10 reasons to travel to Calabria: part 1

Calabria is the southern Italian region that is the toe of Italy's boot. Not only is it Europe's best value destination but it has more going for it than you'd guess from the little coverage it receives in the travel press. Having just crisscrossed Calabria to research a guidebook, these are the reasons I think you need to visit:
1. Tropea: stroll the cobblestone streets of Calabria's most sophisticated seaside town in the evening and you'd be forgiven for thinking you're in a little version of Rome, for around every corner is an excellent trattoria or enoteca ran by a food-loving family. Dramatically set on a rocky headland, its elegant pastel painted palazzi are perched atop cliffs skirted by two of the region's most alluring sandy beaches. The crystal clear aquamarine waters are especially enticing when viewed from the pretty piazzas above, and the Santa Maria dell'Isola convent, pictured, is simply stunning.
2. Calabrian cuisine: not only is it spicy, tasty and rustic, it relies heavily on fresh seafood, especially swordfish, cod, squid and sea urchin, and makes splendid use of local staples like red onions, aubergines and porcini mushrooms when in season. But it's the spicy flavors we loved best, the fantastic salamis, peperoncino (peppers) and the local specialty, fiery 'nduja, a spicy pork salami paste - our favorite! (See the Bleeding Espresso blog for Calabrian food tips and recipes.)
3. Aspromonte National Park: some guidebooks suggest avoiding this breathtakingly beautiful area, which it's said is the heartland of the Calabrian mafia, however, locals love these mountains for hiking and driving and guides will happily take you on treks. If you're too scared to get out of the car then simply enjoy a low-key cruise along the lovely winding road as it snakes through thick forests of birch, fir and pine trees that frequently come together to form a shaded canopy overhead. We loved the route from Melito di Porto Salvo via Chorio and Bagaladi to Gamberie where you can take a left down the coast to Reggio Calabria; make a detour to mighty Montalto at 1955 metres.
4. Scilla: another sublime seaside resort with a charming upper town, with a castle and churches, dramatically perched on a headland high above the ocean, and atmospheric lower towns either side, one boasting old buildings jutting into the sea with al fresco restaurants sitting over the water and a port that's fascinating to visit when the fishing boats come in, while the other side has a wide sandy beach with superb seafood restaurants and lidos that are popular with Italians in summer.
5. Morano Calabro: Calabria seems to have more hilltop towns than the whole of Italy. These atmospheric medieval villages sprawl across hills and spill down mountains, and even though there's little to actually see or do, sometimes it's enough to simply gaze at their beauty from a good vantage point (see the pic of Morano that accompanies yesterday's post). The more adventurous and energetic can explore the steep narrow streets, but be prepared for both stares from locals (some villages, Morano included, are not used to foreigners) and disappointment (often the view is better from a distance). In my opinion, Morano is the most impressive of dozens of similar towns.
More to come on Calabria...

Calabria: Europe's best value destination

What makes a destination great value? For me, it's great hotels at good prices, excellent cafes, restaurants and bars that are inexpensive, and lots of cool stuff to see and do that costs little if anything, interesting streets to explore, gorgeous architecture to admire, fascinating people to watch from a park bench. During the weeks we recently spent crisscrossing Calabria to research a new guidebook we were relieved to find the southern Italian region to be such terrific value. Calabria is one of Europe's best value destinations. So what makes it so?
1. Alluring hotels at equally attractive prices: you can check in to elegant palazzos, old-world manor houses, chic apartments, and charming 3-5 star hotels from €60-120 a night. Of the many atmospheric places we stayed at we loved Torre Camigliati at Camigliatello, Palazzo delle Clarisse at Amantea, and Residenza Il Barone in Tropea. Alternatively, you could pay €30-50 for a B&B. See the BB-Reggio site for starters. Venere.com also has a great selection of Calabrian hotels, B&Bs and apartments.
2. Flavorsome and refined local cuisine at fabulous prices: we often found the Michelin-listed restaurants with their chi-chi decor and fussy food to be the most disappointing (more on that later) while the most memorable meals were to be had at vibrant, family-run places where the emphasis was on the freshest ingredients simply cooked. Prices ranged from €40 for a 2-course meal for two with a couple of glasses of wine to around €120 for a 5- or 6-course degustation menu for two and a fantastic bottle of wine. Our favorites included La Tavernetta at Camigliatello, Palazzo Altomonte in Altomonte, Il Fiore del Cappero at Reggio Calabria, Tropea's Ristorante Da Cece, and Albergo Ristorante Villa San Domenico at Morano Calabro (pictured). In simple pizzerias you can find enormous pizzas starting from €6 and in basic trattorias a 3-course set lunch menu for as little as €12.
3. Eye candy wherever you look and as far as you can see and an endless array of things to do (all free or inexpensive): exquisite art and sculpture in historic churches, fascinating Greek and Roman finds in archaeological museums, elegant old town architecture, medieval villages sprawled across hilltops with atmospheric alleyways, pretty piazas and seaside promenades where you can sit back and watch the world go by or join the evening passagietta, spectacular mountain scenery and lush countryside to drive or hike, stunning coastline with attractive beaches (although definitely not the world's best), crystal clear azure waters to swim, and splendid sea vistas with sublime sunsets to savour.

Is Calabria the new Puglia?

Do you remember how Puglia was touted as "the new Tuscany" by the travel media last year? Well, as we recently discovered, the reality is very different. We've just completed a road trip in Calabria researching a guidebook, and spent some time in Basilicata at the start of the trip and drove through Basilicata and Puglia at the end. Conde Nast Traveller called this remote heel of Italy's boot "captivating", writing that Lecce was "the Florence of the Baroque". But then the travel media seems to be on an endless search for 'undiscovered' places to promote as the next hot destination, and once 'discovered', there's a tendency to compare the place with another. As if our imaginations were incapable of conceiving something new or different. A few years ago Croatia was the new Greece, now Montenegro is the new Croatia, and even Abu Dhabi is being hailed as the new Dubai. (Oh, I think I wrote that, but you know what I mean.) Before Puglia, Basilicata was under the spotlight, after it hit the screen in Mel Gibson's The Passion of Christ, which was filmed in Matera, pictured. But if you travel through either Italian regions, you'll quickly realize that while they may boast two of southern Italy's most atmospheric cities in Matera and Lecce, and some dramatic, craggy coastline and azure-colored sea more reminiscent of Greece than Italy, they're also home to some of Italy's scruffiest beaches, shabbiest towns, driest countryside, and some seriously ugly urban development. Conde Nast Traveller's website might claim you'll be "gloriously alone" if you venture this far south, but you won't. Aside from the fact that the south has always been popular with Italian summer holidaymakers because it's cheaper than the northern rivieras (70% of the region's tourists are Italian), we saw more tour buses in Matera's public car park in one morning than we did during our whole research trip in Calabria. But is Calabria the new Puglia? Let's just say that first you'd better get any images of a low-key Tuscany or quaint Florence out of your head. Then let's consider Calabria on its own terms.

Putting context back into travel, OR why contextualizing travel is cool

Now, you know I'm not a fan of guides (see this post) and my recent observation of a tour guide who stopped at each key sight at the Roman Forum to read passages from a guidebook to her bored tour group only reaffirmed many of my beliefs on guides and guided tours. Yet Context Travel is on an altogether different level. For starters, they prefer to call their guides 'docents', an American term for university professors or lecturers, reflecting the qualifications and expertise of their guides, many of whom are scholars who moved to Italy to complete doctorates on the subjects they're leading tours on. And they come from a wide variety of disciplines, including archaeologists, chefs, architects, artists, authors, and historians. While some of their walks involve stimulating strolls through Rome's long history, other offerings range from a literary discussion about Dante as you wander Florence's streets to an introduction to Roman cuisine while exploring lively local markets, along with lighter activities from drawing workshops at Castel Sant' Angelo to jogging tours through Rome's city streets. We did an inspiring and enlightening Italian language workshop in a buzzy local enoteca, an engaging walk through ancient Rome, a fun bar-hopping introduction to Italian wine, and an exclusive private shopping tour to visit some of Rome's best bespoke artisans. Context's owner Paul Bennett says: "Our walking seminars are, on some levels, love songs, paeans, and odes to a place that fascinates us day by day. Like Cupid with his arrows, Context events are designed to make you fall in love with Rome." We certainly came away from each and every engaging and eye-opening experience feeling like somehow had helped us gently scrape away a layer or two of the city so that we knew and loved it better than we had before. Don't you love it when that happens?

Enriching the experience of travel: it's all about context

I have a secret: despite writing and contributing to some 25 Lonely Planet guidebooks, I have to admit I've always preferred Rough Guides - primarily for their fantastic Contexts chapters at the back of the books. While many guidebook publishers have been cutting back on word counts in the history, politics and culture chapters of their guides over recent years (yes, I'm talking about you, Lonely Planet!), Rough Guides have maintained their compelling Contexts chapters. These comprehensive sections sometimes stretch to 50 pages or more, demonstrating an appreciation that this is the kind of fascinating stuff that really enriches a traveller's experience of a place, helping us to understand a culture and get beneath the skin of a destination. Context is therefore a fitting name for the first-rate organization with whom we recently did a number of very cool workshops and walking tours in Rome. More on Context and context soon!

The Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel after hours: the only way to go

If you've visited the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel in Rome, then you probably did so with thousands of other people - or, to be more precise, tens of thousands. The attraction is a magnet for a mindbogglingly 25,000 people a day. The hours of waiting in the inconceivably long line that stretches around the huge block that's home to the Vatican and St Peter's Basilica, all the way to the square itself, is a major deterrence for many. It was for us on our first trip to Rome ten years ago. And even if you're smart enough to book tickets in advance, or desperate enough to join a tour group, once inside the experience can be tremendously disappointing. You're swept up in a sea of sweaty people and the feeling is akin to drowning. There's little room to move to stop to appreciate something that might catch your eye. You can't hear yourself think to even begin to reflect upon the exquisite art for the constant hum of thousands of voices and the interminable irritating lectures shouted out by guides to their groups in an attempt to be heard above the drone. The hundreds of little flags in the air waved about by guides so they don't lose any sheep from the flock obstructs your vision. Movement through the galleries is at a snail's pace simply because there is nowhere to move so everyone shuffles slowly along. Descending the stairs was a suffocating experience, and not one for claustrophobics. Once inside the Sistine Chapel, where entry is measured and numbers restricted, we were whisked through so swiftly (so the other 24,998 people could have their turn!) that there was little time to enjoy what must be at one and the same time the world's most sublime religious monument and one of the most breathtakingly beautiful art galleries on the planet. My memory of the chapel as a result was hazy, so when Viator, whom we occasionally write for (see our Top things to do in Dubai and our Dubai Guide: Top 10 off the beaten path experiences), invited us to join a private after hours tour we jumped at the chance. The experience was the complete opposite of that first visit four years ago. The corridors were so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the marble floor. Our expert guide - an art historian with a PhD who spent 3 years in the Vatican libraries researching her thesis! - was able to take her time pointing out important works, and she explained them with an infectious enthusiasm and such passion that she had tears in her eyes at times. We got to dawdle through the galleries and stop wherever we wanted to admire the work. And as for our visit to the Sistine Chapel itself, we had so much time to take in the sublime space that each painting is so firmly imprinted in my mind that if I was an artist I could sketch out the entire interior for you. A private tour is the only way to go. And if you don't believe me, do it both ways and then let me know what you think. I'll let you know when our post about the experience is up on the Viator blog.

When guided tours are close to spiritual experiences: I've been converted

I'm converted. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. I can now reveal I'm addicted to cool guided tours. My definition? Enriching, focused, well thought-out, specialized tours to compelling places with small groups (so miniscule you can remember everyone's names), led by super qualified and highly specialized guides who are as fascinating as the places you're visiting. (Read this post for my criteria for selecting guides.) I am now so hooked on these things that we've not long finished a series of walking tours in Rome with Context that I'm already begging them for more and finding out where I can score my next walk - Venice next month! But can I make it until then?! The cause of this change in heart, taste and opinion? Two superb organizations, Context and Viator, with whom we did a series of exceptional walking tours, private visits and bespoke tours in Rome recently. Now, because you know how much I've disliked my experience of guided tours in the past (read my post: Good guides, bad guides: the bad guides), you're probably thinking these must have been rather extraordinary experiences to change my mind. They were. But I'm in Milan now, and it's aperitivi hour and time for pre-dinner drinks so I'll get back to you tomorrow to tell you more about the walks, and Calabria, and Milan. Ciao!

Pictured? The Vatican Museums after hours. Yes, that's right - when everyone else has gone home. There were just eight of us on Viator's private tour and everyone agreed it was worth every cent for the sublime experience of enjoying the Sistine Chapel in silence.

It's good to be a tourist in... Rome!

Before I tell you about our travels in Calabria, I must share something about our recent visit to Rome (post-Istanbul) where we spent a week gathering content for several travel stories, experiencing walking tours, hotels, restaurants, and museums, doing interviews with fascinating locals, and for my husband and co-writer Terry, shooting photos. Despite the fact that we were working, for the first time in a long time, I felt like a tourist. And, much to my surprise, it felt fantastic. We'd been to Rome a few times before, yet this trip was different. The first time we visited, a decade ago, Terry and I were spending a summer backpacking through Italy, Spain and Portugal. The second trip I took my mother as part of a summer sojourn to places she'd always wanted to go but had never been - Istanbul, the Greek Islands, Paris, Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Spain - as a way toward healing and learning to live again following my dad's death from cancer. The third visit was at the end of another long Italian summer for Terry and I that involved writing a book in Milan, followed by (our reward!) travel to some Italian places we'd never been together, a driving trip through Sicily, time kicking back on the Aeolian Islands, a jaunt to the Amalfi Coast and Capri where our days were spent walking and swimming and nights spent eating and drinking, and finally some days in each of Napoli and Roma where we did the design hotels, hot new restaurants, and hip bars. This trip to Rome was altogether different. For the stories we were researching we did a series of guided tours and walks (something we never do), and we stayed in the Vatican City and Via Veneto, where it's impossible to escape the tour groups and hoards of tourists. We were just two of tens of thousands of travellers clutching our guidebooks as we did the sights. Sure I was making lengthy notes and observing the people as much as the places, and Terry was carting around one too many cameras to be a tourist, but still we somehow got caught up in the flow. Like little leaves we floated down Rome's cobblestone streets, centuries of complex history surrounding us, and we loved it. For the first time in a long time I felt so exhilarated by a city, it was as if I was experiencing it for the first time. And it felt great. It felt good to be a tourist in Rome. But I'm not sure how many other cities I could say that about...

On the road again... in Calabria!

We've been on the road in Calabria, the 'toe' of Italy's boot. But with little internet access, so please forgive me for the silence. We've been researching and shooting a new guidebook, the first by a major English-language publisher to this little-visited region. (Ah, but how 'little-visited' is it? More on that soon.) Today the speedometer hit 2,670 kilometers as we completed our loop of the region, and with it most of our research of the area. We've visited every major city and all of the most interesting towns and villages. We've criss-crossed Calabria several times, and at one point as we drove down the gorgeous (albeit very narrow and extremely winding) road from Gimigliano to Tiriolo we could look to one side and see the azure-coloured Ionian Sea and to the other the equally alluring Tyrrhenian Sea. It must be Italy's narrowest stretch of land. So far (we still have another four or five days left), it's been a trip that has both exceeded our expectations as much as it has disappointed, and one that's confirmed many of our preconceived ideas about the place while being full of many surprises. But isn't that what travelling is all about? More on Calabria soon! Being on the road is exhausting and I desperately need some sleep.

Or... everything old is new again

While in Istanbul last week I picked up the May special 'Europe' issue of US Travel + Leisure with a feature on "Hidden European Neighbourhoods". The author writes: "Beyoglu is now reclaiming its status as Istanbul's favourite playground". Yet Beyoglu has always been Istanbul's commercial heart and its main pedestrianised street is the city's main shopping boulevard. Beyoglu is hardly "hidden" and it has always had a buzz about it, especially in the evening when it seems the whole of Turkey is out shopping, eating and drinking. The neighbourhoods that have experienced a renaissance in recent years are Tunel, Cukurcuma and Cihangir, considered the coolest by locals and the most interesting to explore for travellers with their cutting-edge boutiques, music stores, vintage clothes shops, antique stores, hip cafes and bars. Take a look at 'Istanbul, the Undiscovered Capital of Cool', which we published in April 2007. I'm in Rome this week, so it's amusing to read that Ponte, Parione and Regola are the eternal city's latest hot spots. These neighbourhoods are a hop, skip and a jump from Piazza Navona and their well-trodden cobblestone streets have always been the focus of tourist activity. While they're lovely, again, they're far from "hidden". Monti is much more fascinating, with its music school, funky boutiques, design stores, and laidback trattorias, while gritty San Lorenzo is the city's bohemian heart. But then the residents of Monti and San Lorenzo would probably argue their 'hoods have always been hip.

One traveller's 'latest discovery' is another's old favorite

Around five years ago the glossy travel mags started talking up Croatia as the next hot destination and travel journos were writing about the country as if it had only just been discovered. The Croatian National Tourism Board saturated the global media with their 'Mediterranean As It Once Was' campaign and everyone bought it. And bought tickets to Zagreb. We spent the summer there in 2003, travelling the length and breadth of the country. What we discovered was something very different to what was being marketed. Dubrovnik was one of the most divine cities we'd ever seen, the islands were beautiful, the myriad walled towns were atmospheric, and the nightlife was wild. However, Croatia was far from untouched. It was easily as crowded with tourists as Paris, Rome or Venice for that matter. Indeed, the Italians had been vacationing in Croatia for many years before it was 'discovered' by the English-speaking travel media. In 2005, Croatia had 10 million visitors. Still, in 2006 National Geographic Adventure magazine voted it destination of the year. It just goes to show that one person's latest, hottest destination is another person's old favorite. Nothing is new to anyone, it's just new again.

Life of a travel writer: loving the work

As much as I loved the dinners and parties in Istanbul, I have to admit though that the highlight for us was the work rather than the play. While some of the other press, including writers who'd flown all the way from New York for just a few days, seemed content to sleep in, enjoy the free spa treatments and meals, and kick back at the hotel, for us there were too many other fabulous opportunities in the city to ignore. Every day was jam-packed with interviews and shoots - with chefs, fashion designers and an oud craftsman - and squeezing in time to explore and photograph the less written about areas of Istanbul in between. After the W we shifted to another boutique hotel, Lush, closer to the action around Taksim and Beyoglu, and we pounded the pavement all day every day. It was hard work but we got to meet some incredibly fascinating people and not only got great material for the stories we were commissioned to write, but we were also able to gather content we can continue to use for many months to come. That's the life of a travel writer for me. And I love it!

Life of a travel writer: VIP openings, acrobatic waiters and private parties

Will you forgive me the silence? Perhaps when I tell you where I've been. If you followed the Lonely Planet author scandal you'd get the impression from Thomas Kohnstamm that fees are so low and travel writers so poor they have to deal drugs and scam meals to survive. Or if you read the blogs, comments and stories in response from other writers you'd think we all work 16 hour days, seven days a week (which we do), but that miserable fees force us to sleep on friends' couches when we travel and the closest we get to Michelin-starred restaurants is watching customers dine through the window while we make menu notes outside (which we certainly don't do!). If you work hard, network well, and line up a number of commissions for a trip, you can sleep in design hotels, dine of fine meals, and live a rather luxe life if you choose. Last Monday we flew to Istanbul to cover the opening of the new W hotel and Jean-Georges Vongerichten's Spice Market for two in-flights and two travel magazines, and write a guide to Istanbul for another travel mag. What followed was a whirlwind four days of work - and play! The W generously hosted us in a stunning room and fed us Jean-Georges' superb cuisine for two days. We went to an exclusive press dinner at Spice Market with a dozen other writers and W's fantastic global PR team. We sipped bubbly poured by an acrobat for a waiter who hung upside down from a chandelier of champagne bottles! And we boogied the night away (with Jean-Georges himself!) at the hotel's spectacular launch party, attended by Istanbul's jet set and hundreds of W VIPs around the globe. And it was fun. Especially being invited by Jean-Georges to his private after-party in the hotel's presidential suite with magical views of Istanbul!

Strange Planet (part 4) or How I learnt to stop worrying and love the Lonely Planet Loophole

by Terry Carter*
Oh yes, there's more... So far this Lonely Planet thing is a mess of contradictions and odd confessions. Surely the guy who photocopied and stapled together the first copies of a Lonely Planet guide by hand on his kitchen table will come to the rescue and sort out this nonsense once and for all. Cue Lonely Planet co-founder and travel industry legend, Tony Wheeler:

…accepting free car hire from a tourist office would not be "a major problem". "That doesn't disappoint me..."
Well, Tony, it disappoints me. And my bank manager. I still have the receipts for cars hired across several countries, for several Lonely Planet books, going back several years. Shall I send them care of the BBC, or directly to you? I hear you’re pretty flush these days. I’ll expect a nice little nought on the end of my bank balance next week. Enough about my out of pocket expenses, though, back to the oddly twisting scandal. So now even the co-founder of the cultish company is admitting that certain kinds of freebies aren’t a problem. Admittedly, free car hire is an obtuse example, especially if it’s organized by the tourism people, so it’s not that bad. The Lonely Planet is still on its orbit, it just wobbled a little. Still looks beautiful from space. Thanks for reading! And drive safely. Drive Avis. What? He says more about not accepting freebies?

“From my perspective this is an impossible standard to meet," he says.
You have to be kidding me. But you, Tony Wheeler, put that standard in place. Your perspective? You ran the company. What not change this to a goal that is achievable? Why not have a more nuanced policy? Why say this now? But could it get any worse than the co-founder of LP stating that he never expected his writers to refuse comps? For the love of Lonely Planet, please let it stop. But it doesn’t…

When asked whether Lonely Planet was betraying the trust of its readers by insisting it did not take freebies, he says curtly: "Well, that's what you'll have to say, won't you?"
Sweet Jesus. OK. I’ll run with that. I’m no newspaper editor, but I swear that my headline would have read something more insightful than ‘A guide delusion makes it Lonely at the top’. I don’t even understand what that means. I’m not sure it’s even English. Here’s a more accurate and revealing headline, if I do say so myself: LONELY PLANET CO-FOUNDER SAYS COMPANY BETRAYED READERS TRUST. ADMITS WRITERS ACCEPT 'FREEBIES'. Many people in the travel industry see Lonely Planet, its employees and fanatical fans as a kind of cult. I see their point now and I agree to a certain extent, but I never realised it was a doomsday cult. Not sure if I’d be drinking from the water coolers at Lonely Planet headquarters today. Just a thought…

* Terry is my husband, co-author and a photographer. We wrote and contributed to over 25 guidebooks and stacks of other content for Lonely Planet over four years. Take a read of part 1 and part 2 of this strange saga here.

Strange Planet (part 3) or How I learnt to stop worrying and love the Lonely Planet Loophole

By Terry Carter*
Hallelujah! On the weekend Peter Munro writing for The Age in Melbourne cleared up the whole Lonely Planet scandal. Thank god that’s over. Yes, we were getting bored with it too. But in the words of Lonely Planet publisher Piers Pickard: “No freebies — period.” Thank you and goodnight! What? Oh, wait, there is a caveat? Sorry, folks. Quotes from the story in italics below.

Peter Munro writes: Are there exceptions? He (Piers) pauses. He says Lonely Planet lets its authors accept free entry to state-run institutions such as museums or national parks.
Phew. Well that’s okay, journalists usually get media passes to these things anyway. We’ve always asked for them. Nothing to see here, move along. Thanks for reading! Oh no, now what?

Prodded further, he says the company also allows freebies when obtained through a tourist office. He says the wording of its policy will be tightened further in future books to close any perceived loophole. Readers, do you know what you can get through a tourist office as a travel writer working on a guide book to a city or country? Sometimes very little. A meeting with the tourism officials, with tea and biscuits and mind-numbing small talk. But most of the time you can get the whole trip paid for. In full. Flights, transfers, meals, hotels, car hire, and VIP treatment the whole way. That’s not a perceived loophole, that’s a free pass to writers such as the couple mentioned in the article who openly admit to taking freebies. But more on these miscreants later. Now back to Piers. Changing the text in the books to "close any perceived loophole" when you allow freebies obtained through a tourist office smells like three-day old fish at an outdoor market. It’s still not clear what the real policy is. And when Lonely Planet stakes its credibility on this, you’d better get it sorted out. But let’s cut Piers some slack. Perhaps he was just a little flustered because of all the media attention over the past couple of weeks. He’s probably as tired as Barack Obama and as nervous as Hillary Clinton. This might account for his weak attempt at spin:

The interest in the scandal is "because of the trust people have in Lonely Planet not because of distrust".
Nice try, but not quite accurate. The interest in the scandal for many is because your customers (your loyal readers) want to know whether they can still trust your books or not. You know, whether you really are the only ‘cleanskin’ guide publisher, who doesn’t accept freebies and visits every establishment. Once again, Lonely Planet has staked its reputation on this, and, as former global publisher Richard Everist puts it in the story, it positions itself as, "being on the side of the angels". You’re the good guys. With integrity and moral fortitude. But there are others, especially in the travel writing industry, who are interested in seeing Lonely Planet get taken down a notch. Including many other publishers who feel that Lonely Planet had been setting themselves up for this by stating the policy in the first place, not paying authors enough to fulfil the promise, or hiring authors who really take advantage of the ‘perceived’ loophole. Astonishingly, the author Peter Munro finds one Lonely Planet author totally in agreement with everything in the paragraph I’ve just written:

New York-based writer Zora O'Neill, who has written guides for several publishers including Lonely Planet, says Lonely Planet uses its official no-freebies policy "to imply it's somehow better, cleaner, more righteous" than its rivals.
To implicitly validate that it’s not better, cleaner and more righteous than its rivals, Zora goes on to commit an act of author disembowelment and perhaps bids farewell to her relationship with Lonely Planet.

Freebies were a necessity "both in terms of dealing with the pay you get and getting to know a place". Lonely Planet author verification teams, once you’ve finished in South America following up Thomas’ tall tales, next stop Egypt. Zora is one of a group of authors who find the best way of “dealing with the pay” and “getting to know a place” is to accept the commission and wink at the loophole, instead of doing the right thing and refusing the commission. Author Paul Hellander is another one of the authors who enjoys the fruits of the loophole provided by Lonely Planet’s policy, but with a twist:

…Paul Hellander, who has worked for Lonely Planet since 1994 on about 35 titles, says flexibility still applies. He argues that while he has never sought a freebie on assignment, he is entitled to accept them regardless of Mr Pickard's protestations. "(The policy) certainly means I can receive a freebie without any real soul-searching because from my view I have not transgressed the line of exchanging content for service," he says. OK. So Lonely Planet has a policy with a ‘perceived’ loophole and Hellander takes guilt-free advantage of it. Lonely Planet says they’re tightening it and Hellander says he’s still ‘entitled’ and flexibility still applies. So, what’s changed? As long as authors with his attitude are still working for Lonely Planet, nothing’s changed.

He says in some countries, such as Greece, the refusal of a free meal or accommodation could offend locals. "If someone says, 'The meal is on me,' I say thank you and walk away," he says. "Lonely Planet would be fooling itself if it sincerely believed its authors had not received a gratuity at some stage."
But Paul, how does the restaurant or hotel know you’re from Lonely Planet? Lara and I have written the Greece chapters (twice) for several Lonely Planet European guidebooks and we've never had a restaurant owner in Greece just randomly give us free meals. And we’ve eaten at many of the restaurants that you’ve reviewed in your books. And we’ve done it while working for Lonely Planet. Here’s a tip: Need to get the correct phone number, opening hours or ask if they’re closed in winter? Ask after you’ve paid the bill. If you end up having to tell them why you need these details and you show them your business card and they insist that the meal is on them, put the money on the table and walk away. We’ve never been chased off a Greek island for paying a bill while working for Lonely Planet and we’ve been in the same situations as you – and I’ve put money on the table and walked away. Plenty of times. I guess we just have a different idea of ‘entitlement’, the kind of entitlement where you show someone your business card, they offer you a freebie and this somehow ‘entitles’ you to accept. After all, you don’t want to offend anyone…

Even more far-fetched is Hellander’s claim that accepting free accommodation is equally a guilt-free practice. Firstly, Paul, you’re letting hoteliers in the industry think that Lonely Planet authors can be bought. (Although unfortunately this isn’t news.) And, yes, hoteliers talk about it to each other. And they don’t see Lonely Planet as any different than all the other guidebook companies. In fact, some see it as being the most cynical and duplicitous of all the guidebook companies. Secondly, it makes it awkward for the next author who can’t be bought while on assignment for Lonely Planet. But soul-searching clearly isn’t your strongest suit. I can probably guess why. There are several other Lonely Planet authors I could name who point to this loophole while accepting freebies for Lonely Planet, but if The Age story is any indicator they’ll probably end up confessing anyway, as if they’re members of some strange cult seeking absolution. Strange indeed.

* Terry is my husband, co-author and a photographer. We wrote and contributed to over 25 guidebooks and stacks of other content for Lonely Planet over four years. Take a read of part 1 and part 2 of this strange saga here.

Our latest travel writing: in print and online

After a busy period of writing (and web designing as well for Terry), it's wonderful to see our work in print and online. Take a look at Terry's photography website and let us know what you think. As he's just finished freshening it up, his home page is blooming with spring flowers. You can almost smell them! I picked them in the fragrant garden at our friends' villa in Kas, Turkey, where we recently spent a month. (Well I have to take credit for something...) Take a look here: www.terencecarterphotography.com. The May issue of Gulf Air's gorgeous in-flight magazine, Gulf Life, has a special feature on the 7 modern wonders of the Arab world, including our story Seeing the Light on Masdar, an extraordinary eco-project being undertaken by Abu Dhabi government, one element of which is a Norman Foster-designed eco-city which will be the world's first carbon-neutral, zero-waste community. I wouldn't mind a little apartment there! In the May issue of Jazeera Airways in-flight magazine J-Mag, look out for Beyond the Beach, my off-the-beaten-track guide to Cyprus, which should go up any day now. We've really stayed off the tourist trail this month. Terry also wrote for Viator on his Top 10 Off-the-beaten-path experiences in Dubai. There was lots more of course, but we'll let you know when they're in print. Pictured? My pic of spring flowers in Kas, and in the previous post also. They're not nearly as gorgeous as Terry's but I think they're pretty all the same.

Creating a ‘home’ away

Reminders of home are important to people no matter where they are, no more so than when they're 'away'. But they become especially precious to long term travellers like us who live out of their suitcases. When I was backpacking on my own in South America when I was younger, I carried a wooden incense holder and incense with me that I’d brought from Australia, and I’d light it wherever I stayed. The scent of sandalwood would take me back to our flat in Sydney where Terry was still living and working, and remind me of him and our home. But it also made a characterless hotel room cosy. Terry and I do the same thing now when we travel, light incense in hotel rooms wherever we go. Only now the scent reminds us of the frankincense we’d use in the apartment we packed up over two years ago in Dubai. This is the start of our 29th month on the road writing, and we're starting to miss having a home. Months at a time have been spent researching countries, regions, islands, and cities where we’ve had to move hotels every day or two to test them out for the guidebooks we're writing, and simply to cover the territory we needed to. We spent January, February and part of March researching books in the UAE, Cyprus and Crete, so we were relieved to stay at a friend’s villa for a month in Turkey. We bought a tonne of groceries and the first thing we did when we arrived was unpack and put everything away and set the kitchen up the way we like it. We planned to do a lot of cooking and we did. We shifted furniture around, lit our incense, scattered travel magazines about, put novels on our bedside tables, and picked flowers from the garden. Do you like them? I delighted in doing little things that I used to do at home. Like being able to arrange my toiletries in the bathroom. Don't laugh. We even adopted some neighbourhood cats, bought them food, and fed them daily. But just because we’re missing having a ‘home’ doesn’t mean we want to stop travelling. On the contrary, we’re currently planning our next research trip to Italy and we're already getting excited at the prospect of being on the road again. It’s just that we appreciate being able to create a 'home' whenever we can. For the first time in my life, I can understand why some people get homesick when they travel. Although for me any feelings of melancholia or nostalgia I might have occasionally aren't strong enough to give up travelling. After all, giving up travelling is unnecessary when we can create a 'home' – however temporary – wherever we are.

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.

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.

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.

Top secrets of travel writers: #2 the art of parachute artistry

Lonely Planet founder Tony Wheeler said in a 2005 New Yorker story ''The Parachute Artist': "To research a big guidebook, you need some people who live in the country, but you also need some parachute artists, someone who can drop into a place and quickly assimilate, who can write about anywhere.” The skills and tricks of a parachute artist are one of the secrets of travel writing. In much of the Thomas Kohnstamm media coverage, online reader comments and discussions on travels forums, travel writers were criticized for not living or staying long enough in a destination they're researching. Because few people recognize or appreciate the art of parachute artistry. So how do travel writers quickly assimilate to a city? And how can you do so too?
1) visit the tourist office: don't just leave with a map and bundle of brochures and let the staff get away with circling "we are here" on your map. Interrogate them. Ask what's new, what's not in the brochures, what's recently opened in the way of sights, museums, galleries, shops, restaurants, cafes, bars, whatever it is that interests you, then press them for their preferences. Also ask where the interesting neighborhoods are, where locals go out, hang out, shop etc.
2) consult local experts: when you eat somewhere you like, ask the manager, waiter or chef for places similar to where you're eating at and where they eat on their night off; ask the sommelier where he/she likes to drink and eat, where there's a nice little wine bar specializing in local wines; if you like a bar, find out where the bartenders drink after closing; art gallery managers can suggest other galleries; music store staff can tell you where they see live bands; fashion boutique sales staff can direct you to hip areas to shop; hairdressers can recommend the best dance clubs.
3) talk to locals: if you're at a museum, gallery, restaurant, cafe or bar you like, strike up a conversation with locals and ask them where they like to go to see similar shows, eat, drink, hang out, shop, etc. Ask local surfers for the best beaches or people walking in a park for tips on other places to stroll. Don't ask them where they think you should go, but where they like to go. Big difference. Ask people where they think you should go and they'll often name the usual tourist traps, even if they haven't been themselves.
4) 5-star hotel concierges: whether you're staying at the hotel or not, there's nothing stopping you from going to chat to the concierges and get some tips. A 5-star concierge always knows the best restaurants, bars and shops, what's showing at museums and theatres, where to get tickets and the best times to go. Their guests may be discerning but don't think their tips will always be out of your price range if you're on a budget. Not all rich people enjoy throwing their money around, but they tend to expect quality and good-value, whether it's a cheap ethnic eat or a Michelin-starred place.
5) read local publications: buy a local newspaper or magazine from a news stand and pick up those free entertainment, music and clubbing papers, leaflets and postcards, that you often find on the floor in music stores and boutiques. If you're in a city for a while head to a bookstore and look for locally-written guidebooks that you won't find outside the country. For instance, whenever we go to Bangkok we immediately buy the excellent Chic Restaurants and Bars Bangkok book written by local food critics.
So, are you ready to jump? And how do you quickly acquaint yourself with a new place?

Top 10 dream tours

I'm not a fan of guided tours as you know, although if I was forced to do a tour and I was free to select my own guide and devise my own itinerary, then that's another thing. An engaging expert, some alluring destinations... so here are my top 10 dream tours:
10) a global surfing safari to the world's best kept secret beaches with Kelly Slater (well, Terry will surf, I'm going to bum around the beach and pretend I'm 16 again)
9) an eclectic musical journey through South America with David Byrne
8) walkabout in outback Western Australia with indigenous guide Darren 'Capes' Capewell
7) a fast-forward trip to the Dubai of the future with the city-emirate's visionary ruler Sheikh Mohammed
6) a political study tour-cum-road trip through the Middle East in an old Mercedes with Robert Fisk
5) a tour of fashion capital Antwerp and its funky ateliers with wild Antwerp Six designer Walter Van Beirendonck
4) a tour to the Asian and Argentine movie locations of Wong Kar Wai's films guided by the filmmaker
3) a cruise down the Seine in style with Paul Weller, with Style Council's Cafe Bleu as background music naturally
2) a melodramatic journey through Spain with filmmaker Pedro Almodovar, beginning and ending in Madrid
and, lastly, my ultimate dream tour would have to be
1) a round-the-world-in-80-meals tour with chef Anthony Bourdain, including plenty of opportunities to dine barefoot on beaches within splashing distance of the sea.
So, what's your idea of an ultimate dream tour?

Top 5 indigenous cultural tours in Western Australia

Some of the best guided walks I've ever done have been with Australian guides. The Aussie guides tend to be obsessive when it comes to developing specialist knowledge, which they intersperse with fascinating facts and trivia and sprinkle it with humor. They're often self-effacing and nearly always gregarious and easy-going. And the Australian guides I've done walks with have had a special connection to the place they're introducing visitors to. No more so than Australia's Aboriginal guides. Here's my pick of Western Australia's best indigenous Australian cultural tours:
1) On Wula Guda Nyinda tours, at Monkey Mia in the Shark Bay World Heritage area, Darren 'Capes' Capewell (pictured) teaches you 'how to let the bush talk to you', tracking, bush tucker, bush medicine, and bush survival skills, along with some basics in the local Mulgana language.
2) Kujurta Buru tours, in the far north-west at Broome, take groups wading through the mangroves of azure-coloured Roebuck Bay to learn the art of fishing the traditional way, hunting in the local area with traditional implements, and essential bush survival techniques.
3) Yamatji Cultural Trails, on the central coast at Geraldton, take groups on overnight walks to important indigenous sites. There you get to camp out under the stars and gather around the campfire to learn about the history of the traditional owners of the land and discuss issues of contemporary significance to indigenous people.
4) At Kodja Place Interpretive Centre, at Kojonup in WA’s south, an elder from the Nyoongar tribe teaches visitors some of his people's traditional practices then sits them down around a fire and tells magical stories from the Dreaming over cups of good old-fashioned Aussie billy tea.
5) At Yanchep National Park, not far from Perth, the local Nyoongar people performance traditional dances and give didgeridoo lessons to travellers.
For more information on indigenous cultural tourism take a look at the website of WAITOC, the Western Australian Indigenous Tour Operators Committee.

Guides: a model guide from the Mulgana mob at Monkey Mia

For all my criticism of guides, there have been a few that have impressed us, and there has been one that changed our lives. Darren ‘Capes’ Capewell, an indigenous Australian from the Mulgana tribe, runs cultural walks through the bushland and along the shores of Monkey Mia in the Shark Bay World Heritage area on the north-west coast of Western Australia. Capes' father is from the Mulgana mob (tribe) and his mother from the Nardi mob, so he’s an expert on aboriginal country. We did a couple of walks with Capes while researching our Lonely Planet Perth and Western Australia guidebook. His walks are called ‘Wula Guda Nyinda’, which means ‘you come this way’, and after telling us that we were Mulgana mob for the day, he said: “Take soft steps. Today you’re going to learn how to respect country.” And he had us from that moment. After a few hours of stepping softly through the sandy scrub-land we learnt that what appeared to be arid country was in fact a "bush supermarket" and that the vegetation was a smorgasbord. Capes broke twigs from branches and picked berries from trees and we learnt to identify and taste bush tucker. We learnt how to find water and how to create it if we couldn't. We learnt that the supermarket was also a pharmacy. A plant Capes called ‘pigface’ could be applied to skin to soothe sunburn, and coastal myrtle, like Vic’s Vapour Rub, could be rubbed under the nose if you had a cold. So while we were 'shopping' and food-tasting, we were also learning valuable survival skills. Capes taught us "how to let the bush talk to you” by listening to the birdsong and rustles in the grass. We learnt how to identify animals by their tracks in the sand and how to tell the size of a kangaroo by the size of his poo! And along the way Capes taught us some of the Mulgana language. Keen for more, we joined Capes for a second walk to an aboriginal campsite where he told us dreamtime stories under the stars. As Terry said the next day "We walked a few kilometres in just a few hours yet we dipped our toes into thousands of years of Aboriginal knowledge of the land." We learnt about bush tucker, medicine and survival, but most of all we experienced firsthand that special connection indigenous Australians have to the land, to country. To me, it's the ability to share that special connection that makes a guide great and a walk or tour a memorable, if not life-changing, experience.

Guides: how to pick them

If you must hire a guide (well, you know how I feel about guides), whether it's simply to show you around a city you're a first-time visitor to, escort you on a day-trip, or lead you on a longer trek or journey, here are a few tips:
1) do your research: start with the guide, agency or tour company's website. Are the services, options and prices described? Is there a bio? Are there testimonials? Compare the offerings with that of other guides and companies.
2) go with a recommended guide: nothing beats a recommendation based on first-hand experience. Read testimonials - and read between the lines. Google the guide's name. Consult traveller forums.
3) opt for a specialist: look at the guide's bio. Does the guide have relevant qualifications, skills, experience? If you're looking at art, architecture or archaeological sites you want an archaeologist, artist, teacher, curator, gallery owner, architect, or masters or PhD student. Not just someone who has an interest. If you're doing a cooking or wine course, opt for a chef, caterer, sommelier or wine-maker over a foodie or wine-lover. If it's a bush-walk or trek, has the guide had years of experience in the area and survival and first-aid skills? Are language skills required?
4) go for a local: was the guide born in the place, was his/her family/tribe from the area, or is the guide a long-term resident? You want someone with a connection to the place and is passionate about the destination. For me, the guide's first-hand experience, personal insight, and opinions and feelings can really make the experience special.
5) look for imagination: are any itineraries for walks, day-trips and excursions offered well thought-out, themed and focused? Has some creativity gone into their creation? Are they inspired and unique? If they're the same as other offerings and just like the one in your guidebook, give it a miss. You want to have a reason to pay for something that you could otherwise manage yourself.
6) consider the fee: remember, cheaper isn't necessarily better (you get what you pay for) while expensive doesn't necessarily mean 'best' (some guides over-charge because they know some travellers won't quibble over the price). Look for guides who charge a fee that seems fair for what's offered.
7) meet the guide beforehand: this isn't always possible, but try to meet before you agree to use the guide's services. You want someone who has personality, confidence, social skills, and can communicate well. Does the guide speak your language as well as you'd like? Does the person listen to what you want rather than simply telling you what they think you should do? Does the guide seem like a genuinely nice person? Is this someone you want to spend a day (or longer) with?
A guide can make or break an experience of a place, so make sure you choose well.

Good guides, bad guides: the good guides

While most of our experiences with guides have been terrible (see my last post), we've had a few great guides who've restored our faith in the human guide (sorry!). One worked for the same tour company our socially inept hill tribe guide did (last post again), but this guy was affable, full of energy, obviously loved his job, and his enthusiasm was infectious. His English wasn't great and we didn't leave his biking tour of local market towns feeling enlightened. But we did pick up a few interesting tidbits, got to try some tasty food, and his social skills and good relationships with the market stall-holders meant we were well-received wherever we went. And we had fun. As we were reviewing a few Four Seasons properties as part of our Thailand research (and paying media rates, I might add), we did the activities available to all guests, including a tour taking in the Mekong River, a local village, market and temple from the Four Seasons Golden Triangle Tented Camp, and in preparation for a Thai cooking course, a trip to the market from the Four Seasons Chiang Mai. Both guides were brilliant, which says a lot about training. They were friendly, charming, knowledgeable, smart, and sociable, and once again, had excellent relationships with the locals, opening doors for us in so many ways. Our first guide went in for the touristic experiences a tad too much for our liking, setting up cheesy photo ops, including an uncomfortable performance by a group of local kids in colorful costumes in front of a Mekong River vista, and - worse - corny ops where she could point the camera at us. She did this with such sweetness of spirit and charm, and with such good intentions - most people would love these souvenirs we imagined - that we forgave her. We also came away learning something about the local cuisine, culture and spirituality of the people. The Chiang Mai guide was even better, with a deeper knowledge of ingredients, dishes and eating habits of the locals, and she even revealed a few secrets we'd always been curious about. As our trip was partly in preparation for a cooking course, it was also knowledge that would soon be put to use. Better again. Although we couldn't help but feel we might have enjoyed the tour even more had it have been led by a chef or culinary expert. Still, we got to try lots more tasty stuff, and you can't go wrong with that.