Assessing hotels: flip flops, yoga mats and other thoughtful extras

When we're inspecting a hotel as part of our research for a new guidebook, we're often whisked around the property at a rapid pace by the sales, marketing, PR or media execs, or even the GM at hotels that care. We're given a tour of the entire place - guided to breakfast rooms, restaurants, cafés, bars, pools, fitness centers, spas, kids clubs, and often business meeting and function rooms (despite our protests that our audience isn't interested in these, nor are we, and we have no intention of writing about them), and we're shown half a dozen different rooms. Fortunately I research and write with my partner Terry so we take turns at role-playing. One will ask questions, show interest and make small talk, while the other scribbles notes furiously, snaps memory pics, and - while the first is carefully keeping the hotel staffer out of sight - scrutinizes how clean the bathroom really is, prods the mattress for firmness, closely notes how worn the carpets are, and so on. No matter how thorough the tour is, it can never compare to actually experiencing a hotel. It's only then that you find out how warm the welcome truly is, how friendly, efficient and professional the staff are, whether the food tastes any good, how comfortable the mattress really is, whether the room is quiet or noisy at night, etc. And only by staying at a hotel for a couple of days do you really appreciate the attention to detail and thoughtful little touches. I will risk making us sound like snobs to say that this is where five stars such as the Four Seasons really excel, and boutique hotels and budget digs often fall down. Take the Four Seasons Thailand resorts. While you can expect to find big fluffy towels, soft bathrobes and slippers, beautiful toiletries, and handmade soaps, and practical amenities like umbrellas, flashlights, hair-dryers, and shoulder bags for the pool, where they really surprise is in their unique extras matched to the resort. At Koh Samui, you'll find complimentary his and her flip flops, a yoga mat in the cupboard and an i-pod docking station. At the Golden Triangle Tented Camp there's a denim mahout's outfit for your elephant riding; complete your mahout training and you'll be given one to take home. At the end of your cooking course at Chiang Mai, you'll be presented with a gift of chopsticks, rattan place mats, a chef's apron, and certificate. It's these little touches that make a room comfortable, a stay seamless, and a hotel experience memorable. We'll never forget a stay at a simple family-owned budget hotel in Turkey where soon after setting down our backpacks in our room the owner brought us a big bowl of plump juicy strawberries, and he drove us to the bus station the next day. It may not have been the Four Seasons, but those thoughtful gestures were just as unforgettable.

Travel writing and the pace of research

This month-long research trip in Thailand for the new DK guidebook has been one of the busiest commissions we've ever undertaken. It's also been one of the most sublime. We've flown, driven, ferried, and trekked thousands of kilometers in southern and northern Thailand, in our quest to review some 280 hotels and restaurants. So please forgive the silence. There's been little time for blogging in between hotel inspections, spa treatments, breakfast, lunches and dinners, and activities that have ranged from cooking classes and elephant mahout training to ox cart rides and jungle treks. Then there are all the tedious things in between - checking in and out of hotels every day or two, picking up and dropping off hire cars, checking in at airports, hanging out in lounges and waiting at baggage carousels, and sitting in our car as we wait in line for the inevitably late car ferry - all of which consume an interminable amount of our precious time. The continual travel and constant activity has meant little time for relaxation. As I'm writing a new spa spread for the next edition of the guide, and both my partner Terry and I are working on spa-focused stories for travel magazines, our spa 'research' has comprised our only down time. Along with an hour here and there to test out our private infinity pools (such as this one at the Four Seasons Koh Samui). It's these moments of pampering in tranquil treatment rooms and gazing out across the tops of palm trees to serene sea vistas that have kept us sane. Naturally, we don't expect any sympathy.

Thailand and good manners

We've already lost count of the number of luxury hotels we've checked into in Thailand in the last 11 days, the signature spas treatments and massages we've enjoyed, and the sublime sunset vistas we've savored from spacious suites and private villas overlooking infinity pools, palm-covered islands and the sea. More on those potentially hedonistic experiences (if only we weren't working!) and the thoughts they're provoking about travel later. My husband Terry and I are here in Thailand to review hotels, spas and restaurants, and it's been hectic to say the least. What has struck us most so far (sorry for the silence, by the way) has been the genuine friendliness of the gentle Thai people. It never fails to put a smile on our faces. On our first day in Bangkok, Terry noticed a Thai woman struggling with a stroller with baby down the stairs of the Sky Train. He jumped over the railing and helped her the rest of the way down the two flights of stairs. When they made it to the bottom the lady let go of the stroller, clasped her hands in the traditional 'wai', and thanked him with a little bow and a smile. The gesture was performed with such elegance and beauty that it made us wonder what's happened to manners in other parts of the world. Terry said it made his day and I think he secretly spent the rest of the day looking for women with strollers to help out, like a boy scout on a mission!

Travelling: anticipation

So, do you want to come to Thailand? I'm travelling on Sunday for a month of work, writing hotel and restaurant reviews and a spas spread for DK, and stories for magazines. You're welcome to join me on my journey. I'm busy planning the trip now and as tedious as elements of organizing trips can be (I must have planned hundreds of these), it's still a little exciting. Trawling through the Thai tourism websites, hotel sites, online airline schedules, comparing reviews, considering trekking itineraries, and calculating road distances, are all working together to create a sense of anticipation. Already I'm imagining tucking into some spicy Thai food at a table within splashing distance of the sea, climbing endless steps to see a colossal reclining gold Buddha, learning to 'drive' and ride an enormous elephant, and feeling the sand squeak beneath my feet on a pristine white sand beach. Alain de Botton writes in The Art of Travel of the anticipation created from seeing a tourist brochure that: "... displayed a row of palm trees, many of them growing at an angle, on a sandy beach fringed by a turquoise sea, set against a backdrop of hills where I imagined there to be waterfalls and relief from the heat in the shade of sweet-smelling fruit trees." The longing provoked by the brochure is evidence of the power and influence of "simple images of happiness", he writes, "how a lengthy and ruinously expensive journey might be set into motion by nothing more than the sight of a photograph of a palm tree gently reclining in a tropical breeze." de Botton immediately resolved to travel to Barbados. It was there that he explored the anticipation of travel and the actual reality. I'm going to do the same in Thailand. So, do you want to join me?

Travelling: inspirations #3

So just what inspires you to travel? I must admit I was surprised by the results of my recent poll where I asked what motivated your travels. Almost half of you (46%) said 'your own trips and travel memories' inspired you to travel, while 23% said 'the very idea of travel' motivated you to move; 15% said travel photography books inspired you, while only 7% said your family and friends' travel tales motivated you to pack your bags. Surprisingly, nobody said movies about places, TV travel shows, travel literature, or guide books inspired you, yet 7% said travel blogs motivated them. I've been excited about two recent travel blog discoveries (thanks Anne!), including primitive culture, an ethnographer's take on Thailand, South Africa and other places, and placesihaveneverbeen, a beautiful design blog inspired by 'imaginary vacations to far off places'. Both have got me thinking about travel in different ways: how we can think about travel from an ethnographers perspective (or is that already how those addicted to travel think?); what travel inspires (rather than what inspires us to travel); and virtual travel. I'm going to sleep on it. Let's see where my dreams take me. Where do your dreams take you?

Maps: their inspirational power

I seem to be more inspired to travel, and to think about travel, by the travel blogs I'm reading than by anything else these days. Anne at prêtàvoyager is a lover of maps like myself. On a recent post called You are Here she writes about a festival of mapping and a blog that collects maps among other things: "...maps that make you want to travel to a time and place that was well designed." The power of words to inspire! It struck me that in my quest to explore what inspires us to travel, I'd completely forgotten about maps. And yet maps are inspirational, aren't they? They're so much more than just a travel tool. I was surprised at how many intriguing blogs there are out there by people beguiled by maps, such as The Map Room, maphead and strange maps. As Anne suggests, the very design of a map inspires us to draw pictures of places we're yet to visit in our heads and evokes images of places we've been to in our memories. I recently spent a couple of hours with a map of Amsterdam for a guide I was working on. I was putting dots on the map to indicate points of interest and as I was doing so I was seeing the city's lovely leafy squares, cobblestone streets and tranquil canals in my mind. When I finished the task I felt as if I'd been to Amsterdam and that time spent with the map made me want to go again. As a child, during the five years we travelled around Australia in a caravan, I spent hours with my Jacaranda Junior World Atlas plotting out our journeys by torchlight from my top bunk. Maps inspired me to travel and to become a travel writer, yet I'd forgotten about the inspirational power of maps. Do maps inspire you to move?

Aspirational travel: wanderlust and wish lists

What is it about wish lists? Don't you love them? And no more so than when they're travel wish lists. Inspired by Decorno's What's Next for Travel blog which asked "What's on your list? Where does everyone want to go?", Franki Durban at LifeInAVentiCup wrote on Wanderlust: "I found myself unable to complete a list. I simply have too many places I hope to experience, and I won't stop until I've seen them all. Seriously, if it's on the list, I'm going, and I don't intend to leave this marble until I've completed my journey." I'm with Franki. And I enjoyed creating my own: Yemen, Iran, Libya, the Ukraine, Guatemala, Zanzibar, Madagascar, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Nepal, Bhutan, Mongolia, Malta, Serbia, and Montenegro. I could go on. Why is that? Why do we enjoy list-making so much? Lonely Planet do well from their Blue List book and its companion website where you create your own 'bluelist' to recommend a travel experience. The glossy travel magazines publish lists all the time: top ten destinations, world's best beaches, top 100 hotels, etc. National Geographic Traveler has just released its 'Places of a Lifetime' list and guides to those cities - you can read our Dubai guide there soon! What we're really doing when we create our travel wish list is defining our dream destinations and travel aspirations. Our lists - and those of others - inspire us to move.

Buenos Aires: tango and experiential travel

I'm not sure if Sally Potter and her beautiful film The Tango Lesson were responsible or whether it's more indicative of a larger tendency in travel - to travel to learn - but the trend of foreigners travelling to Buenos Aires to take tango lessons is so extraordinary it constitutes a phenomenon. The dance has also enjoyed a revival among locals. Walk down any of San Telmo's streets in the early evening and glance through a door and you're guaranteed to see a traveller, young or old, in jeans and t-shirts, taking lessons from a dapper old gentleman in jacket and tie or a distinguished woman, her black hair pulled back into a ballerina's bun. There are tango schools all over the city and private lessons posted on notice boards at hostels and supermarkets. Hotels such as the wonderful Mansion Dandi Royal offer tango packages including lessons in their own tango salon. The most popular place to learn is in the splendid Confiteria Ideal, a faded old café with an atmospheric dance hall upstairs which operates classes day and night, followed by a milonga, or social dance, where you get to practice with the locals. You can read more about experiencing tango in our new book Buenos Aires Encounter, but what most fascinates me is the flourishing trend of experiential travel. Travellers want to educate their minds and stimulate their senses. Cooking courses in Tuscany. Arabic lessons in Damascus. Elephant trekking in Thailand. Wine-making in Napa. Travel choices increasingly seem to be as much about what to do as where to go. As the slogan of adventure and experiential tour operator iExplore says, people want to "come back different", while i-to-i, a site that offers volunteering experiences, teaching opportunities and community projects abroad, is all about "meaningful travel". I'm not so sure you need to do an organized activity or tour to fully experience a place. You can sign up for a course in something when you arrive. The important thing is to just go. Figure out what to do when you get there.

San Telmo #4: browsing bric-a-brac

I've probably reminisced enough about San Telmo. I've told you about the lively weekend Feria de San Telmo that takes over Plaza Dorrego and floods Defensa street with a sea of people, and the marvelous Mercado de San Telmo where you must go and eat. But I want to tell you two more things. Apart from the delicious fresh food and colourful eateries, the mercado is home to compelling stalls crammed with bric-a-brac and tango memorabilia and cluttered shops trading in antiques and collectibles, vintage clothes and accessories, and all sorts of other fascinating curios. A 1940s Argentine movie poster, an original Carlos Gardel record, or a cobalt blue seltzer bottle, perhaps? As engaging as the shopping is - and you can while away hours here - you mustn't forget to look up at the skylights and admire the wrought-iron detail. The wonderful building, dating back to 1897, was designed by Juan Antonio Buschiazzo, an Italian-born architect who also created the ornate Recoletta Cemetery. What is it about that combination of atmospheric shopping and old architecture that is so appealing when we we travel?

San Telmo #3: local experiences

As all good travellers know, there's nothing like a local fresh food market for picnic supplies, indigenous specialties, edible souvenirs (Dulce de Leche, anyone?), or simply a hearty meal. Wherever we travel, the local market is always one of our first stops; it's a window into the society, a microcosm of that city or country. The mercado de San Telmo is no exception and it's one of my favorite markets. Locals exchange gossip and laughter with the vendors as they select their purchases from the freshest of fruit, vegetables, cheeses, and meats, much better quality here than in the supermarket. Throughout the day porteños enjoy tasty Argentine favorites such as bife de lomo (tenderloin steak) or chinchulines (intestines!) from the colorful stalls inside or the simple parrillas (meat grill eateries) outside, while late at night they share beers and empanadas al fresco at the pavement tables with their friends. Experiences don't come more local than this.

San Telmo #2: bohemian Buenos Aires

San Telmo is a gritty suburb of skinny cobblestone streets with a mishmash of colonial and belle epoque architecture. It often gets a bad wrap, accused of being 'touristy'. But San Telmo is actually one of Buenos Aires' most bohemian barrios, with a working class population, uni students sinking cheap beers each night in its myriad bars, and emerging young artists and designers hanging their stuff in the cooperative fashion and art spaces. Weekends are when the 'tourists' literally flood San Telmo's streets for the lively street market, coming from all over Buenos Aires and beyond for the antiques, bric-a-brac and hippy handicrafts. Orchestras and bands perform on the pavements. Merchants sell hot nuts, corn on the cob and empanadas. The tango is danced on the street and after the markets are packed away locals fill the square of Plaza Dorrego for a milonga, or social dance. While we like the barrio of a weeknight when the streets can be eerily empty and quiet, and most people wandering them are locals, weekends are when we like San Telmo best, when the barrio really buzzes, and everybody enjoys being a tourist. Even if it's just for a day.

San Telmo #1: bliss in Buenos Aires

Remembering my days of journal writing at cafés and bars such as El Hipopotamo started a string of reveries about the bewitching Buenos Aires barrio of San Telmo. We rented an apartment in Buenos Aires for a few months earlier this year, using it as a base to research the city for a book. San Telmo was our home for the first two months. We lived like locals, getting our groceries at the little almacen, or general store, downstairs. We trod the same streets every day on our way back and forth to the Microcentro, Retiro, Monserrat, Congreso and other areas we needed to explore for our book. Every night we frequented our neighbourhood restaurants, cafés and bars, eating late like Porteños, as Buenos Aires' residents are called. And when we had to stay in to write we'd buy a bottle of Malbec downstairs and piping hot empanadas from the nearby empanaderia, watching football on television with the locals while we waited for our order. Faces became familiar and hanging out in the 'hood was something to look forward to. Why is it that we fly half way around the world to try and live as we would at 'home'? And why is it that living as much like a local as we can is so much more enjoyable than experiencing the place as a tourist?

Travelling: journals

Are you a journal writer? Do you keep a journal when you travel or does your blog suffice? When I was younger, before I became a professional travel writer, I used to keep journals whenever I travelled. I'd write most days, usually with a drink in hand, from my hotel balcony, an al fresco café or the window table of an atmospheric bar somewhere. Like this one at El Hipopotamo in San Telmo, Buenos Aires. I'd document my journeys and reflect upon my experiences and the people I had met. And I'd muse about the nature of travel more generally. I'd paste in labels, tickets, postcards, and other paraphernalia. Don't we all? But now, I find it impossible. I make random notes for a book my partner and I are planning to write about our experience on the road as we travel the globe, living out of our suitcases for 21 months. But mostly I'm too busy keeping the practical notebooks on cities and countries that are the basis of our research for the guidebooks and stories we write. They're crammed with business cards, notes from hotel inspections, reviews of restaurants, cafés, bars, clubs, sights, museums, galleries and so on, along with scrawled bus times, internet café details, driving directions, opening hours and prices, occasional jottings from interviews, and descriptions of landscapes and citiescapes and the people who inhabit them. I'd like to be able to return to the days of leisurely journal writing. In the meantime I'll admire other people's imaginative efforts, such as those of the 1000 Journals which are currently travelling the globe; the delightful treatsandtreasures.com, a blog by a journal keeper (thank you, Prêt à Voyager); and the exquisite journals of Dan Eldon, a travel enthusiast and photojournalist who died a tragic death in Somalia at 22. His beautiful but short life is documented on a website and in a book 'The Journey is the Destination' by his mother and sister. Do let me know if there are any other great travel journal blogs or books out there.

Travelling: inspirational travel blogs

For those of you inspired to travel by well-crafted words and alluring images, there are some truly inspirational travel blogs on the web worth checking out: The Lost Girls is a sassy blog by three New York gals who gave up their desirable jobs to see the world (read 20 Reasons We Took Off and you'll soon be writing a resignation letter! Unfortunately two of the girls recently stopped traveling but one is still on the road. And besides, there's still lots of great back-reading for you to do!); on Girl Solo in Arabia Carolyn McIntyre ruminates on the fascinating destinations she visits as she traces the footsteps of the great Arab traveller Ibn Battuta; part 'what's on' guide to Baltimore and part musings on travel and design, Prêt à Voyager will have you tossing a coin, heads=Baltimore or tails=the world; the fabulous Franki Durbin posts on style, design and travel on Life in a Venti Cup (her motto says it all: "Life is too short to think small. So live large. Live with style. Live with adventure. Live venti." Franki recently interviewed me on her blog.); Beijing Notebook collects the everyday observations of a German-born expat artist as she adjusts to life in the smoggy city (expect anything from a rundown on the all-knowing Beijing drivers to insider suggestions on how to spend your time); and the same blogger has a wonderful blog called Palazzo Pizzo about the charming Calabrian town of Pizzo where she and her Italian husband have bought a grand house they're renovating; you'll find everything from musings on Mediterranean ceramic titles to things to do in Pizzo - eating icecream and swordfish (not together) tops the list! Are there any great travel blogs out there that I've missed? And who can guess where I took this photo?

Travelling: inspirational reads

Nothing inspires me to travel more than a wonderful work of travel literature. Don't you love sitting in the sun, ideally by the sea somewhere, and getting lost in a great piece of travel lit? Then putting the book down for a bit and dreaming about your destination? To make our lives easier, Condé Nast Traveler has compiled a list of 86 greatest travel books of all time. Check it and choose away. Is there something they've missed? And don't forget to let me know what inspires you to travel by doing my latest travel poll.

Travelling: inspirations #2

So what really inspires you to travel? For me, it's any number of things. Take this picture. It's a favorite of mine. To me, it says 'paradise'. As clichéd as it may be - tranquil fishing cove, creamy sand beach, crystal clear aquamarine sea, and tropical palm trees - it makes me yearn to return to Thailand.

Just what inspires you to travel is something I think about every day, every time my fingers hit the keys and I start to type, whether it's a new guidebook or magazine article or one of my little blogs. When I write, I not only want to share information, insider secrets and hidden gems so that you have the best time you're ever going to have. I also want to be the one to inspire you to buy that plane ticket and pack your bags. So what really inspires you to travel? I've added a new poll on the topic, so do let me know.

Travelling: inspirations #1

Octopus hanging out to dry. There aren't many images that scream summer more than this for me. While I'm most reminded of Greece, I took my picture in southern Thailand late one steamy midsummer afternoon before it rained. I was admiring some summer images taken in my favorite Moroccan seaside town when I stumbled across a blog I've now become smitten with, an especially inspiring journal about a young woman's journey as she builds a magical guesthouse in Marrakesh that is as much about 'place' as it is about 'travel'. The author is Maryam who seems lovely but her blog is irresistible. She's a kindred spirit who loves Essaouira as much as I do and I adore her enchanting writing about everyday moments and her poetry about places. Read her 'rickshaw reveries' in Dhaka:

Give me the open air!
Give me the wind in my hair!
Give me the color, give me the kitsch,
give me the one-of-a-kind!

But what I most love are her musings about her dying summer holiday in Essaouira.

Our Summer in Essaouira. It came and then it was a-snap-of-the-fingers over.
Did we spend it as we should have? Did we rest enough? Did we play enough?
The picnics - should there have been more?
Did we skip enough stones?
Did we collect enough shells?
Did we jump enough waves?

Don't we ask ourselves if we did enough at the end of every summer vacation? Did we dry enough octopus? Does she inspire you to go to Dhaka or Essaouira? Don't you just want to pack your bags right now?

Summer holidays: Beijing

Beijing. My picture of the Pekingese pup perched on a shelf (as if for sale) outside a hole in the wall store in a backstreet of a Beijing hutong reminds me of our last summer there. A monsoon of memories, provoked by potent images, comes to mind - don't you love the way our memories sort, collate and retrieve images at will? Albeit somewhat imperfectly, but I'm thankful all the same. The first image is that of two little girls and their mother whom we met in the Forbidden City. I'd been looking forward to seeing the City but the weather was awful (sweltering, steamy, smoggy) and the air quality dreadful (it was difficult to breathe) so my memories are as hazy as the City was on that day. My strongest memory, however, is of this charming affable (even playful) mother and her adorable children who chatted to us for a short time. The little girls wore these kitsch souvenir headdresses that I became smitten with (yes, I ended up buying one) and after speaking to them for just a little while, I didn't want to leave. They were on their summer holidays and they were generous, even lazy, with their time, casual and carefree, and in no hurry to go anywhere. That's something about summer that I love. That easygoing temperament that overcomes us with the warm weather come July and August. Where does our patience go the rest of the year? Regardless, thank god it returns. And there was something about them that I envied. They were having fun. It was their summer holiday after all. I think I've forgotten what it's like to have a holiday... and a summer one at that.

Travelling: potent images

What is it about those memorable travel moments, like mine with the Moroccan cat, that are so enduring? Is it because it's a moment that could never have been anticipated? No amount of information in the guidebook, on travelocity or in the glossy travel magazines could have prepared me for that unexpected stop at a coffee shop on a cold day in a remote Moroccan town. And yet these chance encounters and those elements of surprise are exactly what we hope for and expect from the experience of travel. We covet serendipitous moments, intoxicating experiences and potent images that we can take home and cherish and unconsciously compress into a compelling narrative. We want travel stories we can tell. Don't we? Did I ever tell you about the time we came across a cute Pekingese on a walk through Beijing? Now, there should have been nothing unexpected about that.

Morocco: the cute cats you meet on the road

I've said before I'm only going to show you a picture and I've invariably ended up sharing the story behind the image. This time I promise I'm only going to show you this snap I took on our last road trip in Morocco. I won't bore you with the story behind this magical meeting unless you want to know. I want you to enjoy the moment. You must agree this cat is cute. I love this wise world weary guy, don't you? But naturally I'm fond of the story behind the moment.

Essaouira: backstreet barbershop

I've said enough about enchanting Essaouira. I wonder, have I really? For now, I just want to show you this picture of a backstreet barbershop in the medina. I'm not sure what appeals to me most, the old-fashioned charm of the interior - take a look at those curtains! - the groovy Arabic type on the glass, the peeling blue paint on the window rim, the intensity of the barber cutting hair inside, or the bouffant on the handsome bloke in the black and white picture. Do you think there's ever been a man who has sat down in that chair and pointed to that picture and said "I'll have one of those"?

Essaouira, the beautifully designed

Now that I've started, I can't stop dreaming about the medina of old Mogador now known as Essaouira, 'the beautifully designed'. It's one of those enchanting towns where everything about it is bewitching. Close your eyes. Now, imagine a whitewashed walled town trimmed with sky blue. Its stone buildings are entered through arches that lead to tranquil courtyards with trickling fountains, balconies above, and stairs that take you to a secret terrace from where you can gaze at the eternally blue sky. Picture a bustling main pedestrian 'street' with stalls selling aromatic herbs and spices alongside lingerie stores displaying mannequins clad in bras and headscarves. In the back streets are labyrinthine narrow alleys and charming squares lined with Aladdin cave-like shops strewn with colorful striped kilims, Oriental lamps, prettily painted tables, silver Moroccan tea pots, delicate coloured glasses, and beautiful trays and boxes handcrafted from Essaouira's famous polished thuya wood. On one side of the town waves crash against its walls and you can walk along the ramparts to see the sea and Mogador island. On the other side of the town's terracotta walls are the shadows of swaying palm trees and art galleries selling the vibrant naive art of Essaouira's many talented artists. There's a busy little harbour of blue boats, fishermen repairing their nets, scrawny cats scrutinizing their catch of the day, and stalls serving up fried sardines. Nearby is Essaouira's beautiful creamy sand beach, windsurfers taking advantage of the wild trade winds, kids playing soccer on the sand, and camels offering up their humps for rides. Ah, Essaouira.

Travelling: scents and sentimentality

Thinking about our Moroccan road trip, I'm reminded of Essaouira. Ah, Essaouira. One of my favourite places to be in this world. Enchanting blue and white walled town on the sea it may be, but it's the smells of the place that most remind me of Essaouira. Obviously the scent of the sea (and the sting of the wind on my cheeks, and the taste of salt on my tongue). But mostly the smell of fish. Fresh fish untangled from nets on the decks of the blue and white boats. Fried fish cooked at the makeshift wooden kitchen-stalls by the harbour. The putrid smell of raw sewage in the ramshackle old Jewish quarter (picture blue and whitewashed buildings once again). The aromas of fresh herbs and heady spices at the bustling souq in town. Ah, the scent of fresh mint is the scent I remember most. You know how it is when you squeeze a bunch between your hands? When you sniff the damp scent on your hands afterwards? Ah, for me, that's the smell I most associate with Essaouira. The scent that most drives my nostalgia. Ah, Essaouira.

Morocco: the people you meet, part 4

I've shared with you my love of the road trip and the people you meet along the way. Nowhere is a road trip more satisfying than in Morocco. Syria comes a close second and Western Australia follows not far behind. But our road trips in Morocco have brought us the most pleasure. Like the time we drove from Marrakesh to Essaouira. We must have stopped a dozen times. The first was to snap some pics of goats standing in an Argan tree eating its leaves. (Have you ever tasted the nutty Argan oil? Dip some bread in it - it's delicious.) Our second stop is still the most vivid of the trip for me. We pulled over to admire the artful loading of blue and yellow sacks of golden hay on the back of a couple of unhappy beasts of burden, a rather handsome long-lashed camel and his less attractive donkey friend. Their young master seemed to take much amusement from their groans. And even more amusement from our interest. That's what I love about travel, that the pleasure of people meeting on the road is often two way.

Travelling: the road trip, part 1

What I love about the road trip is that wonderful sense of freedom you get from being in control of your own journey. Unlike travel by buses, trains, boats, and planes where you're at the mercy of misguided timetables, manic drivers and antiquated machinery, when you're at the wheel of your own vehicle you can choose to be as hurried or as lazy as you desire. If you need to get from A to B quickly you can put your foot down. If you want to take it slowly and explore the back roads you can be as spontaneous and as adventurous as you like. Most of all, I love being able to give a little wave to locals we pass - whether it's a shepherd on a donkey or farmers working their fields. And if they generously return the gesture, I like that we can turn the car around and go back to say hello. Road signs, murals and graffiti are also worth slowing down for - like my Marrakesh Mona Lisa and this enchanting palm tree in the palm of a hand in Morocco - they say so much about a place, don't you think?

Travelling: the journey, part 2

I asked you what happened to 'the journey'? The destination seemed to me to now dominate our travels. My friend Mike Ross emailed me: "My impression is that the origins of a 'sense of adventure' come from a historic disatisfaction with our present surroundings: the adventurers of old weren't looking for anywhere in particular to go to, rather they just wanted to get the fuck out of whatever hole they were currently living in. To this end, it should be the journey that is most important, not necessarily the destination. Indeed, while we clamber to get out of our offices for even the shortest vacation, it's not the adventure of travel that excites us, simply the prospect of being somewhere far away from where we are... sure there are still a few of us itching to sample a 2-day train ride down India's east coast, riding on top of a 1950s school bus as it winds through the Andes or taking a hot-air balloon across the Saudi Arabian empty quarter, but for the majority - who can't afford Business Class - they'd rather not travel at all; they'd like to be there already. Therein lies the inherent dilemma of modern travel; should we even be calling it 'travelling' or should it be called 'being somewhere else'?" And there's an idea for the next poll.

Travelling: the journey, part 1

So what happened to 'the journey' then? We used to get as excited about how we travelled - whether it was a flight, road trip or train ride - as we did about the destination. In my recent poll, I asked you whether that had changed, and - carbon footprints aside - if you still enjoyed the journey itself: 57% of you said you love train rides, 42% preferred ferry/boat journeys, 36% road trips, a surprising 26% still liked flying, 21% just want to get there, and only 10% of you enjoy bus rides. Me, I prefer road trips. And I don't even drive. I love to plan the journey, plot our path out on a map, find fascinating side-trips and diversions, calculate the mileage, and navigate our route. Somewhat guiltily, I admit I also enjoy gazing out the window, snapping pics in the rear vision mirror, and getting lost in my surroundings, reflections and reveries. Until I need to figure out how far it is to the next gas station. How about you?

Travelling: peoplewatching #4

My memories of travel are invariably related to people, whether it's the people we meet on the road or people we watch as we sit on a main square some place. I often wonder why that is. One of my most vivid memories of our drive to the Great Wall of China is that of the bored attendants kicking back at a gas station on the way. How is it that people and their everyday moments fascinate me as much as one of the world's greatest monuments?

Travelling: peoplewatching #3

Sometimes when you're travelling it's just as compelling to watch people who are bored as it is to watch people who are engaged. Why do you think that is?

Travelling: peoplewatching #2

Each weekend the lively Feria de Mataderos, Market of Slaughter- houses, is held in Buenos Aires' outer working class suburb of Mataderos. It's a vibrant celebration of meat, gaucho culture and rural life, with barbecues, food and craft stalls, folk music and dancing, and the highlight of the day, the sortija. Skillful horsemen in traditional gaucho dress gallop down the street at top-speed. Standing in their saddles, they hold a tiny spear which they aim at a small ring dangling from a ribbon. The winners are those who succeed in spearing the ring and when they do the crowd erupts in cheers. The competition is exhilarating but just as exciting as seeing this spectacle is watching the people watch the event. Their faces reflect the intensity, focus, fear, anticipation, disappointment, and joy of the gauchos. It's about much more than enjoying a sport or tradition, it's about appreciating raw emotion and human spirit.

Travelling: peoplewatching #1

Outside one of Bangkok's big malls, a local pop star appeared and prepared to perform. The crowd of kids who'd been waiting patiently in front of the stage went wild. Mobile phones and cameras were raised in the air to snap pics of the pretty pop princess. From the pedestrian bridge above, however, we were much more interested in watching the kids watching her than we were in heading down there to see who she was and how it was that she inspired such admiration. We got just as much a kick out of watching the kids' excited faces as they did from seeing their idol. Their energy was palpable. Infectious. Peoplewatching is part of travelling. We all do it. I most enjoy it with a drink in hand at a cafe on a central square somewhere, but watching people watching other people is something else.

Travelling: connections #1

As much as I love the incongruities we come across on our movements around the globe, I love making connections between cultures and finding similarities in everyday encounters. It's all about joining the dots. The Beijing Turkish kebap boys reminded me of two affable cooks we'd met two weeks earlier at Hong Kong Noodle on Sampeng Lane, Bangkok. Fantastic noodles, authentic, tasty, cheap. And friendly staff. That visit wasn't memorable because of the incongruity of that experience - after all, the Chinese have a connection to Bangkok. Ankara and Beijing may be boosting ties now but I don't know of any historical Chinese-Turkish connections. Regardless, this is more about making connections between experiences in different parts of the world, in our minds, in our memories. An image, a moment, an event, one reminds us of another. It's all about connecting the dots, don't you think?

Travelling: incongruities #2

I love to discover incongruities when I travel, as I told you. Like the coffee-seller using a shiny Italian espresso machine in Aleppo's medieval souq, I like this image of two guys working a Turkish doner kebap stand in Beijing. It wasn't something I expected to see in downtown Beijing. For me, it was out of context, that's all. And there lies its disarming charm. For me, food is another source of joy when I travel. And I enjoy eating 'foreign' foods in countries to find out how that culture has adapted and reinterpreted another culture's dish to suit its taste. Although nothing beats trying food that's typical of a country's cuisine, those dishes that are representative of a culture and identity, that its people are proud of, that are served with love. I'll never forget my first time in Paris. My friend Sandrine invited us to stay at her place and we arrived to a breakfast of warm croissants, fresh from the bakery. Sure we'd had croissants in Sydney, even in Abu Dhabi, before. But these were Parisian croissants our French friend was proudly serving us in Paris. And to us they were the most delicious, flaky, buttery croissants we'd ever eaten. I can smell them now.

Travelling: incongruities #1

One of travel's delights for me is discovering wonderful incongruities. Like this coffee-seller in Aleppo Souq. While there's nothing unusual about finding coffee-sellers in Syrian souqs, they're usually armed with a traditional coffeepot or thermos, tiny ceramic or plastic cups, and a container of fresh water to wash them in. What's so incongruous about this image is that this young entrepreneur is operating a shiny Italian espresso machine. It's somehow misplaced in a souq that's almost medieval. But why should it seem out of context? It's 2007 after all. And maybe it's not so incongruous to you? Perhaps it's only me. Because while I've been to souqs and bazaars all across the Middle East, I can't recall seeing one with an espresso stand. (I'm discounting Istanbul's Grand Bazaar where there are several contemporary cafés under its vaulted ceilings and other modernities all around.) So while this scene makes me smile, perhaps it's not of any interest to you. The guy's coffee is great, by the way.

Travelling: textures

There are a few reasons as to why I keep thinking about that turtle crossing the road in Syria: one, as I said, was because I'd been reading about Freya Stark's 'virtues of travelling'; I've also been thinking about the things that make travel exciting (unexpected events, the element of surprise, those serendipitous moments, incongruities); and I've been thinking about textures. Since that moment with the turtle, I've not been able to get an image out of my mind... more often than the picture of the turtle slowing crossing that Syrian country road, another image persistently enters my mind. It's a close-up of the turtle's shell, and the extraordinarily beautiful texture of the thing. And like a slide show screening in my head, a whole array of memories of textures in close-up follow... sculpted desert sands (Liwa, Mhmed), seashells on a beach (Ajman, Essaouira, Monkey Mia), and the shiny slippery white of marble rocks polished by the steps of time (Dubrovnik, Hvar, and a host of archaeological sites that have blurred in my mind).

Travelling: virtues put to the test, example 1

Our 'travellers' virtues' were put to the test on our recent road trip in Syria. We'd hired a driver as my partner and I were both busy researching and shooting pics and had enough to do (although my partner reluctantly ended up driving a few days anyway). We were cruising along a remote country road in the northern Kurdish region of Syria - the scenery was spectacular. We'd just dropped off a kindly, craggy-faced old Bedouin man to whom we'd given a ride, when we spotted a small turtle crossing the road. We asked our driver to stop the car and we scrambled out to take a look at the little guy. The three of us stood and watched the turtle ever-so-slowly crawl across the road to seek cover in the undergrowth. Our driver said: "I wish I knew what turtles ate. I'd take him home." We had a few ideas as to what turtles might eat but, as fond as we'd become of our driver, we weren't about to share them.

Travelling: virtues of a traveller

I'm reading the biography of the great female traveller Freya Stark, 'Passionate Nomad: the life of Freya Stark', because I'm writing a book on Syria and Freya spent time there. I'm up to an enlightening chapter about Freya's time in Yemen when she was the leader of an archaeological expedition. She intensely disliked her two British women travelling companions because they weren't interested in the locals and learning about their culture; they were only interested in the piles of rocks they were there to dig up. As a result, Freya formed a list of 'seven cardinal virtues for a traveller' which still strike me as being relevant: "1) To admit standards that are not one's own standards and discriminate the values that are not one's own values; 2) to know how to use stupid men and inadequate tools with equanimity; 3) to be able to dissociate oneself from one's bodily sensations; 4) to be able to take rest and nourishment as and when they come; 5) to love not only nature but human nature also; 6) to have an unpreoccupied, observant, and uncensorious mind - in other words, to be unselfish; and 7) to be as calmly good-tempered at the end of the day as at the beginning." What do you think? Is Freya missing anything?

What happened to the the journey?

I asked: what happened to 'the journey'? Is the process of getting 'there' no longer as important as it once was? My friend Greg says: "Get me there as painlessly as possible. That is still important, but airports are airports, and other than the quality of food, and perhaps the entertainment system, planes are planes. Once landed, then the journey becomes, or can become, important... land and sea travel afford many more 'memory' possibilities. Running around Saigon in a 1968 Honda 90cc motorcycle with two duffle bags hanging off each arm (passenger). Taking a small long tail to go to Ko Lanta Island in South Thailand. Taking the train from Kuala Lumpur up through Malaysia and into Thailand. Trekking across 6 countries in Africa in the back of a Bedford truck. Taking the subway from Charles De Gaulle into Paris. Taking any TGV fast train in France. Riding around Melbourne in a Tram. Hitching to the step pyramids of Sakarah (Egypt) in old diesel lorry, sitting on a crate of dates, a chicken on my lap. I think ground transportation has elements of excitement, adventure, and most importantly a closer look at people and their culture in a 'real' every-day environment." I found this photo I took on a road trip in Morocco. Greg, is this what you mean?

It's the people you meet

It's the people you meet that makes travel cool for you. Not star sights or great restaurants or lively bars, but it's the people you meet at those places, the people you meet on your moves, that makes travel so great. These were the results of my 'what makes travel cool for you?' poll: 80% said it was the people they met; 65% said it was the things they saw; 50% said it was the places they went, stuff they did and what they ate; 45% said it was where they drank; and 25% said it was the stuff they took home and how they moved. If people are so important to our travels, why don't guidebooks tell us more about the people of the places we're going to? If we knew more about the kinds of people we might expect to meet in a place, I wonder if it would inspire and excite us more about that destination? Maybe because there's less written about the 'people factor', because our meetings are 'serendipitous', because there's that element of surprise... maybe that's why our encounters with people on our travels are so memorable. Like this water-seller we met in Alexandria. Would the impact of his surprising warmth and smile been lessened had I have read that I might meet friendly water-sellers in the backstreets of Alexandria?

Dubai: best backstreets vol 2

Not far from Dubai's gritty Karama and Satwa 'hoods is Al-Musalla Rd, Bur Dubai, the city's ‘Little India’. The side streets are lined with Bollywood tape shops and boutiques selling bejewelled and sequinned numbers modelled by kitsch mannequins. There are cheap Pakistani, Azerbaijani and Russian eateries, and Indian sweet shops. There's a tea shop one block from Al-Fahidi roundabout with plastic stools on the pavement out front. On Fridays big groups of expat workers from the Sub-Continent gather outside to share stories from home and, in season, watch cricket on the black and white television. Equally as interesting, in the nearby neighbourhood of Mankhool, near Al-Adhid Rd, local families live in big villas with half a dozen cars out front, there are diminutive white mosques on the corners, and children ride bicycles down the quiet street. This is as close as Dubai gets to an ordinary middle-class 'burb. If you're staying at a beach resort, it's worth wandering around Umm Suqeim, between Jumeirah Beach Hotel and Umm Suqeim beach. In this low-key Emirati neighbourhood of whitewashed single-storey houses and bougainvillea-filled gardens, you'll be sharing the sandy lanes with straying chickens and scrawny cats. Don't worry, it's okay to help yourself to a cup of water from the coolers out front. That's what they're there for.

Dubai: best backstreets vol 1

Travellers to Dubai tend to come for sun, sand and shopping. Few seem interested in exploring anything more than the hotel beach and nearest mall. Yet, like Hong Kong, Dubai's backstreets are endlessly fascinating. While the city's critics complain that Dubai has no culture or soul, they only need to get out of their five star resorts or luxury apartments and wander the backstreets to find the 'real' Dubai. On weekends we like to stroll around Satwa, a laidback neighbourhood of vibrant-coloured houses with gates painted with palm trees. Only a block behind the sleek skyscrapers of Sheikh Zayed Rd, Satwa has a narrow main street lined with second-hand stores, Indian sweet shops and Pakistani eateries, and in the evenings it's just as bustling as the busiest souqs. In the side streets you'll find hole-in-the-wall Afghani bakeries and on Fridays the expat Filipino workers play volleyball on the vacant sandy lots just behind the plush luxury hotels. Not far away, Karama's gritty backstreets are some of Dubai's poorest and yet some of the city's friendliest. Shopkeepers chat on the footpath outside their stores and neighbours stand around on street corners sharing news from home late into the night - the guys, freshly-showered and relaxed, with just a sarong wrapped around their waists. Nowhere in Dubai will you find such community spirit. And such great Goan curries.

Hong Kong: what's to love about the backstreets

I've been thinking about what I love about Hong Kong's backstreets: dried seafood stores with their just-arrived produce laid out on the pavement; down-to-earth eateries with delicious glazed ducks hanging in their windows; medicinal herbalists selling snake skins, animal tails, herbs, potions, and other oddities we can only guess at; tiny shops carving bespoke wooden, ivory and jade seals, a unique souvenir; cluttered second hand stores with whimsical bric-a-brac waiting to be discovered; self-serve bakeries where you take a tray and tongs to select your snacks of choice from an array of tasty Chinese buns and golden Portuguese tarts; textile shops crammed with shoppers bargaining for rolls of gaudy fabrics; tea shops with tins of aromatic teas lining the walls; tiny temples heady with incense like Man Ho Temple, Hong Kong's oldest... What do you like?

Hong Kong: it's all about the backstreets

It's all about the backstreets, isn't it? Whether it's Hong Kong (pictured), Shanghai or Dubai, it's the backstreets of those cities that are the most fascinating. That's where I like to think we find what's 'authentic' - a term in itself that's up for discussion, right? But to really see how people live, we need to get off the high streets and stylish boulevards. I'll admit I love my galleries, restaurants and shops, but I also like to leave the chic streets and get lost. The more I travel the more inclined I am to leave the guidebook at the hotel and just take a map and phrasebook. I'm bored with the term 'off the beaten track' (can we try to find another?) but getting off the tourist trail and wandering around an everyday neighbourhood, even an unfashionable suburban mall, can be just as compelling, don't you think? My favorite big cities to get lost in would have to be Hong Kong, Beijing, Dubai, Damascus, Mumbai, Marrakesh, Milan, Venice, Antwerp and Amsterdam. What are yours?

Hong Kong: local colour, part 2

On the subject of 'colour', I still think of Hong Kong as the classic 'vibrant cosmopolitan Asian city'. Don't you? Bangkok and Tokyo may share that title, but Hong Kong has something special, an effervescence other cities don't have. The city may not have the flamboyance of Shanghai or the audacity of Dubai but Hong Kong has a certain sizzle all its own. Once a city other Asian cities aspired to be, a city every traveller wanted to see, I wonder now if Hong Kong hasn't lost its appeal to some. Revisiting Hong Kong a couple of years ago, the city's biographer Jan Morris said: "Not long ago Hong Kong was one of travel's absolutes - history's absolutes, too. A city-state like no other, spectacularly unique, with the tallest buildings, the most extravagant shops, the grandest hotels, the busiest port and the most terrific airport - a marvellous anomaly, a historical epitome, a boast, a marvel and a show, whirling away night and day in the South China Sea. Traveller, just look at it now!" Her description of Hong Kong could apply to Shanghai or Dubai, but is that still how we see Hong Kong?

Bangkok: local colour, part 1

I'm always looking for colour when I travel, whether it's that sense of vibrancy, energy and immediacy of life on the streets, or a sense of 'local colour', that the neighbourhood I'm exploring is real, gritty and authentic, or simply the riot of colour and sound that can be experienced in cities like Hong Kong, Tokyo and Bangkok. Like this street in Bangkok's Chinatown. Do you know what I mean?

Thailand: as imagined

Don't you love it when you travel and arrive at a place that's exactly as you had imagined? Do you think to yourself "this is exactly how I imagined"? This image of little houses shaded by palm trees against a backdrop of limestone hills near Khao Sam Roi Yot national park was the Thailand of my imagination. My Thailand had nothing to do with hammocks on white sand beaches. Nor blue skies obviously because it was drizzling and moments later the rain was pelting down. The thing I find fascinating about travel is that, like a good film, it's as much about having your expectations met as is it is about the incongruities, chance encounters and serendipitous moments. What do you think?

Thailand: the missing palm trees

I located my missing palm trees. I knew I hadn't imagined them. They're in Thailand, on the coast somewhere between Hua Hin and Khao Sam Roi Yot national park. We'd hired a car in Hua Hin and driven down to the park to see the limestone hills, the monkeys, and the amazing bird life. On the drive back, we followed the coast as much as we could, stopping at creamy sand beaches and tiny fishing villages. It started to rain. I remember thinking at the time that the dramatic contrast between the gray-blue sky and the rust-red soil reminded me of Broome in the north-west of Australia. That's why I took this picture. So how did this memory converge with my Moroccan one? Does that happen to your travel memories?