Amsterdam’s Stedelijk Museum Reopens, Adding To City’s Reputation As A Major Art Destination

by Sean McLachlan on

Amsterdam is famous, and infamous, for its many attractions appealing to all types of traveler. One of the best reasons to visit is for the world-class art museums such as the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum and the Hermitage.

Now another can be added to the list. The Stedelijk Museum reopens to the public this Sunday after a long remodel that has created more gallery space, allowing the first comprehensive display of the museum’s world-renowned collection of modern and contemporary art. Queen Beatrix presided over the opening ceremony on Saturday.

The museum is especially strong with works from the many art movements of the early 20th century like Expressionism, Bauhaus and Suprematism. One important work is “Woodcutter,” painted in 1912 or 1913 by Kazimir Malevich, shown here courtesy Wikimedia Commons. The museum also has a major collection dedicated to 20th century industrial and graphic design.

To mark the reopening, a temporary exhibition, “Beyond Imagination,” is on display until November 11. This exhibition brings together 20 international artists, active in the Netherlands, to give their views on the boundaries between reality and imagination.

The new design reorients the entire museum to face onto Amsterdam’s Museumplein (Museum Plaza), which it shares with the Rijksmuseum, the Van Gogh Museum and the Concertgebouw.

Airbnb Reconsidered

by Alex Robertson Textor on

From my first encounter with Airbnb I have been a fan. I’ve used the service and then extolled its virtues. I’ve been a kind of evangelist, convinced that my most hotel-obsessed friends would catch Airbnb fever if they just gave it a chance.

I’ve used Airbnb close to a dozen times in total. Until recently, it was difficult for me to perceive any potential weaknesses for guests within the service. (Hosts are a bit more vulnerable than guests, as highlighted by that particularly well-covered and quite terrible incident last year. To its credit, Airbnb introduced a $50,000 vandalism and theft guarantee in response to that event.)

I recently discovered a weakness of Airbnb for guests, which I’ll try to summarize as the uneasy pairing of a host’s limitations and a guest’s expectations.

Here’s my example. A few weeks ago I rented an Airbnb apartment in an exciting corner of a big city. There were two issues with the rental: a miscommunication around the key, which led me to the conclusion that the host only possessed a single set of keys to the flat, and a strong hint that the rental was not approved. My evidence for this latter assumption was that the house rules instructed guests not to answer the front door and to tell neighbors, if asked, that they were friends of the owner.

Here’s the thing, the key misunderstanding and its terrible inconvenience for my host aside. Given the choice I would never have opted to stay in a clandestine rental, and nor would I have wanted to be the sole key holder of an apartment owned by somebody I had never met. Unwanted complications almost seem to be guaranteed in such situations.

For me, the beauty of Airbnb has been the friendly, effortless simplicity of the experience, with the happy bonuses of local knowledge and invitations to coffee. But with the stress of feeling that the single set of keys in your possession is your host’s lifeline to his living space, or the worry that your very presence in your host’s building is clandestine, the experience begins to feel neither effortless nor simple.

And this is the crux of the issue. With Airbnb it’s hard to know in advance whether your needs as a guest will match up with the particularities of a host’s situation.

[Image: Alex Robertson Textor]

Photo Of The Day: Silba

by Alex Robertson Textor on

Silba is a tiny northern Dalmatian island close to the port city of Zadar, Croatia. The island sees its population boom in the summer, from a few hundred year-rounders to a few thousand seasonal sunshine seekers. Closed to passenger cars, Silba is one of many Croatian islands that could have been created to perfectly showcase summer in all of its glory.

This image, captured by Flickr user mmusnjak, is drenched in happy summer emotions. It is a particularly bittersweet image today, the last day of summer in the Northern Hemisphere.

Upload your best images to the Gadling Group Pool on Flickr. We select our favorites from the bunch to be future Photos of the Day.

The Great Italian Island Caper

by David Farley on
The island of Pantelleria sits 58 miles southwest of Sicily, which doesn’t seem very significant until you realize it also sits 45 miles from Tunisia, making this Italian island closer to North Africa than to Italy.

The island has been shaped by many occupiers and visitors; the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Normans, Bourbons, and Genovese have all stopped here and somehow left their mark. But it’s the Arabs who really engraved, “We were here” the deepest into the island’s ubiquitous dark-hued volcanic rock. They brought with them dishes like couscous and shakshouka. They also planted olive and citrus trees, as well as something that has given the island its main reputation: capers.


Whenever I told someone I was headed to Pantelleria, they’d either give me a blank stare, which told me they had no idea what I was talking about, or they’d say, “Oh, capers!” Yes, capers from Pantelleria are the capers to consume, apparently.

Capers are everywhere on the island, particularly, of course, in restaurant dishes. There were capers in pasta, in pesto, on spreads over crostini, topped on fish, in caponata. It was starting to seem like a caper version of Monty Python’s famous skit about Spam.
I wanted to get to the center of caper production on Pantelleria. And so one day I wandered into the middle of a caper field and began chatting with a farmer named Lorenzo “Until the ’70s,” he told me, “the island’s economy was based solely on capers and grapes.” In fact, every farmer had a field that was a mix of both. But in the ’80s, he told me, the caper-eating world became aware of the high-quality capers Pantelleria was producing and soon enough, many farmers just switched to capers. “Thanks to the volcanic soil,” the farmer said, “as well as things like culture and wind and moisture from the morning dew, the capers here have a distinct taste.” It’s true: they’re bolder and slightly sweet and the smaller capers have a crunchy-ness you just can’t find elsewhere.

The fertility of the soil is, in some cases, buttressed by the wind. This has led to some interesting innovations by the island’s farmers. They built walls out of volcanic rock around lemon and orange trees; they cultivated olive trees so that they would grow more like shrubs, spreading, tentacle like, their branches along the ground, too low for the wind to dry out its leaves. And the same goes for capers.


He knelt down on one knee and showed me how capers are picked. “Like praying,” he said. “It’s very difficult work.” So difficult, in fact, that the next generation or two might see the end of caper production on the island. “The next generation won’t want to do this work,” he said. “And then what will we do?” he asked, and then shrugged.

Until then, we should enjoy the capers of Pantellieria. As the farmer would say, they go well with everything, proven by pretty much anything you eat while on the island.

Travel Rule #1: Talk To Strangers

by Dave Seminara on

The man approaching our parked car had an unkempt beard and was wearing a dirty T-shirt. My first inclination was to try to avoid him, but then I had a sudden change of heart. Earlier that morning, I remarked to my wife that we’d been traveling around the U.S. for more than a month and hadn’t really made a single new friend or, for that matter, even had a very substantive conversation with anyone other than people I was interviewing for a story.

This realization came to me after noticing that a friend we had met on the Greek island of Patmos a few months before had posted a photo of his cat on my Facebook page. Seeing Vlachos the Cat made me think of all the friends we made while traveling in Italy and Greece over a three-month period earlier this year. Now that we were back in the good old USA, how come we weren’t meeting people on our home turf?We were in Manchester, Vermont and had just parked our car in front of a breakfast place we were about to patronize when the scruffy looking guy that I had decided not to avoid parked his bike across the street and ambled over to our car.

“You’re from Virginia?” he asked, noticing our license plate.

“We spent the last two years in Falls Church,” I said.

“I hate Virginia,” he said. “You should move here.”

The man introduced himself as Chris and he and I got to talking, as my wife tried to corral my two young sons, who were playing on the sidewalk. In about 15 minutes, Chris told me the Cliff Notes story of his life. After graduating from college in the ’70s he walked across the state of Ohio to meet Ralph Nader because he wanted to work for the Green Party and thought that might impress him.

In the ’80s, he gravitated to Arlington, Virginia, but hated it there, so he moved to a town called Strasburg in the Shenandoah region based on his desire to live in the “real Virginia.”

“I hated that goddamn place,” he said. “I’ve never seen more ignorant, backward people in my entire life.”

It seemed as though Chris had stopped to talk to us primarily because he wanted to vent a little about our adopted home state, but I didn’t mind because our morning had just gotten a bit more interesting. Chris moved to Manchester earlier this year and said he’d found paradise. He said he was “hoping to get into environmental engineering,” and I loved the fact that at his age he was still wondering what to do with his life.

“Don’t let the high home prices here in town fool you,” he said. “I just picked up a log cabin, a little primitive but not bad, for 80k, about 20 minutes away from here.”

Eventually, we parted company but I was glad that I stopped to talk, or mostly listen, to Chris. The friends you make while traveling might not become lifelong buddies but if I don’t meet people when I’m traveling I feel a little like I’ve missed something. When I think back to my favorite trips, I tend to remember the people I’ve met more than the things I’ve seen.

After talking to Chris, I thought about how we had made so many friends in the Mediterranean and realized that the reason we weren’t making friends on the road in the U.S. wasn’t because people here are less friendly or approachable. It was us and how we were traveling. Here are a few thoughts on making friends while on the road.

Get out of your car. In three months on the road in the Mediterranean, we rented cars for a grand total of just two weeks and, while not having a car can be an inconvenience in some places, it also creates opportunities to meet people. We met loads of people on trains, buses and ferries and a few more while mooching rides to places we couldn’t get to on public transport.

Trying to visit places in the U.S. without a car is a lot harder than it is in many other parts of the world but you can still park your car and sightsee on foot or bike more often than you might think. When you’re driving around seeing things inside your car, you obviously aren’t going to meet anyone.

Brings kids and/or dogs. OK, I admit that bringing small children on a trip isn’t the most relaxing way to spend your holiday, and a lot of hotels don’t allow dogs, but kids and dogs are great conversation starters.

Don’t be in a rush. People who know me know that I have a hard time with this one. Americans have a tendency to travel like cheetahs on amphetamines. We want to cover 12 countries in 6 days and see everything that’s listed in our guidebook. That’s a surefire recipe for not meeting anyone.

Don’t get too comfortable. When we travel to another country, especially if we don’t know the local language, we are in many ways helpless. We need to seek people out to ask them how to get places and how to do things, but when you’re in your own country, you’re a lot more self-sufficient.

Here in the U.S., we have a GPS and I have a phone that allows me to pull up restaurant reviews or anything else I need in a moment. I like that technology, but it also robs us of the chance to stop and ask people for help, directions and recommendations. Use the technology, but still stop and ask someone if the route your GPS suggests is a good one, or if the good reviews you read about on Yelp are legit.

Stay in small hotels or bed and breakfast places. When visiting large U.S. cities, we have a tendency to stay in big chain hotels, but if you seek out smaller, independent places you can get to know your hosts – who are often very interesting people. In Italy, we made friends with landlords who rented us apartments in Spoleto, Perugia and Lecce and they helped give us insights into their hometowns, and in Greece, we became friendly with a host of couples that ran the small hotels we stayed in.

Some bed and breakfasts in the U.S. don’t welcome families with small children but if you do your homework you can find family-friendly establishments.

Become a journalist, if only for a day. Blog about your travels and use your site as an excuse to interview people you want to talk to.

Split from your group at least once. Solo travelers are more approachable and when you travel as a couple or a group, you tend to rely on each other for conversation. At least once or twice on any trip, split up from your party for at least a half day and see what happens. When you reconvene, you’ll enjoy each other’s company all the more so.

Make the effort. This is really the most important rule. We managed to sleepwalk through a month of travel in the U.S. largely because we were a self-contained unit, dependent only on each other, traveling by car and mostly staying in large hotels. Strike up conversations with people and don’t assume that everyone that approaches you is hoping to save your soul or fleece you.

[Photos of strangers met on the road by Dave Seminara]