I adopted my first dog as an adult last July. In January, I happened upon a stray dog and took him in, too. Now I have two dogs. It was only a year ago that I was without a dog and, in regard to traveling, without a worry. I now see that I took for granted my ability to hop on a plane to anywhere in the world and leave, for as long as I wanted to, prior to having dogs. Destinations still aren’t off limits for me – I can still go wherever I want to go – but my dogs can’t go everywhere with me and certain restrictions make it not worth trying in some cases. So where can we travel with dogs? What are the most dog-friendly countries?
The pyramids of Egypt have fascinated people ever since they were built. The Step Pyramid at Saqqara started things off around 2650 B.C. Later came the iconic pyramids of Giza. What’s often forgotten, however, is that pyramid construction continued for more than a thousand years and there are at least 138 built to house the remains of pharaohs and queens. More are still being discovered. Last year, satellite imagery revealed seventeen previously unknown pyramids.
The later pyramids of Egypt tend to be overlooked, and it’s easy to see why considering the sad state of most of them. Just take a look at this photo of the pyramid of Senusret II (ruled 1895-1878 B.C.) and photographed by Jon Bodsworth. Like a lot of later pyramids, it was made of mud bricks instead of stone blocks to save money, and that’s why it’s a giant sad lump today – an interesting lump, though.
The interior tunnels are still intact and archaeologists discovered the nearby village where the workmen lived. Contrary to popular belief, slaves didn’t construct the pyramids. Actually, it was trained craftsmen and farmers who didn’t have any other work to do when their fields were underwater during the annual flooding of the Nile.
Senusret II was part of the 12th Dynasty, a high point in Egyptian power and civilization. It’s strange then that pyramids were in decline. You can see several of these pyramids at Dahsur, not far from Saqqara and an easy day trip from Cairo. One is the Black Pyramid of Amenemhat III (ruled 1842-1797 B.C.). It started to collapse almost immediately so he had to build a second one at the Faiyum Oasis near a giant temple to the crocodile god Sobek. This site reopened last year.
%Gallery-155699%The experimentation with cheaper building methods may have started with Senusret I (ruled 1962-1928 B.C.). Instead of a solid geometric shape, the builders first constructed a network of walls crisscrossing each other and dividing the pyramid into 32 parts. These were then filled with loose stone. A smooth limestone facing was put over the whole thing. It sounded good in theory, but it’s another sad lump today.
Perhaps as a compensation for the cheap building styles, the later pyramids had elaborate tricks to stop tomb robbers: dead end tunnels sealed with thick stones; interior chambers made of quartzite, the hardest substance worked in Ancient Egypt; elaborately sealed rooms that contained nothing; and sarcophagi as big as the rooms that held them in order to deny robbers room to work.
Sadly, none of these tricks worked and the pharaohs eventually resorted to hidden underground tombs in places like the Valley of the Kings. After the 12th and 13th dynasties, pyramids went out of fashion. Many of the 13th dynasty rulers didn’t bother building one at all. Only a few were made by later dynasties. The last pyramid made for a pharaoh was for Ahmose I around 1525 B.C. It’s a pile of rubble now that barely measures 30 feet high. Much later, pyramids briefly became fashionable in the Sudan.
The pyramid was dead, and last year, so was Egypt’s tourism industry. It’s been gradually rebuilding itself, though. Cruise lines are returning, as are independent travelers. The tourist sights remained mostly unaffected by the unrest and there’s not much trouble outside of a few spots in Cairo.
Visitors will have more to see with six tombs at Giza having reopened and Egyptologists hard at work uncovering more ancient wonders. Many of the later pyramids haven’t been excavated and while all the ones that have been explored were plundered by tomb robbers centuries ago, there’s always a chance that the treasure of a pharaoh remains hidden inside one of them.
As anyone who follows my articles here on Gadling knows by now, I don’t travel to relax poolside at a resort or sip a fancy drink with coconut oil. I travel because this world is a fascinating place.
While everyone has their own travel philosophy and reasons for wanting to get away, I know that for many travelers, one of the greatest joys of travel is experiencing other cultures and peeking into corners of the world, which are far removed from our own. This could range from immersing yourself in a culture with a different religion, cuisine, or something as simple as driving on the other side of the road.
More often than not, however, one of the largest indicators that we “aren’t in Kansas anymore” is traveling to a place with a language that is different from our own. With linguists estimating there are over 7,000 languages spread across the globe, there is little to no chance of any traveler ever having the opportunity to properly experience them all. Furthermore, as Gadling blogger Kraig Becker points out, there are still uncontacted tribes in parts of the Amazon where we don’t even know what language they speak yet.
Though situations like these are encouraging, the sad reality is that the majority of indigenous languages is critically endangered and will most likely not survive the next generation. According to the United Nations and UNESCO, not only does an indigenous language go extinct every two weeks, but up to 90% of the world’s languages are likely to disappear in the next century if current trends continue.
While the Economist reports that recent advances in technology may actually be able to aid in the rescue and rebirth of languages, the fact of the matter remains that thousands of global languages are dying at a terrifying rate.
So, in a nod to the fascinating beauty of global tongues, here is a rundown of eight languages that you’ve probably never heard of, and are lucky if you ever hear.
More than just a single language, Sámi forms an entire family of languages, which are spoken in the northern reaches of Scandinavia and northwestern Russia. While neighboring groups of Sámi speaking peoples may be able to understand the sub-family spoken next door, Sámi speakers separated by hundreds of miles are considered to be mutually unintelligible. That being said, nearly all Sámi speakers are fluent in their native tongue as well as the national tongue of their home country, i.e., Norwegian. Once referred to as Lapp, the name is now considered to carry derogatory connotations.
As can be expected from a language rooted in northern Scandinavia, the Sámi language reputedly has over 300 words for snow. Though there is a movement to rejuvenate the language amongst the Sámi youth, some of the Sámi dialects such as Southern Sámi are feared to be on the verge of extinction.
Xhosa
Where it’s spoken:South Africa Approximate number of speakers: 7.9 million
Ok, I’ll admit it. If you’ve traveled to South Africa then you’ve probably heard of this language. You’ve probably even heard it spoken. As one of the major languages of South Africa, Xhosa has been spoken by such recognized dignitaries as Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
Nevertheless, what makes Xhosa such a fascinating language is the inclusion of pronounced clicks, which seem to emerge effortlessly from the mouths of those who are speaking. Even though Xhosa speakers appear to be in the midst of rapid-fire dialogue, they simultaneously are able to create a sound birthed somewhere between the throat and the tongue, which is impossible to get tired of witnessing.
Melpa
Where it’s spoken:Papua New Guinea Approximate number of speakers: 130,000
With over 800 languages, Papua New Guinea is officially regarded as being the most linguistically diverse country found anywhere in the world. Out of the 800-plus languages in the country, Melba is a tongue that is spoken in the western highlands and centered around the town of Mount Hagen. One of the most widely spoken languages in the tribal highlands, less than 100 years have passed since the Melpa and their fellow highland people first came into contact with Western outsiders.
Plus they have an unbelievable YouTube video that makes me want to buy Jams pants.
Ket
Where it’s spoken:Russia (Siberia) Approximate number of speakers: 600
An isolate language which, like the Basque language in Spain, is unrelated to any neighboring language, the Ket are such an obscure and unfathomably isolated group of former hunter-gatherers that many Russian people don’t even know they exist.
Located in south-central Siberia, just north of the border with Mongolia, Ket has begun being taught at the lower grade levels in the handful of villages that still host native Ket populations. With the Russian language infiltrating all forms of daily life, however, many fear that the Ket language is on a clear-cut path for extinction.
Anus
Where it’s spoken: Irian Jaya, Indonesia Approximate number of speakers: 70
Yes, I’ve included this here for no other reason than its wildly sophomoric name. All joking aside, however, the Anus language is spoken by the Anus people, indigenous residents of an island off the coast of Irian Jaya, Indonesia. As classless linguists like myself will point out, the Anus language is not to be confused with the Anal language spoken by the Anal people of India. A language with roughly 14,000 native speakers, Anal is spoken in portions of India and Myanmar.
Yoron
Where it’s spoken:Japan Approximate number of speakers: 950
If you, like me, thought that only Japanese was spoken in Japan, then allow me to introduce you to Yoronjima, a tiny island in the Ryukyu island chain in the waters of southern Japan. A subtropical island that looks more akin to Fiji than Japan, Yoronjima is a haven for vacationing Japanese who flock to the island to scuba dive the turquoise waters and bake on the white sand beaches. Although mainstream Japanese is the de facto language of commerce on Yoronjima, about 950 of the island’s 6,000 residents still speak the native tongue of Yoron while privately gathered or while in the home.
Silbo Gomero
Where it’s spoken: Canary Islands, Spain Approximate number of speakers: 22,000
Spoken on the rugged and mountainous island of La Gomera in Spain’s Canary Islands, Silbo Gomero is officially known as the world’s only language consisting entirely of whistling. Derived as a means of communicating across the island’s steep and precipitous ravines, Silbo Gomero uses whistles meant to mimic the sounds of four vowels and four consonants, which, when used in conjunction, are able to create a vocabulary of over 4,000 intelligible words. Though linguists debate over the exact root of the language, some theorize that it may derive from the Berber languages found in nearby Morocco.
Able to be understood at a distance of up to two miles, the advent of mobile phones has created a sharp drop off in the necessity of Silbo Gomero. Nevertheless, in an effort to retain the island’s culture, Silbo Gomero is now taught in state run schools at the elementary level in an effort is foster its use amongst the island’s youth.
Taushiro
Where it’s spoken: Peru Approximate Number of Speakers: 1
Amadeo Garcia is the last person in the world who speaks Taushiro. A native tribesman of the Peruvian Amazon who also speaks Spanish, Amadeo realizes that as soon as he dies, the language will forever too die with him. As of this writing, Amadeo is 57 years old.
Imagine being able to speak a language that no one else on Earth understands. At first I’m sure there would be some novelty, but after time that novelty would simply turn to loneliness. While the above video is entirely in Spanish, it explains that Amadeo speaks Taushiro only to himself. Around his village, a remote town where he lives in a one-room, wooden shack, Amadeo speaks Spanish with his fellow villagers. In the jungles, however, when paddling his dugout canoe or hunting for birds with his traditional blow dart gun, he will occasionally break into song or speak to himself in Taushiro.
A sad reality to be sure, Amadeo personifies the plight of indigenous peoples and native languages in every corner of the world. From Native Americans in North America to ethnic minorities of the high Tibetan plateau, how many more people like Amadeo are out there, mumbling to themselves in the jungle in a language the world will never hear again?
There’s something compelling about ghost towns. To walk amid the houses that once held families, past playgrounds that once rang with the laughter of children, and through public buildings where locals once gathered – all gone.
I’ve explored ghost towns all over the American Southwest, and while they have creepiness aplenty, the most disturbing ghost town has to be Kolmanskop in Namibia. Perhaps it hits closer to home because it was abandoned as recently as 1954. Perhaps it’s because its buildings are half filled with desert sand, and may one day get buried entirely.
Kolmanskop sprouted into existence in 1908 when diamonds were discovered there. At that time Namibia was colonized by Germans who were eager to extract the mineral wealth of the region and, shamefully, had just committed genocide against two Namibian tribes to secure their dominance. The discovery set off a rush of investment and construction and soon this barren stretch of sand was the location of a model German town with schools, theaters and stately homes. It was so wealthy that its hospital boasted the first x-ray machine in the Southern Hemisphere and its public transportation included the first tramline in Africa.
%Gallery-155604%Much of the town remains, desiccated and preserved by the harsh desert environment. Check out the photo gallery to see the bleak grandeur of a place that was used by astronomer Dr. Brian Cox to illustrate the concept of entropy on his show “Wonders of the Universe.”
Kolmanskop is located in Sperrgebiet, a diamond-mining region in southern Namibia that is off-limits to the general public without a permit, which can be easily obtained through one of the tour companies that offers visits. Prebooked tours are currently the only way to visit the town. Because of the limited number of visitors, nature thrives in this region despite half of it being desert.
It’s impossible to know what a lost conversation might have yielded. A lost conversation occupies a place in memory, a reservoir of sadness or relief. It’s the shape of the reservoir that remains forever unknown. This uncertainty often renders the very recognition of a lost conversational opportunity difficult.
The decision to welcome a stranger into conversation while on the road isn’t always easy. Nobody wants to be an easy mark. In places with pervasive tourism infrastructures, it’s often the better part of wisdom to ignore touts and attempts at conversation altogether. There are, after all, many scams to avoid, many tourist traps to escape.
But often a self-imposed barrier to conversation on the part of a tourist or traveler precludes what would have been interesting, useful, personally significant, or simply an opportunity to share a laugh or two.
A year and a half ago I was in Mauritius, having a conversation with my partner on a beach. What was it about? No idea. A very tall man with dreadlocks came up to us and hovered maybe 15 feet away. Very quietly he asked us if we might be interested in buying some jewelry made out of sea urchins.
I couldn’t hear him. “Sorry?” I asked. He repeated his pitch. “No thank you,” I responded, somewhat curtly. We were not interested in his jewelry. He also wasn’t really bothering us. Had our completely forgettable conversation not felt urgent, I would no doubt have been more polite. Hawkers are few and far between in this part of Mauritius, at least off-season, and his entreaty had been tame and gentle. But we weren’t interested, and we were in the middle of a conversation in any case.
“Where are you from?” he persisted. Every time we got this question in Mauritius we had to make a decision. Either we enjoyed the unfolding game and entertained a dozen or so guesses before we revealed our nationality, or we nipped it in the bud by responding “American.” This time, eager to get back to our conversation, we chose the latter option.
“I know America,” he said with sudden clarity. He pointed at his chest with a single finger. “I am from Chagos.” Suddenly, everything changed. He was no longer an unobtrusive if vaguely annoying hawker. “You are from Chagos?” I asked, suddenly alert. “Yes,” he answered. And then he turned away abruptly. The lines of communication were closed. He was done.The Chagos Islands are a string of Indian Ocean islands, part of the British Indian Ocean Territory. The islanders’ modern history is pretty terrible, all things considered. Beginning in the late 1960s, native Chagossians were evicted from the territory by the British government, who proceeded in 1971 to lease Diego Garcia to the United States for use as a military base.
Chagossians won several court battles in the UK for the right to return to the islands before seeing that right overturned in 2008. The islanders subsequently appealed to the European Court of Human Rights and currently await a ruling. In 2010, the British government declared the territory a marine reserve, something that may place the islands off limits to Chagossians if the European Court of Human Rights rules in their favor.
Today, Chagossians are well and truly dispossessed. They live mostly in Mauritius, Seychelles, and the UK. I’d known prior to visiting Mauritius that there was a sizable Chagossian community in the country. I’d wanted to glimpse Chagossian culture, get a sense of their situation in Mauritius, and maybe have dinner at a Chagossian restaurant, should one exist.
I asked around about the Chagossians. One taxi driver told us that they were responsible for many social problems. He went on and on. His diatribe sounded almost verbatim like the kind of blanketing anti-Roma sentiment I’ve heard from many Europeans. It didn’t just lodge a complaint against a people; it assigned a thoroughgoing failure to possess positive values to an entire culture. The picture that emerged in conversation on Mauritius and in my own research is of a community dispossessed doubly – both from their territory and within Mauritian society.
In the context of such intense cultural dispossession, maybe a conversation on a beach in Mauritius between an American tourist and a displaced Chagossian can’t simply be a conversation. It’s hard to know. Most people are, after all, able to distinguish between individuals and the behavior of governments.
In any case, I regret strongly that this conversation never happened. It might have been annoying. It might have simply been a continual sales pitch for an object I didn’t want. It also might have been an opportunity to learn. Less loftily, it might simply have been an enjoyable exchange. I’ll never know.
