Archive for the Travel Tips category
Love art-going but hate stuffy museums? Then here’s a rundown of the best open-air art exhibitions from around the world…
1. Fundacion NMAC, Vejer de la Frontera, Spain
Squeezed between the sierras and sea of Andalucia’s Costa de la Luz, Vejer de la Frontera is a traveler’s dream. A typical whitewashed Andalucian town, it’s just about as calm and authentic a place as you’re likely to encounter anywhere on your travels.
One of the world’s leading art exhibitions can also be found here. The collection at the Fundacion NMAC is simply awesome, including installations by established artists such as Susana Solano, Richard Nonas, Sol LeWitt and Roxy Paine. And, what’s more, like Paine’s giant metal tree (pictured above), it’s almost all outdoors.
The Fundacion is about showcasing contemporary art in natural landscapes, emphasizing ’specific projects which promote social dialogue and understanding through art’. The result is an enchanting and cerebral place that demands hours upon hours of happy wanderings (or should that be wonderings?).
2. Vigeland Sculpture Park, Oslo, Norway
Frogerparken in Oslo is a little bit special. The laid-back urban park is different from most in that, aside from the usual leafy expanses and picnicking couples, it includes an 80-acre sculpture park that features 212 large-scale pieces by Gustav Vigeland.
The sculptures sit along an axis that splits the park into five different segments, each carrying its own theme. At the top of this axis, you find the standout sculpture - a 12-foot high ‘Monolith’ of naked bodies climbing their way to heaven. It’s a magnificent jewel in the park’s already glittering crown.
3. Hakone Open-Air Museum, Hakone, Japan
This massive establishment, based in the expansive Fuji Hakone Izu National Park, was Japan’s first-ever outdoor museum. Opened in the 60s, it has built up a stunning collection over the years and today boasts Rodins, Miros, Renoirs, Picassos and Moores.
The sculptures by Henry Moore, in particular, find a happy home here - as the artist himself proclaimed, ‘Sculpture is an art of the open air’ and, gazing at the solid form of his sweeping pieces cut against the backdrop of Japan’s rolling mountains and infinite sky, you can see what he was getting at.
4. Victoria’s Way, Dublin, Ireland
Spread out across 22 acres of beautiful countryside, Victoria’s Way contains several massive sculptures of Ganesha, provoking the visitor into inner-contemplation and prodding them onto the road of ultimate happiness. Which is kind of surreal, really, since it’s in Catholic Ireland, only a half hour from Dublin.
The Park stands out for a number of reasons: partly because the sculptures are impressive, partly because you can chat to the mastermind behind it all (if you find his workshop next to the car park), and partly because it’s very much a hidden gem. Few tourist guide books cover Victoria’s Way, and fewer tourists still make it out here. Those that do are in for a veritable treat.
5. Frieze Art Fair, London, England
While the Frieze Art Fair isn’t a permanent exhibition (rather, it’s an annual three day event), it deserves a place on the list simply because it’s a mainstay in the calender of every mover and shaker in the contemporary art world.
Held in Regent’s Park, the Fair invariably exhibits the world’s most cutting-edge (and let’s be honest, downright expensive) ‘trendy’ art - although most of the visitors are there just to enjoy the view. Whether it’s the spectacle of the art, or the view of the bigwigs networking, well, who’s to say?
This year’s Fair has already passed but, rest assured, it will be back in 2009. In the meantime, you could always throw some paint at a canvas, hang it on the wall in your garden and then gaze at it intently, mumbling something about the nature of perception in posthumanist times and flicking at your mustache.
Or you could get a friend to do it while you watch and point.
So the banking system has crashed, no one has any money left to speak of (just where has it all gone?), and we’re now all doomed to a life of eating cigarette butts picked off the road. Or something like that.
Alright… so we’re hardly experts on world finance, but it does seem that people are going to have a little less cash to splash in the coming months. Before you go hastily canceling your backpacking plans, however, it’s worth taking a mo to figure out a cheaper way of doing things. Of course, it goes without saying that you’ll be staying in a hostel, but how about saving on transport, too?
Hitchhiking has a bad rep. And it’s undeserved, since it’s quite simply one of the very best ways to travel the world: you meet new people, you see the great outdoors though the window (or, if you’re that way inclined, from outside the window, tongue lolling like an excitable dog…) and you spend practically nothing.
What better way, then, to negotiate the world during these supposedly troubled times than to get yourself on the road and start exercising that imploring thumb action? Here you have it, then, our Top 10 Tips for Hitchhiking…
1. Find Out about Local Hitching Customs
It’s not always easy to do, but when possible try to find out about the official and unofficial local laws of 
hitching. It can be helpful to know, for example, that while hitching isn’t exactly illegal in the US, there are major restrictions, and these can change from state to state. Similarly, knowing that hitchhikers are often expected to pay their way in parts of South America can help you avoid unexpected and unnecessary arguments.
2. Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd
Hitching in pairs can be a great way of cutting down on roadside-waiting time, especially if you’re a mixed pair or two women traveling together. While a lonesome figure thumbing a lift instantly calls to mind images of escaped convicts (well, for some at least), two friends looking for a ride appear comparatively amiable and less inherently dangerous. Avoid groups of three or more, however. That’s a gang (and it’s also logistically less plausible for small cars).
3. Scrub Up
Working on the fairly safe assumption that drivers are a little wary of picking up escaped convicts, try not to look like an escaped convict! The shabbier you appear, the less likely you are to get a lift. So hide those stripey rags, dress in something at least a little clean, and maybe even have a wash and shave, too. Trust us, it’ll help.
4. Look Happy
Even if you’re wearing your Sunday best, drivers aren’t likely to stop if your face screams ’suicidal junky without a fix’. Try to look alert and interesting.
5. Choose a Spot
This is a big one. Choosing a good spot is vital if you want to be picked up quickly. Common knowledge amongst hitchers has it that you need to find a spot where cars will see you for as long as possible, and where they have plenty of space to stop if they decide to help. So try to avoid corners and busy roads without run-off areas.
Your spot doesn’t have to be on a road - it could be outside a petrol garage, or at a motorway rest stop. Hitching from these places is more likely to land you a long-haul ride inside a truck, as it’s a lot of effort for truckers to stop their heaving juggernauts on the side of the road.
Finally, while hitcher theory differs on this one, we say choose a spot and stay there. It’s a bit like fishing… Or panning for gold… The grass is always greener, and it’s always easy to be tempted into thinking your spot isn’t good enough. But it’s all random really, and you’re on the road anyway, so where’s the rush?
6. Make Eye Contact
Assuming you’ve found a good spot where you can see cars from a long way off, try to make eye contact with drivers - that little flicker of human contact can make all the difference. Don’t, on any account, wear sunglasses. Escaped convicts wear sunglasses to hide from the law.
7. Talk to the Driver Before Getting in
Once a car’s stopped for you, walk up to the driver’s seat and ask the driver where they’re going. That way you have a little time to assess your potential ride, and decide whether it appeals or not. If there’s something not quite right, you’re not in the car, so you can simply walk away.
8. Talk to the Driver Once You’re in
Hitchhiking is all about the stories and the characters… so get chatting!
9. Carry a Phone if Possible
If you have a mobile phone, carry it with you in your pocket. The phone may come in handy if you get yourself into a situation you wouldn’t want to be in. In reality though, it’s more likely you’ll use it as something to write your new traveling buddy’s number into.
10. Do Unto Other (Hitchers) as You Would Have (Other Hitchers) Do to You
Compared with the heady days of the 40s and 50s when just about everyone was hitching all over the place, today hitchers are something of a dying breed. So if you meet a hitcher on the road, respect them as brethren - don’t steal their ride by standing 20 meters in front on the same road!
Unless they’re an escaped convict, that is, in which case stand behind a tree and call the police.
Shopping in Granada is a mixed bag: there are the pleasingly bogus Moroccan tables, throws and ashtrays on Calle Caldereria; then there are the big name high street stores and the shoe shops with their dazzlingly colorful wares that line the streets around Plaza Bib-Rambla.
But it’s also a big university town, and the presence of so many students explains the cluster of excellent vintage and second-hand clothes shops in Granada. These can be found, pretty much as you’d expect, over to the west of the city center in the student neighborhood, around the Plaza de la Universidad.
The first, M’Enkanta, is on the Plaza de la Universidad itself, and specializes in the sort of trademark Granada ethno/hippy wear - baggy trousers, long floaty skirts, bangles… that kind of thing. (But a lot better than some of the tacky stores you find elsewhere in the city.) Just next door is La Buhardilla, which sells an assortment of t-shirts, jeans and dresses amongst its selection of excellent vintage clothing.
Round the corner on Calle Escuelas, meanwhile, there are a couple more Granada shopping gems in the form of Ropero (No. 12) and its spill-over store a couple of doors down. Here you can pick up practically anything - from vintage t-shirts, cool trainers and leather jackets, to antique-looking golf clubs and even used sleeping bags! The music’s often pretty cool, too, and it’s hard to avoid losing yourself in rail after rail of tempting threads.
If all the rummaging gets a bit too much, the solution is simple: just nip back round to the Plaza de la Universidad, grab a chair outside one of the bars there…
…order a drink and admire the view!
Moving on from El Palmar, for some of us at least, it was off to Granada. And at this point, we should probably lay our cards on the table: here at HostelBloggers, we love Granada. Not just love, but adore… One of our number went to university in the city, and it’ll always hold a special place in our traveling hearts.
But you really don’t have to have spent long in the city to figure out that the Alhambra is pretty hard to miss. It seems that no matter where you are in the city it jumps out at you; streets seem to wind towards it, and squares open up onto it.
There’s one view of the Alhambra, though, that beats them all: the view from the Mirador de San Nicolas.
High up in the Albayzin, gazing out over the Alhambra (’mirador’ means viewpoint) and to the Sierra Nevada mountain range beyond, it offers one of the most majestic views of any city in Europe. It’s also one of the most crowded spots in the whole city, though, and at sunset particularly people flock to get their photo opportunity with the palace.
Having taken in the view, the best thing to do is leave the crowds behind, and slink off into the Albayzin to explore. (After all, you’ve climbed all the way up there!)
The first thing that strikes you about the Albayzin - a tangled web of narrow streets, alleyways and gorgeous whitewashed houses - is that it’s pretty hard to find your away around. It has a funny way of twisting, turning and leading you - seemingly at will - into a state of total disorientation. But getting lost is ultimately half the fun.
Should you manage to find it, the Plaza Aliatar (up in the high Albayzin, to the north) is a great place to stop for refreshments. As well as being a lively local spot, it’s home to another of the best tapas bars in Granada: Bar Aliatar - Los Caracoles. Their specialty, however, is probably not for everyone, as a steaming plate of snails (caracoles) generally comes with the first drink.
After a stroll and a bite to eat, HostelBloggers have always found that when you come back to the Mirador, under cover of darkness, the scene is a different one altogether.
It sounds like some sort of awful travel cliche - or, worse still, the fabrication of a travel writer - but by about midnight on a warm autumn evening, there are usually a few gypsies strumming a guitar, singing, clapping and having a good time.
It’s invariably raucous and rough, there’s not a frilly skirt or clacking castanet in sight, and it’s for no one’s benefit but their own. Sitting on a bench and looking out over the Alhambra, radiant in the gloom, though, it’s worth a dozen touristy flamenco ’shows’.
Stand on the northernmost tip of Cadiz’s Playa Victoria and look south - it looks as though the beach just goes on into the sky. Having been tipped off about Andalucia’s coastline before leaving London, it was now time to find out for ourselves how far the magical sand stretches…
Day Seven. We head straight for Cadiz’s bus station (right next to the port) and board a bus heading to Los Canos de Meca. The ticket only costs about €5, and the bus grunts straight along the coastline. We pass a medium-sized white village called Conil, and then trundle into El Palmar - a tiny settlement, right on the edge of the sea, about 6km from Canos de Meca.
El Palmar looks almost deserted, and the call of the sea is just too much; we hastily decamp from the bus, reasoning that we can walk to Canos later that day, and are soon happily installed on the empty beach. We swim, read, and (quite amazingly) go for a jog - the beach stays just as devoid of people as the hours tick by. Predictably, night soon falls, and we haven’t got anywhere near Canos.
Luckily, this is Andalucia, and sleeping outside really isn’t a problem. We trudge a couple of km to the nearest shop, stock up on red wine (in case things get chilly, of course), and then head back to our same, wonderfully deserted spot. We spend the night watching shooting stars blaze across the shimmering firmament, before falling happily asleep beneath our blanket.
Day Eight. Waking with the sun, we agree almost instantly to spend another day in El Palmar; Canos is just the other side of a lighthouse we can see in the distance, but we came looking for chilled Andalucian beaches, and that’s exactly what we’ve found. There seems little point in rejecting it now it’s here.
Aside from the beach and shop, El Palmar offers about four restaurants, and a couple of cervecerias (bars that sell ice-cold beer). We frequent them all throughout the day, intermittently heading to the beach for a swim or a read (we’re immersed in On The Road, although Kerouac’s travels are admittedly a little different from ours). Again, night falls, and we sleep - this time somewhat sun-blushed - under the stars of El Palmar.
Day Nine. Today we leave sleepy El Palmar. For one of us, a flight back to Blighty calls (though not before spending one more night in Seville - this time staying at the brilliant Oasis Backpackers). For the others, well, it’s time to head onwards - the tapas and Moorish treasures of Granada beckon…
The train from Seville to Cadiz takes almost two hours. Outside the window, dusty villages and barely-farmable scrubland fly by, although we somehow get too interested in the train’s chairs (which can be switched depending on whether you want to sit forward or backward) to really appreciate it.
Widely considered the oldest city in Europe - it dates back to Phoenician Times - Cadiz’s staying power is probably testament to its singular geography. The whole city perches atop an island on the very south of the Spanish coast, which has made it both easy to defend, and easy to supply via trade, throughout its 3000 year history.
The train winds in across one of two busy bridges, and as it does so, we get a view of the imposing city that must have deterred so many would-be invaders in years gone by. We’re not here to invade, however, only to enjoy…
Day Five. Having negotiated the short trip from the train station, we arrive at our Cadiz hostel, Casa Caracol. A real surfers’ hangout, the hostel is probably not for everyone, but we’d been tipped off before leaving that it’d be right up our street, and so it proves to be. Friendly and fairly seriously chilled, there’s a familiar smell in the air here, and we like it…
We spend the rest of the day walking round Cadiz’s largely empty streets (it’s a Sunday), watching the sunset from the Playa de la Caleta on the southern tip of the city, and then dining in the beautiful setting of a quiet plaza, where tables have been haphazardly set between houses and hanging baskets.
We’ve frankly no idea as to the name and location of the restaurant - we were lost when we found it, and then we were lost again once we left. Suffice to say there are loads of such joints in Cadiz, and they’re all pretty affordable too. (Quick tip: Stick to the seafood - it’s excellent, and try washing it down with a glass of fino, or dry white sherry).
Day Six. We wake smelling bad again, although this time since we’re outside, in one of Casa Caracol’s rooftop hammocks, it doesn’t seem to matter too much. And besides, we’ve only one intention for the day - to go surfing.
We head south from Caracol to Cadiz’s imposing Catedral Nueva, and then east along the shoreline, to the Playa Santa Maria del Mar. This short stretch of sand is empty save for the odd figure fighting into a wetsuit. Out on the ocean, tens of small black dots bob around before one suddenly bursts from the sea and surfs serenely along for thirty, forty meters, before falling back into the water below.
Finding a small shop (Hopupu) just a block away from the shore, we rent board and suit for €20, and head out to join the black dots in the sea. We’re clearly rank surfing amateurs, and as we leave the shop the likable fellow who runs it can be heard having a quiet chuckle as we manage to drop the boards three times before we’ve even reached the end of the road.
The surf here is good - fairly calm yet strong enough to ride, it’s perfect for the beginner. Or so we’re told. Following four hours of attempted surfing, HostelBloggers’ opinions are split. For one of our number, surfing is a joyous expression of riding with nature in tow. For another, it’s equivalent to some dastardly form of Chinese water torture.
We squelch out of our suits, and head back to the hostel for food, chat and drink (though not necessarily in that order). Later that evening, having cooled off and dried up, we decide Cadiz is just about the most relaxed and relaxing city (especially for a port!) we’ve ever encountered.
As for tomorrow? The wilderness calls…
It’s time, once again, to turn our attention towards, well, ourselves. Yup, having decided a couple of weeks back that too much time had passed since our trip to the Dam, we scoured the budget airlines (not XL, fortunately), and hastily arranged a trip around that oven-hot region of Spain commonly known as Andalucia. So, armed with a copy of Washington Irving’s Tales of the Alhambra, and Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, along with a few haphazardly chosen items of clothing and a stunning lack of toiletry provisions, we set off, all gleaming eyes and thoughts of drunken afternoon naps. Here, pretty much, is what happened…
Day One. Arriving late into the city, we meet a well-to-do seeming Saffer at the airport who is similarly heading for Hostel Urbany. We immediately smell a travel buddy, and two hours later, having checked into the perfectly friendly hostel and negotiated its complex system of electronic key cards, we are sat - along with another parched traveler - outside one of the studenty bars along the Alameda de Hercules (over to the west of the city center).
Spain’s notorious for its late night easy-going drinking, and the Alameda in particular throbs with a lively sociability. A long dusty boulevard, however, it may be the least visually pleasing thing in the whole of Seville. But then, after an hour or so of getting drink after drink brought to our table, we could hardly see anyway - and nor, apparently, could anyone else in the vicinity!
Day Two. Waking later than is socially acceptable even in Spain, a pounding mess of a head takes us straight out of the hostel and to the nearest bar still offering breakfast (desayuno). If there’s one thing we like more than drinking in Spain, it may well be eating in Spain, and breakfast is a particular winner. You simply sit down, order a coffee, some orange juice, and a tostada (toasted baguette smothered in whatever combination of oil, salt and tomato that you desire) and watch the world as it shambles along.
Today, however, each bite of the tostada seems to go the wrong way - up, into our head, where it starts to ferment nicely with the alcohol already sloshing about up there. We pay up and head southeast, to the verdant and cultivated splendor of the Parque de Maria Luisa. The Parque (along with the magnificant Plaza Espana) was created back in 1929 for Seville’s first World Expo - it’s one of the most chilled and invigorating places to be found in the city.
Nighttime falls before we realize, and a date made amidst the carnage of the night before to return to the scene of the crime cannot be broken. With the remains of a thick head still lingering, we trudge over to the Alameda, and another long night of drinking commences.
Day Three. There’s a smell, and it’s us. Having forgotten to bring a towel (along with any kind of soap or deodorant) we’re forced to do an impromptu ’air-drying’ dance in the bathroom to shake off excess water. Unfortunately, having not locked the door properly, we’re promptly disturbed in mid-shake by one of our roommates (she will later that day be heard asking to change rooms, although no explanation was given).
Thus far Seville has been wonderful in a lazy, drunken sort of way, but today things need to change. We grab our books, and head to the Alfalfa - a completely charming and skin-pricklingly alive barrio that marries talkative tapas joints with family-friendly playgrounds. We spend a few happy hours moving from bar to bar, nibbling on tapas and reading Tales of the Alhambra. This is how Spain should be - and is!
Later we head into the Old Town proper, known as the Barrio de Santa Cruz, and take a trip round Seville’s version of the Alhambra: the Alcazar. But more on that later…
Day Four. Today we leave Seville, though not before a trip across the river into the Barrio de Triana. There’s a saying amongst residents that ‘Seville is a Barrio of Triana’, and the sense of community is palpable as you explore this wonderfully scruffy and strongly idiosyncratic area.
Seville is an almost indescribably beautiful place that drips with faded grandeur. If a city could be described as architecturally eloquent, then you get the feeling Seville would have trademarked the term long ago. Across its vast Old Town, the barrios - Santa Cruz, the Alfalfa, Arenal, Triana, San Lorenzo and the Macarena - all segue into one another, each one as intriguing and visually arresting as the last… But there’s little time for rumination, as we’re on the move again. Next stop: Cadiz.
Over at The Indie Travel Podcast, Craig Martin is looking for a handful of willing (and able) writers to contribute to his new book, Travelling Europe.
Since HostelBloggers have always been a big fan, we’re hoping that it’ll be just the first in a series of similar publications. But in the meantime, there’s the small matter of getting the words on the page in the first place…
Articles should be 500-800 words and full of practical advice about independent travel in Europe. The following sections are up for grabs:
- Solo male travel
- Solo female travel
- Disabled travel
- Family travel
- Travel for Over-50s
Now for the important part: in return for your efforts you can expect to have 15 shiny US Dollars pinged into your Paypal account. Then of course there’s the joy of being published (alongside a short bio and grinning mug shot to prove it) and maybe taking another step closer to becoming a travel writer.
If all that sounds like something you a) Could do and b) Could do well, you should send an email detailing your proposal (along with your perspective, experience and an article outline) to: mail@indietravelpodcast.com.
Good luck!
The question of where to head for cheap shopping in London has been on (some of) our minds a lot recently. Especially as the association of ‘vintage’ with cool has led to a jump in the price of second-hand clothes in fashionable London.
So we were pleased as punch to come across a hidden budget gem where boys and girls alike can get their hands on some bargains - the East End Thrift Store on Assembly Passage.
It’s a a bit out of the way (the nearest tube is Stepney Green) but that just has a positive effect on both the quality and cost. And unlike other, better known shops such as Beyond Retro near trendy Brick Lane, it isn’t over-priced or over-crowded.
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Basically, it’s just a large, unglamorous warehouse with a ton of muddled up vintage clothes. Open every day from 11am-6pm, it’s still newish and quiet enough that you can always sift through the rails in peace. Or rather, to the sound of the loud, groovy background music.
The cracking collection includes cowboy boots, tea dresses, ultra-cool 80s sportswear, leather jackets, posh shirts… and the list goes on!
And, best of all, it’s rarely more than £10 an item.
There’s a rumor that the owners are opening another store just off Brick Lane. Let’s just hope it stays as cool and cheap!
Nath Richards is chronically afflicted with the independent travel bug, a condition which he channels into a great budget travel site. He also (rather thoughtfully) writes a fantastic blog, which keeps you abreast of his tumbleweed wanderings. Addressing some of the main issues, concerns, interests (and cliches) of traveling, it’s also written in a lively, and often pretty amusing style.
His latest post - Finally at ‘The Beach’ - was a case in point. Nath’s in Thailand, and he rattles through savvy Canadian backpackers, Leonardo di Caprio, Thailand travel mythology, fleapit phuket hostels, travel budgets, Dagenham and Redbridge(!) and semi-longing sideways glances at Lonely Planet expense accounts… All in a couple of hundred words. Phew.
This massive establishment, based in the expansive Fuji Hakone Izu National Park, was Japan’s first-ever outdoor museum. Opened in the 60s, it has built up a stunning collection over the years and today boasts Rodins, Miros, Renoirs, Picassos and Moores.
