The Vasa: an elegant seventeenth-century warship in Stockholm

by Sean McLachlan on


Sweden’s capital Stockholm has a lot to offer-fine dining, good shopping, lovely parks, access to some interesting day trips (the old Viking capital of Uppsala being my favorite) and a unique museum. The Vasa Ship Museum is one of Sweden’s most popular tourist attractions and it’s easy to see why. It houses a beautifully preserved 17th century warship.

The Vasa was meant to be the pride of the Swedish fleet at a time when the nation was one of Europe’s major powers. The galleon was 226 feet long, carried 145 sailors and 300 soldiers, and sported elegant woodwork over much of its exterior. Its 64 cannon could blast out 588 pounds of iron from port or starboard, giving it more firepower than any other ship then in existence. It must have been a major letdown when it sank barely a mile into its maiden voyage in 1628. It turns out the whole thing was top heavy.

While the Vasa was a bad ship, it’s an awesome museum piece. The cold water, silt, and pollution of Stockholm harbor kept it safe from microorganisms that would have eaten it up. When archaeologists raised it from the sea they retrieved thousands of artifacts such as weapons, utensils, coins, clothing, tools, and hemp sails and rigging. Some parts of the ship still had flakes of paint and gold leaf adhering to them, so its once-vivid colors could be reproduced in a scale model in the museum.

This year is the 50th anniversary of its raising from the bottom of the harbor. This was a tricky operation that required 1,300 dives and a great deal of delicate underwater work in low visibility. Divers had to dig six tunnels under the shipwreck in order to run steel cables through them and attach them to pontoons on the surface. After that, the pontoons lifted it to the surface without a hitch.

The next step was to reassemble the ship. All of the nails had rusted away, so the archaeologists were left with a massive jigsaw puzzle with many of the pieces missing. Some 32,000 cubic feet of oak timber and more than 26,000 artifacts had to be preserved, cataloged, and archived. To house the restored ship, the Vasa Ship Museum opened in 1990.

Now the Vasa may get some companions. Five other ships dating from the 16th to the 18th century have been discovered during the renovation of one of Stockholm’s quays. This was the site of the old shipyards where the Vasa was built. They’re said to be in good condition and some are as long as 20 meters (66 feet).

If you love the sea, you’ll also want to check out Amsterdam’s Maritime Museum and Madrid’s Naval Museum. And if you’re going to Stockholm, check out our budget Stockholm guide.

Photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

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Bowermaster’s Adventures: Protecting the Maldives

by Jon Bowermaster on

Laamu, Maldives— The recent four-day, ocean-focused conference — dubbed WaterWoMen by its sponsors, Six Senses Resortsand +H2O— was a first-of-a-kind blend of water sport activities and intellectual athleticism.

Equal part coming out party for the resort on this remote Maldivian atoll just a100 miles north of the equator included were not just some of the world’s top water athletes (surfers, windsurfers, free divers, kite boarders) but some of the planet’s more thoughtful thinkers on ocean issues as well.

On the athlete side were surfers Layne Beachley and Buzzy Kerbox , windsurfers Levi Silver and Keith Teboul, kite surfers Mark Shinn and Alex Caizergues and extreme wake boarder Duncan Zuur.

The slightly less active contingent included biologist and oceanographer Dr. Callum Roberts; aquatic filmmaker and 3rdgeneration ocean lover Fabien Cousteau; Carl Gustaf Lundin, director of the IUCN’s Global Marine Program; Bollywood producer/director Shekhar Kapur; Chris Gorell Barnes, executive producer of the film “End of the Line;” and Water Charity co-founders Dr. Jacqueline Chan and Averill Strasser.

The Maldives is a perhaps the perfect place for such a meeting since warming sea temperatures have put its coral reefs at risk, thus endangering both its local population and the tourism industry that is its economic base. The event was prudently also a fundraiser for a trio of ocean non-profits:

The Blue Marine Foundation(www.bluemarinefoundation.com), created by Barnes, a recent initiative pushing for ten percent of the world’s ocean to be placed into marine reserves by 2020 (today less than one percent is thus protected);

Plant A Fish(www.plantafish.org), Fabien Cousteau’s hands-on marine education and restoration effort to engage local communities around the globe through schools, businesses and government agencies to “re-plant” aquatic plants and animals in environmentally stressed areas;

Water Charity(www.watercharity.org), focused on providing safe drinking water, effective sanitation and health education to those most in need via the most cost-effective and efficient means.

One the most important subjects whenever marine folk gather is that of how to better protect the ocean at the edges of our coastlines. The statistics are simple and seemingly ridiculous: More than 12 percent of the earth’s land is protected, whether as park, reserve, preserve or sanctuary. Of the ocean, which covers nearly 72 percent of the planet, far less than 1 percent is formally protected.

The Maldives is proudly home to the new, 1,200 kilometer square Baa Atoll World Biosphere Reserve.
One frank discussion during the Maldives gathering included some of the more experienced players in that arena: Callum Roberts, whose “Unnatural History of the Sea” is perhaps the best book out there about how man has so badly treated the ocean over the past 500 years; Chris Gorrell Barnes, a London-based advertising executive who used his promotional skills to help “The End of the Line” move from book to internationally seen film about man’s grave impact on the planet’s fisheries and Carl Gustaf Lundin, who oversees marine and polar programs for the International Union for Conservation of Nature, which is responsible for helping create MPAs around the globe.

Roberts led off and was most direct: “So-called paper MPAs won’t work,” he said, referring to all the talking about, thinking about and hoping to protect parts of the ocean that goes on without actually doing it. “Establishing them, then enforcing the boundaries is key.”

“And only local protection works,” he continued. “Bringing in environmental groups or government agencies from outside won’t work. Local people have to protect their own waters.”

Calling MPAs “barometers” of the ocean, he said he was thankful for the newly announced set aside of the Baa Atoll — one of 26 big atolls that make up the Maldives, which include more than 800 individual islands or smaller atolls — because the Indian Ocean that surrounds the island state has been badly impacted by development stress, overfishing, pollution and, particularly, the impacts of climate change.

Barnes, whose Blue Marine Foundation — created as a follow up to the success of the “End of the Line” — was among several instrumental in getting the Baa Atoll approved as an official UNESCO Biosphere Reserve. The goal of Blue Marine is to see 10 percent of the world’s ocean formally protected in the next decade.
“What we need now is not more science. It’s money. The biggest challenge is how to fund marine reserves, especially in bad economic times,” said Barnes.

Working with the IUCN, an MPA five times the size of the one in the Maldives has been set up in the Chagos Islands. “But in order to get that accomplished,” said Barnes, “we had to raise outside money to help the U.K. government, which is a prosperous First World nation. Imagine how difficult it is for countries in the developing world to find money to protect the ocean.”

Roberts chimed in that the money needed to protect even 30 percent of the ocean was not that much, in the big picture. “That would cost just over $14 billion,” he said, “or about the amount spent on beauty care products each year.”

The IUCN’s Lundin suggested that $14 billion was paltry compared to the $70 billion spent by countries around the world to subsidize fishermen. “The big question for MPAs, including here in the Maldives, is how do you subsidize people notto fish?”

He had dived off Laamu earlier in the morning and had seen just five big fish in a stretcher where “I should have seen 50.”

“We have to do better at teaching people that a live manta ray, which helps bring millions of tourist dollars to the Maldives, is a far better deal than killing and selling its gills in China for a few hundred dollars.
“But the time to act is now,” he said,” since we’ve only got 10 percent of the fish left.”

He agreed with Roberts that enforcement was key to making MPAs work.

“We have helped many areas in India gain protection, but enforcement then becomes a low priority. The reality is that you have to hang a few people high from time to time, as example, to help with enforcement,” he said.
The IUCN keeps a list of scofflaw vessels around the globe, including the names of ships and their captains, but Lundin liked the example of Malaysians who when they catch a boat poaching in its waters sink it within 24 hours.

” ‘Warm and fuzzy’ doesn’t always work,” he said. “For MPAs to work, enforcement has to be swift and effective.”

Life, death and the best truckstop restaurant in Italy

by David Farley on
Paul was dying. At lunch. In Rome. And just around the corner from the Trevi Fountain. Which didn’t seem like worst place in the world to spend the last moments of one’s life. Ten minutes earlier, the waiter had put a bowl of spaghetti alle vongole in front of Paul, the steam from the pasta and mussels fogging up his glasses. So much so we didn’t notice he was suddenly slumped over and passed out. But now, laid out flat on the cobblestones five feet from our table where he could get medical attention, my friend Pancho and I (along with Paul’s little dog Jack) could only stand there and watch as the waiters flagged over some paramedics they’d called a few minutes earlier. “It’s Paul Steffen,” the waiter whispered to one of the paramedics.

He was eighty-six years, two weeks, and three days old, to be exact. I always knew the day of his death would come, probably sooner than later, and I guess in a perverse way it was fitting that he’d die over lunch.

Which is the meal I’ll always associate with Paul. I was living in Calcata, a hippie-and-artist-laden medieval hill town about an hour north of the Italian capital. Paul, along with his longtime friend, Pancho, 56, a chef, mosaic artist and former dancer, had lived in the village since the early 1980s.

They became two of my first friends when I moved to the village to research a book. Because there were no restaurants open in Calcata on Tuesdays, we’d drive out of the village on that day every week and have lunch somewhere.


It was exciting for me because I’d get to see new places around central Italy: sometimes we’d go up to Viterbo, an off-the-radar city that was clad in gothic architecture and surrounded by giant, thick walls; sometimes we’d go to Civita Castellana, a medieval hill town about 20 minutes away; sometimes we’d eat in Rome.

But my favorite was always the truckstop. A truckstop in the middle of nowhere that happened to serve some of the best Italian food I’ve ever eaten. Would eating there ever be the same without Paul? We’d go there–located out on the Via Flaminia toward the A1 autostrada–and sometimes he’d settle a dilemma I was having with two sage words: we’ll see. Which, as I interpreted it, was a Buddhist-like way of saying: don’t get stuck in a moment (of anxiety or fear, for example) because all situations, attitudes, beliefs, relationships, feelings, etc. are constantly in flux; they’re impermanent and will change. So don’t grasp on to it. Let it work itself out with time. (And it always did.)

Sometimes, if I was lucky, Paul would talk about his extraordinary 20th-century life. After all, as I watched the paramedics try to rouse him to consciousness on the cobblestones outside the restaurant in Rome, I thought: this was no ordinary man dying in front of me. Paul’s career as a dancer and choreographer was kick started in Hollywood when he began dancing in films beside Rita Hayworth. In the late forties, his friend, film director (and eventual name namer) Elia Kazan told him that this Senator McCarthy guy in Washington didn’t bode well for them. Paul wasn’t a Communist, but he was gay and liberal, which for that time pretty much made him a Communist anyway. Kazan’s advice to the young up-and-coming dancer: Get the hell out of this place.

So he moved to Paris where he’d hung out regularly with Jean-Paul Sarte, Lena Horne, and other celebrities of the age. Jean Cocteau even gave him an apartment. After moving to Rome in the 1960s, he quickly fell in with the Via Veneto crowd, carousing with Fellini and Marcelo Mastrioanni and becoming the choreographer for Italy’s then-only TV channel, RAI. It’s hard to imagine a dancer achieving household name status–the closest might be Barishnikov, I suppose–but in Italy Paul was it.

Though still famous with people of a certain age, Paul’s star has long faded. Not at the truckstop, though. People would greet Paul warmly there. Or maybe it was because we went there so much.

If somehow you’d just materialized at a table at L’Aquila, the truckstop restaurant, you’d never realize you were cavorting with truckers until you sauntered outside to see the lorries fueling up. Shaded in white and yellow and bathed–like nearly all restaurants in Italy–in fluorescent lighting and a TV always screaming in the background, L’Aquila didn’t try to reinvent anything. After all, this is Italy. Instead, the carbonara and amatriciana, for example, tasted fresh. Flavors seemed amplified, as if the nonna cooking back in the kitchen was sprinkling culinary steroids in every dish. Arugula was often of the wild variety (which was so naturally peppery, you’d want to sneeze).

Pancho, Paul and I would settle in and do the lunch course: antipasti, primi, and secondi. Several bottles of wine would be consumed as well. But at the restaurant in Rome, the day Paul passed out in front of his spaghetti alle vongole, we hadn’t even gotten through the primi course. And it didn’t seem like we were going to. Paul was dying. Or at least we thought so. A few minutes later, however, he was awake. Then he was sitting up. A few minutes after that, we resumed eating. And after lunch, we went on a crawl through Rome’s wine bars. Paul Steffen went from nearly dead to drunk in a matter of hours. Not a bad way to live. Paul eventually did die a year later. Sadly, not in a restaurant but in a hospital like most people.

On my next trip to Italy, I’m going to visit L’Aquila, perhaps the best truckstop restaurant in Italy (if not Europe or the planet). I’m going to eat three courses and if I’m masticating on the problems and anxieties in my life (why wouldn’t I?), I’ll pour myself a glass of wine and remind myself of Paul’s favorite phrase:

We’ll see.

Orphanage tourism and Cambodia’s fight to end it

by Jessica Marati on

In Cambodia, it’s not uncommon for tourists to be offered tours of local orphanages in the same way they’re offered tours of Angkor Wat.

It might be tempting to accept the opportunity to experience “the real Cambodia,” especially when you’re confronted by extreme poverty at every turn. But before you do, a new campaign backed by international NGO Friends-International and UNICEF asks you to think again.

“Travelers care for Cambodia and are often disturbed by the perceived situation of children,” said Sebastien Marot, Executive Director of Friends-International, whose headquarters are in Cambodia. “It is essential for them to understand the real situation and what positive actions they can take to effectively protect and support these children.”

A recent study of Cambodia’s residential institutions showed that the rapidly growing practice of “orphanage tourism” actually does more harm than good, violating the rights of children and contributing to the separation of families. The study revealed that 72 percent of children living in institutions labeled “orphanages” have at least one living parent, and that the number of these types of institutions has grown in recent years, despite the fact that the number of orphaned and vulnerable children has shrunk. The study also showed that a number of these orphanage tourism schemes are run by unscrupulous business operators, and many aren’t regulated.Orphanages in themselves aren’t bad, but visitors must be aware of the effects of their actions. The Friends/UNICEF campaign encourages tourists to ask themselves a number of questions before they decide to visit an orphanage, including:

  • Are visitors allowed to just drop in and have direct access to children without supervision? Orphanages that allow strangers off the street to interact with children unsupervised, without conducting sufficient background checks, are not protecting the interests of the children.
  • Are children required to work or participate in securing funds for the orphanage? The songs and dances may be cute, but they can also be viewed as child labor and groom children for begging and street work that leaves them open to exploitation.
  • Does the orphanage have an active family reunification program? The extended family plays an important role in Cambodian culture, and efforts should be made to reunite orphaned children with family members that can care for them.

One of the most important questions, though, is one visitors should ask themselves.

“You aren’t allowed to go anywhere and hug a child in your own country,” said Marot. “Why should you be able to do it here?”

To learn more about positive ways to protect children in your travels, check out these seven tips from Friends-International.

Video: Epic kayaking crashes

by Kraig Becker on

Kayaking can be a challenging and dangerous sport, particularly when the water is running fast and wild. The video below hammers that point home with a compilation of some of the craziest and downright scary crashes that you’re ever likely to see on the water. Everything from broken paddles to backward drops over big waterfalls are on display, which makes for an exciting video but will leave you feeling glad that it isn’t you in the kayak.