The n-word, the g-word and the hidden perils of travel

by Sean McLachlan on

Living in Spain, I get a lot of questions about the United States. One of the most common, and certainly the most disturbing, is if it’s OK to use the N-word.

Let me just say from the outset that I think the term “N-word” is silly. By using it you immediately think of the word I’m trying not to say so, in a sense, I’ve actually said it. On the other hand, if I actually used the word n—–, Gadling would fire my ass, and they’d be right to.

N—– is getting more and more common on American TV shows that get broadcast here. The Wire uses it in almost every scene. Most Spaniards realize it’s a bad word, but are confused to hear it used on TV by whites and blacks alike. I’ve had to explain on more than one occasion that it hasn’t become OK. At least it isn’t OK with this white boy. I don’t think it’s OK for black people to use either, but they’re probably not interested in my opinion.

Now anybody with two brain cells to rub together knows TV isn’t reality, but if you’ve never been to a country before, TV is probably the main way you know about it. The average European has spent far more time watching American TV than talking to actual Americans. Like the guy I met in a bar who was about to go to the U.S. for the first time and used n—— during our conversation. He wasn’t a racist, he just thought the word was OK now. I’m glad I got to talk to him before he got his butt kicked.

I had a similar experience when I spent two months living in Harar, Ethiopia. I was researching a book on Ethiopian history and kept coming across a name for a tribe called the G—-. This word appears in many English-language books about Ethiopia, including many modern ones. One day I was chewing qat with my friend Mohammed Jami Guleid (harartourguide @gmail.com) a local guide and historian, in a small village near Harar. Casually I asked him, “Who are the G—-?”

Mohammed gave me a look like I had just farted in a mosque.”Where did you hear that word?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s in a lot of books. Some mentioned that the G—- live around Harar.”

“We’re in an Oromo village!” he said, eyes wide.

“So?” I said, confused.

Mohammed shook his head and explained, “It’s an old term for Oromo given to them by the Emperor Menelik. Don’t use it. It’s very insulting. It’s the most insulting thing you can say.”

So insulting, in fact, that I’m not writing it here. Of course, Gadling wouldn’t fire me for using the G-word because the Oromo don’t have any political power in the United States, but respect is respect.

Menelik conquered Harar in 1887 and proceeded to starve the surrounding Oromo clans into submission. About half the population died. Needless to say, the Oromo don’t think very highly of Menelik, even though he’s a hero to many other Ethiopians because he smashed the Italian army at the Battle of Adowa in 1896. Different people see history differently because they experienced it differently. Something to remember the next time Black History Month rolls by.

So when preparing for a trip, it’s important to do your homework and understand the different ethnic groups in that country, otherwise you may inadvertently cause offense by saying something you heard on television, or in my case read in a bunch of history books written by people who should have known better!

If you’re going to Ethiopia and are worried about the G-word, drop me a line privately and I’ll fill you in on the word you can’t say. And if you write out the full word for n—– or G—- in the comments section, I’ll delete it as soon as I see it.

[Photo of Ice-T, who uses the n-word waaaaay too much, is courtesy Steve Rapport]

The Polish Spa Town That Time Forgot

by David Farley on
Set in the pine-laden Beskid Sadecki mountains in southern Poland and not far from the Slovakian border, Krynica attracts hordes of tourists. The town’s long promenade is the center of action: flanked by the usual 19th-century Central European spa town Art Deco and neo-classical architecture, the promenade is frequented by water-sipping strollers, purple-haired geriatrics who like to pass out on park benches, and mustached men trying to convince passersby that they really want a photo-op with a sad-looking monkey on a chain or a depressed miniature horse. There are no backpackers or even flashpackers or jetsetters here.

Nearly all of the hordes of tourists in Krynica come to parade their diseases down the promenade, sipping the apparently healing mineral water that bubbles up from springs, and awaiting their next spa treatment. The reason? This town of 11,000 people is one of Poland’s most popular heath resorts. The Polish spa town that time forgot.


How many Poles does it take to make a spa town flourish? In the case of Krynica, the answer is just one. When Jozef Dietl, the father of Polish balneology (the science of the medical application of baths) declared in 1856 that the town’s natural mineral springs were curative, Krynica became the center of sanative relief for this Central European country. It’s not a place for the young, or even the young at heart. The nightlife scene, for example, is mostly limited to several dancehalls, where visitors party like it’s 1949.
I didn’t have a disease, but I did have an assignment from a magazine editor who was working on a European spa package article. When she found out I was going to be in Poland for another assignment, she came to me with orders: “Just go to Krynica and spend the day getting spa treatments.” I’ve never been into spa travel. I usually go somewhere for a singular reason: to eat (and then write about it) or just because I’m curious about the place, but I never gravitate toward this kind of pampering.

But here I was, sitting on a bench reading a brochure about what was in store for me. Krynica-Zdroj, as it’s officially called, is historically known for treating illnesses of the stomach, diabetes, menstrual cycle disturbances, and, according to the brochure, “states after conservative operations of genital organ.” As I watched geriatric spa goers limp by on the promenade, I feared the worst.

Taking my editor’s orders, I marched into the spa at the ’70s theme park Panorama Hotel and steeled myself. I scanned the menu of treatments, many of which seemed incomprehensible and some almost seemed like a threat. Measurement of Pressure? The President’s Armchair? The Scottish Whip? I didn’t want to ask. Instead, I blindly pointed to a small handful of treatments on the list.

A frumpy women in her early 60s whisked me into a white-tiled room and fired a slew of Polish orders at me. I only understood her hand gestures: disrobe. When I got down to my boxers, she put up the palm of her hand to halt right there and then waved me to stand against the wall. Ten seconds later, this granny was blasting two high-pressured water streams at me. I felt less like I was getting treated for a disease and more like I was a victim of the Sluzba Bezpieczenstwa, the communist-era secret police. After a few more minutes of punishing high-pressure water, I was escorted into a massage room. The strapping, blond Zoltan explained he was going to give me a “sport massage,” which in Polish massage speak meant he’d be punishing my back and shoulders for 45 minutes. As Zoltan pounded and punched away, grunting and breathing heavy, his sweat dropping on me, I wondered who was getting more out of this: me or him. When he was done abusing my back, he let me go to a hot whirlpool so I could soak off the pain that was just inflicted on me by the water-firing granny and Zoltan. Eventually, my spa day ended with the President’s Armchair: a leather chair with what felt like a bowling ball inside moving up and down my back, as speakers in the headrest blasted Polish rock.


Celebrating the end of my day’s worth of torture, I ate surprisingly artery hardening, yet delicious pork-stuffed potato pancakes and cheese-filled pierogis.

I hopped back on the bus to Krakow early the next morning hoping that I never come back to Krynica. Or, rather, that I never have a real reason to come back.

Archaeologists explore “Pompeiis” in Bulgaria and El Salvador

by Sean McLachlan on


Pompeii is an archaeological wonder, an entire Roman town preserved by a volcanic eruption. Now archaeologists are investigating two other “Pompeiis” to learn more about the past.

In El Salvador, a team has discovered a village dating to c. 630 AD that was covered in volcanic ash. Joya de Ceren was sealed up so well that archaeologists have been able to examine corn cobs, the logs used to build homes, and even the paths leading through the village and how crops were planted.

Archaeology is generally biased towards big sites, both because they’re easier to find and because it’s easier to get funding to excavate them. Finding a small village that was inhabited by only 100-200 commoners helps us understand how the other half lived. The village has been declared a World Heritage Site.

At the Roman city of Nikopolis ad Istrum in Bulgaria, an archaeological team is working on another “Pompeii”. This Roman city was never buried in a volcanic eruption but it’s so well preserved, scientists make the comparison anyway. An archaeological team is exploring a temple to Cybele, a mother goddess.

I’ve been to Nikopolis ad Istrum and was very impressed. The city was founded by the Emperor Trajan around 101-106 AD. It was a major center of trade and culture until Attila the Hun trashed it in 447 AD. So it goes. Attila wasn’t very thorough and the town soon flourished again under the Byzantines. Today you can walk the streets, see the foundations of many buildings and even spot some of their decoration. You can even trace the sewers, which are a lot less stinky than they used to be.

[Photo courtesy Klearchos Kapoutsis]

National Geographic celebrates the last space shuttle mission ever

by Kraig Becker on

Yesterday morning, at 11:30 AM Eastern Time, the Space Shuttle Atlantis blasted off on the last shuttle mission ever. For fans and proponents of space exploration, it was a bittersweet moment to say the least. To celebrate what truly is the end of an era, National Geographic has updated their Space Shuttle Hub page with a look back at the storied vehicle’s tragic and triumphant history.

At various times, NASA‘s fleet of space shuttles has included five different vehicles, including the Columbia, Challenger, Discovery, Atlantis, and Endeavor. The Nat Geo page covers all of them, and even has articles discussing the two orbiters that were lost – the Challenger, which exploded shortly after take-off back in 1986 and Columbia, which tragically burned up on re-entry in 2003. Other articles celebrate the many achievements of the shuttle program over the three decades they have been in service however, giving the remaining three vehicles the final send-off they richly deserve.

During this final flight of the Atlantis, National Geographic space editor Victoria Jaggard will also be posting regular blog updates on the progress of the mission. She has already covered the launch and will continue to add more thoughts and commentary until the shuttle returns to Earth in about two weeks time.

Tomorrow, the Atlantis is scheduled to rendezvous with the International Space Station one final time. While there, the astronauts on board will resupply the ISS and perform routine maintenance on the station, which will be serviced by Russian Soyuz spacecraft in the foreseeable future.

Top five bars to get a (great) drink in Telluride, Colorado

by Laurel Miller on

To borrow a phrase, Telluride (and I mean this in the best possible way) is a little drinking town with a big ski problem. I’ve lived there off and on since 2005, and recently returned for a visit for the first time in two years.

Telluride–a former mining town–has never had a shortage of places to imbibe, but getting a well-made cocktail for under ten bucks is another story. Fortunately, there are a few old standbys as well as some new blood in town that hit just the right mix of ambiance, quality, and price.

Bonus: With just one exception, they’re all frequented by locals, so you can escape the tourist scene and get a true taste of Telluride. Just don’t wear a spanking new cowboy hat or boots, heels, or a starched button-down. This town is strictly casual, year round.

And a word of warning: You’ll feel the effects of alcohol more at altitude (Telluride is at 8,725 feet). Go easy, drink tons of water, and remember that one drink has the cumulative effect of two at this height. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

1. La Marmotte
Located one block east of the gondola, unassumingly nestled against the base of the mountain, this adorable, cozy, convivial restaurant is a dying breed: the classic French Alpine restaurant. Actually, it’s the historic Ice House, one of the oldest buildings in town, but inside, it’s dark, romantic, and surprisingly lively.

For over 20 years, “The Marmot” has featured well-rendered French country classics such as Coq au Vin and French Onion Soup, along with more contemporary versions. The 3-course, $35 prix fixe is the best deal in town, but if it’s just a drink you’re looking for, you also can’t go wrong. Take a seat on a stool at the tiny front bar, and have the friendly bartender (no ski town attitude here) pour you a glass off the thoughtful wine list, or whip you up a cocktail, such as the house-infused beet martini (trust me).2. New Sheridan Bar/New Sheridan Hotel and Chop House Restaurant
A part of the famed New Sheridan hotel, this 1895 saloon is one of the oldest in the West, although the entire property underwent a major remodel a couple of years ago. Opt for cocktails, straight-up spirits, or beer at the dedicated bar (pool tables are in the back), which features its original mahogany paneling and filigree light fixtures. Happy Hour tends to attract visitors and locals (usually an older crowd) alike: it’s hard to pass up the wickedly strong five-dollar cocktail specials.

In the adjacent hotel lobby bar known as The Parlor, locals meet up for a glass or bottle of wine from one of the best lists in town (Wine Spectator has given it their Award of Excellence multiple times). Alternatively, grab a seat at the Chophouse’s beautiful long bar (my pick on where to eat/sit when I’ve got some extra cash), order some starters and a drink, and enjoy the good life side of Telluride.

3. Allred’s
The aforementioned tourist magnet, Allred’s is located at the top of the San Sophia gondola station, at 10,551 feet. Walking into the bar or adjacent dining room, both of which have giant windows, it’s easy to see why visitors (and locals celebrating special occasions or just a particularly gorgeous sunset) shell out the big bucks to dine here. The entire town lies spread out below you, and the view includes waterfalls, red cliffs, evergreen forest, and the last snow clinging to the peaks across the valley. Try a glass of sparkling wine, a special house cocktail such as the pear basil swizzle (Grey Goose Pear Vodka, basil, soda water, and lime, $11), or, if you’re visiting in winter, one of the many excellent hot toddies on offer.

4. there…
Not everything in town is historic. This tiny space, tucked away on a side street in the residential “West End,” has been a pizza parlor, a Himalayan restaurant, and a longtime vacant space in the last five years. In December, it became a bar/Asian small bites spot, and reliably draws crowds for the creative cocktails and delicious, four-dollar steamed duck or pork buns (give the rest of the food a miss, ditto the silly and pretentious “jam drinks”). The decor is a schizophrenic mix of gorgeous Old West restoration with a hint of butt-ugly pop art, but super-fly bartender Oshane mixes up a mean house cocktail. He’s so gracious and charming, you won’t be able to resist coming back (the pork buns don’t hurt, either).

5. The Last Dollar Saloon (aka, “The Buck”)
PBR is King in Telluride, but you can also count on a reliably stiff drink at Telluride’s most classic bar, built in 1899: Don’t let your buzz distract you from details like the original stamped tin ceiling. TGIF is one of the best times to go if you want to mingle with locals (don’t expect a sober crowd) or see live music; The Buck is reliably packed weekend nights during the summer. My happy place is the corner table at the front, where the giant plate glass windows provide an aquarium view of Main Street.

5.5 O’Bannon’s Irish Pub (“OB’s”)
I can’t in good conscience write about drinking in Telluride without mentioning one of my favorite bars of all time, anywhere on the planet. Yes, it’s a hellhole, but if you really want to get down and dirty with the locals, no visit to Telluride is complete without a visit (if not a lost weekend) to OB’s. Plus, there’s a pool table and great juke. R.I.P., Harry (Force, the late owner).

[Photo credit: Laurel Miller]

See the New Sheridan Bar (those are actors, FYI) in this recent Coors ad.