National Geographic Traveller India - July 2014

2nd anniversary
special
J U L Y 2 0 1 4 • ` 1 5 0 • VO L . 3 ISSUE 1
annual
travel writing
contest
Roma
Rhapsody
Return To
} }
The Kings of
Roots
Gypsy Music
organic
connections
Mexico Looking for a rebel granNY Canada’s
New York’s Little India Oyster Isle
Kolkata No place like home
The Bahamas Diving to Dan’s Cave
England lake district memories
Pack your bags and get ready to leave,
YOU HAVE WON your dream vacation!
SEVEN LUCKY WINNERS have won exciting five-star holidays at luxurious

Taj properties around India and the world.
You sent us photographs that captured the magic of the Taj experience.
7 lucky winners struck the jackpot !

ER
N
IN
W
The winning photograph by SHREYA SEN captured the breezy and laidback joys of Vivanta by Taj - Fort Aguada
SHE HAS WON A THREE-NIGHT STAY FOR TWO PEOPLE AT THE TAJ CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA
PROMOTION
E 2n
IZ d
PR PR
d IZ
2n E
TASCHA EIPE’s dramatic photograph of The Taj Mahal Palace, SYED ALI ARIF’s photograph of the Taj Falaknuma Palace,
Mumbai captured the many moods of this iconic property. Hyderabad, summons up a sense of royalty and magnificence.
TASCHA EIPE and SYED ALI ARIF have each won a two-night stay for two at Vivanta by Taj in Bentota,
Sri Lanka or Taj Falaknuma Palace in Hyderabad.
RUNNERS UP
CHRISTOPHER LOUZADO, NEEL NAREGAL, MANJUNATH SHENOY, DR. PUSHPENDRA RANAWAT
have won a 2-night stay for two at Vivanta by Taj - Fort Aguada in Goa, or at one of
The Gateway Hotels in Nashik, Coonoor, or Chikmagalur.
July 2014
CONTENTS
Volume
3
Issue
G
E L W RITIN 1
TRAV EST P. 174
CONT ONTESTS
OC
PHOT 5 & P. 173
N A T I O N A L G E O G R A P H I C T R AV E L L E R I N D I A
P. 16
94
The Bahamas
In Focus
82 94 106 114 122

ONNE VAN DER WAL/CORBIS/IMAGE LIBRARY
MY GRANNY, HIDDEN DEPTHS AT HOME ABROAD RELIVING DIVING BACK IN

THE REBEL Sometimes, you Despite the winds REMEMBERED JOYS Sharing lessons
On the trail of a need to get beneath of change, Jackson IN KOLKATA learnt in England’s
revolutionary ancestor the surface to really Heights retains much There’s no place like Lake District with the
in central Mexico discover home of its ethnic charm, home. Especially if next generation
TEXT AND PHOTOGRAPHS TEXT AND PHOTOGRAPHS giving an American- it involves old friends, BY MARK HANNANT
BY PETER MCBRIDE BY BRITT BASEL Indian enough to feel bed tea, and long jaunts
nostalgic about down Park Street
BY PIYALI BHATTACHARYA BY SHREYA SEN-HANDLEY
10 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

capture a lifetime of great memories
take a welcombreak
your loved ones experiences worth treasuring. From unforgettable gourmet expeditions and memorable
ITC Hotels plays gracious host to you and your family.
MyCity Breaks • Short Breaks • Culinary Breaks • Kaya Kalp Spa Breaks • Eva Breaks • Heritage Breaks
For reservations, call 1-800-102-2333, visit or contact your travel agent.
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• Kolkata • Mumbai • New Delhi • Panchkula - Chandigarh • Vadodara • Visakhapatnam
152
18 Editor’s Note  20 Letters  165 Big Shot

166 Inspire  176 Travel Quiz 60
Voices 38 Geotourism 56 Book Extract Get Going
paul harris/awl images/getty images (rocks), jenny pate/robert harding picture library/dinodia (boat)
Bonito’s crystal-clear lagoons Valmik Thapar traces the
22 Tread Softly past and present of the tiger 150 The Walk
Using the phone behind the 40 Local Flavour in India A sunrise hike up to the
wheel is calling for trouble Hyderabad’s MLA pesarattu volcanic Mount Batur in
Tokyo’s hot noodle broth 60 Experience Bali, Indonesia
24 Far Corners Kerala’s backwater cruises
Barbed wire and invisible lines 44 Quest for tourists in a hurry 152 Adventure
on the Bangladesh border Following Goa’s Mandovi River Skinny-dipping can be a A beginner’s guide to
soul-stirring affair coasteering trips that explore
26 Book of Hours 46 On Foot rocky shorelines
Mauritius, an illustrated World War I tales in Italy’s 64 The Trend
travelogue rocky Dolomites In Lima, the food and art Short Breaks
scenes beat fast and furious
28 Guest Column 48 Hidden Gem 154 From Chennai
Alone in a new place, a fictional The ground beneath Amer Fort 68 Taste of Travel Tricoloured sands and a virgin
self emerges The Niçoise tomato is ripe with goddess in Kanyakumari
50 Urban Renewal Mediterranean flavours
Navigate Tales of Saint-Louis’s past 160 Stay
through the language of jazz 70 National Park Angling and sustainable
30 The Insider Barren and beautiful Pin Valley farming in rural Maharashtra
In the fast-forward Cambodian 52 Detour National Park Stories by the fireside in
capital, the past still haunts Germany’s intellectual capital a fabled Deogarh mansion
76 The Concept
34 Take Five 54 Culture Icy views, and the occasional 162 From Bengaluru
Culinary pit stops that Borobudur Temple, the world’s grizzly bear, from Jasper’s An insider’s guide to the
enlighten and entertain largest Buddha shrine Glacier Skywalk simple joys of Kodaikanal
12 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | july 2014

ON THE COVER
2nd anniversary
J U L Y 2 0 1 4 • ` 1 5 0 • VO L . 3
special
ISSUE 1
annual
132
travel writing
Photographer
contest
Jeremy
Woodhouse
shot this image
of young girls
in Quinceanera
dresses in San
roma
rhapsody
RetuRn to
} } Miguel de Al-
the Kings of
Roots
gypsy music
organic
connections
Mexico LOOkIng fOr a rEbEL grannY canada’s
new York’s LIttLE IndIa oyster isle
lende, in central
kolkata nO pLacE LIkE hOmE
the bahamas dIVIng tO dan’S caVE
England LakE dIStrIct mEmOrIES
Mexico. Tradi-
tions like this coming-of-age celebration
thrive in the city, which has a well-pre-
served historical centre and a flourishing
art and cultural scene that attracts visitors.
Journeys
132 138
BARRETT & MACKAY/ALL CANADA PHOTOS/GETTY IMAGES (LIGHTHOUSE), AFRANCOIS LE DIASCORN/GETTY IMAGES (MUSIC), BRITT BASEL (DIVER)
ROMA RHAPSODY EATS, SHUCKS, AND LEAVES
Following the kings of gypsy music straight Connecting with Prince Edward Island,
into the heart of Romania one meal at a time
138 BY PANCRAS DIJK BY NEHA SUMITRAN
PHOTOGRAPHS BY BOGDAN CROITORU
PAGE 94
BAC KSTORY
DISAPPEARING ACT
T
he day after exploring Dan’s Cave,
Britt Basel and a few friends
ventured back into the Bahamian
bush of Abaco to dive into another blue
hole called Sawmill Sink. In the original
National Geographic magazine article that
inspired Britt’s trip, the author, Andrew
Todhunter, writes about passing through
a murky sulphurous layer hidden under a
layer of freshwater, during his dive at Dan’s
Cave. Since Britt and her friends didn’t
intend to dive deep, she hadn’t given much
thought to this phenomenon. If she had, it
JEREMY WOODHOUSE/DINODIA (COVER)
would have made the moment when her

dive companion Adam suddenly vanished
from sight, less heart-stopping. A few
panicked seconds later though, his head
popped back into view. He had passed
through the sulphurous layer, and Britt had
the bizarre experience of watching a friend
disappear momentarily.

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Editor’s Note | niloufer venkatraman
Into the Wild, Child in Tow

Last month, as I was making the final arrange-
ments for my family’s two-week summer holiday
in Indonesia, I had a worrying thought: Would
my daughter enjoy herself without any peers
for company? I’d been warned that by age eight
the company of parents on a vacation starts to
become boring, if not altogether tedious. On
the first leg of the trip, we were to spend three
full days on a wooden boat just 20 feet long and
10 feet wide, travelling on the Sekonyer River
deep into the Tanjung Puting National Park in
Kalimantan. I had wondered how my normally
fidgety child was going to fare.
She had a blast, we all did. The boat quickly
became home. The crew was a young couple who
had brought their two-year-old son Ily along and
he became my daughter’s occasional companion.
Our guide Nina became her pal. My girl learnt
to take pictures until her camera battery died.
She thrilled at spotting orang-utans, learning
the names of the semi-wild ones from Nina, and
even trying to recognise them by their features.
We all fell in love with these gorgeous primates.
A curious, mischievous baby orang-utan called
Lincoln became my daughter’s favourite.
In every way, I had underestimated how
easily she would take to living on an open
boat, or the experience of being in another
country. Travel piqued her curiosity, and her
sense of amazement at new discoveries quickly
infected us as well. Children are far more
adaptable than we give them credit for. On
a blazing hot day, we somewhat foolishly rented
bicycles to cycle for two hours around the island
of Gili Air, not far from Bali. I was amazed
at how confidently she managed her bicycle
considering she’d barely learnt to balance on
a small one at home.
As it turned out, neither the visit to see orang-
utans nor the week of lazing on a beach was
was dozing off on the deck of an Indonesian in the least bit problematic. Not only did our
our mission
klotok (wooden boat), as we gently chugged daughter enjoy the company of her parents, I
our way past vast swathes of water hyacinth think she loved having so much of our attention.
National Geographic
Traveller India is threatening to get stuck in the propeller. Travel builds a child’s confidence, curiosity,
about immersive My eight-year-old daughter’s excited and the ability to accept that things don’t always
travel and authentic voice woke me up: “There’s Tom, it’s Tom!” go exactly as you want them to—they learn
storytelling, inspiring
readers to create their I opened my eyes and saw an enormous that you must adapt, adjust, and move on.
own journeys and orang-utan casually hanging from a tree on When the trip was almost over, my daughter
return with amazing the riverbank. The “Tom” my little girl thought declared: “Next time, let’s go on holiday for
stories. Our distinctive
she had identified, referred to a primate we 85 days.” I thought quietly to myself: “Maybe
andré morris
yellow rectangle is a
window into a world of had learnt about at Camp Leakey, an orang-utan not the next time, but someday soon, we will.”
unparalleled discovery. rehabilitation centre that we’d visited earlier
that morning.
18 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

R
INBOX
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@NatGeoTravellerIndia
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@NGTIndia
ON THE WEB
I’ve been to Wales and I

couldn’t agree more with the
article “Welsh Rarebit” in
the June issue. The scenery
is so picturesque that no
matter how long you drive, the
landscape never gets old.
—Pooja S. Shah
Neha Sumitran beautifully

captured the Chadar trek in
her article. It is an experience
that tests you both physically
and mentally. I remember
seeing her on the first day of
the trek with her arm in a sling.
I didn’t know who she was at
the time, but we were all in awe
of her grit and determination.
—Sobhan Mohanty
After reading Karanjeet Kaur’s

piece, I feel like I have just
returned from Kannauj with
Lord’s Cricket Ground, London.
vials of ittar.
—Rhythma Kaul
M y visit to Lord’s Cricket Ground in London was

like a dream come true. I spent an afternoon
at a county game, delighted to be watching a match
The Kannauj piece is a
delightful read; as visual as it
is fragrant.
in the place where the sport was born. It is the ideal
—Anurag Banerjee
destination for a cricket-loving traveller. At Lord’s,
one can explore the rich history of the game, get
lessons from the Marylebone Cricket Club, have a picnic, even get married when
a game isn’t on. My day there gave me a deeper understanding and connection
with India’s favourite game. —Shouptik Basu
Write to us
I am very impressed by Nat more interesting issues and to history. Despite all
Share stories of your travel Geo Traveller’s innovative even more “voices”. the horrifying details, the
TOM SHAW/STAFF/GETTY IMAGES SPORT/GETTY IMAGES
with us. We will publish some approach to travel stories. —Praachi Jain stories of survival proved
of them on these pages. The Voices section is my very inspiring. One
Emails letters@natgeotraveller.in favourite, as it often forces The Editor’s Note titled wouldn’t have expected a
Letters National Geographic Trav- me to rethink my opinions. “Inward Bound” in the May travel magazine to evoke
eller India, Sumer Plaza, 2nd Floor, I have learnt to appreciate 2014 issue was extremely such strong feelings. I do
Marol Maroshi Road, Andheri East, the new relationships we thought-provoking. It hope to visit Auschwitz
Mumbai 400 059. Published let-
form while travelling, our took readers to Auschwitz soon and thank you for
ters may be excerpted and edited.
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37 or write to subscribe@natgeo- and the importance of the present with great clarity. on this human tragedy.
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Visit us at www.natgeotraveller.in

Voices | TREAD SOFTLY
MIKE PANDEY
Fatal Distraction
YOU’RE CALLING FOR TROUBLE IF YOU’RE USING YOUR PHONE WHILE DRIVING
C
ell phones have revolutionised the world Using the phone while driving is as bad as
and it is hard to imagine how we ever driving drunk, and seriously affects the reflexes
functioned without them. But there is in an emergency.
one place where they do more harm Researchers claim that the radiation from
than good and that’s when they’re being used by mobile phones affects motor nerves and
someone behind the wheel. This was brought contributes to the slowing down of reaction time.
home to me recently while driving from Delhi to Prolonged use of phones heats up handsets and
Mussoorie. There were many cars on the road as exposes us to harmful doses of the radiation. A
Mike Pandey is a
families headed to cooler climes for the summer BlackBerry instruction booklet advises that users
conservationist and holidays. At one point, I came across the mangled limit mobile phone usage to two minutes per hour.
wildlife filmmaker. He remains of two vehicles that had just collided. The But who reads the fine print? According to a
has won the Green critically injured passengers were being moved to story in the Economist, which quoted the head
Oscar three times. hospitals in Dehradun and we stopped to help. of an Indian pressure group, the number of deaths
According to the police and eyewitnesses, the caused by drivers using phones surpassed that
drivers of both vehicles were using their mobile of drunk-driving three years ago. An estimate by
phones when the accident took place. One even the World Health Organisation states that mobile
had a half-written text that he never managed to phone distraction accounts for nearly a fifth of
send. Most distressingly, even as I heard this tale, the more than 2,30,000 fatalities that take place
I could see that the drivers of several cars that on India’s roads every year. Other studies have
went past had phones firmly pressed to their found scientific evidence confirming that phone
ears. They were having animated conversations, conversations disrupt driving performance and
completely oblivious to their surroundings. cause a kind of “inattention blindness”.
The human brain is amazing and it has a Listening to the radio or talking to co-pass-
tremendous capacity to multitask and react engers does not impair driving abilities in the
instantaneously to emergencies. However, the same way. The radio can be ignored or turned
brain can fully concentrate on only one thing at a off, and co-passengers usually stop talking and
time, especially when involved in a conversation. naturally monitor their conversation when the
car is in a crowded area or in difficult terrain,
allowing the driver to concentrate. However,
The drivers of both vehicles were using their someone at the other end of a phone line doesn’t
have the same visual input, and will keep talking
mobile phones when the accident took place. regardless of road conditions. Studies have shown
One even had a half-written text that he never that drivers too will drop in-car conversation when
they need to concentrate more on driving, but feel
managed to send obliged to continue talking on a phone under the
same conditions.
The next time you head out on a road trip, try
a little self-regulation. Put your phone on silent
before you start driving. Even looking towards
your phone to reject a call can force you to take
your eyes off the road for that crucial moment. If
you need to make or take a really urgent call when
driving, park in a safe place and do it.
You can download apps like Otter and
DriveOFF that make this simpler. They lock the
phone for making or receiving calls and texts
when the GPS detects the car is moving. The apps
WIN-INITIATIVE/GETTY IMAGES
can even respond to the caller with a text so they

know you’re driving and will get back.
Make our roads safer by putting down the cell
phone for the duration of your journey. A little
prudence can keep us, our families and friends
safe and secure. Have a great relaxing holiday and
come back home safely.

Voices | FAR CORNERS
KAI FRIESE
The Shadowlands
BARBED WIRE, MADHOUSES, AND INVISIBLE ISLANDS ON THE BANGLADESH BORDER
A
ll borders are imaginary but some night. I saw a border pagalkhana for “Male
are more imaginary than others. Vagrants” whose inhabitants shuffled around like
According to India’s Department of zombies. They were beyond complaint.
Border Management this country’s And then I headed north to see the “chhit
shortest border is the 106-kilometre frontier with mahals”, the notorious archipelago of land-
Afghanistan. And that’s about all the Department locked enclaves of India and Bangladesh that
has to say about this border because, for more than are scattered through the adjacent districts of
half a century now, no one from this country has Cooch Behar and Rangpur in the two countries.
Kai Friese is a writer,
ever been there. It’s a territorial and cartographic absurdity
editor, and translator But last month I travelled along our longest that has somehow survived from (at least)
who likes to travel but border, the 4,096.7-kilometre stretch that encircles the Mughal era, through the rise and fall of
not on holiday. Bangladesh. The DBM has a great deal to say about the British Empire, the partition of India,
this, particularly about the ongoing task of fencing and the liberation of Bangladesh. There are
and floodlighting, which is slated to cover a length approximately 200 chhit mahals in all. Some
of 3,286.87 kilometres. “The Great Wall of India” are counter enclaves: an island of Bangladesh
is intended to prevent “illegal immigration and surrounded by India, surrounded by Bangladesh
other anti-national activities from across the (or vice versa), and one, called Dahala
border”. You can see it unfurling slowly through Kharagbari #51, is an Indian counter-counter-
the simmering green farmlands, turning the enclave or “third order enclave”. India, inside
territory into a map at last. Bangladesh, inside India, inside Bangladesh.
Travelling along the border I met activists Cartophiles love this stuff of course, though
who complained about the BSF’s brutality and the enclaves never show up in the everyday
farmers who complained that the BSF didn’t iconography of our national map. But then again,
shoot at smugglers anymore. I met a jawan with according to that map we have a 106-kilometre
a black eye who complained that the villagers border with Afghanistan.
were hand in glove with cattle smugglers and As for me, I set out in a taxi from Jalpaiguri
another who smiled sweetly and said what else after tapping open Google Maps on my phone.
can these people do? They’re so poor. I met As the image zoomed out, the serpentine line of
panchayat members who complained that the the border unravelled like a severed thread of
soldiers were in cahoots with smugglers and concertina wire until I could point out a vaguely
small-town politicians who said the border Cyprus-shaped patch labelled “Bangladesh” with
floodlights were keeping the crops awake at an Indian road running right through it.
In the end we had to stop to ask a paanwallah
“Where’s the chhit?” “This is it,” he said. “This is
#125 Kharkharia.”
I felt for a moment like a human counter
enclave, an Indian in Bangladesh, in India.
People here had lived their entire lives “in
India” but they weren’t entitled to ID cards,
rations, or any of the rights of citizenship. And,
of course, they had no contact with Bangladesh
which was a kilometre and a half away. Their
property could not be registered in Indian
courts so its value was one-tenth of the usual
local rate. All real problems, caused by an
utterly imaginary border.
But the good citizens of #125 Kharkharia had
learned to adapt to the territorial conundrum
they inhabited. All they needed to do was to buy
another scrap of land—literally a chhit—in India
PRASHANT PANJIAR
proper and they could soon have papers, IDs,

citizenship. Bangladeshi or Indian, people are a
lot more imaginative than the countries they may
or may not belong to.

Voices | BOOK OF HOURS
AMRUTA PATIL
Writer-painter Amruta
Writer-painter
Patil is Patil
Amruta the author
is the
of graphic
author novels
of graphic
Kari and
novels Adiand
Kari Parva.
Adi
Parva.Book
She is ofcurrently
Hours is
her travel journal.
writer-in-residence
at Villa Marguerite
Yourcenar, France.
ANAËL SEGHEZZI (AMRUTA PATIL)

Voices | GUEST COLUMN
ZEENAT NAGREE
Perfect Strangers
ALONE IN A NEW PLACE, A FICTIONAL LIFE SEEMS VERY REAL
“W
ould you like to travel with I can’t remember when I first began fabricating
me to Turkey? I’m going there details of my identity while talking to strangers
tomorrow. Just for a few days…” I’d meet while travelling alone. I realised it had
Ilham leaned forward, as he become a habit when on a recent trip to Fort
said these words, his face aglow with possibility. Kochi I found myself quoting different variants
Less than an hour earlier, this portly man of my life story to every curious stranger I met.
with a hooked nose was a stranger, just another Initially, I took to lying to protect myself. I sup-
customer in a crowded Kochi bar. We’d begun posed it didn’t make a difference to the waiter at
talking, and over the course of our conversation, a café whether I was Zeenat or Nina, if I’d moved
Zeenat Nagree is an
art critic who lives I’d learnt that he was a Baghdadi businessman around the country in my childhood or spent my
in Mumbai. She has living in Georgia. It wasn’t a good time for trade whole life in one city. But it helped me believe
written for Time Out in Iraq, he’d explained. One beer too many I was safe. Soon, the daydreamer in me began
Mumbai, ART India, seemed to have made him talkative. He began to see these harmless fibs as private adventures.
and Artforum. telling me about his youth, the trees around his Travel had begun to bring fiction into my life.
childhood home, and, alarmingly, about the illegal In Fort Kochi, with its palimpsest of cultures
methods he was using to make money in India. and communities, my fictive selves found a
During the course of our conversation, I told charming setting. Every stroll along the island’s
him that I really wanted to travel to Istanbul, to spice-scented streets, led to the revelation of
sit at a café by the Bosphorus. It was probably the imaginary worlds concealed in the sights. I
only truthful statement I made that night, as I found myself time-travelling as I looked at the
made up a life I’d never lived. In retrospect, our blue-and-white patterned tiles at the Paradesi
proximity in the dim, blue glow of that noisy bar Synagogue, the vivid mythological murals at
was a little too intimate. Normally, I’d have fled the Mattancherry Palace, or at moss-covered
from such a scene. But that day, I was pretending tombstones through the locked gates of the
to be someone else—an artist with a bohemian Dutch Cemetery. What if I’d been someone else?
life—and enjoying the fiction and conversation. Perhaps, a 17th-century Dutch explorer who had
died of an incurable illness in a faraway land?
Normally, I’d A Jewish trader fleeing persecution who found
home in an unlikely place? An ambitious princess
have fled from caught in the turbulent forces of invasion?
I’ve found that travel gives me an empowering
such a scene. anonymity. Away from the rigid expectations
But that associated with home, far away from the watch-
ful eyes of relatives and neighbours, I find myself
day, I was liberated simply because I’m elsewhere. Travel
pretending to allows me to inhabit a time capsule, a world in
which I can overcome my everyday hesitations,
be someone where normal rules about honesty in conver-
else—an sations do not apply. That evening in Kochi, after
exploring the island, I ended up in a shore-facing
artist with a bar. I had allowed myself to break the rules, to
talk to a stranger I’d normally keep away from.
GUENTER ROSSENBACH/FLAME/CORBIS/IMAGELIBRARY
bohemian life “Yes?” Ilham had prompted as I took the last

sip of my beer. At home, I rarely allow myself to
wander aimlessly, but here I was playing the role
of an explorer; I’d become someone else.
“So, will you come?” he asked again
“Tomorrow 8 a.m. by the jetty. And, maybe
Turkey afterwards,” I said before leaving.
I knew—and I’m sure he did too—that I wasn’t
going to Turkey the next day. But for a brief
moment, I had enjoyed believing that my life
could take an absolutely unpredictable turn if
I really wanted it to.

62
xx 54
xx
Navigate 30 38 40 70
mrmichaelangelo/shutterstock (pagoda), David Murray & Jules Selmes/Dorling Kindersley/getty images (salad)
insider geotourism local flavour national park
in phnom penh, the past still haunts bonito’s crystal-clear lagoons hyderabad’s mla pesarattu the barren and beautiful pin valley
Jason Dewey/Photodisc /Getty Images (hot springs), Marc Dozier/Corbis/Imagelibrary (buddha),
30
xx 68
xx
Navigate | the insider
Phnom Penh Crossroads

In the fast-forward Cambodian capital, the past still haunts
Text by Vaddey Ratner | Photographs by Palani Mohan
Badminton
at Neak Banh
Teuk Park.
“M
ama, do you see bustle during our stay, lizards André Malraux, intellectuals ATLAS
that echo?” my scaled the walls, and monkeys and explorers, archaeologists
daughter asked. still ventured from the frangipani and collectors, discussing in Phnom Penh,
“On the wall there, looking at trees to steal room keys and fruit these smoke-filled rooms what Cambodia
me.” She was three years old, and from poolside lounge chairs to pillage and what to preserve
it was her first visit to Phnom (the monkeys have since been in the fading days of the French
Penh, the city of my birth. “Why moved to the city zoo). The scene protectorate. And in the black-
are there so many in Cambodia?” recalled the verdant grounds and-white tiled hallway just
I followed her gaze, where of my own family estate in the outside, visitors peer into a
she had spied a gecko clinging middle of the city, where as a display case of elegant cocktail
to a high corner. In her inno young girl, I always had to be glasses commissioned for the visit Cambodia
has 27 public
cent mispronunciation, she’d on the lookout for sly characters of Jacqueline Kennedy in 1967. holidays a
touched on something I felt descending from the trees amid So much was destroyed in the year, including
was hauntingly apropos: the festive din of meal times in war and revolution that emptied Khmer New
Despite its breathtaking pace the garden. Phnom Penh of its residents Year, the king’s
of transformation, this is There are echoes too, of and plunged the country into birthday, and
still, for me, a city of echoes, generations before, as in the genocide in the 1970s that it is all Victory Over
Genocidal
reverberations of the past. Elephant Bar at Hotel Le Royal, the more striking that such fragile
Regime Day.
At the Hotel Le Royal, where where one can imagine the likes physical remnants should survive.
we’d taken refuge from the city’s of Somerset Maugham and Today one can stroll among the

Navigate | the insider
A wedding procession
makes its way along
the Tonle Sap river-
front; A seafood dish
at Malis restaurant
(bottom).
colonial mansions lining the of shops offering fine crafts, silks, Monkeys If you arrive early enough in
streets around the Royal Palace, and the uniquely Cambodian the cool morning hours, you
still
and visit the ornate iron pavilion concoction of Belgian chocolate will find the park here full of
assembled on the palace grounds sprinkled with Kampot pepper. ventured people. Young and old, rich and
as a gift from Napoleon III. Not far beyond, at the from the poor, ministers and students and
Across the way is the National convergence of boulevards frangipani street vendors, walking, playing
Museum, with its graceful multi- bearing the names of kings, rises badminton, catching a moment’s
tiered wooden roof that, for years the Independence Monument.
trees to rest, or exchanging stories before
housed a massive bat colony, Among my most precious steal room the start of another busy day.
bedevilling the efforts of curators memories, I recall, as a girl of keys and While the city is frenetically
trying to preserve the Angkorian four or five, walking here with my fruit rebuilding in what feels like a
sculptures below. father. He would tell me stories race to make up for lost time,
A few steps from the National that would stay with me in the this is a land of survivors, where
Museum, along a thoroughfare of ensuing years of chaos, stories I each of us is shadowed by our
family-owned galleries, is Reyum, would invoke in quiet moments own particular collection of
an arts collective that encourages during my struggle to survive. echoes. To the casual observer,
youths to give meaning to their the history of opulence and
troubled pasts by reinterpreting tragedy, artistic achievement
traditional forms of painting and and suffering compressed into
sculpture. Tucked in a side road just a few generations may feel
around the corner is the non- irreconcilable. Yet, for those
profit Friends restaurant, which willing to listen and inquire,
provides on-the-job training for the city is full of clues marking
young people, some of whom are junctures where our collective
former street children. A short histories intersect, places that
walk behind the palace brings remind us what we’ve lost, and
the visitor to Street 240, a row what might endure.

Navigate | take five
Food for Thought

Culinary pit stops that enlighten and entertain | By Neha Sumitran
O ur diets speak volumes of the lives we lead, whether they include roast pork, Roquefort,
or rajma-chawal. If our appetite for cheeseburgers reflects our pursuit of comfort, our
appreciation for the rich textures in a bowl of ramen is testament to enduring culinary traditions.
These galleries put our meals into context.
Shin-Yokohama Raumen Museum

Yokohama, Japan
Few culinary flourishes are as mesmerising as watching a
ramen chef hand-pull noodles. The deft display is among
the top attractions at the Yokohama “food amusement
park”, which traces the noodle’s journey from traditional
Chinese kitchens to supermarkets, where its instant
version grows in popularity every year. Instant ramen was
invented in 1958. According to a survey conducted by
the Fuji Research Institute in 2000, the Japanese public
believes it was the best invention of the 20th century
(karaoke comes second). At Shin-Yokohama, visitors can
noodle over exhibits on ramen history and stock up on
Japanese ingredients. A part of the museum is designed
like a street from 1958, with nine stalls that serve bowls of
steaming broth. Another section is dedicated to dagashiya,
traditional sweet shops that stock local sweets and toys
(+81-45-471 0503; raumen.co.jp/english; daily 11 a.m.-
kenichiro seki/xinhua press/corbis/image library (noodle-making), hilke maunder/alamy/indiapicture (bags)

10 p.m., except on public holidays; entry 300 yen/`175,
children under 12 and seniors over 60 years 100 yen/`58).
Mariager Saltcenter
Mariager, Denmark
Wonder what 250-million-year-old salt tastes like? Have a
lick at the Mariager Saltcenter in the picturesque Danish
town of Mariager. The museum explores civilisation’s
relationship with white gold, perhaps the only ingredient
that is ubiquitous in kitchens across the world, from frosty
Alaska to sultry Barbados. A tour of the Saltcenter begins
with an elevator ride that takes visitors to an underground
mine where they are shown how salt is collected. The mine
also doubles up as a cinema. Learn about the history of salt
(evidence of processing dates back 6,000 years), load up
on interesting facts (there are 35 grams of salt per litre of
seawater), and learn about its ritualistic significance (salt
features in Jewish and Islamic ceremonies). Round off the
trip with a soak in Mariager’s “Dead Sea”, a pool that rivals
the buoyancy of its namesake in Western Asia (045-9854
1816; saltcenter.com/english; Mon noon to 8 p.m., Tue-Sun
10 a.m.-4 p.m.; closed between 17 Dec and 2 Jan; entry
Danish Kroner 98/`1,056, children Danish Kroner 70/`755).

Navigate | take five
The Museum of Burnt Food

Arlington, USA
The Museum of Burnt Food celebrates decades of culinary
disaster with a collection of 49,000 charred exhibits,
including carbonised steaks, singed gyoza dumplings
(including coal-black ebony chopsticks), and a Hall of
Burnt Toast. The research institute—they’ve published
numerous papers on carbonisation—was set up by one-
time science historian and now Grammy-nominated
harpist, Deborah Henson-Conant, who ensures that the
exhibits are deadpan, hilarious, and fascinating all at once.
Popular installations include “Why, Sure You Can Bake
Quiche in the Microwave!”, “Thrice Baked Potatoes”, and
“Free Standing Apple Cider” (pictured), which Henson-
Conant made herself (burntfoodmuseum.com. Premises
are opened on request; email info@HipHarp.com).
Dutch Cheese Museum

Alkmaar, Netherlands
A half-hour train ride from the haze of Amsterdam is
Alkmaar, a town with a seriously cheesy history. Its 14th-
century dairy market is still popular, as is the town’s Dutch
Cheese Museum, which enlightens tourists on Gouda,
Edam, and other dairy icons of Dutch origin. Audio-visual
exhibits show visitors the journey from cow to cheese,
displaying how milk is curdled and why cheese is shaped
into circular wheels. It is the delight of geeky gourmets
and hungry travellers. On Fridays from April to Septe-
mber, porters with straw hats ferry cheese on wooden
barrows from the 14th-century weigh house, where the
museum is located, to the market outside (+31072-515
5516; kaasmuseum.nl; open Apr-Oct, Mon-Sat 10 a.m.-
4 p.m., Nov-Mar Sat 10 a.m.-4 p.m.; €3/ `240).
de agostini/getty images (charcoal exhibit), glow images/getty images (cheese porters),

Parque Nacional del Café
Quindío, Colombia
The perks are many at Colombia’s Parque Nacional del
Café. Visitors can ride cable cars over emerald Arabica
plantations, hike through a reserve for the protection of kaveh kazemi/contributor/getty images (park)
endemic bean varieties, even ride a roller coaster (hold

off on the coffee until later). The 30-acre coffee-themed
amusement park has a museum of exhibits on the world’s
most famous bean, but also offers other pick-me-ups
like bumper cars and horseback rides. Visitors can learn
about Colombia’s indigenous people, buy handcrafted
souvenirs, and taste brews from around the world as
they watch a choreographed dance depicting the history
of coffee, a story as rich as a steaming Colombian cuppa
(+38257-6744 9955; parquenacionaldelcafe.com; open
9 a.m.-4 p.m.; entry $23/`1,718).

Navigate | geotourism
Spotlight on Bonito
Bonito’s crystal-clear lagoons offer thrills to adventure divers—and help resuscitate
a fragile ecosystem | By COSTAS CHRIST
Into the Anhumas

Abyss in Bonito, Brazil.
I
t’s not easy to get out rivers filtered by limestone, that make up for any lack of ATLAS
from under the shadow this small enclave particularly luxury with local comforts, such
of a place like Brazil’s attracts outdoors lovers. Bonito’s as the hammocks and breakfasts Bonito, Brazil
Pantanal—a natural wetland rivers, such as the Prata, stage a at Pousada Galeria Artes,
bigger than England and home rare snorkelling experience—a sourced from a nearby ranch.
to a biodiversity bonanza of freshwater version of the Indeed, Bonito could be a case
such rare species as the tapir Caribbean, where aquatic plants study in the power of travel to
and the jaguar. Yet the town stand in for coral and teem with protect nature. Local tourism
of Bonito, on the Pantanal’s rainbows of fish. At the Anhumas and environmental councils
border, is emerging as one of Abyss, thrill seekers drop into a work hand in hand, as they Watch Bonito’s
Brazil’s favourite adventure tiny opening in the forest floor have for more than two decades, famed red-and-
green macaws
outposts, no longer the secret and rappel 236 feet to swim in to manage impact on the fragile roost at Buraco
of wayfarers who stopped crystalline waters underground. ecosystem and to support
CAIO VILELA
das Araras, a
here for rest en route to the After adrenaline-filled days, conservation efforts with 124-metre-deep
wetland. With its clear blue travellers retire to guest houses visitor revenue. sinkhole.

Navigate | local flavour
Party Favourite The fix
A cure for
Catch the MLA on Hyderabad’s breakfast menus Jet Lag?
Text by Aruna Chandaraju | Photograph by Swarat Ghosh
I consider travel an enlightening
experience, but it never occurred
to me that beams of light might
change the way we travel. Recently,
lighting scientists (yes, they
exist) have dissected the specific
wavelengths of electric light to
better understand how they affect
our bodies.
“Hotels will offer guest rooms
with lights that help us to get over
jet lag in a few hours instead of
days, spas will introduce treatments
using lights to strengthen and heal
our immune systems, and airport
‘Light Lounges’ will use spectrums
that promote mental alertness,
to get work done, or relax the
body for rest,” says Fred Maxik,
the founder of Lighting Science, a
company that is behind some of the
recent discoveries. There are good
implications for the environment.
This new lighting uses 80 per cent
less energy from fossil fuels than
incandescent lights and is non-
toxic. Wildlife may reap benefits,
Pesarattu is made with a batter of fresh green gram, or pesalu as the lentils are called in Telugu. The too. Beach resorts with floodlights
richer MLA pesarattu is stuffed with upma. that have disoriented nesting sea
turtles, can install beams that
I
n Hyderabad, politicking atlas
the dough is fresh, and hasn’t enable nature lovers to see the
isn’t limited to the state surrendered to fermentation. The turtles at night while tuning out
legislative assembly. It’s Hyderabad, filling is a simple semolina upma, harmful effects to the animals. Like
trickled down to menu cards too. Telangana seasoned with cumin seeds, finely all brave new technology, there are
One of the hot-selling breakfast chopped ginger and green chillies. some what-ifs to ponder. But the
items at the city’s eateries is the Score a table at Dwaraka Tiffins future looks bright.
MLA pesarattu: a crisp green- (Adikmet Road), a humble eatery —Costas Christ
gram dosa stuffed with upma, and popular takeaway, to see its
like the potato stuffing in a transition from runny batter to
masala dosa. Hyderabadi
a caramel-coloured dosa—the
The story goes that it was cuisine is restaurant’s tables are lined
invented decades ago by a known for its alongside an open kitchen.
creative cook at the canteen of fire power. You can also get it at Chutneys
the MLA quarters in Hyderabad. Stock up on (Kukatpally) and Kuchipudi
In an attempt to impress his VIP gongura (Somajiguda) that serve good
Colin Anderson/Blend Images/Corbis
customers, he created a richer, pachchadi breakfast fare. When all else fails,
more indulgent version of the (made of the look for an Udupi restaurant with
classic pesarattu (usually made sour sorrel the words “Bhavan” or “Tiffin” in
leaf), and
without the stuffing). The dish its name. Most of these fuss-free
korivi khaaram
caught on and is now served at (a spicy cafés have the VIP stuffed crêpe
street-side joints, in Telugu preserve that on their menus. Round off the
homes, even five-star hotels. translates meal with a steaming tumbler of
The MLA is best sampled to “flaming filter coffee and you’ll be fortified
first thing in the morning when chilli”). for the day.

Navigate | local flavour
Tokyo’s Hot Noodle Dish

COMFORT IN A BOWL OF RAMEN SOUP | By DAISUKE UTAGAWA
Preparing ramen
at Inoue.
W
hen someone wavy, are aged for up to ten days never varies: Wait in line, order, ATLAS
mentions ramen, in a cool place to achieve their squeeze into a seat, and slurp
you probably think peak flavour and texture. quickly so the next person can Yokohama,
of those store-bought dried It’s thought that missionaries take your place. Japan
noodles you bring to life with brought ramen from China to In Tokyo, locals line up at
boiling water and a packet of Japan in the 17th century. But it Inoue’s outdoor stand near Tsukiji
spices. In Tokyo, ramen noodle wasn’t until 1910 that Japan’s first Market for classic shoyu (soy-
soup is not fast food; it’s an art ramen shop—Rairaiken—opened based ramen), its golden noodles
BASIL CHILDERS/THE NEW YORK TIMES/REDUX
form. Complexly flavoured, the in Tokyo’s Asakusa district, an nestled in auburn broth and
perfect bowl of ramen combines area of merchants and artisans. topped with pork and bamboo
The noodles in
clear broth with wheat noodles, It served simple Chinese noodle shoots. Sixty-year-old Raishuken, one packet of
slices of roasted pork, seasoned soup modified with traditional in Asakusa, adds wonton-men to instant ramen
bamboo shoots, and chopped Japanese ingredients—dried fish, its menu, silky dumplings floating would stretch
green onions. This aromatic seaweed, and soy sauce. Today, over traditional ramen. In a the length of
stock—meat, vegetable, or the nation boasts more than 30 narrow alley in Jinbocho, the two tennis
seafood—contains up to 40 regional varieties of ramen, and tiny Sabuchan serves hanchan, courts.
ingredients and is simmered for nearly 4,000 places sell it in the ultimate ramen and fried
hours. The noodles, from thin to Tokyo alone. The dining routine rice combo.

Navigate | QUEST
Mergers and Acquisitions

TRAVELLING WITH GOA’S MANDOVI RIVER AS IT FLOWS INTO THE ARABIAN SEA | By ANURADHA GOYAL
to absorb the expanse of the

river as the twin bridges across
the Mandovi—one old, the other
newer—provided a backdrop for
the setting sun. Birds posed on
rows of bamboo poles that stood
in the river bed.
From there, I followed the
river’s journey to the Mandovi
Promenade in Panjim, where
locals and tourists were gathered
around a film shoot. The broad
paved pathway is lined with
benches and lamp posts, and
a parapet wide enough to sit
on to watch the river flow by
soothingly. As soon as the sun
vanished, multistorey casino
ships announced their presence
with large screens and glittering
lights. Colourfully lit boats carried
tourists on cruises down the river,
all of them blaring raucous music
Glittering cruise ships light up the waters of the Mandovi after dark; Kingfishers (below) are often performed by brightly dressed
seen on the bank of the river in the daytime, scouring its waters for small fish. bands on their decks.
The scene seemed like the part
I
moved to Goa a few months narrow roads, which were flanked ATLAS
of a wedding celebration before
ago and settled in Miramar by vast fields. A bevy of birds sat the bride leaves her parents’
in Panjim, close to the place on the electric wires. Brahminy Panjim, Goa home. It was as if all the people
where the Mandovi River merges kites, Indian rollers, green bee- who have lived by the Mandovi
with the Arabian Sea. Sitting on eaters, parakeets, kingfishers, had come to bid her goodbye. On
the beach one day, I wondered black drongos, cormorants, the far shore, bright hoardings
which part was river and which common hoopoes, and pond loomed like neighbours watching
the sea. I thought about the myths herons ruled the area. the proceedings from a distance.
associated with places where Narrow mud paths separated Beyond the promenade, a grove
water bodies merge, like Kanya- the river from its backwaters. of rain trees carve out a small
kumari, the meeting point of Fishing boats, nets piled high on lagoon from the river, a part of
three oceans, and Allahabad, them, rested here and there. As the Mandovi left behind as the
Salim Ali Bird
the sangam of three rivers. The the sun prepared to set, the birds Sanctuary on rest of it moves ahead to embrace
union of these liquid entities is came out in hordes, astonishing Chorão, one the sea. Little ahead, the Kala
considered auspicious. I decided me with their precise formations, of the two Academy, the state’s cultural
to trace the last leg of the Man- and unpredictable trajectories. islands on the hotspot, is witness to the last leg
dovi’s journey to the point where Ribandar is connected to Mandovi River, of the Mandovi. Just after this,
has a unique
its identity dissolves into the sea. Panjim by a three-kilometre-long the river loses itself in the sea. I
mangrove
DINODIA (CRUISE), ANURADHA GOYAL (BIRD)
I started 10 km east at the causeway that is nearly 400 years ecology and marked it as the point of union.
river’s bank in Ribandar. The old. The Mandovi flows serenely over 400 My journey ended at the beach,
old port town is now the base through its strong arches. Near species of where local boys were fishing for
for ferry services to the the southern bank there are birds. dinner. A basketful of silvery fish
river islands of Chorão salt pans where workers collect sat between them, waiting to be
and Divar. I took the white crystals and birds play divided. I shifted my focus back
ferry to Divar, a trip of a few in the water. Close by, fishing on the water. But no matter how
hundred metres that took me a enthusiasts tried their luck. Near hard I looked, I could no longer
few decades back in time. There the causeway’s western end, the tell which part was the river and
was nearly no traffic on the river gets marshy. My eyes tried which the sea.
Navigate | on foot
The Other Side of Italy

World War tales and snow-capped mountain views in the Dolomites | By JENNIFER WILSON
Hikers traverse the Via

Ferrata Tridentina in
the Italian Dolomites.
W
hen World War I broke ATLAS
to exchange family news with awards vistas of the massive
out, Italy’s Dolomites their relatives,” says hiking guide towers of the Cinque Torri. At
became a treacherous Dolomites, Italy Karin Pizzinini. As the world the base, an outdoor museum
front line for Austrian and marks the war’s centennial, preserving the World War I
Italian soldiers. Here among the travellers can explore the same headquarters of an artillery
jagged peaks and sheer pastel transport system. Anchored unit details the human side
walls of this ancient range of the cables bolster the original of war, from personal diaries
Alps, where many cultures had ladders, and local outfitters to tales of winter survival. All
coexisted for centuries, soldiers provide necessary gear and pair together, several museums
on both sides built networks of In 2010, a experienced guides with many and an 80-kilometre ski tour
bolted-down steel cables, called hiker found skill levels. Near the ski village commemorate the Dolomites’
the remains of
PATITUCCIPHOTO
via ferrata (iron path), to move a World War I

of Cortina d’Ampezzo (about a role in the Great War. Here, says
supplies quickly—and for other soldier frozen 3.5-hour trip by bus and train Pizzinini, “you can not only climb
missions, too. “Soldiers came into a glacier in from Venice), the beginner- the via ferrata but truly know
down the mountains at night the Dolomites. friendly Via Ferrata Averau why they’re here.”

Navigate | hidden gem
Tunnel Vision
the ground beneath jaipur’s regal forts | By Ambika Gupta
Given the countless tales of

subversion, plotting and royal
intrigue, this undercover channel
must have been used often. I
wonder how it must have felt
being escorted by the royal guard
centuries ago, moving urgently
in the echoing silence, heart
pounding, ears strained for the
sound of approaching feet.
Soon enough the tunnel opens
up and runs roofless, like a giant
paved pit with walls so high they
block all views save for the sky.
There is no landmark visible
to help me get my bearings but
the ascent indicates the pit is
going up Jaigarh hill. In about
20 minutes the 400-metre-long
tunnel has safely taken me under
Amer Fort. Golf carts stand ready
at Ganesh Pol, where the pit ends,
to ferry visitors the last 400-odd
The network of tunnels beneath Jaipur’s Jaigarh Fort were built in the 18th century, so the royal family metres to the gate of Jaigarh Fort.
could escape unscathed in case of an attack. The tricolour flutters above
the fort’s stern military garri-
I
stare at the two forts facing to symbolise a desperate human son. It is stark and has an actual
ATLAS
each other. Amer Fort act—an attempt to escape, to cannon foundry and the dusty
and Palace rises above the Jaipur, hoodwink oppressors. Jaivana, the world’s largest
highway, splayed on a hillock in Rajasthan Standing at the entrance of the cannon on wheels. It also has
leisurely multilayered splendour. passage, I feel like I finally have a bird’s-eye view of the surro
Jaigarh Fort is far away, yet it the chance to see and feel all this undings, from where I spot the
looks severe and forbidding atop for myself. I descend dimly lit toy-sized Amer Fort and count
a hill. It’s hard to believe that stairs and blink in surprise. the many other pits snaking up
the expanse of land between the The 18th-century tunnel is the hill. The aura that tunnels
two is riddled with underground brightly lit and spanking clean. have held for me has acquired
Jaigarh Fort
passages. In 2012, one of these The rock walls are smoothened another attribute: They’ve now
was built to
was opened to the public, protect Jaipur with plaster and the interiors come to represent the human
though few visitors know this. I and the Amer are roomy and cheerful, almost spirit and its yearning for
impatiently pass the crowds in Fort and Palace festive. The administration has freedom and fresh air.
the Amer Fort premises, making from rivals. Its spruced it up, even added a touch
my way to an innocuous, arched biggest asset of drama: Light fixtures resemble
opening in a wall.
was its vantage
point atop
old-fashioned fire torches, The Vitals
Images of dark, damp walls Cheel Ka Tila or mashaals. I half-expect a
crowd my mind. I imagine a delic- or the “hill waiter to pop up and usher me Jaigarh Fort, Amer Fort, and
iously whimsical passage with of eagles”. to my table for a “theme dining the tunnel are open daily
sharp bends and turns, widening experience”. Gravel does not 8 a.m.-5 p.m., except on nat
then narrowing to a crawl. As a crunch underfoot—the tunnel ional holidays. Entry to both
the forts is `25 each; there is
child, I believed tunnels held all has uniform proportions, neat
no additional charge for the
the adventures, hidden treasure, stairs, and a stone-paved floor. It tunnel. The golf carts that ferry
and glorious forbidden pleasures runs fairly straight too. I suppose
Anshika Varma
visitors between Ganesh Pol

of children’s storybooks. As I grew a passage meant to whisk away and Jaigarh’s entry gate charge
older, this illusion was replaced royals in case of an attack would `100 for a one-way trip.
by a gritty reality. Tunnels came have to be, well, regal.

Navigate | urban renewal
All Jazzed Up in West Africa

tales of Saint-Louis’s past, in the riveting language of jazz | By Douglas Rogers
Rocking the 21-stringed kora at

Senegal’s Saint-Louis jazz fest.
R
iverboats, wrought colonial homes crumbled into ATLAS
restoration and transformation
iron balconies, Creole the water. Recently, the city has of its pink and ochre row
culture, a famous jazz begun to re-emerge. The annual Saint-Louis, houses into hotels, inns, and
fest, and flamboyance in the face Saint-Louis jazz festival (usually Senegal galleries. A native Creole Métis
of hardship. Where else could held in June) is the biggest of businessman has resurrected the
this describe but... Saint-Louis, its kind in Africa, bringing 500 Bou el Mogdad, a river steamer
Senegal? Founded in 1659 on musicians to play in the central from the 1950s that again offers
an island in the River Senegal, square of the historic quarter. dinner cruises with live jazz into
this port town was once the After hours, revellers pack dimly Africa’s interior. According to
capital of French West Africa. lit cafés and bars off the square Marie-Caroline Camara, who
Then in 1902, France moved its for impromptu jam sessions. In Watch Saint- turned a 19th-century timber
Louis’s well-
regional base 560 kilometres 2000, UNESCO designated the warehouse into the chic Au
known Manjak
south to Dakar, and Saint-Louis island a World Heritage site, Fil de Fleuve guesthouse:
TOM JUNEK
weavers, and
eventually slipped into obscurity. which encouraged Senegalese buy local crafts “American visitors say we’re
Sometimes literally: Many of its emigrants to join locals in the at Atelier Tësss. like New Orleans.”

Navigate | detour
The Wunderbar of Weimar

Visit the town that captured the interest of Goethe, Nietzsche, and Wagner | By Jayne Wise
atlas
Weimar,
Germany
When in
Weimar,
channel your
inner Goethe
over wine
and boiled
beef at the
Zum Weissen
Schwan
restaurant next
to the poet's
house.
Weimar’s rococo Anna Amalia library, where Goethe served as director for 35 years.
W
eimar’s size has always as Johann Wolfgang Goethe bearing scars from the nearby
belied its moxie. When and Friedrich Schiller moved Buchenwald concentration camp.
a fire ravaged the gilt- here, establishing it as a centre Yet heritage runs deep, and
trimmed Duchess Anna Amalia of the German Enlightenment Weimar still holds the promise
Library in 2004, locals formed and building a reputation as of a place where thinkers can
a human chain to save historic Germany’s intellectual capital. alter the world’s cultural land-
masterpieces that included Franz Liszt, Richard Wagner, scape from the rolling hills of
Martin Luther’s 1534 Bible. A and Friedrich Nietzsche passed central Germany.
decade later, the book restorations through in the 19th century,
are finally nearing completion an era easily imagined while
and have ignited renewed strolling the cobbled streets. To The Vitals
GERHARD WESTRICH/LAIF/REDUX
interest in this German town of enter the Bauhaus Museum is

around 65,000 people that’s no to fast-forward into the radical Weimar is a town in central Germany, about 300 km/
3 hours from Berlin and 273 km/2.5 hours from
stranger to attention. Weimar 1920s, when Weimar upended
Frankfurt. It is well connected by bus and train and
first grabbed the spotlight in the worlds of politics, design, art, is popular with day tourists from the German capital.
the 1700s during the reign of architecture, even typography— For information on guided tours in Weimar,
the arts-loving Duchess Anna then receded into history as part visit weimar.de/en.
Amalia, when such luminaries of communist East Germany and

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The hotel’s 98 rooms and
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Navigate | culture
Shrine on in Indonesia
Indonesia’s Borobudur temple is the world’s largest Buddha shrine | By Suzanne Wright
Capturing Borobudur, a
Buddhist site in central
Java, in its best light.
T
wo hundred years ago, atlas
like a lotus blooming in muddy the stories Borobudur could
British statesman Sir water, that’s by design. Eighth- recount, including a 1985 bomb
Thomas Stamford Raffles Magelang, and ninth-century builders laid attack and the 2010 eruption of
rediscovered the sprawling Indonesia out the complex to mirror the nearby Mount Merapi. Volcanic
temple of Borobudur on a form of the sacred flower. ash rained upon Buddhas that sat
remote hilltop in Central Java, Erected during the Sailendra undisturbed in their bell-shaped
Indonesia, hidden under a tangle dynasty, which ruled the island stupas, protected by the original
of thick jungle. Today the shrine of Java for a hundred years, perforated chambers. As
endures as a symbol of quiet the temple consists of 72 stupas dawn breaks, visitors follow
FELIX HUG/GETTY IMAGES
resilience—the world’s largest along nine mounting terraces— schoolgirls in headscarves and
Buddhist temple, located in a It is tradition to a physical representation of the monks in saffron robes along
walk clockwise
country with a Muslim majority. around each
stages in the path to nirvana. the circular platforms. The
If the UNESCO World Heritage of the levels Nearly 1,500 bas-relief carvings prayerful walk is more than
site seems to rise above political before peeking of narratives from the epics 20 kilometres long and a
unrest and economic instability into the temple. scarcely scratch the surface of thousand years old.

Navigate | book extract
Tiger Fire
the past and present of the tiger through paintings, photographs, and personal accounts
By Valmik Thapar
W
e were back in Delhi, then spent some time explaining. dominant male cub, tougher and
the feel of the forest His experience had begun several fitter than his brothers and sisters.
still with us, odd months ago when he first set eyes He seemed more venturesome,
bits of information buzzing in on the tigress, whom we now confident and courageous,
our heads, waiting for our next decided to name Padmini. especially in our presence; we
opportunity, the call, as it were. The year in which her story decided to name the male cubs,
It came soon enough with the starts is 1976. Padmini was then Akbar, Hamir and Babar.
new year—1977. There was a ring a four-year-old tigress in the The female cubs were more
at the doorbell of my house—a Fateh Singh Ranthambhore Tiger Reserve of fragile: smaller than Akbar and
Rathore, whose
telegram for me, from Fateh Singh. Rajasthan and Fateh Singh was a shade smaller than Babar and
experiences
‘Come immediately,’ it said. It was form a part of
the assistant field director, when Hamir, they seemed definitely
a mad rush as Tejbir Singh and the book, was he sighted her in a very pregnant more delicate and feminine.
I organized ourselves to leave in India’s best state, her belly bulging hugely. This There was a slight difference even
the morning. We took the train known tiger is cause for great excitement to any between the two of them. The
conservati-
Aditya ‘Dicky’ Singh
and were met by an excited and field man in a forest: a new lot of smallest, whom we called Begum,
jumpy Fateh at the other end. His onist and a tiger cubs to be born. was not in the best of health and
member of the
first words (and I still remember ... gave us some worry. During our
first Project
them) were, ‘A tigress has been Tiger team. The young ones were of slightly first few glimpses, she was always
spotted with five cubs.’ Fateh Singh different sizes. There was one lagging behind the rest of the

Navigate | book extract
family. Poor little Begum—she was
part of a very natural phenomenon
in the wild where the youngest in a
family is totally dominated by her
brothers and sisters. It was obvious
that she was getting the smallest
share of the meat after a kill and
that she was the shyest, eating
last of all. It was a sad situation
and we were worried about her
chances of survival.
The other female, whom we
called Laxmi, was in much better
condition but always one step
behind her brothers.
Now that the entire family had
been identified, the complex task
of assimilating and analysing the
different behaviour patterns of
each member began. Normally,
much confusion could arise in
studying such a large family
and distinguishing one from the
other. What is important to note
is that Padmini, Akbar, Babar,
Hamir, Laxmi and Begum all had
different characteristics, facial
expressions and most important of
all, different markings. Tigers can
be distinguished by the markings dried riverbed next to which there We were evening, we tied a buffalo near
on their foreheads and around was a waterhole. The family had Lakarda to study the pug marks
the sides of their faces. This is a been extremely active here; it was
met by an and view the family closely. The
sure method of recognition. After very close to Lakarda village where excited time was 5 p.m. When we returned
taking a series of photographs, Padmini had first been sighted. and jumpy around 11 p.m., the buffalo was
it was possible to enlarge the We woke up with the dawn. The Fateh at dead and partly eaten. On hearing
face, study the pattern of stripes birds had started their chatter, the the sound of jeep, the family had
around the mouth and forehead morning was cold and crisp. We
the other moved away to a more secure
and slowly be able to tell the crept along the ground to the edge end. position in the grass.
difference between the members of the incline and looked below. His first Using our powerful searchlight
of the family. The stripes on the And there they were: Padmini words we identified Padmini sitting
body also vary considerably. walking through the grass even beside her female cub, Laxmi.
Our worst suspicions regarding before the first rays of the sun (and I still Nearby, with a slightly snarly
little Begum were confirmed were out behind her, with Akbar, remember expression on his face, sat
during the last week of February. followed by Babar and Hamir them) dominant Akbar. A little behind
In the evening, we had spotted and then Laxmi—but not a sign were Babar and Hamir. Of little
of little Begum. Had she got lost
were, “A Begum there was no sign. What
Padmini moving through the area
and had decided to camp out on somewhere or was it possible that tigress we feared had obviously happened.
the incline in the hope of seeing in the last week she had been has been Little Begum was no more; nature
some developments. This was unable to cope with the pressure spotted had eased her out. She had been
an important area for water and of living and had given up and let the littlest in the family and her
we felt the family might come to nature take its course? We kept
with five health was affected by her position
drink before their siesta during putting the thought out of our cubs” in the family hierarchy. She had not
the day. We had spent the night minds as we watched Padmini been able to get enough food and
at an observation post in the hope and her four young ones disappear had probably just wasted away.
of viewing the family in the early into the forest. There was still a
hours of the morning. It was a faint hope that Begum had strayed Valmik Thapar is India’s most
beautiful spot with patches of tall and might join them later. In any prominent tiger conservationist.
Kim Sullivan
grass interspersed with shrubs, case, we decided that this was an Tiger Fire: 500 Years of the Tiger
not thick enough to obstruct the important development and we in India was published in 2013
vision and right below us was a must somehow confirm it. So, by (Aleph Book Company, `2,995).

Navigate | experience
Ferry Thee Well

A Kerala backwater cruise for tourists in a hurry | By Sankar Radhakrishnan
beginning their day by washing

clothes, cleaning fish, and
mending nets. We have to pull
up by a makeshift pier for the
crew to fix a mechanical issue.
A passenger makes use of this
unscheduled stop to inspect a
fishmonger’s catch, and returns
with a handful of fish wrapped
in newspaper.
As the canal opens out into
Vembanad Lake, it’s easy to see
why Kerala’s backwaters lure
travellers. I feel like I’m in the
middle of a postcard, with green
fields that stretch into the horizon,
battalions of coconut trees
guarding the banks, and lotuses
blooming in water tinged gold
by the rising sun. It’s all rather
intoxicating. For a while, we’re
The Kerala
Caption backwaters
xxxxx are a complex
xxxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxx network of lakes,
xx xxxxxxx xxxxx canals, andxxxxxxx
xxx xxxxxx rivers spread
xxxxxover 900 kilometres.
xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx. escorted by a squadron of ducks.
At one jetty, a dog greets a man as
“T
he boat service is dying be the liquid highways connecting atlas
he steps off the boat and they head
out, you know,” says large parts of Kerala, and ferries off into the distance.
Raju, the driver of were the region’s mass rapid Alappuzha, As we get closer to Alappuzha,
the autorickshaw I am in. We’re transit systems, linking inland Kerala the waterways get busy and more
careening through the pre-dawn trading centres like Kottayam with people are waiting to board. At
darkness of Kottayam, heading Alappuzha on the coast. one jetty, a gaggle of scrubbed,
towards the “boat station” at My interest in the ferry though, giggling schoolboys get on. They
Kanjiram. I’ve just told him that I is personal: I’ve heard older prop themselves on the sills, and
plan to take a public ferry from friends and family talk about start discussing why this saipu
Kanjiram to Alappuzha on running errands or commuting to or “foreigner” is writing notes.
Kerala’s coast. “With more roads work on it. Ferries may no longer When I join the conversation
and bridges, there aren’t many be very popular, but they’re still a in Malayalam, there are half-
takers for the ferry. It’s quite slow, window into the region; a window The Vembanad- embarrassed smiles all around.
you know,” he explains, perplexed I want to open. Kol Lake est Soon, the boat is as crowded
by my interest. But when I tell him I’m woken up from my reverie uarine system as the Metro at rush hour. And
I’m a writer he exhales in under- by the voices of people trickling harbours 90 suddenly, we’re in Alappuzha town
species of
standing, as though all is revealed. on board. Several carry plastic inching through water hyacinth
resident and
As dawn breaks, Raju drops sacks bulging at the seams, while 50 species of and trash towards the main boat
me off at the Kanjiram jetty, an others are armed with fishing rods migratory birds. station. It is a little after 9.30 a.m.
asbestos roof shed with a small and nets or farm implements. and I’ve had a lovely morning on
concrete pier, the terminus for the Almost everyone seems to have the backwaters for a mere `16.
daily Kottayam-Alappuzha boat a newspaper. Most passengers
service. I’m early for the day’s first seem to be regulars. Greetings
departure at 7.15 a.m., so I sit on a are exchanged and a few swap The Vitals
ledge and study the ferry, a squat, tales about farm workers playing
wooden workhorse that looks like truant. And then, with a toot or A one-way Kottayam-Alappuzha trip on the state-run
ferry takes a little over two hours and costs about
it’s been around for a while. two, we’re off.
`16. Ferries depart at regular intervals from 7.15 a.m.
Today, houseboats prowl Ker It’s a beautiful early summer to 5.45 p.m. It’s best to confirm the schedule with
ala’s backwaters, spread across morning, the sun is still a baby, the station masters at Kottayam (94000 50371) and
dinodia
Kottayam, Alappuzha, Kochi, and and there’s a cool breeze. Along Alappuzha (94000 50324).
Kollam. These waterways used to the waterways people are

Navigate | experience
Bare Necessities
Skinny-dipping can be a soul-stirring experience | By Mishana Khot
Still, it was a picture-perfect

night with shining stars studding
a velvety blue sky. We decided
to make the most of it, quickly
changing into our swimsuits. Our
breath formed little white puffs as
we scurried to the pools and took
flying leaps into the water.
Our limbs thawed instantly
and as our eyes grew accustomed
to the darkness we realised that
most swimmers were in the
nude. Now and then, the careless
swing of a flashlight would set off
squeals of protest. The moonlight
glinted on a bare bottom as it
twinkled past in the night.
I blame it on the steam. I
think it made me light-headed.
Whatever it was, it made us
want to share the experience. We
quietly slipped our swimsuits
off and floated in silence for
Colorado’s springs are very popular with winter tourists, who come for the frosty views and the luxury a couple of minutes. The
of soaking in naturally heated rock pools. uneasiness of being nude faded
quickly. The stars shone above,
S
easoned travellers will tell We were headed high above atlas
the snow gleamed around us,
you that the only way to the main town lined with wood- and the soft sounds of people
travel is to immerse yourself fronted sports equipment shops, Colorado, laughing rippled the air. I leaned
in a local culture. But what if to Strawberry Park Hot Springs, U.S.A. my face against the side of the
the local tradition is skinny- an ideal spot for stargazing. The pool, spreading my arms to hug
dipping at night—with a group online reviews warned us that the the rock, silently thanking the
of strangers? For shy Indians lodge’s residents sometimes go universe for this moment.
like me, such an adventure skinny-dipping after hours, and As the warmth of the rocks
requires a long mental leap. Even that guests were expected to use seeped into my bones, tears
when we go swimming, many torches and lamps sparingly to inexplicably sprang to my eyes.
of us wear modest swimsuits to maintain discretion. We laughed Steamboat With them came an epiphany:
ensure our bodies are properly it off on account of the freezing Springs is a Despite being adults, all human
favoured ski
covered. Understandably, skinny- weather. Little did we know. destination.
beings can experience the
dipping hadn’t really crossed my Strawberry Park’s hot springs In winter, the innocence of a child, if only we let
mind—until I got to Steamboat were edged with snow. In the town hosts go of our self-consciousness.
Springs, Colorado. rock pools, travellers soaked in competitions As I pondered this, I heard
My partner and I crossed the water (clad respectably in for ski racing a stranger cough as he glided
the Colorado state border the swimsuits), chatting softly, or and jumping, past. And just like that the self-
and dog
day an early snowstorm had silently contemplating the pine consciousness returned: What if
sledding.
visited, fringing the land with trees that rose all around. We he bumped into me? What if he
jason dewey/stone/getty images
frost. Steamboat Springs is an went for a midday dip, enjoying wasn’t wearing anything? Worse,
atmospheric little ski town that the crisp mountain air and warm what if he was clothed, when I
gets its name from the hot springs water before climbing out to was skinny-dipping?
in the craggy mountainside. Early grill hot dogs for dinner. As “Uh… don’t come too close”
explorers thought the gurgling night fell, the temperature I quavered. “I’m not...um…
sound of the water was the plummeted. I could barely feel I’m naked.”
chugging of steamboats on the my fingers and stomped my feet “Don’t worry honey,” he replied.
Yampa River nearby. to keep the numbness at bay. “All of us are.”

Navigate | the trend
The Quickening Pulse of Peru

In Lima, the food and art scenes beat fast and furious | Text by Gary Lee | Photographs by Elie Gardner
Central restaurant’s take on lamb cannelloni (left); Victoria Bar, in a handsomely restored Barranco mansion, captures Lima’s vibe (right).
L
ima is in full throttle. other Amazon-inspired dishes ATLAS
stage changes too, to Barranco.
Lunch rolls seamlessly at Ámaz. I have watched many This ocean-side hood’s hot
into dinner. Dancing keeps a casual restaurant meal turn Lima, Peru spot of the moment: Victoria
going long after last call. Across into Babette’s Feast. At Pescados Bar, with its signature cocktail
the 2,800-square-kilometre Capitales, a couple tucking into Frida—camu camu juice and
sprawl of Peru’s capital, from the lunch morphed gradually into a jalapeño-infused tequila, spicy
working-class Chorrillos barrio multigenerational gathering of and seductive. Young Peruvian
to highbrow San Isidro and along two dozen, with platters of citrus- writer Ezio Neyra and a couple of
the glorious Pacific coastline, marinated sole, tuna, and salmon, friends opened Victoria last year
pure urban exhilaration reigns, and mounds of langoustine- Peru grows over in Casona Cillóniz, a handsomely
and just about all of the 8.8 stuffed yellow potatoes, accom- 50 varieties restored 1903 Barranco mansion.
million inhabitants are caught panied by glasses of pisco sour, of corn. In It captures Lima’s vibe of the
bustling food
up in it. Peru’s liquid nirvana. And even moment: a dynamic forging of
markets, you’ll
A decade-strong food boom, before the cake made with see baskets traditional spaces and cutting-
centred in the Miraflores lúcuma—an exotic Andean piled high with edge ideas. “It’s as if Lima is in a
neighbourhood, fuels the city. fruit—arrived, someone was on yellow, purple, state of permanent construction,”
Local foodies had barely begun his cell phone, reserving a table white, and Neyra tells me.
drooling over Central chef Virgilio for tomorrow’s lunch at another black corn. In the wee hours, El Círculo
Martínez’s sea bass with crab of the famous sevicherias. offers a range of live music acts,
and noodles when Pedro Miguel As the evening lengthens, from cumbia to reggae and
Schiaffino started turning heads the hunt shifts from food to the pop, in a cavernous space for
with his fried green bananas and newest bar or band. And the dancing. Nuevo Peruvian cuisine

Navigate | the trend
The gold-hued government palace and the spired Lima Cathedral line Plaza Mayor (top); Art exhibits (bottom) in Casona Cillóniz.
The the cajón and other musical

instruments, and explains why
churches
Afro-Peruvian musicians have
and had such a profound impact on
casonas Peruvian music.
around The Pacific Coast, kissing the
city’s edge for miles, gives us all
the Plaza respite. I often stroll along the
Mayor, cliffs. The breezy ocean views are
gaudy half the appeal. The other half:
with their green spaces along the way, such
as Parque Maria Reiche, with
baroque its floral depiction of the Nasca
facades, lines, the ancient geoglyphs in the
evoke the southern Peruvian desert.
Some Limeños surf right off the
days when
and after-hours clubs aside, I wander through the El Museo beach at Barranco or escape to
this Spanish-founded city’s long del Convento de San Francisco, Spanish Playa Pulpos or other beaches an
and rich history is what gives with its catacombs lined with viceroys hour or two south. But most just
it character. The churches and bones, a library with 25,000 held sway find a favourite ocean-side perch,
casonas (mansions) around historic tomes, and an elaborate like the flower-filled Parque
the Plaza Mayor, gaudy with Moorish-style cupola. The Domodossola, to watch the sun
their baroque facades, evoke nearby National Afro-Peruvian sink into the sea. It’s a moment to
the days when Spanish viceroys Museum explores one of colonial savour. When darkness falls, this
held sway. I discover some Peru’s lesser known chapters. urban giant will rise with a jolt
surprising new detail every time The room I like best displays and start moving fast.

Navigate | taste of travel
Seeing Red
The Niçoise tomato is ripe with the flavours of the Mediterranean town | By Diya Kohli
There is something about the

tomatoes in these parts that
complements the innate style
of the breezy seaside town. I
contemplate this association
as I watch gorgeous women in
designer hats walking down the
seaside Promenade des Anglais
with their little dogs. Sleek cars
in shades of the tomato glide up
to the porch of the dazzling Le
Negresco hotel. In the distance,
azure waters glitter invitingly.
Part French, part Italian, and all
Mediterranean, Nice’s beautiful
people enjoy bohemia as much as
manicured indulgence.
The backpacker and the
luxury traveller jostle for space
at the same cafés in vibrant Old
Town. Art enthusiasts follow
the Henri Matisse and Marc
Chagall trails. Worshippers of
haute couture pay their respects
at designer boutiques, while the
hipster lot trawl street stalls for
In Nice, stock up on food souvenirs at the historic Cours Saleya Marché, but also visit the less touristy quirky, vintage clothing. There
(and more affordable) Liberation market. are Michelin-star meals to be
had, but there are also historic
I
first saw Niçoise tomatoes in ATLAS
an abundance of red, and every open-air markets like Cours
an air-conditioned gourmet sandwich is generously filled with Saleya, that are a treat for lovers
store in our home town of Nice, France tomatoes. It is the star ingredient of the tomato.
Bengaluru. They were swaddled in several specialities of Cuisine It has been some time since I
in paper tissue and had a label Nissarde, as the fare of the French returned from Nice. Memories of
that said they were “vine- Riviera and Nice is known. that vacation have since softened
ripened”. I felt like I’d discovered My husband and I feast on from the sharp clarity of a photo-
a rare postage stamp from an fresh seafood platters, luscious graph to the fluid strokes of an
unknown country. I picked up local fruit, cured meats, and impressionist painting. But I still
a couple of these prohibitively The Matisse all sorts of tomatoes. Even the remember the tomatoes, and a
expensive beauties, sniffed in museum simplest dishes are delicious. single moment that I chose to
in Nice has
their tart aroma, and made a The coeur de boeuf (or bull’s preserve by scribbling a line on a kevin summers/photographer's choice/getty images
one of the
mental note to google “Nice”. world's largest
heart; a variety of tomato) ticket stub.
A month later and thousands collections of doused in virgin olive oil, with “This is our first day at the
of kilometres away, here I am, the painter’s fresh mozzarella, cracked beach,” the note says. “The wind
in an old market fringed by the works. The pepper and sea salt, is a lesson is in my hair, the sun warms my
azure Mediterranean, staring French artist in simplicity. Then there is the face, my toes curl against the
at tomatoes again. From dwarf spent much of Salad Niçoise, a French culinary smooth pebbles under my feet.
his life in the
green variants to oversized and icon and a personal favourite. There is a fromage-and-heirloom-
seaside town.
ridged red specimens, the food Tuna, anchovies, sun-ripened tomato platter balancing on my
stands in the Cours Saleya market tomatoes, black olives, artichokes, knees, a glass of bubbly within
are exploding with the fruit. fava beans, and hard-boiled eggs arm’s length. The man I love is
August is tomato season on the come together in a symphony of sunning himself by my side. I
French Riviera and every dish is flavours that is an ode to the sun think Nice is going to be quite
liberally sauced, every salad has and sea. lovely indeed.”

White stone
Cottages
Sairopa, Tirthan Valley,
Near GHNP (World Heritage), Dist Kullu
home away from home
White Stone Cottages lies in the eco-zone of the Great

Himalayan National Park.
Cottages are on the banks of the Tirthan river and offer the
perfect environment for relaxation and meditation as well
as active pursuits. There’s a fully functional sauna and
steam room. Trekking trips in eco zone of GHNP, Trout
fishing and nature walks call be organised on request.
E-Mail: wsckullu@gmail.com, whitestonecottages@gmail.com

Contact: +91 8894077556, 9816677556, 8968172605
Address: Vill. Sairopa, V.P.O Ghaidhar, Tehsil-Banjar,
Dist. Kullu-175123. Himachal Pradesh-INDIA
Website: www.whitestonecottages.smartigo.com
Navigate | national park
Life at the Top

A rich mix of wildlife thrives in the barren landscape of the Pin Valley National Park
Text by Tushar Abhichandani | Photographs by Dhritiman Mukherjee
The snow leopard’s pale yellow coat is the perfect camouflage in the stark, rocky terrain of Pin Valley.
T
he Pin Valley is as harsh snow-capped, snow leopards shepherds have created numerous atlas
as it is beautiful. Located keep a look out for ibex, and trails through the park, getting
in Himachal Pradesh’s gigantic bearded vultures circle a guide is advisable. You can Pin Valley,
Lahaul-Spiti district, the high- the peaks looking for smaller hire one, as well as porters and Himachal
prey. Pin Valley’s remote location Pradesh
altitude desert’s rocky terrain, camping gear at Mud. Due to
bone-chilling temperatures and harsh weather attracts fewer the altitude, even short hikes
(-20°C in winter), and sparse tourists than most other national are physically taxing and require
vegetation render it practically parks. Those who do make the moderate fitness levels. Longer
unlivable. But nature thrives. trek are treated to stunning, treks include the four-day
Thanks to the waters of the stark landscapes that are a Bhabha-Pin trek that starts
Pin, Khamengar, and Parahio fitting canvas for the region’s south of the national park at the Tabo Monas
rivers, the region sustains flora unique wildlife. Rupi Bhabha Wildlife Sanctuary tery (65 km/
and fauna that is rich, rare, and and traverses the southeastern 3 hours from
diverse. Its lower alpine scrub Explore region of the national park. The Mud) near
the park is
forests and alpine pastures are Mud village is the gateway to the more popular and exhausting the oldest
inhabited by Tibetan gazelles and park. No vehicles are allowed Pin-Parvati trek spans eight inhabited Bud
Himalayan red foxes. At loftier inside and the only way to explore days. It begins at Kullu, crosses dhist enclave
heights, which are perennially the area is on foot. Even though the Great Himalayan National in India.

Fire-fronted serins (top left) are often seen hopping about in the scrub forests and grassy patches; With their long body and small limbs,
mountain weasels (top right) can be spotted scurrying across the rocky terrain; Great rosefinches (bottom right) foraging for seeds are a
common fixture on the valley’s barren slopes; The red fox (bottom left) is easily sighted because of its preference for living in the open.
Park, ascends to the Pin-Parvati The snow inhabited by the Tibetan wolf, their most active. The Himalayan
Pass, and ends at the Pin Valley Tibetan gazelle, red fox, and the snowcock’s motor-like piping
leopard
National Park. Himalayan brown fox. Further up, calls resound through the
is the Himalayan blue sheep or bharal valley, but trekkers rarely catch
Animal Life park’s star rest in the rocky upper reaches a glimpse of the bird. Easier to
The snow leopard is the park’s attraction, of the mountains. Many of Pin spot are yellow- and red-billed
star attraction, but due to their Valley’s animal residents spend choughs, members of the crow
dwindling numbers and shy
but due the winter in the lower regions family. They feast on insects
nature, spotting one is rare. Its to its shy and migrate to higher altitudes and worms near grass patches,
prey, the Siberian ibex, is more nature, when the ice begins to melt. alongside pigeons and common
commonly seen. Herds of these spotting sparrows. But it’s the predators
wild goats with curved horns Bird Life that are the park’s most picture-
can be spotted grazing on grassy one is The sparse vegetation of Pin worthy dwellers. Kestrels (part
slopes. Winter is the ibex’s mating rare Valley comes alive in July and of the falcon genus) scour the
season, and males lock horns to August. This is also when the skies waiting to swoop down
impress mates. The valley is also park’s winged residents are at on marmots. Bearded vultures,

Some Buddhist communities have inhabited the area for centuries and continue to cultivate small tracts of land within the park.
which have a wingspan of up to Stay is also the more treacherous

Tip
nine feet, also stalk these hunting Day trippers usually stay at and scenic Manali-Rohtang Pass-
grounds, along with the golden hotels in Kaza, which has several Kunzum La route, which is open
It is important
eagle, known to be among the accommodation options. There only from July to October. Kaza
to carry food,
fiercest of avian pursuers. are guest houses in Gulling water, and a
is well connected to Manali (10
and homestays in Mud village. first-aid kit hours) and Shimla (12 hours) by
Seasons Trekkers can camp in the park while trekking bus but schedules are unreliable.
The park is most easily accessible or stay in lean-tos, which are through Pin Travellers can also take taxis
in summer (May-Oct) when day wooden shelters built by the Valley as there from Kaza to Mud and from
temperatures are around 20°C. forest department. There are are no supplies Manali to Mud.
available within
Nights are still cold however, and lean-tos every 10 to 15 kilometres
the park.
the mercury sometimes falls as on the regular trekking routes. Nights can need to know
low as 2°C. August is a good time Accommodation is free and on a be extremely Indians do not require a permit
to visit as the weather is pleasant first-come, first-served basis. chilly, even in but need to show valid photo
and the region’s flora is at its the summer. identification. There is no entry
colourful best. While the park is Getting There Carry adequate fee. Foreigners can acquire a free
warm clothing
open throughout the year, heavy The entry point, Mud village, is permit from the Divisional
and cold-
snowfall in winter (Nov-Apr) 439 km/10 hours from Shimla, weather Forest Officer at Kaza or Reckong
makes the route to Spiti hard to which is the closest railhead. The sleeping bags. Peo, which is five hours from
navigate. Temperatures can be closest towns are Gulling (17.5 Mud. Permits can also be
as low as -30°C. Despite weather km/1 hour) and Kaza (49 km/ arranged in advance through a
conditions, researchers and 2 hours). The nearest airport is at travel agent. Some parts of the
wildlife enthusiasts prefer visiting Kullu (300 km/7 hours). By road, park are closed to foreigners
the park in November and there are two routes. The Shimla (call the Divisional Forest
December when the snow leopard route via Reckong Peo is more Officer on 094180 87664 for any
descends to lower altitudes. frequently used. However, there additional information).

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Navigate | the concept
Canada’s Rocky Mountain High

Icy views, and the occasional grizzly, at Jasper National Park | By KIMBERLY BUTTON
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In Focus | return to roots
An equestrienne rides side-

saddle in traditional rodeo
style at Rancho Santa Emilia,
just outside San Miguel de
Allende, Central Mexico.

mexico
My Granny,
the Rebel
On the trail of a revolutionary

ancestor in central Mexico
Sto ry a n d p h oto g r a p h s by P e t e r M c B r i d e
July 2014 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA 83

XXXXXXXXXXXX (XXXXXXXXX)
In Guanajuato’s Jardín de la Unión, a

young mariachi riffs on the guitar while
his grandfather drums up their next gig.

mexico
marimba music lilts outside in this
colonial city of querétaro. in the
sun-splashed library room, shelves
crammed with bound parchment paper,
leather journals, and government letters sit

against walls hung with Catholic relics and oil
paintings cracked with age. What I don’t see
are temperature and humidity control devices.
Better not cough, I think; centuries of Mexico’s
written record could be reduced to dust. It’s two
weeks into my ancestral scavenger hunt through
Mexico’s central highlands. My quarry, Josefa
Ortíz de Domínguez, has thus far eluded me. But
now, perhaps, pay dirt?
David Saavedra Vega, the librarian here for 30
years, greets me. Of course he’s heard of Josefa:
Known as La Corregidora, she remains the hero-
ine of Mexico’s 19th-century War of Independ-
ence against Spain. She was also the mother of 14
children. Saavedra smiles and says he might be
able to help.
Within minutes, he brings me a pile of hand-
written letters dated 1806. The G’s and Q’s
swirl flamboyantly. I imagine the arching feath-
ers that penned them. Stamped on the letters
signed “Miguel Domínguez, Corregidor”—Josefa’s
magistrate husband—are Spanish government
seals. Moments later, Saavedra returns to my table
and hands me a thick book. It is an account of the
family’s offspring. The (grand) mother lode.
For generations, my family has boasted about
our connection to Mexico’s great revolutionary.
Without Josefa’s courageous involvement, the
story goes, Mexico’s independence would likely

Crumbling books and manuscripts
line the shelves of Querétaro’s
Museo Regional, an erstwhile
Franciscan monastery. It is here
that the author goes to learn more
about his family history.

mexico
have been delayed. (After 11 years of war, the Spanish overlords into a historic stretch of road. On September 13, 1810, a rider
had no choice but to hand over the reins to the Mexicans.) My galloped some 64 kilometres from Querétaro to San Miguel.
pride in Josefa’s role aside, I credit her for my passion for Latin He carried an urgent message from an activist named Josefa—
culture, food, and rhythms. I also suspect she is the root of a María Josefa Cresencia de la Natividad Ortíz Téllez-Gíron de
rebellious streak that has coursed through my veins since I was Domínguez, to be precise.
born. I want to know her better. No one knows the exact words in that note, but history got
I open the book. I think of my grandfather, who introduced the message: Begin the revolution. Now. In 1810, fed up with
me to our family’s famed forebear. Years ago, he gave me a the second-class treatment of Mexico, Josefa and her revolu-
faded Mexican 20-peso bill with Josefa’s portrait. I carry it tionary associates hatched a plan from her Querétaro home to
with me now. liberate Mexico from Spanish rule. But word of the plan leaked,
and Spanish officials began rounding up the conspirators. Jose-
My search begins in the bustle of Mexico City, where fa’s husband, Miguel, aware of his wife’s activities and wishing
splashy murals, oversized plazas, and a friendly vibe might have to protect her, locked her up in their home. She managed to slip
distracted me for days. But I am eager to head north to the Ruta her note through the keyhole to a rider. That simple act toppled
de la Independencia, a series of winding mountain roads that the first domino in what would come to be known as Mexico’s
connect San Miguel de Allende, Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato, War of Independence. My plan is far less ambitious: Follow
and Querétaro—all key to Mexico’s history. Josefa’s footsteps, absorb everything related to the Mexican
Some two hours north of Mexico City, I drive down a cactus- Revolution—and consume some mole along the way.
covered hill as the radio crackles to life with the accordion- In San Miguel, I find a culturally rich town with a dash of arty
heavy strains of norteño music. On the road’s shoulder ahead, Santa Fe sensibility, sweeping views, secret alleys, and music-
three charros (cowboys) move a herd of loose-skinned Brah- soaked plazas, but I uncover nothing about my ancestor. An
man cattle, clouds of dust chasing their horses. Over the next invitation to a rodeo at a local ranch offers balm for my frustra-
hill, on the outskirts of the prosperous city of Querétaro, I turn tion. Rancho Santa Emilia is an elegant nod to the 1800s, down
A ghoulish trio celebrates El Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, in Guanajuato.

Josefa’s message
reached Father Miguel
Hidalgo. His sermon
served as a rallying
cry: pick up arms,
march south, and send
the Spanish home

mexico
Guanajuato’s many colours glow

in late afternoon sunshine.

to such details as horse stalls crafted with hand-hewn timbers. town at dusk. Murals of skeletons made from collared sawdust
When the rodeo starts, I watch another century swirl before me. have magically appeared on the pedestrian streets. One looks
Sombrero-clad charros gallop through explosions of red earth to be a rendition of Hidalgo with Josefa in the background. But
as escaramuzas (horsewomen) ride side-saddle in swishy Span- I’ve seen enough statues and paintings. I want the real Josefa. It
ish dresses. Bulls snort and mariachis trumpet. is time to visit her home in Querétaro.
A man in the audience stands, toasts the rodeo, downs a This is not my first visit to this colonial city. Twenty years ago,
tequila shot, and begins to sing a ballad of the broken-hearted. I’d applied for a college semester abroad in Spain. I was turned
His deep baritone carries a haunting nostalgia that seeps into down—and ended up here instead. En route from Mexico City by
my bones. Then, a 12-piece mariachi band jumps in and violins train, I opened a package my grandfather had given me. In it were
pierce the air. The din captivates the crowd. Dust clings to the the 20-peso bill with Josefa’s portrait, a bundle of letters, a hand-
sweat on my face, and I am swept back into the 19th century scribbled family tree, and a typed note: “Peto—I am delighted to
and thoughts of Josefa. know you are going to Querétaro. You are headed to the centre
On September 15, 1810, Josefa’s message reached a co- of your family’s history.” During my four months of study here, I
conspirator, Father Miguel Hidalgo. At 6 a.m. on September tried to uncover some family lore, but limited language skills and
16—celebrated as Mexico’s Independence Day—Hidalgo rang a young adult’s attention span hindered my quest.
his church bell and delivered a sermon that would serve as the Today, Querétaro appears to be twice the size I remember.
people’s rallying cry. It was time to pick up arms, march south, I quickly find Calle Corregidora and turn toward the centro
and send the Spanish home. histórico, weaving through vaguely familiar blocks until I reach
By car from San Miguel it takes me 30 minutes (half a day La Casa de la Marquesa. Located a few steps from the central
by horse in 1810) to reach the plaza of the blue-collar pueblo plaza, the hotel is the perfect base for my explorations. My
of Hidalgo. Children’s laughter rings out. Edging the plaza is a room’s name: Doña Josefa. No kidding.
school, El Colegio La Corregidora. Metal etchings and bronze I walk the streets, engulfed in a sense of déjà vu at every
busts of La Corregidora surround the building. In the
centre of town I find statues of Father Hidalgo and
Josefa. I visit the small parish church where Hidal- A man stands, toasts the rodeo,
go exhorted his flock—mostly peasants—to become
an army. Outside, a young woman, eyes clenched downs a tequila shot, and begins
shut and brow furrowed, belts out a heartfelt solo.
I ask her what the song means. “It is about love and to sing a ballad of the broken
freedom,” she says. hearted. His deep baritone
I push on toward Guanajuato. The road—all curves
and bright views of La Sierra Gorda—is nearly empty. carries a haunting nostalgia that
I encounter few vehicles, mostly weathered trucks.
Their drivers wave me on. Within an hour, glimpses
seeps into my bones
of Guanajuato’s candy-collared architecture flash
past as I head into the city. corner. The statue of Josefa looming over the Jardín de la Cor-
In late September 1810, Hidalgo hurried his ragtag wagon regidora looks more vibrant than I recall. Busloads of school
train of rebels along the route I now drive. They reached Gua- kids funnel through to pay homage to this woman, who is “more
najuato and solidified the revolution in a surprise and successful popular than ever, thanks to the Internet,” a teacher tells me.
attack on the Spanish barracks. Less than a year later, in Chi- Restaurants and chic bars fill what were ghostly streets when
huahua, Hidalgo and his cohorts were captured and executed. I studied here years before. And just as I’d encountered in every
To thwart further insurgent activity, the Spanish displayed the town along La Ruta de la Independencia, live music bubbles
heads of Hidalgo and his three lieutenants in cages suspended from many an open door.
on the corners of a granary. The gory symbols only strengthened I climb to the city’s aqueduct overlook. Just above sits Queré-
revolutionary resolve. I walk through the granary, now an open- taro’s pantheon. Here Josefa, her husband, Miguel, and other
air museum. I come upon a mural of Hidalgo’s caged head. His heroes from the fight for Mexican independence lie entombed.
burning eyes follow me. I overhear two women discussing the revolution. I ask them
Back outside, I stroll a maze of alleys and tunnels that create about Josefa. The shorter of the two looks at me, cups her right
an atmospheric blend of Spain and Mexico. It is 1 November, El hand low by her crotch, moves it up and down, and grins. I
Día de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead), the first of two days understand the gesture perfectly.
of countrywide celebrations. When I reach Jardín de la Unión, I “Huevos,” she says, “huevos grandes.”
see skeletons wandering the square. A clown makes people howl The taller of the two shakes her head. “I don’t agree,” she says.
as mariachis keep the beat. At Casa Valadez, off the plaza, I sit “She was just doing her duty.” Little do they know they’re talking
down to a Caesar salad with a blue cheese ice-cream dressing. about my flesh and blood.
The next day I visit a cemetery blanketed with people and The next day, I tour Josefa’s home, now the town’s main
fresh flowers. Miniature skulls made of sugar are sold every- government building. Two guides lead me to the stateroom.
where. This holiday is all about remembering the departed. I “Today, this is where anything important happens,” one tells me.
spend the afternoon wandering the walled pantheon that over- It is the very room where Josefa’s history-changing “start the
looks hilly Guanajuato and its gravity-defying architecture, revolution” message slipped through the keyhole—and went
thinking about my own departed ancestor. I head back down- viral. As her distant relative and, I like to believe, kindred spirit,

mexico
Throughout central Mexico,

rodeos celebrate horsemanship.
After the charros, or cowboys
(bottom) show off their skills,
spectators (top) take to the
dance floor.

A bust of La Corregidora, heroine of Mexico’s 19th-century War of Independence against Spain, keeps vigil in Dolores Hidalgo.
I can’t help but wonder: Could I start a revolution? Do I have, Impostors. My family’s connection to history is, well, fiction.
ahem, what it takes? Or is it? There is always the question of illegitimate children.
My last stop is Querétaro’s regional museum and, within it, After Hidalgo was executed, a battalion “escorted” Josefa to
the library. I pause when I am handed the exact text I’ve been Mexico City. Legend has it she spat in the face of each soldier.
searching for; I know it marks the end of my quest. From my Josefa was imprisoned for eight years. Was there a secret 15th
pocket I pull out my grandfather’s handwritten family tree. I child born during that time? Did her son Miguel have undocu-
open the book. I locate the genealogical diagram and search for mented offspring?
familiar names. I trace the names detailed in my grandfather’s Does it matter?
letter. I cross-reference with the book. Domínguez–Domínguez. On my last night in Querétaro I stumble on a little Oaxacan-
They start to match. style restaurant, María y su Bici. Featured here are 12 flavours
But then they don’t. of mole—that intensely rich, velvety smooth, infinitely complex
Something isn’t right. I check both again—three, four, five Mexican secret sauce. After I beg, the waiter lets me sample
times. The two lists don’t line up. Our family names don’t match them all. People merrily share tables, jokes, and tequila. Such
any offspring of Josefa’s grandchildren. Then I notice a blurb simple joy, such decadent mole. Such decent humanity. I could
about her fifth son, Miguel (our alleged link). He moved to fight a revolution for this.
southern Mexico (our Domínguez relatives lived there too), but Two musicians start to play campesino tunes that make my
there is little documentation of his life beyond that. He married heart ache, and I decide I will adopt Josefa Ortíz de Domínguez,
but had no marriage license, no children. Then I read in Span- La Corregidora, as my insurgent granny. I think my grandfather
ish: “One family claims to be related, but have been proven to would approve. My inner Latino might not come from Josefa’s
be impostors.” DNA, but it still jumps when a mariachi wails.
Outside, the marimba music stops. A shadow sweeps
across the room. I realise I am not who I think I am. I have Colorado-based Peter Mcbride is a writer, photographer, and
not descended from a famous revolutionary. The sangre of filmmaker. He loves Mexico’s mañana attitude and sometimes
Mexico’s great heroine does not dance in my veins. My non- dreams in Spanish, though he is still working on pronouncing
revolutionary blood starts to boil. “La Corregidora” correctly.

geographic stock
Scientists are fascinated by the

existence of rich ecosystems of
(XXXXXXXXX)
crustacean life deep inside blue holes

c. skiles/national
where no plant life exists.

Facing page: Attila and Adam discover
a cavern hidden from sight by the
XXXXXXXXXXXX
reflection of the rock above. Inside

was a labyrinth of stalactites and
stalagmites that stretched into the
wes
darkness beyond.

the bahamas
Hidden
Depths
Sometimes, you need
to get beneath the
surface to really
discover home
Text and Photographs by Britt Basel

“Could that be the turn-off ?”

I pointed to a barely visible trail that
led off through the Abaco Pine.
“I don’t think so,” Adam replied.
“We haven’t seen the rock pile yet.”
The rough dirt road was technical gear. He was
barely wide enough for the determined to map a
truck to squeeze through. recently discovered maze
Branches of poisonwood of underwater caves
slapped against the sides beneath Great Abaco. He
of the vehicle, leaving an painted a vibrant picture
oily residue that we had to of a watery underworld and
be careful not to touch, lest narrow passages that led
we risk the bubbling rash onward for kilometres. He
that we’d seen on too many told us about the thrilling
embarrassed tourists. We risks of laying line as he
were on Great Abaco Island explored this unchartered
in the Bahamas, armed wonderland. For the most
with a hand-drawn map part, I dismissed them as
and on a mission to find a tall tales edged with truth.
place called Dan’s Cave. By Then, years later, walking
coming to these islands, I by an airport newsstand,
had come back home. But I stopped short. There,
this time I had set out to on the cover of National
discover a different side Geographic magazine, were
of Abaco. Under the shadow of the Elbow Reef Lighthouse, the Hope Town the Blue Holes of Abaco.
The Abaco Islands are a Settlement sits between the Sea of Abaco and the deep waters of the I had always thought that I
mix of British colonialism Atlantic Ocean. Over two centuries, the town has had a colorful history as a knew these islands as well
and Caribbean flair. I centre for wrecking, fishing, and agriculture. as anyone knows the place
spent most of my teenage they call home. But Fred
years living on an eight-metre sailboat in Hope Town Harbour had been right. Abaco had a stunningly beautiful and hidden
among a motley crew of colourful characters. I was towed side that I had barely known existed. Now I wanted
behind speedboats, clutching on to a line as I scoured the ocean to see it for myself.
floor looking for conch (a local delicacy), while we joked that This year, I had to make it happen. I called Adam, a long-
the boat captain was using us to troll for sharks. I tried—and time friend who we refer to as Captain Adventure. “I want to
failed—to climb palms for the coconuts that I loved so much. check out Dan’s Cave and the Blue Holes of Abaco. You in?” Of
I learned how to scuba dive, eventually becoming an instructor course he was.
for a colourful stint in my twenties. I sailed traditional Abaco A month and two sweaty travel days later, the ferry delivered
dinghies at sunset beneath the shadow of the red-and-white my father and me to the boatyard where Burgoo was “on the
striped lighthouse. dry” and waiting for us. The next two days were lost in a flurry
Now I can only return to Abaco for a few weeks each year. of cleaning, varnishing, and maintenance. Our boat is now 52
I help my father fix up our sailboat and get it into the water, years old. She’s a classic—the first fibreglass hull to win a major
spend some time with him, and slip back into the easy rhythms race. Famous and frisky in her youth, she shows her age a little
of island life. Even if my visits are brief, every time the ferry now. In 48 hours, we had managed to put Burgoo in the water,
drops us off at the boatyard and I clamber on to the deck of sail through Whale Cay Passage, and arrive in Hope Town.
Burgoo, I know that I am home. Adam was working all week, so I had to be patient. A sign
Fred, also known as the Cave Man, was one of the characters as you enter the harbour reads, “Slow down, you’re in Hope
I met during my teenage adventures. Every day I would Town.” It’s directed at powerboats that tend to blaze through
see him head out, alone and weighted down with a snarl of the anchorage at high speed, but it was good advice for me too.

the bahamas
In 1964, Britt and her father

George’s boat Burgoo took first
place in the Newport-Bermuda
Yacht Race. It was the first time
a fibreglass sailboat had won a
major competition.

Abaco had a stunningly beautiful and hidden

side that I had barely known existed. Now I
wanted to see it for myself

the
bahamas
In 1952, Randolph Johnston

and his family left the United
States in search of a better way
to live. They settled in a remote
hurricane hole on Great Abaco
called Little Harbour. Sailors
now flock to this beautiful and
solitary bay.

Brightly painted homes made from sturdy Abaco pine characterise the sleepy settlements of Great Abaco and the Out Islands (top); The first
days back in Abaco are always a flurry of activity in the boatyard as Burgoo (bottom) is prepared to set sail. It will take a full day to sail from
the boatyard on Green Turtle Cay, navigate the waves and wind of Whale Cay Passage, and finally cross the Sea of Abaco to arrive in Hope Town.
it was time to leave the mainland behind and get back to the Friday finally arrived. With my hair thick and salty from
easy living that abaco had taught me. no matter how excited i ocean water and my skin turning a darker shade of brown, it
was to get to the Blue holes, nothing was going to make Friday was time to get back to the adventure i was here for.
come sooner. Why not enjoy myself? through a little sleuthing, adam and i found out that
While i waited for adam, my father and i fell into our Brian Kakuk and nancy albury had become the local experts
favourite routine. after a rich cup of coffee and my run on on abaco’s Blue holes. Brian is a cave diver, proud to have
the beach, we would head out to the reef to go spear-fishing found a way to make a living doing what he loves. nancy
and catch a spiny lobster or fish for dinner. if the wind was is a palaeontologist responsible for the landmark find of a
up, we might opt for a day of sailing, my father humming the fossilised cuban crocodile in one of the Blue holes. after we
theme song to Gilligan’s Island while we trolled with a fishing put together a small team, our next stop was their lab in Marsh
line. My father thinks harbour. there, surrounded by stunning photos of their
of it as a sneak attack, explorations, i plied them with questions.
trolling for fish while the low-lying islands and cays of abaco sit in
under sail instead of using shallow turquoise water on the little Bahama Bank.
a powerboat. During one over millions of years, countless little creatures
trip, just as i was thinking built a reef, eventually creating this platform that
that i hadn’t seen this technique juts up from between the deep waters of the
work in years, the line started Gulf Stream and the atlantic ocean, just off
screeching. “Get into the wind! We the Florida coast. rainwater seeped into the
got a bite!” he yelled, as he called me cracks of this karst stone over millennia, slowly
to the helm and jumped like a thrilled melting away a system of caverns. the result?
ten-year-old. the sound of flapping sails islands riddled with blue holes where the
ratcheted up the excitement as he fought the surface has fallen in to expose caves below.
monstrous mutton snapper and eventually hauled Years of rain have filled these caves with
all 80 centimetres of it into the cockpit. it was enough fresh water that rests on the saltwater from
to feed us for days. the surrounding sea. historically, animals and
100 national GeoGraphic traveller inDia | julY 2014

the bahamas
On Town Beach behind Hope Town, Attila looks for coconuts to harvest (left). Brilliant white sand to lounge on, brightly coloured coral heads for
snorkelling, and a mellow surf break make this the perfect place to while away an afternoon in the sun; Seafood, especially conch, is a staple in
the Bahamian diet. Baked and stuffed land crab (right) is another local delicacy, but harder to find.
humans alike have depended on these precious watering indigenous people that lived here long ago. A careless kick
holes. Pottery shards and fossils make the Blue Holes an with a fin could forever destroy an irreplaceable remnant of
invaluable window into the past. history. Inspired by our newfound respect for the importance
In modern times, the Blue Holes are remote and usually of these caves, we asked Nancy to draw us a map and piled
covered by dense brush that Bahamians call bush. It’s into the truck.
usually hunters after wild boar that stumble into them. Soon we were surrounded by Bahamian bush and pine so
Maybe literally. In the 1990s, a pilot flying over Dan’s Cave dense it wasn’t readily apparent where the sun was. Every
spied a break in the bush. Intrigued by the possibility of direction looked identical. It makes it easy to understand how
an undiscovered blue hole, he called Dan, a local diver, to these holes have remained hidden jewels. Even with our map,
investigate. Many explorations later, almost 13 kilometres we made a wrong turn. Unsure, Adam pulled out his phone to
of Dan’s Cave have been mapped. Brian’s eyes were get a bird’s-eye view from Google Earth. He hoped to see that
shining as he explained that it will take generations to same break in the brush that the pilot had spotted back in the
map the rest of it. 1990s. Finally, we found the rocks piled into a cairn, the road
The Blue Holes are a delicate and dangerous national we had been searching for, and a few minutes later, a path
treasure. Exploring them requires much more than a leading off into the brush.
M. Timothy O’Keefe/Alamy/indiapicture (crabs)
simple scuba dive with a tank of compressed air. You And then it appeared beneath an outcropping of rock in
need multiple backup torches, a line to guide you in and the vast no man’s land of pine and poisonwood. Brilliant
out, and several tanks filled with specialised mixtures blue water sparkled in a small pond surrounded by ferns.
of gases to allow you to stay underwater for hours at a You never would have known that it led into the belly
time. With so many technical details, and sometimes of the island. It was like unexpectedly happening upon
kilometres between you and the surface, inexperienced a sacred site. We stopped short, eyes wide, completely
divers can easily get themselves in trouble. More than one silent. Then, as if coming out of a trance, we were
overly ambitious and underprepared diver has died in transformed into little kids, running back to the truck for
these tunnels. our masks and fins.
The divers pose a few dangers themselves. These Blue Holes We aren’t technical cave divers, so the inner caverns
may hold clues to lingering mysteries about ice ages and the would have to remain a mystery. But keeping the light of

When the British government built the Elbow Reef Lighthouse in 1863, the people of Hope Town repeatedly tried to sabotage its construction.
They knew it would bring an end to the wrecking industry that had been important to the economic survival of the Abaco Out Islands. Their
efforts failed and now, all these years later, the lighthouse is the pride of Hope Town.
the sun in sight, we were determined to explore what we the drive flew by. Soon we were at a beachside pub overlooking
could of that sparkling pool cut into the rock. a small harbour. With my toes buried in the sand and relishing
Navigating vines, trees, and bushes we made our way in the ocean breeze, I was sipping on a celebratory drink of
into the water. The coolness came as a shock after the rum mixed with coconut water. The conversation from the
heat of the tropical sun. We carefully picked our way truck had continued. Now we were dreaming up plans to
through the shallow water at the entrance. Suddenly, the become certified as technical divers and kayak through shallow
bottom vanished. Rock walls covered in years of leaves and back bays to explore sinkholes. Attila chimed in, “Britt, your
silt plunged into the darkness below. With a deep breath, I eyes are shining.”
dived down. Unlike ocean water that keeps you buoyed to the The gentle smile stayed on my face, but I got quiet for a
surface, the frigid fresh water let me descend effortlessly. The moment. As I gazed out at the sailboats in the harbour, I
funnel of the first chamber eerily disappeared into shadows. thought about how the story is always bigger than it first
With another kick, I continued downward, hungry to see just appears. Fred was simply one player among many who had
a little more. Finally the burning of my lungs overcame my discovered and explored Dan’s Cave. And Abaco was a lot
curiosity, demanding I return to the sunlight. more than what I had seen from the surface.
Brian had described the wonder of what lay beyond that No matter how well we know a place, or how well we know
darkness—a cavern, like an ice castle, filled with crystalline ourselves, there is always some hidden beauty waiting to be
rock formations. My mind sparkled with visions of what it discovered. Sometimes it takes diving just a little farther in.
would be like to tech-dive this cavern: weightless, the air in my I turned my head back to Attila and finally responded, “Let’s
lungs lifting me over stalagmites as the light from my torch just say, it’s good to be home.”
dances along crystal columns.
Back at the truck, we peeled off our wetsuits and climbed Britt Basel is a scientist, teacher, and photojournalist, working
in for the hot and sticky journey back through the Bahamian around the world to help communities adapt to climate change
bush. With our excited discussion about what we had just seen, and protect their natural resources.

the bahamas
As part of the team,

Captain Sarah Gilmer
explores the outer pool
of Dan’s Cave.

The Guide
Orientation
The Bahamas consists of over 700 islands located in the Atlantic Ocean between U.S.A. and Cuba.
The country’s capital, Nassau, on the southern island of New Providence, is 298 km/1 hour by when
air from Miami, Florida. To explore the blue holes of Abaco, it is advisable to fly to Marsh Harbour to go
airport, on Great Abaco Island. Dan’s Cave, on Elbow Cay Island, is 6.5 km from Great Abaco Island
and accessible by ferry.
The Bahamas is
Getting there
The closest airport is the
bright and sunny
Marsh Harbour Airport through the year, but
on Great Abaco Island. without the stifling
It is well connected, but heat associated
there are no direct flights with such weather.
from India. A minimum of
It experiences two
two stops are required,
and the layover destin-
major seasons, a long,
ation depends on the warm winter (Sept-
carrier. Flight time is May) and a warmer
about 24 hours. Hope summer (June-Aug)
Town is a 20-min ferry that is accompanied
ride from Great Abaco.
by frequent rain
Visa and the occasional
Indians travelling to the hurricane. During
Bahamas require a visa winter, the average
that is processed by the day temperature is
British High Commission usually between 21°C
in New Delhi. Travellers
and 24°C. At night,
need to submit an
online application form The visa takes 3 to 4 weeks It is advisable to apply for a visa the temperature tends
(visa4uk.fco.gov.uk) along with a to process. For details, call through a travel agent. A six- to drop by another
copy of confirmed tickets, hotel 0008-001008785; callers are month, multiple-entry visa costs five degrees. Summer
details, and other documents. charged £1.4/`144 per minute. $170/`10,000. months get a little
warmer, but the day
temperature rarely
crosses 30°C.
Looking out from Pete’s

Pub after our day of
exploring the blue holes,
the anchorage of Little
Harbour is as smooth
as glass. Some cruising
urmimala nag (map)
sailboats spend time in

this idyllic anchorage
before crossing the
open ocean toward the
Bahamian Islands that
lie south of Abaco.

At Home
ABROAD reconnecting with Jackson Heights,
New York’s Little India
(XXXXXXXXX)
Scozzari/dinodia
XXXXXXXXXXXX
By Piyali Bhattacharya
Pietro

u.s.a.
Richard Levine/Alamy/indiapicture
Considered one of the most

diverse and multicultural
neighbourhoods in New York
City, Jackson Heights is so
much more than a South
Asian enclave.

hen most Indian-Americans

consider a “return to roots”, they
usually mean that they’d like to spend some time in India
rediscovering their heritage and identity. But when I go back to
the place of my origin, I take a journey to the country that lies
on the other side of that hyphen.
Although I went to school in Westchester County, just north
of Manhattan, I decided to study for a year at Delhi University,
and after college, moved to the city to work. I married a 1
Delhiite and we became a Global Indian Couple. We’ve made
our home in both America and in India, trying to fly back and
forth between the two as often as possible.
Going back to the country of my birth has always involved
a trip to Jackson Heights, one of the dozens of ethnic enclaves
around New York City. Like Southall in London, Jackson
Heights is lined with nostalgic images of “home”: Bollywood
posters and Kishore Kumar songs blaring on a stereo in the
distance; whiffs of chicken tikka masala wafting through the
air vents of subway stations; and the general sense of a busy
marketplace and gossip corner come dusk.
Neighbourhoods like this provide the smell and feel of
home for immigrants who have spent too many days in a row
shovelling snow and eating cold pasta. They also provide a
space for Indian migrants to bring their children when a trip to
Scott Gries/getty images (street signs), Bloomberg/getty images (patel brothers)

India is not on the cards. My mother realised that if she wanted 2
to live in the States and raise “Indian” children, she’d have to
bring the homeland closer. And so, Jackson Heights was firmly
part of my childhood years.
Two years ago, I decided to start writing a novel about
an illegal immigrant from Bangladesh and in order to get a
better sense of my protagonist, I started making weekly trips
to Jackson Heights once again. I interviewed fruit vendors,
chefs at restaurants, taxi drivers, and shop owners. As I delved 3
deeper into the lives that had, for so long, been only in my
peripheral vision, I realised that I had never noticed the people
who make a community like Jackson Heights function. 1 In the early 2000s, the most popular mile of 74th Street was
Who were they and what did their vision for the Jackson renamed Kalpana Chawla Way in memory of the late Indian-
Heights community entail? To answer that question, I look to American astronaut. 2 Patel Brothers, a Jackson Heights
institution, may be one of the biggest speciality grocery stores
Subhas Ghai and Raj Gandhi. In 1973—eight years after the in New York. Its aisles which stock idli makers, iron tawas, and
Immigration Act of 1965 allowed skilled and educated South “puja items” provide immigrants with more than a whiff of the
Asians to start trickling into America—Ghai and Gandhi saw home country. 3 The Jackson Heights stop on the E, F, V, G, R
the desi population of New York starting to bulge and created and 7 New York City Subway lines is a familiar spot for most
South Asian New Yorkers.
for them a business that would fulfil a very specific need. Their
Facing page: In New York’s “Little India”, everything from
store, Sam & Raj, supplied cheap American electronic items in Bollywood music to immigration-specific legal advice is available.
dual voltages (110 volts for an American outlet, 220 volts to use

u.s.a.
Bloomberg/getty images

Thalis at Jackson Heights’ restaurants draw diners from all over the East Coast. Food tours, offering an insight into the neighbourhood’s
immigrant cultures, are common.
Facing page: Jackson Heights is one of the most popular places in the United States for homesick desis get their fix of fresh, fluffy naan (top),
veggies such as karela (bottom left), and sweets like jalebi (bottom right).
the object abroad) for South Asians to take home to families economics of the United States. I was enthralled by the way the
hungry for gifts. Almost overnight, Indians from all over shopkeepers threw the fabric in the air to attract customers,
the tri-state area of New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut the way they could drape a sari on a woman in a matter of
started flocking to the shop, located just off of Roosevelt seconds. Because we travelled to Kolkata every summer,
Avenue on 74th street in Jackson Heights, Queens. New York’s there was often no point in buying the highly marked-up
“Little India” was born. and sometimes poor quality sequinned chiffons that I.S.P.
The Jackson Heights of my childhood was laid out on the specialised in, but once in a while Ma would indulge herself.
small strip of 74th Street between Roosevelt and 37th Avenue. Not necessarily because she wanted the sari, but because, I
As we drove into the neighbourhood, the streets would start now realise, the purchase of a sari in Jackson Heights on a
to look different. Indian women in salwar kameezes and saris snowy Saturday in February made her feel like she was sharing
wandered on the sidewalks, the shops sold everything from something with her American daughter that her mother had
raw mangoes to India-imported Bournvita, and a mix of Hindi, once shared with her.
Punjabi, and Gujarati would reverberate through the air. After I.S.P. came the monthly pit stop at Sam & Raj. Here
We would start with the most important thing: food. In the we found all manner of magical items such as high-powered
1990s, the best place to eat in Jackson Heights was Jackson hair dryers and double-compartment spice grinders (in dual
Diner (it still is). At the time, the diner was a hole-in-the- voltage, of course) and more importantly, enormous suitcases
wall but we were loyal patrons of their butter naan and sweet to carry these treasures to India and back. Finally, we would
Christian Science Monitor/Getty Images
lassi. Then Ma would have to stop by India Sari Palace while head to Rajbhog Sweets for some chai, samosa, and kulfi
Baba and my brother headed to Patel Brothers to pick up the falooda before heading home.
important groceries that we couldn’t find in Westchester: By the time I was in high school in the early 2000s, friends
mustard oil, dhaniya leaves, methi seeds. started asking me where they could find Indian outfits and
I remember being fascinated by India Sari Palace. Located food. So I started to lead little expeditions into the city by train.
just across the street from Sam & Raj, it was the other shop As always, Jackson Diner would be the first order of business.
that put Jackson Heights on the map. On entering, we were It was around this time that I started to notice Jackson Heights
greeted with rows upon rows of satins, silks, and chiffons, changing. Jackson Diner had found itself a larger space, and
and on either side of the shop were wall-to-wall mirrors. It shops such as Butala Emporium, Karishma Boutique, and
was the decadence of South Asia steeped in the supermarket Sona Chandi were added to the list of spots we’d have to stop

July 2014 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
111
u.s.a.
Frances M. Roberts/Alamy/indiapicture (nan seller), Richard Levine / Alamy/indiapicture (Karela),

Frances Roberts / Alamy/indiapicture (jalebi)
Religious and ethnic identities dissolve, especially around Diwali when street fairs are set up (top); Nostalgic desis may turn to Bollywood
(bottom) to brush up on their Hindi but Jackson Heights also has Hollywood connections: Actors Susan Sarandon and Lucy Liu were born here.
by. jackson heights had spread out a bit more to include extended beyond the “model minority” of doctors, lawyers, and
37th avenue between 72nd Street and 75th Street, which engineers who dominate our diaspora’s representation in books
caused a spike in the range of items available. all of a sudden, and films. it has also included the mini-mart owners, the taxi
we couldn’t leave without rifling through Butala’s stack of drivers, and the dishwashers who come to america struggling
bejewelled bindis or heading to one of the hundreds of music to make ends meet, worrying about their immigration status,
FranceS roBertS/aLamy/indiaPicture (Street Food), Scott GrieS/Getty imaGeS (sriDeVi)

stalls selling the latest Bollywood cDs. and hoping to send a little money back to relatives at home.
But perhaps the biggest change was the fact that jackson in the light of this realisation, asking a worker in patel
heights, in a very short time span, had undergone an Brothers to guide me to the murhi (puffed rice) section takes
overwhelming demographic shift. the availability of something on deeper meaning: What is this man’s background? Does
called a Diversity visa to the u.S. from Bangladesh meant that he have work papers, and if not, does he lie awake at night
the jackson heights i had grown up with, a largely punjabi- wondering when he’ll see his family again? Does he have a
and Gujarati-dominated area, all of a rich relative who will help him with a loan to start his own
sudden, had a very Bangladeshi vibe. business? What dreams did he stuff into his pockets before
as a Bengali, this was a pleasant boarding his plane out of the subcontinent?
surprise for me. My stilted hindi today, my trips to jackson heights take largely the same
transitioned into easy Bangla with form they had nearly 30 years ago. My husband and i drive
shop owners, and of course it didn’t into the city and food, groceries, and music are all on the
hurt that i started getting free iced agenda. But these days, i make sure to fill the parking meter
coffees at the jackson heights with extra time. i know i’ll need it as i wander down 74th
Dunkin’ Donuts. Street (now called Kalpana chawla Way, after the astronaut)
all of these memories came and take a moment to say hello to a familiar face, or recognise
hurtling back to me when i some of the ghosts of my childhood as they float alongside me
started researching my novel. while i walk.
one of the lessons i learnt in
jackson heights may well have PIYALI BHATTACHARYA has written for the the New York Times, Wall
been the most important: South Street Journal, Outlook, and Time Out Delhi. She is currently
asian immigration to the u.S. working on her first novel.

u.s.a.
Several boutiques (top) and gold jewellery shops (bottom) in the area help prepare South Asians for traditional wedding ceremonies, and the
occasional prom night.
Market Watch
If you’re heading to Jackson Heights, don’t miss out shopping
at these places:
Butala Emporium The one-stop-shop for all things desi, Butala
vespasian/alamy/indiapicture (jewellery), Pietro Scozzari/dinodia (manniquin)

stocks everything from bridal magazines to CDs of the latest
Bollywood soundtracks, recordings of religious chants, boxes of
bejewelled bindis, and all kinds of knick-knacks from all over South
Asia. Their basement even has a furniture section.
Karishma Boutique When I wanted to wear a lehnga choli to my

senior high school prom, I headed over to Karishma. I’ve since sent
many friends there to shop for weddings or special occasions they
might have to attend.
Sona Chandi Jewelers For new gold or silver jewellery for

a special occasion, Sona Chandi is the store. Sometimes it’s
simply to marvel at the rows upon rows of filigreed gold
bangles, ornate necklaces, and nose pins. The window
display never disappoints.
Jackson Tailors This shop tucked into a basement on Kalpana

Chawla Way, is where residents go to get a sari blouse or choli
stitched in New York.

There are children’s parks, gardens, and

amphitheatres around Dhakuria Lake. Many
migratory birds visit during winter, making it a
popular picnic spot. There are several rowing
clubs as well, including the Calcutta Rowing Club,
founded by the British in 1858.

KOLKATA
Reliving
remembered
joys in
There’s no place like home.

Especially if it involves bed
tea, jaunts down Park Street,
and old friends
maNJit SiNGh hooNJaN
BY SHREYA SEN-HANDLEY
julY 2014 | national GeoGraphic traveller inDia 115

In Focus | RETURN TO ROOTS
THE CROWS HAD STARTED CAWING

IN THE MILKY LIGHT OF DAWN.
the noises of the house waking reached my drowsy ears shortly after. the bustle built up just beyond the half-open door
of the room in which i lay cocooned in the mosquito net with my children. i was a guest in my ancestral home with no
chores to perform for a change. Breakfast was being made, the newspapers had arrived, and the laundry had magically
come back clean.
coaxed out of bed with a cup of sweet tea, i found hot jalebis, fruit, and a luxuriously cheesy omelette in the dining
room. Stuffing myself in the hope that we’d soon get out and work it off, i discovered it was nearly lunchtime. the only
sensible course of action was to wait for the chholar daal, potoler dolma, kosha mangsho and shorshe ilish. Satiated, i
sternly told myself i shouldn’t indulge in that other Kolkata favourite—the never-ending siesta. the kids had seen enough
of the easy life. they were all set to explore their mother’s jostling, crumbling city. So we struck out into the great beyond.
into Kolkata.
maNJit SiNGh hooNJaN (VICTORIA), aNDeRSphoto/ShutteRStock (HIBISCUS)

Prominent Kolkata landmark Victoria Memorial is a hub of activity. During the day, people use the grounds to stroll, exercise, and picnic, and at
night, there is a 45-minute light-and-sound show. It also hosts popular literary events like the Kolkata Literary Meet.
at the turn of the century, i had left these shores for Blighty. six. i loved its mildly nippy winters. Warmed by the sun on
thirteen years later, i was back on a journey of rediscovery. the terrace, on our break from school, my cousins and i would
it would also be an introduction to my former home for help with the day’s cooking by shelling peas and defuzzing baby
my children who were growing up a world away. in the carrots. We would be rewarded with plump raisins, oranges,
wettest six weeks of the year, i hoped to show them all and notun gurer sandesh. there were trips to alipore
that i had found to love in two decades of exploring the city. Zoo with my mother’s clan. the overwhelming animal
i was excited but anxious. Kolkata’s charms are not the smell of the place would fade amidst the joys of watch-
obvious kind. its beauty is in the sounds and tastes ing wondrous creatures and tucking into tutti-frutti
and in the way it makes you feel. ice cream.
i felt nothing but love for my city until i was But closest to my heart is a monsoon memory of

kolkata
my sprightly, large-hearted great-grandfather wading be in central Kolkata, sampling its cosmopolitan

through knee-deep water to entertain me on a dreary delights—from posh patisseries to roadside shacks
afternoon. As soon as he arrived, there would be magic selling meaty Mughlai rolls, to little shops in New
in the air. We would make puppets out of eggshells Market flogging trendy togs, and cavernous cinema
and scraps, stage shows with our delicate marionettes halls showing Hollywood blockbusters. There was
from behind the dining room curtains, read tales of L oving also the newly instituted Nandan screening cerebral
adventure, and end the evening with philosophical cinema alongside brightly lit new bookstores where
discussions on Feluda, Tintin, or The Little Prince while K olkata you could, for the first time, sit and browse. These
sharing a slab of chocolate. is like things sustained me through high school and univer-
The next five years were spent in the Philippines. In sity. When, as a broadcast journalist, I began delving
teve Raymer/National Geographic Society/Corbis/ Image Library

the gleaming capital of Manila, I developed new inter- learning into Kolkata’s cultural riches for our show, I fell in
ests. I loved the sea and the balmy weather. I discov-
ered Nancy Drew, Judy Blume, and Bruce Springsteen. to swim : love with my city all over again.
Now I was back for more, with my little angrezis
The family I had left behind were never far from my you never in tow.
mind, but time and distance opened up a gulf between We headed for the open spaces the children would
me and my old city. When I returned to Kolkata, my forget enjoy. At Dhakuria Lake, we watched games of
great-grandfather was no more and the unalloyed love cricket, traipsed through green, dripping Safari Park
I had for my home town had also died. The summers
how looking for a dry swing, ending up, as always, at the
felt searing, the monsoons relentless, and the winters Calcutta Rowing Club. I have fond early memories of
biting compared to the tropical climate I had embraced. the CRC, of its children’s Christmas parties with drawing compe-
But loving Kolkata is like learning to swim: you never forget titions on flowering lawns, tables laden with cake and strangely
how. In the years after our return, at first grudgingly and then slim Santas. The Anderson Club was another childhood haunt.
with growing enthusiasm, I rediscovered my city. I went on Emerging shivering from an evening swim to warm ourselves
morning walks round Dhakuria Lake with my cousins. My with piping hot lentil soup was a weekly ritual. I returned to
grandmother’s magnificent pot roasts on Sundays were worth these clubs so the children could run like the wind, rummage in
moving country for. A couple of times a month we would bushes for lizards, and dig into tubs of Two in One ice cream.
It is wise to always be armed with an umbrella during the four months of monsoon, from June to September. Dark clouds loom over the horizon,
bursting forth without warning.


kolkata
The next day we went further. Victoria Memorial was a breath

The four shrines that are part of the of fresh air after the choking traffic on the way there. Victoria
Pareshnath Jain Temple complex was her usual regal self. If it soothed me to gaze upon its elegant
are decorated in bright mosaics
of Belgian glass and coloured
marble facade after the chaos we had just endured, it pleased the
stones. They are dedicated to Lord kids as much to spot statues of stately lions, trumpeting angels,
Pareshnath, the 23rd Tirthankara. and Victoria in voluminous robes.
The children would have spent all day galumphing about
on the damp grass, watching kites (of the avian variety) wheel
overhead and attempting to pet mangy dogs, had a gusty squall
not sent us scurrying in. Inside the dark, cavernous halls, they
found other delights. Shadows and echoes became playmates as
they pored over centuries-old cutlasses, hoary cannons, and the
dramatic paintings of tigers. Rain couldn’t dampen their day.
Back outside, avoiding the swarms of sad donkeys and their
manically persistent handlers, we made our way to the Maidan.
Despite the sodden ground, there were throngs of people there
with the same idea, of escaping the reek and rumpus of the more
congested parts of the city. We wandered past ancient trams,
football scrums, and vendors advertising their mouth-watering
wares in sing-song voices. We stood where the Calcutta Book
Fair had been held until the High Court moved it to the E.M.
Bypass in 2009 for environmental reasons. It had been an
annual pilgrimage for many of us, equally devoted to books
and food. For the Boi Mela had been endless lines of bookstalls
punctuated with pungent shacks peddling fish fry, chicken roll,
and little bhars of tea. And people, shoulder to shoulder, toe
upon stubbed toe, passionately going about their business of
choosing books and refreshments.
Streaked with pink, the sky reminded me we should return
home before the mosquitoes came out to feast on young flesh.
Their father was due to arrive that night.
He got a day to recover from jet lag before we went explor-
ing again. We headed for Park Street, the home of my television
years and my favourite part of the city. At the end of the street
is a darkly romantic 18th-century cemetery with lichen-stained
headstones and the occasional giggle-inducing epitaph (“Here
lies Lisbeth Brewster, undone by a portion of pineapple” or
something to that effect). Lost amongst the almost entirely
European, generally Gothic, memorials is the tomb of Indologist
William Jones. It is a distinctly Hindu edifice with a central
dome and black basalt carvings. The structure was an affirma-
tion of his love for India, and I was glad to have found it among
the shadows and rivulets of the rain-washed graveyard.
Our next stop was just off Park Street, where my elegant all-
girls’ college appeared as it always had, untouched by the hurly-
burly around it on Middleton Row. Loreto College had the calm
of a nunnery and the sheen of a finishing school for well-heeled
women. As I showed my family around the deserted college that
holiday, I could hear the whispered stories, shared laughter,
and occasional heartbreak of generations of girls in its corridors
Raquel Carbonell/Age Foto Stock/Dinodia
and classrooms. Right next to Loreto House and College is the

tranquil St. Thomas’ Church. It was there before Loreto but
has the same stillness about it. When Mother Teresa was laid
in state there in 1997, the world streamed in through its doors,
disrupting its distinctive hush. A year later I was responsible for
disturbing the peace while shooting for MTV there. But on that
afternoon it was bathed in the serene glow that the blazing sun
emerging after a spot of rain confers on Kolkata.
We’d become so unused to peace in my polyphonic city, we
needed a pick-me-up after our sombre tour of cemeteries,

In Focus | RETURN TO ROOTS
Sir William Jones, founder of the Asiatic Society, is buried at South Park Street Cemetery, a heritage site maintained by the Archaeological
Survey of India. It is a peaceful spot, where time seems to have stood still, while the city grew around it.
churches, and cloistered colleges. at Flurys, the finest identical tiny room, crammed with tables, had
tea room in town, we found pastries, savouries, and delectable smells wafting out. With little hope of
that gorgeous coffee and ice-cream concoction called finding my old haunt, we decided to eat at the busiest,
coffee Sprungli. Since it opened its doors in 1927, brightest one.
Flurys has collected a large and determined clientele, our last week was devoted to friends and family
my family among them. there was never a trip to we wouldn’t see again for months. alongside pujos
central Kolkata that did not involve a visit to Flurys. and parties at their homes, were tea, digestives,
as i admired the plush new interiors fitted after a fire
in 2010, the kids took it upon themselves to pick the
there and dalmut (savoury snack) on the balcony with
my parents. lunches of moshoor dal, mocha chingri,
pastries for taking home. was never and mishti doi with the whole family around the
With one day left to see the sights, we decided to table. Wrapping up each satisfyingly slow day with late
go off the beaten track. We arrived at the temple of a a triP to night addas after the kids had fallen asleep. the day
Million Mirrors in Maniktolla as the sun set, gilding
every square of its cut-glass facade. in a city with
CentraL before we left, i turned 40. as friends from different
chapters of my life, most of whom i hadn’t seen in over
lots of character but little awe-inspiring beauty, this KoLKata a decade, gathered at calcutta rowing club with its
was a place i particularly wanted to show my family, twinkling lawns and delicious catering, i realised how
and not just at any time of the day. the 19th-century
that fortunate i was to have brought them together. past
pareshnath jain complex, a group of four temples DiD not exploits were recounted with warmth and laughter, ab-
adorned with mirrored mosaics and stained glass, sent friends remembered, and the city’s future discussed
can appear kitschy in daylight but at sunset it’s daz- invoLve with equal measures of hope and despair. Blowing out
zling. its twilit glow exudes a spirituality that touches the candles on my cake, i made a wish to keep coming
a visit to
even the non-believer. So we breathed it in—the back to the city of my birth for as long as i could.
sparkle, the serenity, and the faintly scented air. fLurys
maNJit SiNGh hooNJaN
But it was dinner that promised to be heaven. SHREYA SEN-HANDLEY is a former journalist and television
Dropped off at the entrance to the labyrinthine lanes producer who now writes and illustrates for the
of the tibetan Quarter in central Kolkata, we went british and indian media, when she’s not tending to
looking for a little eatery with divine momos that i two toddlers, a husband, and home in Sherwood
remembered from 15 years ago. Yet nearly every Forest, Nottingham.

KOLKATA
KOLKATA CLASSICS IN FARAWAY KITCHENS
ZkRuGeR/ShutteRStock (JAR), mohammeD aNWaRul kabiR chouDhuRy/alamy/iNDiapictuRe (DISH),

For the soul settled far from home, familiar, much-loved ﬂavours can salvage bad days and enhance good ones.
our dark english winters are brightened by slivers of bengali culinary sunshine. Recreating kolkata classics with
my enthusiastic young family in our Nottingham kitchen, using readily available ingredients, is easy and fun. and
the outcome, almost always delectable. my version of the classic shorshe ilish is a bengal-inspired salmon.
Steve RaymeR/NatioNal GeoGRaphic Society/coRbiS/imaGe libRaRy (PEOPLE)

a recreation rather than reproduction, it’s different but delicious.
the iNGReDieNtS We uSe methoD
4 salmon steaks Slather the salmon in turmeric-
1/2 tsp turmeric mustard paste, and leave in the
2 tbsp mustard paste fridge for at least 2 hours. heat
2 tbsp mustard oil the oil in a frying pan and add
1/2 tsp mustard seeds mustard seeds; when they begin
1/2 tsp cumin seeds to pop, add cumin and black
1/2 tsp black onion seeds onion seeds. (Manoeuvre children
1/2 cup water out of the kitchen before this.)
2-3 slit chillies Sear both sides of the salmon in
the pan. add leftover marinade
and water, making a sauce which
thickens while cooking. Simmer
chillies gently with the fish for
5 minutes. Magnificent with rice.
Sunday afternoon visits to the legendary Flurys tearoom are a tradition for many Kolkata families. The 1927 institution opened its ﬁrst store
outside Kolkata in Navi Mumbai in December 2013.

Autumn mornings on Derwentwater

present misty views of Lord’s Island
in the foreground and Catbells Hill
rising in the distance.

england
DIVING
BACK IN adam burton/robert harding world imagery/getty images
SharINg LeSSoNS LearNeD IN the LaKe

DIStrICt WIth aNother geNeratIoN
BY Mark Hannant

My mother taught me
how to gut and prepare a fish when I was about ten years old.
I had returned from an early morning expedition to the River
Greta that twists and swirls like an eel through the town of
Keswick in England’s Lake District. Beside the fast-flowing
waters, rich with freshwater fish, I’d regularly perched on a damp
rock under a bridge and cast my spinner. Many mornings I would
return empty-handed. That day I was the excited and hungry
captor of a handsome trout—not more than 500 grams but worth
more than its weight in gold to my inner hunter-gatherer.
“If you want to eat it you’ll have to prepare it,” was my mother’s
considered response from the kitchen sink as I waved my catch
under her nose. She proceeded to show me how to slice the belly,
clean out the bloody innards, and wash the fish under running
water. I was shown how to heat the pan and sear the skin and I
ate my fish with much pride and satisfaction. It was a lesson that
has served me well in the intervening four decades.
Until the age of eight I’d been a city boy, born and raised in

england
The Newlands Valley has literary connections.

The hamlet of Little Town was made famous
by children’s book author Beatrix Potter,
whose The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy Winkle was set
here. Lakeland poet William Wordsworth is
also known to have visited the valley.
Facing page: The author introduces his
two-year-old son to Orrest Head.
john finnery photography/moment/getty images,

Facing page: mark hannant

Keswick is nestled in the heart of the
Lake District National Park, the largest in
England. The reserve has stunning natural
beauty and is home to Scafell Pike, which
is the country’s highest mountain.

england
Herdwick sheep are very hardy creatures, capable of withstanding the Lake District’s harsh winters. Here, a herd crosses Watendlath Bridge, the
scene of the author’s youthful fishing escapades.
London. For the next five years I had the privilege to live in the The steep ride up to the little tarn (a small lake) at Watendlath
heart of a national park in the county of Cumbria in northwest was lung-busting but tired legs were rewarded with a fabulous
England. Keswick is a small market town nestled at the end of fishing spot and an exhilarating high-speed race back down the
Derwentwater, the larger of some 90 water bodies that give the winding lane past Surprise View and over the picture-postcard
Lake District its name. Windermere is probably the best known. Ashness Bridge.
It’s the longest and most accessible and attracts busloads of day When not fishing, my young friends and I hiked in the valley
trippers from the industrial conurbations around Manchester of Borrowdale, camped, carved sticks, and built driftwood rafts.
and Liverpool. Coniston Water is famous as the location for Don- One late spring day, we stumbled upon a pile of planks, disc-
ald Campbell’s water speed record and subsequent death trying arded when the lakeside jetties had been rebuilt in advance of the
to break his own record. The Coniston Brewery commemorates influx of summer tourists. We bound together half a dozen pieces
his achievement with a fine local beer named after his record- of wood and paddled our makeshift vessel the short distance to
Facing page: adam burton/robert harding world imagery/getty images

breaking boat Blue-bird. Windermere and Coniston provided the Lord’s Island. We arrived safely and spent an hour exploring the
inspiration for Swallows and Amazons, Arthur small atoll. Part way back, our boat began
Ransome’s story of childhood adventure. Der- That lakeside to disintegrate and we abandoned ship and
wentwater was on our doorstep and it became swam and waded the last few dozen metres,
my playground. Get off the beaten track and beach was a our feet squelching in the mud.
there are wonderful unspoilt spots to discover. favourite spot That lakeside beach was a favourite spot
I don’t know how I latched on to the idea for skimming stones. I still have a small scar
of fishing but I saved my pocket money and for skimming on my right index finger from when I sliced
bought a fishing rod and reel and then, week stones. I still have it while flicking a jagged piece of slate. One
linda lyon/moment open/getty images
by week, added lurid-coloured lures and spin- particularly cold winter, the water froze over
ners, shiny floats, and delicately tied flies to a small scar on and, as well as an impromptu ice hockey
my tackle box. Legs dangling from the wood- my right index match, older boys from our sixth form drove
en jetties that jut from the pebbly water’s edge, a Mini on to and around the edge of the lake.
I caught perch by the dozen and dreamt of
finger from when We tobogganed down hillsides until the light
landing an elusive pike. I cycled kilometres I sliced it while faded before dragging ourselves back home.
in search of fast-running streams, still deep As a Cub, and then a Boy Scout, I learnt
flicking a jagged
pools, and stony inlets to try my luck; somehow to read maps, sharpen a knife, build a
times alone, sometimes part of a small gang. piece of slate campfire, and tie a variety of knots. An armful

As a child, the author wasn’t allowed into such establishments (top

left). He has since made amends; Traditional Lake District homes (top
right) are made of locally quarried grey slate; Keswick’s picturesque
Main Street (bottom).
tim oram/age fotostock/dinodia (dogs), kevin walsh/age fotostock/dinodia (window),

wojteck buss/age fotostock/dinodia (buildings)

england
Rowing boats for hire at Derwentwater pier, an ideal spot for children to play and create imaginary worlds.
of diamond-shaped badges listed my achievements. My mother My son walked the steep path up to Watendlath with me in
taught me to sew the badges on to the sleeves of my green shirt. winter with ice underfoot. We thawed out in the foyer of Keswick’s
The scout troop spent several weekends gathering pine trunks Theatre by the Lake, an impressive construction built about
from a forest on the lower slopes of Skiddaw, England’s fourth 15 years ago with Arts Council money to replace the old Blue Box
highest mountain. We measured lengths and cut slots so the logs theatre-on-wheels of my childhood. The main house production
fit together and constructed a two-storey cabin in a clearing. It was a stage adaptation of Swallows and Amazons. It delighted
was an impressive structure and an early lesson in success and all members of our family party from the six-year-old to her
subsequently, betrayal, when one of our number fell foul of the 76-year-old great-aunt.
Scout Master and, having been expelled, returned to vandalise it. Last summer, we took the children with their grandfather
Now I go back with my wife and our young family to revisit up Walla Crag, a low, wooded fell just outside Keswick. On a
the places of my youth and hope to encourage in my city-living sunny day it’s a beautiful walk and the summit provides a rich
youngsters, a love of the outdoors and the same sense of freedom return on investment. The views back over the lake and on to
and adventure that made my early adolescence memorable. the high fells beyond are stunning. Unchanging, it’s a counter-
As infants, my children took in the views strapped into baby point to the constant change and mayhem that characterises
backpacks and seated in pushchairs. As toddlers, they paddled life in a megacity. As I took in the views and let the memories
in the clear water at the lakes’ shores and were carried on shoul- flood back I understood that many of the skills and attitudes I
ders across moorland and mountain. They jumped on and off the possess today were forged on these mountains and lakes. My
stephen saks/lonely planet images/getty images
ferry that crosses Ullswater, drew stick men at the Pencil Museum love of trekking, aptitude with maps, ability to build a campfire,
in Keswick, rode the Lakeside and Haverthwaite steam train at willingness to wander off the beaten track, confidence to make
Windermere, and watched cows being milked at Low Sizergh decisions, including when it’s wise to turn back, are all rooted in
Barn outside Kendal. As they’ve grown older and stronger they’ve those youthful adventures. I don’t have much opportunity, nor
made occasional visits and begun to experience the fells under need, to build log cabins but I can and do still clean and cook
their own steam. Approaching the age I was when I first explored fish and sew the occasional button when required. I hope my
this place of breathtaking (and potentially treacherous) beauty, children will be inspired to do the same.
they are now able to walk for several kilometres spurred on by
parental praise and the promise of an ice cream at the end. They Mark Hannant is a writer and consultant. He now lives in
are rewarded for switching off Minecraft or FIFA 14 to learn the Mumbai—the polar opposite of the tranquility and peace of
names of lakes and mountains and encouraged to look at maps to the Lake District—where he is co-founder of a fresh-thinking
understand the locality and topography. creative agency.

Introducing children
to the Lake District
Climb Orrest Head children and makes for a great
This two-hour walk, a round escape on a wet afternoon
trip from Windermere Station, (www.pencilmuseum.co.uk;
is easy-going and suitable open daily 9.30 a.m.-5 p.m.;
for all ages and abilities. It’s a entry £4.25/`420 for adults,
wonderful introduction to the £3.25/`320 for 16 years and
region and involves a short under, children below 5 free).
ascent of around 150 metres.
The summit is reached quickly Cycle around
and offers stunning views west DerwentWater
of the high fells of the central Cycling makes for a great day
Lake District. A gentle descent out. The distance is around
crosses farmland and walkers 15 km. It’s all road, with a few
return through woodland and steep climbs that reward the
a narrow lane, which winds rider with stunning views of
past imposing country houses. the lake. There are plenty of
It’s a tiny taster of the joys to spots to stop for a picnic and
be discovered further into the explore the shoreline. The more
national park. adventurous could stop on the Trout Fishery at Hawkshead with a dinghy, canoe, or kayak
western side and climb Catbells near Ambleside is an ideal spot and explore the lake and its
Visit Cumberland Pencil Hill (Keswick Bikes offers bikes for kids and beginners. It’s a rugged shoreline. Beginners
Museum, Keswick for hire; www.keswickbikes. great way to experience the or experienced sailors can
Among its other delights, co.uk.; from £25/`2,470 per thrill of freshwater fishing for a learn with Royal Yachting
Keswick is home to a museum day, tandems from £30/`2,965. day (get a permit and rod hire Association-approved trainers
dedicated to the art of pencil Charges include helmet, repair from £25/`2,470 for adults and (www.glenriddingsailingcentre.
craft. Graphite was discovered kit, and lock). £12/`1,186 for those under 18; co.uk; boats available by the
in Borrowdale in the 1500s www.visitcumbria.com/cfk- hour from £20/`1,976, or for
and there are records of Trout fishing gilcrux-trout-fishing). the day from £70/`6,920. There
pencil-making in Keswick There are dozens of options are several kids’ weeks during
from the 1830s. Pencils are for the committed angler who Sailing on Ullswater school holidays with sailing and
still locally made under the can fish the lakes, rivers, and The Glenridding Sailing Centre related activities from 10 a.m.-
Derwent brand. The museum sea off the western coast of offers expert sailing tuition 5 p.m.; £175/`17,300 for two
has a wealth of activities for Cumbria. The Esthwaite Water and boat hire. Get on the water days to £400/`39,530 for five).
david lyons/age fotostock/dinodia (cyclist), urmimala nag (map)

Journeys 132 138
romania canada
following the kings of gypsy music connecting with prince edward
into the heart of roma island, one meal at a time
132
Siedler/Alamy/ Indiapicture (music),

Alex Staroseltsev/shutterstock (oyster)
Xxxxxxxxxxx
Stephen
131
July 2014
Journeys | the essence
Accordion, viola, double
bass, violin: Members of the
Szászcsávás Band head for
a gig in the Transylvanian
village of Ceuas,.
roma
rhapsody
132 national GeoGraphic traveller inDia | July 2014
romania
Following the kings of

gypsy music straight into
the heart of Romania
by Pa n c r as D i j k
p h oto g r a p h s by b o g da n c r o i to r u

Music making is as
natural as breathing in
Zece Prăjini, where a
villager plays accordion
in a bedroom.

romania
U nder a starless night sky, the musicians are gathering.

For the past six hours, they’ve been playing at a party in
this small Gypsy, or Roma, village in the Moldavia region of nia, not the same country I have visited more than a dozen times
Romania. But now, with solemn expressions on their sweaty in the past decade. Welcome to the world of the Roma.
faces, the 12 men have one more important task to fulfil: to pay
tribute to a 60-year-old fellow villager who earlier in the day The village of Zece Prăjini is one of a kind—and not
took his last breath. just because of the many excellent musicians among its 400-some
At exactly midnight, they enter the large front yard of a tradi- inhabitants. It is said to be the only Romanian village with a 100
tionally built dwelling of clay. They take their positions between per cent Roma population; the church, built a decade ago entirely
some bent fruit trees and a wood fire heating a big kettle of cab- with donations by members of Fanfare Ciocărlia, claims to be the
bage. Tubas on the right, baritone horns in the middle, trumpets only Roma Eastern Orthodox church in the world. Next to the
and clarinet on the left. Firmly filling their lungs with air, the men church, Costel Cantea has a bar. He generously serves a sweet
known as Fanfare Ciocărlia—having performed in more than 60 vi inată de casa to visitors he happens to like. As he fills my glass
countries on five continents and enjoying a worldwide reputation a second time with this high-proof, house-made sour cherry li-
for being the fastest and wildest Gypsy brass band around—begin quor, he notices me looking for an ashtray. “Pancreas,” Costel says,
playing a farewell march to their neighbour. mispronouncing my name, “please, just throw it on the floor. Dirt
Searching for the roots of Roma music in a nation on Europe’s makes a bar look lively. You can’t have fun in a clean bar. Or what
edge has led me to this melancholy yard. Fifteen years ago, I fol- do you think, Pancreas?”
lowed my Romanian girlfriend to this country and since then have Romania has the largest population of Roma in Eastern
shared many joys as well as a loss or two, so I’m somewhat fa- Europe, estimated unofficially by the European Commission at
miliar with Romanian mourning habits: I spill some drops of the 1.85 million. Here, as elsewhere in Europe and the U.S., Roma
home-made wine, which the relatives of the deceased had passed are often viewed unfavourably. While enjoying a beer in a second
around, then raise my glass in acknowledgment of their grief. But village bar, I catch a TV news report about 400 Roma who are
my spontaneous libation isn’t repeated by anyone else, I notice. I about to be deported from Italy to Romania.
feel as if I’ve entered a parallel life, its sound track playing right in The reality of this Roma village contrasts markedly with what
front of me. It becomes obvious to me: This is a different Roma- the news anchors report about the miserable conditions in which
Visiting music fans

can stay at a Roma-
style guest house.

the Roma live in Italy, France, and other western European coun-
tries. In Zece Prăjini, earlier in the day, a woman picking apples Slapping and twisting
from a tree had offered me a handful of them when I passed her his legs in lightning fast
moves, a Roma dancer
yard. “Have some more,” she said, after I remarked that they tast-
performs for a tour
ed very sweet and juicy. group in a Ceuas, yard.
Zece Prăjini, meaning “ten acres,” has been breathing mu-
sic for over a century—quite literally, because unlike any other
Roma community, the inhabitants play brass instruments,
with the odd woodwind or percussion instrument thrown in.
Despite its small population, Zece Prăjini counts four brass
bands: Ciocărlia, Ciucar, Shavale, and Zece Prăjini—with all
shades of rivalry between them.
“Look at my hands,” says Lazăr Rădulescu, a trumpet player
and senior member of Fanfare Ciocărlia. “They’re way too big
and coarse to play something as delicate as a violin. We play
brass.” That’s been the tradition since the 1860s, when slavery
was abolished and each Roma family here was awarded ten
acres by a landlord.
Rădulescu, in his 60s, remembers his childhood as being full
of brass music, and he’s confident that the future will be no dif-
ferent. “Lots of our kids play instruments, too. They’re eager,
but also they see what prosperity it has brought us.” The young-
est generation of lăutari, or musicians, differs from the older
ones in one main aspect: They are taught at music schools in
the nearby city of Roman, and they are able to read music. So
how did you learn it? I asked several older musicians. Their
answers were always the same: “With the ears, from my father
and grandfather.”
I say goodbye to Moldavia and follow a route that crosses

the Carpathian Mountains at Cheile Bicazului, a spectacular,
1.6-kilometre stretch of road through a startlingly narrow pass,
flanked with walls of rock stretching 1,148 feet up to the sky.
Halfway through, in a spot where the canyon offers a bit more air
and is suddenly wide enough for more than just a two-lane road,
souvenir sellers display their wares, some of which are worth the
money: fine fabrics, wooden toys, decorated pottery. Dozens of
plastic Dracula tchotchkes make it clear I’ve reached the region
of Transylvania.
But I am going to meet God, not a vampire. With a worn-out
violin held loosely in one of his hands, he arrives right between
the welcoming glasses of strong horincă, plum brandy, and the
chunks of meat with salad and potatoes that compose my dinner
in the village of Ceuas‚, or Szászcsávás, as they call it in Hungar- I follow the music to the other side of the Prahova Valley,
ian, the dominant language in parts of Transylvania. The mousta- through the Carpathian crescent separating Transylvania and the
chioed, stern-looking Dumnezeu (God) has brought three of his historic region of Walachia. Near the Bulgarian border, I reach
disciples. Together they make up the Szászcsávás Band, a string the village of Clejani. The landscape has flattened, with cornfields
ensemble that plays old-style Hungarian and Romanian Gypsy stretching for miles. Clejani is the birthplace of the band that
music: a frantic rhythm with up to four melody lines, weaving gave me my first taste of Roma music: Taraf de Haïdouks. Ten
complex lyrical patterns. “At age four I held my first violin,” says years ago, I had watched them perform in Amsterdam. They were
Dumnezeu, the nickname that star violin player s‚tefan Iambor impressive on stage. After the show ended, they played on, asking
goes by. He formed his first ensemble at 13. the audience for some extra money. I was sold, for good.
“Your violin looks pretty old and maltreated,” I tell him, but he The musicians making up the Taraf de Haïdouks ensemble
tells me it is only two years old. “It was custom-made for me in happen to return home from a concert in Switzerland during my
Bucharest,” he says. Due to the intense way he plays, his instru- first day in the village. One by one, they get out of various taxis,
ments don’t grow old with him. “Music is an essential element dressed in shiny black suits, designer sunglasses hiding their eyes,
of our identity in this region. Far away from Western influences, with black hats atop their shiny black hair. They seem the odd
we were able to preserve the traditional, Hungarian-style Roma ones out, here in this dusty village. In fact, they hold this place
music. Even in Hungary you won’t find anyone playing this kind together. For many in Clejani, the group’s international fame is
of music anymore.” their main source of pride.

romania
The current star of Taraf de Haïdouks is Caliu, a violin player Clejani is close to the capital city of Bucharest, where, on the
with talents one could describe as either divine or diabolic. In the next evening, I decide to visit Club Fabrica, a trendy underground
evening some of the best Clejani musicians show off their skills in bar in the heart of the old city. While DJ Vasile (real name:
a long concert on the porch of a house that is still under construc- Lucian Stan) pumps his 21st-century dance beats into the
tion, like so many in this rapidly developing country. cramped club, my thoughts go back to the master violinists in
The music the Roma play in this village, epitomising a very Clejani and Ceuas‚, and the brass players in Zece Prăjini. Those
Romanian musical style, is characterised by the accordion and the last guys definitely generate more beats per minute than this DJ
cimbalom, a hammer dulcimer, played here at incredible speeds. can pull off, I realise.
During a break, I sit down next to the ensemble’s singer, the na- Suddenly, the sound of a violin comes out of nowhere.
tionally famous Vasile Dinu. As he wipes the sweat from his fore- To his mix of pumping bass and trance-like electronica, DJ
head with a white handkerchief, he has to endure perhaps the stu- Vasile has added a sample of what seems to be a sweet Roma
pidest question ever posed to him: “What are your lyrics about?” I melody. Two parallel universes sharing the same heartbeat
ask. The old man frowns and says, “Despre dragoste—About love.” collide into one.
What else could one possibly sing about, his tone implies.
As we’re chatting, some Roma women serve sarmale, spiced Adapted from a story that originally appeared in the Dutch
minced meat wrapped in cabbage. “We’ve been rolling them for edition of Nat Geo Traveler, where Pancras Dijk is a senior writer.
two days,” one of the ladies playfully complains. Photographer Bogdan Croitoru is based in Bucharest.

Journeys | taste of travel
ts, Shucks
Ea ,
&
leaves
Coll-Rivera/Dinodia
Quaffing oysters on Prince Edward Island, creates a connection

with the land and its organic produce
By Neha Sumitran
canada
(XXXXXXXXX)
Dinodia
Typically, oysters are farmed about three to five feet

below the ocean surface in baskets or cages that
are attached to floating buoys. The colder the water,
& MacKay/
the longer the oysters take to mature.

XXXXXXXXXXXX
Facing page: Oysters are served with all sorts of

garnishes—some even bake the shells under an
Barrett
avalanche of cheese. To really taste the essence of

an oyster, slurp it up raw, with a dash of lime.

The Canadian cold makes my hair stand on end.

It creeps into my jacket, grinds over my neck and shoulders, and
settles into the small of my back like an icy ball of metal. The wind
isn’t helping. It hurls itself at me in big, strong gusts, numbing my
ears and the tip of my nose.
“Think oysters,” I tell myself. “Plump, juicy oysters.” I soldier
on past the wooden pier, a souvenir shop, and a docked cruise
ship, until I reach a little log hut. My feet quicken when I hear
strains of Acadian music. I take the wooden stairs, two at a
time, until I am, finally, in the warmth of a heated bar. “Why,
hello there,” a young, blonde waitress says, simultaneously
opening the door and handing me a stiff shot of whisky. “The
oysters are over there.”
What a sight they are. Laid out on a six-foot-long table are
scores of Prince Edward Island’s finest oysters. I take a big swig
of my drink, feel the spirit burn its way down my throat, and
methodically make my way through the line-up. “Tabasco?” the
smiling man behind the counter asks. I shake my head. “Dash
of lime.” Nope. “Cream sauce?” I give him the death glare. “Just
give it to me straight,” I growl, like an addict demanding a hit.
Only a week ago, though, I was pretty sure I was not an oyster
person. I had a swanky Sunday brunch in Mumbai to thank
for that. Somewhere between plates of glistening pork spare
ribs and smoked duck, I had chanced upon my first oyster.
I regarded it with apprehension—it was unsettlingly jiggly
and a little smelly. But I had my reputation as a food writer to
consider, so I slurped up the contents with an open mind.
An uncomfortable minute later, I spat it out on my quarter
plate in the most dignified manner possible.
These Canadian lovelies are leagues apart. These are
Raspberry Points, a name that is usually mentioned in hushed
tones by lovers of the gnarly mollusc. Harvested in the chilled
waters off the coast of Prince Edward Island National Park,
Raspberry Point oysters are known for their plump, moist
flesh, their clean flavour, and their briny, lingering finish. Or
so a brochure told me. To me, they’re like salty, wet kisses.
And I can’t get enough.
I’m in Charlottetown, the capital of Prince Edward Island, a
crescent-shaped piece of land off the eastern coast of Canada.
The oysters are only one of the island’s many charms. Over the
last few days, I have picked chanterelle mushrooms in thickets
just outside town, gorged on Gouda under pine trees, and
sipped honey-lavender tea steeped in flowers I picked myself.
P.E.I., as the locals call their piece of paradise, is frequented
by Canadians from across the Northumberland Strait in Nova
Scotia and New Brunswick. The island isn’t too large—it is
roughly 224 km from tip to tip—but it has a vastness about
it that’s unlike any place I’ve been to. The fields stretch on
for miles, the beaches are endless, even the sky seems
larger. I sheepishly mention this to Scott, my new friend

Coll-Rivera/Dinodia
at the oyster bar, after slurping down my tenth oyster. He

chuckles politely, conveying a mix of warmth and confusion,
and says, “Wait until you see our moose and pumpkins. They’re
forces to reckon with.”
I encounter my first supersize pumpkin the very next day, on

canada
my way to Georgetown, another island county. It’s the colour Later that day we meet Captain Perry Gotellon, a lobster
of a ripe mango, and larger than a beanbag. I notice it lying fisherman who conducts boat tours to introduce hungry
on the side of the road, next to a hand-painted sign that says travellers like me to the island’s crisp, blue waters. Over
“Hello! Have a nice day.” Something about this sign with the poached lobster salad and beef sandwiches on his spiffy white
wonky, painted sunflower tugs at my heart. It’s not advertising boat, Gotellon talks about P.E.I.’s sustainable fishing methods.
anything, not urging me to buy anything—not even the The fishermen have a long list of rules to follow. They can
pumpkin. I stop and do the only thing I can think of. I joyfully only fish in certain zones, and must measure each and every
climb on top of it, feel its smooth orange skin against my cheek, crustacean they pick up. He hauls a trap out of the ocean to
and get my companion to take a picture. illustrate his point. There are four large lobsters, all pincers and
Prince Edward Island’s

landscapes are largely pastoral,
punctuated by pretty, pastel-
coloured homes with sloping
roofs and picket fences.
Rigoulet/Hemis/Corbis/Imagelibrary
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Gilles (XXXXXXXXX)

The island’s lobsters and mussels
are as popular as its oysters. At
cafés in Charlottetown, buckets of
steamed mussels and lobster-mayo
rolls are popular orders.
(XXXXXXXXX) Geographic/Getty images

S. Kennedy/National
Coll-Rivera/Dinodia
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Taylor

canada
beady eyes that threaten to pop out of their little lobster sockets
at the slightest provocation. Gotellon’s blue-eyed boat boy,
Andrew, flips the creature on its back, pointing to small, black,
caviar-like beads on its belly. “They’re eggs,” he says, allowing
me a closer look. “Which means this one’s a lady, and off limits.”
Lobster No. 2, he decrees, is also a no-go, because it’s too small,
suggesting it isn’t fully grown. Only one out of the four in the
trap checks out—an adult male—but he too goes back into the
ocean because fishing season doesn’t start for a few weeks.
I spend the afternoon cruising around Georgetown’s waters,
Dave Bartruff/Genesis Photos/Corbis (oyesters), Barrett & MacKay/Dinodia (fishing)

fishing for mackerel and soaking in the deliciously warm
sunlight. “It’s not rocket science why P.E.I.’s seafood tastes
so good,” Gotellon says, gesturing to the far shore. “Look at
this place.” To my right are thickets of pine trees. Farther
away are the deep red cliffs of Cavendish Beach. Above me,
Michelangelo clouds gently cruise the skies.
I feel a gentle tug at my rod, and a quick flick of the wrist
later, there’s a gleaming silver mackerel thrashing on the
deck. We make an impromptu ceviche with lime, sea salt,
and parsley, and the captain tells me about the lobster’s surge
in popularity. When he was growing up, Gotellon says, lobster
was poor man’s food. It was what he took to school almost every
day for lunch—mostly baked or poached with a dash of lime
and a loaf of bread—all the while wishing he could have a beef
sandwich like everybody else. Somewhere around the 1990s,
“some savvy marketing dude decided it was gourmet, and my
life changed”. He laughs out loud, as if two decades later, he is
still unsure of how the seafood revolution came to be. I polish
Oysters feed on plankton in the water, filtering water in the process.
off the last spoon of ceviche, savouring its sour tang. They reproduce when the water warms, and can change gender
A hurricane alert is sounded the following day, and happy, more than once in a lifetime (top); P.E.I.’s famous Raspberry Point
sunny P.E.I. has been reduced to swirls of grey and steady oysters (bottom) take about six years to mature.

Winters in P.E.I. are hard, with temperatures dipping as low as -20°C.

Fishing comes to a standstill at this time of year.
rain. My ocean education was due to continue with an oyster

harvester in the morning; the afternoon was to be spent feeding
pods of bluefin tuna. But the weather is playing spoilsport.
Determined not to stay cooped up in the hotel, I walk over
to the Charlottetown Farmers Market, about an hour from my
hotel in the city centre, stopping at stores along the way that
catch my eye. I browse through a comic-book store, sample
a frangipane tart at a hipster café, and coo over seashell
jewellery in a snow-white boutique. En route, I meet a Chinese
engineering student, an older gent who restores vintage
guitars, and a gangly twenty-something who tells me he’s only
two painting jobs away from financing a trip to Peru. They’re
all sunshine-happy. Armed with their recommendations, I
enter the gentle bustle of the market.
There’s the pork pierogi stall Huan, the engineering student,
vouched for. A few feet away, a man slices veils of salmon, and
carefully drapes them over bagels and cream cheese, like pink
tutus. Stalls sell brawny bratwurst sausages, Chinese spring
rolls, guacamole and fish tacos, slices of almond cake smeared
with fresh cream, even samosas (advertised as Canada’s
favourite snack). Pots of loveage, mint, lemon balm, and
lavender lend the air a heady aroma. Hand-painted signs say
things like “PEST FREE: We love our plants and our family!” finish. Their love for food is infectious and the morning’s
I nibble on plates of organic this and natural that. The fresh disappointment dissipates.
bounty would make a chef go weak in the knees. Before long, I am on the road again, driving past cabbage
Almost everybody I meet grows their own produce and is a patches and dancing fields on my way to Raspberry Point. A
fountain of information. I learn that more than 70 per cent of beautiful hour’s drive later, we pull up by a modest shack near
Barrett & MacKay/All Canada
the seaweed in the ocean is edible. From an elegant old lady the ocean. On a bench, two guys and a girl in navy-blue overalls
with an affinity for silver jewellery, I buy a bottle of teriyaki with shower caps on their heads, are munching on sandwiches.
Photos/Getty Images
seaweed pickle, seduced by its tart, mineral flavour. From Judy Like so many thriving businesses on the island, Raspberry
at the herb corner, I purchase cakes of rosemary-peppermint Point looks like a modest mom-and-pop shop, hardly the kind
soap shaped like starfish. And from Dan, who looks like a of place that exports four million oysters every year.
skinny Santa, I get a bottle of electric jam: a mix of raspberry, Inside, the smell of the ocean is like a double shot of
blueberry, and strawberry that Dan nurtures from seed to espresso. I am wide-eyed again, drinking in the sight of

canada
A good number of the islanders have their

roots in Acadia, a former French colony
in northeastern Canada known for its
musical traditions. When the Acadians
were expelled from their motherland by the
British in the 1700s, they sought refuge in
P.E.I. and its neighbouring islands. Acadian
music is a mix of bluegrass and
country-western fiddling.
thousands of freshly harvested oysters, waiting to be sorted and Raspberry Points, like all oysters, are natural filters, feeding
graded. Some will make their way to cafés on the island. Others on micro-algae and removing silt from the water. A single
will embark upon a longer journey to restaurants as far away as mollusc cleans about 190 litres of water every day. Understand-
New York City to be dressed and plated by Michelin-star chefs. ably, water has the biggest influence on an oyster’s flavour
A quick look-around later, I stroll on to oyster captain Scott’s profile. The murkier, or more polluted the water, the grislier the
barge, eager to be out on the water again. As we cruise out to oyster tastes. Reminded of the rubbery oyster I encountered in
Barrett & MacKay/Dinodia
sea, I see wooden poles sticking out of the water every few feet. Mumbai, I find myself wondering where my food comes from.
These are markers for spots where the molluscs are harvested Scott jumps over the side of the barge—the water is only
in baskets. I steady myself against the boat’s wheel. The water about five feet deep—and pulls up something that looks like a
is getting choppy. Every time the barge hits a trough, a spray plastic crate. Inside, about a dozen, misshapen, moss-covered
of water hits my face. My hair is damp and wild, and I have a oysters are snuggled together. They look like green rocks.
huge smile plastered on my face. I learn that oysters harvested closer to the surface feed on

Barrett & MacKay/All Canada Photos/Getty Images (fruit picking), Darwin Wiggett . First Light/Corbis/Imagelibrary (cabbage)
more plankton, and have a stronger seaweed flavour. Ones that
mature on the ocean floor, near rocks, have mineral notes, while
those suspended in baskets a few feet beneath the surface have
a higher salt content. Like grapes, oysters soak up the flavours
of their environment.
As we talk about P.E.I.’s blessed terroir—a mix of sand, water,
and climate—the sun suddenly peeks out of the clouds. Scott
gestures to the water and my jaw drops. Every inch of the ocean
floor around the barge, for as far as my eyes can see, is blan-
keted with oysters. Millions of them, patiently sitting around.
The moment is too perfect to pass up. I ask Scott whether I
can have an oyster right now. He obliges with a crooked smile,
picking a particularly gnarly looking shell from the floor.
I memorise the details of the moment: the coolness of the
P.E.I. afternoon, the crooked wooden plank under my orange
sneakers, the touch of ocean spray on my face. I focus on the
transparent waters, the blue sky, and roughness of the oyster in
my hands. Its flesh glistens, like fruit glazed with sugar syrup.
I gulp one half down, and slowly savour the next, smacking
my lips when I am done. I feel deeply connected with my food.
My week in Prince Edward Island culminates at the
International Shellfish Festival in the heart of Charlottetown.
With enthusiastic locals, large families from Nova Scotia, and
cruise-liner guests docked for the evening, I gorge on buckets
of simple, steamed mussels and Caesars (a coastal take on the
Bloody Mary made with clam-tomato juice). I have broiled
lobster, rosemary crab cakes, soup garnished with tangy
seaweed, crunchy squid salad, and apple pie made with fruit
from an orchard I visited a few days ago. In this beautiful meal,
the produce is clearly the star. What makes my night however,
is the fact that I know exactly where each ingredient on my Family-run farms offer tourists a walk-around and the chance to
plate comes from. pick fruit and vegetables.

canada
P.E.I. has a Giant Pumpkin Growers Association,

which hosts a competitive weigh-off around
Thanksgiving every year. Winners for the last five
years have all been upwards of 400 kilos.
john sylvester/dinodia

The Guide
Orientation
The Canadian Province of Prince Edward Island is a small isle that sits pretty in the North Atlantic
Ocean’s Gulf of St. Lawrence, north of the Nova Scotia peninsula. The crescent-shaped island is STAY
spread over 5,656 sq km, and is separated from mainland Canada by the Northumberland Strait.
Charlottetown is the capital of P.E.I, or the Gentle Island as it is also called.
The Holman Grand is

Getting there Charlottetown, as well as documents are available at www.
a plush, contemporary,
Charlottetown is the chief ferry services connecting vfsglobal.ca/canada/india.
centrally located hotel
airport of P.E.I., and is well Caribou in Nova Scotia to Getting around in Charlottetown,
connected to Toronto (2 hours), Island Woods in P.E.I. (1 hour Renting a car is the best way across the street from
Halifax (40 mins), and Montreal 15 mins). Nova Scotia makes to get around the island. the Confederation
(1 hour 40 mins). There are for a lovely day trip. Roads are in mint condition, Centre of the Arts.
no direct flights from India to Visa the pastoral landscapes are Rooms have hardwood
Canada; there is a mandatory A tourist visa for Canada captivating, and the locals are flooring and are
layover in Europe or the U.S. is issued to travellers for a helpful with directions. Buses equipped with flat-
The journey takes at least maximum period of six months. ply in and around the capital screen televisions,
20 hours including layovers. It costs `5,900, and the mini of Charlottetown but other sunken bathtubs, and
P.E.I. is connected to mainland mum processing time is 10 parts of P.E.I., like Georgetown, iPod docking stations
Canada by the Confederation working days. However, it is best have no local transport. Cabs (+1902-367-7777; www.
Bridge. There are shuttle buses to apply 30 days in advance. are available on call but are theholmangrand.com;
(4 hours) between Halifax and Forms and a list of required quite pricey. doubles from `10,000).
Delta Prince Edward

May-September October-April is by the Charlottetown
Harbour, and affords
Max: 22°C, Min: 4°C Max: 7°C, Min: -12°C
views of the ocean,
yachts, and cackling
Around mid-May, spring arrives in P.E.I. Ponds thaw out, Shades of auburn and ochre fill P.E.I.’s palette around
seagulls. Unfortunately,
layers are shed, and locals swap heavy winter coats for the end of September, when autumn sets in. The days
the hotel also has a
flannel shirts. Temperatures range between 8 and 22°C, are clear and bright with temperatures ranging between
and it gets progressively warmer from there. Summer 8 and 20°C. Winter is harsher. Days are bleak and the wing with less inspiring
months (July-August) are bright and sunny. On occa- average temperature is around -10°C. views of buildings. The
sion, the mercury cross the 30° mark, giving residents Delta is pleasant but
much to cheer about. in need of a facelift
(+1902-566-2222;
www.deltahotels.com/
Hotels/Delta-Prince-
P.E.I. has 63 lighthouses, Edward; doubles from
the highest concentration of
`7,500).
lighthouses in any province or state
in North America.
The Great George is
a heritage boutique
hotel that dates back to
1857. Inside its rooms,
old-world charms like
claw-footed bathtubs
share space with sleek
flat-screen tellies. It’s
the sort of place where
you could curl up with
Barrett & MacKay/Dinodia
a book in front of a
traditional fireplace,
because some rooms
actually have one
(+1902-892-0606;
thegreatgeorge.com;
doubles from `9,000).

Get Going 150 152
THE WALK ADVENTURE
BREAKFAST AT THE VOLCANIC A BEGINNER’S GUIDE TO COASTEERING
MOUNT BATUR IN INDONESIA TRIPS THAT EXPLORE ROCKY SHORELINES
MARC HILL/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE (COASTEERING), WANTET/GETTY IMAGES (MOUNT BATUR)

XXXXXXXXXXX
xx 152
149
JULY 2014
Get Going | INDONESIA
The Walk
iNTeNsiTY THIs Is A LEIsURELY HIKE WITH NO sTEEP CLIMBs, EXCEPT AT THE
2000
The year
Mount Batur
last erupted
Easy Moderate Demanding

VERY END. IT CAN TAKE 1-2 HOURs EACH WAY.
The most imposing sight on the Mount Batur

trek is Mount Agung, an active volcano and
Bali's highest mountain (3,148 m). Its last
major eruption in 1963 left parts of the island
uninhabitable for years.
BUBBLING HOT BREAKFAST

T
Sunrise at the volcanic Mount here’s a certain holiday i envisioned with the mention of Bali. it
included sunny beaches overlooking crystal-clear water, ornate
Batur unveils the beauty of the temples with decades of history, and traditional dances telling
Balinese landscape stories of years gone by. to top it all, there would be water sports
to excite even a non-swimmer like me.
BY FAYE RODRIGUES So why was i packing a pair of sports shoes in my suitcase? two
dudarev mikhail/ShutterStock
words: Mount Batur. it is an active volcano in northeastern Bali, whose

1,717-metre summit is the perfect point from where to witness the sunrise.
the thrill of climbing a volcano with a very real chance of erupting
cemented it in my itinerary.
the adventure started at 3 a.m., when a friend and i climbed into a car
that would take us from ubud in southwest Bali to the base of the volcano.
as the car sneaked through dark lanes during the hour-long drive, we
keenly watched the starry sky, awaiting a glimpse of Mount Batur. all i

could think about along the way
was that the volcano had erupted
a mere 14 years ago. Just a short
while later we were standing at
its base, warming ourselves with
strong Balinese coffee. The tour
guide geared us up for the trek
with a torch, a bottle of water, and
advice about sticking to the path.
The moonlight barely pierced
through the tall trees on the dark
night as we followed the guides
closely up the narrow trail. Loose
rocks dotted the path, but posed
no danger because we spotted
them easily with the torches
strapped around our wrists. The
three-hour hike wasn’t very taxing,
getting steep only towards the end.
Just as we reached the summit,
the night sky started transitioning
to a deep blue, and a welcome atlas
yellow line marked the horizon.
Bali,
The rays of the morning sun
Indonesia
slowly began filling the sky.
The immense Lake Batur and
the many villages spread around it
came out of hiding. The baby-blue
sky was reflected in the crystalline
water of Bali’s largest crater lake.
The towering Mount Agung, the
island nation’s highest point and Pura Ulun
almost twice the stature of Mount Danu Batur,
Batur, loomed before us. Now one of
Bali’s most
that it was light, our guides took
important
us across the top of the volcano,
temples, used
allowing us a peek into the safer to be located
craters. We didn’t see bubbling
SeppFriedhuber/E+/getty images (volcano), kbg/allover images/alamy/india picture (hut)

in the caldera
lava, but the steaming chunks of at the foot of
black rock served just as well to The Mount Batur volcano (top) consists of three craters—Batur I, II, and III—that Mount Batur.
are constantly being reshaped by eruptions. The last eruption in 2000 emitted a
remind me that we were standing 300-metre-high ash cloud over the volcano; A small wooden shack (bottom) near
The shrine to
on an explosive tract of land. the summit of Mount Batur is frequented by hikers, who come for the hearty the goddess
Thankfully, there was breakfast breakfast and sunrise views. of Lake Batur
to distract us. It is difficult to beat was moved to
an adjacent
the experience of eating tropical Bali sun forced us to make our Now, when I think of the island,
ridge after it
mangosteen fruit, bread, and eggs way back down. Blame it on the I picture a glistening crater lake
was almost
(freshly boiled in the steam of the hearty breakfast or the adrenaline protected by two active volcanoes, completely
volcano), facing that majestic view. coursing through our veins, but we Together, they preserve the charm destroyed by
Soon enough, though, the all had a noticeable spring in our of old-world Bali, unmatched by an eruption
impending harshness of the step while descending. any other attraction. in 1926.
The Vitals
The access point to Mount Batur is Kintamani, 35 km/1 hour northeast of Ubud. Several tour companies organise the sunrise trek to
the volcano (IDR 4,50,000-7,50,000/`2,200-3,800 per head). The writer travelled with Bali Sunrise Tours, and the package included
pick-up and drop to the hotel, coffee, water, snacks, and a torch. The guides were friendly and helpful (www.balisunrisetours.com; IDR
5,50,000/`2,770 from Ubud). Alternatively, tourists can make their way to Kintamani and hire a guide there. Climbing Mount Batur
without a guide is not advisable.

Get Going | WORLD
Adventure
INTENSITY STRENUOUS ROUTES INVOLVE ROCK CLIMBING, SWIMMING IN
1973
The year
the term
coasteering
was coined
Easy Moderate Demanding

THE SEA, AND OCCASIONALLY, STEEP HIKES.
BETWEEN A ROCK
AND A WET PLACE
CAMERA LUCIDA LIFESTYLE (COASTEERING IN WALES), MARC HILL/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE (WALKING ON THE EDGE),
Explore tricky shorelines on a coasteering expedition
C
oasteering is an adventure natural wealth but usually inaccessible.
DOUG MCKINLEY/GETTY IMAGES (JUMPING), GAIL JOHNSON/ SHUTTERSTOCK (ZIP LINING)

on slow burn. It has the Easier routes can be attempted by
adrenaline rush of an anyone with a reasonable amount of
extreme sport but requires stamina, but tougher ones are best left
the patience of a marathon runner. to those who are very fit and possess
The activity involves travelling basic rock-climbing skills. Coasteering has its perils, but with adequate
along a region’s coastline through a protective gear and the guidance of trained
combination of sporting feats like Getting started professionals, it is relatively safe. Children
hiking and swimming. over the age of 12 are allowed to participate
on many coasteering locations, making it a
Participants usually require a wet suit,
popular family activity.
What is it? climbing shoes, life jacket, helmet, and
protective gear like knee and elbow Australia, New Zealand, Canada,
Coasteering entails exploring an pads. Since expeditions cover rough South Africa, and the United States.
area that is full of seaside cliffs, rock terrain and choppy seas, it’s best to Pembrokeshire on the Welsh coast and
formations, and tidal pools. Participants go with experts. Cornwall in southwestern England are
traverse or climb slippery rock faces, considered the foremost coasteering
hike over uneven surfaces and through Where? destinations in the world. A number
caves, zip line between cliffs, and wade of adventure companies all over
through or jump into the sea to make Coasteering has become popular with the U.K. run daily expeditions ( from
a crossing. The expeditions are a great thrill seekers along the rocky coasts £40/ `4,100) that last from a few
way to explore places that are full of of the United Kingdom, as well as hours to a full day.

xx
161 xx
162
Short Breaks154 160 161 162

kanyakumari eco-stay heritage stay kodaikanal
photo courtesy: deogarh mahal (people), Muthuraman Vaithinathan/Alamy/Indiapicture (flowers),

coloured sands and a virgin goddess lessons in sustainable farming stories by the fireside in deogarh a hill station called home
Siddharth Sahani/Getty Images (monument)
xx 154
Short Breaks | from chennai
SOUTHERN Comfort
heritage
in Kanyakumari, tricoloured sands and the goddess who got stood up

at her wedding | By lakshmi sharath
2+
DAy
S
My earliest memory of Kanyakumari is the distance, windmills covered by a veil of ocean The rock atop which the
of an old palm reader selling packets of coloured spray dance to the tune of the sea breeze. the Vivekananda memorial
is situated, is chock-
sand on the beach. i was then a wide-eyed sun eventually makes an appearance only to be full of Hindu legends.
12-year-old collecting seashells when the old swallowed by the dark twilight clouds hanging devotees believe this
woman asked me, “look at the oceans. can you over the horizon. was where Goddess
see a mix of red, black, and blue?” She told me the sea lures me back to the beach, which Kanyakumari meditated
to please Lord Shiva,
the red was the indian ocean, the blue, the Bay wears the colours of dusk. at the main bazaar
seeking to marry him.
of Bengal, and the black was the arabian Sea. all overlooking the Kanyakumari amman temple, Shripad Parai, a projec-
i could see then was a vast azure expanse. the energy is pervasive. conch painters and rice tion on the rock, is
Several years later, as i visit the southernmost engravers are everywhere, but i make my way venerated as the foot of
tip of the indian mainland where the three water towards the temple of the fierce virgin goddess the goddess.
bodies converge, those memories come flooding who has lent her name to the coastal town.
Jaume Juncadella/age Fotostock/dinodia
back. i am fascinated by the sands from the three

seas, tinged in various shades of ochre. a sea EXPLORE
of vendors is selling everything from stories to
souvenirs. i am reminded that in Kanyakumari GODS AND MORTAlS the Kanyakumari Amman
two moments are priceless: sunrise and sunset. Temple is dedicated to the young maiden
With luck, i might catch the moon rise just as the incarnation of goddess parvati. it is believed that
sun is setting. lord Shiva stood her up on their wedding day
i get away from the crowd on the beach to a because of a plot by the other gods who wanted
small fishing hamlet close by for an exclusive her to kill a demon as prophesied. She did kill the
appointment with the sun. i am just in time. in demon, but vowed to remain a virgin throughout

kanyakumari
life. Infuriated, she cursed her wedding prepar-

ations, including the rice and the grains, which
are supposed to have turned into shells and
conches. The turmeric and vermilion that were
left behind colour Kanyakumari’s variously hued The king, impressed by De Lannoy’s bravery, The virgin Kanyakumari
is considered the
sands. I am told that the deity’s diamond nose appointed him a commander in his own army.
goddess of renunciation
ring glows so brilliantly that many a passing ship The Dutch officer then trained the soldiers (sanyas). All images
has assumed it is the beam from a lighthouse and helped them defeat local and European and the deity inside the
(daily 4.30 a.m.-12.30 p.m. and 4 p.m.-8 p.m.). opponents. Despite the fascinating backstory, the Kumari Amman Temple
A few minutes from the temple is Gandhi fort itself is neither imposing nor formidable. Yet, (left) show her with
prayer beads in hand;
Mandapam, a memorial that marks the place the sky and the sea merge into an uninterrupted The architectural style
where Mahatma Gandhi’s ashes were stored in an fabric of blue, and the silence is music to my ears of Gandhi Mandapam
urn before being immersed into the sea. A local (daily 8 a.m.-7 p.m.; entry free). (right) resembles that
tells me that I should visit on 2 October, when The beautiful Padmanabhapuram Palace of Odisha temples.
The height of the
the sun’s rays fall directly at the spot where the is 35 km/45 min northeast of Kanyakumari.
central dome is 79 feet,
urn was kept. I promise myself that I will visit The wooden palace is nestled inside a fortress, representing Gandhi’s
again (daily 7 a.m.-7 p.m.; entry free). ringed in by the Western Ghats. Built in 1600 by
anders blomqvist/alamy/indiapicture (man), nick williams/moment/getty images (temple)

age when he died.
A ferry from the Kanyakumari jetty takes King Ravi Varma, Padmanabhapuram was the
visitors to the Vivekananda Rock Memorial. The erstwhile capital of Travancore state. A 300-year-
philosopher came here to meditate and legend old clock tower, which still functions, offers a
says that he swam 200 metres to the rock. The vantage point from where to consider the many
ferry begins early in the morning, and although structures within the complex. The Mantrasala
it’s just a ten-minute journey, the ticket queue served as the chambers for the king’s council,
is often so long that it can take hours to get on while the Natakasala was the performance hall.
board. I spend a few minutes at the memorial’s A small room of solitude, Ekantha Mandapam,
meditation centre but it is the sea that brings me opens into another room full of jackfruit wood
peace even as the restless waves lash against the pillars, brass lamps, and a singular cot made of
rocks (daily 8 a.m.-4 p.m.; entry `54). 60 pieces of wood from medicinal trees (Tue-Sun
9 a.m.-1 p.m. and 2 p.m.-4.30 p.m.; entry `25).
AROUND TOWN After a day around the coast, My next destination is an olfactory roller
I head to a fort that extends into the sea. coaster. A riot of colours blinds me at Thovalai
Vattakottai in Tamil means “circular fort”. Flower Market, one of the largest floral bazaars
Located 8 km/15 min northeast of Kanyakumari, in south India (20 km/30 min north of
this 18th-century granite structure was built Kanyakumari). I reach around auction time,
under the supervision of Eustachius De Lannoy, at 7.30 a.m., when mounds of marigold vie for
a naval commander in the Dutch East India attention with rose garlands. But Thovalai’s pride
Company. De Lannoy led a charge against is pichi vellai, dewy white jasmine blossoms. I
Travancore’s Maharaja Marthanda Varma, but watch as bargains are struck and sparrows have
was defeated at the Battle of Colachel in 1741. a field day hopping among the buds.

ip-black/indiapicture
Visitors to the Vivekananda

Rock Memorial often meditate
at the temple inside.
156 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | July 2014

kanyakumari
Thanumalayan Temple in Suseendram, about 12 kilometres from Kanyakumari, has intricate frescoes and murals depicting episodes from the
epics, but it is an 18-foot statue of Hanuman and four “musical pillars” that draw most visitors.
STAY & EAT unique experience
As a prominent tourist destination, Kanyakumari is full of resorts and hotels.

Some travellers prefer to stay in in Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala, and make a
day trip to the southern town. However, if you’d like to explore Kanyakumari
and its surroundings better, it is advisable to stay there. Rack rates during
peak season (mid-Dec to mid-Jan) vary vastly from off-season rates, so
always remember to ask for discounts.
Sparsa Resort has the advantage of a great location; it is right on the
beach at Sunset Point and offers fine views of the sea. The resort has 46
rooms and two villas. The facilities include a swimming pool and health club
(04652-247041; www.sparsaresorts.com/kanyakumari_resort.html; doubles
from `4,500).
Tamil Nadu Tourism Corporation’s Hotel Tamil Nadu Kanniyakumari is one
Vadasseri temple jewellery
of the oldest properties in town. Its spacious rooms, great views, convenient
I am in a sleepy lane behind a bustling jewellery
location, and competitive prices make it a favourite among tourists (Light
market in Vadasseri, Nagercoil, about 20km/30
House Main Road; 04652-246257/91769 95850; www.ttdconline.com;
min northwest of Kanyakumari. After knocking
doubles from `2,100). on a few doors, I locate the goldsmiths who
Gopi Nivas Grand is located a few minutes from the beach as well as have been crafting temple jewellery for
Kanyakumari Amman Temple. The hotel’s facilities include a swimming centuries. The men are busy making garnet-
pool, gym, and complimentary Wi-Fi (near seashore; 04652-246161; studded earrings (jimmikkis), hair ornaments
www.thegopinivasgrand.com; doubles from `2,650). (raakodi), and the traditional sun- and moon-
Most hotels have restaurants that serve palatable south- and north-Indian shaped pieces which form the netichutti.
fare, but if you look a little further, you’re certain to find a cuisine of your Temple jewellery—crafted in silver and gold
choice. The Seashore Hotel’s Ocean Restaurant (East Car Street, 04652- leaf—was traditionally designed for deities,
Lakshmi Sharath
246704; www.theseashorehotel.com) and Sparsa Resort’s Aroma Restaurant but is today worn by classical dancers. I come
are recommended for fresh seafood. For vegetarians, Triveni Tourist Home away dazzled by a swan studded with colourful
(Main Road; 04652-246161; www.trivenitouristhome.chobs.in) has a pure stones, and a bejewelled snake.
vegetarian restaurant that serves nice idlis and dosas.

In the 1740s, Dutch naval commander Eustachius De Lannoy built several forts such as Vattakottai, about eight kilometres from Kanyakumari. He
also constructed Travancore Lines, a 40-kilometre fortification that would have been in present-day Kochi had it survived.
The Guide
Orientation
Kanyakumari is a coastal
town located on the
southernmost tip of the Indian
mainland in Tamil Nadu. It
is about 700 km/11 hours
southwest of Chennai and
90 km/2 hours southeast
of Thiruvananthapuram in
Kerala. The closest town
is Nagercoil—20 km/30
minutes away—which is also
the administrative capital of
Kanyakumari district.
Getting there
Air The closest airport is at
Thiruvananthapuram, Kerala,
connected by daily flights from
dinodia photo (trees), urmimala nag (map)
major Indian cities including of 12 hours and the one-way Seasons begins in early June, and the
Bengaluru and Mumbai. fare is approximately `650. Kanyakumari has moderate constant drizzle makes it very
Rail Kanyakumari is a major weather for most of the year, pleasant. Winter (Nov-Feb),
railhead, and is connected Getting around making it an ideal tourist is a great time to visit as well,
to several cities by train, Taxis are the preferred mode destination almost all year because the landscape is lush
including the Kanyakumari of transport, because unlike round. However, summers after the monsoon showers,
Express that departs daily buses, they can take you can be a bit hot and humid, and temperatures rarely cross
from Mumbai. to the town’s nooks and especially between April 25°C. The town is prone to
Road Deluxe buses connect crannies. Autorickshaws are and May, when the average cyclones, so always check
Chennai and Kanyakumari. also available. Most hotels can daytime temperatures hover weather information before
The journey takes a minimum organise transport. around 25-33°C. The monsoon heading out.

Short Breaks | stay
Garden Variety
maharashtra
Mumbai Saguna Baug
A bullock-cart ride, angling, and tips on sustainable

farming at Saguna Baug | By Denise Sankhe
G eco-friendly
the distance. Buffaloes nod

as you make your way to the
dining area, where a hearty
Maharashtrian breakfast
awaits. The farm also has
a range of delicious, home-
Two hours outside the farm. Aside from veggies, exposed rocks and watched made pickles, preserves,
Mumbai, the dream of I picked up a few tips about the water and the hours and squashes for sale. The
a Gandhian freedom farming experiments, medi flow by. weekend that I was there,
fighter lives on. Saguna cinal plants, and fish farming Mornings at Saguna Baug Saguna had a bumper har
Baug, spread over 16 on the in-house tour. If proved to be idyllic. I’d vest of bananas and extra
acres of verdure in Neral, you’d rather spend time with wake up at the Pond House milk, so I promptly stocked
is the legacy of Harikaka the farm’s more animated (pictured) to the misty sight up for the week ahead. I
Bhadsavle, who believed residents, you can visit the of a paddling of ducks. On a couldn’t stay on at Saguna,
in self-sufficient farming. dairy, hop on to a bullock clear day you can even make but a part of Saguna came
Today his son runs this cart or a horse for a ride, or out Matheran hill station in home with me.
sustainable agro-tourism hang out with big birds at
farm with the same ideology. the emu farm close by.
The Vitals
Being interested in agro- My favourite activity—
tourism, I decided to spend besides gorging on delicious Accommodation Saguna Baug has many options. There are
Jinesh Udani (cottage), Denise Sankhe (artwork)
an extended weekend at country chicken curry— rustic cottages with pretty Warli designs on the walls, but the
Saguna during the onset of was rod-fishing. A five- two-roomed Pond House, is the most charming of the lot.
the monsoon. minute trail leads to a Its warm earth colours and lovely setting in the middle of a
On my arrival, I was clearing on the Ulhas River, water body make it the most sought-after option, so book
greeted with the warmest where I discovered I was an well in advance. (Also remember to take your own towels
smile and a refreshing glass excellent angler. At my first and toiletries.)
of sherbet, flavoured with try, I reeled in a yellow-and- Getting there Neral is 67 km/1 hour 40 minutes from Mumbai.
A convenient option is to board an early morning Karjat-bound
kokum grown a few metres pink beauty. But the farm
local train from Dadar or Kurla station. Neral is the second-last
away. The farm workers hand and I both agreed that stop on the line, from where a 20-minute autorickshaw ride will
gladly allow you to help it was just too pretty to be take you to Saguna Baug (93707 02932/92093 13174; www.
them pick fresh greens from let out of the water, so we let sagunabaug.com; doubles from `1,250, including meals.)
the vegetable patches around him swim away. I sat on the

Short Breaks | STAY
FABLED MANSION RAJASTHAN

Jaipur
Stories by the fireside at Deogarh Mahal Deogarh Mahal
By Shikha Tripathi Udaipur
 ROMANTIC | HERITAGE
The town of Deogarh Sawai Pratap Singh, Madho a striking storyteller and the pounded lamb, marinated
is often overshadowed by Singh I’s younger son, who younger scion of the Singh and skewered on charcoal.
Jaipur and Udaipur, its stayed in Deogarh as a boy family that owns the palace. Long after the fire died, I
famous neighbours. But for to escape political intrigues His tales of family lore, told retired to my room, feeling
history buffs, a trip to the back home. According to around the courtyard fire, a bit like a royal myself. For
palace of Deogarh Mahal is another legend, trained were mesmerising. The me, Deogarh Mahal isn’t lost
a worthy expedition. Built monkeys served as live fire experience was enhanced among the countless palaces
in 1670, the palace was a alarms at the palace. by maans ka sula, a smoky of Rajasthan; I would gladly
bastion of the Rawats, one Later, I signed up for a local delicacy made from pick it of the lot again.
of the 16 feudal families of jeep tour (`1,300 for two)
Mewar. Experience its many around Deogarh’s vast, arid THE VITALS
tales through an audio tour stretches, up stubby hills
(`250 per person), which is and past bullock-operated Accommodation There are four categories of rooms at
open to non-resident guests sesame oil presses. On my Deogarh Mahal, including 25 deluxe rooms (`8,500), an equal
as well. It is a lively exchange return, I relaxed around number of deluxe suites (`11,000), four royal suites (`14,500),
hosted by author-historian a bonfire in the central and the exquisite Maharana suite (`25,000). While equipped
PHOTO COURTESY: DEOGARH MAHAL
William Dalrymple and the courtyard where the marble with mod cons, the rooms retain the flourish of the palace, in
late Rawat Nahar Singh II, Deogarh throne is displayed. the form of beautiful antique doors and knockers. Artefacts like
a member of the Deogarh The bar is next door, but the lamps and old paintings adorn the walls and bedside tables.
royal family. Through it, stunning miniature paintings Getting there Deogarh Mahal is 545 km/7 hours southwest of
I learnt that the palace is in the Chitrashala wing Delhi and 145 km/3 hours north of Udaipur, which is the closest
said to be the inspiration opposite had my attention. airport. Hotel guides will escort guests from Deogarh town to the
for Jaipur’s legendary Hawa One evening during my hotel property (02904-252777/3333; www.deogarhmahal.com).
Mahal, commissioned by stay, I met Shatrunjai Singh,
JULY 2014 | NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA 161

Short Breaks | from bengaluru
The Joy of Small Things

the insider
Stunning views, flocks of cuddly sheep, smoked garlic—that’s what

Kodaikanal is about | By Dilanie D
Kodaikanal is one among many hill stations in the Palani Hills of Tamil Nadu. Its popularity as a summer getaway dates back to the British era.
It is chilly outside, and the only thing that interrupts or wild boar. Despite the tourist influx, this little haven radiates
the silence is the sporadic hoot of an owl or a frog’s ribbit. I’m serenity. It may seem like there isn’t much to do, but growing
snuggling with a mug of hot coffee, and reminiscing about this up here I learnt to appreciate the small things in life, although,
hill station I call home. they really aren’t that small—watching the sun rise over the
Kodaikanal is a tiny, touristy town engulfed by mist and hills, sitting by the glistening lake with coffee, dew-kissed
thickets of pine and eucalyptus. The scarlet rhododendron mornings. Or visiting the Sunday market along P.T. Road to
blooms riotously once in a while, the weather is always stock up on cheese and smoke-dried garlic. Here are a few ideas
pleasant, and there’s wildlife in the form of the occasional bison to give travellers a fresh insight into my hill station hometown.
f9photos/shutterstock
The Vitals
Kodaikanal is a hill station in Tamil Nadu 450 km/8 hours from Bengaluru and 522 km/9 hours from Chennai. Frequent buses
connect the hill station to both these metros. The closest airports are Madurai (114 km/3 hours) and Coimbatore (172 km/4 hours).
Kodaikanal Road Station (80 km/2 hours) is the closest railway station, connected to most major cities in south India.
162 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | july 2014

kodaikanal
four ways to explore

chow down momos trek to the top
A visit to Kodi isn’t complete Locals visit Pillar Rocks just

until you’ve had a meal at as often as travellers, but
The Royal Tibet restaurant, instead of viewing the pillars
affectionately called Tibs. from the deck, we hike to the
Located at the bottom of P.T. top of the pillars themselves.
Road, Tibs is a local landmark. The path is almost hidden,
Walk inside and you’re and only residents know
welcomed with the aromas about it. The 15-minute uphill
of fried chicken momos, chow walk is worth the effort. You’ll
mein, and chilli beef—all find yourself in the midst of
highly recommended as is the woodland, with the entire
Tibetan bread. Wash down the world in front of you. The hike
delectable food with some hot is slightly risky, since there’s
lime-honey tea (open 11 a.m.- a steep drop on the left the
8.30 p.m.; meal for two `500). entire way. But the view
Pastry Corner, or P.C., on from the top of the pillars is
Bazaar Road is another Kodi breathtaking. It’s best not to
institution. The best time to carry any food, as there are
visit is in the afternoon when several monkeys in the area
a fresh stock of pastries arrive, (taxi to Guna Caves about
making this shop on the main `250; the path begins behind
road leading up to the bus the ticket counter for the
stop, easy to sniff out (open caves; local guides available in
10 a.m-6 p.m.). the vicinity or via local travel
agents for `150).
score some Cheese
picnic with sheep
A Kodi picnic is incomplete
without cheese, and there's Drive 30 km/1 hour west
plenty on offer. Spencer’s of Kodi to the Southern
supermarket stocks a popular Regional Research Centre
local brand called Kodai in the stunning village of
Cheese, which has hard Mannavanur, also known
Cheddar, Parmesan, and softer as Bison Valley. The 1,346-
ricotta-like varieties. Caroselle acre property is a picturesque
Dairy, founded by an Italian- picnic spot with misty
mahesh/moment open/getty images (sheep), Shivakumar Shankar (cliffs),

American lady who settled mountains in the background,
in Kodaikanal, makes cheese flocks of adorable sheep, and
aged with microbial rennet a shimmering, heart-shaped
(and not from young calves as lake in the centre. It is a great
is usually the case), so they’re place to drop off the grid,
wholly vegetarian. Stock up since mobile coverage is aroon thaewchatturat/alamy/indiapicture (Food)
on their Gouda and feta from scarce. There are several other
smaller shops across the hill lakes as well and they’re all
station (carosellecheese.com/ brimming with trout. Fishing
varieties-.html). Cinnabar is enthusiasts can bring their
a homestay run by K. Bala- own gear and try their luck. It
krishnan and his wife who host is also possible to stay over
cheese-making courses. They night at Mannavanur, though
are known for their Cinnamano, Among the many species of sheep at the Mannavannur Sheep the facilities are fairly basic
a hard, Italian-style cheese, and Farm (top), is the Bharat Merino, prized for the softness of its wool; (taxis charge `1,200 for the
Between the two boulders of Pillar Rocks (middle) is a bat-infested
Cinnableu, a blue cheese like round trip to Mannavanur;
cave that the locals call Devil’s Kitchen; Tibs’ Tibetan food (bottom) is
English Stilton (cinnabar.in). the stuff of Kodi legend. The restaurant is especially popular with the www.kodaikanalcampersclub.
—Kamala Thiagarajan students of Kodaikanal’s boarding schools. com; 94444 77358).
july 2014 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA 163

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Inspire | croatia

Plitvice
Waterfalls
Plitvice Lakes National
Park, Croatia
slovenia
Croatia
Plitvice
Waterfalls
Bosnia-
herzegovina
Italy
It’s hard to decide what’s

more striking about Plitvice
Waterfalls: the shimmering
cascades or the 16 lakes
that they connect. Among
Croatia’s top tourist
destinations, Plitvice is a
web-like network of lakes
and falls in varying shades
of turquoise and green. The
water bodies are nestled
within the limestone and
dolomite hills of Plitvice
Lakes National Park and are
separated by rocks formed
by erosion over thousands of
years. The natural dams have
a gradual descent giving
the falls a surreal step-like
appearance and earning
the region UNESCO World
Heritage status. The highest
fall, Veliki Slap, has a drop
of 78 metres but there are
thousands of others that
swell seasonally. The lakes
are fuelled by underground
channels and rainwater
run-off. Criss-crossing
Plitvice Park is a series of
interconnected walkways,
many of which are only a
few feet above the falls.
During the rains, the water
level often rises up to the
royalty free stock photos/shutterstock
walkways, giving tourists the

illusion of walking on water.

Inspire | venezuela

Angel Falls
Canaima National Park,
Venezuela
Venezuela
Angel Falls
Colombia
brazil
Venezuela’s Angel Falls is

so high that much of the
water plunging from the cliff
evaporates before hitting
the ground, creating a large
cloud of mist. In winter, when
the vapour isn’t as heavy,
the tallest waterfall in the
world looks like a thin white
line dividing the rocky face
of Auyán-Tepui Mountain.
A favourite among base
jumpers, the sky-scraping
marvel is three times the
height of the Eiffel Tower.
The waterfall is named after
James Angel, an American
pilot who discovered the
falls in 1933 while searching
the area for gold ore. Angel
was so mesmerised by what
he saw that he returned
to explore the region four
years later. Unfortunately,
his plane crash-landed on
the mountain and his team
had to endure an 11-day
trek to reach civilisation.
(The plane remained atop
the mountain until 1970,
when it was moved to the
Tomás de Heres Airport in
Ciudad Bolívar.)
Visiting Angel Falls is
complicated on account
of its remote location. The
journey involves a flight to
ken fisher/the image bank/geety images
Canaima National Park, a

six-hour boat ride, and an
hour-long trek to the foot
of the falls. Even then,
travellers are at the mercy
of the weather gods for a
clear view. That’s a risk most
visitors are happy to take.

Inspire | iceland

Gullfoss
South Iceland, Iceland
ARCTIC OCEAN
Iceland
Gullfoss
NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN
As the Gullfoss drops into a

narrow canyon, it appears as
if the earth is swallowing a
wide river. Located in South
Iceland on the Hvítá River,
the wedge-shaped Gullfoss
has two levels. The falls first
drop 11 metres, and then
another 21 metres into a
70-metre-deep canyon. Fed
by the Langjökull glacier in
the north, the waters of the
Gullfoss often appear golden
due to glacial sediments.
In fact, the name Gullfoss,
which means Golden Falls in
Icelandic, is a reference to
this phenomenon. As with
many popular places, this
too is shrouded in myth. In a
popular Icelandic love story,
a shepherd risked his life by
crossing the falls to win his
lover’s hand in marriage.
A more contemporary
legend is that of Sigríður
Tómasdóttir, a farmer’s
daughter who crusaded
against the building of a
hydroelectric power plant
on the falls in the early
20th century. In protest,
she walked barefoot to
the capital Reykjavík and
even threatened to throw
herself into the falls if the
project was commissioned.
It was eventually stalled for
financial reasons (not her
efforts). Tómasdóttir also
helped build the first trail
photononstop rm/indiapicture
that led to the waterfall,

and a monument to mark
her contribution was erected
nearby in 1978.

Inspire | u.s.a.
Bridal Veil Falls

Colorado, U.S. A.
Canada
U.S.A.
Bridal Veil Falls
mexico
The easy hike to the top of

the 365-foot-high Bridal Veil
Falls in Telluride, Colorado
is one of the region’s most
popular walks. The San
Miguel River plummets
down a box canyon creating
Colorado’s tallest free-
falling waterfall and some
mesmerising views. A power
plant located at the top was
built in 1907 and still fulfils
a quarter of the town’s
energy needs.
Beyond the top, the trail
continues into the Bridal
Veil Basin with longer hikes
to mountain meadows
and streams. It is lined
with numerous small,
seasonal waterfalls and
fields of wildflowers.
Bridal Veil is a bigger draw
during winter, when it is
completely frozen, unusual
for a waterfall. The region
is popular among ice
climbers who come here
for the many frozen
waterfalls in the San Juan
Mountains near Telluride.
Ouray, an hour’s drive from
Telluride, has the world’s
first ice-climbing park with
dozens of 80 to 200-foot
falls along a 1.6-km stretch.
helen h. richardson/contributor/getty images

Contest | PHOTOGRAPHY
Pose with your magazine

MAKE NAT GEO TRAVELLER INDIA A PART OF YOUR JOURNEY APR
IL 2
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ISS
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AY
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R
CHINA
THE SECR
KINGDOM ET
SHANGR OF
GREA
I-LA
WALKTS
INDIA
FAMILY
VACATION
THE OUT S IN
DOORS
Trekking
through
+ Disc Ladakh, Kilim
overing
our citie anjaro & Eng
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This
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be
YOU
W
e want to travel with you, literally. Make us your travel companions. On your next trip,
carry a copy of National Geographic Traveller India along. When you find that perfect
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Contest | STORYTELLING
Announcing
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GEOGRAPHIC
TRAVELLER INDIA’S
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TRAVEL QUIZ T E S T Y O U R T R AV E L I Q
1 2
SEASHELLS ARE CONSIDERED LEGAL
CURRENCY IN SOME PARTS OF WHICH OCEANIA
COUNTRY?
3
IN WHICH BOND FILM DID
THAILAND’S KO KHAO PHING KAN
NAME THE STEW CONSISTING OF BEANS,
ISLAND SERVE AS THE VILLAIN’S BEEF, AND PORK THAT IS CONSIDERED THE
HIDEOUT? NATIONAL DISH OF BRAZIL.
WHAT CITY IS KNOWN FOR ITS

FINLAND HAS 53 OF THESE FOR AT WHICH AIRPORT, ALSO THE WORLD'S
LIBRARY (SEASHELLS), SEAN GALLUP/STAFF/GETTY IMAGES (SINGER), JOHN COLETTI/THE IMAGE BANK/GETTY IMAGES (MOUNTAIN), AGNUS OBOM/
LONELY PLANET IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES (TAXI), PETER UNGER/LONELY PLANET IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES (TRIBAL), STEFAN CIOATA/MOMENT OPEN/
GREEN AND WHITE VOLKSWAGEN
4
HIGHEST NATIONAL CAPITAL, DO ARRIVING
TROPICALPIX/E+/GETTY IMAGES (ISLAND), SAMBAPHOTO/CASIO VASCONCELLOS/GETTY IMAGES (INGREDIENTS), MARK DOZIER/CORBIS/IMAGE

EVERY 100,000 PEOPLE PASSENGERS EXPERIENCE A DRASTIC DROP
IN CABIN PRESSURE WHEN THE DOORS OF BEETLE TAXIS?
THEIR AIRCRAFT ARE OPENED?
6
5
WHICH COUNTRY HAS THE HIGHEST NUMBER OF
7 GETTY IMAGES (MONUMENT), LSOUBRETTE/E+/GETTY IMAGES (INSTRUMENT)

UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE SITES?
8
A COMING-OF-AGE
RITUAL OF THE
INDIGENOUS PEOPLE
OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC
ISLAND OF VANUATU
9
WAS THE INSPIRATION NAME THE MUSICIAN WHO
FOR WHICH EXTREME INVENTED THE SAXOPHONE IN
SPORT? BELGIUM IN 1840.
8. ITALY 9. ADOLPHE SAX

ANSWERS 1. THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN 2. FEIJOADA 3. PAPUA NEW GUINEA 4. HEAVY METAL BANDS 5. LA PAZ, BOLIVIA 6. MEXICO CITY 7. BUNGEE JUMPING

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2nd anniversary

YOU HAVE WON your dream vacation!

SEVEN LUCKY WINNERS have won exciting five-star holidays at luxurious

7 lucky winners struck the jackpot !

82 94 106 114 122

MY GRANNY, HIDDEN DEPTHS AT HOME ABROAD RELIVING DIVING BACK IN

10 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

ITC Hotels plays gracious host to you and your family.

For reservations, call 1-800-102-2333, visit or contact your travel agent.

18 Editor’s Note  20 Letters  165 Big Shot

Voices 38 Geotourism 56 Book Extract Get Going

12 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | july 2014

would have made the moment when her

14 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

NATI ONA L GEOGRAPHIC T RAV E LE R U.S. N AT ION AL G EOG RAP H IC SOCIE T Y

Into the Wild, Child in Tow

18 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

I’ve been to Wales and I

Neha Sumitran beautifully

After reading Karanjeet Kaur’s

M y visit to Lord’s Cricket Ground in London was

20 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

can even respond to the caller with a text so they

22 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

proper and they could soon have papers, IDs,

24 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

ANAËL SEGHEZZI (AMRUTA PATIL)

26 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

bohemian life “Yes?” Ilham had prompted as I took the last

28 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JULY 2014

Jason Dewey/Photodisc /Getty Images (hot springs), Marc Dozier/Corbis/Imagelibrary (buddha),

Phnom Penh Crossroads

30 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

32 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

Food for Thought

Shin-Yokohama Raumen Museum

kenichiro seki/xinhua press/corbis/image library (noodle-making), hilke maunder/alamy/indiapicture (bags)

34 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

The Museum of Burnt Food

Dutch Cheese Museum

de agostini/getty images (charcoal exhibit), glow images/getty images (cheese porters),

endemic bean varieties, even ride a roller coaster (hold

36 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

Into the Anhumas

38 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

Party Favourite The fix

40 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

Tokyo’s Hot Noodle Dish

42 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

Mergers and Acquisitions

to absorb the expanse of the

The Other Side of Italy

Hikers traverse the Via

via ferrata (iron path), to move a World War I

46 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

Given the countless tales of

visitors between Ganesh Pol

48 national Geographic Traveller INDIA | julY 2014

All Jazzed Up in West Africa

Rocking the 21-stringed kora at