Matador Network's Blog, page 2189
October 9, 2014
It’s okay to hate Beijing
Photo: Matt Baume
In 2007, while on a whirlwind world tour, I spent four days in Beijing. I found that I didn’t like the city all that much. I was nearing the end of my trip, and I’d already been to a dozen other countries, so I chalked it up to fatigue and decided that, someday, I’d go back and give Beijing a second chance. I was 20 years old, at my idealistic peak, and I believed there was no place on Earth that wasn’t for me. It was a belief that was almost universal among my traveling friends: All places were wonderful, we thought, if you could just open yourself up to them.
This turned out to be bullshit. Two years later, I got the opportunity to return to Beijing to work as an intern for a Chinese newspaper. It was a nightmare. The people I worked with clearly didn’t like me — and neither did practically everyone I met in Beijing.
“Holy shit,” I remember thinking, “It’s an entire city full of assholes.” Looking back, it strikes me as being slightly more probable that I was the asshole, and that Beijingers were merely responding to me in the way one would normally respond to an asshole, but it took several years’ distance for me to reach that conclusion. While I was there, I was miserable.
I hated the food. I always seemed to order the wrong thing — one time I’m fairly certain I ate a dog spine. I had not wanted dog spine. I’m not that adventurous. My mis-ordering of food was likely due to the language being totally impenetrable to me. The only words I knew were nihau, (hello), xie xie (thank you), pijiu (beer), and Huixinxijienankou (the subway station I lived near); and I usually mispronounced all of them. I couldn’t get cabs to pick me up, and the air pollution made my phlegm and ear wax turn an alarming shade of ash black. I drank Pepto-Bismol by the bottle and learned how to properly mime “diarrhea” to a pharmacist.
The internship ended when I quit in a huff and fled to Tibet, seeking spiritual enlightenment, but instead got severe altitude sickness and a bad case of the shits. I returned to Beijing for the final two weeks and curled up on my subletted apartment’s couch, where I watched the only English-language movie I could find: a horrible B-movie remake of a much better Korean romcom called My Sassy Girl. It played on a loop, and I wept every single time the couple ended up together at the end. When I finally left Beijing, I knew I’d never come back.
As long as I was willing to go anywhere at least once, and as long I was willing to give every place I visited a fair chance, I could still think of myself as open-minded.
Hardcore travelers are turd-polishers by nature. If they hate a place, they don’t say, “I’d rather be sodomized by a pineapple than go back.” Instead, they say, “It was so unique! So different from home! And the food! Wow! I didn’t know you could cook armadillo into a stew, or that rat tail was so gamey!”
When I got back from Beijing, though, I couldn’t find anything pleasant to say. “How was Beijing?” people would ask. It was the most I could do to not take advantage of my newly discovered miming skills. I certainly couldn’t say anything nice about it, but I didn’t want to come across as a shitty, close-minded tourist.
A few years later, I was at my office job when a coworker started ripping on London. “What a shithole,” she said. “It’s cloudy and gray and dirty and everyone is rude and has bad teeth.” I immediately jumped to my favorite city’s defense, and was taken aback when she said, “It just wasn’t for me.”
It was as if a door opened. Of course there was nothing objectively “wrong” with Beijing. Thousands, even millions have loved that city. It just “wasn’t for me.” A preference for certain cities or locales suddenly became a matter of taste, not of closed-mindedness. It was the same thing as having a preference for a certain type of music. Granted, disliking London was kinda like disliking the Beatles, whereas not being into Beijing was more like hating Nickelback, but still — neither position was right or wrong. It was a matter of taste.
And it still allowed me to be a decent world traveler. Because it’s not a sign of open-mindedness to love everything. That’s a sign of being a non-discriminating fool. As long as I was willing to go anywhere at least once, and as long I was willing to give every place I visited a fair chance, I could still think of myself as open-minded.
But I no longer allow myself to talk trash about Beijing. It is an objectively cool city. The Summer Palace, the Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, the Night Market — they’re all pretty awesome travel destinations, and I can conceive of a traveler having a much better set of experiences there than those that I had. It’s simply a matter of taste. And to my totally subjective palette, Beijing will always taste pretty fucking gross. 
23 signs you were born to travel
Photo: nat urazmetova
1. You can make friends anywhere, but are just as happy to sit in silence by yourself.
2. You’ve always been willing to try anything once. Except maybe heroin and Kopi Luwak coffee.
3. You have very specific airport security and customs strategies.
4. You’ve always been good at Tetris, and understand how to translate those skills into a real life packing scenario.
5. You know the word for “Cheers” in seventeen languages.
6. Your decorating style relies heavily on maps.
7. The term “All Inclusive” makes you gag.
8. The first thing you think when you see a motorcycle is “freedom” and not “crushed skull.”
9. You’ve held on to a demolished pair of old jeans because the rips and wear on them all have corresponding stories from abroad.
10. You consider your medical history full of exotic diseases to be more like a trophy case.
11. You’ve never had an issue with taking the longer route as long as you have good company or a decent book.
12. You’re praying for the airline to bump you off your boring business trip flight so you can get the free credits.
13. You have — at least at one point in your life — thought of an RV as a better investment than a house.
More like this: 23 signs you might be addicted to travel
14. You’ve never actually finished a checklist because you can’t stop adding things to it.
15. Your measure of whether someone is a good friend or not is, “Would he be a dick to me after being awake for 17 hours straight on a non-sleeper train?”
16. Over the course of your entire life, you’ve spent months in train stations, bus terminals, and airports.
17. You’re less interested in jobs that offer two-weeks vacation and more interested in jobs that offer year-long sabbaticals.
18. You’ve always thought “Curiosity killed the cat” is a dumb proverb. And even if it’s true: good for the cat.
19. You’ve daydreamed about working for National Geographic.
20. You have a dog-eared copy of On the Road, Into the Wild, The Motorcycle Diaries, or Eat, Pray, Love on your nightstand pretty much all the time.
21. The idea that a lot of people do not even own a passport offends you to your core.
22. You’re okay with doing something embarrassing or stupid, as long as you’re able learn from it.
23. When people ask you, “Where do you want to go next?” You can never choose just one place.
Traveling in Putin’s shadow
Photo: Rolands Lakis
“The Baltic States and Poland are doomed. They will be wiped out. Nothing will remain there.”
— Vladimir Zhirinovsky, Deputy Speaker of the Lower House of Russia’s Parliament, in an August 11, 2014 speech.
On my way from the Riga airport to the city’s heavily touristed Old Town, I passed a car with two bumper stickers, one with Russia’s red, white, and blue flag and another which said “Fuck Fuel Economy.”
A few hours later, while joining five other Americans on a walking tour of the city’s striking Art Nouveau district, our group’s attention was momentarily diverted from our Latvian guide as a Bentley came careening to a sudden noisy stop along the curb. A burly-faced, heavyset man in a navy blazer and black loafers without socks got out and started tinkering with his cell phone.
“He wants to show off how rich he is,” said our guide in loud, clear English. “But real rich people don’t drive cars such as this.” The heavyset man looked in our direction. “Yeah, he understands me,” said the guide. “He knows what I’m saying.”
I experienced several similar reminders of the constant tension of life in a small, vulnerable country located next to a large, rapacious empire throughout my weeklong stay in Latvia, which in addition to bordering Russia is sandwiched smack between the two other Baltic Republics, Estonia and Lithuania, on the Baltic Sea.
Most of my time was spent in the country’s capital of Riga, whose colorful mix of Baroque and Art Nouveau architecture has earned it the nickname “Paris of the East.” Tourists can happily while away their time there wandering the city’s narrow cobblestone streets, admiring the pretty buildings, and shopping for amber. However, I was interested in exploring the country’s dark history, beginning at the former KGB Headquarters, just north of the city’s Freedom Monument, which commemorates the Latvian War of Independence (1918-1920). A site of terror for decades, the Headquarters is currently host to a temporary exhibition due to close this fall.
For years, foreign powers (Russians, Germans, then Russians) have deported and/or killed significant portions of the local population. Now many young Latvians are leaving the country, whose lackluster economy can’t compete with those of other EU countries for job opportunities.
While touring the narrow, stuffy, claustrophobic basement prison cells, I learned that one reason Latvians might feel precarious about their country’s continuing existence is that they’ve only existed as an independent nation for a sum total of less than half a century. After centuries of being occupied by Swedes, Germans, Russians, Poles, and Lithuanians, Latvia became a sovereign nation after World War I. Their independence lasted for 20 years, after which they were swallowed up by the Soviet Union, thanks to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact made between Stalin and Hitler. It was during this time that Latvians first experienced Russian hospitality, which included various gruesome forms of torture and executions, often for the crime of being a Latvian patriot. Also, in Kafkaesque fashion, many Latvians were arrested for having violated Soviet law before the Soviets had even come to power in Latvia. It’s little wonder that when the Nazis came calling a year later, many Latvians mistakenly welcomed them as liberators.
One member of our tour group (this one was all European except for me) asked the young woman guiding us through the prison cells if Latvians were worried about the current situation with Russia and the Ukraine. “Very,” was her immediate answer, and then she quoted Zhirinovsky’s threat to wipe the Baltics off the map, a threat I heard quoted several times during my trip to Latvia.
Threats by a known blowhard like Zhirinovsky may seem idle talk, but when you share a border with Vladimir Putin, you’re quick to be on your guard. The fact that Lativa, like her two Baltic neighbors, is a full member of the EU and NATO is not of much reassurance. As I learned in the city’s Museum of the Occupation, located on its main square, Latvia has sought protection from the West and been disappointed before, for example after World War II, when America and Britain looked the other way as the Soviet Union gobbled up the Baltics once more.
“The West, they believe Putin’s lies,” a Lithuanian professor told me in frustration over dinner one night. “But we have firsthand experience of the Russians’ occupation.”
Another pressure on Latvia is that demographics are not on their side. For years, foreign powers (Russians, Germans, then Russians) have deported and/or killed significant portions of the local population. Now many young Latvians are leaving the country, whose lackluster economy can’t compete with those of other EU countries for job opportunities. Add to this a declining birthrate and a significant Russian-speaking population, and you have a situation that could seem ripe for a Ukraine-style insurgency.
In fact, as recently as 2007, Latvia was forced to cede claims to a sliver of the eastern part of their country called Abrene by Latvians and Pytalovsky Region by Russians, under pressure from Putin, who during negotiations said dismissively, “They’re not going to get the Pytalovsky Region; they’ll get the ears of a dead donkey.”
As I flew home from Latvia, President Obama was flying to Latvia’s neighbor Estonia in a show of NATO solidarity. However, despite the president’s usual eloquent words, I was left to wonder, are we really ready to put American lives on the line to protect the territorial integrity of the Baltic Republics? And if not, where do we draw that bright red line?
October 8, 2014
Signs you’ve never had Italian food
Photo: fabulousfabs
1. You call pasta “noodles.”
Italy actually has a law stating that dry pasta is only authentic if it’s made from durum wheat flour, preferably semolina (although in recent years, this restriction has become less enforced). The stringy, unleavened wheat-based product sometimes made with eggs is a lot heavier than traditional pasta, and is more common in German or Asian cuisine. Calling it maccheroni is a bit more acceptable, but keep in mind that, like spaghetti, these are merely types of pasta; ordering based on its actual name, like pappardelle, gemelli, or orecchiette, makes you sound like a badass.
2. You have no idea what real pizza is like.
Legit Italian pizza is a work of art. It’s not something pushed out with generically sourced toppings so that it arrives at your doorstep, cold and mottled, in 30 minutes or less. It’s not even really eaten in evenly cut, triangular slices, or meant to me shared. Pizza napoletana is more sauce than cheese, more crispy than fluffy, and more of a casual snack than a full-blown meal. Toppings are alright but are more of a bother (let me know how your peperoni pizza turns out…) than just enjoying some tomato, basil, and mozzarella wood-fired perfection.
3. You can’t properly pronounce things like pasta e fagioli, manicotti, prosciutto, guanciale, braciole, and bruschetta.
Don’t you dare try and order an Italian dish without knowing how to actually pronounce it. I cringe every time I hear an English bastardization of the things my nonna used to make for me.
4. You’re expecting to eat stuff you’ve ordered from the Olive Garden.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with a good plate of chicken parm, fettucine alfredo, shrimp scampi or mozzarella sticks — it’s just not stuff you’ll find in authentic Italian restaurants. Places in the tourist districts of any Italian city will be happy to serve you these familiar dishes at exorbitant prices, but my nonna doesn’t even know what marinara sauce is.
More like this 20 signs you were born and raised in Italy
5. You think that if it doesn’t come with pasta, it’s not really Italian.
We eat a lot of carbs, but depending on where you are, you’ll find some great pasta-less dishes as well. Meals like ossobucco, cacciatore, and soups/stews like ribollita, are usually served pasta-less. Pairing a dish with polenta, risotto, sautéed vegetables like endive, fennel, rapini, and even roasted potatoes, are all still very much Italian.
6. You still order cappuccino with your dessert.
Cappuccinos are not some light, cinnamon-spewed, fun version of coffee — the Italian version is designed to send you into hyperdrive. Cappuccino’s rich mixture of milk and espresso is considered as much of a breakfast meal as it is a morning drink. Espresso is more of a production/scientific term in Italy (simply known as caffè), and is also a very important component of Italian socialization. Black coffee or tea is served to help suppress the appetite, but it’s really just better to end the meal with more booze.
7. You dump grated cheese over everything.
Formaggio is something Italians enjoy on its own; a few slices paired with some fruit or salume is better than using cheese as a topping, like how people use salt or pepper. It can be used to flavor sauces, or create a balanced sharpness for particularly bitter meals, but some Italians think it insulting to abuse parmigiano-reggiano in any other way. There’s a lot of debate surrounding the use of cheese and Italian seafood dishes, so don’t be surprised if your Italian hosts are offended or surprised as you lightly dust your buridda.
8. You’re expecting some sort of elaborate display of exotic ingredients.
Italian food is so awesome because it doesn’t take much to make an amazing meal — tomatoes, herbs, olive oil, maybe some cheese and/or wine, and whatever meat, fish, or pasta you’re adding it to, are all you really need. Tuscan cuisine is my favorite kind of Italian food because every dish is based on what peasants used to have lying around their kitchens. Also, Italian food need not be intricately plated; the mixture of colors and shapes present themselves in a naturally appealing way.
9. You think it’s all the same cuisine, from Milan to Palermo.
You can drive from the north of Italy to the southernmost tip in a day, but the food you’ll taste will vary drastically from region to region and coast to coast. That doesn’t even include what you’ll find in Sicily, which is like a whole other world, with its sardines and cannolis. There’s even some German influence found in northern Italy near Trentino, where you can eat apple strudel and sauerkraut with canederli.
More like this 10 signs you were raised by an Italian mother
10. You feel that a one-course meal enough food.
Even for casual dinners, Italians like to serve three to four courses, distinctly defining the flavors and foods presented. Pasta is its own course, not an accompanying side. Some form of antipasto, salad, hot vegetable, main course, dessert, and coffee, are brought out at different times to lengthen out the occasion, and some super-traditional folks will have alcohol (in addition to wine) before and after everything has been devoured. If you’re not spending at least three hours at the table with friends and family, you’re doing it wrong.
11. You order spaghetti and meatballs for Christmas Eve dinner.
Hardcore Italian Catholics stick by the tradition of a meatless meal on Christmas Eve. It’s a nice excuse to gorge ourselves on seafood dishes that are otherwise too expensive to have other times of year. Experiencing a Festa dei sette pesci (Feast of the Seven Fishes) is definitely worth it, but don’t be surprised if your dinner host serves up to 15 different types of fish and shellfish.
Rome, Pisa, & Vatican City [vid]
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I HAD THE PLEASURE of meeting and working with Devin Graham (aka devinsupertramp) on a recent trip to the Great Bear Rainforest in British Columbia. I had a lot of questions for him about his gear; I was astounded at what it takes to produce the quality videos he and his team make. For one, a super slow-mo camera that has the capability to capture 3000 frames per second (fps), although he said they normally shoot at 1000 fps. At that frame rate, 4 seconds of video takes 11 GB of harddrive space (it can only do 4 second bursts).
This video of Rome, Pisa, and Vatican City is the first video they’ve produced that combines footage from their RED Dragon (a super high resolution camera) and timelapse and super slow motion effects. Make sure to watch it in at least 1080p HD (although it’s also available in 4K!). 
The story of Iceland's green economy
Photo: Bragi Thor
Iceland holds the honorable title of the world’s leading clean-energy economy and its president, Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson, is a relentless advocate of sustainable development. Earlier this year, I attended a seminar in which he shared lessons his country has learned about building and sustaining a green economy.
Here are a few takeaways that can help your country ignite a green economy.
1. Switching to alternative energy isn’t as costly as you think.
“The solution lies in a complete energy transformation from fossil fuel dependence to alternative energy,” Grímsson said.
Until the 1970s, Iceland was classified a developing country by the United Nations Development Programme. For centuries it was among the poorest in Europe, a nation of subsistence farmers and fishermen with 85% of its electricity coming from imported coal. Today, almost 100% of Iceland’s electricity and heat is generated from domestic renewable sources, mainly geothermal. Shifting from sending money overseas for coal to paying local electricity providers has saved Iceland the net profit of half of its GDP in 10 years.
2. Sustainable development is a profitable business.
Grímsson encourages a global discussion that positions the economy in the center of the conversation. “I bet things will be different when the world realizes what a profitable enterprise this energy shift is,” he said.
Engaging countries in sustainable development, while at the same time building profitable enterprises, starts with empowering people and communities to create sustainable businesses. “It is time to realize that this is a positive, economic, profitable change,” Grímsson added.
3. You hold the power.
Iceland’s politicians never mandated the switch to renewables. Instead, the change was made house by house, street by street, city by city, and district by district.
This bottom-up approach provided multiple business opportunities in the clean-energy sector — initiatives were led by local communities, small villages, individual entrepreneurs, and techonocrats. Over time, it created a dynamic of sustainable-business innovation and resulted in a complete national transformation. As a result, people now enjoy their electricity and heating services at a much cheaper rate.
4. This is a rare chance to do something good and make a profit.
“Building a green economy is paradoxically an area to be morally correct while making serious money. You can’t say the same for most of our current economic affairs,” said Grímsson.
5. Cultivating a green economy is an investment in the future.
Five years ago, the Icelandic banks collapsed. With its new economic model, the country has taught a valuable lesson to other European nations on how to survive a major financial hit. Thanks to the lasting investment in clean energy that started decades ago, today Iceland has 3% annual economic growth, and less than 5% unemployment. The cost of power and heat has significantly decreased, increasing the economic standards for families and decreasing production costs for industry.
6. If you build it, they will come.
The energy shift turned Iceland into a magnet for large foreign investment. Some of the biggest aluminum smelters, data-storage centers, and IT brands in the world are based there due to the long-term availability of clean energy at fixed prices. The strong marketing positioning it gives them doesn’t hurt either.
7. Eat what you grow.
To enhance the country’s food security, the local network of farming families capitalized on local greenhouse cultivation methods. This nation knows exactly where its food comes from and how it’s grown, organically behind glass walls or in fish farms.
Iceland is now the home of the biggest (glass-enclosed) banana plantation in Europe, and it’s seeking the title of the largest exporter of organic tomatoes in Europe.
8. Food security is everyone’s concern.
Enough food is probably produced in the world for everybody — the problem is in the storage technologies that most developing countries can’t afford. Thirty years ago, Icelandic fishermen came up with an idea to increase the storage time of fish heads and spines from a few days to up to two years. These fishy parts used to be thrown back into the ocean, but now Iceland exports them to Nigeria as a foodstuff, after it undergoes an elementary drying process utilizing geothermal heat. This operation required zero infrastructure cost and has proven commercially viable for both countries.
9. Ecotourism is a budding cash cow.
A country with such epic natural beauty as Iceland will inevitably attract ecotourism. But Iceland takes it a step further by linking some of its most-popular attractions with the green economy.
Take the Blue Lagoon for example: the most-popular attraction in Iceland sees more than 600,000 annual visitors in a country with an entire population of only about 323,000. In essence, the Blue Lagoon is nothing but an overflow of hot water from the Svartsengi geothermal plant. It didn’t exist 30 years ago. It was created by clever Icelandic engineers to attract tourists who pay 40 euros to bathe in the magical, steaming blue water.
Another popular tourist attraction in Reykjavík is the Perlan revolving restaurant complex, which sits on top of geothermal tanks and provides a fantastic panoramic view of the city.
10. Education is key.
Iceland isn’t just an example of green living; it’s also doing its part to heal the globe by trading sustainability education through its UN Geothermal Training Programme. It has trained more than 400 professionals from developing countries with geothermal potential since 1979, which has in turn led to the establishment of profitable diplomatic investments.
Moreover, Icelandic researchers, engineers, and scientists are involved in fruitful sustainable development projects in more than 40 countries around the world. Obviously, this small nation has big things to say on sustainable energy.
11. It’s not all about you — give others a hand.
On a diplomatic level, Iceland has developed partnerships with other geothermal-rich countries that are eager to copy its example, like Russia, the Philippines, Indonesia, and numerous Western and Eastern Europe nations.
In China, Iceland is helping Sinopec replace coal power stations with local geothermal heating. Also, Reykjavik Geothermal broke ground in July on the largest geothermal power plant in Africa, in Ethiopia’s Corbetti Caldera region, a flagship project that’s critically important for the continent.
12. Think outside the box.
The possibility of exporting electricity from Iceland to the UK via an ocean cable has recently emerged. Looking to upgrade its national grid, the UK is seeking new ways to develop electricity using renewable means and a link from Iceland might be the answer. Unless the UK (like Germany, the Netherlands, and other European nations) gains access to it, its entire energy system could degrade over the next few decades.
Hydro-rich European countries — notably in Scandinavia — are working on creating a network of underwater ocean cables to help neighboring countries avoid future electricity shortages. Norway extended such a cable to the Netherlands, and has already recovered its investment.
The world's most remote structures
Located on the island of Vágar in the Faroe Islands, this tiny village only became accessible by car in 2004. In 2012, Gásadalur had a population of 18. While possessing breathtaking views, its inaccessibility makes the site both difficult to visit and difficult to live in.
2. The Crystal Mill – Crystal, Colorado, USA
A wooden “power plant” built in the 1890s, the Crystal Mill is on Colorado’s Crystal River. The difficult-to-access structure was added to the National Register of Historic Places on July 5, 1985. The site remains privately owned and is not “open for public inspection.”
3. Casa do Penedo (House of Stone) – Guimarães, Fafe Mountains, Portugal
While this Portugal home appears to be straight out of The Flintstones, it was actually built in 1974. The structure receives no electricity, so candles are the preferred form of lighting. Used as a holiday retreat, Casa do Penedo is still made up of the four original boulders with which it was built.
4. Park Hyatt Maldives Hadahaa – Huvadhu Atoll, Maldives
The Republic of the Maldives, 370 miles off the coast of southern India, is an island nation that contains dozens of atolls. The Park Hyatt Maldives Hadahaa is one of the many luxury resorts that can be found in the nation — it’s hard not to feel secluded when you have your own villa sitting on the water.
5. Bishop Rock – Isles of Scilly, Great Britain
The Guinness Book of World Records lists Bishop Rock, 28 miles off the coast of Cornwall, as the smallest island in the world with a building on it — in this case, a lighthouse. The original lighthouse was built in 1847 but was swept to sea before its completion. The current lighthouse was first lit in 1858.
6. La Rinconada – Peru
At an elevation of 16,700 feet, La Rinconada is considered the highest inhabited settlement in the world. The city, which has no plumbing and no sanitation system, is well known for its location near a gold mine. Unsurprisingly, the city’s economy is mainly based on gold mining.
7. Katskhi Pillar – Imereti, Georgia
A church dedicated to Saint Maximus sits atop the Katshki Pillar at about 130 feet high. The church contains a wine cellar and a crypt, among other features. The pillar wasn’t climbed by researchers until after 1944. Abandoned and ruined, the original church was restored from 2005 to 2009.
8. House on the Vestmannaeyjar Archipelago – Ellidaey Island, Iceland
This house is often referred to as the most secluded home in the world, and it’s easy to understand why. Five families inhabited the island roughly 300 years ago. The single structure on the island was originally built as a lodge for puffin hunters. Oddly, the lodge is surrounded by a fence.
9. Meteora – Thessaly, Greece
A complex of monasteries in Greece, Meteora can be translated as “suspended in the air.” The monasteries rise from precipitous sandstone pillars. Meteora is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
10. Ghost town – Kolmanskop, Namibia
A ghost town in the Namib desert, Kolmanskop was formerly a mining village. Today, it’s more of a tourist destination (despite its remaining abandoned). Though it was once a bustling town, the local depletion of diamonds ultimately led to its dereliction.
11. Paro Taktsang – Paro Valley, Bhutan
A cliffside Himalayan Buddhist temple, Paro Taktsang is also known as the Tiger’s Nest. The monastery was built in its current iteration in 1692, but the site was renovated in both 1958 and 2005. The cliff on which it sits rests at an elevation of 10,240 feet.
12. Svalbard Global Seed Vault – Svalbard, Norway
As the name suggests, the Svalbard Global Seed Vault is a vault that contains a large variety of “spares” of seed samples held in gene banks all over the world. Norway’s government funded the construction of the vault. Hundreds of thousands of seed types can be found within, and the collection is always growing.
13. Church of St. Johann – Ranui, Italy
The Church of St. Johann is found in the meadows of Ranui. While not completely isolated, the small, intricately decorated church has a bucolic backdrop, thousands of trees in front of the massive Italian Dolomites.
14. Xuangongsi – Heng Shan, Shanxi, China
Also known as the Hanging Temple, Xuangongsi is a temple built into the cliffs near Mount Heng. The temple, supported by beams embedded in the cliffs’ bedrock, is said to have been constructed by a single man.
15. Tristan da Cunha – Tristan, Atlantic Ocean
Better known as Tristan, Tristan da Cunha is a group of islands distinctive for being the most remote archipelago on the entire planet. As of 2014, the island has a resident population of 297. The main settlement on the island is named Edinburgh of the Seven Seas.
16. Lukomir – Konjic, Bosnia and Herzegovina
The stone houses of Lukomir, a remote settlement high in the Dinaric Alps, are accounted one of Europe’s longest continually inhabited villages. During the winter, snow isolates residents from other highland populations, and the only means of traveling into or out of Lukomir is by foot or on skis.
17. McMurdo Station – Antarctica
A US research center in Antarctica, McMurdo Station is the continent’s largest human settlement, with a population that can reach 1,200 in the summer. McMurdo occupies the southernmost harbor in the world and is served by three seasonal airports.
18. Adrere Amellal – Siwa Oasis, Egypt
Adrere Amellal is an ecolodge in the Siwa Oasis, one of Egypt’s most secluded settlements. Due to its isolated location, the Siwa Oasis has developed a culture of its own, with characteristic pottery and wedding jewelry. Reaching the hotel is no easy feat, but those who make the journey are able to enjoy the oasis in peace.
19. Chess Pavilion – Mount Hua, China
Mount Hua is considered one of the scariest hikes in the world, and reaching the Chess Pavilion requires some fortitude. Those who make it are rewarded with a 360-degree view from the lofty point.
20. Supai – Arizona, United States
Referred to as the most remote community in the contiguous US, Supai can only be reached by foot, pack animal, or helicopter. As of 2010 the population was 208. Supai encompasses less than two square miles of land.
20 things travelers do in their 20s
Photo: Étienne Ljóni Poisson
1. Form a deep, intimate connection with a person they’ll never see again
Maybe it’s the guy they sat next to on the train, or the girl they stumbled on at a hostel party. They’ll travel together a bit, share everything, and then within two years will have forgotten each other’s names.
2. Stay in shared hostel rooms
“How could we afford not to?”
3. Have sex in shared hostel rooms
And totally think that no one noticed.
4. Fall in love with a place
And not in a hyperbolic “Oh, I love pita chips!” sense, but in a legitimate, deeply felt, heartache-y, head-over-heels, totally-in-love sense.
5. Bore the shit out of friends at home talking about their travels
Every sentence starts with, “Well, when I was in India…”
6. Overestimate how much they can do in a day
No, you probably shouldn’t walk 20 miles. No, you probably can’t see all of Paris in a day. No, there’s not enough time between those two flights for you to go ziplining.
7. Get a little too adventurous with street food
And pay for it dearly the next day.
8. Learn a single word in a language they’re spending weeks immersed in
And that word is inevitably “beer.”
9. Participate in the Tourist vs. Traveler debate
“Of course I’m a traveler and not a tourist,” they’ll say, sipping their Señor Frog’s margarita.
10. Puke at at least one internationally famous site
Your 20s is an era where hangovers don’t yet have the power to keep you in bed all day. I’ve personally puked on South Africa’s Table Mountain, and I have friends who have puked at Shakespeare’s Globe Theater, the United States Supreme Court, and Beijing’s Forbidden City.
11. Work a horrible job with the sole purpose of saving for travel
And then quit in an excessively flamboyant manner when they’ve finally saved enough.
12. Learn to skimp on such non-essentials as food and clothing in order to save for travel expenses
Also, gain an otherworldly ability to convince their parents that they’ll only be home “for a month or two.”
13. Get robbed, scammed, pickpocketed, or mugged abroad by being too irresistible of a target
And, in retrospect, be a little upset about the money/camera/passport lost, but mostly psyched about the amazing story they got out of it.
14. Post at least one horribly cliched quote in their Facebook profile
“Not all who wander are lost,” is a popular one, or the Mark Twain bit about throwing off the bowlines and sailing away from safe harbor.
15. Ask at least one foreigner a horribly cliched question about where they’re from
To Australians: “Have you ever eaten a Kangaroo?”
To Brits: “Do you know Prince William?”
To Kazakhs: “So what did you think of Borat?”
16. Take at least one horribly cliched self-portrait at a famous site
Oh look, you’re kissing the Sphinx! Oh look, you and all your friends are jumping at the same time at the Taj Mahal! Oh look, you turned the Eiffel Tower into your dick!
17. Plan at least one incredibly expensive trip around the massive party they plan on attending while there
It might be Carnaval in Rio, Mardi Gras in New Orleans, the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, or Oktoberfest in Munich: they could save hundreds of dollars by going at another time of year, but that’s not the point, dammit!
18. Go an unreasonably long time without bathing
And be proud of it.
19. Take the longest, most roundabout way possible of getting somewhere in the name of saving an almost negligible amount of money
I once took a bus from Cincinnati to Chicago, slept on the floor of O’Hare Airport, flew to Atlanta for a four-hour layover, then flew to Guatemala, where I caught a six-hour bus to San Salvador. It took 36 hours. I could’ve just flown direct and been there in seven hours, but that cost, like, $100 more.
20. Refuse to admit they’re kinda sorta happy to come back home
Their Facebook posts about how they “can’t wait to leave again for another round of travel!” belie the fact that they’re kinda loving having access to their XBox and a pizza-delivery service.
How to piss off a Brooklyn native
Photo: Michael Tapp
I was born and raised in southwest Brooklyn in a middle-class enclave of Italian and Irish Catholic families. Go one neighborhood over, and you’ll feel like you’re in China. That’s the thing about Brooklyn: Every neighborhood is different and is its own world entirely.
So which Brooklyn is the true Brooklyn? Is it the hipsters who have taken over parts of the city? The generations that have battled it out in the housing projects? The waves of immigrants who created the cultural characteristics that define each neighborhood? Or is it the people like me whose families have lived here for generations?
It’s never been easy to pinpoint. Yet despite all these differences and newcomers, there are some things that would piss off someone who is really from Brooklyn, no matter the neighborhood:
Ask us where we’re really from.
It’s difficult to find someone who was born and raised in the City, but the same isn’t true for Brooklyn. The “where are you really from” game is a good way to piss off someone from Brooklyn:
Me: “Where are you guys from?”
Hipsters: “Brooklyn…well, [the middle of nowhere] originally. Where are you from?”
Me: “Brooklyn.”
Hipsters: “Ok, but where are you really from?”
Me: “Brooklyn.”
Yes, we do exist, we are very territorial, and we are everywhere.
Ask us if Brooklyn is, like, the ghetto.
People commonly associate Brooklyn with gangstas, shootings, and stabbings, Jay-Z — which is a compliment anyway — or anything dangerous. That’s not what Brooklyn is; those are just parts of the whole. Brooklyn is an enormous city, and like every city in the ENTIRE world, it has its good and its bad parts.
Tell us that Brooklyn is so hipster.
If it’s not ghetto, then it’s hipster. More people are starting to associate Brooklyn as being the mecca of hipster culture because of Williamsburg. Their big beards and paisley shirts, combat boots with skirts and artisan cheeses don’t represent what Brooklyn is all about. Again: Brooklyn is huge. There is more to it than one group of people.
Disrespect the stoop.
I remember when my dad dropped me off at college in Pennsylvania, he said to me, “Tell your friends you hang out on your stoop. See what they say.” It was then I learned that a stoop is unique to Brooklyn.
More like this: How to piss off someone from New York City
Growing up, if I wanted to find my friends, I could find them hanging out, sitting, or playing manhunt on someone’s stoop. That’s just what we did — gangs of us congregated on one another’s stoops. It wasn’t just like we owned the block; we owned the world. Our lives unfolded on those stoops.
Ask us if Brooklyn is a part of New York City.
People tend to think Brooklyn is New York City’s neighbor (especially taxi drivers, who deny us rides and act like driving from the City to Brooklyn is crossing an international border). Actually, Brooklyn is New York City. New York City is made up of five boroughs: Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, and Staten Island (which really only semi-counts).
Call the City “Manhattan.”
Manhattan is not referred to as Manhattan; it’s the City. Yes, Brooklyn is a city, but don’t let that confuse you. It’s “I’m going into the City,” not “I’m going into Manhattan.”
Tell us that pizza and/or bagels are just as good in [insert somewhere that isn't Brooklyn] as they are in Brooklyn.
Don’t ever insult our pizza and bagels by trying to compare them to anywhere else’s. Ours are the best — all we’ll tell you is that the secret is in the water. For that matter: Don’t try to compare any of our food to yours. It’s an argument you’ll lose.
Mess with our parking spots.
Parking is a constant struggle here, and no spot is as precious as the spot directly in front of your house. There is an unspoken law that the spot in front of your house belongs to only you. God help you if you break that law.
Tell us that life is better in the suburbs.
Don’t ever try to tell us that life is better out in the suburbs where there is ‘space.’ What the hell is space? There is no such thing as space in Brooklyn; we live on top of each other, and everybody knows everyone else’s business. We learn early on that anywhere that’s not well lit — like the suburbs — is a place not to trust. Also, if you have to get in your car to go anywhere, then you’re too far.
More like this: How to piss off someone from New Jersey
Say things like, “How you doin?” or “BROOKLYN IN THE HOUSE!” when you meet us.
Sometimes I hate telling people I’m from Brooklyn because they’ll cup their hands around their mouths and let out this long “BROOOOOKLYN” howl. Or they try to do a Mickey Blue Eyes accent with a “How you doin?” It’s not funny: it’s annoying.
Make fun of our accents.
We have our own, accurate language here in Brooklyn. Don’t make fun of me when I say coffee (caw-fee), water (wuh-der), because (be-cauwze), or dog (dawg). We aren’t the ones with accents — you are. Also, don’t come here calling it ‘motz-a-rella’ or ‘mara-nara.’ It offends our fathers and grandfathers before us, and it sounds highly unattractive.
This:
14 images of the real Paraguay
ASUNCIÓN, PARAGUAY’S CAPITAL, hadn’t impressed us on our first visit. Maybe it was because it had been the region’s coldest winter in 80 years and the city looked quite depressing. After we’d run our errands — namely, replacing car batteries that had caught fire — we quickly drove on to Argentina.
A year later, we were back in Asunción with more car issues. With its dodgy tax system, Paraguay is not only the ultimate place to go shopping for electronics — especially in Ciudad del Este — but also car tires. This time it was sunny, warm, and nice to be outside. The city emanated pleasant, relaxed vibes. It felt good to be there, and our expected quick border crossing for car parts turned into a seven-week stay.
This episode taught us it’s important to give a place a second chance. Paraguay may not have the headlining attractions of its neighbors, but the country’s historical and cultural aspects deserve a visit in their own right. And of course, among our best memories of Paraguay are the open and welcoming encounters we had with the Paraguayan, Guaraní, and Mennonite citizens.
All photos by Coen Wubbels.
1
Admiring the murals of Asunción
For the last couple years, Asunción has organized international competitions for mural art (encuentros internacionales de muralismo), which has resulted in an outdoor museum of murals throughout the center of the city, varying from traditional, rural scenes to expressions of modern art. Look for them in the park next to the Presidential Palace and on Plaza de Derecho Humanos.
2
Stumbling on a festival, Asunción
If you happen to be in Paraguay during the second half of August, you may run into a big Bolivian celebration. Asunción has a large Bolivian community—in Bolivia they celebrate a three-day Urkupiña Festival, while the Paraguayan version lasts only one, but in terms of festivities, processions, and celebrations, it's just as exuberant.
3
Catching the sunset (or sunrise) at the Jesuit Missions
In the 17th century, Jesuits built reducciones in Paraguay, south Brazil, and north Argentina. Their goal was to convert Guaraní indigenous people to Catholicism while protecting them from Brazilian slave hunters. The Jesuits stimulated all forms of artistic talent, and as a result a new form of art evolved that was a mixture of traditional Guaraní symbols and designs and traditional colonial Baroque. The best-preserved ruins and UNESCO World Heritage Sites are the missions of Jesús de Tavarangue and Trinidad de Paraná. They date from 1685 and 1706, respectively, and have the largest churches of all Jesuit missions, along with remnants of the reducciones. Late afternoon or early morning are the best times to visit, when the soft light gives the ruins an air of mystery.
Intermission
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4
Driving the Trans Chaco Highway
The Trans Chaco Highway is among the least reliable roads in South America. When we drove it, it had just been paved and you could roller skate on it. In truth, though, the road had not so much been paved as painted over with a thin layer of asphalt. As a result, it's quickly deteriorated again into one of South America's worst roads, with deep potholes where cars and buses can get stuck for days during the rainy season. So if you're in for some adventure: Take the bus from Asunción to Bolivia over this 450-mile road without an itinerary. You'll pass through the harsh territory of the Chaco, as well as its Mennonite colonies.
5
Visiting a flourishing Mennonite colony in the Chaco
Throughout the centuries, the Chaco has been inhabited by indigenous tribes, few of which have survived colonization. In the beginning of the 20th century, swathes of land were given to the Mennonites, a religious order from Europe, who have turned part of the Chaco into fertile agricultural fields and cattle ranches. The best-known Mennonite colony in Paraguay is Filadelfia, which has basic facilities such as hotels. It's a good base from which to visit surrounding towns or to explore the Chaco wilderness, and to get an idea of the Mennonites’ thriving dairy economy.
6
Learning about the Amish-like lives of the Mennonites
All Mennonites may have the same origin, but their branches are about as diverse as within Protestantism, varying from moderate (e.g., Friesland, see below) to very conservative. As you travel in the Chaco, you'll come across the horse and buggy, as some Mennonites are not allowed to travel in cars or buses. Their dress and culture are comparable to those of the Amish in the United States. It's not a matter of course that you can stay in one of their villages, but if you can score an introduction, it's well worth a visit. We have beautiful memories of staying with a family for a day or two.
7
Touring Itaipú Dam, the world's largest hydroelectric power plant
Near the Brazilian border lies Ciudad del Este, not so much a tourist attraction as a shopping destination for Brazilians and Argentinians (and other foreigners) who flock here in large numbers to shop for tax-free electronics and other gadgets. Nearby lies the Itaipú Dam, where you can visit a museum and join a bus tour. It will show you the pros and cons of this overwhelming project, and you'll be bombarded with comparisons—for example, how the volume of iron and steel used to build the structure would be enough to create 380 Eiffel Towers or five Hoover Dams. The scale is pretty mind-boggling.
8
Guaraní art in Franciscan churches
Paraguay's first colonial settlements were established during the early 16th century. Well known are the Jesuits, who inhabited the southern part of Paraguay until they were expelled in 1767. Less known are the Franciscan orders that settled around Asunción. Their heritage is visible in whitewashed churches with richly painted interiors—the Baroque- and Rococo-styled altars, altarpieces, pulpits, and confessionals are masterpieces of art, the likes of which we have not seen elsewhere in South America. Among the best-maintained or restored Franciscan churches are those in Yaguarón and Atyrá. If you find a church closed—which is likely—ask around for the caretaker. You'll generally find somebody willing to open the door for you.
9
Enjoying the slow pace of life outside the city
In the countryside, you'll often travel along unpaved, red dusty roads where horses and carts are common means of transport. In some remote villages such as Valenzuela, it feels as if you've time traveled back to the 19th or 18th century. Small wooden houses, cobbled streets, and oxen and carts with huge wheels dominate the scene. Time appears to have come to a standstill here with men sitting on benches under trees, drinking tereré and watching life go by. This is not the place to be in a hurry but to enjoy the tranquility of country life.
Intermission
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10
Volunteering at a children's home
If you're into volunteer work and love kids, this may be of interest to you. Hogar de los Niños Cristo is home to 200 children varying in age from newborns to 18. It's an incredibly disciplined home run by Patricia who, after she had her own children, started adopting street children. Over time her work grew into this remarkable project. You can do good by simply being there. There's always a child who needs to be hugged, talked to, or played with. Note that girls' and boys' quarters are strictly separated and that volunteer couples have to stay in separate quarters as well and share rooms with the kids.
11
Drinking tereré with locals in Asunción
Downtown vendors sell tereré, an infusion of yerba mate with fresh herbs such as lemongrass or mint and drunk from a guampa (cattle horn). Sometimes people use orange juice or mango juice instead of water. Tereré is the perfect drink for the generally hot climate (avg. 95 degrees F) that characterizes the city.
12
Learning about Paraguay's culture and history
The capital has a number of good museums.
Museo del Barro focuses on indigenous lifestyles and pre-Columbian art. Museo Guido Boggiani (in nearby San Lorenzo) is dedicated to Guido Boggiani, the first to take a serious interest in the indigenous communities of the Chaco (19th century). Museo Etnográfico Dr. Andrés Barbero, shown above, displays among other things religious artifacts and an impressive collection of funeral urns.
13
The open-air museum of Friesland
A Mennonite colony near Asunción, Friesland is located on a side road off Ruta 3. The entire town has a manicured, Stepford-esque air to it. You can visit their museum, partly open-air, with somebody from the village explaining the Mennonites' history and their hard, impressive struggle to make a living here.
14
Relaxing at Ypacaraí Lake, San Bernardino
The attractive town of San Bernardino, with shaded cobbled streets, was only a tiny hamlet when the German traveler Guillermo Weiler arrived in 1888. He saw its potential, constructed two hotels and a harbor, and initiated regular steamboat crossings of the lake. Under his supervision a hippodrome was built, and he subsequently organized the first horse races in San Bernardino. Each year, Paraguayans flock to their "summer capital" of San Bernardino, where the sparkling blue lake of Ypacaraí brings relief from the heat. It's a nice place to get away from the city, to breathe in some fresh air and go for walks along the waterfront. The town is also a good base to visit nearby indigenous communities, where you can buy handicrafts or participate in workshops where artisans teach their crafts. If you have some money to spend, the iconic Hotel del Lago (above) would be a good place to spend the night.
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