Category: Travel

Travel Outward features articles written about travel worldwide. Browse all of our articles.

  • A Weight Off Your Shoulders

    Big vs SmallBackpacking has gotten more and more popular as a form of traveling, and for obvious reasons: for people going to multiple destinations, carrying gear on your back helps keep you mobile while having everything you need at arm’s length. But as more “nomadic” travelers are heading out in the world, the packs they carry seem to get bigger and bigger. It’s not uncommon, these days, to see people carrying backpacks that look more like skyscrapers towering over their heads, or backpackers looking as though they might collapse under the weight of their bag. Traveling light is one of the greatest advantages of backpacking, and packing wisely can help make your trip much more enjoyable.Over the last 10 years I have traveled throughout Europe, the Caribbean, and elsewhere, never taking more than a 2500-cubic-inch backpack with me. This small size can be tough if you’re going out for an extended period (more than a few weeks) or are traveling to both hot and cold climates. But even if that’s the case, you shouldn’t need a bulky 5000-cubic-inch pack or more, which–fully loaded–makes falling over easier than standing up.

    Simply finding a place to store your pack for the day is much easier when you’re not toting all that weight. Ever try fitting a big internal-frame pack into a locker at a train station? It’s nearly impossible. And walking around a city for a day while shouldering that burden is not fun.

    Below is a list of items that can fit easily into a small pack, with room to spare. Of course, the things on this list will vary depending on your destination, bur the idea remains true. Use this as a starting point.

    HeadlampClothes:
    7 pairs of underwear (or 1 pair for each day, if the trip is under 2 weeks; max 14 pairs)
    7 pairs of socks (or 1 pair for each day, if the trip is under 2 weeks; max 14 pairs)
    5 to 6 T-shirts
    2 to 3 collared or over shirts, to wear on top of your T-shirts
    1 pair of shorts (2 if you are going to a warmer destination)
    1 to 2 pairs of long pants–one being jeans; the other, khakis or similar (or wool if your are going to a colder destination)

    Shower KitFootwear and Jackets:
    1 pair of comfortable shoes (leather hiking boots are best as they can often be used as dress shoes, if going to a nice restaurant, etc., instead of wearing your tattered tennis shoes)
    1 pair of water-proof (river) sandals (if going to a warmer destination; also good to wear if you plan on staying in hostels and/or using public showers)
    1 warm jacket (if going to colder destination)

    Extra Stuff:
    1 umbrella (collapsible, make it as small as possible)
    Water Bottle 1 quick-dry camping towel (medium size)
    1 headlamp or flashlight (headlamps might make you look dorky, but their advantages outweigh all else)
    1 camera (digital, if you have it, with an extra memory card)
    1 paper-back book (not including guidebooks; to keep you busy during those long train rides)
    1 paper-back journal
    1 pen
    Moneybelt 1 money belt (or a money/passport case that you can wear under your clothes)
    1 water bottle
    1 shower kit (that can be easily hung up)
    1 set of playing cards
    Pass the Pigs 1 travel game (“Pass the Pigs” is a favorite of mine)
    1 small luggage lock (to secure your backpack zipper)
    2 medium bungy cords
    2 key-chain carabiners
    1 day pack/book bag (something you can bundle into a small size when not in use)

    All of this and more will fit nicely in a 2500-cubic-inch backpack. And if your pack is a little bigger you’ll have plenty of extra space for whatever else you might want to take. But anything over 3500 cubic inches is most likely overkill–you probably won’t end up needing that much room. Bringing a lot of extra clothes is an easy trap to fall into, but most places will give you the option of cleaning a shirt or two (in the sink, shower, or wherever) and hanging them to dry in a pinch. That said, it’s a good idea to bring a small plastic container of biodegradable liquid laundry detergent.

    Don’t leave home with your backpack stuffed to capacity, as that will probably be your best packing job throughout the whole trip. Somehow, repacking properly gets harder and harder as you go, so if you have a small backpack that is stuffed to the gills, then you should certainly upgrade to one a just little bigger.

    Using bungy cords to strap extra footwear or wet clothes to the outside makes drying and packing a lot easier. (Carabiners can be used for the same purpose.) Chances are, most people will not want to steal your smelly shoes, and bungy cords are important for keeping loose items from flopping around and becoming a nuisance.

    Packed and Ready to GoIt’s understandable that many people would want to bring more gear than what I’ve suggested–after all, you can never be sure of everything you might need along the way–so if you plan on going for an extended period (several months), taking that big pack seems sensible. Who wants to wear the same clothes for 6 months, after all? But as with everything, you should be prepared to make certain sacrifices. Getting rid of some of the more extraneous gear will make touring a lot easier on your shoulders and back, which in turn, will make it easier on your state of mind.

    Remember most big packs (4000 cubic inches or more) were designed for long-term expeditions in remote areas, where you need this added space for a sleeping bag, camp stove, food, and other basic survival gear. For most backpackers, these days, surviving means little more than finding the nearest hostel and hoping it has a bar. It’s amazing how much simpler, and more enjoyable, traveling can be when you pack light and leave the kitchen sink at home.

  • Trailing the Fall of France

    by John Stinson
    Area of interest As a student of World War II, I have been fascinated by what is one of history’s greatest battles, the breakthrough that led to the fall of France in May 1940. Unlike the famous one- or two-day battles such as Waterloo, Antietam, and Gettysburg, there are no monuments or museums to this singular campaign; it is an event the western world would like to forget. But the absence of memorials is, itself, indicative of one thing: this was a battle of movement. I set out to retrace the steps of the soldiers and the tracks of the tanks in this campaign.

    World War II began with the invasion of Poland on September 1, 1939. Although France and England declared war, they did nothing to help their eastern allies. After Poland fell, the “Phony War” left allied England and France, and Germany sitting quietly on their borders, with Belgium in between, hoping the Germans would leave them alone. The Maginot Line, a vast network of underground bunkers and blockhouses built between the two wars to protect France from German invaders, extended only to the southern border of Belgium, making that country all the more obvious as the invasion route. But Belgium suffered so terribly in World War I that it chose not to consider the inevitable.

    The German plan was to attack through central and northern Belgium, as expected, while quietly sending a mobile Panzer corp through the southern Ardennes Forest of Luxembourg and southern Belgium in hopes of outflanking the main British and French armies–effectively going around the Maginot Line, instead of trying to go through it. The plan worked to perfection because the French thought the hilly and heavily wooded Ardennes was an unlikely line of attack, especially for tanks. Virtually unopposed, the Germans were able to reach the crucial line of the Meuse River, cross the lightly defended barrier, and move swiftly north to cut off the allied armies. The war in France was essentially over in a week, though the fighting continued for another month.

    When Germany invaded on May 10, 1940, the allies advanced to planned positions in northern Belgium. This was exactly what Germany wanted. The news was all about the fighting to the north, but while attention was turned toward that battle line, the German Panzers led by Heinz Guderian unexpectedly arrived at Sedan on the Meuse, to the south.

    Backtracking to the opening day, the most famous event in the northern region was the taking of Fort Eben Emael at the junction of the Albert Canal and Meuse River on the Belgium-Holland border. German glider specialists landed on top of the huge fort and neutralized it before the invading army arrived. Taking the fort was more spectacular than important–perhaps an example of Hitler’s uncanny feel for psychological warfare. World War II strategy called for bypassing such obstacles, but Eben Emael is testimony that Allied thinking was still mired in the previous war. They could not have expected the inventive mode of attack, and thus the 1,200 Allied forces inside were overwhelmed by 78 German invaders. The fort is still there, a huge rectangular structure with miles of tunnels. It lies only a few miles southwest of Maastricht, and is worth a visit, less for the fort itself than for the beautiful site.

    As I traveled through the region, my attention was focused on the tank corps slipping through to the south. The Ardennes is hilly, forested, and chopped up with many streams, in other words easily defensible country. For this very reason, the French thought it was impassible for tanks. The French identified tanks with open country, overlooking that the Germans were merely using the Ardennes as an undefended highway.

    Area of Interest, German invasion routeThe tank was invented during World War I and early models were cumbersome. Early tanks had a maximum speed of roughly 5 miles per hour and crossing a stream presented difficulties because of their weight; country bridges were often unable to support them. At the opening of the Second World War, German tanks were relatively light and emphasized mobility. Many French tanks were heavier and used largely in support of infantry, perhaps leading to the confusion about difficulty of passage. The British invented the idea of unified separate tank corps supported by mobile infantry, but only the Germans put the tactics to use. They tested independent use of tank divisions in Poland, but the French took little notice, even though success in Poland dictated similar tactics in France.

    About half the Ardennes is in Luxembourg, which had only a ceremonial army. The French were informed by the local villagers and even had scouts in the area, but poor communications left Allied headquarters believing this German posturing was a minor event. The French commanders assumed it would take the German Panzers about 10 days to reach the Meuse. In fact, Guderian and his division made the trip in 3.

    I began my excursion with a diversion to Bastogne, in southern Belgium, which gained notoriety in the Battle of the Bulge, four years later. This town has the usual tourist attractions–monuments and a war museum–and modern-day Bastogne continues to identify itself more with the war, than with anything else. Leaving Bastogne, I went south to Martelange on the Luxembourg-Belgium border, which the Germans reached on the first evening of their advance. I then took the road west to Neufchateau (Neufchateau also became well known in the Battle of the Bulge). Going east out of Neufchateau in the direction of the center of the German advance, I followed a narrow road along a stream–a road probably much the same today as in 1940. Despite the enticing lush, green landscape, this is rugged wooded country, and should have been easy to defend. Nevertheless, all the Germans had to do was drive off a few Belgian troops posted at occasional crossroads. Their target, as was mine, was Sedan, on the Meuse River.

    The French state of mind is illustrated by their casual attitude toward manning a line they knew to be crucial. Part of the French mental block was the idea that rivers would stop tanks. Pontoon bridging for walking infantry, in use for centuries, requires only light equipment. The French discounted the ability of heavy trucks to carry tank-bridging equipment. Again, they had not allowed modern techniques to penetrate their World War I mentality. In particular, the French saw the Meuse River, approximately marking the western boundary of the Ardennes, as a major obstacle that would require considerable time to bridge, even though German tanks had already sprinted across larger rivers in Poland. French planning called for a minimum of 10 days to reach the Meuse based on the number of other rivers and streams that had to be crossed first.

    A shallow spot in the Semios RiverThe most important of the intervening rivers is the Semois. The Semois is a meandering river with tight, graceful curves, cutting through almost pristine forestland. This river now provides a place for many to relax on its banks, or play in its water, but at the time, it represented a major entryway into French territory. The Semois is no mere stream and at that point its bridges had been blown. However, the river is extremely shallow in many places, and a shallow ford with a firm bottom could be crossed without bridging. At other points the Semois is considerably wider and therefore even shallower. Driving along the river in the area where the tanks traversed revealed many good crossings adjacent to the road. German sport fisherman had picked out ahead of time the fords with the shallowest, sturdiest bottoms where the tanks could cross without getting bogged down in the river bed.

    After searching for passable fords in the area, I continued west to the spectacular town of Bouillon, on the Semois, a convenient stopping point. The town sits in the river valley at a sweeping curve of the river, its centuries-old buildings (including the Castle of Bouillon–once occupied by Godfry V, leader of the first Crusade on Jerusalem) creeping up the steep banks on either side. Not far from the ancient fort is the justly named Panorama Hotel, where Heinz Guderian spent the night of May 12. Its spectacular view makes a visit worthwhile.

    By the evening of May 12 (the third day) Guderian had reached the Meuse at Sedan with the main force. Sedan is only a short drive from Bouillon. Steep banks along much of the Meuse in this region means it is easily protected; Guderian headed for Sedan specifically because the countryside there is flat on both sides of the river, making a crossing more difficult to oppose.

    Steel bridge over the Muese in HouxCommanding the northernmost arm of Guderian’s Panzer corps–before he became an infamous figure in the war–Erwin Rommel’s division reached the Meuse, on the same day as Guderian, but roughly 40 miles to the north, just above Dinant. His route, unlike Guderian’s, did not go through undefended Luxembourg, and Rommel ran into more resistance. But the roads were better and Rommel, himself, was driven like no other division commander. When he reached the Meuse at Yvoir, the bridge had been blown. Rommel went up river (south) to find a crossing. Here, in an area with low river banks, he found an old weir, or low dam, between the shore and a small island at the little village of Houx. The weir extended to the western bank. Rommel promptly got troops across on top of the weir, under cover of darkness. It’s all there today, except that the old wooden dam has been replaced with steel and a foot bridge. As they reached the far side, history books describe the troopers as crouching under the bank fighting off French defenders, but in fact there are no steep sides here and the country to the west is reasonably flat. The next morning, several hundred yards upstream, Flat country near Rommel’s river crossingRommel strung a cable over the river capable of carrying pontoon-supported vehicles. After commandeering another division’s bridging equipment (his had been used farther back) a full pontoon bridge was laid a mile upstream, at Bouvinges, on May 14. Tanks were moved over the Meuse both here and at Sedan.

    Finding remnants of those historic days is difficult. No monuments stand to the German invaders. The Auberge de Bouvinges, a small hotel between Houx and Bouvinges on the western bank, known for its excellent dining room, has pictures of Rommel’s crossing on its walls, but these are the sole artifacts I found of those famous events.

    As a military historian, I was interested in why the French thought of the Meuse as a formidable barrier. Along much of its course, in this area, the banks are high and easily safeguarded, but there are low points, principally at Sedan, and it was at these that the Germans directed their attention. Sedan is in France, so the French had not been inhibited from building defenses, but the troops there were both second line and few in number. Reinforcements were slow coming up, because attention was directed to the north.

    Guderian had forced a crossing by late in the afternoon of May 13, a mere day after his arrival, before the French could react. Lack of attention to Sedan is all the more remarkable, as the city is infamous in French-German military history as the place of Napoleon III’s defeat in 1870, after which the Germans marched into Paris.Sedan is an unattractive, small city. Some of the other crossing towns, such as Dinant and Namur (the target of the Bulge counterattack in 1944) make for better stops, but no matter where you are on the Meuse, the striking geographic feature for the military historian is the river’s narrowness. At Dinant (just south of Rommel’s crossing) and Sedan, the Meuse is only 100 yards wide. Stand on the river bank just below Sedan and imagine crossing under fire in a rubber raft. Frightening, to be sure, but not impossible, especially with a rain of fire behind the paddlers and the Stuka dive bombers, their sirens screaming, causing the French defenders to protect all sides. And at such close range, tank and machine guns firing from the east bank had a strong influence. The Germans were short of artillery, but were near enough that heavy artillery was not needed. The more the German feat is analyzed, the easier it is to understand, especially given French incompetence and defeatism.

    The best account of the fall of France is Alistair Horne’s To Lose A Battle. The book sets the tone for the collapse by examining the French mentality resulting from World War I and conditions in France between the wars. Horne also wrote on the Verdun battle in World War I, in his book The Price of Glory. This induced me to drive on to Verdun, an hour and a half south of Sedan, where I found a clue to the French defeat in 1940.

    Monument outside VerdunVerdun is a medieval town steeped in military history–from the Treaty of Verdun in 843, which divided the vast empire of Charlemagne among his warring grandsons; to the bloody battle of 1916, in which an estimated 700,000 French and Germans lost their lives, so that no side clearly won; to the 1984 United Nations declaration of Verdun as an “International City of Peace.” Two principal forts defending Verdun still exist. One in particular, Douaumont, appears unconquerable as it dominates the surrounding terrain. However, not only did the Germans succeed in taking both forts, but the French retook them later (from the easier back side). The limitation of such strongholds under modern conditions would seem to have been demonstrated. Nonetheless, impressed by how long one of the forts held out, the French were encouraged to build the Maginot Line.

    The monumental ossuary outside Verdun is striking for its deep sense of doom. This is a tomb, not a glorification of victory. The windows have plaque-like overhangs that give the appearance of tears. At the back, on a slightly lower level, is a chapel. The service being conducted while I was there befitted the utter gloom of the structure. In front is a large cemetery. Unlike the uplifting American cemeteries in
    Verdun Monument
    Monument outside Verdun
    Europe, with beautiful crosses of white marble, the French crosses are made of concrete, left to crumble from lack of maintenance, casting a gray, desolate image.

    The tone of Verdun comes from the appalling casualties in the great battle there. Mutiny surfaced late in the battle, and subsequently in other segments of the French army. The French suffered so terribly in the First World War that an unwillingness to face a similar fate a mere 22 years later is not surprising. Although German losses in World War I were severe, their land was never invaded. They were humiliated by the harsh terms of the Versailles Treaty without having been driven from the field of battle. They had the advantage of less suffering in that war, and they had the impetus for revenge. While, arguably, the French are to blame for the success of the 1940 invasion, and for allowing the Germans to rearm in the 1930s, millions of French casualties and devastation to the richest portion of the country in the first war accounts for the failure of 1940.

    I found an uplifting sentiment in the American cemeteries in this and other regions. The Omaha Beach cemetery is the most often visited, but it is only one of many. There are more in this area than any other, for not only was the Battle of the Bulge here, but also the fierce fighting around Metz in the fall of 1944. The cemeteries are beautifully laid out and maintained. One of the most interesting was found by following a sign in a small village north of Verdun. After wandering in for miles through French farmland, I came to the cemetery, which had a different look from the others. It was carefully graded and formally laid out, whereas the distinguishing feature of the others was their informal rolling contours that fit the surrounding landscape. On inspecting the stones, I was surprised to find all the dates in 1918: World War I. This is rugged country, terrible for attack. Why did so many American lie here?

    The answer is that the American Expeditionary Force refused to fight as integrated units with their allies because French and British commanders had thrown their men repeatedly at machine guns and shrapnel for small gains that were quickly lost because of the huge casualties. Insisting on a separate front, the Americans were naturally given one of the worst areas, under the assumption they could not possibly advance. In fact, they did advance. Some authorities think that the Germans gave up when they saw that the American civilian army really could fight. Looking around the Argonne countryside, having walked down the footpath of one of history’s greatest and most devastating battles, gives me pause, and makes me wonder how they succeeded so many years ago.

  • Live Free or Die: Are New Hampshire’s Colonial Barns Merely a Thing of the Past?

    Familar New England scenery. But for how long?The Village of Bath offers the triple crown of New England photo opportunities. Within just feet of each other Bath has the oldest general store in the country, a white-steeple, a country church, and a covered bridge that spans the Ammonoosuc River. This is the New England of postcards.

    The village is nestled in a valley of rolling farmland in northern New Hampshire and, much like some of the state’s other rural communities, Bath offers a nostalgic look back at simple, clean, country living. For those tourists who flock to this part of the country during the foliage season, Bath is a town blessed with these and other highly identifiable New England portraits. And while just a drop in New Hampshire’s population bucket–932 at last count–Bath is a huge blip on any foliage lover’s radar screen. Bus loads of “leaf peepers” descend on the village each autumn to get a glimpse of what they want New Hampshire to be: a safe haven from the perils of the 21st century.

    New HampshireThe Brick Store is steeped in the aromas of homemade smoked cheddar and assorted meats. The covered bridge is a sturdy reminder of reliability and the Bath Congregational Church evokes a sense of strong neighborly bonds between community members. Still, although the village itself produces such warm sentiments in its visitors, another landmark of New Hampshire’s traditions is just down the road–off the beaten path. That symbol is the colonial family barn. Big, red and almost defiant in its straight-forward design, this particular barn belongs to the Minot family–operators of a struggling seven-generations-old dairy farm–though theirs is but one of many around the state.

    New Hampshire MapTourists rarely step down from their buses or park their SUVs to go sifting through cow stables and haylofts, but still the New Hampshire barn is ever-present in the background of New Hampshire memories, rarely sparking a strong reaction, but always lurking somewhere in the camera’s view-finder.

    Not many people load up the car for a “good barn touring weekend,” nor are there many catchy T-Shirts targeting the barn loving community: “Is That a Silo in Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy to See Me?” But these old barns are as much a part of New Hampshire’s scenic reminders as the general stores, covered bridges and white-steepled country churches. The thought of losing these historic buildings has started to disturb a number of people throughout the region, as the Division of Travel and Tourism Development takes stock of what tourists expect to see when driving through the Granite State.

    Tourism is the second largest revenue generator in New Hampshire’s economy; as such, it is important to keep New Hampshire quaint and its barns upright. According to the Division of Travel and Tourism Development, that industry employs over 68,000 people who, directly or not, tend to the 27 million visitors who spend upwards of $3.7 billion per year. And although some of those visitors are coming up to hit the ski slopes in winter, most come through the state during the summer and fall.

    “People don’t come up to New Hampshire to look at McDonald’s,” said John Porter, from the University of New Hampshire’s Cooperative Extension and coauthor of Preserving Old Barns–Preventing the Loss of a Valuable Resource. “They come up here to look at the rural, rustic environment and barns typify this. When some of these old structures come down you really miss them, it doesn’t seem the same when you go driving around.” The barns of yesterday may not be around tomorrow as more and more of these once solid structures start to crumble into disrepair. They are expensive to restore if not maintained properly and the barns of the 1800s still used on today’s working farms are slowly becoming out-dated as newer technologies help farmers cut down on some of their labor-intensive work, bringing with them a new, more open type of barn.A recent campaign to save some of the state’s cultural legacies has resulted in the New Hampshire state legislature passing a law this summer, helping owners of historic structures with property tax relief. The theory behind this new law is to prevent barn owners from avoiding sometimes expensive renovations because of the fear of a higher property tax bill. [Editor’s note: New Hampshire is one of the few states in the nation without a state income tax. To make up for this, property taxes are notoriously high.] In the past, some of these people have let their barns deteriorate into a pile of rotting lumber simply because of financial concerns. One popular and creative way of getting rid of the barn in the back yard was to set it on fire in order to give the local fire department practice extinguishing structural blazes–allowing parts of New Hampshire’s history to literally go up in smoke.

    The origins of these endangered buildings goes back to the earliest days of colonialism in these parts. As settlers migrated to central New England in the 1600s, the unspoiled forests provided plentiful timber for farmers to start their homesteads. With readily available lumber came the notion of constructing larger barns than many had before, using the space to store not just grain and feed, but also the family’s livestock. For over two centuries the typical New England barn was what they called an “English barn”–usually a thirty by forty, one-level structure made with a hand-hewn wooden frame and a simple gable roof.

    As these simple structures became more inadequate for farmers looking to commercially produce their wares, the barns began to expand in size and shift in configurations. In the 1820s farmers started to construct their barns with open cellars that could handle removing manure easily from the stables on the main floor. By the mid 1800s, farmers were building three- to four-story barns for ever more grain, livestock, and hay storage.

    Of course all of these barns were built without planning for a future defined by mechanized farming tools or bothersome state health inspectors. This means it’s difficult to adapt may of these buildings to modern farming needs.

    The father and son team of Bill and Will Minot make up the sixth and seventh generation of that family, respectively, to work their 300-acre dairy farm in one of the many outlying meadows of Bath. The scenery on the Minot farm is one that could grace a New Hampshire postcard. A country road winds its way toward the farm as cows lazily mill around pastures dissected by low stone walls. At the heart of the Minot farm’s operations, both physically and economically, is the barn, built in 1802 by Samuel Minot, who “cleared the place,” according to Bill, the elder of the two. The barn is impressive in both its stature and its connection with the family history.

    Bill Minot and his dog Turner in front of their barn built in 1802Bill is an easy-natured man with a long, bushy salt-and-pepper beard. He shows off the barn with great pride that produces an eagerness to understand his family’s domain and livelihood. His son Will is a more serious, stockier, and younger version of the father. Will seems always ready to work–the barn is not just part of Will’s heritage, but it’s also deeply connected with his future financial well being. In fact, the duo is now in the process of buying out Arthur Minot, the 76-year-old, fifth-generation farmer, who has recently retired from the dairy business.

    Bill and Will constitute the entire full-time work force, caring for and milking their 54 Holstien cows and tending to their fields. It’s back-breaking work, skirting through the basement stables with heavy wheel-barrows full of grain, spreading out the hay with pitch forks, and pushing around the large, slow-moving animals.

    The two get some help from modern technology, but the barn itself prevents them from taking advantage of luxuries like automatic feeders and the latest air ventilation systems. “Being somewhat lazy I don’t mind using things with hydraulics and gasoline,” 50-year-old Bill says with a mix of self-effacing humor and satisfaction, as he logs in 14-hour days–18 hours during harvest (the Minots farm their all the feed for their cows)–through biting cold winters and oppressive summer heat. The Minot day starts at 5 A.M. with first milking, and finishes at about 7 P.M., if all goes smoothly.

    With more efficient technology, the Minots could maybe cut those hours down; however, one important obstacle stands in the way: the barn.

    “The biggest challenge with this work is adapting modern technology with to a 200-year-old barn,” Minot said. “The push today is away from this style barn. To replace it would cost about $200,000.”

    While the thought of a larger barn with more open space on the ground floor for the livestock would be ideal, the price tag for such an upgrade is too steep as many dairy farmers around the state deal with extremely low dairy prices and razor thin profit margins. Like other dairy farmers in New Hampshire, the Minots begrudgingly rely on government subsidies, however, that financial support still makes the choice between building a new barn or keeping up with the bills an easy one. And although President Bush’s latest farm bill has some money allocated to help farmers like the Minots, the gears of government turn slowly.

    “Some of these guys are losing $4,000 a month and they can’t keep doing that,” said Robb Thomson, state executive director for the U.S. Department of Agriculture–New Hampshire Farm Service Agency. “The farmers are kind of hanging on for the farm bill money because there is milk price relief in it but we’re concerned that we’re going to lose some people.”

    And with the farmers gone, there is also a great risk of losing the history and beauty of the barns to decay or scrap.

    According to Minot, the biggest enemy for these old barns is that “the minute you stop using them, they fall apart.”

    Ernie LaBombard grew up in Hanover and as a child, he remembers, his favorite playground was an abandoned colonial barn on the outskirts of town. It was a gold mine for any child to explore, filled with dirty nails, sharp edges, and other dangerous things mothers warn their kids about. One day, when heading to the antique “jungle gym,” Ernie came upon a terrible surprise–the local fire department had doused the structure and set it ablaze in order to sharpen their rescue and extinguishing skills.

    This memory stuck with LaBombard as he would later join his brother Jesse in a business to restore and save old barns from a similar fate. In 1984 the team started the Great Northern Barns company, which is headquartered in Canaan, New Hampshire. Today, the LaBombard brothers buy the barns that nobody wants and dismantle them, with the intention of rebuilding them elsewhere.

    Great Northern Barns in action–stripping a barn in Strafford“We take the barns that people look at and think, ‘My God what a piece of junk,’ where I can see what is possible and try and save it,” Ernie said. “The older the better.” Once meticulously dismantled–categorizing each piece of wood as though on an archeological dig–the company will either store the frame and wood siding or ship it off to some of their clients who are looking to reuse the structure for their house or office. Great Northern Barns can attend to about 20 barns a year and have them relocated all across the country. The company has moved barns to Texas and as far as Oregon. However, when asked where most of these old barns go, without hesitating, Ernie replies, “to people with money.” Because the work is highly technical and the material is unique, the barn restoration industry is big business. A standard English frame, that is 30 feet by 40 feet, can range from $24,000 up to $75,000, depending on the work it needs. Often times these pieces will be shipped to pockets of wealth like Greenwich, Connecticut, or the Hamptons, on Long Island. Ernie estimates that about one-third of his restructuring projects are for second homes, another third for first homes, and the rest for barns or workshops.

    But even though he may ship these pieces out of state, their historical significance is not lost on him. Although some people do not agree with moving antique barns out of New Hampshire, Ernie argues that he is saving the structures so that they can continue to demonstrate the almost forgotten craftsmanship that went into creating them. “You look at the history books and you see what was going on then and it really blows your mind,” he says. “After a while you realize what they are. The really old ones are like a piece of furniture: someone made each piece.”

    And while many barns around the state are slowly crumbling, preservationists are scrambling to help owners with their up-keep in an effort to ensure New Hampshire’s past will be part of New Hampshire’s future.

    new_hampshire_barn2.jpgOne group, the New Hampshire Preservation Alliance, is working to establish a statewide registry so that the owners start to realize what they have, and almost more importantly, what they could have if properly maintained. So far that effort is gradually moving along–the group has about 30 properties listed for historic preservation purposes.

    Although the colonial barn is very much part of the New Hampshire wallpaper, it means many different things to people throughout the region. For the tourist, it is a small piece of the puzzle of how people used to live and work. For the farmer, it is crucial infrastructure and one of the continuing costs of doing business. For those who make their living off the people visiting the state, it is a precious commodity that must be preserved.

  • Nirvana, Well Burma Anyway

    by Shane Williams-Ness
    17-20 May 2002
    Myanmar/BurmaNee said, “I am suffering very much in my life, mum.” I know, I know, I thought–appropriate choice of words for being in Yangon (Rangoon): “suffering.”We are in a Buddhist country…Buddha and the Eightfold Path. You suffer through life–since need or want creates unhappiness, so to be able to do without need and want gives us the ability to reach a higher level of consciousness–and when we die, we are assured of Nirvana. And so, Nirvana…

    To me right now, Nirvana would be to be diving into Lake George or sitting on a porch on Martha’s Vineyard, overlooking the sea, or watching the Eel River float by. Nirvana means such different things to us all.

    The Burmese are Buddhists–more than 80% are Buddhist anyway–and they are gentle and kind and very devoted. And I wonder, what is it that they want that causes such suffering? They want their children to grow up without malaria, they want to live in a home that is dry, they want an umbrella that doesn’t leak, and they want a job. None of them, it seems, want to get rich, drive a fancy car, and live in a big home or go on vacation. A want for someone in Myanmar (Burma), who is not Chinese Burmese or Indian Burmese, might well be to have a family feast, with enough space in a home for their friends and relatives, or to maybe buy a fresh longhi (sarong).

    Ah, Nee, I thought, we are all suffering, but you mate, I agree, are suffering more than we are. And rest assured, you will get a tip upon finishing our tour around the Shwedagon Pagoda.

    Shwedagon PagodaNee, dressed in a clean longhi and navy blue collared golf shirt, showed us around this enormous religious space, built almost two thousand years ago. The main section (which looks like a giant pointy-topped bell) is just under 90 meters high, is encased with 60 tons of gold leaf, and is truly something to see. I’m just glad it was an overcast day–otherwise sunglasses would have been a must. It was built by two merchant brothers, and thousands of devoted servants, to honor Buddha, and it purportedly contains eight strands of Buddha’s hair. At the top of this structure, a 75-carat diamond is encased–supposedly still there. The sharp point at the tip of the spire would not allow anyone to scale to the top to steal it, although one bloke–a Portuguese trader and adventurer by the name of Philippe de Brito, who spent many years in Myanmar–did make an attempt to pilfer the whole top portion of the pagoda. He got as far as a nearby river, before the bell accidentally slipped into the water and remained there, stranded, for a century or more. Some stories have it that the bell itself, which had been the object of de Brito’s affection, could even be seen poking though the surface when the water was low. That was roughly in the early 17th century, and his punishment for messing with sacred Buddhist symbols remains clear: he was impaled. Unfortunately he didn’t position himself properly, for execution, and it took him two full days to die. Yikes. Poor Senhor de Brito.

    The Portuguese trader didn’t make it, but the pagoda was eventually put in order, and although, later, the British tried to take it down again, and earthquakes caused damage, it is very clearly still in the middle of Yangon, able to be viewed from all parts of the city–a stunning sight.

    Nee lead us through the pagoda terraces, where Buddhist novices, some as young as 6, 7, and 8 years old, with shaved heads (both girls and boys) celebrate their initiation ceremony with lotus flowers, Buddhist stone, 180 round gem prayer beads (the Buddhist mantra is said 180 times at a go), and prayer and song. If a Burmese is lucky, he will visit this sacred place at least once in his life, so people come from all over this beautiful country–the largest country in Southeast Asia–to savor the experience.

    The rainy season has begun, and a storm, a cyclone to be exact, is brewing over the Bay of Bengal. The wind is strong, and we all run to find cover underneath prayer room overhangs facing the main tower. We are surrounded by statues of Buddhist deities–each representing different abilities to grant wishes to the truly devoted. The Burmese are knelt in prayer, palms together, thumbs either facing their heart, or their arms raised higher, thumbs pointing to their noses. They bend down to touch their noses to the floor, and stay kneeling for long lengths of time, concentrating their minds on the Buddha and his teaching. They are very serious.

    …Eat little, and sparingly, be kind to one another, speak gently to each other, never revile another human form, live in as secluded and peaceful a place as you can, to concentrate yourselves on higher thoughts….

    That sounds nice, I think. Nirvana.

    The deity I spend the most time in front of blesses those who are in want of children, so I gave her a necklace of jasmine we bought from the flower venders, and placed a couple of lotus flowers in the flower pot. Why not? I thought. Couldn’t hurt.

    Then Nee took us to pay alms to our respective “planet.” My husband Jamie, born on March 9th, falls under the planet for the dragon. I fall under the planet for the lion. So we pour water over the respective deities, and “clean” them, to show our appreciation for all of the luck we have in our lives. And then we concentrate our minds on the Buddha to ask for future happiness.

    We didn’t find Nee, Nee found us–sort of tagged along with our tour group, and noticed two clearly white tourists, wandering around the Shwedagon Pagoda, probably thinking, Okay, awesome, giant, very gold–a bit gaudy–would have liked to see it when the British explorer Ralph Fitch fist saw it, overgrown with weeds and trees, among the low-lying mountains. But alas, the Burmese like their gold, and they seem to like fresh yellow paint. They’ve painted fresh, peaceful faces on a lot of the Buddha’s, but we thought the originals would have been so much more intriguing.

    Myanmar, or Yangon, really, in the short time we’d been there, seemed an overgrown, decaying colonial outpost. At one time beautiful and efficient, remnants of what it once was had been left fairly unattended to for over 50 years. The lovely old estates are crumbling and many are now deserted–shadows of colonialism–weeds and trees covering once pristine lawns and parks. Handsome white-washed stone walls, elaborate wrought iron gates, lush gardens, water fountains, homes with stylized facades that reminded me of gingerbread detail, all stand side by side with the Burmese timber structures that were as character-filled, if not as imposing as the Anglican churches nearby. The infrastructure is more efficient than Vietnam and Cambodia–less traffic, no motorcycles, more traffic lights, and people obeying them. But Yangon could use a new coat of paint, a bit of sprucing up, a burning of the opium fields, and a benevolent leadership, I think. Myanmar is currently governed by a military junta that often turns a blind eye to a fair judicial system. There has been a history of suppressing democratic ideals, which has repeatedly led to the mistreatment of the members of the democratic opposition. A case in point: the largest democratic political party, the National League for Democracy, is headed by a Nobel laureate and peacemaker Aung San Suu Kyi; she has been in and out of house arrest and forbidden to leave her country (or at least forbidden to return, if she does leave) for much of the past decade or more.

    Our tour guide operator (not Nee, but our proper guide) looked, in my opinion, exactly like Aung San Suu Kyi: beautiful, chiseled, medium-to-long hair, cleanly pulled back in a pony tail, about 50 years old (maybe older), but looked much younger. She had beautiful skin and kind eyes, and was very somber–almost angry when she was not smiling or when she was not talking with someone. But when she smiled, she beamed, and you knew that was who she was, truly. Her name was N’uahn.

    Of all the people we’ve met in Southeast Asia, the people of Cambodia, I thought, were most beautiful. Something about their eyes, and their inner spirit–they glowed… Especially the children. But the people in Myanmar, both the men and the women, are elegant and confident. They seem to know who they are and where they’ve come from, and despite colonialism followed by harsh military rule, their cultural heritage remains basically intact. All the men wear their traditional longhi, a long Indian-type sarong, with either a colored golf shirt or cotton button down shirt; and the women wear something similar–a long straight batik skirt and matching top. The Burmese now live their lives with virtually no outside influence, as opposed to the Cambodians, who had much of their country and culture destroyed by the Pol Pot regime and various tomb raiders. The Vietnamese, a bit similar to Cambodians for being as lovely as they are, are under considerable outside pressure from Western commercialism–which in a way has resulted, or has seemed to result, in a mania for money and all of the “evils” surrounding want and entitlement.

    It seems that the Burmese are not very interested in serious merchanting or business. They just want to live, have a job, and have a family. It seems to be the influence of the Chinese and the Indians that creates an almost avaricious atmosphere, desperate for money. A fast buck here, a few chats there, sell, sell, sell. Wear more gold watches. Appear rich. Make more money.

    The Burmese, I bet, before the British ruled the country, and let in thousands of Northern Indians and in the process a tidal bore of cultural diversity, were an isolated, easy-going, agrarian society. Spending their time and money on Buddhist devotion, and in the creation of lives and religious devotional sites. In the 1960s, approximately 12 years after the British left, the Burmese literally rounded up the Indians and Chinese, and told them to leave the country–taking with them no more than 75 chat (currently, approximately 50 cents), and whatever else they could carry. Clearly some time between then and now, they’ve been let back in, to better or worse consequences.

    Food in Myanmar is not a strong memory: some curry, some rice, fruit, asparagus, lemon leaf, okra, sautéed crickets. In all, I noticed that among the ethnic Burmese, food is not such a big deal. The monks eat only until noon every day, and most Burmese have gone through Buddhist training. Gluttony, we realized was frowned upon. The Chinese Burmese, on the other hand, love their food and their feasts, as a time for family and celebration. I am more Chinese than Burmese, I’ve decided.

    This is a country to move slowly through, making one’s way up to the northern hill tribes–to Inle Lake near Mandalay, and Bagon. Burma has over 35 ethnic tribes–the ones closer to Nepal are the Himalayan Burmese; the ones further south, the Shan; the Wa (who Jamie likes to read about) reside within one of the 14 “states,” ruled by a mafia-like warlord who doesn’t allow foreigners in and is said to be the main cultivator of the opium trade. We’re not going to Wa.

    So with Nee gone, and the cyclone moving closer to Yangon, Jamie and I start our time in Myanmar. In all, we hope for a nice taste of a country that should also be seen in the dry season, and never with a bus full of Singaporean tour guides, I’ve decided.

  • 12 Pounds, 26 Inches, 1 Passport

    Baby Passport From the moment I learned that my six-week old son needed a passport for an upcoming trip to France, I knew that his mother, Beth, and I were in for a steady diet of headaches and laughs. The process, which I hope is near completion, has indeed provided us with both.Since the onset of this ordeal, I have tried to envision our son, Archie, going through French or American customs. While Beth and I are convinced that he is quite advanced and extremely gifted, I doubt very much that he could successfully answer any questions from immigration officials on either side of the Atlantic. At this point, the only things he could likely declare is that he enjoys sucking his fist and things that are soft and fluffy.

    I am sure that the American government has determined with good reason that infants need passports, and in today’s world of heightened security, countries can never be too cautious. However, there must be some sort of happy medium between national defense and abundant wastes of time. I also know that the U.S. Congress has much to do, but I hope that in between attending six-figure fundraisers and distancing themselves from their former pals and sunken figures at so many scandalously failed corporations, the good men and women of Washington could alleviate some of the obstacles in obtaining an official document for a 12-pound, 26-inch boy.

    Let me also state, that it has been my wife who has dealt with the bulk of the responsibility for getting Archie his passport. She has been the one to load him in the car and set out for the post office, photo mat, and town hall. I have principally been an entertained eyewitness to the entire process, but still believe I have a duty to share the absurdity of the situation with fellow parents and travelers.

    Despite the blithe tone of this piece, parents who plan to travel internationally with their children should assume that the State Department will not share my sense of humor on the subject, and will definitely require a passport for any child, no matter how young or how cute. Parents should also recognize that with absolutely no snags, the process to acquire a new passport usually takes up to six weeks. I hope the tone of this article successfully suggests that a snag-free procedure is highly unlikely. There is also an option for “expedited passport services” that, for an additional $60, will deliver a passport in only two weeks. (I suspect two weeks is the government’s equivalent of lightening speed.)

    Most of the information concerning passport issues can be found on the State Departments Web site, http://travel.state.gov/passport_services.html. Not surprisingly, the site is a lot like the government itself: it offers some guidance, without being completely comprehensive or totally insightful: it has decent potential, but fails in its overall execution. Much of the site is vague and incomplete, and it reminds me of Dan Quayle’s vice presidency. Sure, he was young, handsome, and energetic, but he also misspelled potato in front of a second grade class. The Web site provides some assistance on what parents should expect when applying for a passport for anyone under the age of fourteen and it should be utilized as a starting point. It details some of the whats, whens, wheres, and hows that are moderately useful, but are not wholly reassuring, in this quest. The site is teeming with references to official issues like, the Child Citizenship Act of 2000 and Public Law 106-113. And no governmental resource would be complete without a tedious list of numbered forms such as DS-11, DS-71, FS-240, and my personal favorite, DS-1350. I also gathered from the Web site that Archie and I should avoid places such as Iran, Iraq, Uzbekistan, the Kyrgyz Republic, and other inviting destinations. These warnings proved to be a tremendous asset, as I have since reevaluated my decision to rent a summer place in Baghdad.

    As I wrote earlier, the State Department Web site did proffer some information that enabled us to begin our quest for Archie’s passport. The site offers a search function that determines the nearest designated passport agency. Besides most post offices, other facilities may include municipal buildings, clerks of court, and public libraries. We opted for our local post office, piled Archie and his countless travel accessories into our station wagon, and set out to witness effective government in action.

    Picking up the application proved to be quite easy, but we soon realized that like an Internet IPO, the good times would not last forever. The first sign of trouble was securing a suitable photo of Archie for his passport picture. I do not know a lot about the world of fashion, but I honestly believe that prospective Vogue cover shots are given less scrutiny than were those taken of Archie. We tried to follow the guidelines detailed on the Web site, but were frustrated early and often by the minute flaws that disqualified countless photos. More than four sets of photographs were rejected, and my wife and I were left in a state of amused frustration. First of all, propping up a two-month-old child on a stool and getting him to face a camera is no easy task; Beth and I thought Archie’s unyielding cooperation should alone merit acceptable photos, but again, the government saw otherwise. One set of headshots was rejected because there was not enough of Archie’s head in the picture. How could that be? I pondered. The boy is almost all head and no body! Another pair was rebuffed on the grounds that one of his ears was not entirely visible. The last and most amusing rejection was based on the darkened nature of the background screen. The reason for the dimmer background, I protested, was due to my crouched and cramped body, which had been positioned behind Archie to support him while he sat for another photo shoot. Keep trying, I was flatly told. Luckily for us, the obliging staff at the photo mat joined in our obsession of satisfying the requirements, and worked industriously to help us obtain sufficient headshots. At last, with the stars properly aligned, we captured our white whale. The accepted shots did not differ vastly from the previous ones, but the postal inspector sanctioned our most recent submissions, as we inched one step closer to getting Archie his passport.

    For future reference, you should know that standards for passport photos are generally not too demanding, except of course, when pertaining to an infant, and many of the regulations did not apply to Archie’s photos. For example, he does not wear a toupee, eyeglasses, or a hearing device, which the State Department compels people to wear for their photographs. Other photo conditions include the following:

    • Pictures need to be 2 inches x 2 inches and identical.
    • Photos must be taken within the last six months (not an issue for us, as Archie had only been on the earth for about 60 days) and show current appearance.
    • A frontal view of the full face is needed with white or off-white background.
    • The picture of the face must be between 1 inch and 1 3/8 inches from the bottom of the chin to the top of the head.
    • No hats or headgear that obscure the hair or hairline are allowed.
    • No uniforms are tolerated, with the exception of religious wear worn on a daily basis.
    • Color or black and white photos are acceptable.
    • Dark glasses and nonprescription tinted glasses are not permitted, unless for medical purposes, in which case a medical certificate may be required.

    After completing the back and forth with the post office and the photo mat, the process seemed to gain some momentum and the inanity was reduced, although not completely eliminated. With our officially authorized photos, we tackled the passport application, which we collected at the post office, and it was reasonably straightforward. The Web site claims that applications can be downloaded, an assertion I found to be slightly dubious. I had a difficult time completing the process, and while my wife possesses stronger computer skills, I am generally adept enough to handle a simple file download.

    With our completed application and pictures, our confidence was on the rise. We were fairly certain that Archie would be joining us on the trip, and we would not have to leave him at the kennel with our faithful dog Aggie. At this stage, the website again proved valuable as Beth and I learned what was needed to complete the process. Proof of citizenship for child and parent was a prerequisite for his obtaining a passport. To establish Archie’s citizenship, another visit to a government building was called for, so his mother set off for town hall to retrieve his birth certificate, which is the most logical document to use. Parents who cannot obtain, or do not have, a birth certificate for their children face further hurdles and additional forms that are detailed on the Web site. Beth and I were able to prove our own citizenship by providing one of the following documents: valid U.S. driver’s license, valid and official U.S. Military ID, valid U.S. government ID, valid U.S. or foreign passport with recognizable photo, alien resident card from the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS), or naturalization/citizenship certificate from INS with recognizable photo.

    We then had to present sufficient evidence that Archie was our child. Given the fact that today, kids can now be adopted on the Internet, I wholeheartedly support this measure. Again, this was uncomplicated for us since we are listed as his parents on Archie’s birth certificate; however, parents without a birth certificate, and custodians or guardians should again refer to the Web site or call the National Passport Information Center at 1-900-225-5674 ($0.55 per minute, per call) to locate other acceptable documents.

    Yet another step the government necessitates that I applaud is a consent form from both parents permitting the issuance of the child’s passport. I gather this is to prevent one spouse from leaving the country with the child/children without the support or knowledge of his/her partner. Obviously, this could be a valid concern when custody battles turn malicious. While I am fairly certain that neither Beth nor I is likely to grab Archie and join up with a band of Basque separatists, nonetheless, I appreciate this provision. If both parents are unable to appear together, there are other options available, including a consent form for the absent parent to sign.

    That’s about it for the initial application process. Beth and I are currently awaiting Archie’s passport, which we hope will take him to France, and other grand destinations throughout his life. Since Archie will be just shy of his four-month birthday when he arrives at Charles De Gaulle Airport, it is unlikely that he will remember his first international journey, but I know that his mother and I will never forget it.

    And by the way, I realize the last few paragraphs have exhibited some beneficial facets of the State Department, and our government in action, and I may have been too harsh in my earlier appraisal. I’d like to apologize to them for that ‘Dan Quayle’ crack, it was a low blow.

    Editor’s Note: You’ll be happy to learn that Archie did indeed receive his first passport, and is well on his way to becoming a world traveler. Of course, he’ll need to get new one once he grows some hair.

  • Scotland

    Scotland FlagAncient history melds with cutting-edge technology; long, rainy, or freezing winters contrast against vibrant, endless days of summer. Such are the complexities of Scotland, a land where the gloomy weather very often belies the sunny dispostion of her people.

    “Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, the hills of the Highlands for ever I love,” wrote Robert Burns, Scotland’s National Poet, and true enough, the Scottish Highlands have captured the hearts of many. This rugged land is defined by its jagged mountain peaks, verdant valleys, icy lochs, and imposing solitude. It’s a place meant for relflection and with all the solitary activities to take on in the Highlands, it’d be hard not to spend some quality time looking in at yourself. Fishing and hiking are two of the most popular pastimes. The rivers and lakes are filled with trout, and an afternoon of casting flies while waist deep in frigid water (with waders of course) is enough to have you heading to the pub come evening for a pint and a bite. There are marked hiking trails all over the highlands (the West Highland Way, for instance, will take you from Stirling all the way to the base of Ben Nevis–the tallest mountain in Britain–in the town of Fort William), but you don’t need a trail marker to give you permission: rights of way on private land for walkers is a tradition still followed in many parts of Britain. You shouldn’t have too much trouble tramping across a field here and there. Or for a little more social activity, grab your clubs and hit the links. Scotland is perhaps most famous for being the birthplace of golf; anybody can get a tee time at the Old Course in St. Andrews, but beware: their next opening may not be for many months.

    Scotland MapHead out to the west coast and have access to many of the western isles. Mull is a short ferry trip away from the coastal town of Oban and offers good walking trails and the quaintness of its fishing port Tobermory, without having to travel far from the mainland; others like Islay and Coll are more desolate, with walking trails, castles, distilleries to tour (and taste from), and picturesque scenery. The Isle of Skye, further north and connected to the mainland by a bridge, is larger and more diverse, with small towns like Portree offering a few shopping oportunities, and a dramatic landscape from the rocky Cuillins down to the sea. For even more peace and quiet, make your way to the Outer Hebrides where island names like Harris and Lewis represent the superlative in stark beauty: mountains, moors, beaches, and more, and very few people to distract you. Or head to the far north to the Orkney or Shetland Islands, both known for their prehistoric artifacts (such as Skara Brae on Mainland Island) and diverse bird life. The Shetland Islands were, until 1469, under Norse rule, and the Scandinavian heritage still runs strong there. It is perhaps the most remote region of Scotland from that point of view.

    Scotland LandscapeBut Scotland isn’t just for escaping. The cities have lots to offer as well. Edinburgh is a thriving metropolis, banking and academic center, and home to the Royal seat in Scotland–the Palace of Holyroodhouse. There are a number of notable museums, such as the Scottish National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery of Scotland, as well as unique and beautiful parks like Calton Hill (home to a number of Scottish monuments), Arthur’s Seat at Holyrood Park, Edinburgh Castle, and the Royal Botanic Garden. Take a stroll down the Royal Mile or through New Town and you’ll find pubs, shops, restaurants, and accomodations that will suit your mood. Glascow is a very different kind of city. This one-time shipbuilding capitol has weathered the storms of recession and come out the other side with a fresh, new perspective. Glascow is known for its art, design, and architecture. It’s a decidely more modern city than Edinburgh, and as such, it attracts a great deal of younger people. Make your way to Sauchiehall Street for all of your shopping, eating, and drinking needs; but don’t miss the history that Glascow has to offer too. In the eastern part of the city you’ll find the gothic Glasgow Cathedral, St. Mungo’s Museum of Religious Life and Art, and Provand’s Lordship (built in the 15th century, it’s the oldest house in Glascow). Another interesting attraction is the Tenement House museum–offering a window into middle-class life around the turn of the 20th century.

    Traveling in Scotland
    Traveling in Scotland is typically less expensive than in England (and certainly less than London). The cities are costlier than the countryside, but rates will rise significantly in the Highlands and Islands due to their inaccessibility. Scotland has its own currency, but the pound stirling is accepted everywhere (just as the Scottish pound is generally accepted in England). Accessing funds in Scotland shouldn’t be a problem as traveler’s checks and credit cards are widely excepted, and ATMs are abundant.

    The summer is when most people visit Scotland. Summer days are very long and, on the whole, drier than winter days. Also there are a number of festivals and attractions in the summertime, such as the Edinburgh Festival and Fringe Festival in August and September (a word of warning: accomodations in the city and neighboring areas are booked often a year in advance of these festivals; if you want to go to Edinburgh during this time, you have to plan early). But winter has a lot to offer as well. Skiing is fast becoming a major sport in the Highlands, and other outdoor adventure sports, like ice climbing, are popular. The New Year (or “Hogamanay”) ushers in a seriously fun celebration that can turn the biggest city or the smallest town into a chaotic mass of revelers.

    Weather in Scotland
    Weather in Scotland can be very grim–it’s true–but the bright side is, it’s beautiful in the rain, and even more beautiful in the sun. The dampness can feel everpresent and farther north, rain turns to snow in the winter. The worst time to visit Scotland, weatherwise, is definitely in the winter. The sun barely comes up (don’t be fooled by the relative warmth provided by the Gulf Stream; Scotland is very near the Arctic circle), and the clouds linger and drip. The best times are between April and September–the weather is warmer and drier then, and most commercial operations are open…and in the north, in the summer, the sun barely goes down.

    Scotland Information
    Population: 5.1 million
    Government: Parliamentary Democracy
    Square Miles: 30,414 (78,772 sq km)
    Capitol: Edinburgh (pop 408,000)
    Official Languages: English, Gaelic
    People: Celts, Anglo-Saxons
    Religion: Presbyterian Church of Scotland, other Presbyterian churches, Anglicans, Catholics
    Major products/industries: Banking and finance, steel, transport equipment, oil and gas, whisky, tourism

  • South Africa

    South Africian FlagAs apartheid and all that it represents becomes a thing of the past in South Africa, much of the country is moving forward with rejuvenated ideas, interests, and fair politics. And tourists are flocking back to South Africa in droves. Many of the dangers of traveling to this country have gone by the wayside: political violence is down, and with certain notable exceptions, touring the country is safer and more pleasurable than it was for much of the second half to the twentieth century.

    Traveling in South Africa
    South Africian Map For the uninitiated in Africa, South Africa is a pretty good place to get your feet wet. As the government organizes in the post-apartheid environment, infrastructure improvements and ease of travel have taken great strides forward. The climate is generally mild and–with many national parks and eco-safaris available–South Africa is a fantastic place to view wildlife. However, there’s a lot about this country that still smacks of the Dark Ages: poverty continues to exist in its rawest form, AIDS has overrun the population, and random violence remains a problem. As always, it’s best to use common sense when it comes to traveling safely, but be sure to take an extra measure of precaution in crowded public places such as train and bus stations, shopping bazaars, major cities, etc. Keep your money out of sight and in a place where it’s not easily accessible to pick-pockets, be wary of potentially dangerous situations, and go to South Africa with the understanding that it continues to be a society in flux.

    Weather in South Africa
    Summer can be quite hot, particularly in the lowveld (coastal plain). High-altitude areas are pleasantly warm over summer, but the mountains are prone to rain. The northeastern regions can be humid, but swimming on the east coast is a year-round activity. Springtime is the best time for wildflowers in the northern and western Cape provinces. Winters are mild everywhere except in the highest country, where there are frosts and occasional snowfalls.

    Mid-December to late January is vacation time for South African city dwellers. Resorts and national parks are heavily booked and prices on the coast can more than double during these months. School holidays in April, July, and September can also add congestion to beaches and national parks.

    Visas for South Africa
    Entry permits are issued free on arrival to visitors on holiday from many Commonwealth and most Western European countries, as well as Japan and the United States. If you aren’t entitled to an entry permit, you’ll need to get a visa (also free) before you arrive.

    Health Concerns in South Africa
    Malaria is mainly confined to the eastern half of South Africa, especially on the lowveld. Bilharzia is also found mainly in the east but outbreaks do occur in other places, so you should always check with knowledgeable local people before drinking water or swimming in it. AIDS is a major problem throughout Africa, and South Africa is no exception, with upward of 20% of the total population infected. While it is common knowledge to much of the Western world that HIV can only be transmitted through sexual contact, shared intravenous needles, or blood transfusions, in South Africa, only recently have efforts gone underway to educate the people. It’s always a good idea to be aware of such pandemics as you enter a country, for reasons of protecting yourself, as well as gaining a better understanding of the culture and environment.

    Cash in South Africa
    It’s very possible to spend just US$10 per day, if you’re willing to camp or stay in hostels. Arranging public transport can make this number considerably higher, and some of the more daring souls choose hitch-hiking, in favor of bussing, flying, or taking the train.

    If you’d rather have the privacy of a solo hotel room, eat in restaurants, and tour the country by bus or train, expect to spend roughly US$40-60 per day.

    Tipping is expected because of low wages. Roughly 10%-15% is the norm.

    South Africa Information
    Africa MapPopulation: 43.1 million
    Government: Republic and independent member of the British Commonwealth
    Square Miles: 1,221,037 sq km
    Capitols: Pretoria (administrative), Bloemfontein (judicial), and Cape Town (legislative)
    Languages: Zulu, Xhosa, Afrikaans, Pedi, English, Tswana, Sotho, Tsonga, Swati, Venda, Ndebele
    People: 77% black, 10% white (60% of whites are of Afrikaner descent, most of the rest are of British descent), 8% mixed race, 2.5% of Indian or Asian descent
    Religion: Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and traditional religions
    Major products/industries: Mining, finance, insurance, food processing

  • Solomon Time: Village Life in the Solomon Islands

    Bird’s-eye view of the Solomon IslandsWhen I tell folks that I am conducting my graduate research in the Solomon Islands, the most common response is “Where on earth are they?” It’s because of this reaction that I am honored to have the opportunity to share with readers some my experiences living in this relatively unknown, but culturally and environmentally rich island nation.The Solomons comprise a scattered double chain of islands that extends in a southeasterly direction from Papua New Guinea. The third largest archipelago in the South Pacific, the Solomons consist of over 900 islands, and encompass over 1.35 million square kilometers of sea. The islands are covered with dense rain forest and are surrounded by narrow fringes of coral reefs, lagoons, and mangrove swamps, which are among the most biologically diverse in the world.Common to many ecologically rich and economically poor tropical countries, the Solomon Islands are experiencing a number of critical environmental problems. Rapid population growth, recent civil tension, and the nation’s dismal economic status are identified as the driving forces behind a degradation of the environment, from both human use and conservationist perspectives.The population of the Solomon Islands is growing faster than any other Pacific Island nation and is expected to double over the next roughly 20 years, undoubtedly placing increased stress on the ability of the rural areas to support a subsistence lifestyle, while maintaining ecological integrity. Along with a high population growth, the country has other development issues, including high illiteracy rate, health issues, and more.

    In addition, since 1999, civil society in the Solomon Islands has been interrupted by the outbreak of ethnic tensions, particularly in the Guadalcanal Province and the capital city Honiara, fueled by an unstable government, a weak economy, and the influence of a number of armed “warlords.” As a result, there has been a collapse of transport and communication. Many of the major European-backed companies and expatriates (who held higher-level jobs), as well as Peace Corps volunteers, have left the country. In addition, many native Solomon Islanders have fled the capital city and returned to their home provinces, where work to support a family can be scarce.

    The Solomon Islands government has a history of promoting large-scale natural resource extraction (timber, fisheries, and most recently the development of gold reserves), and has recently engaged in a number of short-sighted and environmentally harmful activities, including massive commercial logging, the lifting of the ban on the live reef fish trade, and offering access to the country’s tuna grounds to foreign fishing fleets at extremely low rates.

    Author’s house in Baraulu, Solomon IslandsBut despite these negatives, the region of the Solomon Islands remains a remote and magical place to visit. The combination of the islands’ relative inaccessibility (i.e., inconvenient air transportation routes), expensive airfares, and lack of tourism infrastructure, results in a small tourism industry. The bit of tourism that does exist consists largely of small groups of avid scuba divers, birders, or adventurer honeymooners, primarily from New Zealand and Australia. This means the islands have not yet experienced the ills associated with massive tourism development, as so many other Pacific island nations have, and for that reason they are a lovely place to visit. There are no major hotels, no swim-up pool bars, no umbrellas in fruity drinks. Instead, ecotourists stay in scattered thatched lodges on several remote islands where “Sol Brew” (the national beer) is the choice drink and the locals lifestyle is omnipresent.

    However, even this small tourism industry has a large effect on the local and national economies; the economic strain created by U.S. and Australian advisories against travel to the Solomon Islands–implemented due to political and social unrest–can be felt. The national airline, Solomon Airlines, depends entirely on Quantas and Pacific Airlines planes for international service, and thus can only use the planes when the other airlines allow. The country is now having difficulty paying for those planes, as well as keeping intra-island Solomon Airlines service afloat (the intra-island fleet is down to one or two planes from six). Many lodges have closed or are in extreme disrepair: in my first year, the Agnes Lodge had two huge leaks in the thatch roof over the outside patio; one had to complete an “obstacle course” to stay dry when it rained–and it rains a lot.

    I’ve traveled to the Solomon Islands twice over the past two years to conduct research for a graduate degree–I hope to go back again. Although I am nervous each time I land in the Solomons, thinking about the “what ifs,” I have yet to encounter any serious problems. That’s not to say the Solomon Islands are an easy place to be a tourist (they are not, and many of the Westerners who travel there do so for very specific reasons), but the civil tension that exists between islands groups is not generally targeted toward foreign travelers. Solomoners are actually quite fond of Americans–feelings that stem from the U.S. presence in the area during World War II when, according to Solomoners, GI’s were like kings and for the first time they saw whites and blacks work and pray together. These are experiences far removed from what they encountered during the Japanese occupation and from the longtime British colonizers.

    One of the greatest cultural differences I found is that Solomon Islanders are kind and helpful beyond what we Americans would typically offer to strangers. On one occasion, I landed at the airport near Honiara at 2:30 A.M., on a flight from Brisbane, Australia. The airport shuts down during long spells between airplane arrivals and departures, and I thought it was going to be a struggle finding transport to Honiara, to spend the night at the one hotel at which I feel safest. Instead, the airport officials kindly offered the security room for me to sleep. Then, a friend of a friend of a friend’s brother, who was in the crowd at the airport, invited me to stay with his family. His wife then drove me back to the airport for my 6 A.M. departure to Munda, and insisted on giving me gifts as thanks for my staying in their home. That’s Solomon generosity for you. You wouldn’t get an experience like that at Grand Central Station! (And if you did, I’d advise you to hop in the nearest cab and get a hotel room.)

    Before arriving in the Solomon Islands, one must understand the islanders’ idea of schedules: the country operates on “Solomon time.” Although time and schedules work differently in many developing countries, Solomon time is somehow unique. Perhaps this is because–unlike in other parts of the world, where a single delay can cause an entire outing to run amuck–in the Solomons, everything tends to work itself out, only several hours later than originally planned.

    Solomon time affects every dimension of life, from the national operation of airports and ministry offices, to going fishing with villagers. In many of the villages, there are few watches and calendars, and no phones, TVs, or clock radios. Village activities are dictated by the tides, the weather, the sun, and personal motivation. For example, I noticed that our village bell ringer occasionally rang the morning wake-up bell one or two hours late. The Sunday morning church service can start any time between noon and two. The five-seat airplane from Munda to Honiara can be on time, three hours late, or not come at all, with no explanation and few passengers expressing concern (except for nonislanders, of course). Instead, everyone just nods in agreement and says “It’s Solomon time.” The chewing of betel nut and tok tok are also a way of life and help contribute to this phenomenon. As a tourist, you must plan plenty of leeway when traveling.

    Ferry stop in Roviana LagoonMost of my time was spent in the Western Province, an area that supports the country’s two most impressive barrier reef-lagoon systems, including the largest lagoon in world–the proposed UNESCO World Heritage Site, Marovo Lagoon. This area claims some of the best diving (often in World War II-era wrecks) and birding, as well as some of the best infrastructure to support tourism in the Solomons.

    Unless you are with a group and have chartered the dive boat, the Belikiki, in Honiara, or you travel by yacht, your choice of transportation in the country will be by ferry or plane. There are trade-offs: the plane, no doubt, is quicker (about 40 minutes to Seghe, to stop at the Marovo Lagoon; 1 hour to Munda to check out the Roviana Lagoon; and 1-1/2 hours to Gizo), but you are flying, and that alone can be cause for some concern. On my latest arrival to the Solomons, I was nervous about the stories regarding the lack of spare parts for planes so I decided to act more like a local and opted for the ferry, which costs about one-third the price and is safer, if not more convenient. The ferry to Munda was long–it left three hours late from Honiara for no apparent reason and took about 22 hours on the water. Fortunately for me, the ocean was not too rough and I had a cabin. The cabin was Solomon-style, meaning it had no windows or curtains, so anyone could poke their head in, and there was no lock on the door, it was littered with cockroaches, and did not have a toilet. However, the greatest shock came upon arriving at Munda and realizing the disembarkment area was right in the middle of the open lagoon–there was no dock! I learned a lesson, that I’ll pass on to you: if you opt for the ferry and you want to get off at Munda, make sure you’ve either arranged for someone to pick you up in their boat, or ask for a ride from someone on the ferry ahead of time. While it wasn’t a tremendous setback (I did make it ashore), I have flown every time since.

    Munda MarketAlthough Munda is the third largest city and supports a number of public services (such as, a bank, airport, hospital, etc.), don’t expect a buzzing metropolis. I’m told that in the days before the civil unrest, Munda was a happening, well-kept place. This is no longer the case. While Honiara and Gizo are more like frontier towns (one dusty street lined with a few stores), Munda can be equated to a large village. The town itself is dusty, a bit sleepy, with lots of people ambling about or just sitting and chewing betel nut. There isn’t a lot to do aside from stocking up on market items that can’t be bought in the villages, and you can walk the perimeter of the town in about five minutes.

    Situated on the lagoon at the end of town, however, is the Agnes Lodge–the center of Munda activity and a haven for tourists. This is great spot to take a break from the heat and organize your belongings before or after a flight. The food is quite good and there’s a nice patio (when it’s not raining) for drinks and relaxing. Every other Friday, the lodge hosts “barbeque night” (mainly for tourists), which is followed by “dance night” (where everyone is welcome); this will allow you to experience the only form of night life within a 200 mile radius–drunken Solomon Islanders, dancing to “Who Let the Dogs Out?” and, if you’re lucky, a brawl.

    I’d also recommend going to the lodge on the island of Lola, about a 20-minute canoe ride from Munda and situated in the VonaVona Lagoon. This lodge has been hit by hard times, so don’t expect the royal treatment; however, the island is peaceful and offers scuba and fishing trips, as well as cooked food and a nicely tended bar.

    One of the most striking features of the country is the large number of small villages, where over 75 percent of the population lives. I had the opportunity to live in the village of Baraulu, which is situated on a barrier island in the Roviana Lagoon, in the Western Province, about 30 miles from Munda. Like most villages, it’s predominantly subsistence-based (meaning, villagers catch all seafood and grow all crops), does not have electricity, the drinking water is collected from rain, and the water for washing is piped from the mainland via a submerged pipe that gets clogged with leaves washed down from the mainland bush every time it rains.

    Last year, the fresh water pipe burst, which meant four days of no water and a three-day effort by the men of the village to raise the pipe from along the lagoon bottom and find and repair the leak. It’s times like that, their lifestyle truly amazes me. The pipe is laid across the lagoon floor. The villagers must first find the broken section of the pipe, then pull it up to repair the leak. This is done entirely by manpower–no machines–diving, heaving, and maneuvering 50 or so paddle canoe boats and two engines boats in the blistering sun all for the luxury of having extra water to wash with.

    Roviana LagoonThe villagers depend largely on seafood for their diet. Every household has at least one garden, most having three (one in Baraulu, one on the mainland, and one on the nearby island of Reregana), with every individual over the age of 18 having rights to a plot. The garden is very important for providing the staple crops (potato, cassava, taro, or yam), and while villagers are not overly concerned with food availability, most do feel that they have less food after the harvest of the potato (every three months). In addition to the potato, rice is another staple. The most commonly eaten vegetables are slippery cabbage and snake beans, and some villagers grow cucumbers and cherry tomatoes. Surprisingly, though, the most preferred meal is rice, canned tuna, and ramen noodles. (I would often trade canned tuna for freshly caught.) Several households own chickens, though they are not cooped so eggs are rare. And a couple of households own pigs, which are slaughtered on very special occasions.

    My favorite Solomon foods include any fish cooked bonboni (over hot rocks), riki or deo (the most important subsistence shellfish) cooked in coconut milk, and fire-cooked coconut crab (which actually eats coconuts and lives in palm trees). Only certain men have the talent to catch the coconut crab. First, they locate the crab by searching for tracks next to the bases of palm trees; then they entice it out of the branches, bribing it with pieces of coconut.

    House Kitchen Unlike Westerners, food is merely a necessity for Solomon Islanders. The attitude toward food is “If we have it, we’ll eat it.” Most households eat two to three meals a day, usually including a big breakfast and dinner. Most kitchens lack finished floors, and consist of a fire pit, a bench, and a small table. At night, the kitchens are extremely smoky and dark.

    As a visitor, I had the distinction of being invited to special feasts [such as, after Sunday church, for the blessing of a newly built house, or in honor of a child’s first birthday (because of the high infant mortality rate, the first birthday is traditionally the only one celebrated)], during which time I have been asked to sit among the elders of the village. Exactly what this means depends upon the setting, but in general special guests are offered seats, while others sit on the floor; or they will sit in the main part of the house, while others sit outside. Also, those being honored are typically served before everyone else by women and girls from the village. These celebratory meals are elaborate, and massive amounts of food are prepared. Such meals might consist of potatoes, rice, noodles, corned beef, tinned tuna, stewed chicken, barbequed fish, and sometimes barbequed pork, with doughnuts for dessert (not a “heart smart” menu, to be sure). At the end of the meal, the elders and guests speak some words of appreciation and we ritually clap after each speech.

    Day in and day out, the village is full of laughter and chatting, chewing of betel nut and smoking tobacco, but it’s most romantic at night when there’s calm in the air, the stars shine bright, and there are no artificial lights to drown the detail of the night sky. The stars are amazing–the Southern Cross, in particular–as there are no bright cities for hundreds of miles. People visit each other, sit on porch stoops and in kitchens, and tell stories. Everyone has red teeth from the betel, and I am still amazed at how they can talk and talk for hours. One house in Baraulu owned a generator, with a TV and a VCR. Until last year, they’d show monthly dime-store action movies; then a family member took the VCR to Honiara, where he went to work… Now it’s back to story telling.

    Solomon Islander from BarauluAs a westerner, it was difficult at first to not pass judgment on the community and their way of life. Although most want money, and some are clearing the mainland to grow endless plots of teak, Solomon Islanders generally are content with their life and they prefer living in the village to life in the city. A household typically consists of extended kin, and can range in size from 4 to 30 consisting of one to five separate nuclear families. Everyone in the Solomons is “related” to one another; that is, everyone calls each other “my cousin.” For example, if I am walking with Selina and we run into Ole, who is really her mother’s sister-in-law’s mother’s cousin, Selina will refer to Ole as her cousin. And because they are related, if Ole has betel nut, tobacco, or has money and is drinking beer, Selina will be able to have some of Ole’s betel nut, tobacco, or beer. Family ties…

    During the recent civil unrest, many Solomoners moved back to the villages where they could live off the land. Baraulu, like all villages in the Solomon Islands, is caught between two fundamental economic states: a subsistence economy and a market economy. The villagers are not completely subsistence-based–they need money for kerosene, rice, school (tuition, uniforms, paper, and pencils), laundry soap, and more. Many households survive in Baraulu because of “remittances” (or payments) from relatives with wage labor in Honiara, Fiji, or Australia.

    Schoolhouse in the Solomon IslandsI am most concerned about the next generation of Solomon Islanders because of their lack of education. Many argue that this is a Western ideal and that our formalized education has facilitated the breakdown of many traditional social institutions and a loss of community. I agree that children must be taught about their own environment in order to maintain the social legacy, but further avenues of education are important as the Solomon Islanders become more entrenched in the global economy. The children face many obstacles to achieving an adequate education. For instance, many of the teachers lack the proper learning, themselves, to teach others. (Prior to the recent instability, many schools had Peace Corp volunteers who have now gone elsewhere.) Also, the schools lack supplies: teachers are not given paper, chalk, or textbooks; homework is handed out on paper cards, which have been used for years and have the answers scribbled on them. The country charges a fee for tuition, but many households simply don’t have the money and so are not able to send their children beyond primary school. In addition, the secondary school system is composed of a number of understaffed boarding schools that will only admit a small group of students per year. Thus, the students must each take an entrance exam, which most are unlikely to pass. Beyond this, the government lacks the resources to pay teachers sufficiently and regularly, and the system of payment is odd as the teachers have to travel a great distance to pick up their paycheck in town every second Friday, which means the schools must close on that day so teachers can get paid, and sometimes their checks aren’t even there.

    Munda village storeBut for all of the economic disorder in the Solomon Islands, there are forces that help institute order and organization. One of these is the church. At the turn of the twentieth century, missionaries arrived in droves at the Solomon Islands. In Roviana Lagoon, the charismatic leader Reverend J.F. Goldie rapidly built a Methodist congregation. The Seventh-Day Adventist Church soon followed, though their foothold grew stronger near the Marovo Lagoon.

    The late 1950s saw a breakaway movement from the Methodist Church and the formation of a third denomination–the fiercely independent, communally based, and highly syncretistic Christian Fellowship Church (CFC)–founded and led by the prophetic Silas Eto [known as the “Holy Mama” (mama, in New Georgian languages, is an affectionate term for “father”)]. The church formally broke with the Methodists in the 1960s, and now nearly 100 percent of the Roviana Lagoon belongs to the CFC religion. The church has become a powerful force in western Solomon’s economy and politics, and its leaders are involved in shrewd, profitable, and often legally suspect business ventures.

    Children in the Solomon IslandsThe CFC religion dominates village life in an odd, yet beautiful manner. Imagine, it’s before dawn on a Sunday morning and you’re asleep on a mat under a mosquito net in your thatched house. You awake to singing–children’s voices and sticks drumming against the ground–and you go outside to hear. The stars shine bright in an otherwise black, velvety sky, and you notice the flickering light from kerosene lamps in the houses across the central village field. You look at your watch and decide that 4:30 A.M. is too early to rise, so you go back to bed and fall in and out of sleep until the voices start getting closer. Then you wrap a sarong around your legs and go to the porch to sit and wait. The choir marches around the village field, past your house. The children are now accompanied by women and men–all of them dressed in their finest white church clothes, carrying red, white, and blue banners and flags, and they march and sing as they pass, while houses full of people clap their hands ritually (much like after the speeches I described in Part 1), which, for the CFC congregation, is equivalent to a Christian saying “amen.”

    In fact, every day starts with singing like this, but generally later and up at the school. The voices can always be heard like a blanket over the village. This distinctive “parade” occurs only on Sunday mornings, and Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday evenings at dusk. The clapping, however, happens all the time–at the start and end of a journey (e.g., when one boards and disembarks a boat, which is as constant as getting in and out of a car in our society), before and after a meal, when the village bell rings, to introduce a visitor to an area, a hundred or so times during the four hours of Sunday church services, and so on. The sound of hands clapping becomes pervasive and over time it offers great comfort–like a companion, a constant in island life that leaves a harsh void in its absence.

    Traditional islanders’ danceThe structure of the CFC is interesting–almost ironic considering where I was and where I came from. During World War II, the Holy Mama was greatly impressed with the American army, which subsequently influenced the rituals of his religion. During a church service, the congregation marches, flags wave, and members salute one another. Also, the church insists that all villages are modeled after military bases, with one central public area, surrounded by village residences; and all the houses are built beside one another in an orderly fashion.

    Traditional islanders’ danceWhen the Holy Mama died, he was succeeded by his son, known as the “Spiritual Authority.” The equivalent of the Holy Trinity, for followers of the CFC, is the Father, Son, the Holy Mama, and the Spiritual Authority. Situated around the village are “presence sensors” for the Spiritual Authority; these are rods or wires that are said to move when the Spiritual Authority is near, and while I was raised to believe such mysticism is a hoax, I have witnessed them in action: one day the Spiritual Authority came to visit my village (chewing on betel nut, his gold chains and Rolex drawing attention to his many business “conquests”) and the wire started waving like mad. I can offer no reasonable explanation for it.

    Still, as amusing or incredulous as many of the religious rituals and beliefs are, and as corrupt as the church might be in its business practices, the CFC does have a positive influence on the community–it brings structure, solidarity, and services to the villages, where the government alone cannot. For example, the villagers participate in church-sponsored community workdays once or twice a week, during which they repair the school house, clear community forest land, plant teak in the community forest, fix the water line, help buildRoofing a House houses, and more. Plus, per CFC dictum, no one works on Sunday. The church is the center of community festivals and it prohibits drinking (Solomon Islanders typically love to drink, are bad drinkers, and will drink until all their money is gone). And these are just a few of the plusses of the CFC’s influence on Solomon communities.

    But for me, all of these positives are reinforced by one more thing: I would never interfere with the CFC religion, for I believe that constant sound of clapping represents a strong and vital community–unified, it keeps me safe during my journeys throughout this troubled jewel of the South Pacific.

  • Canada

    Canada FlagJust because Canada borders the U.S. doesn’t mean it is like the U.S. The eastern parts of Canada, such as Quebec and Ontario, are modern and sophisticated; while the west and north are still somewhat wild, and often seem untouched compared to the United States and Europe.

    Canada’s population is an amalgam of indigenous people; descendent’s of French and British colonists who came to explore, trap, fish, and more; and in the west, a fast growing population of Asian émigrés. And with the vast majority of the country’s population residing near the southern border, there is a huge amount of land to the north that remains almost uninhabited.

    Traveling in Canada
    Canada MapCanada has a little bit of everything, from thriving metropolises (such as, Montreal, Toronto, and Vancouver) to the wild open territories of the northern provinces. The major cities range from being centers of culture, trade, and population, to gateways to the outdoors, cultural melting pots, immigration centers, and more.

    The land in central and northern Canada is perfect for adventure travel like skiing, fishing, camping, hiking, rafting, rock and ice climbing, hunting, and more, as well as for the mining and logging industries that have set up camp there.

    In the past decade, the native population of Canada has gained a much stronger voice in Parliament, which has led to growth in the regions they control; but don’t let that fool you: outside of the cities, the population is spare and the wilderness is open. Canada’s national park system is extensive, and park rules, in many ways, favor the wildlife over human visitors (for example, protection from bears, in many parks, is limited to using common sense when camping–even items like bear spray are discouraged or illegal, and guns for protection are strictly forbidden).

    Weather in Canada
    Spring, summer, autumn, and winter are all ideal for tourism in much of Canada, but keep in mind that the cold weather comes early and leaves late in the northern and noncoastal areas. Skiing is great, especially in the Canadian Rockies, and the season lasts from December through April. If you want to camp, hike, river raft, or enjoy other water activities on Canada’s lakes and rivers, the best time is the summer because in the shoulder seasons certain facilities could be closed.

    For very adventurous travel (for example, to the Arctic interior), we’d suggest either going with friends who know the area well and have experience in all types of extreme environments, or signing on with a professionally guided trip, with whom you’ll hopefully meet interesting people and get the most well-rounded experience available. But bear in mind that guiding companies often sell trips months or even years in advance–sign up early and plan a lot, and you’ll certainly have a great time.

    Canada Information
    North / Central AmericaPopulation: 31,280,000
    Government: Parliamentary democracy
    Square Miles: 3.9 million sq mi (9,976,000 sq km)
    Capitol: Ottawa (pop: 1,010,500)
    Official Language: English, French, and native languages
    People: British descent (28%), French descent (23%), Italian descent (3%), aboriginal peoples (2%)
    Religion: Catholic (45%), Protestant (36%), and minorities from most of the world’s major religions
    Major products/industries: processed and unprocessed minerals, food products, wood and paper products, transportation equipment, chemicals, fish products, petroleum and natural gas
    Health risks: Cholera, dengue fever, hepatitis, malaria, yellow fever

  • St. Lucia

    St. Lucia FlagSt. Lucia, which is one of the bigger islands in the Windward Island chain of the lower Caribbean, has done what most of the Caribbean islands have done after the tapering off of their once rich agriculture and exports industries: turned itself over to tourism. After the sugar industry collasped the islands of the Caribbean struggled to get by until airplane travel made visiting these once remote outposts just a few flight connections away. There are still some old fishing villages mixed in among the resorts and charter sailboat operations, but the main industry now is tourism and service.

    That doesn’t mean that St. Lucia–with its high volcanic mountains–isn’t still a beautiful island. It has not yet been ruined by overdevelopment, and you continue get the special feel of its laid-back, if rugged, environment once you leave the craziness of Castries, the capital. There is plenty to see in St. Lucia, from towering peaks called the Pitons, to its wonderful coastline with so many picturesque beaches. This island has much to offer as long as the resort developers keep their distance.

    Traveling in St. Lucia
    St. Lucia MapGetting around St. Lucia is easy, unless you’re not used to driving on the left-hand side of the road: because it’s a member of the British Commonwealth, British traffic rules apply.

    Flying in and out of St. Lucia is a little more complicated. The small island has two airports, the older Vigie Airport in the north, near the capital, and the newer Hewanorra International Airport in the south, near the town of Vieux Fort. If you are flying in, it may be a good idea to choose the airport in relation to where you’ll be staying.

    Health Risks in St. Lucia
    Besides a poisonous viper (called the fer-de-lance) that inhabits the island, the only major health risk is Bilharzia (schistosomiasis), an infection caused when you come in contact with contaminated water. This happens mainly in fresh water ponds, lakes, and rivers. You can avoid this by swimming in protected (chlorinated) swimming pools or the salt water ocean–which is, of course, why many people come to St. Lucia. For more information, contact your doctor or read about Bilharzia at about.com.

    Weather in St. Lucia
    Because of its location, the weather in St. Lucia is almost always warm. The average high temperature throughout the year is right around 80°F. The rainiest time of year is between June and December.

    St. Lucia Information
    Population: 156,260
    Government: Independent republic within the British Commonwealth
    Square Miles: 240 sq mi (616 sq km)
    Capitol: Castries (pop 50,000)
    Official Languages: English and French-based patois
    People: African (90%), mixed descent (6%), European and East Indian (4%)
    Religion: Roman Catholic (90%), Protestant (7%), Anglican (3%)
    Major products/industries: Bananas, coconuts, cocoa, assembly of electronic components, clothing, tourism