Once I get settled into this blog I'm sure it'll set its own rhythm. It won't be all chronological or anything like that. But yesterday I got home from 3 weeks in Morocco and for now that's what I want to write about. I took some notes while I was there and after a while maybe some reflections'll come to me too. But today I want to write about Fes, long one of my favorite Moroccan cities (although the first time I visited, July, 1969, I was too intestinally-afflicted to pay it much attention; and food was the last thing I was thinking about at the time). But I've been back many times and I was looking forward to it when I arrived from Tangier in late December (2005).

You can ask anyone in Morocco. Either they'll admit right off the bat that Fes has the best eats in the country or they'll make a tepid claim for their own city, asserting it and Fes are the title holders. But-- despite the fact that Hassan II hired a Meknesi chef for his kids' weddings-- everyone knows the best food in Morocco, a country with a highly sophisticated and unique cuisine, is made in Fes. Problem is, it's not easily available to visitors.

First a disclaimer: individual Fassi can be as nice and as helpful and as generous and as kind as people anywhere-- or as selfish, predatory and rotten. But it seems that Fes as a corporate body, particularly as a part of the Moroccan tourist industry, views (Western) visitors as fat pigeons brought to them for plucking. In the capital of Moroccan cuisine there is virtually no place to get a decent meal! The hotels and virtually all the restaurants serve blanded out versions of Moroccan classics for astronomical prices in absurd, gawdy atmospheres that even include the distinctly non-Moroccan (let alone Fassi) tradition of belly dancers. It's all about huge portions and they don't know from ala carte-- only ridiculously immense feasts (which are also ridiculously overpriced).

Like in any country, the best cooking is always in homes and because I've eaten in Moroccan homes for years, I know the difference between what is quality and what is swill. Heaping mounds of robotically-prepared mediocre food don't impress me even if it's served in a stunning atmosphere.

I stayed at the best address in Fes, the Palais Jamai, a place I've stayed for decades, although this was the first visit since it was acquired by multinational Sofitel in 1999. A glorious era that began in 1930 has definitely come to an end. The hotel was never really inexpensive but Sofitel has not only made it blander and more acceptable to a lower common denominator (i.e.- people who like Disneyworld), they have also made it outrageously more expensive. I mean, although it is quite lovely, built into the walls of Fes-el-Bali (the old city medina), when you get right down to it, it is, afterall, just a nice old hotel afloat in a sea of donkey shit. Literally. (One of the principal charms of Fes-- less charitable people might say the only charm-- is that it is a mysterious warren on dark, narrow cobblestone alleyways, with steps everywhere. It is the world's most complete functioning medieval city. No motor vehicles in medieval cities; only donkeys. And mules. And they don't wear diapers. After a while it only bothers you when it's raining.) Anyway, the hotel is charging London and Paris prices-- in a sea of donkey shit.

For those prices you should at least expect top notch eats, right? Breakfast's included and the key word is bland. If a Moroccan wife served her husband's guests harira like they had at breakfast at the Palais Jamai, she would be beaten before she was divorced.

A good price for GREAT harira (the national soup, the pride of every kitchen in the country) in a middle class Moroccan restaurant in Tangier is 5 dirhams. At the Jema el Fna in Marrakech, at one of the stalls, a heaping bowl of A-1 harira costs 2.5 dirham (like 30 U.S. cents). In tourist land-- not just in Fes, but in any Moroccan city catering to tourists-- the harira is of distinctly inferior quality and costs as much as 12 times that! A friend of mine from Meknes warned me-- as have other Moroccans outside of the tourist trade-- that if they think you're not Moroccan, the only limit to what they'll charge is what they think they can get away with. (Sounds something like Bush-Enron economics!)

According to the guide books, the "best" restaurant in Fes is the Al Fassia in our hotel. It is a very flashy atmosphere and the food is good. But there is no ala carte menu, just the absurd dinner made for a glutton (for around $50/person, an immense sum in this country). When I explained to Jamal, the concierge, that we wanted real Fassi food, not a touristic feeding station farce, he recommended L'Arabesque, a few steps away from the hotel. (Good concierges try to listen to what their client is saying and come up with a solution. In Morocco, concierges are not working for you; they're working for whomever is paying them to send rich foreigners their way.) L'Arabesque is the same kind of overdone nonsense as the Al Fassia-- and even more expensive! I'd wager no Moroccan has ever eaten there. And down the street-- and owned by the same outfit-- is the less grandiose joint along similar lines charging around $15/person, the Dar Jamaii. Dinner was somewhat better than canned dog food.

None of the tour books' highly recommended grand restaurants are open for dinner-- only lunch. We tried the Palais M'Nebhi, just me and Roland and a large troupe of picture-snapping Japanese. It is a beautiful setting-- all Moorish tiles and superbly carved ceilings and all-- but the food was remarkably mediocre-- and predictably overpriced. We were ready to give up on finding a good meal in the city with the best food in the country!

And along came Baba. Baba is a bizarre name for an Arab but this guy was born in Fes-- a former businessman whose stress-related heart problems led him away from business and towards calligraphy. Roland hired him to write the names of each of his 20 third graders in classic Arabic on exotic-looking cardstock. He recommended a restaurant called Riad Dar Tafilalet. We walked over around 6, told them exactly what we wanted and they told us to come back at 9. I asked them to make me a tagine of the tiny black artichokes that were in season (Tagine B'Lquoq beldi) that my friend from Meknes had told me about. Roland asked for a lamb and prunes tagine. I got an exceptionally good vegetarian tagine-- no artichokes-- and Roland got some first rate lamb with artichokes; no prunes. There were no other clients but the staff was friendly and the atmosphere was fine and we ate the rest of our dinners at this place.

We also had a lunch with Baba and his family (in the house he was born in). Predictably it was better than anything we could get in a restaurant. Tons of food, though, and his sister-in-law and another guest kept urging me to eat more and more. No belching though.

I'll talk more about Fes and also more about Moroccan food-- in Tangier, Casablanca, Essaouira and Marrakech-- in a day or two. Meanwhile, here's a great link for all the facts about Morocco.

I've always loved Indian food and I've spent enough months in India since 1969 to not need a getting-used-to-it period when I get here. Now, I know it sounds a little trite, but you know what they say about how the best food in any country is what people prepare in their homes? Well, it's even more true in India than anywhere else I've ever been. But that isn't only because the home cooking is so good-- which it is-- but because the restaurant culture is so, surprisingly, stunted and undeveloped.

A few nights ago I went to see an operatic presentation sponsored by the Italian embassy at Delhi's 16th century Purana Qila (Old Fort) with my friend Daleep, his mom and cousin. By the time we got back to their house, around 9pm, we were all starving but no one much fancied a restaurant. As we walked up the stairs, Daleep's cousin mentioned that he had a hankering for brains; I mentioned that I'm a vegetarian. By 10 we were eating a sumputous 7 course feast-- including brain curry and lots of vegetable preparations. [I passed on the brain curry of course, but as always in India there was plenty for non-brain eaters to feast on.] Of course, it helps to have lots of good help. I only wish, though, that Delhi restaurants were nearly as good.

The problem-- and a silver lining-- is well-illustrated by 2 very different Connaught Place eateries within a minute of two from each other, Veda and Vega. Ask any concierge at a top hotel where to go eat and they will invariably mention Bukhara (more on that later) and Veda. Most of the top restaurants, like Bukhara, are in hotels. Veda isn't. It's a trendy, transnational Indian fusion restaurant catering to the call center crowd and to tourists daring enough to eat outside the hotel scene-- but only so far outside. The food isn't bad; it just isn't exceptional, although the prices are. Basically the food is kind of Indian and kind of arty/trendy... but not really Indian, just arty/trendy.

Down Connaught Circle a block or so is Vega, a vegetarian restaurant no one will ever call in-crowd. Vega is just behind the lobby of a small, modest hotel, the Alka. It's the next best thing to home cooking I've found in Delhi. And they just keep bringing heaps of delicious food until you absolutely insist that they stop. I ordered a thali and it included any and every kind of bread as well as every Indian veggie dish you ever heard of although just the normal, traditional ones, all cooked without onions and garlic. And the bill came to about a tenth of what the fancy places-- like Veda up the street-- cost.

Park Balluchi advertises that it has been voted the #1 best restaurant in India year after year. They're mixing up "best" either with "popular" or "richest food." The setting, in Hauz Khas' Deer Park, is lovely, the service is fine and the plates are gargantuan. The mewa paneer tukra (grilled balls of soft "cheese" stuffed with nuts, raisins, mushrooms and cream) was opulent and over-the-top. I managed to eat almost half an order.

Bukhara, in the Sheraton, makes the Park Balluchi seem like a soup kitchen by comparison. If being around trendy people turns you off, skip this place but it really is "the best" restaurant in town, at least from the international, cosmopolitan perspective. They started with 17 items on the menu when they first opened and they've never changed anything. Daleep's cousin works in mangement at the hotel and he told me that the ratio between lentils and butter in their famous dal makhrani (black lentils simmered for 12 hours in tomatoes, ginger and garlic) is one to one! It's impossible to get in without a reservation.

The Imperial Hotel-- the best in town unless you don't like traditional places-- has a whole slew of top restaurants, from a sumptuous All-India epicurian festival, Daniell's Tavern, to the hipsterish Spice Route, a pan-Asian (mostly Thai-oriented) extravagenza in one of the most gorgeous rooms in the city. They've also got the best Italian restaurant in Delhi, San Gimignano. Three other hotel restaurants of note are Masala Art at the Taj Palace, Dum Pukht at the Sheraton, both over-the-top, and the more reasonable Chor Bizarre, a Kashmiri restaurant in the Broadway Hotel.

I tried a couple of South Indian places I liked a lot, Swagath, which serves the unique seafood-and-coconut based cuisine of Mangalore (in Defense Colony Market) and Sarvana Bhawan, part of a very reasonably-priced, respectable chain. My advice is to stick to the free-standing places that non-trendy, middle class Indians eat in and to avoid the over-the-top (mostly hotel-based) joints that will be as bad for your health as they are for your wallet.

I've always wanted to take a trip like this one. CanoeKayak.com is reporting that Keirron Tastagh and paddling partner Jeff Norville will attempt to set a record by circumnavigating Vancouver in just 14 days.

The two will travel in a tandem kayak for the duration of the 700 mile journey. The previous record is 28 days, held by Leon Sommé, who completed the trip solo. Keirron and Jeff will meet and train together for the first time, just prior to embarking on their expedition. They hope to work out a good paddling rhythm before hand, and get to know one another, then head to Canada, get their passports stamped, and set off. If all goes according to plan, they'll get underway around mid-May.

The two will be paddling for a cause as well. They're traveling in a pink kayak in support of Breast Cancer Awareness and a mutual friend who contracted the disease. You can find out more about their cause, and donate by clicking here. Good luck!

Mopti's exquisite La Maison Rouge

Outside of Bamako, Mali's capital city, there aren't really any hotels similar to American and European style hotels. And even in Bamako there aren't any Hiltons, Marriotts, Best Westerns, Hyatts, Sheratons... let alone Four Seasons or Ritz-Carltons. It's not that kind of a place. Outside of Bamako people camp in tents, sleep on a roof or stay in modest lodgings without regular electricity or hot water. An alternative? Paris, Rome, the Bahamas, Las Vegas...

Thanks to a fellow blogger, Sophie, a Swedish woman who runs a hotel in Djenne and blogs about the experience, I got turned on to an informal network of delightful boutique-like hotels throughout Mali. After I booked a room at Sophie's Djenne Djenno, she helped me, through a series of e-mails, plan out where to stay all over the country. All of the hotels are quite small, utterly unique, and very much geared towards serving the needs of foreign travelers. In Djenne, one of the most memorable places we visited in Mali, the Djenne Djenno, a 10 minute walk from the world's biggest and most famous mud mosque in the center of town, has a dozen rooms. We paid around $40 for what would be the equivalent of a junior suite. The hotel is beautifully decorated, beautifully run and impeccably kept up, from the beautiful gardens and wonderful common spaces to the clean, comfortable rooms (with, thankfully, mosquito nets). The restaurant is really good as well. There's no giftshop selling t-shirts or ashtrays.

Our next stop was Mopti, Mali's second biggest city (and biggest port, albeit a river port). The Kanaga, with 80 rooms, is bigger than any of the hotels we stayed at while we traveled around Mali, and is considered the "best" hotel in town. It has a swimming pool and a good location near the river (the heart of town) but otherwise... not nearly as good as La Maison Rouge, one of the most beautiful hotels I've ever seen. The hotel, which opened about a year and a half ago-- and isn't quite finished-- is the dream of visionary French architect Amédé Mulin, who has been building it for over 4 years. Because of the luxuriant public spaces the hotel looks pretty large, although there are only 12 rooms. The rooms are beautifully appointed (although mosquito nets are very much needed) in earthy Malian design. Our double cost us around $80.

After Mopti we headed out for Dogon country and we based ourselves first in Bandiagara and then in Sangha. Neither actually has what I'd call a boutique hotel and in each case, Hotel Kambary (aka, Chevel-Blanc) in Bandiagara and Campement Sangha, we found pretty basic accommodations (with not many hours of electricity per day in Sangha). Actually the Chevel-Blanc, a series of self-contained geodesic domes, is pretty good, although there are no mosquito nets and the owner, an eccentric Swiss man named Jean Bastian, is a bit too uptight to be running a service business. Campement Sangha may be the best available to that charming and very remote town-- and it is well-run-- but... well, thank God there were mosquito nets. We paid around $70 for a double.

Timbuktu's nicest hotel is another boutique situation, La Maison, a small, well-run, beautiful little hotel in the middle of town. The clean, simple very agreeable rooms are built around a lovely courtyard with a candlelit pool. The rooftop restaurant is a pleasant common space. A double was around $80.

These hotels all have decent restaurants with fair prices and safe food and water. You tend not to spend much time in your room and the common spaces are conducive to friendly interaction with other travelers.

Photo © A.K. Kimoto-All Rights Reserved
The New York Times' LENS blog features a poignant photo essay on opium addiction in Afghanistan by the late A.K. Kimoto. The photo essay is in black & white; dark and brooding as befits such a subject matter. See it...I highly recommend it, along with its accompanying article.

Kimoto was a 32-year-old Japanese photographer based in Bangkok, who died in March while traveling to Australia.

He spent years photographing families in the remote northeastern mountains of Afghanistan, controlled by the Taliban. He roamed remote settlements in Badakhshan, Afghanistan, to find out why so many of the inhabitants (even the young) had become addicted to opium. As Emily Anne Epstein explains in the piece: "The poverty in this region is so harsh that parents blow opium smoke into their children’s noses to soothe the pangs of hunger."

A.K. Kimoto wrote:

“I offer to transport the mother and child to a clinic. One of the elders cuts me off before I can finish my thought. He smiles gently as he tells me that the child would never survive such a journey in the cold rain, and anyway, this way of life and death have been repeated for centuries in these mountains.”

Coincidentally, the New York Times reported yesterday that the United States has discovered nearly "$1 trillion" in untapped mineral deposits in Afghanistan, which translates into approximately $35,000 for every inhabitant of the country. Naturally, massive investments will be required to mine these deposits, but in any event there's little chance that the poor of Badakhshan will see their lives improve from this eventual wealth. Cronyism, and venal corruption are endemic to the region...and only those with the power and connections will reap the benefits.

Here's a cool article that I found over at CanoeKayak.com about exploring the caves of the Channel Islands via Kayak. The Channel Islands are located off the coast of California, and have become quite an interesting place to visit as their remoteness in regards to the mainland, has left them mostly untouched, giving rise to interesting plant an animal life and a glimpse into what the area once looked like.

The article notes that there are over 255 documented sea caves on Anacapa and Santa Cruz Islands, two of the five islands that make up the Natational Park. It's also noted that there are many more still waiting to be found. I can't think of a better way to explore them then by kayak, and it looks like it would be an amazing paddle to be sure.

Once again, the pictures help tell the tale, as there are only a few shots, but they are very cool indeed. The description of the islands themselves are amazing as well. Anyone want to organize a trip to paddle the area? :)

The adventure in snowboarding and skiing these days is found in the backcountry. That's exactly what compels pro-boarder Jeremy Jones to head to the mountains to find new places to ply his craft. In the video below, Jeremy talks about what drives him to visit these remote places and what has enabled him to do so in recent years. But it will be the stunning visuals that will stick with you. Jeremy runs some seriously steep vertical and carves narrow runs in the backcountry. Pretty amazing stuff and a long way from the groomed slopes most of us stick to.

Although the sturdy and intrepid New York traveler I met in the Ushuaia airport last week turned out to be a Republican nutcase, this isn't another story about how Argentina is the one place in the world-- other than Israel-- where you meet right wing Americans on the road. Actually, I really liked this lady and even asked her to do a guest blog (when she started talking about how older women are safe because they are "socially invisible"). She declined my offer because she doesn't have a computer. Anyway, aside from her theories on how "the woman's lib walk" keeps her out of trouble and how Rudy Giuliani was the best thing that ever happened to New Yorkers, she talked a lot about her travels. She's really been everywhere. And she's a member of the Travelers Century Club.

Now I'm a member in good standing of the Mile High Club but I had never heard of the Travelers' Century Club. Unlike the Mile High Club, this is an actual club with meeting and dues and a newsletter, etc. To be a member you have to have been to 100 "countries," although they have a unique and utterly specific way to decide what a country is. (Their definition is very different from the UN's and there are 317 of them.) Hawaii, Alaska, Sicily, Corfu and Hainan count. Koh Samui, Long Island and Tierra del Fuego don't (although both the Chilean and Argentine South Pole stations do count as countries). Anyway, TTC was started in 1954 and if you've visited 75 countries you can be a kind of associate member. It costs $100 to join and yearly dues for Americans are $40 ($70 per couple). If you don't live in the U.S. yearly dues are $50 but there's no discount for couples. The headquarters are in Santa Monica (their phone number is 310-458-3454 and you can e-mail them at tccclub3@gte.net).

There are over 1,500 members and 35 of these have visited 300 or more countries. They sponsor club tours to out-of-the-way places like Northwest Passage, Central Asia (the “Stan” countries), West Africa, the World Heritage sites of North Africa, islands of the Indian Ocean, the Marquesas and Tuamotus, a Cape Horn to Cape Town cruise, the South Atlantic islands, including Bouvet Island, Greenland/Iceland/the North Pole, North Korea, the outer islands of Britain, Barrancas del Cobre, the Sahara, and they have circumnavigated Antarctica.


The most recent countries added to the list of qualifiers are Prince Edward Island, Nakhichevan, Srpska (northern Bosnia), Kosovo, and Trans-Dniester (between Chisinau/Odessa). I'm over the 70 countries mark counting Srpska and Kosovo. If you want to be able to count Tuvalu, you better go soon since it is sinking below the Pacific waves and it's highest point is only 16 feet above sea level. Wait!! I just saw a proviso that fuel stops count as a "visit," which adds South Korea, Alaska and Taiwan to my list. I'm qualified to be an associate member!

This video captures one of my favorite national parks in all of its glory. Yellowstone is definitely an amazing place and this timelapse video manages to show off some of the more spectacular settings there, including numerous geothermal features that the park is famous for.

Timelapse: Yellowstone National Park from Roadtrippers on Vimeo.

Serendipity. That's what it was. I originally came to Amoy Street to try to catch an early lunch at Mamacitas, especially since the sign said that they opened as early as 8 AM. But when I arrived at 11 AM, they were still setting up shop. So I went upstairs to see if there were anything interesting up there instead, and I came across this guy (7 Maxwell Road #02-92), who had effectively just started business today. I had no idea what made his soup "modern," but I like kambing soup, and in the end, it was good that Mamacitas was closed or else I never would have found him.

Yes, I liked it, as it was super peppery, making me a fan instantly. He also used quality meat that was tender enough that one actually wanted to eat it, as opposed to those tough off-cuts that normal shops use just to flavor the soup. As for the "modern" part, he filled it with potatoes and pasta rather than providing bread on the side, and he garnished it with candied ikan bilis. The broth was thinner than usual, but not necessarily in a bad way. I gobbled it up quickly, and I'll easily go back.

The landscape of the Cúl Irra Peninsula west of Sligo Town is one of the best places in Ireland to encounter wonderful prehistoric megalithic tombs, and the Carrowmore Passage Tomb Cemetery is an integral part of this incredible series of monuments. Here at Carrowmore, clustering in the shadow of Knocknarea, you can find the densest concentration of Neolithic tombs in Ireland. Of the sixty or so monuments that were thought to have originally been on the site, only 31 are still visible today and of these the largest is Listoghil, the large cairn that possibly forms a focal point of the complex. Material carbon dated from Listoghil produced dates of 3640–3380 BC.

A number of smaller passage tombs and boulder burials surround Listoghil, and when you are at the site it is hard not to appreciate the landscape that appears to loom around you. Most of the tombs at Carrowmore were investigated in the 19th Century, and produced artefacts like prehistoric pottery and bone or antler pins as well as the cremated remains of those interred within the tombs. These tombs are some of the earliest passage tombs in Ireland, predating the great tombs of the Boyne Valley like Newgrange, Knowth and Dowth. They were constructed during the Neolithic period, by Ireland’s first farmers, who supplemented their attempts at agriculture with hunting and foraging, indeed many of the tombs had seashells left as offerings, indicating the importance that the sea held as a resource for the community.  

The remains of the people who built these tombs were usually cremated, and often the remains of a number of individuals were collectively buried together, with evidence that some of the individuals remains were stored elsewhere before being brought to be interred together with others in one large ceremony. The building of these complex tombs that required considerable numbers of people working together, and the subsequent burial in groups seems to hint that maybe there was a real collective identity in Neolithic Ireland. This appears to change to a more individual focused culture in the later Neolithic and Early Bronze Age periods, when individuals were buried alone in stone lined pits known as ‘cist burials’, or in single cremations, occasionally inside a pottery urn.

Carrowmore is very well signposted, head South West of Sligo Town. There is a small exhibition centre run by the Office of Public Works, and guided tours of the monuments are available. Entry costs €3 for an adult, €2 for anyone over 60, and students/children costs €1. See here for details.

I hope you enjoy this blog, we're trying to cover as many sites as we can across Ireland. If anyone has any suggestions about sites you'd like us to cover please do leave us a comment. If you enjoy information and images of Irish heritage sites then do follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Google+ If you'd like to support us then please consider downloading an audioguide to one of Ireland's wonderful heritage sites. They are packed with original music and sound effects and are a great way of experiencing the story of Ireland. They only cost €1.99 and are fun whether you are at the site, or listening from the comfort of your own home. Our latest guide is to Viking and Medieval Dublin, visit us at www.abartaaudioguides.com for free previews and to download your free audioguide to the Rock of Dunamase 

All photographs © Neil Jackman / abartaaudioguides.com

The New Yorker magazine's online edition is featuring a video in which George Steinmetz discusses his career and techniques with Lauren Collins, who had traveled with him to Algeria.

George Steinmetz is a photographer known for his explorations of remote deserts, obscure cultures, and mysteries of science and technology. He is regular contributor to National Geographic and GEO Magazines, and explored subjects ranging from the remotest stretches of Arabia’s Empty Quarter to the unknown tree people of Irian Jaya. He has won numerous awards for photography during his 25-year career,including two first prizes in science and technology from World Press Photo. He has also won awards and citations from Pictures of the Year, Overseas Press Club and Life Magazine's Alfred Eisenstadt Awards.

Once you're done with watching the interview in the video above, take a look at Steinmetz's website. You'll be rewarded with large gorgeous photographs of the remote areas he explored, both from the air and on land.

I think his aerial photographs are more accessible and intimate than those by Yann Arthus-Bertrand, because he photographs from a motorized paraglider at heights of 100-500 feet above ground, rather than a small airplane.

On May 24, 2010 I ordered the Panasonic GF1 with a 20mm f/1.7 lens from Amazon for $812 (excluding NY tax), which listed it as being in stock. I chose the Super Saver shipping discount so I was charged nothing for shipping.

Not a bad deal cost-wise since it saves me a little money, except for this: on receiving my order, Amazon emailed me its confirmation that the shipping date was estimated June 1, or a full 8 days after its being ordered.

Why? Does it take 8 days for an Amazon employee to locate the camera? Is it hiding behind stocked books? Is there a game of hide & seek going on? Would paying expedited shipping costs make the employee look any faster? Perhaps run instead of walk?

It's in stock and it's shipped from Amazon itself, so it's not from another Amazon affiliate or whatever they're called these days. And why not alert me to that "estimated shipping date" when I clicked on the Super Saver shipping discount?

Assuming that it will be shipped on June 1, it may be delivered a full two weeks from my order...a whole two weeks! I would understand if the camera wasn't immediately in stock, but it is...so what's going on, Amazon?

Ah, well...I hope I can test it in the streets of Istanbul in less than 3 weeks!

Normally my wonderfully resourceful and infinitely patient travel agent, Jeannine, books most of my hotels. I still get incredible corporate rates based on my old corporate president days-- and upgrades and extras... lovely; and I'm thankful to the universe. On my most recent trip-- to DC and Chicago-- she worked her magic in Chicago (more of that in a moment) and I decided to let the organization which had asked me to come to Washington handle the hotel details there. That's because Washington's third-rate, overpriced hotels are always booked up in awkward ways. If you'll be there Monday thru Friday, everything is cool except one detail-- like Tuesday isn't available. So, knowing the organization had a "deal" with a conveniently-located hotel that wouldn't cost me an arm and a leg, like the dependable but expensive Ritz Carlton, I decided to let them sort it all out. Mistake.

I arrived the day before the meeting and, the St. Gregory, a somewhat renovated, self-described "luxury hotel" didn't have a room. They did ask me for "picture ID," making me wonder if they've been having security problems. Someone behind the desk spoke passable English and we finally figured out that my reservation started tomorrow. And, of course, they were booked solid. In fact, they told me, everyone was booked solid. I didn't relish walking around M Street with my two bags-- nor did I relish spending an hour trying to decipher the barely comprehensible English of the person pessimistically offering to help me find somewhere else to stay. I looked around at this gussied up dump (at $314.88/night) and wondered if I could charm my way into the Ritz. What's another $200 a night? It didn't matter; they were booked. The Four Seasons was booked. Literally all those hotels on M were booked, like The Fairmont and the Park Hyatt.

Then I decided-- my bags starting to feel heavier than I remembered-- to climb down off my high horse and go across the street to the Westin Grand. Sure, it's like a somewhat trumped up motel, but I was thinking I could save some money. I was correct about the motel quality of the service but not about saving any money. They didn't care that I'm a Starwood VIP cardholder or that my corporation has a great discount. I hadn't made any reservations in advance and they were very aware Washington was solidly booked and if I wanted the room, it was $500 a night, internet access extra. In fact, everything is extra. I admit, the room was nice. It was the only nice thing about the place and I was happy to check into the hideous, security conscious St Gregory early the next morning.

They too charge for internet access, as sporadic and undependable as it turned out to be. The first time I ever went to Europe-- 1969-- I arrived in Luxembourg at night and my girlfriend and I were considerably less picky than I've since become. It was already night and we just plopped down in the first place we found. In the morning we discovered it was a whore house. Years later I visited an old friend who was residing in the same type of establishment in Bangkok. There's something about the St. Gregory-- maybe the way you have to insert your key to make the elevator run-- that reminds me of those places.

I don't know the restaurant scene in DC. Sometimes people take me out. Once I even got invited to a state banquet at the house Bush is currently occupying. Normally I just eat at either of the two Noras, the Asia Nora on M Street or the regular place at Florida and R. They're both as conscious about health and serving organic food as they are about serving great-tasting food. I had all my dinners in one or the other this time and all the dinners were delicious and reasonably priced.

I have to admit, though, that I was happy to be flying to Chicago. I always forget how much I love that city-- 'til I get there. It's even relatively nice flying there from DC since you can go from that conveniently located National Airport, a $20 cab ride away. National claims to have free WiFi but they don't, at least not in the United terminal. I made due, happily, with my book.


And when I got to Chicago, Jeannine's efforts kicked in. I stayed at the Park Hyatt at 800 North Michigan Avenue. Before I explain why this is a world class luxury hotel, let me also say that it cost me considerably less than either of the two dives I stayed in in DC. The staff is impeccably trained and whether it was real or an act, they were all always friendly, cheerful and helpful. The place has the feel of a boutique hotel and it wasn't until a day or two after I got there when I was walking to it that it dawned on me that it is actually a huge hotel. The rooms are unbeatable; everything beautiful, comfortable, user-friendly, tasteful. Even f I was paying the outlandish prices at the Grand Westin or the St. Gregory I would have at least felt I was getting my money's worth.

First night I ate at the Green Zebra on West Chicago Avenue, just down the road from my hotel. It's an upscale mostly vegetarian restaurant dedicated to perfect service and serving fresh, seasonal, flavorful food. It isn't cheap and the plates are small but it was delicious, engaging and interesting and I'd eat there again. The following night, however, the restaurant was chosen based on size. We needed a place that could accommodate 20 or so bloggers. I don't remember the name; no need.


My favorite spot in Chicago: the Art Institute. Yep Chicago has one of the world's greatest art museums, certainly better than anything on the West Coast and right up there with the Met and MoMA in NYC, the Tate, the Louvre, El Prado...

Nighthawks the Hooper I was eager to see again was on tour but I got to marvel at some of the amazing works by Gustave Caillebotte, Georgia O’Keeffe, Francis Bacon, Magritte, Seurat and hours worth of paintings before I had to catch my plane back to L.A. Before leaving I booked a week at the same hotel in August.

A few days ago I was marvelling at the squalor and backwardness of the road from Iguazu/Ciudad del Este to Asunción. It reminded me of India-- a jumble of shanties up against an ill-maintained highway with sorry looking people and their animals wandering around randomly and with garbage and filth everywhere. That was Ruta 2. There's another way into Paraguay: Ruta 1, from Posadas, Argentina, another port of the mighty Paraná River. I took a bus from Asunción to Encarnacion, the Paraguayan city across from Posadas. Once the bus had left behind the slums that ring Asunción-- I was just reading that even in the U.S. there are more people living in poverty in the suburbs than in the cities and the slums of Paris and most European cities are well away from the centers and this seems to be the case in this part of Latin America too-- Paraguay took on a decidedly different look. The communities seem well looked-after, even prosperous. The tropical savannah mixed with jungle gave way to rich grasslands and the hodgepodge habitations along Ruta 2 were replaced by well-planned little towns along Ruta 1.


The people looked better. And so did their animals! It smelled better too and I didn't see any garbage strewn along the road in the whole 5 hour trip. It was like night and day. And Encarnacion also has the air of a propserous and decent little port/border town, rather than the threatening bandit refuge Ciudad Del Este appeared to be. (It's also filled with Arabs, more so than any other town in the area, and I hear the FBI has been there in force looking into "terrorist" connections.)

I took a city bus from Encarnacion to Posadas. I paid 2 pesos (.65) and the short trip included a stop at Paraguayan customs on one side of the Paraná bridge and at Argentine customs on the other side. It was smooth and relaxed and no one asked for an exit fee, although I guess that's just at the airports. Nor did the Argentines make me fill out all the pesky paperwork you have to fill in when you enter by air.

Posadas is the capital of Missiones Province. I think there are a 250-300,000 people in the city. After Paraguay, it feels like I'm back in the 21st Century. It's 100 degrees though. And humid. I'm not a huge fan of this kind of weather but there's something I like even less-- freezing airconditioning which always strikes me as supremely unhealthy. The buses in tropical places are bonechillingly cold and dry-- and filled with sick people sneezing and coughing. No one ever told anyone to cover their mouths. (This especially bothers me at buffets.)

I'm staying in Posadas' only 4-star hotel, Julio Cèsar. It costs $35/night-- no corporate discount-- and the gap between 5 stars and 4 stars is considerably greater than the gap between 4 stars and 3 stars. But the sheets are crisp and clean and there is a ceiling fan (as well as the airconditioning I would never use). It's a decent enough place and, in fact, the swimming pool looks a lot better than the one of the roof of the Sheraton in Asunción (which was so filthy that it was unimaginable that anyone would ever use it). Breakfast buffet is always included in the hotels and the one today was more modest than the ones in the 5 stars, but there was fruit, which is all I eat anyway. I was a little put off when some slovenly young woman with her 7 or 8 year old on her hip walked up to the buffet, the child coughing deeply and the woman sneezing heartily right into the basket of bread.

Last night I made a deal with Roberto, a Swiss-born Argentine, to get me to Iberá in a 4 wheel drive and pick me up in a few days and drive me back. Roberto is a personable dude who speaks great colloquial English-- "American films," he told me-- and has a travel agency catering to tourists who want to make the circuit of ancient Jesuit monasteries in this area and who want to get to Iberá (to which there are no paved roads or public transportation). I expect to be away from computer access for a few days but I'll write about Iberá when I get back to Posadas next week.

In case you ever wind up in Posadas, il Diletto is the best restaurant in town. The mixed salad was totally killer and HUGE (and only $3) and I also had some baked river fish (surubí) with potatoes and a whole lot of melted cheese. I'm looking forward to another one of those salads when I get back here next week.

Remember Mike Curiak? He was the guy that was going to peddle the entire length of the Iditarod Trail, all 1100 miles of it, unsupported, with just his bike and a specially designed trailer to carry his gear. He was first interviewed by The Gear Junkie who has tracked him down for a follow-up report.

It seems not all went well for Mike once he got out on the trail. He encountered some nasty temperatures and winds, as you might expect in Winter on the Iditarod Trail. At times the temps dipped belowe -30 degrees F and the winds blew at speeds in excess of 70 mph. The combination of the two crated 80 below windchill factors. (Didn't I already say "Brrrr!" once today?!?) In the end, it was too much for him to endure, and after 200 miles on the trail, he gave up on his quest.

In the follow-up interview, Curiak says that his trailer preformed great, but that he plans to shave some weight off of it this Summer, and adding some features that'll make it more "user friendly". It sounds like Mike isn't done with his adentures yet, so we'll have to stay tuned to see how things unfold.

I wasn't expecting much from this place (1 Vista Exchange Green #02-20, 6694-0660), in part because they appeared to be related to those Itacho folks from HK. Nonetheless, the idea of coming here must have gotten stuck in my head when I noticed them earlier in the day, as I kept thinking about yakitori all afternoon.

It turned out better than I had expected, with them even featuring cuts like bonjiri. Still, the cooking was a bit uneven. And when it comes to quality, nothing so far has beaten Shirokane Tori-Tama for me (or even cheaper alternatives Nanbantei and Aburiyatei). But I had a better impression of this place than I did of Sumire.

Famed climber Lara Kellogg fell to her death in a climbing accident last week on Mt. Wake, in Denali National Park, Alaska. According to this article posted on MountainZone.com, Kellogg was climbing with mountaineer Jed Brown at the time of the accident.

Lara was married to Chad Kellogg, who was climbing in the Sichuan province of China at the time of the accident. Out of respect to her husband and family, her name was not released until Chad could be contacted and told the news. Lara and Chad are well known in climbing circles having worked as guides and having climbed all over the World.

Jed Brown posted his thoughts on Lara and their climb with a bit of an explanation about what events lead up to them being on the mountain and wht happened while they were there. And a Remembering Lara Kellog Blog has been created to allow friends and family to post their memories and thoughts on Lara.

My thoughts and condolences are with Chad and her family at this time.

Saint Elair was said to have founded a small monastic site at Monaincha on a small island surrounded by a lake in the seventh century, but most of the visible remains on the site date to the Augustinians who established a small monastery here dedicated to Saint Mary in the twelfth to fifteenth centuries.
The name Monaincha comes from Mainistir Inse na mBeo meaning The Monastery of the Island of the Living, originally the monastery was on a small island surrounded by water, but agricultural drainage works in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries drained the lake and left the monastery perched conspicuously on top of a mound in a low boggy field.

The beautifully decorated Romanesque doorway

The strange powers of the island were recorded by the twelfth century Norman clergyman and chronicler Gerald of Wales. He discusses the island on which the monastery stands in this excerpt, Monaincha is the smaller island he describes, I’m not sure where the larger island is.

‘There is a lake in the north of Munster which contains two islands, one rather large and the other rather small. The larger has a church venerated from the earliest times. The smaller [Monaincha] has a chapel cared for most devotedly by a few celibates called ‘heaven-worshippers’.
No woman or animal of the female sex could ever enter the larger island without dying immediately. This has been proved many times by instances of dogs and cats and other animals of the female sex. When brought there to make a trial, they immediately died.
A remarkable thing about the birds there is that, while the males settle on bushes everywhere throughout the island, the females fly over and leave their mates there and, as if they were fully conscious of its peculiar power, avoid the island like a plague.
In the smaller island [Monaincha] no one has ever died or could die a natural death. Accordingly it is called the Island of the Living. Nevertheless the inhabitants sometimes suffer mortal sicknesses and endure the agony almost to their last gasp.
When there is no hope left; when they feel that they have not a spark of life left; when as the strength decreases they are eventually so distressed that they prefer to die in death than drag out a life of death, they get themselves finally transported in a boat to the larger island, and, as soon as they touch ground there, they give up the ghost’.

(From The History and Topography of Ireland by Gerald of Wales, translated by John J.O’Meara and published by Penguin Books, 1982)

The high cross at Monaincha is a composite of two different crosses. The base appears to be decorated but it is very weathered and difficult to make out, is said to date to around the 9th century, the long thin shaft with a depiction of Christ at the apex is later, dating to the 12th century.

Some of the wonderful detailed decoration on the chancel arch

The church has a really beautifully decorated Romanesque-style doorway resplendent with designs of chevrons, zigzags and foliage carved into the sandstone. The church itself is quite a simple nave and chancel church, with the chancel arch again in the Romanesque style. However evidence of the later activity on site can be seen in the architecture of some of the windows that appear to be later insertions. A small addition to the church has been tacked on in probably around the fifteenth century, it consists of vaulted chamber that may have been a sacristy and a set of steps leading to an upper chamber little of which survives today. The construction of this addition seems a bit rougher than the well constructed original parts of the church.

The vaulted chamber, perhaps originally a sacristy?

I do recommend a visit to Monaincha, especially as you can team it up with a visit to the heritage town of Roscrea, with its impressive castle, Damer House, friary and round tower. To find Monaincha from Roscrea drive north east along the old Dublin Road till you come to a roundabout, then take the exit for Monaincha, the site is signposted Monaincha Church. Monaincha is along a very narrow bumpy track, unless you are in a 4x4 driving along it even in good weather is a bit of a hair raising experience and there is very little room to turn at the end of the track. I’d recommend leaving the car safely pulled in before the track, and walk the 400m or so down to the site. The site is located in a field full of livestock (pretty lively bullocks when we visited on 1st July 2013) so be sure to wear adequate footwear and please close any gates behind you.

A view from the chancel through to the nave of the church

I really hope you enjoy this blog. Please do check out our map page to see if we’ve covered any sites in your area. If you’d like to keep up with daily posts about Ireland’s amazing heritage sites then you can follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. We’d love to hear from you if you have any suggestions for sites to visit or any feedback about my blog.

I also provide downloadable audioguides to Irish heritage sites through my company Abarta Audioguides. Many of these are available absolutely free to download and are packed with original music and sound effects, they are a fun way of discovering the story of Ireland through its places visit www.abartaaudioguides.com to discover the sites we have covered. Why not try a free one like The Rock of Dunamase, Kells Heritage Town or the M6 A Route Through Time?

All photographs © Neil Jackman / abartaaudioguides.com

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