Locks of love cover Cologne’s Hohenzollern Bridge

by Libby Zay on

Love locks are a romantic symbol of true love: Walk across a bridge with your sweetheart, affix a lock scrawled with your names to the structure, and then toss the key into the river below.

The tradition is said to have originated on the Ponte Milivio in Italy, but from Australia to Uruguay the practice has caught on. I found these on the Hohenzollern Bridge in Cologne, an overpass that is becoming so packed with padlocks the bridge’s operator has threatened to saw them off. After public outcry over the matter, the company was forced to have – you guessed it – a change of heart.

From near and far, the love locks add a little glitter to a bridge that is otherwise gritty and dull. But up close its not always picture perfect: there were a few spots where fence wires were cut, perhaps in an effort to release scorned lovers of their shackles. Two little boys crossed the bridge tugging on the padlocks as they went along, trying to shake them loose (ladies, watch out – the heartbreaking starts early!). Below the bridge, I was actually surprised there weren’t vendors hawking padlocks to tourists for 20 euros a pop. I guess there are some things that are still sacred.

Click through the gallery to see more padlocks on the Hohenzollern Bridge in Cologne, and let me know where else you’ve found them below!

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[Photos by Libby Zay]

Book review: Quiet Corners of Rome

by Jeremy Kressmann on

Travel guidebooks conceive of the world as a series of obvious, important monuments. This is particularly true of a brash and magnificent city like Rome. Your typical traveler could be forgiven for simplifying this complex historic capital down to a giant marble stadium, a series of famous steps and giant chapel mural. But writer David Downie reminds us there’s a lot more to Rome than its monuments. In fact, Downie argues, Rome is a city best savored through its secret places: the sensual and contemplative spaces unknown to the average visitor.

In his new book, Quiet Corners of Rome, Downie (a Gadling contributor) treats us to an insider’s tour of over 60 of Rome’s hidden spaces based on years of exploration. What he reveals is a city that is not about grand monuments, but instead the spaces in between: quiet courtyards punctuated by burbling fountains and the fresh scent of pine, the distant vibration of church bells in a shady courtyard and ancient stone plazas bedecked with intricate architectural details. Each sight is accompanied by a serene photo taken by photographer Alison Harris. It’s less a tourist guide than a dictionary of intimate discoveries and pleasant surprises – a sprawling, overwhelming city made personable, particular and specific.

Looking for a guide to Rome’s greatest and grandest sights? This is not that book. What Quiet Corners of Rome accomplishes however, is something altogether more authentic. It’s a highly personal, approachable and enjoyable way experience one of our favorite places as it was meant to be experienced: by cherishing every hidden nook and secret city view.

Launchpad London: Nicosia logistics

by Alex Robertson Textor on

Though largely bypassed by Americans, Cyprus is a very popular warm weather destination for Britons and other northern Europeans. Cypriot coastal resort towns include Ayia Napa, Larnaca, Limassol, Paphos, and Protaras. Planeloads of sun-hunters descend on Cyprus throughout much of the year; the island occupies a kind of sunny mid-haul position not unlike the place of the Caribbean and Mexico for many Americans.

For my second budget-friendly Launchpad London excursion I bypassed the coastal strip altogether and ventured instead to Nicosia, the divided city serving as the capital of both the Republic of Cyprus as well as the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus–the latter recognized only by Turkey.

Cyprus is served well by a range of airlines from London. From one or another of London’s four big airports, Larnaca in the southeast is reached by British Airways (Heathrow), Cyprus Airways (Heathrow), easyJet (Gatwick), Monarch (Gatwick and Luton), and Thomas Cook (Gatwick, Heathrow, and Stansted). Paphos in the southwest is served by Cyprus Airways (Heathrow), Monarch (Gatwick), Thomas Cook (Gatwick, Luton, Stansted), Thomson (Gatwick, Luton, Stansted), and Tor Air (Gatwick), while Ercan in the north sees indirect traffic from London Stansted courtesy of Pegasus Airlines.

I chose Monarch for my jaunt last week from London Gatwick to Larnaca because it was very cheap: £108 round trip, purchased, remarkably, just 12 days prior to departure. Once the credit card surcharge was taken into account, my grand total came to £113 ($182). I managed to hold onto that fare by refusing all the extras Monarch threw my way: reserved seats, meals, flight status texts, and insurance.

Between Larnaca and Nicosia there is an affordable shuttle van by Kapnos Airport Shuttle, just €7 to an anonymous parking lot in the south of the city. From there, it’s fifteen minutes by taxi (€10) into Nicosia’s Old Town.

Budget hotels are thin on the ground on both sides of the Green Line, the island’s buffer zone. Though I knew I would spend time on both sides of the Green Line, I researched hotels in south Nicosia only. Two fine business-class midrange hotels in south Nicosia’s Old Town are Royiatiko, where I booked my single room (€110 for a double) and Centrum Hotel (€99 for a double). Averof, 15 minutes from the Old Town by foot, is also well-liked (€60 for a double without breakfast). Airbnb lists a number of budget rooms in Nicosia. Rather unfortunately, none of these had a sufficient number of photos or reviews to make me feel confident about making a reservation.

Restaurants are reasonably priced. I snacked at cafes for €3 and had an unremarkable lunch for €10. My dinner at a fine Cypriot restaurant was considerably more expensive, though far cheaper than a simple lunch in most cities in Western Europe–and with gargantuan portions, to boot. A meze meal at Zanettos is big enough to do service as lunch and dinner. I counted 17 plates, some groaning with a range of delicious things. There were strips of liver, snails, mushrooms, eggs in tomato sauce, and plenty of greens. Along with an enormous bottle of KEO, the local beer, my outlay came to €23.

Visit Gadling tomorrow to read my two-day Nicosia culture break itinerary.

Iceland volcano cancels flights

by Sean McLachlan on


Here we go again.

After last year’s misery from the Eyjafjallajökull eruption, now another Icelandic volcano, Grimsvötn, is causing a new round of worries.

More than 250 flights have already been canceled as a cloud of volcanic ash blows over Scotland. Most of Ireland, northern Wales, and northern England will see the ash later today.

Several Scottish airports have been affected, including major ones such as Edinburgh and Glasgow. Other airports that will likely have problems today include Londonderry, Prestwick, Durham Tees Valley, Newcastle, and Carlisle. Officials say the cloud should move on and flights from Edinburgh and Glasgow will resume this afternoon. Airports in the far north of Scotland should get the all-clear tomorrow. Of course, that’s assuming there are no more eruptions or changes in the wind.

Luckily the wind has taken much of the ash away from populated areas, over the far north Atlantic, eastern Greenland, and north of Scandinavia.

Several airlines are not flying through Scottish airspace. You can see a full list here. Since the northerly route between Europe and North America passes through the ash cloud, transatlantic flights may have to be diverted, causing delays. Check ahead before going to the airport.

So far this doesn’t look like another Eyjafjallajökull. The Grimsvötn eruption is smaller and the ash particles are bigger, meaning they fall to earth more quickly instead of hanging in the atmosphere for days.

Have your travel plans been affected by the Grimsvötn eruption? Tell us about it in the comments section!

[Photo courtesy Roger McLassus]

Salt, wine, and wealth in Spain’s Basque region

by Sean McLachlan on


In the modern world we don’t give much thought to salt. We casually pick some up in the supermarket or tear open a packet at a café, but in the past salt was a vital and sought-after commodity. Everyone needed it for preserving food and as a source for iodine. Nobody could live without it and those who controlled its supply became rich and powerful.

The Basque region of Spain was a major supplier of salt thanks to a strange legacy dating back 220 million years. The remains of an oceanic deposit of salt lie close to the surface at Salinas de Añana. People have been digging up salt here for at least 5,000 years. Our hiking group is visiting this valley. We see pipes channeling saline water onto platforms, where the water evaporates and leaves behind a salty crust. The water has 250 grams of salt per liter. By way of comparison, the Mediterranean has only 40 grams per liter. The Dead Sea has 350 grams per liter and is so salty you can float on it.

The salt is ultrapure and highly prized by top restaurants. Despite this, international competition from more affordable brands has led to a decline in business. Fifty years ago there were some 5,500 salt platforms. Now there are only 45. Yet the workers at Salinas de Añana have carved out a niche for themselves and are hoping their traditional extraction process will get the valley named a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

%Gallery-124223%Leaving the salt valley behind, we follow the old Salt Trail through rolling fields punctuated by forest. We circle Arreo Lake and come to Fontecha, a town made rich by salt. Back in the Middle Ages, salt meant wealth, and wealth meant power. Two huge towers glower over the little town, erected by rival families from the money and influence the salt trade gave them. Sadly, both are being worked on and are closed to visitors. Instead we stop for lunch at a terraza, the outdoor seating of a local café. Sitting at terrazas is a favorite pastime in all regions of Spain. Sip some wine, talk to friends, and watch the world go by. It’s a nice way to spend an afternoon or relax after a hike.

More wine comes that night when we visit Bodega El Fabulista in the hilltop town of La Guardia. This is in La Rioja region, where Spain’s best wine comes from. An employee takes us down into the cool cellars, where vaulted stone ceilings shelter orderly rows of oaken barrels. The air is a constant 11-13°C (52-55°F) and 85% humidity. The barrels are made of various types of oak to lend the wine distinct flavors. The amount of time the wine is left in the barrels is critical for its rating: crianza wine spends a minimum of 12 months in oaken barrels, reserva needs 15 months, and gran reserva spends 5 five years in the winery and at least two years in the barrel.

This is all very interesting, but I’m getting anxious to sample some good old Spanish vino. I have some more waiting to do because as we stand glass in hand, the wine temptingly close, we’re treated to another lecture. This time it’s about tasting wine. When a waiter opens a bottle for you and pours out a little for you to check, there’s no need to actually drink some. Smell it to make sure it hasn’t turned to vinegar, and look at it to make sure no bits of cork are floating in it.

Next we examine the wine’s “crown”. If you tip the wine a little while holding it over a white surface, you can examine its edge. The color tells you how old it is. Young wine has a purple edge. As the wine ages it gradually darkens, until with gran reserva it looks brown. Finally we’re allowed to taste it, and everyone holds forth on their observations about its accents and flavors and subtlety. I suppose I could too, but I know very little about wine (I’ve always tasted it to check it, and until now I had no clear idea what crianza meant) so I’ll spare you the pontification and just say that to my uneducated palate, Rioja wine, especially that from El Fabulista, is delicious.

Wandering through the narrow, winding streets of this medieval town we see that wine, like salt, meant wealth and power in the old days. Many houses are adorned with ornate family crests, and the town gives off an aura of money and social standing. Rioja wine is drunk all across Spain. While the salt from Salinas de Añana has become a specialist product for connoisseurs, Rioja has a major market share in a country that demands quality wine.

Don’t miss the rest of my series: Beyond Bilbao: Hiking through the Basque region.

This trip was sponsored by Country Walkers. The views expressed in this series, however, are entirely my own.