Digging myself a whole trench full of trouble. Everyone knows the Northern Lights are capricious at best, downright elusive the rest of the time.

But since childhood I’d wanted to see them. Lured by photographs, stories, the magical nature of them – it was on my list of life aims, and I’d already ticked off the Pyramids and climbing Everest (okay, one of these is a lie). So here I was in Iceland. This was my chance.

Iceland: Cold, crisp, cloudless

I’d been told about the three Cs: Cold, Crisp, Cloudless. There are the three essential climatic factors necessary for the aurora to do its thing. Gazing out the bus window at the end of a long day touring the Golden Circle (Pingvellir, Gullfoss and Geysir), I realised it was certainly a cloudless night; I could see the mere sliver of a moon rising over the plains. Stepping off the bus at our last stop in the steamy thermal town of Hveragerdi, I realised it was also cold and crisp. Very, for both.

The magical green lights of the Aurora Borealis

Whipping out my phone I rang my resident friend in Reykjavik for advice. She’d also never seen the Aurora even though she’d lived there for a year. But whenever she mentioned it to Icelandic friends they shrugged, said: “Oh, you can see that anytime.”

How casual we are about what’s on our doorstep. But this wouldn’t be my doorstep much longer and I revved my friend up to sharing my belief that tonight was the night the skies would dance for us.

On your mark, get set, shine

Reaching the bus terminal in Reykjavik, I joined the queue to buy tickets for a Northern Lights Tour. As if six hours on a bus already that day had not been enough for me. Obviously I was not the only true believer in the three-C quality of that night – 70 people were booked for the tour! And that was only one company. Several other operators in town were herding fellow seekers onto buses at various times in the evening.

We’d debated just getting my friend’s car and heading out of town alone, away from the city lights. But again, that Icelandic shrug in the face of where we should go to optimise our chances of seeing the lights: “You see them everywhere. Or nowhere. North is good. Far north.”

Thanks, but not helpful.

We decided to increase the odds by joining the bus tour. Surely they’d know how to entice the magic out of the sky. My friend and I exchanged a look as the doors closed and our guide cheerfully announced we would be heading south!

Our spirits rose a moment later when he finished a phone call and announced that his friend in the south coast town on Vik had just reported that the northern lights were going crazy tonight. Seventy happy people cheered. Even if half of us wondered if he always started the tour with that announcement.

Next stop, Aurora Borealis

A cheerful local with anecdotes to keep us entertained on the dark and anxious road ahead, he told us that we were the same as whale-watchers: our job was to be constantly alert, yelling out if we saw anything flickering in the sky. Obediently we all stared out into the darkness, trying not to be blinded by passing headlights, or yell out at every passing aeroplane.

As we drove on, he told us stories of his days in the local rescue squad, having to assist people on the highway when sudden snowfalls vanquished inadequate cars. Suddenly I understood why everyone in Iceland drives such huge four wheel drives down such narrow city streets. Forgiven. Now if they could just learn to park the damn things…

Lulled by the hum of the bus, I gazed tiredly out the window, looking at the white light reflecting off the undersides of clouds. For a small city, Reykjavik certainly threw a lot of light pollution! Or not! The guide announced we had ‘activitiy’ in the sky and the driver looked for a side road to pull onto. We were like kids nearing a candyshop as we all pulled on coats and hats and jumped up and down in our seats. Finally, he found a suitable spot and we all piled out.

People ran up the embankment, trampling years old moss in their haste to raise their cameras and capture this phenomenon. I stared and nodded excitedly into the dark alongside my friend, but really, deep inside, my heart was breaking. Was this it? Because it really did look like light pollution. Where were the colours? The shimmery dancing movements?

As my spirits dropped, and camera flashes piercing the dark messed with my pupils, I stepped around the moss and climbed back onto the bus. Somewhere in my bag I had emergency Sirius brand chocolate, Iceland’s finest; right now I needed it.

George Clooney? Whatever

Finally everyone was herded back on board and we continued our journey south. I sucked on the chocolate and tried to make appropriately enthusiastic noises about what we’d seen. Perhaps this was what meeting George Clooney in person would be like. I made a mental note to scrap that off my list.

Another half an hour and more ‘activity’ was spotted. We rugged up, pulled over and piled out. My spirits lifted a little: there was a definite tinge of green. And was that pink over there? Sure, it still looked a little like thin cloud. The Milky Way with a bit of food dye splashed on. But it was pretty. And, if not for all those damn camera flashes going off, it would be a pretty nice moment. Kind of like a first kiss with a guy you used to think was a prince. Hmm, mental note to take kissing Clooney off my list.

By the time the ‘activity’ faded away, we were all so cold we were happy to get back on the bus. We headed into a small town – who knows its name but there were boats, fish factories, and corrugated iron houses: I challenge you to tell that apart from the next Icelandic town in the dark! Here we had a quick chocolate buying frenzy and toilet break. The girls behind the counter looked none too happy to see 20 women line up for the bathroom – apparently there was a barn dance in town that night and they were keen to be strutting their stuff.

Finally one brave soul broke ranks and headed into the deserted Men’s. A few others followed, one woman exiting as if she’d just experienced the most exciting taboo shattering of her life. A memorable tour for her definitely.

Our guide announced that he was not sure we would see much more that evening so we were going to head back to town. We’d been on the hunt for over two hours already and everyone was cold and tired so there were no complaints. Although I have to say I remained a bit saddened by the lack of spectacle. Was this really the Northern Lights?

Then my friend, the semi-local, confessed she’s been chatting to the guide, practising her Icelandic, while the rest of us craned our necks at the sky. He’d told her that there is a scale of 0 to 5 for the Aurora with 0 being the lowest strength; unfortunately tonight was a 0. But I was actually heartened by the news: it did get better than this! I just knew it had to! Yippee.

And better it got.

The aurora of my dreams

As we were nearing Reykjavik, there was a shout and the bus stopped. Obediently we bundled into coats and hats and scarves and gloves, and left our warm, comfy seats. And wow! The sky was on fire! This was the Aurora as I had hoped. And it was still probably only a 2.

Huge swathes of colour swirled in the sky, greeny, pinky. Always shifting and changing. Then a band of light would suddenly dance across the sky, shimmering and flickering, moving swiftly past before disappearing. We distinctly saw a face form in one corner and gasped. As quickly it was gone but I nearly became a Believer on the spot. Perhaps it was five minutes, perhaps half an hour, then the magic was over. My neck was sore and I didn’t care.

I’d seen the Aurora and I was a very happy woman.

Heading back to the city, I discovered the reason others had persisted with their camera flashes when I’d got nothing. (Yes, I admit, I started the night trying to photograph it too, before I realised it was futile and I just enjoyed the moment instead.) The secret is long shutter speed, and apparently shining a light beam into the camera lens. Don’t ask me for whys and hows; I’m just telling you what I heard.

But with or without camera, go to Iceland. Go Aurora hunting. There’s no guarantee you’ll see it, this being one of nature’s most fragile tricks. But if you do… Wowza!

-Phillipa Burne

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s Iceland tours & things to do in Iceland, including the Golden Circle Tour and an Aurora Borealis night tour from Reykjavik.

Rosemarie, last year's contest winner, on her Sydney New Year's Eve Cruise

Sydney is home to one of the world’s most famous New Year’s Eve celebrations. The fireworks display is second to none, the weather is warm & sunny, and the atmosphere is simply unbeatable.

This year, you can go as a VIP by entering to win 2 free tickets on a Sydney Harbour New Year’s Eve Cruise. Cruise Sydney Harbour in style aboard the Bella Vista, see the sights of Sydney and the harbour as the sun goes down and the city lights up the sky. At 9pm you’ll have a front-row seat for the Harbour of Light Parade, made up of 50 invited vessels decorated in rope-light. Continue to drink and dance the night away until the spectacular midnight fireworks show.

How do I enter?

Simply leave a reply for this post below to enter our “Sydney New Year’s Eve Harbour Cruise” contest. Like we did last year, we want you to answer one simple question: “Why should Viator send YOU on a Sydney Harbour New Year’s Eve Cruise?”.

Entries must be submitted by December 15, 2009. Winners will be announced on December 17, 2009.

Of course, there is a catch! We are only accepting replies that are 10 words or less! That’s right, answer the question “Why should we send YOU on a Sydney Harbour New Year’s Eve Cruise?” in 10 words or less, and you could win 2 free tickets* for a Sydney Harbour New Year’s Eve Cruise.

You can enter our contest as many times as you like, but remember, your reply must be 10 words or less or it will not be considered.

Sydney Harbour at sunset

Good luck! See you in Sydney for New Year’s Eve 2009!

-The Viator Team

* Our staff will pick the entry that we think best answers the question above, in 10 words or less. We are providing 2 free tickets on a Sydney Harbour New Year’s Eve Cruise. Airfare, hotel, taxes, and any other expenses are not included. We provide an unforgettable night of entertainment on New Year’s Eve, you need to get there on your own!  If you need a place to stay, check out hotels in Sydney on Planetware.com.

The 2010 Passion Play in Oberammergau, Germany, is a once-a-decade event that takes over, consumes, and essentially overwhelms the entire town of Oberammergau. Once every 10 years, more than half of this Bavarian village’s 5,000 inhabitants take part as actors in the world-famous Oberammergau Passion Play.

Stage of the Oberammergau Passion Play

The local residents join together with director Christian Stückl (manager of Munich’s renowned Volkstheater), stage designer Stefan Hageneier, and music directors Markus Zwink and Michael Bocklet to stage this solemn and meticulous play depicting the suffering and death of Jesus the Nazarene. The plot has not changed in structure since the first performance in 1634; it begins with Christ’s entry into Jerusalem on a donkey, and winds up with a dramatic Crucifixion scene.

Scene from the Oberammergau Passion Play

This highly emotional play is expected to be watched by more than 500,000 people between May and October 2010, over a series of 102 performances. This is the 41st performance of the Oberammergau Passion Play itself - it’s always performed once a decade, and has been since 1634.

Why Oberammergau, you may ask?

The answer can be traced back to one of several outbreaks of the bubonic plague that struck Europe in medieval times. When faced with the horror of the disease in 1633, the villagers of Oberammergau vowed to perform a Passion Play both the next year and every 10 years thereafter, should they be spared from the disease.

Houses in Oberammergau

In 1634 they kept their promise and the Oberammergau Passion Play was born. Only twice (due to political reasons in 1770 and the World War II in 1940) has the Passion Play not taken place. Nowadays it is a permanent feature, held the last year in each decade here in Oberammergau.

How is the play organized?

As you would expect from an event organized in Germany, no detail is left to chance in the planning of the Passion Play! The cast, who must be born in Oberammergau or have resided here for at least 20 years, are chosen a full year in advance of the first play. Why? Mainly because the men must grow out their hair and facial hair to effectively depict their characters.

Where can I find tickets to the Oberammergau Passion Play?

Ah, we thought you’d never ask!

It is very, very difficult to book tickets. The Passion Play ticket policy requires that all tickets for non-German residents are reserved by tour operators and sold as part of tour packages. That’s where we can help. We at Viator have searched hard to source the best-value package and are delighted to present our 3-Day Oberammergau Passion Play tour from Munich.

The tour - which includes train travel from Munich, a choice of two accommodation options and two “category two” tickets for the Passion Play - is ideal for people who want to see the Passion Play without being restricted to a specific tour itinerary. In other words, it’s perfect if you are holidaying in central Europe next summer and are desperate to witness this unique event, but want a degree of flexibility and independence on the way.

Be warned: all tickets must be returned to the Passion Play office a full 3 months prior to every performance date, so book now to guarantee your seat at Oberammergau 2010!

-Viator Travel Team

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s Munich tours & things to do in Munich, including multi-day tours from Munich.

You could show them to your friends and family again, but apparently that is boring (note to self: why aren’t people more interested in my personal travels??) and results in a lonely life.

So instead, spice up the photos with some cool effects then share them around – you’ll get a much better response and have some fun in the meantime. One of my favourite effects is to make a photo look as though it was taken of a toy instead of the real thing. The effect is created by shrinking the depth of field so the photo looks as if it was taken with a macro (closeup) lens. It also helps to increase the colour saturation to make things look like plastic and more toy like.

Geeking out with your travel photos

When this effect was first introduced a year or two ago, it was very time consuming and required Photoshop expertise to get a good result. Fortunately for us, some smart folks made a website that does all the hard work! Better yet, it’s free at Tiltshiftmaker.com. Load your photo by either entering a link to an online photo or uploading an image directly.

Once the image is loaded, you can move the focus point around (as well as shrink or enlarge it). There are lots more settings, but I’ve found the defaults to be fine for generating very cool toy-like photos. Here are some examples I made:

San Francisco Balcony... and the toy version

This is a rooftop terrace I could see from my hotel balcony in Japan Town, San Francisco. When I took the photo I was fascinated by the details, but the end result was a bit busy and not too interesting. After adding the fake model effects, you can see it’s much more fun and I’ve had a couple people argue with me that it HAD to be a toy model! I had to show them the original photos to convince them otherwise.

MOMA, or plaything?

This photo of MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) in NYC was also a bit of a letdown in its original form but after manipulation it became a scene from an architect’s model. I love the way even the people look like toys from a model railroad setup.

Grand Central Toy Station

The last example is New York’s Grand Central Station. The original was the same as a million other photos taken by tourists like me, but with some tilt and shift action it becomes a miniature world of commuters, racing to the next HO-scale train.

Tips on making playthings of your photos

Not all photos are good candidates for fake model effects. I found photos taken from above, so it feels like the viewer is a giant looking down at a scale model work the best. It’s also important that any people in the photos appear to be fairly small so they are not too easily recognised as the real thing.

Lastly it helps if the photo does not include a massively complex background (like a city or something) as it makes the scene a bit unbelievable (who’d build a 50 block model city?). Remember we’re trying to trick the viewer’s brain into perceiving the photo is of a model.

Give it a go – it’s lots of fun and very easy to do. Your friends and family will actually enjoy revisiting your travel photos and it will help fill the time until you can experience the real thing again yourself!

-Jeff Lewis

San Calisto catacomb in Rome

We are introduced to our guide – Angelo. It turns out we are all early and so head off ahead of schedule – first stop is a comfortable tour bus. The title of the tour is Crypts and Catacombs and so aptly our first destination is the catacombs of Saint Calisto – one small part of a huge network of catacombs in Rome.

Rome’s catacombs: A little history

As we work our way across the tapestry that is ancient and modern Rome, Angelo fills us in on the background of the catacombs and the reason for their existence. The Catacombs are basically underground burial chambers dug outside the walls of Rome by the early Christians. They are something of an enigma as they were created at a time when Christianity was illegal in the Roman Empire and yet this huge network spanning almost 150 miles in total was allowed to flourish.

In the capable hands of our guide

Angelo informs us that for the early Christians it was vital to be buried whole due to a very literal belief in the resurrection. Contemporary Romans were, in contrast, being cremated in what was seen as a far more hygienic method of disposal (for them, the Day of Judgment was of little importance and the idea of having intact bodies being buried inside the walls of Rome anathema).

Once outside the ancient walls we wind our way down the Appia Antica – one of Rome’s most ancient of roads. The city has given way to fields and Roman ruins and a large flock of sheep munch at the grass. Soon we arrive at the Catacombs of Saint Calisto and with a long bamboo stick to hand Angelo gives us a brief rundown of how they were built and how the earth called Tufa is perfect for the job (soft to dig but hardens nicely once left in contact with the air).

Descending into the catacombs of Rome

The time to head underground arrives (unfortunately photography is not allowed, in respect to the dead and buried Christians). As we descend the air becomes dank and clammy and it’s a little chilly. Immediately we enter high corridors cut into the earth with banks of little tombs cut into the sides of varying sizes. Angelo guides us to various points of interest which include high ventilation shafts, a papal room which unfortunately had clearly been ransacked before restoration but which nonetheless was the burial site of some very early Popes.

Into the catacombs!

We continue down more labyrinthine alleys full of tombs to rooms containing simple and strangely innocent frescoes where families would have been buried. The atmosphere is strange and not very comfortable. There is a sense of the place being emptied and indeed Angelo had mentioned that the Barbarians and had a bit of a rummage no doubt hoping to find some precious possessions but they would have been disappointed as the Christians were buried without precious goods and then later bone collectors would have dug out these early Christians selling the bones as holy relics.

The place is a little spooky probably not helped by the fact that it is Halloween and I am relieved when we head back up into the October sunshine.

Basilica of St Clement

We head back into Rome and, not far from the Colosseum, we enter the Basilica of St Clement who Angelo has informed us on the way in, used to preach in the second century and so incensed the Romans that they sent him to the Black Sea salt mines where his ardour still persisted and at the point where he started converting soldiers they tied him to an anchor and threw him in the sea – St Cyril (creator of the Cyrillic alphabet) was said to have gathered his remains and brought him back to Rome. On entering the Basilica one is struck by the stunning beauty of the mosaic work in the apse but the tour is about crypts so we first head underground to the amazing discovery the Irish Friar Joseph Mullooly made when hearing water rushing underneath the church.

In trying to find the source of the water Mullooly succeeded in uncovering first the foundations of the early church which are interesting but pale in significance to the lower layer which reveal the site of an ancient Mithraic temple site complete with a stunning piece of sculpted marble showing Mythras slaying a bull whose blood has unfortunately been corrupted by the bite of a snake – the idea of evil entering the world.

Outside the Basilica St Clement

Angelo describes the remarkable similarities between the Mithraic cult (which was highly popular) and that of Christianity which include the seven deadly sins and the importance of the ritual of bread and wine. We enter more ancient Roman rooms and find the source of the rushing water - an ancient underwater system still alive and well. St Clement really has a magic to it that I felt needed more time to savour, particularly the Basilica itself but we head off onto the bus for the Capuchin crypt.

Jaw bones and shoulder blades at the Capuchin Crypt

This last Crypt is real live horror. We are bullied into giving a one euro donation by the woman at the door and told in no uncertain terms no photographs whatsoever are allowed. The spectacle that greets us is one of macabre sculptures made out of the bones of Capuchin monks with the stark message repeated in various forms of symbolism that our time on earth is limited and we should all look to the salvation of our souls as soon as possible. Hour glasses are sculpted out of shoulder blades and as I look above me a line of jaw bones dance one after the other across the ceiling. Skulls are piled on high like something out of a Pol Pot massacre. It’s grim with mummified monks in their habits holding court but so artfully done that it fascinates.

Once more it’s pleasant to return to the fresh air of the Via Veneto and to be told one last tasty morsel of information – that it was on the Via Veneto that the inventor of the cappuccino whilst struggling to find a name noticed the distinctive brown habit of a Capuchin monk and eureka … the cappuccino was born.

The tour is just the right length and leaves the most startling spectacle till last which helps as ones concentration starts to flag. St Clements is a very special church and warrants more time upstairs but the trip out to the Appia Antica catacombs really makes you feel that you have done a genuine bit of travelling. Overall one gets a real sense of early Christian history and its preoccupation with death.

-Laurence Belgrave

Planning a trip? Brose Viator’s Rome tours & things to do in Rome, including Rome walking tours & biking tours such as the Rome catacombs tour and the catacombs and Rome countryside walkig tour.

As I forced my relaxed muscles to work, cold air hit skin: this traditional Maori Hangi dinner better be worth it.

A ride back into Maori history

Half an hour later, rugged up and feeling like I was still steaming gently, I stood outside my hotel waiting for the tour bus. In my befuddled state, this was a confusing moment: there were tour buses and tourists everywhere. How would I know which one was mine? But I knew: not one of the slick silver modern buses, no, mine was the gaudily painted, older style functional bus. The adventure had begun.

Being greeted at the Maori Hangi, Rotorua

The cheerful tour guide welcomed us on board, and the doors clanked shut. We made a couple of stops at other hotels, went around the block, and pulled into the tourist office almost next door to my hotel – there was half an hour of my life I’d never get back! But soon we had everyone on board and headed out of Rotorua on our way to the Maori village, 15 kilometres south.

The bus was completely full and the tour guide immediately set the tone of the evening: involvement! There would be no passengers on this ride. He explained a little about Maori history and culture, declared our bus a traditional canoe and encouraged us all to grab hold of an imaginary paddle and row. As the energy fired up, the windows steamed up and we became completely enclosed in our fantasy ride back into history.

Paddling a canoe-bus into the magnificent darkness

We were headed for a traditional marae, a Maori village, and the aim of the tour was threefold: the learn, to eat and to enjoy. Our guide told us we were journeying back into the 1800s, to a traditional feast to farewell the chief’s son.

Firstly, we had to elect a chief of our tribe. He would be the one who would go through the ritual of welcome when we reached the village, make a gift to the village chief on our behalf, and hopefully show that we came in peace not war.

Naturally, the first high-spirited young guy on the bus to make a joke was elected. We cheered then sat back to gaze out into the dark; I have to admit at this point I was still not sure whether I really wanted to be in a canoe-bus heading into the cold dark night or back in the thermal pools lakeside.

Pulling up at the Tamaki Maori Village, we piled out of the bus into the darkness. We were only about 20 minute’s drive from Rotorua but this was deeply dark countryside. In fact, forest. It was spooky and magnificent at once.

How wrong we were

Our guide once again impressed on our ‘Chief’ the seriousness of the Powhiri (welcome ceremony) he was about to take part in. We were instructed not to laugh, move or talk but we could take photographs. At the point I think we were all still a little removed from the whole thing, filled with expectations of a cheesy tourist song and dance and well-rehearsed routine.

How wrong we were.

Yes, it was well rehearsed – by generations. And yes, it was put together for tourists – but with a deep underlying wish and need to communicate a culture the Maori are determined to keep alive.

A traditional 'haka' greeting at the Maori Hangi in Rotorua

We entered the village forecourt (for want of a better term) and waited. A blood-curdling scream rang out from the forest. Then the warriors came. In traditional dress, doing the traditional welcome ritual of dance, weapon challenges, war cries, and the famous Haka. The villagers tested the resolve of our chief to not offend and offer gifts. He passed their test, their chief and ours pressed noses together in a traditional greeting, and we were invited into the village. But I heard him confess to his friends that he’d been terrified. And if you’ve ever seen a Maori Haka, imagine having that aimed at you, mere feet away – a very effective way of frightening your enemies. I don’t think our Chief will forget this night in a hurry.

The chief, doing an excellent job

Walking along a floodlit path in the dark forest, we came upon the village itself and were invited to wander among the whare (houses), watch arts and crafts at work, listen to presentations about tradition and culture, and ask any questions. There were probably about a dozen huts, each showcasing a different thing: warrior training, weaving, wood carving, tattooing. As a way of teaching people about culture, it was a great set-up.

I particularly enjoyed watching the warriors intensively training then swinging around to find the corpulent chief lying in his hut snacking. He good-naturedly pointed out that his role was to be Chief, to be smart and charismatic, and not do anything physically taxing. Clearly he was doing an excellent job.

After half an hour or so, we were invited to head further into the forest to the wharenui (meeting house). Inside the long wooden house decorated with ornate traditional carvings around the door, we settled onto benches and waited.

About a dozen or more Maori in traditional costume performed a variety of songs, dances and poi twirling. Poi are balls on long strings that you swing in rhythm and dance – it’s not easy and these women (because it is traditionally a woman’s skill) were skilled. Another distinctive moves of Maori dance is a trembling hand movement, which I learnt symbolises the life force in everything.

One of the things becoming really obvious to me was the good-humour of everyone performing. They seemed really proud of their culture, very relaxed and friendly, and ready to laugh. My New Zealand friends assure me that Maori gatherings nearly always erupt into parties and singing and this one was heading that way.

The Hangi feast begins

Next we were taken to the dining hall for the traditional hangi feast. Hangi is a method of cooking food in the ground. We were shown how a huge pit is dug and then the food layered, the pit sealed and the whole thing left for hours. There is a particular order for layering the food and a special way of ensuring the pit is sealed properly, otherwise the whole thing will spoil.

Clearly, these guys are experts at hangi. The food was delicious. It’s a meaty feast, and I’m a vegetarian and a worried one having seen a pit for cooking all the food together. But the layering kept the vegetables separate and our hosts had also made allowances for the dietarily-challenged among us.

I am still not convinced that the pavlova and sticky date pudding were totally traditional Maori food – although New Zealand keeps trying to claim the pavlova as a national dish in a fierce ownership battle with Australia – but they were really delicious.

Inevitably as dinner drew to a close, singing erupted again and all the staff joined in. Our chief was presented with a thank you gift and then it was time to leave the forest – by now really quite cold – and get back onto our bus.

Too much, the magic bus

The ride into town was no less festive than the ride out with the bus driver encouraging everyone to sing their national songs. I have to say the Irish were impressive, the Americans enthusiastic and the Australians confused chaotic. (I confess to being an Australian and to having stared out into the dark night and not sung… perhaps I was thinking about how to prove pavlova in Australian.)

We reached Rotorua well fed, amused, and must better educated about Maori culture and tradition. My trip to the Tamaki Maori village was definitely worth it. Even the sceptical New Zealander friend I took along for the ride was impressed.

And there was still time for another session in the Polynesian spa pools under the stars. Bonus.

-Philippa Burne

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s New Zealand tours & things to do in New Zealand, from Rotorua tours to the Hangi Maori feast. You can also browse Hangi Maori photos.

First let me explain my reason for a budget-friendly jaunt in Spain. For while I have back-packed and couch-surfed with the best of them in days gone by, these days I prefer my travel inclusive of a few of life’s little luxuries like decent restaurants and beds without bedbugs. A recent visit to Madrid, however, came with a hefty price tag before we’d even touched down, courtesy of tickets to a Leonard Cohen concert and pre-booked lodgings in the monument to modern design that is the Hotel Peurta de America, our two reasons for visiting the Spanish capital.

Madrid on a budget? Yes, it is still possible. Maggie has suggestions for you.

We knew we had to look for ways to cut costs in other areas. With a little bit of forward planning and some bumbled Spanish phrase work, we were able to limit our supplementary spending considerably and still see some of the best Madrid has to offer.

Making the most of your euros in Madrid

Madrid is no rambler’s paradise. It lacks Barcelona’s labyrinthine alleyways filled with smoke-stained tapas bars and quirky boutique. London, with its green spaces and Victorian buildings, is lovely to stroll through, In cities like Paris, you can happily wander for hours, rarely opening your wallet, and still feel like you have glimpsed the city’s soul. Like sharing a smile with a complete stranger across a crowded room.

Madrid, however, especially on a hot day, can be dirty, noisy, and unappealing if you don’t know where to go. More like a bad date at an amusement park. As in any big metropolis, bland pedestrian malls littered with retail chains and big name labels are fairly easy to find. In the case of Madrid, this is Gran Via for the High Street stuff and the glamorous Salamanca district (in particular Calle de Goya) for the more luxurious offerings.

Given our meagre budget, however, we weren’t keen to join the ranks of boggle eyed window shoppers. We wanted to experience a bit of the Real Madrid (pun intended). So we hopped on the train.

Eating & sleeping (not always on the cheap)

Madrid’s Metro system is vast, easy to navigate, and cheap. For 1 euro you can traverse the city, and 7.40 euros will get you 10 tickets – enough for a long weekend’s worth of travel. Clear signage displaying a simple system of colours and numbers means you can work it out as you go along. We didn’t encounter a single station without an escalator or lift, meaning that even travel with heavy suitcases was manageable. Very useful for us given that we arrived on a Friday evening just as Madrid’s streets were clogging up with taxis ferrying clubbers to lofty podiums and strobing subterranes. The Metro was a much cheaper way to get to our hotel and I suspect even marginally quicker than a cab.

Our first night in the Peurta de America - in the immaculate chamber that was the White Zaha Hadid Club Suite - revived us sufficiently to hit the streets early the next day. First thing on the agenda was the sourcing of olives and cheese, two provisions we have reluctantly discontinued since relocating to Iceland, where import duties leave a very bitter taste in one’s mouth. It’s far better, we have conceded, to enjoy proper deli goods in situ as part of the overseas experience.

Our suite at the Zaha Hadid

The sidewalk was verily slick with our own salivation from thoughts of tapas bars festooned with olives and walled with blocks of cheese. We assumed we were in for a merry old time of it. Not so. In fact, all we managed to unearth in the streets surrounding our hotel was grimy sports bars and endless offerings of potato tortilla. And then we stumbled on a supermarket, a veritable Mecca for impoverished travellers everywhere.

This particular store was filled with excitingly unfamiliar groceries (my preferred litmus test for local culture), an abundance of fresh fruit and vegies, an impressive seafood section (the crustaceans were actually moving!), and a deli section staffed by a squadron of staff dishing up olives, cheese and meats of all kinds. Ay caramba!

Stocking up on supermarket goodies, including fresh rye bread and a thrillingly inexpensive bottle of plonk, we savoured a hotel picnic back in our alabaster abode before hopping the Metro to the Chueca district – the barrio de homosexual and reportedly the place to go for good shopping, dahhling.

In & around Calle Fuencarral

Disembarking the Metro at Sol station, we unwittingly fell into the slipstream of pedestrians flowing down the pedestrian mall, making a few accidental breakthroughs in the field of deli-foraging. Contentment, thine name is Manchego cheese. Wandering with, and then against, the crowd, we discovered the usual offering of chain stores, and a couple of exceptional retail oddities, such as the fan shop and ballet store stocked full of pointe shoes and tarantella skirts, transporting me straight back to my childhood.

But the Chueca beckoned, so we made our way towards the smaller streets of Calle Fuencarral and Calle Augusto Figueroa. That’s when things started to get interesting. The way was peppered with flamboyantly gay couples and lycra-clad prostitutes. The shops were filled with cheap shoes. Mountains of them. There were boutiques of various kinds too – fashion stores, health shops, sunglasses and accessories vendors – but if you are after an affordable retail thrill in Madrid, I suggest you start with footwear. And we would have done just that, if not for the ticking clock. We had a date with Leonard.

Madrid's Museo de Reina Sofia

It’s irrelevant in a blog about frugal travel experiences, I know, but just in case you’re interested, the Leonard Cohen concert experience was sublime. After five self-effacing encores, prompted by twice as many ovations, he left me with the feeling that I had just witnessed the last of the great entertainers. Prolific, intelligent, humble, he let his songs do the talking rather than merely being the humanoid accompaniment to an expensive pyrotechnics showcase. The man and his songs are all you need. No public relations or media gimmicks required. And it’s my other half who is the diehard fan; I was essentially a tag-along.

Post-concert experience, we spent our second night in the Hadid suite sopping up the remains of the olives and wine and soaking in the cavernous bath. The height of luxury and a perfect way to recharge for another day of penny-pinching.

Madrid’s museum trail

Some forward-thinking internet research had revealed that if we visited the Museo de Reina Sofia after 2.30pm on a Saturday or from 10am-2.30pm on a Sunday, we would pay precisely nada for entry. Given that the Reina Sofia houses a staggering collection of Picassos (including Guernica, back in Spain after two years in New York), countless Dalis, Calders, Miros and other Spanish masters, this was an opportunity too good to pass up. And so we took the metro to Atocha Renfe and joined the Sunday morning crowds. This museum is big and its collection worth taking the time to appreciate. The gnashing teeth and protuberant tongues of the Picassos are offset by the uncomplicated joy of the Miros and the calm balance of the Calders. Green spaces located in the inner courtyards provide opportunity for reflection and escape from the deluge of art inside.

Next on the list was the Museo Nacional de Prado. Entrance in free on Sunday from 5-8pm. In reference to the size of the gallery’s permanent collection, three different visitor routes are suggested. We selected the one-hour route, which highlighted masterpieces by El Greco, Fra Angelica, Rubens and Rembrandt. Not bad for a free afternoon.

If ambling is your cup of sangria, stay within the streets of the historic centre and pay a visit to the Plaza Mayor and the Palacio Real de Madrid, both excellent places to capture the architectural glory of Spain. If markets are more your thing then the Sunday Rastro market, a flea market between Plaza Mayor La Latina and Puerta de Toledo that sells everything under the Spanish sun, might be a better way to spend your remaining Euros. Regrettably we had a train to catch and so had to give it a miss.

Next time.

A word of warning about Madrid: unlike its northern sister Barcelona, English speakers are apparently thin on the ground. If it’s a bargain you’re after, or some local knowledge, it’s well worth taking the time to brush up on your Espanol.

Matsuri Las Vegas

If you’re looking for a show similar in concept to Cirque du Soleil but not Cirque du Soleil, Matsuri is right up your alley. Magic, hula hoops, amazing dancing and a bit of comic relief, all with a strong sense of Japanese style.

The Matsuri show is one of the most popular in Japan, where it’s known as the “Muscle Musical” (hmm, interesting title!). It celebrates the human mind, body and spirit by engaging audience members with an interactive, physical glimpse of Japanese tradition and culture.

Get 2 free tickets to Matsuri in Las Vegas!!

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Matsuri Las Vegas

That’s right! We’ll give you 2 free tickets to Matsuri, with no blackout dates or other restrictions, for spending more than $600 on Viator.com. Our promotion ends on November 30, 2009.

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It’s that easy! Just remember to enter the promo code Matsuri at checkout - that’s the only way to qualify for our promo.

If you’re heading to Las Vegas check out our Las Vegas tours & things to do, from Grand Canyon helicopter tours to Death Valley day trips. And read some of the Matsuri reviews over on Viator, and get excited about this one-of-a-kind Vegas show.

-Viator Las Vegas Team

Growing up in the southern hemisphere, each year my mother sent me to the family dairy farm in Golden Bay, at the top of the South Island of New Zealand, for a two-month summer holiday. Celebrating Christmas with the family, picking juicy blood plums from the tree in the garden, swimming in the crystal-clear river on the property, visiting the milking shed while the cows stared mournfully at me from those deep dark eyes. A simple, innocent life in a small New Zealand country town.

New Zealand - the beauty almost breaks your heart

Now, 20 years later, New Zealand is a Mecca for national and international tourists driving along the extravagantly beautiful coastline, filling up in one of the many cafes that have sprung up on the main streets, or stocking up on supplies for the trek through Abel Tasman National Park or along the Heaphy Track.

Around the New Year there is steady stream of happy campers making their way to one of the raves further along the coast (travel tip: check out the local music shop and organic store for fliers in places like Farewell Spit, perhaps one day The Gathering will be on again). In fact, if I was showing you my New Zealand, this is where I would take you…

Suggested Itineraries in New Zealand: Christchurch to Wine Country

Start in Christchurch, on New Zealand’s South Island. It’s a very quaint town, birthplace of my grandmother, who then reinvented herself as a quintessential English lady, which I am sure has a lot to do with the mock Tudor architecture and colonial history. There is a lovely botanic garden to wander around in, the Arts Centre on Worcester Boulevard has a lively craft market, and the beaches just out of town stretch for miles with golden sands. The Wunderbar in Lyttleton is nestled over the supermarket on London St, and has a superb kitsch style with board games, open-minded hosts and spectacular views of the still working harbour.

Shop along High St, Colombo and Cashel for fabulous NZ designer clothes and incredibly stylish fashion, made with gorgeous fabrics, beautifully cut and designed to fit real women’s bodies. Drop into the Globe Café at 171 High St for coffee and cake.

Fancy a helicopter tour up Fox & Franz Josef glaciers?

Drive over Arthur’s Pass to the tiny mountain village Otira, which was overrun by artists for ‘Oblique’ in 1999, and has since become a thriving creative haven. Continue on to Greymouth, and turn right for some of the wildest, most rugged and spectacular coastline you will see in your life – The Piano was filmed on a beach up here (ask a local which one), or drive left to the experience the effects of global warming at the rapidly disappearing Fox and Franz Josef glaciers.

The tiny coastal town of Hokitika boasts an intriguing second-hand shop and at the local pub you can find out all about the aviation disaster early last century, which explains the photos of an airplane landing in their field.

Heading back to the east, you now have a gentle drive up more beautiful coastline. There are a range of accommodation options to break the journey, from the caravan park right on the beach, to a glamorous hotel and café scene at Kaikoura where you will want to spend some time swimming with the dolphins. We wandered out to the edge of the rocks, and were amazed to see the seals frolicking and cavorting just a few metres away, although there are very strict health regulations about keeping a respectful distance from their habitat.

New Zealand: The view from Kaikoura

Once you’re ready to hit the road again, the highway drifts gently through rolling hills and blue horizons, until you come to the Marlborough Wine country. Cloudy Bay is my pick but I’m no expert, so you’re best off making your own extensive tasting tour. Find a B&B, and take advantage of the incredible range of excellent New Zealand whites produced here.

At this point you have two options, either to head straight to Picton for the sublime ferry ride through the Marlborough Sounds to Wellington, or drive West again to Nelson, and ‘over the hill’ to Golden Bay. Since this is my itinerary, I’m taking you on all the detours and tangents, as that’s the joy of travel.

Not having to keep going in one direction; you may end up headed somewhere you’ve never even heard of. And if you’re really keen, download the wine trail map before you go!

Suggested Itineraries in New Zealand: Onward to Wellington

The drive across to Nelson is only a few hours, and takes you through lovely countryside until you reach this charming town nestled into the hills. There is a veritable plethora of artisan shops selling the work of local jewelers, potters, artists and designers. The café at the very top of the hill on the main road through town has great burgers, and there is a scenic drive back down to the highway, which curves along the coast here for miles. As you travel West again, headed for Golden Bay, you will drive close to the Abel Tasman National Forest, and over what is laughingly called ‘the hill’ by locals; an incredibly steep and twisty mountain road. I always got car sick on this drive as a child, but seem to have survived unscathed this trip.

Watch the valley unfold before you as the road slowly evens out, and you soon arrive in Takaka. Once home to many an ‘alternative lifestyler’ up in the hills, the farming community now appears to be outnumbered by weekend holiday houses and adventurers. This has brought a new buzz to the main street, along with the funky cafes and shops on Main Street. The local pool on the road out of town is where I learnt to swim, with my great-aunt and some of those triathlete cousins who consider a quick run up one of the nearby hills an excellent morning activity. Not before breakfast for me, and certainly not after!

There are plenty of other options for the less actively inclined, like driving to one of the many gorgeous bays for a swim, or a stroll along the boardwalks – but no swimming in the sacred Te Waikoropupu (Pupu) Springs, just outside Takaka. The waters are some of the purest on earth, and were once used for healing and ceremonial blessings for Maoris at birth, death, arrival and departure of travelers.

The nearby walk up a mountain alongside the abandoned power plant is a fabulous three hour hike, and takes you to a sparkling clear pool at the top. It was too cold for any but the most hardy to swim even at the height of summer, but is a satisfying day trip.

The view from Chocolate Fish Cafe

If dancing is your thing, head out to Farewell Spit or one of the local beaches for the summer party season, and shake your booty to the pulse of the pacific ocean. Here you will be one of the first people in the world to see in the new year.

Retrace your steps annd drive back to Picton where we board the ferry for the three-hour trip to Wellington. This takes you through the Marlborough Sounds, truly some of the most luscious, divine scenery on the planet.

In Wellington, visit Te Papa Musuem, and make sure you stop in to the Chocolate Fish Café out along the Karaka Rd on the white sand beach, where visiting rock stars mingle with families on the colourful wooden chairs overlooking the water of Scorching Bay.

The shopping here is again superb, with the cream of local talent such as Starfish, Zambesi, Ricochet, Karen Walker and more scattered along Lambton Quay, Cuba St and Willis St.

An hour away Titahi Bay offers a stunning walk around the cliffs. Head a little further up north to Pukaha Mt Bruce, for a gorgeous walk through the forest of the magnificent wild life sanctuary, where you can see endangered birds and wildlife (Kiwi, Tuatara, Kokako, Kaka) before they are restored to their natural habitat in the forest.

After all that activity, continue in a leisurely fashion up to Rotorua and sloth around in the hot mud, where I will leave you for now.

-Jodi Rose

Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s tours and things to do in New Zealand, from Christchurch tours to things to do in Auckland to Bay of Island tours and activities.

Hello Viatorians, Viatorites, and Viatorinians!

Sorry for the long delay, but I am happy to announce that the next installment of Atlas Obscura’s wonder-inspiring, off-the-beaten-path places that don’t make it into traditional guidebooks is here! This week’s theme is appropriately halloweeny, three Cemeteries, each bizarre and creepy in its own way!

Highgate Cemetery, London

The Merry Cemetery, Romania

The merry cemetery in Săpânţa, Romania is unusual in the candor of its gravestones. Displayed on the wooden crosses in bright pictures and annotated with limericks, are the illustrated lives and deaths of almost everyone who has passed away in the town of Sapanta.

Illustrated crosses depict soldiers being beheaded, a townsperson being hit by a truck, and a man drinking himself to death. The epigraphs reveal a surprising level of frankness. “Underneath this heavy cross. Lies my mother in law poor…Try not to wake her up. For if she comes back home. She’ll bite my head off.”

Merry Cemetery, Sapanta - Romania

Another reads “Ioan Toaderu loved horses. One more thing he loved very much. To sit at a table in a bar. Next to someone else’s wife.”

Highgate Cemetery, London

The story of Highgate Cemetery in London is so outlandish, you couldn’t make it up if you tried. Once one of London’s nicest Victorian burial grounds, by the 1960s it was a dilapidated mess. Used as a location for the infamous Hammer horror films, the site became the focus of a modern “vampire hunt” after witnesses claimed to have seen one.

Two magicians led a battle of one-upmanship to find and kill the supposed vampire. Though no vampire was found the hunters dug up real tombs, staked actual dead bodies and left beheaded (already dead to begin with) corpses strewn throughout 1970s London. It culminated on Friday the 13th in 1973 when a mob of ‘hunters’ from all over London swarmed over gates and walls into the locked cemetery, despite police efforts to control them.”

St. Sebastian’s Cemetery, Salzburg

St. Sebastian’s Cemetery, Salzburg

Medieval Europe had a thing for death. Called “memento mori” and meaning “Remember that you are mortal,” it was a standard theme for churches, paintings, and most of all cemeteries. The St. Sebastian’s Cemetery in Salzburg, Austria has memento mori in spades, covered in skulls with snakes coming from their eyes, bony figures holding hourglasses, and winged skulls, it is a true treat for anyone with a morbid streak.

Among the luminaries buried in this macabre cemetery are Mozart’s wife and father, Archbishop Wolf Dietrich who was disgraced by the church, denied burial in the Cathedral crypt and so is buried here, and Theophrastus Paracelsus alchemist, mystic, scientist and sometimes called “the father of modern medicine.”

-The Atlas Obscura Team