Matador Network's Blog, page 2218

9 signs you're a tourist in Japan

Photo: Eddy Milfort

At some point, maybe a year after I moved here, I was under the delusion that I’d become a “local” in my small neighborhood in Japan. I settled into a routine. I knew half a dozen shopkeepers on my street enough to say hello and chat about the weather. I received coupons for the pizza place down the street, and then I used them. I went to a Japanese dentist and made an appointment for six months in the future, confident I’d still be here.

I hit a level of Japanese language proficiency where I entered into conversations without preemptively blushing and sweating; I knew I wouldn’t understand most of it, but I knew it’d probably work out. I felt like I belonged and like the people in my community, at least my block, were starting to accept my husband and me into their daily lives.

Then, a little more time passed, and I realized I was wrong.

I’ve never gone to Tokyo without a subway map and a camera in my hand at all times. Holidays come and go and I have no idea what my neighbors are celebrating. The rules for garbage collection change — different items, different schedule, different collection area — and no one tells me.

I’m not a local. I just live here.

I think many people are in my shoes. Foreigners come to Japan on temporary work permits and stay several years but still feel like a tourist, at least some of the time. Or maybe they just haven’t realized it yet. If any of the situations below are familiar to you, you may still be a tourist in Japan.

1. In the past year, you’ve almost walked away from a toilet because you couldn’t figure out how to flush it.

Admit it. This has happened to you. It’s definitely happened to me. Push this button on the wall. No, step on this pedal on the floor. No, press three buttons on the electronic handle that heats the seat. Just flush!

2. You’ve been to a karaoke bar but don’t know the words to “Sukiyaki.”

Or you don’t know the Japanese title of the song, or you don’t know what I’m talking about. If you do know what I’m talking about, I apologize because I’m almost certain it’s now stuck in your head.

3. You’ve never carried a mikoshi in a community festival, rung a new year’s bell, climbed Mount Fuji, or worn a kimono in public.

Some of the most iconic aspects of Japanese culture are tough to experience without a Japanese friend or tour guide to help you. Carrying a mikoshi, for example, is often done by a community group that a tourist would have a hard time joining.

4. No stranger has ever knocked once and then walked into your house yelling, “Shitsureishimasu!”

I see this happening to my neighbors all the time. Friends, delivery people, utility-company workers just walk into their houses. This has happened to me only twice, and once was a mistake that was embarrassing for us both.

It’s somehow frightening and rewarding at the same time. You feel like you’re part of the community culture, and you also wonder if the person is going to kill you.

5. Some, many, or all kanji still elude you.

The Chinese characters that make up the Japanese logographic (each character represents an idea instead of a sound) writing system are beautiful, and as I’ve learned more and more, my world feels like it’s opening up. I can read some street signs! I know whether I’m ordering chicken or beef!

But why are there so many? There are over 2,000 kanji and many have multiple meanings. It feels like a losing battle.

6. You still think it’s a little weird that 7-Eleven is a one-stop shop for everything but medical care.

The following scenario is possible: You want to go skiing in Hokkaido. You visit your local 7-Eleven and pay for a flight and charge your train IC card to make sure you have enough money to get to the airport. While you’re there you also pay all of your bills, ship your skis to your hotel, buy a nutritious snack, and maybe buy a clean t-shirt and pair of socks.

Before I moved here, I used 7-Eleven almost exclusively for taquitos and lottery tickets.

7. Recycling is tough for you sometimes.

How do I throw out a semi-used candle? Do I have to separate it into burnable (wax), glass (the container), and nonburnable (the metal piece that holds the wick)? Or do I wrap it in a piece of paper towel and pretend the whole thing is burnable?

8. Your wallet isn’t filled with point cards.

If this is the case, you’re a lunatic. Everywhere has a point card. Every point redemption system is different and confusing. None of the prizes are worth carrying so many cards around. But it’s so fun.

9. You have a huge jar of yennies you don’t know what to do with.

I periodically wrap mine and bring them to the bank, but I read online they’re worth more if you melt them down and make something out of the metal.

China's next-gen, green skyscrapers

Photo: Chetwoods Architects

Being the home of the world’s tallest building has long been a badge of honor among up-and-coming countries, but China is looking to add a new criterion to the mix: tallest and greenest. At least, that’s their plan for two towers to be built on a lake in the city of Wuhan, in central China.

The title of World’s Tallest Building currently belongs to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, which rises to a staggering 2,717 feet off the ground. That’s nearly 1,000 feet taller than the tallest building in the US and third tallest building in the world, One World Trade Center in New York.

The taller of the two towers to be built in Wuhan — the Phoenix Towers — would be 3,280 feet high.

Photo: Chetwoods Architects

The towers, which look vaguely like they belong in Candyland, are shooting to become some of the most environmentally friendly towers as well. The city of Wuhan has a number of lakes sprinkled about it, and the towers would be built on top of one of these bodies of water. The taller tower would pull in the water “through a series of filters” using “passive energy,” according to the buildings’ designers, Chetwoods Architects.

At the same time, the towers would be coated with a pollution-absorbing material to purify the air around it, and would be equipped with vertical gardens, solar panels, wind turbines, a thermal chimney to help better ventilate the lake underneath, and — I am not making this up — “insect hotels.” Oh, and the building’s energy will come from hydrogen cells running on waste, which will supposedly supply enough energy to also power some of the other buildings in the neighborhood.

Photo: Chetwoods Architects

While China is infamous for its pollution problems, it’s actually number one in the world in terms of money spent on green-energy investment, ahead of second-place US by a decent margin. The push for green energy is arguably more important in China than it is in much of the developed world, simply because China is a rapidly developing country with a population of 1.36 billion people. Investing in sustainability is kind of a necessity.

At the same time, planning a building is much different from executing the construction, and whether the final product is as green as the architects claim — they have a bit of an incentive to make it look rosier than it may actually be — is another matter entirely. And while China has had some great success at building green buildings and even green cities, their green features often go unused.

Regardless, the shift towards greener buildings is a positive one, and even if the Wuhan towers don’t end up following through on their supposed high measures of sustainability, the fact that the world’s tallest tower is a green tower will be a shift in the right direction in the global conversation about the future of our cities.

The building’s design still needs to be approved by the Wuhan’s mayor, but construction could start as soon as the end of 2014. If that happens, the towers are expected to be completed by 2018. They would likely only hold their position as the world’s tallest building for one year, however — in 2019, Saudi Arabia plans to complete the Kingdom Tower in Jeddah, which, at this stage at least, is set to stand a single foot higher than the Phoenix Towers.

9 things we can learn from Aussies

Photo: Felipe Neves

An American reminisces after living in Australia for a year.
1. How to “go green”

In America, going green means you make Instagram posts about recycling and follow “Wake up America” accounts on Twitter. In Australia, going green isn’t a social fad — it’s a way of life that’s completely normal. We didn’t have a clothes dryer in our apartment in Australia, there was only air-conditioning in one room, and everyone rode their bikes everywhere even though it took them longer to get there than driving would.

2. How to eat

I didn’t see one restaurant menu in Australia that wasn’t loaded with avocado, pumpkin, fresh fruit, and tons of other delicious things that weren’t fried. And the steak in Queensland is to die for. I know you can find these things in America, but they typically are in more expensive / exclusive restaurants (and aren’t anywhere in Indiana, where I’m from).

My favorite dish at the Coffee Club, a large breakfast chain in Australia, was toasted sourdough with feta and sliced avocado, drizzled in balsamic. Not quite IHOP. Maybe Australia has its own problems with obesity, but I’d rather overeat on these foods than at Taco Bell.

3. How to drink

When I first got to Australia and realized alcohol was expensive, and happy hour / drink specials were rare, I was disappointed. Then I realized Australians are so good at drinking (seriously, I don’t think hangovers exist in that country) that for their own safety, drinks are expensive at all times. There’s no socially unacceptable time to drink in Australia. Which is great, but the cheapest beer in pubs is typically $6-$8 (cases are rarely cheaper than $40 in a “bottle shop”), and if you find spirits for under $10 per drink, it’s a steal.

One of my favorite bars, Waxy’s Irish Pub, had a $3 Budweiser special on Sundays; however, if you didn’t get there before 10pm, they’d run out of beer after your first round. Weirdly enough, though, wine is cheap in Australia.

4. How to take vacation time

Or should I say, how to secure adequate time to take a vacation. Not two weeks, but four to six weeks paid vacation. Enough time to actually go somewhere.

One of my good friends in Australia is currently in the middle of his six weeks’ paid vacation to Europe that he goes on annually. I went to Wisconsin for five days last week, so 50% of my vacation time for the year is already used. Vacation time may seem unimportant in America, but it’s a valued part of Australian culture that Aussies take full advantage of.

5. How to attend “Uni”

College, but not the American way. For one, you don’t have to go. It’s just not that big of a deal. And if you do, it’s common to enroll after a gap year of traveling out of high school. Uni is also cheaper in Australia — my public relations degree would have cost me $22,000 (total) at Bond University, the school down the street from my apartment in Australia. I had a full ride to the University of Indianapolis, and still have more than $22,000 in student loans because of the cost of living, eating, buying books, breathing, etc, on top of the ridiculous interest on student loans and the whole “I had to defer my student loans after my unpaid internship that gained me nothing” issue.

Furthermore, neither of my managers at my Australian job had degrees — they were in their positions because they were the most experienced, and the best at those jobs.

6. How to travel domestically

I saw more of Australia in one year than I’ve seen of America in 23 years. Yes, there was more motivation knowing I had just 12 months to see all of Australia, but domestic flights are very affordable there. My round trip to Melbourne was $160, I found flights to Sydney for $80, and I also flew north to Cairns to see the Great Barrier Reef for less than $250.

My friends from Seattle just spent $600 each to get to Indiana to visit family, and my best friend’s flight to Cancun for a wedding was $200 cheaper than her flight to Vegas for the bachelorette party.

7. How to drive safely

Car accidents are so common where I’m from that I appreciated how strictly road rules were enforced in Australia. Cameras constantly enforced yellow / red light runners as well as speeders, and seatbelt rules were strictly followed. There was also no wiggle room on the cell phone laws — it’s not okay at any time in any situation to use your cell phone while driving a car in Australia. My Aussie friends would pull over into a parking lot if they needed to answer a phone call. I also had a friend who got a ticket for riding his bicycle without a helmet.

8. How to pay employees

Minimum wage is livable in Australia — about $16 an hour, depending on what state you’re living in. I can’t stress enough how amazing it is to have the ability to save money working an average job. Stress levels are lower, everyone is happier, people aren’t working two jobs to make ends meet. My Aussie friends commonly said, “You can be a receptionist in Australia and drive a BMW.”

In just eight months of working, I saved enough to visit Thailand and New Zealand, as well as purchase my flights home. This is also why they can afford to drink so much.

9. How to be laid back

My favorite Aussie slang I picked up is “no worries,” and I can’t think of a better way to describe the Australian attitude. Aussies are so laid back and relaxed you can’t help but let it rub off on you when you’re surrounded by such good vibes and happy feelings.

My Australian coworkers used to tell me, “You’re so American, you’re such a wanker” — I had no idea what this meant, but apparently a wanker is a complainer. My instant reaction was to complain about that label until I realized Americans, including myself, have the habit of starting conversations with “I’m so tired,” or “I don’t want to be at work,” or “It’s so hot out today,” or anything they can complain about. Spending a year in Australia completely erased this habit from my system, and I feel happier every day because of it.

Jakarta's king cobra restaurant

Photos: Author

Jakarta’s north is where the city’s colonial past rubs shoulders with its less-than-reputable present. Away from the ultra-modern mega-malls, leftover Dutch architecture pokes a decaying head from between the one-stop debauchery shops selling skin and drugs under the guise of hotels, nightclubs, and spas. If there was ever an appropriate place to eat a deadly snake, this would be it.

Along the streets in a too-casual-for-comfort manner, small cages of blue plywood and chicken wire are all that separate pedestrians from the hissing black cobras. Diners sit next to the cages as if the animals were tanked lobsters in a Maine seafood shack.

While the streets are littered with small satay stands, it’s the King Cobra Mangga Besar restaurant that’s cultivated a reputation as the best place to eat one of the reptiles. The family-run shop opened in 1965 and has since hatched four additional king cobra restaurants in the city, with a fifth on the way.

In more than a year of working as a journalist in Jakarta, a trip to the restaurant has always felt like a terrifying inevitability. My phobia of snakes is primal and buried in the most basic part of my brain. They chase me in my nightmares and, for reasons I can’t explain, this makes me need to be close to them.

I step into the tight 10-table establishment. The grill is working overtime. White smoke has completely filled the dining room, and it’s difficult for my eyes to scan the tiled floor for escaped hors d’oeuvres.

Maria, the long-time owner, obviously has a routine when it comes to curious white people walking into her restaurant holding cameras. She barks some words in Bahasa to her daughter Olvin, who shows me towards the back room where the snakes are kept.

A glass partition separates the caged animals from the main eatery. Olvin’s already stepped through the swinging door, and I can feel every cell in my body pulling me towards the exit. I take a deep breath and exhale in time with my step into the snake room.

Olvin, along with the only non-family employee, begins to pull out various serpents. Some are emerald with narrow, pointed heads; others are the splotched shades of army fatigues. The two smile madly as they spread reptile after reptile the distance of their arms and hold deadly heads closer to my lens than I’d prefer.

My hands are shaking like mad. Adrenaline is thumping in my ears, and I’m doing my best to pretend like this is just another day. Inches to my right I can hear the black cobras spitting at me on the other side of a single pane of glass. It slowly dawns on me that these two are risking their lives, and I have no intention of eating what they have on display. I make a mental note to buy one of the other snake-derived products they sell in the front of the house as a thank you for their risk.

The only snakes that don’t come out of their cages are the kings. According to Maria, they’re just too dangerous to take out for fun. She says the only people who regularly fork over the roughly $250 for them are Chinese businessmen who come to Jakarta on short stays for work.

Looking at the pent animals, I’m okay with letting them sit. One particularly worrisome fellow is deathly still, head tilted back with his eyes fixed on the one place a hand must go in if he’s to go out.

Maria says they’ve been doing business with the same snake catchers for years. Only when her daughter was first learning to handle the poisonous serpents did she fear for her family’s well-being. Bites are rare, but when they happen the skin is cut at the point of contact and as much blood as possible is drained from the area.

One small factoid about the restaurant pushes me to my emotional breaking point. Since 1965 only one king cobra’s ever escaped. It made it to the center of the eatery before staff grabbed hold and returned it to a cage. Taking a look at the wire enclosures, it’s not a sense of security that comes over me but the dreaded realization that they’re long overdue for another such incident. I immediately have a vision of myself covered in escaped serpents who know my position on the top of the food chain is at best conditional.

My reaction is Olympic-gold swift. I grab a snake-skin wallet as a thank you for amusing my phobias and toss a wad of cash I assume to be sufficient towards the register. Instinct trumps dignity as my eyes see the door and I bolt like a dine-and-dasher for the parking lot.

A normal friend vs. an Indian friend

Photo: Rohit Jain

1.

When a normal friend says she’ll be over at 10am, she’ll be over at 10am.

An Indian friend says she’ll be over at 10am and turns up closer to 11:30.

2.

A normal friend will ask you to split the restaurant bill with him.

An Indian friend will pay the whole bill, or ask you to pay the whole bill. The second option is more likely to happen.

3.

A normal friend will watch a movie with you.

An Indian friend will insist on watching four Bollywood movies in one stretch. To understand why, just check out this epic scene from an Indian movie:

4.

A normal friend will call you by your name.

An Indian friend will call you mama or chacha (both meaning “uncle”).

5.

A normal friend will decline to hang out if she’s busy at work.

An Indian friend will say bhaad mein jaaye kaam (“let the work go to hell”) and will hang out with you regardless of how much it’ll piss off her boss.

6.

A normal friend might not be a good dancer.

An Indian friend is the craziest dancer you’ll ever meet and will have some insane Bollywood dance moves to teach you. Skip to 0:43 in the video below if you don’t believe me:

7.

A normal friend will accompany you to go shopping.

Not only does an Indian friend go shopping with you, but he’s an expert bargainer and will bargain on your behalf.

8.

A normal friend will become provoked if you ask dumb questions about her country.

An Indian friend will just get friendlier if you ask dumb questions about India.

9.

A normal friend will trust in the skills they possess.

An Indian friend will have more trust in Gods, stars, and astrology than in his own skill set.

10.

A normal friend will go in for a haircut on any day of the week.

An Indian friend will refuse to visit the barber on certain days because of superstition.

11.

A normal friend will marry the boy she likes.

An Indian friend is more likely to marry the girl his parents like.

Travel is not a white boys' club

Photo: rafael-castillo

THE INTERVIEW SERIES I’ve got going on over at Everywhere All The Time might be a mouthful — “Dispatches: Conversations with Writers of Color on Race, Place & Adventure” — but what it lacks in brevity, it makes up for in rare, enlightening content. I’ve been chatting with travel writers of color about their experiences navigating the media industry as well as the globe, exploring topics that are rarely touched on in mainstream discourses.

Recently, I got to chat with educator, writer, and historian Abena Clarke of the blog Moving Black in an exchange that took place over email, over two weeks, across time zones, and in Accra, California, Ecuador, New York, Kenya, and London. All quirks aside, we managed to have a really straight-up discussion on travel writing’s ‘bloody’ relationship with people of color, and how we might be able to approach a future together. Read on and get schooled!

MsMovingBlack (aka Abena Clarke) is a Caribbean-based London-born teacher, writer, historian, and armchair activist. She currently lives in Martinique, but of all the places she’s visited, she’s most at home in the center of a dance floor.

* * *

BA: Tell us about yourself. How would you describe your work?

AC: I would describe my blog, Moving Black, as the place where I record my adventures and thoughts on travel, identity, stories past and present, and the interplay between them. I try to provide an alternative discourse on the places I visit, and describe my experiences as a black British woman in them.

For me, the most easily accessible travel writing seems to be by white people and for white people. I am not white. I have a bunch of white friends, but I also have a big black family and a bunch of black friends and when we travel, we experience the very same places differently. I try and reflect that in my writing. In addition, the places I choose to visit and the museums I choose to go to are not necessarily those which your average white person my age would select. I try to contribute information about those places that do exist and are of interest to people like me but which are difficult to find information about.

In South Africa, for example, I wanted to visit Ginsberg in the Eastern Cape province, because it’s the spiritual home of the Black Consciousness Movement and the physical place where Steve Biko grew up and did amazing work as part of the Black Community Programmes in spite of being ‘banned’ by the apartheid government. The Steve Biko Foundation has an amazing community center there with a Heritage Trail and a museum, library, bar, and restaurant (not to mention snazzy conference facilities), but when I was looking for information about the place, all I found was backpackers saying, “Spend one night if you must — there’s nothing to do here.”

When I went to Haiti, same thing. I was reading a lot about how dangerous it was and how I’d be crazy to go out at night. But as a black woman, this was not my experience. I dress simply and blend in a black crowd and was perfectly safe out alone at night in Jacmel and Cap Haitien for the most part.

Photo: MsMovingBlack

There are a lot of black people who don’t get to the historical sights when they visit the Caribbean, or get past the safaris of Africa for one reason or another. I’ve got nothing against beaches or animals, but I think the black adoption of traditionally white modes of travel is problematic. No holidaymaker should be engaging in Orientalism when they travel in 2014 or beyond. But ‘point and stare’ tourism is still the standard because ‘difference’ and ‘exotic’ remain unconnected with a full humanity. ‘They’ are not like ‘us.’ Rome is still marketed as the “birthplace of civilization.” Really?

I hope my blog contributes to black people, particularly those keen on independent travel, thinking carefully about their holiday destination choices and the role they play in those destinations in maintaining power relations. It’s not sexy, but I try and make it light-hearted in my writing!

Oh — and you asked me about myself. When I was the only black person in our group of 15 British kids sent to teach English in Thailand at 18, I prepared myself mentally. I was British too, but I was not white from a semi-rural nor a privileged background. All the same, I was still flabbergasted when in our second group meeting after we’d been in our respective schools a few months, a girl admitted that she was having difficulties settling in and with colleagues because “They all look the same!” Once it was said out loud, the group expressed their collective woes borne of differentiating between one Thai person and another. Seriously. This was at the beginning of the 21st century.

I grew up in a different world from those kids. A happy multicultural politically progressive area in ’90s London, whereas these guys were from small towns and villages where black people were spotted at bus stops and Portuguese people were dark-skinned and ‘foreign-looking’. And I realized, these were the people travel literature was written for: upper-middle-class white people on an adventure with more-than-colonial undertones. One of them even went on to study Southeast Asian studies. I fell in love with backpacking that year, but I fell out of love with mass-produced nonconformity, and learned quickly that travel and travel writing are not progressive unless you consciously make it so.

​How can travel media change to become less of a white boys’ club?

Short answer: “Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.” – Chinua Achebe

Long answer: Travel media can’t change unless the world changes. As long as travel media continues the tradition of denying people the opportunity to talk about their own hometowns, and instead pays foreigners to report back on someone else’s country, and no one sees anything wrong with that, it will continue to be a white boys’ club. Even if there are more people of color in that club, travel writing will remain essentially an Orientalist endeavor.

Stories about ‘them’ and ‘us’ and the essential insurmountable differences between humans and their collective groupings will abound. George W Bush’s cabinet had two people of color in important positions — Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell. In some quarters it was lauded as the most diverse cabinet in US history, if I remember correctly. But it was not a progressive cabinet in political terms because, to paraphrase Angela Davis, diversity which doesn’t produce change is meaningless and because it looks progressive, can get away with being reactionary, i.e. backward!

The problem with travel media, for me, is really a broader discourse. Who has the right to speak? Who has the power to be heard? Who sets the terms of the discussion? Who and what subjects are included? Who and what are excluded?

Travel writing has a troubled history. The tradition of travelers’ tales is deeply rooted in the period of imperial expansion in Europe. It is closely linked to colonialism and ‘scientific’ racism. Travel writing, like early anthropology, provided evidence of white superiority through its representation of the exotic as barbaric, or lascivious, or simply ‘other’. It played a key role in creating a popular imagination in which people are sufficiently characterized as so different, their lifestyles and cultural practices so alien, that they’re not fully human, and thus, with their humanity diminished bit by bit, story by story, you arrive at a world where brutal barbaric invasions are romanticized as bringing civilization! Cruel, inhumane exploitation is barely thought of as unfortunate because it also involved ‘modernity’ or ‘Christianization’. There is a lot of blood on the hands of travel writing. Then and now.

I don’t think I’ll make any friends but here’s my two cents: Travel media can’t change to become less of a white boys’ club unless it, by some unusually effective process of reflection, looks at itself and asks how it became one in the first place.

Photo: MsMovingBlack

White boys didn’t invent the movement of peoples or travel for pleasure. If necessity is the mother of invention, we know that travel has historically been very closely linked to trade. Where some people go to trade, other people follow to travel. The link between the US ban on travel to Cuba for nationals following the trade embargo is one example. The place of Timbuktu in popular imagination is another. Our conceptions of geography itself are wedded to our political realities. How else do you explain that ‘everybody’ has heard of the Caribbean islands — Jamaica, Barbados, the Bahamas — but few people would place Cuba, Haiti, or the Bermuda Triangle in that same geographical region? How many people have heard of Martinique or Guadeloupe, let alone can place them firmly in the same archipelago as St. Lucia or Trinidad if given a map?

How is it that lots of contemporary travel writing is still so keen to present a place of wonder, relaxation, or exploration for the traveler or tourist, and not as someone else’s home? Filled with all the stresses and joys of life for the people who live there? What is it about the way we travel that makes the realization that the ‘unique’ transportation we’re taking in an ‘exotic’ destination is somebody else’s oh-so-mundane ride to work, a bit of a buzzkill? Why are we so determined to talk about Jamaican beaches and landscapes, with reference to Jamaican crime, and not Jamaica and the IMF? Why is an authentic African adventure one which features seeing African wildlife and not one which features meeting African people, on their turf, as equals, or better yet, with them as the experts?

If I throw the question back at you, do you want travel media to become less of a white boys’ club, or all media? Travel is not a white boys’ club and never has been. We can’t talk about who gets to travel and whose lands are turned into ‘destinations’ — and whose aren’t — without talking about history and power. Well, I can’t!

This interview originally appeared at Everywhere All The Time and is republished here with permission.

In-sync Chinese dancers

SOMETIMES, I FORGET how different the art of dance is around the world. It is such a beautiful form of expression, and the China Disabled People’s Performing Art Troupe (CDPPAT) goes beyond just performance — all of the dancers featured here are hearing impaired, and CDPPAT supports a wide range of disabilities in their other endeavors. This dance, entitled Thousand Hand Bodhisattva (Guan Yin, 千手观音), is based on the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy. I think it’s amazing how skilled and in-sync the dancers are, truly making it look as though it is only one person expressing all of the movements.

23 of the clearest waters on Earth

Seventy-one percent of our planet is covered in water, from oceans to mountain lakes to jungle lagoons. Over time, the names and boundaries of these bodies of water have continuously changed to reflect political, geographical, and historical occurrences. No matter their current names or in whose territory they lie, hundreds of these bodies of water attract visitors year after year due to their crystal-clear nature and vibrant blue appearances — and as long as they’re well cared for, they’ll continue to do so for years on end.

Check out these 20 locations where you can find some of the clearest and bluest waters anywhere on Earth.




1

Bora Bora, French Polynesia

Home to a multitude of luxury resorts on stilts above the water, Bora Bora attracts tourists from all over the planet looking to get an up-close view of the island’s clear, turquoise waters. The fine white sand surrounding the island accounts heavily for the clarity and color.
Photo: Pierre Lesage

2

Dog Island, Panama

Dog Island is one of the San Blas Islands off the north coast of Panama.

Photo: Scott Sporleder

3

Five Flower Lake, China

Five Flower Lake is part of Jiuzhaigou Valley, one of China’s nature reserves and national parks. The clarity of the shallow lake allows visitors to see the many crisscrossing ancient tree trunks that have fallen into it. The lake often takes on many colors from the surrounding forest.
Photo: Peter

More like this: 27 brilliant images of white sand beaches worldwide




4

Ko Phi Phi, Thailand

The Phi Phi island chain consists of two large islands (Ko Phi Phi Don and Ko Phi Phi Leh) as well as several smaller ones. The waters are famous for their clarity as well as the limestone karsts that jut out from the sea. The filming of notorious backpacker movie The Beach took place on Ko Phi Phi Leh.
Photo: Mike Behnken

5

Cayos Cochinos, Honduras

One of the most low-key destinations on our list, the Cayos Cochinos are protected by the Honduran government and remain off limits to commercial fishing. The islets are a true example of the word “pristine”—and we all know how overused that is. They're also home to some of the best, and mostly still undiscovered, scuba diving in the world.
Photo: Scott Sporleder

6

Moraine Lake, Canada

Situated in Alberta’s Banff National Park, Moraine Lake is fed by glaciers. The glacial sediment deposited by the runoff gives the lake its blue-green color. Moraine has been used in background images for Windows 7, Bing, Blackberry, Palm, and Android products.
Photo: Karl Johnson

7

The Maldives

The Maldives, also known as the Republic of the Maldives, is an island chain in the Indian Ocean. It has the lowest elevation of any nation in the world. The waters surrounding the 26 atolls provide for some of the best snorkeling and scuba diving anywhere.
Photo: Nic Adler

8

Navagio Beach, Greece

Found off the coast of Zakynthos, one of the Ionian Islands, Navagio Beach (also known as Shipwreck Beach) attracts thousands of tourists annually. In addition to its limestone cliffs and clear blue water, it's famous as a BASE jumping spot.
Photo: imagea.org

9

Linapacan Island, Philippines

Located in the remote province of Palawan, Linapacan is surrounded by quiet beaches and super clear water.

Photo: Scott Sporleder

Intermission





40 most scenic beaches worldwide
by Matt Hershberger



20
California’s giant redwoods, the tallest living things on our planet
by Hal Amen



7
59 incredible photos of America’s 59 national parks
by Matt Hershberger












10

Jenny Lake, USA

Located just east of the Grand Tetons in western Wyoming, Jenny Lake's clear waters often create some picturesque reflections.

Photo: Jeff Clow

11

Lake Pukaki, New Zealand

Deriving its strong blue color from glacial flour, New Zealand’s Lake Pukaki is a glacier-fed alpine lake. It’s the largest of three near-parallel lakes, which run north to south in the Mackenzie Basin.
Photo: Florian Bugiel

12

Mo'orea, French Polynesia

Due to its picture-perfect blue waters and surrounding scenery (which is mostly green), Mo’orea is a popular honeymoon destination for Westerners looking to kick back and take in the sights. Arthur Frommer (you might have heard of him thanks to a certain travel guide) once declared Mo’orea the most beautiful island in the world.
Photo: vgm8383

13

Great Barrier Reef, Australia

Known as the world’s largest coral-reef system and the most popular diving location on the planet, the Great Barrier Reef is submerged in clear, blue water. Thanks to this clarity, the reef can be seen from space.

Photo: Scott Sporleder

14

Corfu, Greece

The waters off the coast of Corfu, the second largest of the Ionian Islands, offer amazing visibility and clarity. The island is visited by tourists from around the globe, but predominantly attracts them from Scandinavia, the United Kingdom, and Germany. The beach at Canal D’Amour in Sidari is one of Corfu’s most famous.
Photo: Trish Hartmann

15

Lake Tahoe, USA

After the Great Lakes, Lake Tahoe is the United States’ largest lake by volume (and the deepest after Oregon’s Crater Lake). While many parts of the lake may not appear to be incredibly clear due to its depth, size, and storm-water runoff, less-impacted spots on Lake Tahoe’s shores show the water’s true colors.
Photo: Steve Dunleavy

Intermission




18
14 legendary natural wonders of South America
by Hal Amen



2
17 vivid landscapes to inspire your California wanderlust
by Matt Hershberger




11 pristine photos of Whitehaven Beach, Australia
by Joe Batruny












16

Tulum, Mexico

While Tulum is home to the ruins of a pre-Columbian Maya city, it attracts tourists in droves for its white sand and clear water as well.

Photo: Camilo Gonzalez

17

Peyto Lake, Canada

Peyto Lake is found in Banff National Park. Images of the lake may look computer generated due to the vibrant colors of the water. The large amount of rock flour, deposited from the glacial runoff, give the lake its powder-blue color.
Photo: Dave Hensley

18

Panari Island, Japan

Panari, also called Aragusuku, and the other Okinawan islands make up the most remote part of Japan, located a few hundred miles east of Taiwan.

Photo: Ippei & Janine Naoi

19

Perhentian Islands, Malaysia

Two main islands, Perhentian Besar and Perhentian Kesil, make up the Perhentian Islands off the eastern coast of Malaysia. When paired with crystal-clear water, the white sand of the islands provides for an epic snorkeling experience. Jellyfish, turtles, reef sharks, and colorful reef fish can be found among other coral residents.
Photo: exilism

20

To Sua Ocean Trench, Samoa

Found in Lotofaga, a small village on Upolu, Samoa, the To Sua Ocean Trench is a large swimming area surrounded by lush greenery on all sides. The clear water, appearing as a vibrant blue, is 30 meters deep. To Sua translates to “big hole.”

Photo: Abhimanyu Sabnis

21

Whitehaven Beach, Australia

The sands of Whitehaven Beach, a 7km stretch of coast in Queensland’s Whitsunday Islands, are composed of 98% silica, which accounts for their fine texture and bright white color. In turn, the clear waters and shallow sands create an impressive swirling pattern when seen from above.
Photo: Jeremy Vandel

22

Crater Lake, USA

The main attraction of Oregon’s national park of the same name, Crater Lake has a dark, deep blue color—its water clarity is also remarkable. The lake sits in a caldera, which was created after the collapse of the Mount Mazama volcano over 7,000 years ago.

Photo: Raul Diaz

23

Wineglass Bay, Australia

Famous for its white sand beaches and sapphire waters, Wineglass Bay is a secluded area in Tasmania’s Freycinet National Park. Hiking, sailing, and fishing are popular in the area. When seen from a bird’s-eye view, you can appreciate just how blue the waters are—from the turquoise shallows to the dark blue depths.
Photo: Rob Taylor

Notes on an attempted sexual assault

Photo: Mitya Ku

When I was 23 and living in Saint Lucia, a man tried to drag me into the woods that border the public beach in Gros Islet. Nothing happened to me. I escaped with two skinned knees and a dirt burn on my lower back.

As an American woman, I grew up knowing the basics of assault response. Like all women and girls, I had spent time going over possible scenarios in my head. If I ever felt unsafe I would scream. If someone ever came up behind me I would straight-up donkey kick him in the groin. In my head, I had the total ability to go Lisbeth Salander on anyone and everyone who wished to do me harm.

But that was before someone actually did come up behind me with the wish to do me harm. And I can tell you that I did not execute a donkey kick and I did not scream. In fact, I did something so far from assertion that it still puzzles me today.

My mother once told me a story from her childhood, about when she watched her cat deliver a litter. As each kitten was born, my mother’s cat became weaker. She was dying from the strain. As my mother watched helplessly and listened to her cat whimper and wail, her nerves did something that she’s never understood. My mother laughed.

When a man came out of nowhere and grabbed me in Saint Lucia on an early Sunday evening, I laughed. Just faintly and only for a few moments, but I remember it. Laughing softly was my initial reaction.

I escaped because the friend I was walking with had a pocketknife. And fortunately for me, he wasn’t afraid to act in a very dangerous situation. I’m not going to go into details. But I will say that because of my friend, I didn’t have to endure what oceans of women have had to endure since the beginning of breath. Because of my friend, I haven’t been raped.

Yet. A part of me wants to end that sentence with “yet.” Just as someone might say: “I haven’t been in a car accident yet.” Or: “I haven’t had kids yet.” The same way that we express that the future is unpredictable. And both hurt and joy are bound to happen. But also because as women, we grow up aware that we are the targets for most violent acts. And by the time we reach a certain age, we have girlfriends, sisters, cousins who have been raped. The heartbreak of sexual assault has entered our lives in some way. Maybe we are that girlfriend, sister, or cousin.

As women in the Western world, and especially as women travelers, we are told by many to take a self-defense class. So we can “prepare ourselves for attack.”

My experience in Saint Lucia was certainly the most violent encounter I’ve had in my life, but it wasn’t the first time I felt like I didn’t have much of a choice. It wasn’t the first time I felt that saying yes might be easier than saying no. And I think we’d be hard pressed to find a sexually active woman who doesn’t have a similarly blurred experience in her past; when complying just seemed easier because she didn’t want to make a fuss or seem like a prude. She’d give in a little bit because she didn’t know how to say no, and how to say it politely, because ladies never do anything impolitely.

I spend a lot of time saying no now. Maybe because I’m a little older it makes it a little easier. Maybe because I’m a little ashamed of how paralyzed I was in Saint Lucia. Of how different I was from the woman I expected myself to be, how motionless. Now that I’ve encountered force, a situation where I had no option, I try to exercise my options a little more.

I say no to drinks now that I would have politely said yes to four years ago. I’ve learned to stop apologizing or making excuses. I’ve realized that I’m a woman of my own motivation, and the glimpse of a hemp necklace is enough to know =I don’t want to sleep with someone. Saying no is my right. It’s not my bitchiness.

As women in the Western world, and especially as women travelers, we are told by many to take a self-defense class. So we can “prepare ourselves for attack.” Others tell us not to take a self-defense class because doing so might give us a “false sense of security.” We should just avoid places instead. Either way, “attack” is something we think about. A lot. It’s something we’re told about. A lot. And the possibility of it makes us change our plans, as if attack would be inevitable if we were to go a certain way.

Because of my friend, I’m a survivor of a violent encounter. I’m not a victim of one. Many women, of all ages all over the globe, are not as lucky as me. The world knows this, yet we still question the victims who come to us, we still sexualize rape in the media, we still make rape into a joke in a stand-up comedy routine. Rape surrounds us. But we don’t do that much about it.

20 signs you're truly Scottish

Photo: Hamish Irvine

1. You know Irn-Bru is the ultimate hangover cure.

That fluorescent orange glow. The tangy, sickly sweet taste. There’s a reason Scotland is the only country in the world that sells more Irn-Bru than Coca-Cola, and it’s because we know about its magical headache removing properties. If only it would take away the cringe-y memories too.

2. You know what a ceilidh is and how to pronounce it.

And understand exactly what’s being asked of you when you’re summoned to do the Gay Gordons or Strip the Willow…mainly because of the endless years of torture and humiliation you faced in primary school learning those moves.

3. You expect free prescription drugs and university degrees.

You think it’s crazy how much people have to pay for them in other countries. It’s your right to free healthcare, so you can’t imagine living in a country where such a basic human right is denied. Nevertheless, you could spend hours moaning about the NHS.

4. You know how to pronounce Edinburgh.

It can be either Edin-burra or Edin-bra (or, if said quickly / intoxicated, Embra or Enbra). It is never Edinborrow or Edinbuurg.

5. You’re either an Edinburgh person or a Glasgow person.

This can range from a little lighthearted jesting and fun-poking at the opposing city, to a full-on ranting rage about the other’s obvious flaws.

6. You’re mentally prepared for rain at all times.

You know fine well that just because the sun is blazing this morning, it doesn’t rule out a thunderstorm in three hours’ time. However, you gave up on umbrellas a long time ago and now just grumpily succumb to the skies.

7. You know that as soon as the sun comes out men will take their tops off.

It may only be 19°C outside, but every summer as soon as the skies clear, men of all ages throughout the country will be stripping off their t-shirts in gardens, towns, and parks, baring hairy chests for all to see.

More like this: 14 signs you were born and raised in Glasgow


8. Your people are obsessed with the weather.

The weather is the ultimate conversation starter for all awkward situations. Any time you meet someone new, the weather will be discussed first — especially if you’re talking to a cab driver, a stranger at a bus station, or anyone working on a checkout.

9. You let tourists believe all the legends are true.

Sure, Greyfriars Bobby totally happened. What a heroic little dog. Haggis? Yup that’s a small creature running ’round the Highlands. Oh yeah, I’ve definitely seen the Loch Ness Monster.

10. You smile and nod when tourists tell you about their Scottish roots.

You understand they’re telling you out of pride, and you honestly do appreciate the sentiment, but you’ve heard it so many times now you’re not really paying attention anymore.

11. You suppress your annoyance when people judge your accent.

Whether it’s, “Sorry, I have no idea what you’re saying. Speak English please,” or, “Why don’t you sound Scottish?!” both are equally annoying.

12. You’ll support any football team that plays against the English.

This is done with just as much passion as if Scotland were actually playing. But you know really it’s just a fun, long-standing tradition and doesn’t mean you actually hate the English. I mean, we need something to be excited about — Scotland rarely goes far in international football events.

13. You know Scottish pounds are legal tender.

And feel rightfully disgusted whenever you’re in a shop in England and are subjected to having your money scrutinised by the cashier for five minutes before they finally accept it.

14. No one’s tap water can begin to compare.

Except Switzerland’s, but we’ll just pretend that’s not true and happily gulp ours down anyway.

15. Planned BBQs will rarely work out, but you still try.

These failed attempts often result in a makeshift BBQ in the kitchen, trying to drown your sorrows in *insert alcohol of choice here* while torrential rain floods the patio.

16. Men dressed in kilts don’t seem weird.

It’s the standard dress code for all formal events including prom, graduation balls, and weddings. It’s also totally fine to be a True Scotsman and forgo any underwear, usually resulting in much hilarity and some interesting up-the-kilt shots once everyone is drunk enough to happily flash.

17. You know how insulting terms like “scabby,” “scaffy,” “jakey,” and “minger” are.

All are words that get thrown around the playground on a daily basis to insult and demean your fellow students by essentially calling them ugly thieves. You also know that one of the greatest comebacks to any of these statements is “Yer Maw.”

18. Chips and cheese are a drunken ritual.

For some inexplicable reason, you’ll need vast quantities of grease the moment you step out of a nightclub. Luckily, there will be many a chippie waiting to cater to your drunken needs. If you can’t get chips and cheese, a kebab will probably do the job.

19. You add an S to the end of supermarkets.

For no logical reason, Asda is Asda’s and Tesco is Tesco’s.

20. You don’t want to talk about the Independence debate.

Like most people in the country you have an opinion, either for or against, but it’s got to the stage where you just want it all to be over so you never have to listen to another drunken screaming match in the pub ever again.