We all know that travelling is mostly about who you meet. And the prime draw of visiting New York isn’t the tall buildings, theatres or pizza. It’s the 1,000 cultures that meet there, all building their kooky version of the American dream.
We meet in front of the Caravelle at 8.30am sharp, the earliest I’ve ever had call to be in Lam Son Square. All around us are departing tourists and waiting taxis, sticking to the frenzied itineraries of first-timers. We have one of our own coming up, but it’s a bit subtler than the well-worn path of the guidebooks. We’re going to be peeling back the layers of history.
It’s sunrise. The waves are riding high and the sky is cloudy — it’s about to rain. I got there early to see the fishing boats come in with their fresh catch. Like dots on the horizon, they bobbed on the tempestuous ocean making their way back after a hard night’s work.
“I’m on this trip because around this time last year my aunt died at Mt. Kailash on a pilgrimage,” Selva explains. “She went with a group of friends, when they reached Kailash she wasn’t feeling well so she told them to continue without her. They left to do the three-day Kailash Kora and she passed away before they returned. One of the women with her told me she looked so peaceful her sari wasn’t even ruffled.”
Given the increasing amount of attention it's received from tour groups, is Vietnam’s iconic pottery village an example of rich craft and cultural heritage or just another tourist cash cow? Marc Forster-Pert went to find out. Photos by Francis Roux
Just a 90-minute flight from Tokyo, the tropical climate and cuisine of the Okinawa archipelago makes it a unique destination for anyone heading to the Land of the Rising Sun. Words by Humphrey Morgan. Photos provided by the Okinawa Tourist Board
Think of a city with 2,000 years worth of history that has been burnt down once, bombed, rebuilt and remains the largest city in the EU. Imagine a place that mixes architectural grandesse and history with contemporary arts, great theatre, the best in English-language comedy and cutting edge music.
The sun has long since set, but for the food vendors on Lebuh Chulia, business is just beginning. Along the crowded sidewalk, local people queue up for steaming, fragrant bowls of wonton soup and heaps of fresh noodles, wok-seared in a dark sauce. Outside a shuttered shop, a vendor pours the water from coconuts into plastic bags filled with shredded fruit.
Ask any Singaporean, and he’ll bemoan the rising costs of living, the surge of mega-malls, the skyrocketing housing prices, the overcrowding, and even (especially) the heat. But mention one thing — food — and that grimace will morph into an earnest, forthcoming grin and a flurry of suggestions. No other city invests so much of its soul and identity into its cuisine, which, like the city itself, is a kaleidoscopic mish mash of cultures, traditions and flavours.
If Singapore was a man, he’d walk on water. What was once waves on the Singapore Straight just 10 years ago is now the shiny new face that Singapore likes to show to the world. A combination of government spending and foreign investment has sat world-class architecture, tourism spots and cultural centres on land reclaimed from the sea.
As we drove the 34km from Seminyak Beach to the town of Ubud, the boutique shops, restaurants and luxury resorts, morphed into villages, farmland, rivers and narrow winding roads. Then, as suddenly as they had disappeared, once again we were surrounded by the trappings of tourism. But despite some similarities, the two towns have unique souls.