Melbourne’s Tram Restaurant
Posted October 17, 2009 , comments closedIt’s a cold late-winter Tuesday in Melbourne and I’m standing on a tramstop under the glare of the Casino’s neon. A brown shelter keeps the rain off but not the bitter wind out. Trams rattle past ferrying commuters home from work. A crowd builds. Then, out of the fading light comes a glow of soft light. It’s here: Melbourne’s Colonial Tramcar Restaurant.
It’s an old W-class tram, painted burgundy (not the traditional green) and festooned with lights around the door, like the mirror of a faded star. It glides to a stop in front of us.
Remembrance of trams past
Let me tell you right now that I am a born and bred Melbourne girl. I grew up with trams. I caught a clanky, jerking W-class tram to and from school everyday. And along with a lot of others, I’ve watched sadly as Melbourne experiments with different shapes and sizes of more modern, smoother, big trams. The boxy shape of the W-class is the one in photos, on keyrings and T-shirts. It’s beloved of locals and tourists alike. No smooth, heated, modern ride can take its place in our hearts.
Melbourne’s restaurant trams about to pick us up for dinner
And don’t even get me started on the days when trams had conductors; I might cry a gentle tear in memory of the guy we called Frenchie: balding, grinning, accented (almost certainly not French but we were kids). He could twirl his hat around two fingers and always had a joke for the hoards of school kids besieging his tram. Then there was the conductor who overheard a gang of boys telling a racist joke: she pulled the emergency cord, delivered a lecture, and threw them out onto the street. Those were the days.
For a while, there was even a Painted Trams programme when prominent local artists decorated trams top to bottom. Moving art on the streets. Fabulous. Only in Melbourne would people say: ‘I caught the Jon Cattapan to work this morning.’ Or: ‘I crashed my car into the Mirka Mora – wrote it off but Mirka’s painting hardly had a scratch.’
Food on a tram? Quel moderne
But trams were never a place to eat. A chocolate bar perhaps. Cola and a meat pie on the way home from the football maybe. But sirloin steak? Wine? Unheard of. Until 1983 when the first Tramcar Restaurant hit the rails.
Now there are three trams with kitchens trundling around Melbourne, three times a day: lunch; early dinner (pre-theatre), and a later, longer dinner. Visitors to Melbourne flock to it – see the sights while having a meal and a glass of champagne? Genius. It’s taking the locals a little longer to catch on.
In Melbourne to visit my family, I had to work hard to persuade my sisters to consider the idea. My friends flatly refused: it’s just not the done thing as a city resident; trams are for getting from A to B, not ridden for pleasure but only out of necessity. Big mistake.
Finally, with sisters in tow…
My sisters and I huddled in our coats on windy Tramstop #125 as two restaurant trams came into view. The maitre d’ helped us board: the step up is quite steep (it’s even harder stepping down full of food and wine, trust me), showed us to our table and poured the champagne.
The interior is rich and gold. Little lamps, tasselled curtains, white table clothes and shiny silverware; a far cry from the trip to school.
Inside the tram restaurant, looking out over the Yarra River
But the thing that made us happiest was the couple seated across the aisle from our table of four. We’d noticed them at the stop: he was perfect in his suit, she had on a flippy little cocktail dress in white. Immediately we decided tonight was the night: he was going to propose. And now we were seated in prime position to hear her answer. We sipped our champagne and prepared for the romance to unfold.
We were doing the early sitting of dinner so the menu was three courses: bread and dips appetisers, steak or chicken main, white chocolate and passionfruit mousse or sticky date pudding dessert. Not hugely adventurous but they’re cooking on a tram so that’s forgiven. (The later dinner is five courses, lunch is four.)
Smooth as silk, tram-jam free
Having learnt early in life how to stand without falling over as a W-class tram bucked and braked, we were all stunned by how smooth the ride was. I know they have equipped the trams with extra suspension but they’ve also apparently recruited the most talented drivers. In fact a friend of mine confessed that when she was driving trams, she applied several times to drive the restaurant and was deemed ‘not smooth enough’.
Inside the tram restaurant
The other strong memory of standard tram travel is tram jams – getting stuck in a line of trams caught by peak hour traffic or a car turning right. The restaurant tram is carefully routed so it avoids the worst snarls, travelling mainly down roads with a designated tram lane, and seems to have been timetabled to not have to stop constantly behind the normal commuter vehicles. I have almost no memory of us stopping – except for traffic lights, or to turn around. And we departed and arrived on the minute scheduled – now, why can’t they run the whole public transport system this well?
Our route began by heading past the Casino across the Yarra River to the edge of the city. As day faded into evening, we saw the city lights twinkle, bridges and boats. Then we turned around and headed through one of Melbourne’s oldest suburbs, South Melbourne, with its grand old Victorian terrace houses and a pub on every corner.
Turning around is one of the tricks of the tram restaurant. Melbourne trams can be driven from either end. While trams around Europe swing around a huge looping track to go back the other way, their driver staying put in his chair, Melbourne trams stop in the middle of the road, the driver leaps out carrying his driving handle, runs the length of the tram, hops in the cabin at the other end, and starts driving back the way they came. What this means for diners on the restaurant tram is that it doesn’t matter which side of the table you sit – half the time you’re facing forward, and half the time you’re looking at where you’ve just been.
The food? Mostly delicious
The pate and dip for appetisers were delicious, and the champagne slipped down very well as we sat warmly behind one-way glass watching the less cosseted struggle home in the wind. Our orders were taken and the main course arrived quickly. Clearly most of the food is pre-prepared and just heated for serving on the tram. I had a vegetarian meal which was alright but nothing special, my sister-in-law had chicken which she said was a little tough, but both my sisters had steak and said it was absolutely delicious. The menu is limited and I think the trick is to choose what needs to be cooked on the spot, like steak. They were also really impressed by the local wines included in the price.
By now we were heading through St Kilda, Melbourne’s historic and quirky seaside suburb. It was dark and lights twinkled on the water of Port Phillip Bay while closer at hand people hurried to restaurants and cake shops in famous Acland Street. We stopped, the driver ran past the window, and we headed back, past theatres, and the laughing mouth of Luna Park, towards the city.
Dessert came quickly – the first dinner sitting runs to a fairly tight schedule – and the sticky date pudding was delicious. Perfect for a stormy night. My sister said the chocolate mousse could have been better. Then coffee and tea – urn not espresso machine - and yummy chocolates and liqueurs, also included in the price. They even had my favourite: Frangelico. Very happy.
Back home and pleasantly surprised
When the meal was finished, the waiter came and gave us each a flower to take home – a nice touch. Except it was a carnation: Australia has great native flowers and one of those might have been more interesting. Although, Australian flora can be a little too interesting: big, spiky, spooky. I can sort of see why they chose the carnations.
Off the tram and back on Tramstop #125, we looked at each other in surprise. It was like we’d been transported to a different world. On the tram, we’d been warm, eaten well, drunk richly, watched the world go by; now we were back in it. I could have stayed on the tram another few hours. Perhaps even remained for breakfast.
And as to the couple opposite… Well, just before dessert came, he pulled out a small wrapped box and gave it to her. She blushed and he waited. She opened it. Kissed him. We got ready to congratulate. Until we saw that it was earrings. And that she was already wearing a wedding ring. And so, thankfully, was he.
Only a birthday then. Oh well. But hey, I still got to drink champagne on a tram: never did that going to school!
-Philippa Burne
Planning a trip? Browse Viator’s Melbourne tours & things to do in Melbourne, including the Colonial Tram Restaurant. You can also read reviews of the Melbourne tram restaurant and browse photos of the Melbourne tram restaurant over on the Viator site.
I Expected Desert – Busride from Manali to Leh, India
Posted , comments closedI Expected Desert – Busride from Manali to Leh, India
I was as prepared for the journey from Manali to Leh, India, as my parents were for my birth. When I was born, they hadn’t had a baby shower, my mom hadn’t had Lamaze classes, and my dad was intoxicated from a Christmas party.
As I entered the jeep at two o’clock in the morning in sandals, see-through emerald Aladdin pants, and an onyx tank-top, the man who took my luggage said the seventeen-hour drive to Leh would probably be cold. I told him not to worry, I had the skin of the Hulk, and I’d manage.
If the man had just said the word “Snow,” I might have prepared myself as if I were climbing Mount Everest. However, I slipped off my sandals and fell asleep in the front seat of the jeep as content as Barbie.
I awoke three hours later to snowflakes ambushing my feet like the Japanese bombarded Pearl Harbor. I thought Leh was surrounded by desert. My uncovered toes resembled eggplants. Replacing my sandals was as productive as sleeping in a one-on-one meeting, which I have done.
I reconnaissanced the range and resolved that the driver’s window was open because he was using it to see the road. Solidified snow and withered windshield wipers obstructed his vision as effectively as a lion lying across the hood of the car.
In the seats behind me, two Aussies adorned in five layers of clothing were shivering like three-year-old baboons bathing in glacier water. The Brit’s lips were grapes and his body was as immovable as London. All I could detect of the two French was the blanket they had over their heads. The Israelis were incapable of speech but repeatedly paraded their fingers from a Nutella jar to their tongues.
The Traveler Jeep had no four-wheel-drive and our driver had no chains.
By leering through my window, the driver’s open window, and the frostbitten windshield, I gleaned that three feet of snow screened the road, we were one jeep in a caravan of four, and sheer cliffs surrounded us. To my left was an extreme incline and three feet from the right side of the road was the edge. I couldn’t conceive the ground. Apparently the driver was under the impression that proceeding through the Abominable Snowman’s land without any blizzard apparatus for vehicles was a good idea.
When he halted between two wooden shacks our driver departed without instruction. Anchored to our seats, we regarded each other with bewilderment paralleling my first experience with a banana.
As we emerged from our igloo, my feet submerged in snow like Britney Spears’ self-esteem after she shaved her head and attacked a paparazzo with an umbrella.
I scuttled with my fellow frozen sufferers to the nearest doorway and catapulted myself onto the nearest bench with the lithe of one who accidentally triggered a tyrannosaurus tranquilizer into their trachea. We were in a home that ostensibly converted into a restaurant during the day. Beds at night became seats in the day.
”Hypothermia,” the Brit moaned with tears in his eyes as he sat down, sounding more like a woman in labor than a trim twenty-two-year-old.
”Frostbite,” I replied as I felt feces festering.
When I requested a toilet location, I was told “Open.”
”Open” indicates that there is none. “Open” embodies wilderness. “Open” means you’re shit out of luck.
As I contemplated whether I could prolong the inevitable excrement another four hours when I surmised our next stop might be, one of the Israelis entered with a smile and a pair of yak wool socks in his hand.
Without words, the Aussies and I dashed out the door, through the snow, and across the street to the only other shelter in eyesight. The Brit hobbled in and railed rupees at the proprietor as we completed our purchases. He didn’t speak. I put on the socks with Michael Phelps speed and we clumped back to our chai.
Forty-five minutes later we still hadn’t seen our driver. He had been spurring through snow and reeling roads for ten hours. We concluded he must be sleeping. After four rounds of chai and an hour and a half he reappeared like the grim reaper. He nodded towards the jeep and trudged off.
As the Aussies, French, Israelis, and Brit filed past me the excrement congregated in my body, threatening to blaze like the Big Bang. I bound behind the building to find sheets of snow and no barriers to bend behind. Panicking like a schitzo as my anus leaked liquid waste, I lowered my loose, transparent Aladdin pants and perched near a concrete step.
Poop projected from my ass with the force of a sperm whale’s ejaculation. I couldn’t cease the deluge any more than I could speak Mandarin, interpret Arabic, and dream in Japanese simultaneously. I sighed with the contentment I would convey should I scrutinize a hot air balloon in the shape of a penis. I looked around for toilet paper. I distinguished with dismay that I was on the back deck of the house. There was snow and a leaf stack, and my hippopotamus-sized stool sat three steps from the backdoor. The jeep’s honk honed in my ears. I launched some leaves over my discharge, stoned some snow into my posterior, and duck-waddled to the jeep, my socked feet shoved into my sandals and cold creeping through my bottom.
Ten minutes later I observed discoloration on my right pant leg. I had excreta on my pants and sandals, melted snow in my underwear, and wore a tank-top in a snowstorm.
Our caravan continued with the persistence of telemarketers. The two-wheel-drive Traveler Jeeps persevered through the three-foot snow until they slid from the road like vehicles on ice skates. Once the glide generated, the automobile reversed until the wheels wedded with the snow-covered concrete cleared minutes before. The three vehicles trailing reversed in a four-car retreat that resembled ducks doddering backwards.
One man materialized like Harry Potter and with a Neanderthal shovel, spaded the snow from the path until the jeep found a foothold. The jeep drove for six feet before spilling from the street again. Harry Potter would reappear, shovel and disappear, only to manifest five minutes later. His shovel doubled the prized possession of a caveman and looked like the metal had been fastened to the wooden shaft with string. In two hours we progressed two hundred meters. The Indians were apparently under the impression that a bulldozer and chains were unnecessary. Our passage over the 16,020 foot Baralacha Pass made as much sense as Sylvester Stallone naming his son Sage Moonblood.
Although my sheer pants provided as much warmth as an icicle, I adjudicated that as I wasn’t afflicted with explosive diarrhea or barking bloody feces, I was as happy as an orphan adopted by Oprah Winfrey. The other passengers didn’t share my enthusiasm.
The French remained immersed in their blanket, the Brit was reduced to an infantile state, and the Aussies were so assured of our impending death that one of them deemed it logical to smoke a joint in the snow to tranquilize himself into a soothed state. Instead, as we skidded over the snow towards the edge of the cliff, he assumed the cracked character of one with Paranoid Personality Disorder.
When our driver desisted driving at eight o’clock at night, I asked what was happening. Earlier, while we had sat like perplexed dung beetles, he had exited the vehicle for twenty minutes to have a conversation and for ten minutes to relieve himself. He replied that we were staying the night at the surrounding tent community.
”Excuse me, but can we please get our bags down from the roof? A few of us have sleeping bags,” the French female requested.
”Ya, I actually have a shirt with sleeves in my bag,” I said.
”No, bags stay on roof,” he said and then stalked off like Hitler.
The Brit cried.
We crept into what looked like a circus tent to discover a stove and sleeping areas.
“Blanket,” the Brit said and thrust money at the owner. He burrito-wrapped himself and then pronounced, “Chai,” between shivering lips. The rest of us relapsed in conversation while he curled into the fetal position.
The next day the snow shifted to desert and our progression was impeded by road blockades and detours instead of arctic conditions more suitable for polar bears than Westerners. Our journey, originally supposed to last seventeen hours, endured for thirty-two. We later learned that the pass closed as we were on it.
Cheap Southeast Asia: How to Pretend You’re Rich in Bangkok
Posted , comments closedCheap Southeast Asia: How to Pretend You’re Rich in Bangkok
Bangkok is ‘fake it’ central. It’s a city where pretending you’re something you’re not has become a way of life. Everywhere you go, you’ll see fake designer purses, watches, shoes, suits; you name it, and Bangkok has it in all the colors.
So what better way to spend a day in Bangkok than to pretend you’re rich? If you do it right, it’s totally affordable, and fun.
Tip: Don’t forget to bring a change of outfit – rich people never wear the same clothes all day.
There are so many ways to do it, but we’ve put together a sample ‘Fake it Til You Make it’ day in Bangkok:
Start on Khao San Road
This is the place to buy your designer dress or jacket, your essential overly large sunglasses, and your chunky jewelry, chic hats, and ritzy belts. You can get top-notch designer knock-offs here for cheap, cheap, cheap.
Tip: always start bargaining at 50 percent or less of the quoted price. Just because you’re pretending to be rich doesn’t mean you have to pay more!
Taxi downtown: No rich person would ever be seen on a bus or in a tuktuk. Taxis are cheap (just remember to insist on a meter!), and the air-conditioning is essential to keep you looking fresh and at your best.
Tip: Don’t bother taking the highway – you’ll have to pay a toll and it’s far more scenic to take the long route. Besides, you’re not in any hurry.
Get designer shopping bags at Central World
You will be shocked by what a difference it makes to carry designer shopping bags around. Everyone treats you with more respect if they see D&G or some other posh name on your bag. Just pop in to the fanciest-looking shops and ask for a bag.
The stiff ones are best because it’s easy to disguise their lack of content. If the shop attendant asks what it’s for, them him or her that you’re doing a photo shoot, or something equally glamorous.
Tip: Now that you’ve got these bags, you’re far more likely to be accosted by beggars and street vendors who will see dollar signs in your eyes. If you can swing it, 10 baht (about 30 US cents) can be a huge help for that woman and her small children looking up at you with those big, sad eyes.
Make your way to the Siam Center’s Gourmet Market via the Skywalk
Here you will be able to dine on gourmet foods for not much more than you’d pay on the street. The place is full of rich-looking cakes and pastries, as well as healthier fare, including salads and gigantic sandwiches.
You’ll definitely find something to suit your taste, and you’ll feel so much more posh in the ritzy air-conditioned indoor market than you would getting pad thai from a street-side stand for about the same price.
Suggestion: spring rolls for 50 baht (about US$1.50) and tapioca pudding for 40 baht (about US$1.20).
Tip: Snack on an appetizer of free samples, which are everywhere here.
Rolexes and Guess bags at MBK
MBK is a massive shopping complex that is the place to get your fake designer handbags and watches. It’s 8 stories filled with over 2,500 different shops, many of them specializing in electronics, but there are also plenty that specialize in fashion knock-offs.
The rip-offs are among the most realistic this writer has seen in this side of the world (Hong Kong included). It’s like Khao San Road on steroids.
Cruise through the stores and take note of your favorite things before you make your purchase, because you may find a better and cheaper version in the store next door.
Tip: Take note of where you enter. It’s easy to get lost in MBK.
Stroll through Vimanek Mansion
It’s far cheaper than a visit to the Grande Palace (100 baht (about US$3) compared to 350 baht), and just as nice. See how the rich kings lived as you tour through their palace rooms.
A guided English tour is included in the price. Check out the gorgeous gold and mother-of-pearl meditation chair used by very posh monks (unfortunately, you won’t be able to sit in it).
Tip: Remember to bring something to cover your shoulders and wear knee-length slacks or skirts.
Get a street-side massage
You must be tired: Why not relax how the rich do? Get a street-side massage for 200 baht (about US$6). Let the Thai masseuses work their magic on your aching muscles. After your long and strenuous outing, it will feel particularly divine.
Tip: Avoid the ritzy-looking tourist-trap places, and head for an outdoor massage station. The massage will be just as nice (if not better), and everyone who walks by will see you getting pampered, thereby adding to your upper-class credibility.
Enjoy some wine
Some vino? Now you really get to experience rich life. Looking your finest, stroll through the gates of the ritzy boutique hotel Ma Du Zi around 5:30 for their after-work wine promotion.
Pay 650 baht (about US$20) and get as many wine refills as you like until 8:30pm. Ladies get a free canapé. The place is tricky to find, but if you head to Asoke Sky Train station, and ask around, you’ll be sure to be pointed in the right direction.
Tip: But be careful with how much wine you consume; it’s not classy to get too drunk.
Pretend you’re a celebrity at Skybar
This famous Bangkok lounge is a favourite hang-out of the ultra high class and celebrities. Not only that, but at 60 floors up, it offers an impeccable view of the entire city.
It’s almost worth the 450 baht (about US$15) you’ll have to pay for the cocktail. But if the view isn’t enough, rubbing elbows with high society will definitely give you a taste of how the other side live.
Tip: Enjoy the free pre-peeled pistachios – the bowl will be refilled when you get to the bottom.
Of course, it’s all in the attitude. Walk around like you’re worth it, and people will think it’s true. So, what are you waiting for? Go see how the other side live.
All photos courtesy of Kaila Krayewski, except MBK, by maistora on Flickr
15 of the Best Expat Blogs
Posted , comments closed15 of the Best Expat Blogs
Of all the entertaining varieties of travel blogs out there, there’s one category that sets itself apart in a way that I find most appealing – and that’s the expat blog. I’m a wannabe expat myself, so clearly that’s part of the draw for me, but I also think the way an expat approaches blogging is inherently different from any other travel blogger. In fact, many of them wouldn’t even consider themselves travel bloggers, and there’s a good reason for that.
It’s because they’re not.
Being an expat blogger can mean writing about cultural observations about one’s chosen home, or about the new cafe or shop or museum one discovers in the getting-to-know-you phase of living in a different place. But once you’re settled in, it can be hard to continue to look at where you live as a traveler might. Which is why so many expat blogs are one part travel guide, one part cultural anthropology class, and one part “what I had for breakfast” blog.
Obviously, with this kind of ingredient list it takes a good writer (or photographer) to keep things interesting. So in this article I want to highlight a few of what I think are the best expat blogs out there.
15 of the Best Expat Blogs (in No Particular Order)
Miss Expatria (Rome & Montpellier) – Christine Cantera, AKA Miss Expatria, is one of my favorite bloggers, period. She’s hysterically funny but also unfailingly charming with her enthusiasm for everything. She’s like a kid in the candy store of the world, and no matter where she is she’s in love with something enough to tell you about it. Reading her blog, you feel like you’re chatting with an old friend over coffee. Or wine. Or both.
David Lebovitz: Living the Sweet Life in Paris (Paris) – David’s a food writer who lives in Paris, so the blog is equal parts food porn and Parisian (sweet) life. His cultural observations are amusing as well as interesting, and a recent post about what he’d miss if he moved away from Paris was particularly enlightening. (His Twitter updates are immensely entertaining as well.)
Alexandre Gervais (Tokyo) – Alexandre Gervais’ self-titled blog is a showcase for his photography, and what beautiful photography it is. He’s from Montreal, and moved to Japan to learn Japanese – thankfully he’s also a top-notch photographer who enjoys sharing his surroundings with the rest of the world. The words are minimal on the site, but the pictures are huge; and, for photo-geeks, the technical details of each picture are provided, too.
Traveling Mama (Morocco) – Tina and her family are, technically speaking, in the middle of something of a round-the-world trip. It’s just that they’ve been in Morocco since early 2007 and her husband runs a language school there – so I think it’s probably more accurate to call them expats than travelers at the moment. Either way, the blog is beautiful (the fact that Tina’s husband is also a skilled photographer doesn’t hurt!) and the writing lovely.
Danish Accent (Portland) – One of the best things about an expat blog is the potential for seeing your own home country in a new way, so finding expat blogs in the United States is particularly fun – especially when that blogger lives part-time in your home city, too! Peter Fogtdal is an author who splits his time between Copenhagen in his native Denmark and Portland, Oregon, where he’s a literature and writing professor. His blog includes posts about his travels and cultural observations, as well as information about the books he’s written.
Still Life in South America (Buenos Aires) – As the about page of this blog states, it’s “part travel journal and part resource for fellow travelers,” which is a pretty good combination for an expat blog. It’s written by an American writer and English professor who moved to South America in early 2008 with her husband in order to learn Spanish, and they’ve lived in Buenos Aires since mid-2009. You may never know the name of “the writer,” but the writing is great, and the photos are plentiful.
Isoglossia (Slovenia & Bulgaria) – I’m oddly drawn to Isoglossia, despite it feeling like it’s more about things like potty-training and other child-rearing topics than about travel, because the author is bitingly funny. John is an American who recently moved his family from Slovenia to Sofia, Bulgaria, so it’s possible the new environs will inspire more travel-esque posts in the future. Even if that’s not the case, however, the site is worth stopping by for a good chuckle now and then (as is the Twitter feed). And any travel trivia freak will be happy to know just what an isogloss is.
Rome Photo Blog (Rome) – There’s no shortage of “daily photo blogs,” but I particularly like Jessica Stewart’s. She’s a talented photographer who has a knack for spotting things in her adopted city that you might miss if you were just passing through (she’s particularly fascinated by street art). Looking at her photos makes me look at my surroundings, wherever I am, in a new way – which is a great attitude to have whether you’re traveling or not.
Diary of a White Indian Housewife (Mumbai) – Sharell met the man of her dreams in a Kolkata nightclub while on leave from her job in Melbourne, and that changed her life forever. They got married and moved to Mumbai, where she is – as the blog title indicates – a “white Indian housewife” who writes about travel in India for About.com and about life in India on her blog. There are cultural observations, travel tips, and tidbits about daily life – and there are also lots of pictures.
Le Franco Phoney (La Clusaz) – As you can probably tell from the cute blog name, this blogger has a sense of humor. Australian April Hollands moved to the French Alps after two stints living in England in order to be closer to snow (she loves winter sports), and has been blogging since mid-2008. April’s a writer with a background in journalism, but don’t worry about getting overwhelmed by hard-hitting serious topics on her blog. You’ll find more in the way of funny observations about life in France on the blog than anything else, and that’s one of the things that makes it so delightful.
Touching Up My Roots (Croatia) – This blog is about one American family’s journey tracing ancestral roots in Mrkopalj, Croatia. The blog’s author, Jennifer, is the one with the Croatian family ties, but her husband and their two kids are along for the adventure, too. There’s evidently a book in the works, but you can follow along before publication on Jen’s Croatia blog – full of photos and colorful local personalities. And for fun, check out the kids’ blog, too.
From Russia With Love (Rostov-on-Don) – Eileen Emch is a missionary in “the largest city in southwest Russia,” Rostov-on-Don, and has lived there since 1999. She’s been blogging since 2006, and her blog is full of observations on both the local culture and what travel is like in the former Soviet Union. She’s an experienced and eager traveler (not to mention an eager blogger), and she takes lots of pictures.
Living in Egypt (Cairo) – As Maryanne Stroud Gabbani says on her website, “I have experienced Egypt myself as a tourist and then as someone living here on a day to day basis. I know the difference.” Maryanne’s been in Egypt since the 1980s, blogging since 2003, and she now leads horseback riding tours in Giza. Her perspectives as both a long-time local and yet still an outsider make for an interesting read.
Emilie Johnson (Paris) – There’s a nice mixture on this blog of travel tidbits and what Emilie’s daily life is like in Paris, plus she takes lovely photos. The cast of characters includes her French husband and his adorable daughter as well as her in-laws, so you get a feel for French family life in addition to expat life. Read up on Parisian life quickly, though, as it appears Emilie’s returning to New York (with her French family in tow) in early 2010. Let’s just hope she keeps blogging.
Ahoy, Hanoi! (Hanoi) – Although the author of this blog is starting to bounce around a bit location-wise, he’s still firmly outside his home country and pretty funny no matter where he is. Ben August had planned to spend six months in Hanoi, but then he met a girl – you know how that goes. He ended up staying for more than a year, and even returned after traveling for awhile. Ben’s got a great sense of humor, and posts lots of photos and video of his life in Vietnam and his travels throughout the region.
Finding Expat Bloggers
We’ve all heard how everyone has a blog these days, and sometimes that feels true – which is why I said this is only a list of some of the great expat blogs out there. There are, as you might expect, a kajillion (that’s a technical term) expat blogs, and a huge number of them are really interesting.
If you’re looking for more expat blogs, one handy place to look – especially if you’re looking for blogs in a specific location – is the Expat Blogs site. You can find blogs by country, and you can also find information about living in that country.
And if your favorite expat blog wasn’t included in this list above, please let us know what it is in the comments section below. We love finding out about new expats worth following.
About the Author
BootsnAll staff writer Jessica Spiegel is midway through the excessively long paperwork process involved in becoming a legal immigrant to Italy, and in the meantime she continues to write about Italy travel for BnA on WhyGo Italy. You can also find her on Twitter @italylogue.
photo by mangpages
Bizarre Germany: Odd Things To See & Do
Posted , comments closedSo you’ve ticked off the wall in Berlin, the Oktoberfest, the Rhine cruise and all manner of stunning castles and cathedrals? Well, you’ve only just scratched the surface of Germany – and the way to get the most out of the rest is to make things a little weirder. We’ve picked out eight of the most bizarre places to visit in Germany and they’re far from the usual suspects.
The Gasometer
Another stop along the Ruhr’s industrial heritage trail is this enormous gas cylinder in Oberhausen. It has been converted into one of the most bizarre – and striking – exhibition spaces you are ever likely to see. The current exhibition – lasting until at least March 2010 – is about the solar system. Inside, there are retrieved satellites, displays on the history of astronomy and some amazing space photography blown up in gigantic proportions.
Gasometer in Oberhausen
The highlights, however, are the ‘sun’ in the middle of the ground floor exhibition area and ‘The Largest Moon on Earth’. The latter is a sculpture dangling from the top of the Gasometer and has a diameter of 25m. It’s also possible to get a lift up to viewing platforms at the very top of the 117m-tall Gasometer. From there, the views over the whole region are rather spectacular – if rather heavy on the old smoking chimneys.
Wunderland Kalkar
Wunderland Kalkar in North Rhine-Westphalia was originally designed to be Schneller Brüter, a multi-national nuclear power station shared between Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands. For a variety of reasons, however, it was never turned on.
So what do you do with a big, useless nuclear power plant? Turn it into a theme park, of course.
Looking out over the Rhine river, the rollercoasters, big wheels, hotel and conference centre are given a somewhat surreal look by the giant, brightly-painted cooling tower. And for those slightly worried about the park’s history, never fear, its owners guarantee it’s “radiation free”.
Hitler walking tours
It may sound a little tasteless on the surface, but the Third Reich walking tours are one of the most fascinating ways to discover Munich and its dark Nazi-era history. The Nazi party was formed here, and it was where Adolf Hitler rose to prominence. The tours, led by keen historians, take in the Hofbrauhaus – where Hitler held his first major political rally. Also included are the spot where his attempted beer hall putsch was halted and the sites of former Nazi headquarters.
Strangely, it’s the more insignificant bits - such as the photographer’s studio where Hitler met Eva Braun and the buildings he painted as a struggling artist – that really stick in the memory. (From Munich Viator also offers a tour to the Dachau Concentration Camp; if you’re in Berlin, the Third Reich walking tour covers similar chapters in Nazi history.)
Colditz Escape Museum
Continuing the Second World War theme, Colditz Castle in Saxony is arguably the most famous prisoner of war camp in history. Part of it has now been turned into an ultra-modern youth hostel, but the rest is a museum devoted to the numerous escape bids that Allied POWs attempted. The museum goes into the defences that led to the camp being dubbed ‘unescapable’ – think lots of barbed wire, men with guns and snarling dogs.
But most entertaining are the ingenious methods that the captured officers used in an attempt to get out. Unusually, all were photographed by the Nazis in a bid to train guards about what to look out for – and these photos make up the bulk of the museum.
There are pics of would-be-escapees dressed as women, electricians and German guards. There are also dummies that were used to stand in at roll call, while it’s possible to walk through a tunnel that a group of French POWs painstakingly dug.
Landschaftpark Duisburg-Nord
The Ruhr region is particularly notable for converting old industrial plants into something a bit odd, and the Landschaftpark Duisburg-Nord, in Duisburg, is a classic example. A former ironworks has been transformed into a rather odd-looking public park, where the buildings have been converted into bistros, concert halls, bars and an information centre.
View from halfway up the blast furnace at Landschaftpark Duisburg-Nord
It’s also possible to clamber up to the top of the blast furnace, go free-climbing up the walls of the ore bunkers and have diving lessons in a giant gas cylinder. There’s also a large play area for kids and a series of cycling tracks where the train lines used to run.
The German Occupational Health and Safety Exhibition
Despite sounding like a shoo-in for the title of ‘most boring museum in the known universe’, this enormous maze of workplace wonders is surprisingly engrossing. It’s located in Dortmund, and is utterly bewildering. There’s way more to it than displays on how to lift up boxes properly.
Amongst the many, many things on offer are playful robotic arms, interactive games that mess with your visual perception, aircraft cockpits to sit in and mock-ups of a power station’s control room.
All manner of machinery is on display, from weaving looms and printing presses to helicopters used to repair power lines. There are lots of buttons to press, computers to play with and enormous contraptions to control. All information is in German, so you might not understand what’s going on most of the time if you don’t speak the language, but the sheer scale and ambition of the exhibition make it worth visiting.
Salt mine tour
Having been operational for nearly 500 years, Berchtesgaden’s salt mine is now a tourist attraction. And one that packs in as many forms of novelty transport as it can possibly manage. Visitors dress up in miner’s clothing, whizz down miner’s slides and get into the mine on a miniature train. Once inside, there are chapels made of salt, exhibitions on the mining process and impressive light shows to contend with.
Speeding through the Berchtesgaden salt mine on a miniature train
The trip continues with a raft trip on an eerie underground lake and a funicular railway back up to the top. It’s like a series of theme park rides, an art gallery and an industrial heritage centre all rolled into one. (You can book a joint tour to Berchtesgaden and Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest fortress on Viator.)
Propeller Island hotel
If, after completing your bizarre tour of Germany, you’re looking for somewhere suitably weird to stay, then it’s hard to look past Berlin’s Propeller Island. The brainchild of musician and artist Lars Stroschen, the rooms at Propeller Island are all wildly individual. At best they’re mind-blowingly weird; at worst they’re completely impractical.
One of the most notorious rooms is the upside down room, which has everything – the bed, the chests of drawers, the works, suspended from the ceiling. The real bed can be found hidden in the floor, incidentally. Others include The Mirror Room, which as the name would suggest is entirely surrounded by mirrors. The kaleidoscope effect is nicely complimented by silvery bedsheets…
-David Whitley
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