Today I'm featuring the work of Darren Ornitz, who as a freelance photographer, traveled for 14 months in Africa and Asia including Zimbabwe, Ethiopia, Yemen and Oman.

Quite a number of photographs in Darren's East Africa gallery are of Lalibela, one of Ethiopia's holiest cities, and a center of pilgrimage for much of the country. The population of Lalibela is almost completely Ethiopian Orthodox Christian, and having spent a few days there photographing during the Epiphany celebrations, I can only describe it as "Biblical".

Part of the East Africa portfolio are some photographs of Zanzibar, and more specifically Stone Town. A UNESCO listed old city, Stone Town was David Livingstone's base when preparing for his final expedition in 1866. The above photograph is of Stone Town.

Darren studied at the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse until transferring to Fordham.

Michael Snyder is an old friend of mine from San Francisco-- as well as a talented writer, discerning critic and celebrated raconteur. He's the Around The World Blog go-to person for all things New Orleans. And he just returned from there and wrote up a report anyone interested in visiting post-Katrina New Orleans will want to read.

New Orleans Lives!

Make no mistake.
 
It's more than a bit broken. But New Orleans and its people are unbowed, and I had a tremendous time there this past weekend.
 
Yep, I'm back in San Francisco after my usual early-Carnival sojourn to the Big Easy. It was exhilarating, exhausting and left me feeling a little melancholy. And I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
 
The areas of town that are geared to entertainment -- the French Quarter, the Marigny and the Garden District -- are fine, although you can see evidence of repairs in progress, and some places (such as the Acme Oyster Bar) have yet to reopen due to personnel shortages. The first parades ran (albeit a little scaled-back) with a slew of cuttingly satirical, and brutally-topical floats, and beads and doubloons a-flying; the parties rocked, especially the annual all-night bash at Jamie's warehouse (a wild menagerie of fun-loving, incredibly creative people in beautiful, sexy and/or hilarious costumes); the food was exquisite (i.e. dinners at Irene's, Adolfo's and NOLA; beignets at the Cafe Du Monde; and some libations to delight: Restoration Ale and Carnival Bock from Abita, and the Chocolate City Stout from Crescent City Brewhouse); the Krewe of Barkus doggie parade went off without a hitch on Sunday afternoon as canines and their owners, done up in hilarious fashion to reflect this year's theme "The Wizard of Paws," strolled the Quarter to appreciative crowds; and my friends -- those who stayed or returned, and those I only just met -- were as gracious, warm and welcoming as ever.

I don't want to forget the music and clubbing I did: There was some eloquent small-combo chamber jazz from pianist Ellis Marsalis, the patriarch of the musical Marsalis clan, at Snug Harbor; techno-house dancing at Oz; the Bob French & Friends jam session Monday night at Donna's with the great Kermit Ruffins -- the Satchmo of the modern era -- sitting in on trumpet and vocals, and the brilliant humorist and comic actor Harry Shearer kicking back at the bar; and an ass-whuppin' midnight show by Nashville Pussy (X-rated, trailer-trashy Deep South metal-punk) at the best rock club in the Quarter, One-Eyed Jacks.

A mordant sense of humor was in evidence, no matter where you went. The Krewe of Carrollton dubbed its parade "Blue Roof Blues," in reference to the omnipresent blue tarps that FEMA used to cover houses left open to the elements by the storm; they recycled old floats to fit the "blue" theme. So, to pay tribute to the Blue Man Group, they took a float that was previously used as a tribute to Gandhi, completely spray-painted the bald figure at the front of the vehicle in a rich shade of blue and -- Voila! Hairless spiritual sari-wearing pacifist becomes freaky, post-modern performance artist!

And the novelty T-shirts, at souvenir shops from Bourbon to Decatur, were particularly prickly: a "Girls Gone Wild" shirt with the meteorological symbol that represents a hurricane duplicated under the names "Katrina" and "Rita"; a FEMA shirt that spelled the acronym "Federal Employees Missing Again"; a New Orleans Police Department shirt that said "Not Our Problem, Dude"; New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin, Louisiana Governor Kathleen Blanco and Jefferson Parish President Aaron Broussard depicted as the Three Stooges; and my favorite, which takes the poster art for the recent film "Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory," and replaces star Johnny Depp's face with Ray Nagin's, alters the background to a post-Katrina NOLA skyline, and the title to "Willy Nagin & the Chocolate City -- Semi-Sweet & a Little Bit Nuts." Anger transformed to humor.

This is not to diminish the tragedy. Parts of the city are devastated. For instance, I made it over to the periphery of the Ninth Ward, and even now, it looks like a bomb went off and laid waste to everything. Although it will take years (and a much better series of levees) before those neighborhoods are back to something approaching they're previous condition (or hopefully, something better), there are clean-up crews and builders who are toiling every day with the determination to resurrect and improve upon that which was destroyed.
 
New Orleans will survive, and it's ready to accommodate those who love it, or will love it if they visit. It's a national treasure, and it needs us. I encourage any and all of you to go there and support the most unique, exotic and seductive metropolitan area in North America.

 There are a few more days left until Mardi Gras. And how about Jazz Fest in April? It's coming up, and it's a music-lover's dream. I'm just sayin'...

Photo © Chico Sanchez-All Rights Reserved
Here's another lovely audio slideshow by Chico Sanchez, a freelance photographer based in Mexico City. Chico worked in Venezuela, collaborating with Reuters, European Pressphoto Agency, Agencia EFE, and freelances for various newspapers and magazines.

The title of this audio slideshow is The Angel.

This time, Chico documents the spiritual side of Flamenco, whose mystical, almost religious origins, are almost forgotten by the admirers of this genre of music and dance. Chico is well placed to do so...he's a native Andalucian, a musician and was involved in flamenco himself.

I would have loved to see a flip book effect in Chico's work...various shots of a dancer (or singer for that matter)...and arranged in such a way that playing the slideshow would have animated these almost-identical stills.

The well-known flamenco style of music and dance is emblematic to the culture of Spain, although it is actually native to only one region: Andalusia.

Gypsy, Sephardic, and especially Arabic musical influences are found in flamenco. For me, one of the best flamenco singers is Diego Ramón Jiménez Salazar, known as El Cigala, whose album Lagrima Negas fusing Cuban rhythms and flamenco vocals, made it an international success.

ThePoles.com has posted a new Polar Update with some news on the still ongoing arctic expeditions.

Rosie Stancer continues to make progress in her bid to go solo to the North Pole. She spent much of the day yesterday in white-out conditions, gaining 8 nautical miles in the process. After 13 hours of trekking though, the conditions began to improve and the clouds lifted. Hopefully conditions are much clearer for her today. Her last reported position was at 86 54 00N 56 21 22W, which means she still has some work ahead of her.

Meanwhile, Thomas Ulrich and Børge Ousland continue their epic voyage as well, but have reportedly run into a polar bear already. The pair of arctic explorers were surprised to see a bear so far North, and it has prompted them to set up a fence around their camp at night to keep hungry bears away. They've made steady progress as well, despite their own whiteout conditions, having notched 17km over the weekend.

The Polar First Team has made it into Iqaluit on Baffin Island, where they bumped into Will Steger's Global warming 101 Team who happened to have British Adventurer (and Billionaire) Richard Branson along for the ride. Jennifer Murray reports that the record weather delay in Iqaluit is 42 days, a record they don't really want to break.

Finally, the results for the Polar Race are in and you can check to see how your favorite team did. I don't know about you personally, but I was rooting for "The Blue Tits".

Yesterday's wonderful snowboarding video was so well received that I thought another one was in order. Today we have pro snowboarder Eric Jackson shredding some steep lines in the backcountry in one of those scenes that is great to look at but I wouldn't want to try it myself. I'll leave these antics to the experts while I work on mastering the bunny-hill. If this doesn't get you stoked for winter, I don't know what will.

ERIC JACKSON - FULL PART from Friday on Vimeo.

I started the AroundTheWorldBlog because readers of Down With Tyranny would grumble whenever I'd write about my travel experiences. On the other hand, I always get nasty comments whenever I mention politics on this one. So I was trying to figure out which blog to put this one on. I have to admit I'm not certain where it's going to end up as I sit down to write it. It's almost a truism to say that you meet interesting and worthwhile people when you travel, people with diverse opinions and points of view. Yesterday I actually met two people, unconnected to each other in any way whatsoever, who both admire George Bush. Although I once made friends with a Vietnamese kid in Ho Chi Minh City who was too polite to admit he detested Bush without a good deal of prodding, these two are the first I ever met overseas who really and truly thought Bush is a good president.

The first one, an Australian marine engineer (he works on a boat), was so appallingly stupid that he was unable to figure out how to get into Brazil. I met him at the Buenos Aires airport, both of our planes having been delayed for hours and each of us passing the time in the airport locutorio. I don't remember his name; it might have been Pete. He told me that he had flown to Sao Paulo from Madrid, part of those long, zig-zaggy trips round the world Ozzie's are always in the middle of. Because Australia has as big an oafish and pig-headed national leader in John Howard as we have in the U.S., Australians are the other nationality who have to jump through hoops to get into Brazil. Pete wound up in a detention center and was nearly thrown back onto a plane for Madrid. Someone took pity on him and sent him off to Buenos Aires. His plane back to Cairns leaves from Sao Paulo. I explained how he could get a Brazilian visa in Buenos Aires but he had already decided to try to sneak across the border in Iguazu, something which many people do and which usually works. But not always.

Anyway, I just happened to mention that the Brazilians don't allow Americans and Australians in easily, the way they let Europeans and Argentines in, because our two national leaders have made it so hard for Brazilian tourists to come to our countries. I used an adjective or two to describe Bush and Howard. Oy! Did that set off a firestorm! Pete is like a posterboy for racism and within a second he was on automatic, spewing every bit of stereotypical nonsense you ever heard about "spear chucking cannibals with bones in their noses" (exact words) flooding into Australia and changing the place. Imagine that! He worships Howard for his strength-- and because Labor would give everything away to the spear chucking cannibals (including advance fighter jets). I was finally able to calm him down and get him to talk about man-eating seawater crocodiles, something Australians like talking about even more than John Howard, although he eventually got into a rant about how the spear chucking cannibals and Chinese flood into northern Australia by boat and are all eaten by the seawater crocodiles.


The manager of the hotel I'm staying at in Ushuaia, Las Hayas, is far more genteel and sophisticated. I couldn't imagine Alec ever getting thrown into a detention cell and deported somewhere. While I was writing about the seawater crocs eating Chinese immigrants he introduced me to Prue Leith, founder of Leith's, one of my favorite London eateries. She was just checking out of Las Hayas to take a Russian icebreaker to Antarctica.

Alec is a veritable fount of conventional wisdom. This morning he told me how Ushuaia experiences all four seasons each day (although it's nearly 5PM and today we only had what I think of as winter, cold, rainy grey winter). When it comes to politics, though, he's like one of those founts of conventional wisdom who listens to Rush all day and when you press the right button... out it comes. Our first conversation started with him telling me how Bush fights hard for America and how he's really a good president for the U.S. Of course I calmly disabused him of that notion and explained that Bush is the absolute worst president America has ever had and that he has done nothing whatsoever for the U.S. except bring it down. Alec had a lot to say about Argentine politics as well, of course, and he introduced me to a delightful new word, "rabanito." It's the word for radish and when an Argentine applies it to a person, he's refering to someone red on the outside and white on the inside. The genesis of the word was a Cuba-loving soccer coach, César Luis Menotti (1978 World Cup winner) who loved rolexes and fancy cars as much as he loved Castro and Che.

Meanwhile, by the way, I'm taking notes about Tierra del Fuego and I'll do a piece on the hotel, the restaurants and all that. It's a pretty classic tourist trap, well on it's way-- though not there yet-- to being spoiled by commercialism. You can see how Ushuaia is turning almost Disneyland-like in its headlong rush to cater to more and more tourists who come for the one real attraction-- it's remoteness, something which, of course, is disappearing. The vistas are undeniably spectacular. Everywhere you look is just breathtaking, except when you look at the expanding town itself.


UPDATE: UGGHH... MORE RIGHT WINGERS

The kinds of people who travel abroad tend to be relatively open-minded. Mostly you meet liberals, not conservatives. Conservatives are, by nature, distrustful and afraid to travel to foreign places, afraid of strange food, strange cultures, incomprehensible languages, afraid of the uncertainties of traveling outside of the U.S. (I always notice that Americans, unlike any other people, seem to be greatly put off when people speak something other than English. Americans seem to assume people are talking about them-- or plotting to blow something up-- if they hear a "foreign" language.) Anyway, a good 75% of the Americans I meet on the road are non-conservatives. It's nice, you can almost bond with anyone by denouncing Bush.


Yesterday's trip to penguin island was an 8 hour expedition with 12 people, half of whom spoke English and half Spanish. The English speakers were yours truly, a British guy in his late 20s finishing up a 6-month sojourn through Latin America and a family of 4 Coloradans just back from Antarctica. The husband was outgoing and friendly, if a bit loud and pushy, but within 5 minutes of meeting him he seems to have taken offense that I referred to Tancredo as a cretin and a fascist. His wife's vibe was 100% right wing dragon lady. My attempts at non-partisan friendliness were not returned. Instead, they insisted on opening the bus' windows to let in the "fresh air," which never got above 40 degrees. After the 8 hour trip they tried to pressure the guide and driver into extending it by several hours by going to a forbidden area, regardless of the fact that no one else on the bus wanted to go anywhere but home (not the least of which, to escape all the fresh, near freezing air they made sure the bus was filled with).

The English guy told me he is a Conservative but we got along fine and I was eager to figure out why someone in England in the 21st Century would ascribe to conservatism. He was unable to enlighten me, knew very little about where the Conservative Party stood on any issue ("I've been out of the country for 6 months," was his excuse) and, other than his loathing for Tony Blair and his worship of Dame Thatcher, he seemed to ascribe to reasonable positions on all the issues he described as being important to the British electorate: immigration and integration into Greater Europe.

Everyone else I've met down here from the U.S. seems to be a Democrat or, at least, anti-Bush. This even though it's pretty expensive to travel in this part of the world unless you want to backpack and stay in hostels.

When we last checked in on Philippe Gatta, the ultrarunner attempting to run the length of the Great Himalaya Trail, a distance of 1700 km (1056 miles), in just 40 days, he was waiting out the weather. Philippe had gotten caught in the mountains just as Cyclone Phailin was hitting the mainland. That storm ended up dumping an unbelievable amount of snow across the region, burying portions of the trail in waist deep powder. It has gotten so bad in fact, that the Frenchman said that the snow was actually reaching the second story of some of the taller buildings in villages that he was passing through. When he returned to the GHT late last week, he found some of the higher passes blocked and impassable. Those conditions have caused him to reassess the expedition and come at it from a different direction – quite literally.

On Saturday, Philippe posted a note on his Facebook page that said that all the passes above 5000 meters (16,404 ft) are closed and would not reopen for sometime. Possibly not until spring. So, he decided to abandon his run where he was at and return to Kathmandu temporarily and then head back out to the trail, launching the next portion of his run from Lukla in the Khumbu Valley. That's the starting point for climbers and trekkers heading to Everest of course. His plan was to run from Lukla to Namche Bazaar and from there head to Island Peak, a 6165 meter (20,226 ft) mountain in the Khumbu region with the intention of climbing to the top. Island Peak is a trekking peak without any technical climbing involved, but considering how much snow it is currently buried under, it will still be a real challenge at the moment.

Another update came yesterday that indicated that Gatta had arrived in Namche after running just 3 hours and 15 minutes to get there. Anyone who has made that trek will tell you that is an impressive time considering it usually takes the better part of two days to walk there. That includes hiking up the famous Namche Hill, which includes some substantial gains in altitude. He'll likely spend a day there resting before beginning the hike to Island Peak.

So, while the objective the run has changes, Philippe is still pushing ahead with his adventure none the less. It appears an attempt to run the entire GHT is done for now, but he'll continue to apply his unique skills to explore the Khumbu Valley. It should be interesting to see how the trek to the mountain goes and if he finds success on Island Peak.

Good luck Philippe!

Photo © Francesco Lastrucci-All Rights Reserved
Here's the work of Francesco Lastrucci, an Italian freelance photographer who specializes in editorial stories. He's currently based between Italy, New York and Hong Kong from where he works on projects involving Europe, Latin America and East Asia.

From Francesco's diverse editorial stories, including a story of the ubiquitous areca nut and betel leaf chewing in Taiwan (as indeed it is in many other Asian countries), and its marketing by beautiful young women, I chose his excellent work on Kashgar, the capital city of the Uyghur.

The Uyghur live in modern Xinjiang, the westernmost province of China, but the name Xinjiang is considered offensive by many Uyghur who prefer to use Uyghurstan or Eastern Turkestan. Kashgar is an oasis city with approximately 350,000 inhabitants, and its old city has been deemed overcrowded and unsafe for its residents, and will have at least 85% of its structures demolished. Demolitions have already begun, with many of its former denizens forced to move.

Kashgar’s old city has been called “the best-preserved example of a traditional Islamic city to be found anywhere in Central Asia, but it is now being razed by the Chinese government which plans to replace the old buildings with new.

The Daily Record has a short, but alarming, article about Conrad Anker's plan to climb Everest using the same gear that George Mallory and his team had back in 1924 on their ill fated attempt at the highest mountain on Earth.

Anker was part of the team that found Mallory's body on Everest back in 1999, and he claims that he's been "haunted" by it ever since. He may be haunted by something else if the weather turns bad on his climb. Apparently the climb will be filmed to be included in a movie project down the line.

I'm not sure about you, but I personally like the new gear we have these days. I'm kind of attached, literally and figuratively, to my fingers and toes. If I were going up Everest in retro gear, I think I would have chosen the gear that Hillary used. At least he was successful in his attempt. :)

Thanks GoBlog!

Update: As usual, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. Fortunately, I have smart readers who are always around to set me straight. Carl has passed on two very cool and interesting articles on the gear that Mallory used and how well it would work on Everest. The first article discusses how after building replicas of Mallory's gear it was determined that not only could Mallory and irvine have survied at high altitudes, they would have been able to climb quite comfortably. The second article is a follow up to the first, with experts actually stating they would rather climb in the Mallory gear than the more modern stuff. The argument is that the the older gear was plenty warm, comfortable, and didn't restrict climbing as much. They did note, however, that it was probably tougher to pee in. ;)

Thanks for the education Carl! Always appreciated. :)

Ian Lloyd is an Australian photographer who has undertaken commissions for magazines such as National Geographic, Time, Fortune, Gourmet and Conde Nast Traveler and multinational companies as diverse as ExxonMobil, Pepsi, Motorola and Singapore Airlines have commissioned Ian for commercial photography assignments. He has photographed 36 books on countries and regions around Asia including large format books on Kathmandu, Bali and Singapore and a four volume series on Australian wine regions.

You'll see from the Spirit of Asia video that it's a retrospective look at 20 years of his photography in Asia. Perhaps somewhat different from most of the travel photography I have featured here on The Travel Photographer blog, but certainly of high quality that we expect from photographers who work with the National Geographic.

The Foundry Photo~Journalism Workshop 2010 is in Istanbul, and if your dream is to be coached by some of the best photographers and photojournalists available, do it now!

The roster of instructors reads like a Who's Who in the world of photojournalism: Tyler Hicks, Lynsey Addario, Jared Moosy, David Bathgate, Jon Vidar, Anastasia Taylor-Lind, Rena Effendi, Ron Haviv, Andrea Bruce, Ami Vitale, Kael Alford, Adriana Zehbrauskas, Henrik Kastenskov, Stephanie Sinclair, Guy Calaf and Tewfic El-Sawy.

The courses currently offered are FROM VISION TO LIFE: Documenting social issues outside the mediaʼs agenda setting; Transitioning to the new world of Photojournalism; Formulating a Photo Essay; Photographing stories; Intimacy and Empathy in Storytelling; Capturing Cultures – Communicating Without Boundaries; The Essential Guide to Backpack Journalism; Introduction to Multimedia Storytelling, and many more.

Here's another thing...photographers like Dhiraj Singh who attended a class at the 2009 Foundry Photojournalism Workshop in India was awarded Honorable Mention (Feature Audio Slideshow) in the National Press Photographers Association's Best of Photojournalism 2010 for an audio slideshow made during that workshop.

Yes, dreams come true when you attend the Foundry...so get on it! There are still a handful of places available.

Photo © Tony Smith-All Rights Reserved
Tony Smith is an adventurous Welsh photographer who, at the age of 15 joined a cargo ship to South America...and this is how his world travel started. He worked on ocean liners, and subsequently on dry land in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), Johannesburg in South Africa and London before settling down in Winchester.

He's been deeply involved in travel photography to the point it's developed into a second career. He tells us in his biography that nothing pleases him more than attending and photographing cultural and religious festivals: the more difficult and remote the better.

Tony is an Associate member of the prestigious Royal Photographic Society. His travels have taken him to Nepal, Bhutan, India, France, China, Spain, Morocco the USA and Canada as well as the West Coast of Ireland. He attended Hindu, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist and Gypsy events.

He has just returned from Haridwar in North India where he attended the Kumbh Mela, and produced a photo slideshow and a blog travelogue.

Tony also produced a number of slideshows of festuivals such as Holi, Gypsy Pilgrimage, Maha Shivratri (particularly recommended) and Feria de Bernabe, as well as others which are on his website.

Photo © Aaron Vincent Elkaim-All Rights Reserved
On the occasion of Passover, I thought of posting an interesting visual-historical-religious photo essay relating to the long Judeo-Muslim history of Morocco by Aaron Vincent Elkaim.

Jewish history in Morocco dates back to over 2000 years, and Jews have lived in the country as a protected minority. Prior to the arrival of the French in 1912, the currency and flag of Morocco carried the star of David, a recognition that it represented a prophet revered by Jew and Muslim (as Dawood) alike. During the Second World War, the king of Morocco famously declared to the Nazis (who wanted a list of Jews) that there were no Jews in Morocco, only Moroccan citizens.

Following the establishment of Israel, most of the Moroccan Jews have left their country of birth for the USA, France, Canada and Israel itself.

Aaron is an emerging documentary photography who initially studied Film and Cultural Anthropology at the University of Manitoba. His work was awarded on numerous occasions and published in newspapers and magazines across Canada.

His photographs in the mellahs of Marrakesh and Essaouira remind me of my own at the synagogues in these two cities last summer, during the Essaouira Gnawa festival.

When I reach 75 years old, I hope I'm still on adventures like this one. Yahoo News is reporting a story on Barbara Hillary who, at the age of 75, recently completed a ski trek to the North Pole.

The retired nurse, who was diagnosed, then beat, lung cancer at the age of 67, becomes one of the oldest people to ever reach the Pole, and she is believed to be the first black woman to accomplish that feat as well. The fact that she did it as part of an adventure travel group doesn't detract from her success in any way.

A hearty Adventure Blog congratulations goes out to Barbara for her accomplishment and for showing a true sense of adventure, that can inspire us at any age.

Thanks for the tip Outdoor Weblog!

Our local team took us here for lunch today as there was an outlet near our office, and I'm glad that they did. Maybe it was because I was so let down by the lack of spicy food that I got last night, but this remedied it, with nearly everything offering a good dose of heat. There was even a fish covered in red and green chili that reminded me a bit of Beautika in Jakarta.

And yes, those ribs above were good, with meat falling off the bone and yet covered in cumin at the same time. It looks like I've had this before at another Hunan restaurant in Shanghai a couple of years ago. I can hardly remember what that one was like, but somehow I suspect that this place was much better. Those crispy prawn heads on a stick here were awesome too.

Now, our local team explained to us that the big difference between Hunan food and Sichuan food is that the former lacks those numbing peppercorns, even if both cuisines are very spicy. I think I've eaten so much Sichuan food lately that it almost seemed weird to eat spicy Chinese food that didn't have peppercorns, but that was also kinda good, since I could actually taste the food this time!

 For over fifty years in the late fifteenth to the mid sixteenth century, Ireland was not ruled from Dublin, it was ruled from Kildare, by the powerful Fitzgerald dynasty based here in their castle in Maynooth.

After the Norman invasions of Ireland, the land around Maynooth in Kildare that had formerly belonged to the O’Byrne family, was granted by Richard de Clare the leader of the Norman forces to Gerald fitzMaurice fitzGerald in 1176. FitzGerald chose Maynooth to be the capital (known at the time as the caput). Originally it was thought that like many other Norman castles in Ireland, the first defensive structures on site would have been made of earth and timber. However in a recent article for Archaeology Ireland, Professor Tadhg O’Keefe of UCD convincingly argues* the case for the first construction to be of stone.
He notes in particular many similarities with the great donjon of Trim Castle, situated relatively close by in County Meath and suggests that there was sharing of knowledge, architects and builders between the two powerful medieval magnates of de Lacey and fitzGerald.

The keep or donjon of Maynooth Castle

By the end of the thirteenth century, the Fitzgerald’s became one of the leading Anglo-Norman families in Ireland. Their profile was boosted considerably in 1316 when King Edward II raised John fitzThomas fitzGerald to the Earldom of Kildare for his services during Edward the Bruce’s invasion of Ireland. However it was in the late fifteenth century when the fitzGerald’s reached their apogee. Gerald fitzGerald was trusted by King Henry VII to rule Ireland in his name. This brought huge wealth to fitzGerald and it was noted that Maynooth Castle was richly decorated. His son, [also called Gerald but known as Gearóid Óg] was Lord Deputy of Ireland for King Henry VIII three times (1513–34, 1524–28 and 1532–34).

He had unprecedented power in Ireland and jealously guarded his families interests. FitzGerald was summoned to London in 1534 by King Henry VIII, and he left his son Thomas as deputy governor in his absence. Thomas was a flamboyant young hothead, known as Silken Thomas for the silk his men wove into their helmets. A false rumour spread that the Earl had been executed by the King, Silken Thomas was enraged at the thoughts of his father being put to death in the Tower of London. He flew into a rage, and charged into St. Mary’s Abbey where the Kings Council in Ireland were meeting. He threw down the sword of state in an act of defiance, and immediately began a campaign against the Kings forces in Ireland. He had his men cut off the water supply to Dublin and laid siege to the City. The campaign was going well, until the Crown forces realised that Silken Thomas had neglected to defend his own stronghold of Maynooth. The English army under William Skeffington managed to negotiate their way into Maynooth Castle, but once inside they slaughtered many of the inhabitants. Silken Thomas heard of the bloodshed and immediately marched to try and save his family home, but he was ambushed and captured on the way. He was brought in chains to London, where he heard that his father had actually died of natural causes and had not been executed after all. Thomas and his five uncles were brought to the place of execution in London, Tyburn, and brutally executed by being hung drawn and quartered. The castle was thought to have been betrayed by Thomas’s foster brother Christopher Paris. The morning after Skeffington took the castle he offered his thanks to Christopher Paris and paid him for his services, but then ordered Paris to be beheaded, probably because he had shown himself to be a duplicitous character not to be trusted.

The undercroft or cellar level inside the keep has a number of interpretative panels

The execution of Silken Thomas and his uncles marked the effective end of the fitzGerald ascendancy, and by the early seventeenth century Maynooth Castle had started to fall into disrepair. Richard Boyle, father of the famous scientist Robert Boyle, became the guardian of the young George fitzGerald and became his father-in-law when George married Boyle’s daughter Joan. He spent large sums renovating Maynooth Castle and constructed a fashionable Manor House. As part of his works many of the original medieval domestic buildings were demolished. The castle suffered a number of sieges and attacks during the Catholic Confederacy Wars of the 1640s and was largely ruined. Squatters took over the castle and made their money extorting money from travellers by tolling the dirt track that runs through the castle which was once the main Dublin to Galway road. The fitzGeralds left their ancient family seat and eventually made Carton House their home.

The area of Boyle's Manor House with its fine arches

Today the castle is an OPW heritage site and you can you can still enjoy the lovely grounds and a trip around the imposing medieval keep. The lower levels have a number of panels that interpret the story of the castle and guided tours of the keep are available on request. The site is free to enter, for opening hours and further information please visit http://www.heritageireland.ie/en/maynoothcastle/

The surviving gatehouse to Maynooth Castle

I do hope you enjoy our blog, we are trying to cover as many sites across Ireland as we can. Please do consider supporting us as we need all the help we can get and we'd really appreciate it. You can support us by sharing our blogposts or by downloading one of our audioguides from www.abartaaudioguides.com, they are packed with original music by Enda Seery and sound effects to make a fun and immersive way of hearing the story of one of Ireland’s iconic heritage sites. They cost just €1.99 and you can enjoy them from the comfort of your own home or at the sites. If you want to try them out before you buy we have a number of guides available free to download, including the incredible Rock of Dunamase, Kells Heritage Town and an audioguide that describes all the archaeology discovered during work on the M6 motorway between Kinnegad and Galway, it’s the story of a landscape through its archaeology.

If you’d like to receive daily updates about great heritage sites then please consider following us on Facebook, Twitter and Google+.

*O'Keefe,.T. 2013, 'Trim’s first cousin: the twelfth-century donjon of Maynooth Castle' Archaeology Ireland, Vol 27 No.2. Pages 26–31. 

I was over at Shaw Towers this morning for work and was totally starving by the time I finished. So I figured that I'd go check out Sofra again, a place that I haven't been to in a million years but seem to remember having a decent experience at. I grabbed this hünkar beğendi, which had some super tender cuts of lamb sitting on a bed of roasted eggplant. Yummm...I wolfed this thing down in seconds, especially with that piping hot sesame bread.

Granted, part of the reason why I liked it was because it was of the heat from those chili peppers, which I'm assuming was just an effort from these guys to cater to the local palate. But even without the spices, I would have loved this thing, perhaps even more than imam bayıldı. That reminds me...I think a more proper visit to Istanbul is in order soon. Why oh why did I not get those fish by the river last time??

When I left London in my VW van in 1969 my goal was Nepal. The combined allure of the Himalayas, Shangri-la and Buddhism had been knocking around in my drug-addled brain for all my teenage years. Between Nixon in the White House and American troops in Vietnam, I figured mankind had no future and I better get to Nepal now or I'd never see it. 1969 was also the year I started the long, hard process of kicking drug dependence. By the time I got to Nepal in 1971 I had pretty much kicked drugs-- although, for sociological reasons, how could anyone possibly resist sampling the hash parlors along Hippie Street? I didn't. But after that I really did kick drugs.

Anyway, my 2-3 months in Nepal became part of my personal lifestory and the wondrous tales about climbing in the Himalayas and about how primitive and backward and peaceful and enlightened I found Nepal were things I talked about a lot. A few of my more intrepid friends wanted to go. And some did. Many years later, when I was living back in America, Nepal was as much a dream for Roland as it had been for me when I was his age and it didn't take much for him to convince me that we should go visit Kathmandu. Today when I woke up and saw the violence in the streets I felt very sad for this peaceful, enlightened, beautiful little corner of the world.

It's funny, I remember more specifics about my 1971 visit than I do about the more recent trip! Although a trip to a place like Nepal has always got to be exciting, I think I remember 1971 more clearly because I drove, I had no money-- my van literally rolled down the last Himalaya into the Kathmandu Valley and I had not a cent to my name-- and I had no choice but to be close to the ground and open myself up to all sorts of adventures.

I guess the two most memorable specific events I recall-- both vividly-- fall into this category, even more than trekking to the base camp of Mount Everest! One involved happening on a neighborhood "hootenanny." Each square block in Kathmandu surrounded the neighborhood temple and at night the baker and the candlestick maker and everyone else would come out and play transcendental music on the temple portico into the wee hours. Those nights will be with me forever. Unfortunately, so will the other adventure. As I was driving back to India after a few months in Nepal, in preparation for a return to Europe after a couple years driving around Asia, I had to ford a stream. My van-- which was both my home and my transportation-- started floating downstream. Some truck drivers lasso-ed me and pulled the van to safety.

In the 90's when Roland and I went, we flew and we stayed in hotels. A great time for sure. But... well, nothing is ever the same. We flew into Bombay (now Mumbai) in late November on Delta, which was a decent airline back then (now it completely sucks, ripping off and cheating its customers in a desperate and pitiful struggle to stay alive). We stayed at the Taj, the grandest and most venerable hotel in Bombay. It's laden with history and antiques and it's right on the water next to The Gateway. It was the hub of some kind of upper class social life, although I recall rooms being around $200. At one point the electricity went out for a long few hours, a drag because ac is a must and we were on a high floor. But poor Roland was in the shower when the power went out and suddenly raw sewage started coming out of the spigot. And Roland is a very fastidious person. He'll never forget that; I'll stick with the Nepali hootenannies.

I don't want to make this a blog about India so I'll cut to the chase. We flew to New Delhi, hung out for a few days and then took a Royal Nepal Air flight to Kathmandu. It's a short, cheap flight, like about an hour. The hotel, The Yak and Yeti, sent a car for us. It was a souped up Hyundai-- like a low-rider deal-- driven by a couple of kids playing rock music cassettes. It was already night but it felt kind of like going home for me-- and I could feel how excited Roland was as we drove into town. So different from the first time I was there-- right after they had paved a road in honor of the crown prince's marriage-- but there is still something timeless about the Kathmandu Valley that I picked right up on.

I could only dream of places like the Yak and Yeti when I was a poor hippie in a van. It seemed like a paradise inside paradise. But, although a contender for "best hotel" in town, it's kind of a dump. Durbar Marg is a kind of upscale area but it doesn't have a lot of personality. Fortunately it's an easy walk to anyplace you could ever want to go in town. We had booked in advance and negotiated a bit and I think we paid something like $125 for both of us and got an upgraded room. The hotel doesn't have much character, just mostly a faceless grand Asian hotel... but this is Nepal and nothing is too grand (except the temples). Anyway, it was worth the dough and we couldn't wait to hit the streets-- me to recapture my 70's adventure, Roland to experience first hand what he had heard about for years.

Neither of us got what we were looking for, of course. But it was actually pretty awesome. We headed over to the Durbar Square area which is honey-combed with temples. The streets were dark and empty and we both got right into the exoticness of it. The packs of stray dogs wandering around didn't make us feel that great but we definitely knew we were in a foreign place, a very foreign place.

The food in Nepal is ok-- kind of like Indian food but cruder. We never found anything amazing but it was all ok. I had a recollection of having eaten in a fancy, yummy place called Boris' when I was a kid. I think it is now called the Chimney Room of the Yak and Yeti and it was founded and run by a Russian émigré name Boris. It's neither fancy nor yummy, except by Nepali standards. They serve Russian food of course. The best Japanese restaurant in town, Fuji, is also very modest but the food was decent and it was very inexpensive for a version of fine dining. Other than that we stuck to modest Nepali restaurants and to the hippie expat hang-outs in Thamel. It's not a foodie place.

It is a great, amazing, phenomenal walking around place. And that's what we did for 10 days. December in the Himalayas... brrrrr... right? No. It's in the Valley and very temperate-- sort of like California weather almost. We stuck mostly to Kathmandu, Patan (an ancient suburb) and Bhaktapur, also nearby. Each one was more wondrous and fantastic than the next-- just magical. The whole place is a living museum. The past is still living and breathing and coexisting with today and every narrow alley and every square is a unique and exotic world.

Because I had talked about it for so long, Roland insisted that the first thing we do the first morning was to go to the legendary Monkey Temple. Turns out, only I called it the Monkey Temple. It is actually the most venerable temple in Kathmandu and it is known as Swayambunth Stupa. Its a little out of town on top of a forested hill with hundreds of stairs to the top. When I was first there the monkeys were pretty wild and threatening. They're a lot tamer now. But it's still quite the schlep to the top; there's a way to drive to the top around back but that's for pussies. Supposedly it's 2,000 years old. The place is crawling with pilgrims (not tourists) and the top is temple upon temple upon shrine upon shrine. It's was amazing-- and totally worth the exhausting climb. We went to a million temples in Nepal but Swayambunth Stupa was our fave.

A close second was the temple complex on Durbar Square in Patan. We loved Patan; it's even more remote from western civilization that Kathmandu itself. We couldn't get enough of it. We traded our airline toiletries kits for thankas. Durbar Square has a royal palace, the Monkey God temple (Hanuman) and temple after temple, each one fascinating and beautiful. We flipped over the Krishna Mandir but there had to have been a dozen at least and it was completely amazing and engrossing.

The next day we went to Bhaktapur, a little further away-- not just geographically, but further back in time as well. It was like going into ancient history, even more so than Patan. (By the time Kathmandu was seeing almost cosmopolitan in comparison). It's about an hour from Kathmandu. We took a bus there for less than a buck for both of us and a taxi back for about $5. The Durbar Square there is more open and has less temples but one is amazing-- a 5-tiered pagoda, Nyatapola.

We did some shopping although didn't really buy much. I picked up another Tibetan rug at the refugee center near Patan and we had fun learning about thankas and buying some and trading for some. Mostly we just loved interacting with the people in their environment. One day we took a bus out to Nagarkot for a spectacular view of the Himalayas and some walking and one of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen. There's a bus from Bhaktapur and it takes a couple hours and costs about a buck. You'll never forget the sights you see from Nagarkot, especially if you hike about a mile out of town to a place where you can see Everest.

When I first heard about this Travelling C.O.W food truck, I didn't really think I would bother with it. Why not? Because I wanted to try Keizo Shimamoto's version in the US first in order to establish a proper baseline for comparison. But then the Wall Street Journal did a story on how these guys set up weekend operations at some art gallery called the U Factory (39 Malan Road), and somehow the idea must have stuck because I ended up coming here for lunch.

The good thing was that it was better than I thought it would be, with those "buns" being easier to handle than I had imagined. The bulgogi inside was juicy and seasoned just right too. Still, I'm not going back for that again, as I waited about 40 minutes for my food...and this was after arriving at 2:45 PM, no less. Perhaps more surprisingly, when I paid for my S$8.90 (US$7) burger with a ten, the guy actually asked me if I had smaller change! (Whaaaaaaatt??)

I ended up telling him to keep the change (though he suddenly seemed to have a lot of small notes after I tried to buy a beer later!). Either way, being in an art gallery clearly didn't put them in a good position to be serving food quickly. And ultimately, that's what I thought of this place, as it was really just a small makeshift exhibit, if you will, rather than somewhere that was really going to churn out food in proper quantities. Man, I wish the Naked Finn were open during the daytime...I'd be there in a heartbeat if so.

When I posted my Antarctic update earlier today I noted that that Ben Saunders and Tarka L'Herpiniere, who collectively make up the Scott Expedition, have now been out on the ice for more than a month. That has not been an easy four weeks for the boys and to get a sense of what they've been dealing with, they released this short video. The footage shows Ben and Tarka at their starting point at Scott's Hut and then gives us a glimpse of what it is like to pull heavy sleds across the frozen expanse that is Antarctica. Bundle up before watching this one, it looks a little cold.