, so this tour is a MUST.

Hikinboot Day Tour*

From BK2.1 million / US$0.99 per person
Visit the ‘Paris of the Central Urgs’! Dodge land mines, guerrillas, nuclear meltdowns and more as you spend a day getting to know this exciting city. This exclusive Viator tour includes:

Statue of StalinThe remains of Proletariat HouseAdmission to the carpet museumLunch at Crazy Abdull’s (no vegetarian option)A souvenir land mineBakpakhi Cultural Half Day Tour, with Clicking Fingers Demonstration

From BK123 million / US$5 per person
Bakpakhistan is renowned for its crafts and carpets, not to mention its folk music. And the rumors are true: Paul Simon has agreed to make a album (produced by Peter Gabriel, featuring Sting and Bono) based on the Bakpakhici art of clicking fingers and tongues while simultaneously slapping a raw cod on the side of a leather boot. This exclusive tour includes a walk through the Hikinboot carpet museum and concludes with a live performance by the Bakpakhi Five Mega-Minstrels at the Bollixinski soccer stadium. Prime Minister Slotcar Nascar will perform a stïc bol demonstration between cod slaps.

Guz River Experience

From BK99 / US$0.00000002 per person
Spend a few hours on what used to be the Guz River. The river was actually concreted over in 1992 and is now the Hivk Highway. Your guide will take you along the highway in a boat converted into a landmobile. You will have the opportunity to view all the sites that were enjoyed from the river before 1992. If you are lucky some of the concrete will be cracked enough in sections along the highway allowing a glimpse of the sludge. You will want your cameras ready when you pass Bakpakhistan woman carrying 30 litres (8 gallons) of water on their heads just to give their children something to drink. The highlight of the tour is when you stop at former fisherman’s shack and get to view all his mutated and preserved marine animals from the good old days when the river was a cesspool of toxic chemicals.

Pricing on request
Your journey begins with a stop in historic Baghpakh, continuing on to the Bakdur Brothel and Cybercafe for a brief photo opportunity. Then it’s off along the Hvik Highway in a yak cart to experience the incredible beauty of the King Tuj mountains, framed against the towering Timtamistan Cliffs. The Timtamistan Arnottonomous Zone is the most ethnically diverse – and dangerous – region in Bakpakhistan. Local tribes have inhabited these badlands for generations and will not hesitate to dunk your biscuit. Notable tribes include the Timtamoriginal clan, the Order of the Timtamchewykarmelites, Timtamdoublecoats, Timtamdarkks, Timtamlövepötiöns, Timtam-chocölatemudders, Timtamstickyvanillatöffees and the vicious tribe of the Timtam Lattes. On the crest of the Timtamistan Cliffs, you will board a thinly disguised UN aid helicopter for a once-in-a-lifetime, 7 minute, 4,000-foot descent to the mighty Guz River below. At the river’s edge, you’ll board a pontoon boat for a relaxing boat ride down toxic Guz tributaries. Float across the water grasping the inner majesty and mystery of this fabulous chasm. Don’t forget your camera!Happy travels. Or as they say in Bakpashti, Vlassplosspissinskaya!

-Viator Travel Team

* Viator and the local tour operator are not responsible for death, injury, or other harm sustained on this tour. Undertake at your own risk. In fact, maybe just pick something else, we hear the foraging tour is nice, and practical too.

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Well, like me, you’d be wrong. Brussels is a beautiful city. Unexpectedly chaotic, hilly and fragmented, it mixes sumptuous architecture with seedy waterfront districts; fancy chocolate emporiums and stylish shopping streets with urban decay; with a healthy dose of design and the arts. According to a Dutch friend, Belgium is ‘The Spain of the North,’ and after my three short visits here, I can say that Brussels is the city I was dreaming of when I moved to Berlin.

I’m tempted not to tell you any of this, as Brussels is the best-kept secret I know.

Brussels: The best-kept secret in Europe, but not for long

Brussels: Gritty, cool, curvy

Brussels is, without dispute, grittier, cooler and curvier than Berlin. It’s also full of stylish (and diverse!) people. The spectrum of dance, music, electronic media and performing arts is astounding. Whatever your taste, in ultra-creative Brussels you can find something to indulge and inspire.

My first glimpse of the city was through the windows of a Eurolines bus from Paris to Berlin, when I was intrigued by the highly decorative architecture and neighbourhoods as we passed through. When I had the opportunity to come back for a weekend visit, I jumped at the chance to explore Brussels in more depth. Luckily, my friends living there are incredible hosts with a wealth of local delights to share, and also provide metahaven of design research and architectural services!

Lost in space, in chocolate, in Chinatown

I got lost my first time in Brussels’ Centraal Station, lost in a maze of corridors trying to locate the main staircase. This led me to a strangely empty hall containing only a wide circular staircase and gleaming pillars of blue-white light, being documented by two seriously hipster looking photographers. I’m still not sure if it was a sci-fi set, art, or simply the newly renovated entrance to somewhere else.

We strolled through the winding centre of town, starting from a fantastic vantage point looking over the city, taking a lift down to street level and then meandering along to our first decadent moment at the artisan chocolate shop Pierre Marcolini. Think: incredible flavours. Next stop, downhill into the slightly seedy downtown, on my mission to find a miracle fish in Chinatown. (There is a small corner of Chinese supermarkets, and a few grocery stores, comics, Japanese design and objects, but no fortune telling fish. I’ll have to get one posted from Australia)

After that, my friend Eva shared her designer secrets with me, along fashionista heaven: Rue Antoine Dansaert. We started at Annemie Verbeke, where we could only dream of owning a black cashmere dress or electric-blue pleated skirt. The ultra-funky retro shop next door was more financially reachable: eclectic vintage stylin’ clothes, shoes, and accessories.

Brussels: Food & music

Heading back to la Grand-Place, we ate fantastically fresh and delicious Lebanese food at L’Express Quality on rue des Chapeliers,  and then feasted on sweets in the chandelier-lit Turkish Teahouse on the first street to the right. The evening took us out of town, Fuzzy Electronics and Magnetics at Netwerk Centre for the Arts in Aalst, only a 30-minute drive out of town. The building is fabulous, three stories of renovated factory, with exhibition spaces on each, a concert hall and wonderful ground floor bar where the artists mingled.

The night ended at Beursschouwburg, another seriously hip hangout for the dance crowd that performs in the theatre next door and other venues. It’s a great evening of people watching. Topped off with a tiny bar further along Ortsstraat, packed with even more relaxed and interesting looking people. I could get used to this kind of lifestyle!!

Brussels: Art (and beer)

Don't forget the Maffia Sauce at Friterie de la Barriere

Next up is a mission to take in some of the contemporary art which flourishes in this multi-dimensional urban playground. We dropped in to Bozar Palais des Beaux-Arts for their exhibition program, also host to Brussels Electronic Music Festival and Balkan Trafik Festival. Passing the classical music concert audience on their way out, we enjoyed the imaginary cities and model architecture exhibition, and reveled in the lounges and decadent curves of the interior.

In fact, Brussels is an indelibly curvy city — the roads, the buildings all seem to mold themselves to a forgiving shape, it is nowhere near as harsh and angular as Berlin, labyrinthine as London or perpendicular as New York.

Next was a trip back downtown to CCNOA, a centre for contemporary non-objective art with a secret entrance (look for the colored sign on Blvd Barthelemylaan 5). If you get lost, it’s close to any number of seriously cool low-key bars where you can catch the taste of living culture in this quarter that is a thriving hotspot for the bohemian avant-garde to gossip and linger over drinks.

Also check out La Cellule (Ave Ducpétiaux 133a, 1060), home to Brussels’ Tango Festival, before checking out the famous Friterie de la Barriere de Saint-Gilles (a hot chips van!) – look out for the special maffia sauce (spicy mustard) and extraordinary range of Belgian beers. That night l’Abbaye du Val-Dieu was the winner, however my investigation into the ‘best’ Belgian beer is ongoing.

Day trip: Ghent

I spent a weekend in Ghent at Vooruit Art Centre, a magnificent ‘people’s palace of art’, conversing with a fascinating array of artists at The Game is Up: How to Save the World in 10 Days. The fo.am “grow your own worlds’ crew and annemie maes from Brussels were particularly inspiring. Same wit Nathalie Jerimijenko’s Environmental Health Clinic; Martin Kaltwasser and Michel de Broin taking alternative approaches to recycling energy and reconfiguring vehicles; and the wonderful hehe who are responsible for ‘Nuage Verte’, the green cloud over Helsinki and soon Paris.

It’s exciting there is still more of this fantastic metropolis to discover, I think that’s what makes Brussels so captivating, the sense of being many different cities in one. Can you tell that I am seriously charmed by Brussels?

-Jodi Rose

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s things to do in Brussels, from Brussels day tours to Brussels day trips.

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China seems to be behind us as we pull into Erlian, to cross the border into Mongolia. Already we’ve seen the landscape growing drier and stations have lost their grim institutional look. Actually crossing the border is a formality. Customs officials snatch up our passports and give us no idea of when we’ll see them again. We begin the long slow wait for the gauges to change.

Mongolia is temptingly close but really it’s the distance between two gauges. And how long does it take to cross that distance? At least two hours as our bogie is lifted onto a new set of wheels. Swapping bogies makes trainspotters giggly with excitement, but it’s dull for anyone else.

Trans-Mongolia: Rail staff of the month

The guidebook chirpily tells you that once you get your passport back you should explore this “lively” border town. In fact it’s a plain train station that does duty free. To be fair I did ignore the instructions about getting your passport back and hopped off for a few minutes to go to the bathroom. I’m about to leave the terminal when I notice there’s now a guard on the door. I smile sweetly and push on the door but it’s locked. I ask the guard and she says, “you wait. 10:30.”

This means more than an hour of looking in the duty free area which, on closer inspection, is more of a supermarket with a dozen bottles of Malibu and a collection of obscure whiskies. I’m a little nervous without my passport but buying a few sachets of Coffee King in “American Flavour” keeps me amused for at least 10 minutes.

The rest is striking up conversations that consist of “Hello” and “I’m out of Mandarin now”.

Back on the train and we get a second serve of customs – Mongolian style. The green uniforms are similar but the Mongol version is tricked-out with more military bling. And the female inspector has higher cheekbones with more makeup. Her approach might have just been bossy in China, but here it’s refreshingly brassy.

Trans-Mongolia: Way of the rails #1

We splurged between Datong and Ulaan Baatar on a 2-person soft sleeper. This cosy cabin is like a pokey hotel room – only one of us can open our bag at a time and stowing on the top bunk makes more space. The top bunk folds down and there’s a convenient ladder. There’s a share shower – basically a hose, sink and drainable floor, but it does the job for a train. You also get a large thermos flask that conductors will re-fill (or let you re-fill depending on their friendliness) from the coal-fired boiler at the end of the carriage. As well as tea and coffee, it makes for budget-saving soups and noodles.

Of course there’s also the dining car. Our ticket includes dinner which, in China, was a couple of dollops of meatballs, rice and carrots, celery on the side. It’s bland but bearable. And you can throw in a couple of beers if you’re after flavour.

In the morning and on the other side of the border, we couple with a new dining car complete with ornately carved woodwork and a Mongolian ala carte breakfast. My sausage omlette comes with a sauerkraut-like slaw of carrots and cabbage. It’s springy and flavoursome, making a change from cup noodles.

Beard weird: Walking up to the monastery I get my first beard freeze. It starts with a moistness that hardens as I scrape my hand across it. It’s best prevented with a scarf or shaking off the icicles as you go.

Trans-Mongolia: Galloping gourmets

After the long train trip we go for a big meal. In the carnivalesque cuisine of Mongolia, meat is cheaper and hence more plentiful than vegetables. But it’s cooking based in the scarcity of the steppes, so all parts of the sheep are eaten (including the testicles). The first dish I order is mutton porridge, a glutinously thick stew with suspicious globs of meat in it. It reminds me of a hearty Scotch broth, minus any of those annoying veggies.

As the Mongols were nomads they needed meat in any form, including their national animal. So the horse is eaten. Which brings me to the main – skip ahead if you’re a Black Beauty fan. The Cowboy dish has three hefty horse ribs with potatoes on the side and a doughy dumpling pancake over the top. Perhaps this pancake is for modesty or to grandly unveil the meat beneath.

Gandantegchinlen Kiid monastery

And what does Mr Ed taste like? A nutty meat that could even be another cut of mutton. It’s definitely no racehorse as there’s fat lining the bone, though another piece is rangy like good game. It would have been good to wash down with koumiss (fermented mare’s milk) but the menu only runs to beers. Dessert items include peanuts, chewing gum and cigarettes – all good walking foods, so we take the hint and head out.

Trans-Mongolia: Holier than thou

We got to the Gandantegchinlen Kiid just before dusk. We were given the tip “In Mongolia, every car is a taxi” and waving at a passing car proves it. The monastery itself feels vital after China. Young monks wander the grounds being cheeky and older ones smile. There’s close to 200 monks here all part of the resurgence of Buddhism in Mongolia. With the snowy mountain backdrop it feels more like Tibet once would have.

In the morning we head out into the steppes to another monastery, Manzushir Kiid. It was given a kicking by the Chinese in the 1930s; now it’s all crumbling ruins flanking a restored temple that’s a modest museum. Snow starts to feather down as we hike up to the monastery and we’re exploring the temple just as it gets heavier. The museum has relics like wand made from a human shinbone and several masks used during ritual dances. The Buddha is from a different period to Yunguang, but is definitely more sensuous.

But up behind the temple there are small shrines built around faded and burned rock paintings and we head up there as the snow sets in. Offerings are still made here with blue ribbons tied around the poles as a form of prayer. Our guide, Tsegi, tells us that blue is for the Mongolian sky and as the snow flurries down it seems a stretch.

We saw several poles with blue cloth tied around them as we drove in. Our driver, Ogott, proves to be a man of few words but many beeps. As we pass his preferred shrine, we don’t have time to stop so he blasts the horn three times in tribute.

Trans-Mongolia: My ger or yours?

Ever wonder what the top of a 'ger' looks like?

After the temple we stop for lunch in a ger (yurt-like felt tent). The dome structure is designed to shed snow and keep the heat in, while being mobile enough for nomads. In winter there’s a little antechamber by the door to keep the heat in.

As we come in we’re met with the mewling of newly born goats, soaking up the warmth. We are offered a milky tea, though Tsegi warns us our stomach might not be able to take it. We have a few polite sips. It’s a little awkward with our hosts as we’re having a translated conversation back and forth.

A neighbour arrives with a sticky newly born goat which he places by the fire and we all watch it struggle to stand. The neighbour wants to ask us about sheep. We work out this is because we’re Australian and hence must know all about sheep (in the same way Brits know all about growing tea and Americans can detail the ins and outs of their foreign policy.)

I sneak in a toilet break and notice that the outhouse uses cow dung as a glue to hold the wooden structure together. Back inside dung is burnt in the fire and it has dried so much there’s no smell. Our tea was prepared on this fire and there was no noticeable stink. The whole ger is cosy even despite the snow.

We head back to Ulaan Bataar with another train to catch. We encourage Ogott to break the drive at his shrine and honour it by doing a three circumnavigations. We solemnly pick up three stones, dropping one on each lap and making a little prayer that we’ll get to the train on time. Ogott makes a single lap, tossing all three stones in one go. We ask Tsegi why.

“He is lazy,” she laughs.

But as we pull out we see some lazier worshippers, who do a quick lap in their car. Nirvana has developed dive-thru.

Trans-Mongolia: Smuggling into Russia

Our train to Mongolia sets off in the early afternoon. It’s not long into the journey when several ladies start wandering the carriage with huge bundles of jeans, T-shirts and handbags. At first I think they’re just selling them and awe see few pairs are exchanged for money, so a simple ‘nyet’ gets us out of trouble. But one of the conductors comes to plead their case – would I do them a favour of carrying two blankets across the border for them? I’m being dragged into a notorious blanket-smuggling ring.

They’re following the route of the Russian tea caravan that linked Europe with India and China. The route became less popular when shipping routes became quicker than overland routes.

At Darkhan even more small-time crooks push onto the train. The new smugglers have to work fast with the border at the next stop so they shark the corridor, their eyes darting around each compartment for any empty space. Their eyes plead. Don’t we have room? Couldn’t we just take a few pieces?

The border crossing is arduous with lots of poking through cabins from both Mongolian and then Russian border guards – the Russian bashes the walls for hollow compartments and jumps up like Action Man to inspect the luggage. A 20-year-old Mongolian makes a show of looking sternly at our passports before whisking them away for eventual stamping. The whole event takes five hours.

We settle in to sleep. It doesn’t last. I step out blinking into the corridor and the smuggling has become a military operation. The corridor is lined with bodies and bags – one unwrapping and stowing the other. Several of the people walking the corridor have lists and are checking them. They are calculating where each item is for quick swaps at stations.

It must be 4am by the time they finish and the train lurches on. Even then there a few knocks at the door and requests to carry blankets. I sleep fitfully having been tangled in this elicit blanket, salami and jeans trade.
When we pull in at Slyudyanka the smugglers begin their furious work. They hop out onto the Russian platform and begin haggling and hustling. You can barely get to the doors for the trading. Some platform Russians are doing old fashioned barter.

And what do they have to offer? A local smoked fish, omul, in plastic bags and swapped for pair of jeans. It’s the modern version of the tea caravan and our first glimpse of Russia.

-George Dunford

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s China tours & things to do (including tips on things to do in Beijing) and things to do in Russia.

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What to do in Hong Kong? Simply take it all in

Hong Kong reminds me of urban landscapes from cyberpunk novels. It’s all grime and glitz with narrow, twisting alleyways the color of sepia, mile-high concrete block buildings, and mirrored office towers, all bursting from a motley skyline of a billion neon signs. It’s eclectic, fast paced, stylish and modern –- but even so, there are plenty of places to find peace, quiet, and zen in a city park, temple, or monastery.

Hong Kong: Getting Oriented

Hong Kong is actually a collection of 262 islands, divided into four main areas: Hong Kong Island; Kowloon and the New Territories (located on the peninsula attached to the China mainland); and the Outlying Islands.

The city itself is located around Victoria Harbour, and most travelers stay at the southern end of Kowloon in a neighborhood called Tsim Sha Tsui, a busy hotel and shopping district. In fact, Nathan Rd.’s Golden Mile is located here, so named for the ritzy shops lining the street.

Because of Hong Kong’s recent past as a British colony, there is enough English spoken (and printed on signs) to get around easily. Transportation is also a breeze: the metro (known as the MTR) is affordable, convenient and frequent –- and it goes all over Hong Kong. The Kowloon-Canton Railway (KCR) links Hong Kong to the mainland (if your trip takes you into China).

Then there are ferries that cross the harbor, junk boats, escalators, moving sidewalks, aerial cable cars, double-decker busses, trams and, of course, taxis. Walking is always my favorite way to get around, though, and aside from the spontaneity and discovery a city walk affords, Hong Kong Island has many hiking trails for those seeking nature and exercise.

Ancient statue on Lantau Island, via a Hong Kong day trip

Aside from the unusual geography and the odd mix of cultural influences (Cantonese, British, Mandarin), I find the vertical construction of Hong Kong to be among the most disorienting traits. At home most things are eye level, but here, everything is stacked on top of each other: shops, restaurants, clubs and bars – you can’t just scan the storefronts on the street or you’ll miss most of Hong Kong. For locals, the evening commute ends with a half-hour wait in line at the elevator to get home.

Fish at the Hong Kong Fish Market

Hong Kong isn’t particularly attractive in the day, not when compared to the evening hours, when all the neon signs light up the city making it feel (almost) like day. And every night at the harbour, a show called ‘A Symphony of Lights’ features lit skyscrapers, lasers and fireworks synchronized to music, recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s “Largest Permanent Light and Sound Show”.

And night is when the crowds come out – they surge – but unlike the rest of China, no-one pushes or shoves, so crossing the street with several hundred other people is more like riding a wave than participating in a riot.

Hong Kong: Things to do

Some people say that all there is to do in Hong Kong is shop, eat, shop, eat. It’s true there is a lot of shopping, with all the stores along Nathan road, the many malls, and numerous street markets: the Ladies Market (fake brand-label goods), Temple Street Market (goods from all over Asia – great for souvenirs), Stanley Market (everything from luggage to cheap clothes), the Flower Market (full of flowers, of course), the Goldfish Market (a whole street lined with shops selling small fish in plastic bags), the Bird Market (exotic birds, delicate wood cages, and local men relaxing), and the Jade Market (beware of fakes).

It’s also true that eating in Hong Kong is a good pastime, particularly at the many noodle shops and dim sum restaurants. But there is more to Hong Kong than shopping and eating – here are some of my suggested itineraries and recommendations:

Visit the Botanical Gardens (Victoria Peak, HK Island)Ride the tram to the top of Victoria Peak(Victoria Peak, HK Island)Find Zen at the Chin Lin Nunnery (Diamond Hill, Kowloon)Check out the Taoist Wong Tai Sin Temple (Wong Tai Sin, Kowloon)Get lost in alleyways of the Mong Kok and Tsim Sha Tsui areas (Kowloon)Watch the swimmers in the downtown Kowloon Park (Kowloon)Have dinner and then a nighttime cruise on the harbour(Kowloon)Check out the ‘Symphony of Lights’ harbour night cruise(Hong Kong Harbour, Kowloon side)Bet on a horse at the Hong Kong Jockey Club & Happy Valley Race Track(Happy Valley, HK Island)Go drinking in the Lan Kwai Fong neighborhood (Central, HK Island)Climb 268 steps to see the 34-meter-tall ‘Big Buddha’ on Lantau Island(Lantau Island)Take a boat trip to see pink dolphins off the coast of Lantau IslandMake a day trip to Macau

It also goes without saying, you must go shopping at one of Hong Kong’s many street markets and sample dim sum. No trip to Hong Kong is complete otherwise.

-Cheryn Flanagan

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours and things to do in Hong Kong, Hong Kong Harbour Cruises, and day trips to mainland China.

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So this time I resolved to do something a bit different. I probably wouldn’t take Manhattan, but I would take in as many different views as possible and finally, if possible, come home with a real sense of perspective.

Of course, New York is a collection of islands. It isn’t just Manhattan, and even a land-based across-the-water look at another borough is a must. If you like the smell of salt and the feeling of the wind in your hair, then try a New York City cruise for the sea view. But, for that feeling that you’re really lording it over Manhattan, nothing beats seeing it from up in the sky.

New York by sea – the Statue of Liberty on a NYC harbor cruise

New York City by land

If you ask me, Brooklyn gets a bit of a raw deal. If it were a city in its own right, rather than one of the Five Boroughs, Brooklyn would be the USA’s 4th largest city. As it is, it’s frequently (and some say unfairly) known as Manhattan’s less glamorous neighbour.

But if you’d like to at least take a look at the Borough that spawned Saturday Night Fever, then the South Street Seaport is a cool place to start. The area boasts a boardwalk with steps (great for those lingering views), the South Street Seaport Museum and a collection of shops and restaurants. (If you’re in need of Swedish flat-pack furniture, there’s also a free ferry across to IKEA in Brooklyn.)

We took a seat on the boardwalk steps and admired the view. The Brooklyn Bridge is a truly awe-inspiring piece of engineering. Its span stretches across the East River from Manhattan into Brooklyn Heights, where a mass of red and brown brick buildings, faded warehouses and rushing freeways give the area an air of working-class reliability.

The Brooklyn Bridge

Here there are no glass facades, no shiny reflections and little obvious elegance. For that, you have to look back to Manhattan and the Wall Street skyline. For me, in this instance, Brooklyn red-brick won the day.

The South Street Seaport Museum is home to the USA’s largest fleet of privately maintained historic vessels. The ships themselves are lined up at piers along the dock and their wooden masts and colourful hulls hark back to the time when Wall Street was a fur trading centre and the Dutch built a wall to keep the English out.

Once you’ve finished at South Street, Wall Street is but a stone’s throw away. And it was back to gazing upwards and bumping into irate financiers.

New York City by sea

For an all-encompassing view of Manhattan, the Circle Line cruises are an extremely good option. The Harbor Lights Cruise (2 hrs, early evening) takes you nearly all of the way round Manhattan. We had stunning views of the islands and the bridges without the need to lift so much as a finger. Photography is difficult from a moving boat at night (unless you’re an expert and I’m not) but it’s still a lovely trip.

(The cruise includes a commentary, which is staggeringly informative. Any interesting facts or trivia in this piece, I therefore credit to the Circle Line rather than to my own research!)

The boat has plenty of seating inside and there’s also a seating area outside on the top deck. Or you can do what most people do: grab a seat inside to hear the commentary, and then shoot out onto deck to take photos or get a clearer view. (Tip: it will be considerably cooler on the water than on land, so dress accordingly.)

As you leave the dock, take a peak at the Intrepid Sea-Air-Space Museum on the next pier. Poking out from behind the USS Intrepid – and looking pathetically small – is a retired Concorde. Once the boat is underway, take time to grab the view straight down 42nd Street and check out the colour of the Empire State Building.

The glorious Empire State Building in New York City

Manhattan’s architecture is the star of this show. The Woolworths, Empire State and Chrysler Buildings all hark back to an era when cities were built by people, rather than by corporations and banks. In Times Square, you’ll pay more to advertise on the outside of a building than to rent space inside. Or did you want to buy a piece of Manhattan? It’ll cost you: in 2007, a building on Park Avenue sold for over $1,500 per square foot.

Dig down as the story doesn’t stop at ground level. There are – as you’ll see – no skyscrapers between the Empire State Building at 34th Street and Wall Street (way below 1st Street). This is geology. The bedrock in this part of Manhattan is not strong enough to support skyscrapers, and so there is a deep dip in the skyline.

The cruise begins at the 42nd Street Pier, heads south down the Hudson River, round the bottom of Manhattan and then up the East River as far as Williamsburg Bridge. Then it turns round and visits the Statue of Liberty before heading home. These bridges carry a significant proportion of the 1.4 million people who commute daily into Manhattan.

(If you’re wondering, the 42nd Street Pier is somewhere south of where US Airlines Flight 1549 came down in January 2009. When the captain turns the boat around, you’ll get an idea of how strong the current is and how much of an achievement that really was.)

New York City by sky

I rate the Manhattan skyline as one of my personal Top 10 Travel Sights, so admiring it is a must on any trip to New York. What better way to see it than from above? One day, my wallet might stretch to a Big Apple Helicopter tour, but right now I’m all about budget options. I went up the Empire State building on my last visit, but since then, the Top of the Rock at Rockefeller Plaza has re-opened.

You’ll want to pause at ground level to take in the scale of the Rockefeller Center: 22 acres of buildings, begun in 1930 and financed by John D. Rockefeller himself. The complex is home to Radio City Music Hall, NBC Studios (including the “Saturday Night Live” studios) and the Rainbow Room Restaurant.

Inside the lobby, you can see the history of the building in words and pictures, including the iconic “Girder Photo” where the construction workers happily munch their lunchtime sandwiches whilst sitting high above the city. (You can also pose for and buy your own, less scary, version of the photo!)

“Your next stop is the 67th floor and you’ll be there in less than 50 seconds,” said the elevator operator, before closing the doors on us. We looked up through the elevator’s glass ceiling and saw the top of the building shoot towards us before the doors opened again.

And wow, is that view ever worth it.

On a clear day, you get a perfect view of Central Park, the Statue of Liberty (oh-so-tiny in the distance), Wall Street and the other boroughs.

If you’re not familiar with New York, grab the skyline map. It helps to know what you’re looking at. Do also stay as long as you want at the top. Don’t forget your camera and don’t stay inside! The best views are to be had from the decks, particularly the top balcony.

-Louise Heal

Planning a trip? Check out Viator’s things to do in New York City. You can also get a great view of Manhattan from the Empire State Building or the Top of the Rock. Or check out traveler photos of the Harbor Lights Cruise over on the main Viator.com website.

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All aboard Beijing, on the first leg of the Trans-Mongolia train

Trans-Mongolia dreamin’

This trip has been a dream for me ever since I studied Russian history at university. The Trans-Mongolian is an offshoot of the longer Trans-Siberian Railway that runs from across Russia from St Petersburg to Vladisvostock on the Sea of Japan. It’s a journey of more than 9,000km (5,600 miles) as cultures slowly change and borders blur.

Our route (if we make the train) begins in Beijing then stops in Datong before wriggling north up through the steppes to Mongolia. We’ll hop off the train in Mongolia’s capital, Ulaan Baatar, before swerving up to Irkutsk where we’ll visit the world’s deepest lake, Baikal. From there we’ll meet the Trans-Siberian as it follows the ancient route of Russian tea caravans.

It’s a long slow haul from here so maybe we’ll break the journey in Yekaterinburg, where the last of the tsars were murdered. Then the onion domes and grandeur of Moscow, before swerving up to St Petersburg. And because we can’t get enough we might keep on to Helsinki in Finland.

But all of this depends on us making that train.

All aboard, Beijing

The cab veers off the main road and we see it in clear English: Beijing West Railway Station. Maddeningly we go into an exit loop, so the sign passes us by twice before we get any closer to it. We pull up out front and I make a mad dash to locate the platform, while my partner, Nikki, unloads the bags and pays the taxi.

There’s a metal detector (why do they need to know if I’m carrying my keys now?) and few gruff officials but then I’m there. There’s a scramble of characters on the departure board, but I can just work it out: platform 6. Doubling back and Nikki is dodging through lanes of traffic wrestling with both bags to get to the same metal detector delay. But we’re going to make it.

At the platform there’s another mix-up. Our carriage seems to be filled with smoking soldiers and our seats can’t be seen for bodies and fug. We grab a conductor and he takes another look at out tickets. He frowns and makes an executive decision that we just don’t know how to book tickets. He takes us two carriages down, where there are fewer soldiers and plenty of free seats. The train lurches to a start just as we drop into our new seats.

The Hanging Monastery

Datong detour

Datong needs a marketing makeover. In the hills of Shanxi, it’s gotten a little lost of the last couple of hundred years and most Chinese know it for coal rather than culture. A friend in Beijing asked me before we left, “why would you want to go to Datong? It’s the sick bowl of China.”

The walls of this bowl are mountain ranges that both protected Datong and made it a stop for camel trains heading north. They traded religion as much as tea or spice. Datong has sheltered Buddhism and it’s best known for the Yunguang Caves, where thousands of sculptures were carved into the sandstone cliff faces that have survived centuries. This is why we hop off the train.

But first we visit the Hanging Monastery, suspended from Heng Shan (Heng Mountain), one of China’s five sacred Taoist mountains. Taoists seek to climb each of these mountains making offerings as they go and as we approach Heng Shan small shrines appear in the hillsides. The monastery itself though is Buddhist so pilgrims gather here from both religions and there’s even a smattering of Confucianism. The monastery has been routinely trashed over years, but has been balancing three religions on this cliff face since the Northern Wei dynasty (AD386-534).

And it’s a precarious balance. Stilts built into the rock support the building but every footstep creaks with weight and another large tour group bounces the structure under us. I’m reminded of every Indiana Jones film where someone would almost certainly hack out a stilt from under this relic and the whole building would slide into the trickle of water below in Jinlong Canyon.

To take my mind off how narrowly we seem to be defying gravity, I ask why so many of the Buddhist statues have been beheaded. “Red Guards,” our guide says flatly. You can build a miracle into a cliff face but you can’t defy the Cultural Revolution.

Onward to Yunguan Caves

Statue of Buddha at Yunguan Caves

We make for Yunguan Caves. More than 250 caves of varying sizes were carved into this 1km stretch of Wuzhou Shan. Because Datong was on major trade route, the caves reflect how Buddhism adapted to China. Earlier caves feature Hindu gods like Vishnu and Shiva, but the latest feature Buddhas who are more Chinese looking as the religion journeyed East.

With more than 500,000 statues from tiny intricate carvings to the 14 meter-high Sayamuni, Buddha burnout is a real risk. A slow wander to appreciate the little differences is ideal, but our guide hurries us along.

On the way back into town small structures pimple the surrounding ridges. These beacon towers from the Ming Dynasty are reminders of the strategic importance of Datong as it was a line of defence against the Mongol hordes to the north. The Mongols swept down to sack Beijing and stretched beyond the reach of the Trans-Siberian with an empire that went as far as Germany.

And in this empire, synonymous with barbarians and Genghis Khan, is our next destination.

-George Dunford

Editor’s note: George Dunford is the author of several Lonely Planet books including The Big Trip: Your Ultimate Guide to Gap Years and Overseas Adventures. George is sending us the occasional trip report from the road as he makes his way from Beijing to St Petersburg, as long as the Great Firewall cooperates.

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