A trip through the shadows of the City of Light

By Anthony Cuthbertson

The surface of Paris resembles that of an iceberg peaking its tip above the surface of the water. Beneath, there lies one of the most extensive and complex underground networks in the world. Alongside almost 300 metro stations and their interlinking tunnels weave a web of sewers, abandoned quarries, catacombs, canals and utility lines. The denser the population has become above ground, the deeper they have burrowed to sustain it. Without this vast infrastructure the city would cease to function, utterly paralyzed.

Since moving to Paris I had come close to exhausting every tourist trail and “gem” that the guidebooks had to offer. So one weekend I decided to heed the advice of some locals that I had met, who suggested that I took a look at the other side of Paris. They advised that I take a “troglodyte tour” of their city, to explore the often overlooked underbelly of Paris.

But where to start? Almost 150 miles of underground train track knit between at least 185 miles of catacomb tunnels and over 1300 miles of sewers, all right under the center of the city. That infernal underground maze, as Gaston Leroux calls it in Phantom of the Opera, stretches down as deep as 112 feet in places, ten stories below the surface. It is the result of 800 years of digging. The buildings, bridges and monuments that now sit on the surface are built from the limestone and gypsum that was excavated from the quarries and tunnels below. (more…)

When asked why they choose to leave their native soil, I’ve heard plenty of ex-patriots answer with tales of youthful days spent eagerly turning the pages of a National Geographic and dreaming. My own youthfully intrepid mind used to consistently conjure up vivid images standing on a boat’s bow peering out into an infinite sea. (My interest in National Geographic set in with puberty.)

I doubt many children dream of traveling to far off places to struggle with alcoholism, sex-addiction and depression. When asked the question, “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”, not many twelve-year-olds answer, “Someplace seedy where I can pay for sex, get cheap drugs and have no one judge me!”

In expatriate filmmaker Edward Longmire’s debut documentary, Alive and Well in Prague, these are the circumstances his camera captured as he follows four expatriates living in Prague.

The Prague Post felt the film “paints a bleak portrait of an alternately beer-soaked, smut-infused and financially grim existence for Western transplants in Prague,” and  “whether this is true of all ex-pats, it is certainly true of the four souls Longmire profiled.”

Longmire’s four subjects include Stefan, an American pornographer, Francis an alcoholic English teacher, Todd an aspiring actor facing failure, and Ruth, an English teacher who stays in Prague because she “hates it less than everywhere else.” (more…)

Who says safaris are only for Africa? At the other end of the spectrum — and pole — on an Arctic safari, you can catch glimpses of seals, walruses, and, if you’re lucky, polar bears.

By Barnaby Davies

Nobody spoke. At 80 degrees North, the 25-year-old hull creaked in the ice. Camera shutters whirred while expedition staff and passengers stared spellbound. A gargantuan male polar bear stood, flat-footed, only a few feet beneath us on the Norwegian pack ice. Had I leaned just a little further over the ship’s rail, we could have shaken hands. Or rather, I could have lost my video camera and the arm holding it.

It was mid-August. I was aboard the Professor Molchanov on a ten-day trek around Spitsbergen, Norway. The ex-research vessel, crewed by Russians, was my new home away from home. Built for the Hydrometeorology Institute in Murmansk, Russia, it measures a shade over 233 feet long. Ice-strengthened, she was built for Arctic northern conditions.

The remote Norwegian archipelago Svalbard, meaning “Cold Coast,” is home to the world’s most northerly town, Ny Alesund. If you hanker for northern adventures, this is as good as it gets. Here, at the 79th parallel, you are faced with superlatives at every turn: the world’s most northerly post office, earth’s northernmost historical train, the world’s most northerly “tagged” fox family . . . I could go on.

Svalbard’s main island is Spitsbergen, meaning “Pointed Mountains,” and provides the only international airport. On arrival my plane descended around midnight through the low cloud cover into a fairytale setting. Jagged peaks were draped in snow blankets, and the midnight sun pierced through, turning the fjord an apricot hue. From early April to mid-September there is no night here, and from April 19 to August 23, the sun won’t even touch the horizon. The capital settlement of Longyearbyen, housing approximately 1,800 people, is named after John Longyear, one of the Arctic Coal Company’s founders from 1906. (more…)

If you stick around Istanbul long enough you’re likely going to run into a Whirling Dervishes performance. But if you want to see the real thing you have to head to Konya, where it all began.

By Inka Piegsa-Quischotte

I have to admit that until I visited the festival in Konya, Turkey, I didn’t have a very clear idea as to what the whirling dervishes were all about. Everybody who has visited Turkey has seen images of guys in white skirts and black conic hats, arms outstretched whirling around their own axis. Although I didn’t think of them as some drug-crazed mystics who danced themselves into ecstasy and oblivion, I thought more along the lines of folkloristic dance. Both assumptions were totally wrong.

It was winter in Turkey — December to be precise — and cold and miserable, so I willingly followed the suggestion of my Turkish friend who suggested I travel from Didim to Konya and experience what he described as, quote: “a unique opportunity to learn about the Sufi philosophy and the significance of the dance at the site where it all originated.” That’s how he put it in his usual rather flowery way of describing things. But then, the man is a poet, so he must be forgiven.

The festival is celebrated each year from December 10 – 17. Konya does have an airport, but given the huge amount of pilgrims and visitors who descend upon the town for the occasion, no flights were to be had, so we opted to go by long-distance coach. (more…)

Seeking a true cultural experience, Cameron immerses himself in some uniquely Turkish hospitality in Istanbul.

By Cameron Fergus

Face down on the cool, smooth marble slab, I lay hot, sweating and uncomfortable. The air’s humidity has formed into huge balls of condensation which plummet from the domed ceiling high above. When the drops don’t hammer directly onto my head and body, they bombard the slab all around, showering me with tiny staccato splashes. In a desperate attempt to adjust to the heat, my pores open and emit a seemingly endless supply of moisture.

I am alone, and virtually naked. Out of my depth. Unsure of protocol, I shift uncomfortably in the gathered pond of condensation and sweat — and wait. I sense movement around me. At first it is near my feet where they dangle over the rounded edge of the slab, and then alongside my hips, body, then shoulder. Just as I expect it to make contact, the presence retreats. I am tense, alarmed, but not yet scared. But I am absolutely out of my comfort zone. I am out of my comfort horizon. Out of my comfort hemisphere.

To find some sense in the uncertainty I recall all that I know for sure: I am partially covered, but not clothed. I am lying on a marble slab, with my body giving up the last of its essence. I feel abandoned, but a presence lurks just out of reach. My verdict: I am dead. The adventure ends here. Without a fight, without a whimper. But other factors conspire to contradict this conclusion: I am not cold — as I would expect to be in death — but in a warm place. My body does not give up blood and excreta, it only offers sweat.

But as I begin to think that I may not yet have reached the end of my life, the presence returns, this time beside my head. The first words are deep, husky, and tobacco-stained: “I am here”. (more…)

With the disappearance of the lawless bandits and random kidnappings, what’s the most likely reason for not returning home? Try not wanting to leave.

By Stephen Bugno

Our friend back at the embassy in Tbilisi dutifully passed on warnings from higher-ups advising us not to go or, if we were so intrepid, to at least hire a guide. They warned us about the bandits and we listened to stories of foreigner kidnappings that went in one ear and out the other. We had done our research and decided the quest was worth the minimal risk we thought it posed to our safety.

The place in question was Svaneti, a sparsely-populated, high-altitude region of the Republic of Georgia, sandwiched between the infamous conflict areas of South Ossetia and Abkhazia. We read that the situation had grown so bad that back in 2003, after a wave of increased murders and robberies of foreign tourists, the Georgian Interior Ministry deployed a special-purpose unit to restore order in the Mestia District.

At dusk we boarded the overnight train at the Tbilisi station and shortly after dawn we rolled into the drowsy town of Zugdidi. We made our way to the makeshift bus station. Here we hesitantly handed over our passports to buy the tickets for the next part of the journey. (more…)

What do you get when you mix dog sledding, .22 rifles, and Norway’s most famous liquor? How about an unforgettable weekend experiencing the best of Norway’s winter sports.

By Carl Thompson

Emerging onto a 3,000-foot plateau in central Norway, the moment freezes. To the east, hundreds of miles of virgin tracks glide enticingly away through the countless conifers of Rondane National Park; to the west, the Scandinavian sun melts over the darkening domes of the Jotunheimen range, its last watery rays hinting at the promise of adventure through drifting clusters of snowflakes. The snow tires of the minibus spin on the icy road, and I can’t wait to get out there. True, I’ve never tried cross-country skiing before, but putting one foot in front of the other can’t be that hard, can it? Before this trip is over, I will rue my overconfidence.

For now, though, a welcome hot drink by a log fire awaits back at the hotel. It’s there we meet our hosts and instructors for the next few days: Nick, a languidly composed former Infantry officer and highly qualified ski instructor; Tony, a clipped and courteous ex-Royal Marines officer; and Pat, a serious mountain man even by the admission of his hugely experienced colleagues. Between them they total nearly a century of military service, not to mention expertise in teaching leadership and organizing expeditions to such forbidding places as Antarctica, South Georgia and Everest. Nordic Challenge, the company formed by Nick and Tony in 2003, aims to give guests of all shapes, sizes and ages the distilled benefit of this vast know-how.

In the morning, after a buffet breakfast worth coming for in itself, there are chores to be tackled before we can hit the tracks. First it’s necessary to select the right clothes: light layers of absorbent and breathable fabrics, followed by just the right kind of ski wax for the conditions. All that’s needed then is a pair of slipper-like boots that click into the skinny skis at the toe only, allowing the heels to lift and making it possible to ski uphill as well as down. Fully equipped, we’re ready to kick out into the wild whiteness. (more…)

Every year for the past fifteen, over 200,000 people converge on the coast of Spain for the annual music festival, Festival Internacional de Benicàssim, for four days of live music, partying, and hanging out at the beach. What could possibly go wrong?

By Laura Bridgestock

It’s 8:30 a.m. I’ve been asleep for three hours. It feels like I’m in a sauna.

Actually, I’m in a tent at one of the world’s largest and best-known music festivals, the Festival Internacional de Benicàssim, located in the port town of Benicàssim, Spain. Now in its fifteenth year, the festival has become a major draw for fans around the world of indie rock and electronic music, with bands like Oasis, Franz Ferdinand, and The Killers all headlining this year.

I’d been worried about camping in the Mediterranean in mid-July and, as I’d feared, sleeping late is really not an option in this weather. The music doesn’t start until late, so there’s not much to do during the day other than crawl out of your tent, load onto the festival-sponsored bus heading to the nearby beach, and snooze in the shade or drink a cool sangria in a bar. By around 7 p.m., just as it starts to cool down, everyone’s ready to head back and start all over again.

In fact, heat turned out to be the least of our worries in a trip that began with one of our friends getting mugged and ended with all of us missing our flights home. Not to mention the gale-force wind storm that caused chaos in the middle of the week. Don’t get me wrong, Barcelona (where the mugging happened) is an amazing city, and FIB is a brilliant festival, but it ended up being a lot more dramatic than I’d planned for. After all, Spain is the most popular holiday destination for Brits like myself, and a good 60% of people at the festival were British, so I guess I was expecting things to go a bit more smoothly (especially after my adventures in Syria last year). (more…)

You never know what you’ll stumble upon while wandering the streets of Paris with camera in hand. Hopefully a good picture, but more important, some great memories.

By Dana McMahan

Sophie pushed open an anonymous door on rue de Faubourg Saint Antoine and we stepped off the noisy street and into a peaceful, shaded alley leading into a Parisian courtyard that seemed to be from another century. I followed her, still a little flabbergasted at the nonchalance with which she strode right in. This was not the Paris I knew, the Paris of landmarks and elbow to elbow tourists. And that’s exactly what I hoped for when I booked my half-day photography workshop with Sophie Pasquet.

We have to back up for a moment. I’d decided with three weeks notice to visit Morocco, and limited by my miles as to where Delta could fly me, I had to fly into London and EasyJet it to Marrakech. When the agent asked where I’d like to fly home from, well, the answer was a no-brainer: Paris. Though I’ve visited the city half a dozen times — spending a week there just last year — I can never get enough, and took this opportunity to tack on a couple days in my favorite city.

Once the decision was made, I began to wonder how to fill my time on this, my first trip to Paris all alone. Of course I’ve visited the biggies, and even some of the more obscure sights (5 a.m. tour of Rungis anyone?). I’ve taken a biking tour, a Seine tour, walking tours and even a boulangerie tour. How might I see the city in a new way? (more…)

In Part Two of my travel guide to Dublin, Ireland, I head off the beaten path to get a better sense of the city. I begin by checking out an international graffiti festival featuring artists from around the world. Later, I take in some traditional Irish music at a private show in my hostel, then finish off by heading north to the town of Malahide to visit famed Malahide Castle and to see some incredible views of the Irish coastline.

Dublin is one of the world’s most popular travel destinations, and a few days spent there shows why.

In Part One of my travel guide to Dublin, I tour the city’s number one attraction, the Guinness Storehouse, go in search of the bar that serves the best pint, visit prestigious Trinity College, and head out into the famed nightlife that is Dublin after dark.

London may be a notoriously difficult city to find good food, but don’t despair foodies: an insider’s guide to the best eats in town.

By Michele Giordano

Ah, the good ole English drinking tea, riding the tube and gaining their incredible wit from the awful weather. An English friend of mine once said to me, “You need to always be prepared to experience four seasons in one day.” As an island, the climate is far from tropical, bringing immediate showers, gray skies and fast moving clouds that can capture your gaze. London transportation, weather conditions and the best spots for teas are only part of the traveling experience in London, but finding the truly best places to eat around town is how to really understand the city and the English.

It can be hard for any traveler to find the right places to eat, and this is perhaps no more true than in London, a city that it’s fair to say, does not have the best culinary reputation. Before heading somewhere, I usually end up spending weeks researching, asking friends and skimming food websites to find out where the best places are to eat. For me to really experience a destination, I need to be immersed in the foods, flavors, spices, markets and restaurants of the locals.

This is why I ate my way through London for three months and acquired my own list of favorites. With the free museums, spending extra on a good meal seemed reasonable and proved not to be so difficult. The food of London is defined by some traditional English dishes: bubble and squeak; black pudding; fish and chips; bangers and mash; and salted beef beigels. Yet, if you understand the diversity of London, then you also know that there is a lot more to enjoy on a food tour of London. (more…)

For a truly authentic Norwegian experience, head to the country during the May 17th celebrations. But be prepared, you may never think of Norway the same way again.

By Catherine Skrzypinski

“Hei, I am Øivynd,” the shy Norwegian greeted me and my classmate, Zarinah, in front of the Royal Palace in Oslo, Norway.

It sounded like he said the word “even.”

He gestured towards his friend wearing a bunad, Norway’s national costume. “This is my friend Odd.”

I stifled a giggle. Even and Odd — now that’s quite the pair. They’re Norway’s very own Chip and Dale, decked out in red jackets and white knee-high socks.

“Welcome to Norge. Especially on the 17th of May,” he said enthusiastically. “It’s a great day to be here in Oslo!”

Indeed it was. May 17th is Norway’s Constitution Day, an annual celebration that marks the day in 1814 when Norway adopted its constitution and gained independence from Denmark, and is one of Norway’s most popular holidays. It is so popular, in fact, that many Danes travel across fjords and back through time to witness the spectacle. (more…)