Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 460

Iceland: Alone in the Lava

I recently took a trip to Iceland – my first to that country. It was also my first solo traveling venture, as all my previous trips had me visiting friends. I was alone in a foreign country; and with that came all the liberation and all the fear of being totally on my own.

The entire trip had me filled with gratitude. Everyone who had supported me, financially or through simple encouragement; my travel-veteran friends who gave me tips about what to do and not do in Iceland. The family with the cozy apartment who had a room to let. The shop owners who answered my questions, the cafe workers who patiently waited while I counted out my money. These are the people who made Iceland for me.

Being a solo traveler, I was accustomed to being alone in the city, alone among people as I visited shops and museums. Alone in the crowd I was able to absorb the feel of the city. Reykjavik was friendly to loners. But then one day I journeyed out of the city and into the lava.

The map told me that I was in the middle of the lava fields of the Reykjanes peninsula. But really I was in the middle of an ancient ocean, under more sky than I had ever seen. The mountains in the distance, so far away, looked like another country.

Out here, my aloneness was nothing akin to loneliness. This barren plain of black rock was alive with every color. Moss and wild grass and scrubby little bushes all covered in berries. The thrill of seeing a wilderness like this enveloped me like the unceasing wind.

Gravel paths showed me that I was not the only one who came out here to take joy in this wild aloneness. Lava rocks ground to a powder crunched as I walked, louder than the wind. I wanted to walk forever, to follow the dark line made by bicycle tires in the gravel, and see where it took me.

I was filled with awe to be so alone. Filled with awe to be surrounded by so much life. Everyone who had walked these trails before me, from the first Viking boots to the bicycle tires of the man yesterday – they were all my companions.

Iceland, the land of contrasts. The land of fire and ice, to be sure, but also a land of modern cities and unspoiled nature. The restaurants and shops and historic buildings of Reykjavik can entertain, inspire, and not leave you lonely.

I would tell you to go to the lava fields of Iceland if you want to be alone. And in the lava fields you will find that you are not alone after all. With the history beneath your feet and the future in the sky and all around, you’re never alone.

About the Author: Grace Robinson is a writer of fantasy, and a fan of arctic places, world music, mythology, and linguistics. She is a world traveler and author hopeful. Grace currently lives in Virginia with two rabbits and a lot of books.

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Venice is Sinking

It is midnight in St. Mark’s Square in Venice and the entire piazza is under water. Special tidal conditions and a full moon have caused the water levels to rise a metre and give the impression that one of the world’s most beautiful cities is sinking. A knee-deep flash lagoon covers what Napoleon referred to as ‘the drawing room of Europe’. The still water reflects the small lights of the surrounding buildings and an eerie silence has replaced the normal cacophony of the day. We are the only people here. While the rest of Venice avoids the flood our group of backpackers and hostel buddies has traipsed through deluged streets and alleys with plastic bags on our feet to experience the spectacle.

At the entrance to the piazza the water is too high and so we stop to take off our shoes and roll up our pants. We know the water is not clean but our excitement overcomes any reservations. As we exultantly wade into the middle of the square we spot chairs and tables from a closed café and take them with us to the centre of this impromptu lake. We form a big circle and pass around bottles of cheap, crude wine and toast to the adventure, to our discovery that seems exclusive.

We are the typical eclectic mix of nationalities, backgrounds and personalities in a European hostel. There are two very likable Aussie guys, a ditzy illustrator from Cornwall, a travel agent from Vancouver, three English teachers from Ireland living in Berlin, two wild Polish girls, a Scottish long-term traveller, a quiet Chilean girl and a handful of Americans who are studying abroad. I work at the hostel and see all types of travellers passing through every day. We are easily drawn together by this spontaneous adventure, this unique shared experience. Young travelers all seem to have the special ability to focus on similarities rather than differences and quickly become friends because of that. It is our most endearing trait.

These open and easy friendships have, however, lost their sheen with me. Into my second year of backpacking I seem to have grown desensitized to the thrill of new friendships, bitterly aware of their inevitable end. Working in a hostel this is magnified and only on rare occasions do guests spend more than three days in Venice. It is indeed a difficult task to continually make friends but to never keep any.

The piazza normally swarms with tourists. They line up to the impressive Doge’s Palace and San Marco’s Basilica, take photographs, eat gelato in the cafes, feed the pigeons or try to make sense of their maps. Souvenir salesmen float amongst them offering their wares while locals dart in between intent on quickly passing through the chaos. Tonight as the moon raised high and the water with it, this day-time hive of activity is transformed into its own perfect contrast. The signature commotion of the day is replaced with a tranquil calm. As our group discusses the wonder of this unique phenomenon we grow merrier and our laughter echoes in the otherwise silent square.

While we lounge in the middle of the shimmering lake, some drift off on their own paths splashing and wading and joking in the water. It feels as if the rest of Venice is sleeping, as if this is our own little secret and our eyes glimmer like the water surrounding us, knowing that it is.

We eventually finish the wine and decide to leave. As we tramp out I look back and revel in this special night. By morning the water will be gone and the crowds will be back, like nothing ever happened. In the next few days all of the backpackers will set off in different directions never to meet again. Should I resent both for their temporary natures?

I realize that the fleetingness of both is inescapable. The uniqueness of the flooding is what made it so special and maybe that is how I should see the passing friendships. These special moments and brief companions are small aspects of what makes travel and exploration what it is. I realize that instead of wishing it were different, I should enjoy it for what it is. I should appreciate that it has happened at all. With that in mind I take one final look, turn and leave.

About the Author: Matt is a drifter under the guise of going home when he finally decides what he wants to do with the rest of his life. He happily ignores the topic and keeps on drifting.

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A Simple Safari In The Jaisalmer Desert – India

Rajasthan, Northern India. 2 hours away from the Pakistan border. Our location was Jailsalmer. I never imagined I would be in this territory in my life. I had made my way up from the southern parts of Kerala, through Goa, Mumbai, and Udaipur consisting of long train journeys, regularly awoken by the sound of ‘Chai’ from local sellers of the popular Indian tea. Reaching the desert, I felt like I was an explorer reaching unknown lands, coming across the end of the world.. Alexander the Great once travelled through India, to the Western world then in BC time it was a new adventure, to me in 2013, and this was also the case.

This was an experience I had longed for since coming to India, I wanted to ride a camel, trek to the harsh desert, to see the mountains and dunes of sand in my path. I wanted this challenge, having the perception that it was survival of the fittest. Four of us took a tour from Jaisalmer with the tour company called the Trotters. They were recommended from a friend of mine from England. The name of the company is copied from the famous British Sitcom TV show ‘Only Fools and Horses’. The two main stars were the South-East London Brothers, Del Boy and Rodney Trotter. It was a good name and certainly to the British like me, it got the attention. Our route began as we drove out via Jeep to the outskirts of the desert.

By the time we reached our spot, there were 8 of us in total, with camels ready and waiting. At that point, I had never been that close up to a camel. For me, they are lazy-looking animals, but more towering in size than I had initially expected. They were fairly co-operative, plodding along the sand, only stopping for a quick munch of any green plant they could find. I had packed alot of water with me, a bandana wrapped around most of my head, and a long sleeved loose shirt covering the upper part of my body. The sun was extreme, I had to take precaution, although I had been on the road nearly 7 months by then across Asia, I have had trouble with the sun in previous years. I was frightened of sunstroke but I had learnt from it. This was the survival part of this trip I liked. Although in hot circumstances, it was almost a challenge to overcome this. Hostile heat and basic conditions, this was no five star resorts. It was for the ones who wanted it, who didn’t mind sharing a cup of Chai, or eating Rice from a Pan heated up from manmade fire.

There was nothing else in site apart from layers and layers of sand. There were no towns, no shelter, and no lakes. We were in a land of pure isolation. It was a journey battling the bumps of the sandy path until we got to our spot to stay. The camels were left to frolic around us, it was wonderful to see their freedom as animals as not as a form of living transport. A jeep with a couple further tour guides joined us after we found our spot.

We checked out the Sandunes, climbing them and playing around in their smooth existence. When that moment arrived, it was unexpected to be as jaw dropping as it was. It was something out of a sci-fi movie, a golden ball of fire in full force visible to view its whole circumference to the naked eye, a purely magical moment that any photographer in the world would pay for. It almost looked like a painting of a picture, or a NASA satellites image zoomed close in for us all to see. It was really there, right upon our very eyes for us to fully embrace.

I slept on the roof of the Jeep that night, under the thousands and thousands of stars above us. It was an astronomers dream as the sky was clear, the universe in full vision. I finally slept when the night was dark, comforted by the air being cool.

A 6am wakeup was natural, being outdoors, the sun’s rising rays lighting up the desert. We ate some breakfast, drank some water and battled back before the sun hit its peak of midday. I felt fulfilled; it was my first real safari. There isn’t much more to say about it, it was just appreciating the natural features of the world. Appreciating life that is so far away from our modern day to day life, yet such a simple experience I never thought I’d manage to achieve.

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Budapest: The Tower on Top of the Hill

It was a hot day in July 2011. My third trip to Budapest but the first time I would make it off-the-beaten track. My now husband – then boyfriend – suggested we should visit a tower on top of a hill. He’s always known about my passion for climbing to the top of…anything possible to climb and my fascination with towers, especially if they have an interesting history.

Elisabeth Lookout (or Elisabeth Tower) is located on top of János Hill, at the highest point of Budapest, Hungary’s capital. The tower is built in neo-Romanesque style and is 23.5 m high. But since it’s already high on the hill, the views are just…majestic.

It is free to visit but you need to tackle the 101 steps which lead to the very top of it. And lovers, bring a love lock, as at the top you’ll find a place to put it, along with other love locks which made their way here.

Built in 1908-1910, the tower attracts visitors especially on lovely spring and autumn days. Summers can be scorching hot while getting there during winter can be a hassle. The easiest way to get to the tower is on the Cogwheel, followed by a short trip on the Children’s Railway and a hike in the woods. Alternatively, there is a chairlift which can take you close to the tower and the walk is shorter.

But I am not writing to give history lessons and directions. I was about to tell you why this tower inspired awe. It was a hot, stuffy day in July. By the middle of the hike it started to drizzle which made us huff and puff, moaning that we are not fit enough. We finally made it to where the chairlift stops and were contemplating another hike, to get to the tower itself, but this time we faced a much steeper incline. My bad knee was screaming with each step but I pushed forward, until I could see the white marble of the tower. I stop. I gazed. I was…in awe. I was mesmerized by its beauty and majestic feel.

We stopped to take some photos with the tower and I was utterly fascinated. I wanted to learn about it, read it about it – the history is presented at the chamber at the base of the tower but it’s in Hungarian. I struggled to understand without asking my boyfriend to translate everything. I was fascinated.

We started going up the stairs and taking photos at each of the levels where there are viewing platforms. I saw the surrounding areas, the vastness of the Hungarian land and I wouldn’t want to leave. First time I didn’t make it to the top (it was very windy and I was afraid to go alone). But I badly wanted to be back.

And I was back in April 2013. This time as husband and wife. And this time, I climbed to the very top and took in the even more impressive view. And relieved every single second of my previous visit. It was very crowded now, though as we happened to get to the tower on a sunny spring day.

Budapest doesn’t cease to amaze me. Whether it was the third visit or the sixth. And hopefully the seventh (next year) will bring some more interesting adventures for us.

About the Author: Traveling Cricket: Travel writer, passionate photographer, in love with London, Budapest and Athens.

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Nigeria, My Country: What it means to me

I would like to explain some of the above words in a clear and concise manner.

Gratitude; according to the Seventh Edition of the Oxford Learners Dictionary, it simply connotes with the feeling of being grateful and wanting to express your thanks. Inspire; it means giving somebody the desire, confidence or enthusiasm to do something well. Awe; as it connotes to the topic simply conveys the sense of wonder and amazement, it shows feelings of being impressed by something.

Nigeria as it connotes to the topic is a country on the coast of West Africa, the country was eventually claimed by the British, who consolidated the area into one colony in 1960, Abuja is the official capital. Having taken in consideration the literal meaning of the above words, I will now expand with series of logical proportions what makes the country awe inspiring and what it meant to me.

To begin with, Nigeria is a land of opportunity to explore new challenges and the freedom to make personal decisions along life’s adventurous journey, experiencing highs and even road bumps along the way, being Nigerian to me means having the opportunity to freely express myself and my opinions and to know that my country is a safe and friendly place to live. The country’s cultural heritage is woven from threads of history and diversity, legend and conquest, the country is known for her multi-ethnic etiquette, manners and protocols, the food which embellishes a rich blend of traditionally African carbohydrates such as yam and cassava as well as vegetable soup made from native green leaves are some of the food culture of this diversity country, though a multi-ethnic group but the styles of folk music are so related to the multitudes of ethnic groups which signifies that this diversity country is so peaked in unity in diversity, in traditional arts, Nigeria has distinguished herself over the centuries in the field of arts, their versatility in arts is so great, the country has in centuries being viewed in all the world as the principal trustee of durable fruits of black artistic genius, tourists visiting the country will gain insight to a glorious past as well as a promising future, set amid of the natural beauty of this diversity country. I did a tour of different countries and discovered that the country is highly admired when it comes to art, moreover, the country is nature preservers, without outwardly showing it, Nigerians are patriotic people when it comes to culture, the country’s cultural heritage has classified her as a place of acceptance of diversity and people’s heritage, a cultural country that allows people to live in relative harmony with inclusiveness.

Nevertheless, Nigeria means a home of democracy; ‘‘we attract hearts by the qualities we display, we retain them by the qualities we possess’’. The country is admired when it comes to democracy because she understood that democracy is an imperative for good governance, the nation has configured its politics to policy, the country is politically stable, which means that the diversity country is secure, predictable, reliable and hard to knock over, the majority are happy because they feel at stake and are not excluded from the mainstream of sustainable development. I so much admire the policy of this diversity country because it is accountable and transparent, the leaders profession (e.g. philosophy, literary criticism, sociology, law, political analysis, theoretical science, etc) solely involve production and dissemination of ideas, she is known for political stability, foreigners attention are always peaked in her democratic nature because her leadership implied a distinction when compared to other countries, the Nigeria as I know nurtures people of great calibre, leaders of notable cultural and artistic expertise whose knowledge grant them intellectual authority in public discourse.

Indeed, Nigeria is a country for travellers to explore the good of nature because the natural beauty of this diversity country is so inspiring.

About the Author: My names are Ikegwu Michael Chukwudi, I am a Nigerian and a secondary School graduate. I enjoy getting to know other peoples culture since I am culturally diverse. I also enjoy reading and writing. I am social, kind and easy going.

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New Hampshire: Revisiting Lake Winnipesaukee – Part 1

Lake Winnipesaukee (a Golden Pond)

Lake Winnipesaukee the largest of the lakes in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire seemed like a perfect place for a short vacation and a nice follow up to my article on a similar subject – eating around Lake Winnipesaukee.

I really wanted this whirlwind trip to be special as I was introducing someone new to the area. The first thing that had to happen was getting there. With a pit stop or two it takes about 4 hours to drive from Montreal. The one stop I always like to make is in Derby, Vermont just south of the border.

There lies an exceptional Mobile Mini Mart off Rt. 5 that prepares hoagies (foot long sandwiches) daily that my family has been eating for over 20 years. The store manager nods his greetings – he’s been there for 16 years. The sandwiches haven’t changed a bit. My usual choice is sliced Turkey with Provolone cheese, thinly sliced onions, a little mayo and shredded lettuce.

This is my equivalent of lunch autopilot despite other options like Tuna and a mean Roast Beef. The accompaniments are crucial in making the experience. You need to pick out the right bag of salty snack (in this case two bags; “Smartfood” white cheddar popcorn and flavor contest winning Lay’s cheesy garlic bread chips). Next comes your cold beverage from the giant wall of fridges. I usually grab a single Snapple Peach iced tea, but at 2 for $2 I snap up both Raspberry and “Lemon” by mistake. My lovely co-pilot opts for Green Mountain coffee. Finally for dessert, a bag of peanut butter filled M & M’s and a Take 5 candy bar (excellent despite having a dry pretzel center).

For a driving snack we take along Vermont made Maple Beef Jerky for only $2.99. On the road again we cross into New Hampshire, with a highlight of the drive south on Highway 93 – the ride through Franconia Notch State Park. You knew you were getting closer when you saw the rocky outline of the Old Man’s face proudly watching over from the top of the ridge, referring to the former ‘Old Man of the Mountain’ (portrayed on many State signs). The problem is trying to imagine where he once stood and point it out to first timers while trying not to drive off the one lane parkway. It’s hard to believe The Old Man fell down in our lifetime after being there for countless years (I guess that’s what fridge magnets are for). Exit 25 off the 93 comes up relatively quickly and is the scenic way to get into Center Harbor on Lake Winnipesaukee. It takes you via route 175, then onto 3 and 25B. The bonus is you get to ride through the pleasant town of Holderness. There are neat places to stretch your legs including the newly renovated Squam Lakes Inn’s Market Place which apart from selling baked goods, gifts and sundries has cans of silver and blue energy drinks (a.k.a. Red Bull).

A pit stop on the way to Lake Winnipesaukee

Squam Lake for those that don’t know is where they filmed “On Golden Pond” (the 1981 classic starring Henry Fonda). Film set or not, the area is pristine as lakeside towns go and meandering down the semi-rural roads is always picturesque. A glimpse of the big lake appears through the forest (no need to mention we’re getting close). Route 3 encompasses much of the lake and we get to the T-junction for Moutonbourough Neck road. It’s a gentle curving, tree and camp lined road passing several private condo developments that leads to a little piece of heaven. Deer and other forest dwelling creatures can be prevalent (thus abide by the speed limit for the benefit of both man and beast).

I’ve seen several “I brake for Moose” bumper stickers over the years (see one up close and you’ll know why). Before the bridge to the island at the end of the neck road, you come across a welcome sight (that is if you like to eat and drink). Jo-Jo’s Country Store has been a fixture and place of happy vacationers for as long as anyone can remember. I heard it was recently bought by a large supermarket chain, yet still has it’s local charm.

On this quick stop only Samuel Adams Limited Pumpkin Ale, and a bottle of Barefoot Merlot were purchased. Despite not being a big drinker myself there are some relaxation requisites. Upon arrival to my cousin’s condo we quickly unloaded the trunk, aired out the condo and started our decompression. Since we’d be driving out to dinner, I saved the drinking for BBQ night (see New Hampshire: Revisiting Lake Winnipesaukee Part 2), so I let the sunset serve as my serenity. Later that night we ventured out to Buckey’s Restaurant (240 Governor Wentworth Hwy).

It was 8pm so I wasn’t concerned when the dining room was sparsely filled (folks tend to eat early around the lake). Hearing the blackboard specials I noticed a Montreal Rib Steak on the menu – our server volunteered it was simply a Rib Steak with Montreal Steak Spice on top (how cliché). We decided to share the full rack of ribs, with 2 sides; onion rings and coleslaw for $21. The rib sauce was tangy and Texan in taste, although you needed the serrated blade to cut the meat off the hefty bones. There was plenty in that department, but I was not impressed with the “onion-less” onion rings (the onion centers had dried up). The coleslaw was shredded well and creamy yet not enough to balance the somewhat dry meat we ended up gnawing on. I probably should have splurged for the fried scallops or steak tips, but our server did say ribs were one of the top 3 specialties. After a long day on the road we were content to go back and stargaze the lake sky. Adding to the quintessential lakeside list was a Boston Red Sox game on the tube (versus the Yankees – bonus).

Sun beamed Southern facing view

Watching a few innings, I grabbed some rich New England Vanilla ice cream topped with some blueberries and raspberries ‘et viola’ a nice ending to the first night in the Lakes Region. The baseball game was a nail biter, but was too tired to worry. It was time to turn in for a much needed sleep. Lobster Rolls and the best breakfast spot around would be in my dreams (see New Hampshire: Revisiting Lake Winnipesaukee Part 2). I was out like a light before I could add “On Golden Pond” to my must watch DVD (ie. VHS rental) list.

Look for PART TWO next week!

Jeff Shoer: Having traveled the earth in search of a happy stomach. Jeff continues to follow a path to food loving destinations. He hopes to walk off the calories en-route to more great tastes.

 

 

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Dubrovnik: An Unofficial World Wonder

Dubrovnik: An Unofficial World Wonder

by Armand Diab

I’ve only been to Dubrovnik twice in my life: as a child, when I lived in Bosnia and visited it during a field trip with my 2nd grade class, and as an old adult, only 2 years ago. The beauty and history of the Old City fascinates me to this day. Not only is it a great – and very affordable – place to vacation during the summer, but it is also a historical landmark, one that even Napoleon conquered some few hundred years ago. And that’s just one of the ways it inspires awe in me.

Located on the Dalmatian coast in the Adriatic sea, Dubrovnik is Croatia’s most famous tourist attraction. Every year, hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world travel to it, exploring its endless wonders: its crystal clear ocean water, its fabulous beaches, and the prestigious Old City, which deserves a label as one of man-made Wonders of the World. Upon my last visit to Dubrovnik in the summer of 2011, I was impressed by how much it had changed from the way I remembered it as a child: it seemed to be an international city, with all sorts of languages spoken at every corner, and it appeared to be bigger, even though it probably wasn’t. The wide diversity of people I saw during my week of stay there was beyond belief, and it made my holiday that much more special and memorable. It felt as if I was travelling through the entire Europe, and not just one city in Croatia.

Because Dubrovnik attracts so many people of different nationalities, it will naturally have a wide variety of restaurants. If you want typical Croatian food, you will find it on every corner, and naturally so. Or perhaps you fancy yourself a pizza? Well, in Dubrovnik I’ve tasted some of the best pizzas in my life. They follow the recipe, ingredients and crust type of the original pizza from their neighbors across the Adriatic Sea: the Italians. With that kind of inspiration, you know you can’t go wrong, especially when the menu offers at least 30 different types of pizzas. Everyone will be able to find their pie of choice.

The Dubrovnik sea is a special kind of sea. It is surprisingly crystal clear, pure and on a cloudless sunny day – which in Dubrovnik is most of the time – it reflects the sky so perfectly that even the most gifted painter would be envious of its appearance. The water’s temperature is always pleasant and warm, and the sights and sounds it produces as the waves splash onto the shore are a perfect lullaby for the traveler looking to nap on the beach while tanning.

There are also plenty of cafes and bars, and often right on the water. I sat in a bar outside of Dubrovnik’s Old City, and as I drank my beer while watching the beautiful islands in the distance, I noticed that many of the patrons were swimming in the water, just 20 or 30 feet away from where I was sitting. Envious of the joy they were having, I put my beer down, took my shirt off, and joined them. Eventually I found out they were also from the United States (Atlanta). When we got out of the water, we had a beer together, and talked about the elusive beauty of this great destination. Why is it that more Americans don’t talk about Dubrovnik as one of the major cities to visit when travelling in Europe? We vowed we’d spread the good word as soon as we got back, because no place this unforgettable should go unnoticed by so many.

Dubrovnik was, is and always will be a place that inspires awe in me. It is a city that I could – if my schedule and finances would allow me – visit at least once a year, during its busy tourist season. June, July and August are excellent months to go there, for not only is the weather perfect, but there are also numerous summer festivals, events and other festivities to be a part of. Dubrovnik may not officially be a World Wonder, but for me it always will be just that, and much more.

About the Author: Armand Diab is a 35 year old former Corporate Video production freelancer who graduated from Columbia College Chicago in 2002 with a Bachelor’s Degree in Film & Video Production. He is currently teaching English in Shenzhen, China. He will be there until the end of June 2014.

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Japan: The Magic of Shirakawa Gō

Japan: The Magic of Shirakawa Gō

I once wrote a poem about the Shirakawa Gō (traditional) Village, that started like this; ‘In far away, almost forgotten land, among mountains and valleys, as if someone tried to hide it, from the world like a precious gem, there is a place, that tells us the story, of once upon a time – nostalgic, old Japan.’ Shirakawa Gō is a perfect place in which you lose your connection with the outside world; reunite with the nature, while breathing the fresh air of the mountains and walking among the small houses on both sides of you, built in a traditional way, giving you the opportunity to explore the once upon a time, Japan.

Shirakawa Gō is located in the northwestern part of Gifu Prefecture, Japan. It is known for its Gassho-zukuri houses, made of wooden beams combined to an A form roof that resembles two hands of a praying man. In case you are interested to stay in the village for the night, it is better to make the reservations in advance and chose to stay in a traditional house. I had the opportunity to visit the village during the early spring time, when most of the village’s area was still covered with snow, and the temperatures were below zero Celsius. If you visit the village during the winter time, you are about to experience a winter fairytale, seeing the traditional houses being covered with snow, sparkling-a truly unforgettable magic. The traditional houses contain proper heating and bathes, and the rooms contain futons (traditional Japanese bedding) instead of regular beds. Two meals are being served during the day; breakfast and dinner; the dishes include vegetables, fresh water fish, miso and other variety of traditional healthy Japanese food. Staying in a traditional house, you have the opportunity to meet other guests and hear their stories about what made them to visit the village while sharing your impressions.

During the day, if you are lucky enough, you can observe the ‘changing the roof’ process of the traditional house, which very well resembles the ‘knitting a quilt’ process. This work makes the village’s people join hands in one mission, and such tradition has been passed down from generation to generation. There are many souvenir stores that sell the village’s goods, mostly being located along the main road; it is a great opportunity to make sure that this trip will be remembered forever. Along the souvenir houses, there are several house-museums that tell us the stories of the village which can be visited with additional payment. During a break time, a warm meal together with a hot tea, especially handmade ‘Matcha tea’ (powder green tea) is very much recommended. If the weather is too cold for you, it is better to visit the public bath located within the village, and continue your trip with a warmer feeling.

The Shirakawa Gō traditional village is located next to the Shirakawa village itself, where people’s lifestyle is modern. While walking the streets of the modern village, I’ve been amazed of how interesting it is to keep the modern and the traditional life so close to each other, like a small time machine in the mountains. On the way from the traditional village to the modern one, there is an exquisite coffee place, with various sorts of coffee from all around the world; I had a great chance to chat with the owner who told me about the village’s stories.

From the Shirakawa Gō viewpoint, while overlooking at the entire village, you might think that someone accidentally spread the houses like brown beads, from a precious necklace on a white sacred veil. Please try to imagine that the person who did it is yourself, and you are the one that writes the magical story of the traditional village, of once upon a time – nostalgic, old Japan.

About the Author: Victoria Kupchin. Born in Moscow, USSR in 1982, at the age of 9 immigrated to Israel. B.A. in Comparative Literature and East Asian Studies, from Tel-Aviv University (graduated in 2005). M.A. in East Asian studies (Japanese) from Hebrew University.

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Albayrak: Red Flags all Over Turkey!

 

The Turkish Flag

Albayrak: The Red Flags all Over Turkey!

I will start by saying that I’ve never seen so much Red in my life, as I saw in Turkey in a few weeks, when I visited a couple of years ago. Whether on boats sailing past the Bosporus, on the façade of buildings, over balconies of private residences, or in cafes, gardens, small businesses, public squares, parks, or even into the sky if you cared to look looked overhead, ‘Red’ is all over.

Into the Skies of Istiklal

What is Red?

A creamy white crescent moon and a star facing each other, against a lush backdrop of red. This for you is Turkey’s national flag also called “Albayrak”( the red flag) or “Ayyıldız”(the moon-star). To be honest, I did not know this until I stepped out of the aircraft into Istanbul’s Ataturk Airport, and was accosted by its presence everywhere. Alighting from the Hawas airport shuttle bus at Taksim Square, I swear I could have counted close to 200 flags in the span of an hour. Certainly an impressive figure because back home in India, our flag mostly makes its appearance on Republic Day and Independence Day. And I’ve never seen our tri-colour hung down the entire length of a colossal building.

 

Father of Modern Turkey – Ataturk alongside the flag

 

Turkish friends told me that on National Days namely 29th October (Republic Day of Turkey), the country is drenched in pools of crimson. Even individuals and commercial establishments readily sport their country flag.

Turks who have never travelled out of their country are habituated to its ubiquity however those who have started to travel abroad return home to look at their public spaces in an increasingly new light.

It’s true that countries such as Thailand also match up in this respect. Bhutan comes close with its banners of the King and Queen all over the hilly landscapes. However the Turkish flag (Albayrak)hits home in a big way with tourists because of its primarily red hues with splashes of white. This flag is far from being forgettable!

 

Wet Streets of Kadikoy (Asian Part of Istanbul)

 

Walking through Istanbul’s historic pedestrian street, Istiklal Caddesi, I look up at the skies and make a half-hearted attempt at counting. Am amused group of Turks are more than happy to share their opinions, telling me that though it appears overly-nationalistic and militaristic, the flag is sacred to most Muslim Turks because of the crescent moon (hilal) embellished upon it. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the Father of Modern Turkey himself did not alter the flag much despite efforts to depart from the Ottoman regime.

Another guy I met in the Island of Assos (Behramkale) surprised me by saying that the flag is hoisted when a Turkish couple gets married. Also it could be used to cover the coffins of martyrs, soldiers, presidents, teachers, veterans, world and Olympic champion athletes, etc. His list was definitely longer that what I remember today. Meanwhile in the coastal city of Izmir, sellers walk around the Old City centre with meter long flags.

 

Flag Seller in Izmir

 

But Everyone is Not as Gung-Ho

I remember the first time I stepped into my friends’ apartment, I was sure it would be adorned by flags but it wasn’t. These guys were all young Turks who didn’t see the point of their flag being thrust into the public eye, as if to remind people lest they someday forget. Clearly every Turk did not feel the same allegiance though they were fiercely proud of their Turkish roots.

Ezra, a passionate young Turk had a radically different opinion exclaiming, ‘Turkish flag means being proud of being a Turk. There is a quotation “Ne mutlu Turkum Diyene!” means “How happy is the one who says “I am a Turk”. This sentence is the ending sentence of the oath that every kid living in this country have to say loud before starting their classes. Every day I had to shout this sentence till my age of 17. Such arrogance…

Why am I so against being proud about being Turk? Because Turk means oppression of other nations living in Turkey. They are not Turk, but Kurd, Laz, Cherkes Aserian, Armenian, Greek or any other ethnic culture which have been living on this geography for ages. And now, they have to call themselves Turk, they have to speak Turkish, they have to be Muslim, above all they are not welcome any more. Otherwise, they have to live with heavy discrimination. Calling someone Armenian is a bad word in Turkey. Can you believe that?  State puts flag shapes even on the mountains of Kurdish region. This is insane.’

In sharp contrast, another Turkish woman Sule mulls, ‘Our flag, my flag is holy for us. We never let a flag fall into place -ground. We represent it everywhere because it represents us,our honourable history and ancestors. If the subject is to talk about the flag, words fail here. Flag is our independence, our history and honour.’

 

Art Gallery in Kadikoy

 

I can conclude saying this much, and only this much:

Albayrak is one of the most aesthetic and deeply engaging flags I ‘ve seen this far. To me, it evokes memories of a sojourn where I lost count of the times chai (tea) was offered on the house at bus stops, tourism offices, fruit markets, even outside mosques and cafes.

Until then, Görüşürüz! (pronounced go-roo-shoo-rooz)

See you later! (in Turkish)

 

Headed towards Galata Bridge

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Christmas in the Dales

Life can get pretty hectic in the run up to Christmas, so why not leave the hustle and bustle behind and escape to the great outdoors. There is no better place to wrap up against the wintry weather and enjoy some fresh air in the miles and miles of rolling countryside in the Yorkshire Dales.

There are hundreds of walking routes throughout the villages and open countryside, ensuring you can have a proper break from the big smoke of the city. The most well known in the area is, of course the Three Peaks – a trek up three of the highest summits in the area.

Together Pen-y-ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough makes up a 24.5 mile route starting in Horton-in-Ribblesdale, but if you are looking for something a little less strenuous or something that all the family can join in with then the Ingleton Falls Waterfall Trail is a winter wonderland of a walk.

It is just over four miles and the colours at this time of year will be spectacular with a variety of rare plants, birds and trees to be spotted along the route. Following a map you will take in Hollybush Spout – a river running through the valley – before coming to five other waterfalls – the main one being Thornton Force which pours  14 metres over a limestone cliff, formed 330 million years ago.

After taking in Beezley Falls, Rival Falls and Baxengyhll Gorge – where there is a viewing bridge but not for the faint hearted you will pass Snow Falls before coming back into the picturesque Ingleton Village. If, however, you are missing a bit of retail therapy then visit one of the many festive markets being held across the Dales in the run up to Christmas.

In Skipton there is a Yuletide Festival and Christmas market from 8 to 15 December with over 150 stalls with gifts, local produce and traditional hot roasted chestnuts and mulled wine. But perhaps, the most well known event to get you into the festive spirit is the Grassington Dickensian Christmas Festival taking place over three Saturdays  – 30 November, 7 and 14 December.

Travel back in time for street entertainment, buskers, shoe-shine boys, chestnut sellers, Santa’s Grotto and an outdoor market. Make the most of your escape from reality with a stay in one of Ingrid Flute’s charming and cosy holiday cottages to complete that perfect weekend getaway.

About the Author:  Emma Dale: Currently a journalist for the Whitby gazetter, my passions are for all things Yorkshire. I feel privilaged to be living and working in one of the most beautiful areas in England. From it’s stunning rolling hills to its quaint seaside towns such as Whitby, Yorkshire has something for everyone.

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