The rising interest in four-wheeled holiday pleasure in Turkey: motorhome tourists rule!

Motorhome tourists get haircuts at the local barber, shop at local markets and buy more souvenirs from the places they go to see: "They never want to stay in just one place, and unlike the tourists taking advantage of the cheap ‘everything included’ system we see in many of our hotels, they don’t only stay a short time and then return to their countries,” Bulent Karaboncuk, the head of the Turkey Camping and Motor Home Association, said in ‘Four-wheeled holiday pleasure around Turkey’s hidden treasures’ in Sunday’s Zaman. Karaboncuk is campaigning to convince his compatriots to develop motorhome tourism in Turkey, a country that so far only has 20 campsites, by promoting the benefits to the local community: “People who come to tour a country with their motor homes tend to stay longer than other kinds of tourists and tend to mix more with the people of the country they are visiting,” he says. Karaboncuk is also trying to persuade Turks to buy a motorhome rather than a summer house in a coastal development, a growing trend among Turks as much as foreigners: “A holiday in a motor home is actually a way of life. European citizens actually spend their entire holiday in their motor homes… in the summer, the roads are full of motor homes.” However, Karaboncuk says, he’s meeting some resistance: “Unfortunately… we seem to be blind to the importance of this kind of tourism and have set up all sorts of blockades to it.” Onur Onurmen of Can Karavan is resorting to the promotion of creature comforts to increase motorhome sales: “Mobile homes offer the possibility of unlimited comforts in a smaller environment… we are seeing things like plasma televisions and satellite systems in motor homes these days,” Like the rest of the world, it seems in Turkey the comforts of home are important to people, no matter where they are.

Anzac Day imagery and 'young Australia': national identity and the need for heroes

I recall when the defining image of Anzac Day was a shot of craggy faced old diggers in uniform, slouch hats on their heads, medals on chests, marching with pride, many pushing their comrades in wheelchairs. Now the media is saturated with images of young Australians, standing on the beach at Gallipoli, in over-sized sunnies, hoodies and beanies, 'tattoos' of Aussie flags painted on their cheeks, themselves swathed in the Australian flag, like this image here and here. While we've still seen images of veterans on parade, flags being lowered, hymns being sung, and soldiers playing two-up, pictures of young people participating in Anzac Day services, particularly at Gallipoli, have proliferated in the Australian media in recent days. Admittedly, none of the original Anzac diggers are left, and there are fewer veterans around from other campaigns. But I'm curious as to why we weren't seeing more images of the young Iraqi veterans at Anzac Day events? And why the media wasn't taking the opportunity to tell their stories. Perhaps because Iraq is a war Australia shouldn't have fought in and hence once they want to forget? But Anzac Day had come to symbolize so much more for Australia than just Gallipoli - it was always an opportunity to commemorate the fallen from other wars. So why, I'm wondering, when Australia has fought so many other battles, is there now a focus on Gallipoli and on young Australians making the pilgrimage there? When, how and why did Gallipoli begin to inspire young Aussies?

Some revealing comments come from Australia's politicians who joined the grief tourists in Turkey - an act itself that's an indication of how important the event - and being seen to participate in the event - has become to Australians. Interviewed at Gallipoli, Foreign Minister Stephen Smith said: "There was a very good crowd of young Australians there, I think reflecting that these days it's both a commemoration of those that lost their lives... but also a celebration of some of our national characteristics and values and virtues." Smith explained what those were: "The great Australian notion of a fair go, of looking out for one's mates, of a sense of humour in adversity, and the sure and certain knowledge that however bad circumstances might be, there was always someone else worse off who needs a helping hand." He said: "Short moments on the beach, and long months in the trenches, in conditions of the greatest adversity have taken on profound significance over time - they now say something about our characteristic as a people and our spirit as a nation." And: "The soil on which we stand today has extraordinary significance for our people and our nation," he said. "It is a place of terrible loss, solemn memory and now immense national pride."

As an Australian who has been away for a decade, I'm struggling to understand when and how Gallipoli took on this "extraordinary" meaning for Australians. New South Wales Premier Nathan Rees, who was with a school group who travelled to Gallipoli on a Government scholarship, said: "Anzac days at school often had real diggers from the wars come and talk. With the last digger dying 10 years ago that option is not available for the new generation of students." So because the Anzac diggers have all gone, the kids go to Turkey instead? As a travel writer, I'm grappling to understand how a new generation of young grief tourists has formed, but perhaps this statement by Australia's ambassador to Turkey Peter Doyle is the most revealing: "The Anzacs … helped to tell us who we are, we created their legend, and made them our heroes," he said. Ah-huh...

Living like locals

Two months ago we arrived in Antalya, Turkey, from Crete via Northern Cyprus. We weren't in Turkey to research or write about Turkey. We were here to hole up at our friends' villa in Kas and use it as a base for a month to write up the Crete and Cyprus books, write a tonne of travel stories for magazines, and plan our next trips. When it was time to leave Kas, we still had more to do, and more work had come in, so we returned to Antalya and rented an apartment for another month. It's a rooftop apartment in a renovated Ottoman house in the old town and we've been here writing, and living like locals. In some ways, it's a relief to not have the pressure of being a parachute artist. We've had no personal desire to play the traveller either, as we've been here before. So we haven't done anything touristy in our time here. In fact we've eaten out just a couple of times. After two months on the road in Cyprus and Crete, moving hotels every couple of days and eating all our meals in restaurants (and with another few months of the same ahead of us), all we wanted to do was eat at 'home'. We've still gotten to know the city. Just a different side of the city to the average traveller. We know every supermarket in town, and which one to head to for what products. We know the different words for lamb and beef in Turkish, and while our vocabulary reads like a shopping list, we know little more than the usual greetings and courtesies. Yet we've somehow built up a rapport with our butcher, who when he sees us looks pleased and smiles. And he seems pleased that we like him to prepare our lamb cutlets the Turkish way, beaten flat and tender and smothered in spices. We know all the courier companies as we've been sending and receiving contracts and manuscripts between here and London, with varying degrees of success. Let's just say that we know the Kaleici (Old Town) streets better than the couriers. We know Antalya is a college town although you rarely read that anywhere. It has a lively, youthful scene, and these kids, especially the arts students (the ones carrying the sketch pads) have the coolest haircuts we've ever seen, so cool they'd be right at home in Milan. We know where the locals go for their afternoon walks. In the seaside neighborhoods just outside the tourist area. And that in the early evening they like to take beers and food they bring from home and set up picnics on the wooden tables overlooking the water. In the same park young couples canoodle on the benches, parents play with their kids, and a lonely man stares at the sea. We see the man around town. He's missing part of one leg, from the knee down, and he moves about on crutches, balancing a stand hung with fluffy toys and Valentines hearts which he sells to earn his living. He usually wears a camouflage jacket although the other day he was wearing a clean new shirt. And he has tea in another park some days, staring at the sea. We may not know the tourist sights, but each day we're seeing little things that move us more than any museum display. Things most travellers wouldn't notice as they rush through a destination in a few days.

Antalya, Turkey: silhouettes and beers at sunset

I can't get enough of the sunsets in Antalya. Early evening, an hour or so before the sun goes down, we wander down to the old harbour, a ten minute walk from the house we're renting. During the day Terry and I are so focused on work, that apart from our coffee and lunch breaks, our bend-and-stretch moments, and our breaks to play with the kittens (when we arrived four weeks ago we were asked to babysit a cat and her four newborn kittens; the offer was too good to refuse), we rarely speak and our eyes barely leave our laptop screens. Once upon a time when I worked a full-time job my staff used to call me a robot. Now I freelance I'm the same. Terry's no different. We could be working in separate offices, for separate companies. It's like this when we're in write-up mode. So we use our walks to catch up on the day's 'events'. We ignore the touts wanting to sell us carpets, postcards and tacky souvenirs. Especially the guy in the fez who is always posing for a picture with sunburnt German tourists. And we ignore the guys inviting us to sit down in their restaurants for dinner (at 6pm!), to have a beer, to take a boat tour. And we especially ignore the guys in silly velvet costumes yelling out "Hello! Ice-cream!". Today we look at each other and laugh. It sounds as if they're saying hello to their ice creams. Do these calls ever get people in? Is it not enough to display the ice-cream and for tourists to see it and think "Mmm... ice-cream... that looks good, I might have an ice cream..." Do we need to be shouted at? The touts in Turkey are bugging us more than ever before. They should know we're 'locals' by now, I think. Terry and I use our walks to brief each other on emails received, work opportunities and offers, commissions underway, progress made in trip planning, and new project ideas. We always seem to have new project ideas. This is part of our problem. We're never satisfied. We always want more. We take on too much. And we chat about the travel news and world news and emails from family and friends. And then we enjoy the sunset. With the locals. Who walk along the concrete breakwater and back again. Who canoodle on the rocks. Play with their kids. Read newspapers. Paint their boats. Fix their fishing nets. Buy hot nuts. Eat hot nuts. Play guitar. Drink beers. They always drink beers. They really seem to like their beer here, especially the local brand Efes. Once the sun is so low that the people are only silhouettes, we snap a few pics and go 'home'. Back to work. And then I'm reminded that no matter how much we're living like locals, we're not locals. If we were locals, we'd still be down at the harbour drinking beers.

Our latest travel writing: in print and online

As I don't have time to blog at the moment (read why here), feel free to check out our latest writing in print and online. This month in J Mag, Jazeera Airways' in-flight magazine, you can read about walking tours with shepherds, learning to make traditional bread with a village baker, and some of the other rustic activities being offered by Northern Cyprus' first eco-village in our story 'Village People' (online version here). The same issue also features 'Where to Stay: Antalya', my overview of the best hotels in one of Turkey's most agreeable cities. We spent just over two and a half months in Turkey last year writing, including six weeks in Antalya last year renting an apartment in a restored Ottoman house in the old city. The Northern Cyprus story was researched during a trip to Cyprus (we flew to Antalya from Northern Cyprus) to update a few books and write a first edition Cyprus guide for AA Publishing. Online, you can take a look at our piece on Adelaide: Australia's most underrated city, on Viator, which is one of our final posts on a series we wrote while Down Under working on books and stories: see the full series here. The pic? That's the idyllic setting for the walks with the local shepherd that we write about in the Northern Cyprus story. Tempted?

Grief tourism or simply the thing that you do? Are war memorials the new churches?

"I reckon grief tourism is a void filled by a lack of religion or interest in religion. It's the thing that you do when you can't be bothered going to a church on your travels. I think it's still all about entertainment. I don't think it's about actual grief," wrote a reader, Sandy, in response to my posts about Australia's Anzac Day last weekend, here and here. I've been reflecting upon Sandy's comments all week. Anzac Day is a national day of remembrance (as you travel around Australia you'll see the words "Lest we forget" on every war memorial) to honour the 11,000 Australians and New Zealanders who died at Gallipoli, Turkey, during World War 1. Over the years it became a day to commemorate those who fought in other wars serving our country. When I was young it was always a day that was for older people, those who'd fought in the first and/or second world wars and their children (my grandparents/parents), and the grandchildren (my parents/my generation) always seemed to be dragged along reluctantly to parades and dawn services. But for a young generation of Australians, the great-grandchildren of the Anzacs (and younger), participating in Anzac Day, and travelling as far as Gallipoli for 25 April, has become a cool thing to do in recent years. So much so that in 2005, 17,000 people, mostly young Australians, were at Anzac Cove at Gallipoli for the dawn service. What was once a solemn ceremony turned into a day of drunken debauchery with the music videos screened to entertain the crowds creating a party atmosphere fueled by alcohol (officially banned). Following negative media coverage, numbers declined with just 10,000 Aussies present in 2008. However, it was clear that Gallipoli had become a magnet for Aussie backpackers and their behavior had become so bad that in Lonely Planet's recent Turkey guidebook, author Virginia Maxwell urged Aussie travellers to consider their impact as tourists and stay away from Gallipoli on 25 April 2009, and instead visit at other times of the year. (See Gemma Pitcher's story on NineMSN's travel: Lonely Planet: Stay Away from Anzac Service.) Behavior was modified and last weekend's ceremony at Gallipoli was considerably more sober, despite numbers remaining high. But how do we explain the popularity of Gallipoli amongst backpackers who once upon a time would rather have been partying on a beach in Bali, or Goa, or Koh Samui... Has Gallipoli become 'the thing that you do'? Are the tours there a form of 'grief tourism', an opportunity to appreciate what it was really like for those who fought and died at Gallipoli - to feel how cold it could get, to understand how hard it was to climb up those hills - or is it just another key sight for travellers to tick off on a long list that includes everything from the Eiffel Tower to St Peter's Basilica? In the absence of religion, and the lack of knowledge about and disinterest in churches that a young generation must have, are those extravagant European cathedrals now passe? Are war memorials the new churches?


Update: if this topic interests you, you might also be interested in this story "'Drunk, drugged-up Kiwis' treat Gallipoli' as party", published 6 April 09, which was motivated by comments from NZ Herald readers, including one New Zealand traveller on their way to Gallipoli last week who was embarrassed to be part of a group who had no idea what Anzac Day was all about and were simply going to get "hammered".

Top secrets of travel writers: #1 hidden gems are kept hidden for good reason

This is the first in a series of posts on the top secrets of travel writers, partly inspired by The Traveler’s Notebook’s Top 5 Secrets Travel Writers Won’t Tell You, however, my posts won’t be devoted to the perks of the job but rather the stuff travel writers don’t tell you and the things we don’t always write about, and why. Let’s start with hidden gems. We've all seen stories like 'The Hidden Gems of Hawaii' or 'Barcelona’s Secret Spots' or 'Off-the-beaten-track Turkey'. Whilst those recommendations might not be places you’d typically see on the tourist circuit, they’re more likely to be popular local favorites rather than ‘hidden gems’, those wonderful out-of-the-way places that people don’t want you to know about. Why? Locals rarely reveal their secrets spots because they don’t want to see their secluded beaches overcrowded with tourists, beer prices go up at the local pub, or find that they suddenly need to reserve a table at a restaurant they’ve been casually dropping into for years. As for writers, they don’t want to start seeing travellers crowd their neighbourhood favorites or see charming backstreet eateries or bars they’ve discovered while researching cities overran with tourists one day. Because when that happens the very thing we found appealing in the first place – the relaxed charm, laidback style and local atmosphere – disappears. I’ll never forget a restaurant in Buenos Aires that's in all the guidebooks… the reviews suggested it was a local favorite, the food was fine, staff friendly, and atmosphere romantic. The night we went the food was hit and miss, the staff distant and inefficient, and while the place was moodily-lit, there wasn’t a single ounce of atmosphere. Bored-looking tourists and their guidebooks occupied every table. Like us, they were probably wondering if it was the right restaurant. Where were the romance, atmosphere, affable staff, and good food? Probably lost long ago, when locals stopped coming, and the chef and staff lost interest. We crossed it off our list. But as we were living nearby we walked past once or twice a week, to make sure we were justified in doing so. We were. This is why hidden gems are kept that way. Our favorite Buenos Aires restaurant? Sorry. That's our little secret. The beach pictured? Um… it’s on the west coast of Australia somewhere…

A belated Merry Christmas... blame it on the weather? Or a broken bush telegraph?

My In Box has been inundated with belated Christmas messages these past couple of days, so like my slack, um, I mean busy friends, I'm going to say better late than never and I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and have a magic New Year. I'd like to be able to blame my tardiness on the weather. Because we have had horrendously bad weather wherever we've been in Australia. From the top end of the country to the southernmost tip of the mainland. It's to blame for our itinerary being so completely out of whack. Along with a mishap or two - like getting caught in flash foods, which you can read about at Terry's blog Wide angles, wine and wanderlust, and which I'll write about more soon. I could also argue the generally pathetic communications here is at fault, which in my case is very easy as I've continually experienced them all, from mac.com sending messages into cyberspace (or outerspace it seems) to excruciating slow connection speeds, to cell phones that don't work outside cities and towns. And does anyone actually use those 'internet kiosks'?! Australia's telecommunications system is archaic. But I guess in Turkey the were delivering packages to the wrong addresses, in Dubai my replacement credit cards are sent to places I haven't lived or worked in years, and the USA, well they still post people cheques (checks, to my American readers), yep, on paper... We've experienced them all this year. But, no, in this case, we really were too busy to send Christmas cards, e-cards, even email. As you'll notice from my lack of posting in December and November, I haven't had much time for blogging, or much time for anything other than travelling. We've been doing research and shooting photos in the Northern Territory, South Australia and Western Australia, rising at dawn most days, spending all day on the road, driving hundreds of kilometres a day (and then some), eating dinner, then downloading images and re-charging batteries etc in preparation for it all to begin again the next day. It's been tough. We've spent a lot of time in the outback, on remote red-dust roads and corrugated bush tracks, driving through immense desolate landscapes for hours without seeing another person. We've only stopped to take photos, fill the fuel tank, drink tea from the thermos, make some lunch, and enjoy the silence. Because for much of the trip it's just between us and... well... the lizards, the kangaroos, some emus, lots of birds of prey, brumbies (wild horses), ferry donkeys, a dingo or two, oh, and some pretty cute koalas. I hope you'll all forgive me.

Travel writing and travel blogging: how and why we do it

I've recently been interviewed by a couple of bloggers about travel writing, how Terry and I got into it, what we do, why we like it, the joys, the challenges, etc. My first interview was with Liz at Write to Travel, a blog which looks at all aspects of the craft and profession of travel writing, along with the development of her own travel writing career. As I've mentioned before, Liz does an enlightening weekly interview series with writers, the most recent of which is with Angela K Nickerson, an art teacher, tour guide, and now travel writer, and author of 'Journey into Michelangelo's Rome', which sounds wonderful. I'm going to try and get hold of it for our trip to Rome in a couple of weeks. Check out Angela's blog Just Go! If you're interested in travel writing, as everybody seems to be lately (although not for the reasons we'd like), check out the recent post at Perceptive Travel investigating why travel writer's blog and you'll get a bit more of an insight into why they write. There's been so much controversy recently surrounding ethics in travel as a result of the Thomas Kohnstamm Affair, however, Julie Shwietert shares some of the secrets of the trade in the Top 5 Secrets Travel Writers Won't Tell You at the Travellers Notebook, including how those much-discussed discounts can help you. Anne at Instant Native has just posted an interview she did with me as well. Anne provides online concierge services, organizing trips and itineraries for people ('fun menus' as she calls them), and on her blog she provides travel tips, advice on what travel accessories to buy, suggestions for places to go, and stuff to see and do. I've always promoted the idea of becoming an 'instant native', of taking a long slow holiday in a place and living like a local, which I've blogged about before - it's the way Terry and I like to travel when we have time. I'm going to come back to that in future posts and tell you a bit about our time in Turkey, where we're working now.

My new year's resolutions list for 2009

Well, here goes..
1. Make time for more meaningful experiences with family and friends - we didn't see our family and close friends enough in 2008 and when we did it all seemed so fleeting. That has to change.
2. Travel less and stay longer - we lived out of our suitcases for another 365 days in 2008. It's time to stay put for a bit. That doesn't mean no travel, it means when we travel I want to stay longer in places, rent apartments more, and live more like locals, as we did this year in Milan and Turkey. This may be a personal goal of mine, but I also predict it's going to be a growing trend for 2009.
3. Write that book about our three years on the road - that's right, it's almost three years and what an intense three years it's been: we've written, contributed to and updated 26 guidebooks, worked for dozens of different publishers, written scores of articles for magazines, newspapers and websites, travelled to some 30 countries, and caught flights like most people catch buses. It's time to share some stories.
4. Start that online travel business we've been talking about for so long - now you'll just have to wait to hear all about this one... but don't worry, you'll be the first to know.
5. Make our travel experiences more meaningful - after I spend two weeks on a beach in Thailand recovering from our three years of intensive travel, I want to ensure that from then onwards all our travels experiences are more enriching.
6. Volunteer/donate - it's time to give more to people and projects that need support. It's hard to commit to any ongoing volunteering when we travel so much, so I need to explore ways I can donate my services/time ,and one-off volunteering experiences we can do and write about.
7. Support indigenous Australians more - as an Australian I am so embarrassed about the racism that still exists in Australia and how so many of our indigenous people live in poverty, the over-crowding in communities, the lack of educational opportunities and health care, the social problems. Some of my most enriching experiences this year have been meeting indigenous artists and guides in the Northern Territory. These experiences shouldn't be rare. I need to figure out ways in which I can help effect some positive kind of change.
8. Write the books we really want to write - Terry and I have a tonne of ideas we've been developing over the years for books that combine his photography with travel and oral narratives. This is the year we get one of them off the ground.
9. Go places we haven't been before - we have re-visited a lot of places this year, returning to some places for the umpteenth time - but that's why we get commissioned, for our destination expertise, and we have to go where the work is. But this year I want to make an extra effort to go to places I have never been, places that were on my list last year: Yemen, Ethiopia, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Bhutan, Burma, and Guatemala for starters.
10. Slow down - 2008 raced by, more so than any other year. Is this what is meant by 'life after 40'? Or are we just doing too much too fast. I think it's time to spend a bit more time smelling some roses - or simply breathing in the fragrance of eucalyptus in the Aussie bush.
Your turn.

Antalya, Turkey: hot nuts on a cold night

This is the stand of hot nuts for sale down at the old harbour at Antalya that I told you about in my previous post. The woman was there toasting her nuts the first week we arrived when there was still a chill in the air and it was so cold we had the fireplace on downstairs. Now it's spring and the weather has warmed up so much that today felt like summer. She was still there this evening, selling her nuts, and she's added pulses, seeds and sweets to her assortment of offerings. She was alone today and I wondered where the man was who was in the photo I took that night. There was an intimacy there between them that I can't explain. Or perhaps it was just in that moment. Perhaps it just felt good to be close to someone. Someone warm. Because surely hot nuts couldn't be enough? Not when there's a chill in the air.

Living like locals versus luxury and the lifestyle upgrade

Living like locals or lolling about in luxury seem to be the two main factors for consideration for travellers choosing accommodation, according to the readers of this blog and Life in a Venti Cup. Those who want to live like locals want to immerse themselves in a place, absorb the culture and learn the language so opt to rent apartments, villas or farmhouses. And for families, the added value is space for the kids and savings to be made from renting, say, an apartment in Paris for a week as opposed to hotels for the same period. Then there's the convenience, not only for families, but for those who want to be able to eat when they want to eat and not rush down to breakfast, to shop at the local market and dine in and not eat all meals out, to be able to do laundry instead of paying exorbitant prices at a hotel or have the hassle of heading to a laundromat. On the other hand, those preferring hotels over vacation rentals are essentially looking for a lifestyle upgrade. They want to be pampered. They want The Treatment: a valet to park the car, a porter to take care of their luggage, and a concierge to show them a good time. They want breakfast in bed and room service, a daily paper delivered, access to a swimming pool, fitness centre, spa and so on. These days, however, there are vacation rentals that offer the best of both worlds, as Franki at Life in a Venti Cup also pointed out. A couple of years ago we rented a chic, spacious, penthouse apartment in Brussels through vbro.com. It had a cool, contemporary look, was super comfortable and fully equipped with fantastic features from a flat screen TV with DVD and stereo to a full kitchen with espresso maker and dishwasher. The owner met us for a drink, shared his insider secrets, and was on hand when we needed him, along with a cleaner who lived downstairs. A couple of months ago we stayed at Villa Aphrodite in Kas, Turkey that was easily as well-equipped, came with a folder of fabulous information that could have been compiled by a concierge, including restaurants, cafes, bars and shops hand-picked by the owner (a friend actually), and had the added bonus of a caretaker whose duties ranged from delivering fresh bread daily to cooking up a Turkish-style barbecue. At both places we were able to live like locals as well as enjoy a bit of luxury.

The image? Some snacks Terry and I whipped up one afternoon using local produce, to savour as we took in the sunset overlooking the infinity pool at Kas Villa. How many hotels could you do that at?

Are there better ways we could be spending Christmas?

We made it back to Perth, Australia, in the nick of time on Christmas Eve, so we could spend Christmas with my family - my Mum, sister and her husband and children. On Christmas morning we watched the kids open their "hundreds" (quoting my cute little niece here) of presents. Combined with delight at seeing their excited little faces, however, I couldn't help feeling pangs of... what was it... guilt... sadness... regret even? (perhaps all three), that there were so many other children out there in the world who weren't receiving gifts, who didn't have one toy let alone hundreds, who had nothing to celebrate, and who probably didn't even have a meal that day. Later that afternoon we took the kids to their neighborhood park and while the guys played football with the boys, I built sandcastles in the sandpit with my niece while my Mum watched. While it was fun, I couldn't help but think that we could be somewhere else... as we've been driving around Australia we've been listening to rural ABC radio whenever we've had reception. I recalled the calls from various charity representatives in Australia asking listeners to donate food packages and kids toys to give to the poor and homeless. They were desperate this year as people had given less than usual due to the economic climate and their own precarious circumstances. On another program, listeners phoned in to chat about how they would spend Christmas Day. Most rattled off the usual Christmas plans - present opening with the kids in the morning, roast lunch with the in-laws, Turkey feast for dinner, a seafood barbecue by the beach with friends, and so on. However, two callers caught my attention. One was a woman who said her family - and a large family at that - were doing what they did every Christmas and spending the day serving people at a soup kitchen which was hosting a charity lunch for the homeless. They were doing something for people who no longer had a family, people who didn't have a home. Another woman, a 92 year old (yep, that's no typo), was doing what she did every year (indeed she donated her time once a week), and was going down to the "old people's home" to spend time with people who obviously weren't as fit and healthy as she was. It occurred to me I could be doing more. There are a couple of ideas for me there as to how we could spend our next Christmas. (And the makings of a New Year's resolution or two.) But I'm wondering what else we could be doing... any ideas?

Life of a Travel Writer: when the travel writer comes to her senses

After only five hours sleep, a not so great day yesterday, and still feeling bleary eyed and in need of a few hours more, this weary travel writer nevertheless rose early this morning and went downstairs. Even before putting on the coffee she opened the French doors in the living-dining area (now their cluttered office) in the little Milano apartment (see here), and she looked out to see a cobalt blue sky. It was a relief after several weeks of dreary grey skies and occasional rain showers, punctuated by haze and fog, or, at best, blue sky with light cloud cover, none of which are optimum conditions for shooting books. Especially to photo editors and art directors who always want to see cerulean, no matter what Terry says about clouds being a photographer's friend. But as the writer watched the suited Milanese with briefcases in hand, the models carrying portfolios, and the students with backpacks slung over their shoulders, all rushing up and down the stairs of the charming bridges that cross the Navigli canal, on their way to work and school, she also felt relieved. Relieved that she didn't have a 9 to 5 routine (really 7 to 6, or even 6 to 7 when you count breakfast, shower and travel), that she didn't have to sit in rush hour traffic or on a crowded train, and then go through the monotonous motions of the day, which no matter how interesting a job is and how fascinating the people are you with work, still involves a routine. The travel writer decided she would rather go without sleep, food and showers, and have these periods of intense work and long days at a computer, to have the weeks when they're driving through stunning landscapes in places like Crete or Syria or enjoying sunsets over castles and beaches in Italy and Turkey. Especially if the computer is in front of a window looking on to the streets of Milan. And Amsterdam. And Buenos Aires. And Brussels... And so the travel writer came to her senses.

The photo? Our work space in Brussels two years ago. Grey skies there too, but we didn't mind with that view.

Cool camping: creature comforts, clever marketing and celebrity campers

A Mongolian yurt, luxury tented cabin, wooden wigwam, or plain old pup tent... wherever you choose to roll out your sleeping bag know that (just like caravanning), camping is cool. Or so the media has been insisting for a while now. More Brits were taking their tents to the country than ever before, BBC News told us in April 2006, raising the question “So how did camping become cool?” in ‘Why the British Carry on Camping’: “Boy scouts, hippies and soggy tents… camping used to have an image problem”, but not anymore. Thanks to celebrity campers Kate Moss, Jodie Kidd and Sienna Miller taking an interest in pitching tents (sound familiar?), along with chic camping gear to show off - “Ted Baker blow-up mattresses, Cath Kidston sleeping bags or Mongolian-style yurts” – camping became “more palatable” to those who loved the idea of the great outdoors but didn’t want to give up their creature comforts. While Cool Camping series author Jonathan Knight admitted top designers introduced camping to a new audience by bringing a sense of style to the experience, he said there was more to the trend: "The designers made it cool but the popularity is because more and more people are living in towns and cities, many without a garden or outdoor space, and camping offers them an antidote to urban life." (As one happy camper in the story said: "You can gather round a campfire with smoke in our faces and there's something very relaxing about that.") Also that month in an article called ‘Cool Camping’ The Observer claimed camping had come a long way since “the dank ages”: “Pull up the tent pegs of history and pack away memories of soggy childhood camping trips,” Rhiannon Batten wrote, “Nowadays, staying under canvas is less about smelly sleeping bags and dank communal toilet blocks and more about thread-counted sheets and tents that come with private showers… Pitch up at the right spot and you'll find facilities designed with an altogether new breed of camper in mind - one who likes the idea of getting back to basics just so long as it involves the comfort of a Cath Kidston sleeping bag, Ted Baker blow-up mattress or even a kingsize bed and a duck-down duvet. Welcome to cool camping.” (Haven't we read this somewhere before?) The writer then gave us a rundown of cool camping options: Kenyan safari-style lodges, Maharaja-type hunting tents, yoga-camps in Turkey, hi-tech Alpine eco-pods in Switzerland, and – the "ultimate in bohemian chic" – Mongolian yurts in Cornwall. What has me wondering is not which was cool first, camping or caravanning, but who sent out the press release? Jonathon Knight? Or was it Cath Kidston or Ted Baker? Whoever it was, at least they got everyone outdoors.

The photo? Oh, that old thing, that's... um... our luxury 'tent' at the Four Seasons Tented Camp at the Golden Triangle.

** I've been wondering how many people actually live and travel in yurts, other than Mongolians of course... and the people over at TrekHound have only sparked my curiosity further with their extraordinary compilation of research on yurts. Check this out! Very impressive.

Our latest travel writing: in print and online

The sun is shining here today in Antalya, Turkey. The sky is cobalt-blue, there's a clarity to the light, a crispness in the air, and bird-song everywhere. It feels like Spring again!
I've been so preoccupied with the Lonely Planet scandal, I've forgotten to share some things with you: our 'Dhows, Dolphins & Cigarette Smugglers' story on the magical Musandam Peninsula, Oman (pictured), a favorite weekend getaway of ours, is in the latest issue of one of our favorite Aussie travel magazines Get Lost. While currently in store down under, I'll also pop a PDF in my media bistro portfolio (see link to right), along with recently published stories, such as my shopping-focused Dubai guide for Ritz-Carlton magazine, a feature on Dubai's audacious architecture for Canvas, and a Macau piece for MGM's M Lifestyle. The April issue of Gulf Life, Gulf Air's in-flight mag, has a special on Entrepreneurs for which we interviewed four young go-getters in Dubai, Sheikha Maisa Al Qassimi (a real life princess and fashion entrepreneur), Shehab Hamad (a club, culture, life-style-setter) and Sunny Rahbar and Claudia Cellini (contemporary art gallery owner-curator-groundbreakers). The next issue features the Gulf's seven wonders of the contemporary world and a story on Abu Dhabi's Masdar initiative and Norman Foster-designed Masdar eco-city written by my co-writer Terry. We also have a 'Beyond the Beach' guide to Cyprus coming out in Jazeera's Airway's groovy J Magazine. Terry has written a three-day itinerary covering the Top Things to do in Dubai for Viator which just went live today, and there are more to come. We've also been doing destination guides to cities around the globe for Triporati. If you're planning a trip to Dubai, print off our exhaustive Best of Dubai guide which we wrote for National Geographic Traveller's Places of a Lifetime series, for which we spent several weeks collecting opinions, advice, tips, and even recipes, from chefs, sommeliers, food critics, cultural experts, DJs, music critics, shopping gurus, fashion experts, magazine editors, and other travel writers, on their favorite spots in Dubai; it's now up on the NGT website.

Places You Must Go This Spring: part 1

It's time to get out and smell the wildflowers! Pack your walking boots, grab your picnic basket, get on a plane, and prepare to drive through breathtaking scenery. See my previous post for the criteria for selecting these sublime spring destinations:
1) CRETE – the isolated eastern coast is dotted with tiny seaside communities of summer cottages peeling with paint and pristine sandy beaches; behind them colossal mountains cradle lush, fertile farming plateaus with quaint stone villages. In March the area is dotted with flowers, but in April there's an explosion of colour here and also on the equally isolated and mountainous western coast.
2) MAINLAND GREECE – the deep blue Prespa lakes and sleep fishing village of Psarádes near the Macedonian and Albanian borders, Meteora with its magical mountain-top monasteries (pictured), the magnificent Pindos Mountains and Zagoria villages where traditional grey stone houses cling to the hillside, the Pelopponese with its remote Mani, fertile Arcadia and wild Sparta, the dramatic Parnonas Mountains, and because I can't resist including one island, fragrant Corfu. For more ideas, see our Greece trip journal written during a Spring 2006 research trip for Lonely Planet.
3) TURKEY - all along the Mediterranean you'll find flowers blooming everywhere, especially in the countryside surrounding the beachside villages of Olimpos, Patara and Cirali, around the tomato-growing town of Kumluova, and in the woods around the ruins of Kaya. On a Sunday you'll frequently see empty cars parked on the side of the road - their owners, families of locals can be seen picking flowers in the fields or picnicking in the forests. You'd be wise to follow their example.

Making connections: the lock of love

The more I travel the more I make connections. Between people, places, cultures, countries, and all kinds of kooky things. The more connections I make, the more everything and everyone seems the same. In a heartening kind of way. And the more this crazy planet and my even crazier life seem to be like one big magical game of connect the dots. A puzzle I'm working on that I hope will never end. Sometimes the way things connect across the globe, between seemingly disparate points and things, surprises me. Other times it just makes so much sense. Uh-huh! Oh I get it! Right... And sometimes, the connections, those similarities, those little quirks, habits and customs we all share... well, they just make me smile. As we've been travelling a lot recently (well, pretty much constantly for 2.5 years to be precise!), I keep seeing a strange but wonderful custom everywhere... the habit of fixing these locks of love to a romantic place. Locks clamped to big old iron gates, fixed to fences that look out over a stunning landscape, and locks joined to beautiful bridges all over the world. From Syria to Cyprus, Turkey to Italy, everywhere people are fixing locks to places and throwing away (or giving to their loved-one?) the key. Locks carved, scratched and painted with messages of love: be mine forever, marry me, I'll love you 'til I die... that kind of thing. These locks were on a bridge in Verona, Italy, the home of Romeo and Juliet. Could there be a better way at a better spot to declare your love for someone then throw away (perhaps swallow?) the key? I'm curious to know, in my eagerness to make connections... where did it all start? Where does it end? How many locks of love have you come across in your travels? Have you ever left a lock somewhere? What did it say? And what on earth did you do with the key?

Cool caravanning: it’s okay, it's safe to mention the c-word

So then, is caravanning really cool? The UK media told us it was back in 2004 when The Guardian assured us it was safe to mention the c-word. For ‘Go on admit it, my van’s the man’, writer Tom Templeton spent a weekend driving a sleek silver 'teardrop of a caravan' and was converted. It wasn’t only the cute design of the 520 kilo T@B van that persuaded him, but that he'd stayed in scenic Caravan Club sites such as Kentsford Farm,“a vast and beautiful orchard, trees groaning with cider apples, begging to be scrumped, peacocks, guinea fowls and strange turkey-like ducks grimble around the place, a brook babbles past...” He concluded: “I can see the appeal of caravanning. Basically you pitch up, hand over a fiver, untether your caravan, wind out the legs in a process that lasts about five minutes and, with the night's billet secure and snug, are then free to head off on an adventure - or alternatively make a cup of tea.” But when Tom asked friends how cool caravanning was, two theories emerged: “One, that it's like having an ugly best friend - surrounding yourself with uncool stuff makes you look all the cooler. Two, that caravanning is cool in a retro, hippyish kind of way, with overtones of the traveller movement and circuses.” Two years later The Observer's Gemma Bowes explained ‘How Caravans Became Cool’. “It's official: caravanning is now cool,” she wrote, “Style magazines have long been celebrating the retro charms of the caravan, but figures from the Caravan Club confirm that holidays on wheels are enjoying something of a revival.” According to the Club, which had almost 1,000,000 million members, caravanning was the most popular paid-for UK holiday, accounting for 17% of vacations in Britain. The 2006 summer heatwave and security crisis at UK airports contributed to the popularity surge, along with high-profile members and a new generation of enthusiasts such as Kate Moss, Sean Penn, Nicole Richie, Jamie Oliver, and Lenny Kravitz, who'd given it a makeover. “Caravanning has become very fashionable,” said the Club spokesperson, “Young couples who want to go surfing or travelling are trying it, as are families and retirees, and it's been made stylish by the revival of the VW Campervan and designer Airstream caravan.” Or, as the manager of the International Caravan and Motorhome Show said: “It is no longer Carry on Camping, bad cabarets and tin boxes on wheels.” A year later the Mirror was insisting “Caravanning's cool (honest): Cheap flights to Europe are so 2006… just ask the growing list of celebrities who are choosing caravans instead of crowded airports.” The star factor was clearly what made caravanning cool for The Mirror: “Next time you're trapped behind a caravan on a country road, mocking its boring occupants, just think... it's as likely to be Billie Piper or Helen Mirren holding you up as a geeky guy from the Caravan Club.” With an estimated four million Brits a year caravanning, it was more popular than ever. “That's right,” The Mirror told us, “there's now nothing cooler than a caravan.”

Making connections: traditions and rituals of love and devotion, or, When you wish upon a heart

I found another photo that's similar to the one I showed you earlier of the ribbons and pieces of cloth tied at an Islamic shrine in Syria. I took this photo in the lovely garden of a gold onion domed Russian Orthodox church in the Bulgarian countryside, where the branches of a tree were tied with hundreds of strings, many bearing tiny trinkets such as hearts. The universal symbol for love, no? So once again I'm reminded of that 1970s song 'Tie a yellow ribbon round the ole Oak tree...' One theory, from the USA, has the tradition of ribbon-tying dating back to the 19th century when women wore yellow ribbons to show their devotion to their 'sweethearts serving in the US Cavalry (yellow being the official Cavalry colour), and then sees it widening throughout society in the 1970s to signify remembrance of a loved one away in the military or in prison. During the ongoing Iraq War, families of US soldiers have been wrapping large yellow ribbons around their porches. The American Folklore Centre researched the origins of the tradition, finding connections to the Civil War, a prison legend cited in a 1959 book, and even to Shakespeare's Othello. Having travelled all over the world, and seen ribbons and strings (like the locks) in many different countries, I find it baffling that a researcher would only look at Western references and that their research didn't cross more borders, cultures and religions. This academic paper I found on 'Religious practices in the Turco-Iranian world: continuity and change' by Martin van Bruinessen, a scholar from Utrecht University, looks at the long list of 'superstitious' (and therefore anti-Islamic) rituals of Muslim pilgrims in Turkey, who treat visits to shrines as cheap family outings and behave like ordinary tourists; they tie pieces of cloth to the gate of the shrine and ribbons and strings to trees, in addition to lighting candles, placing 'wishing stones' on the tombs, and circling the courtyard trees seven times. The Russian (and Greek) Orthodox Christians do the same thing. I remember participating in the act with my Russian grandparents every Easter, walking around the Church at midnight, holding candles. And I expect they do the same thing in Bulgaria.