Gadling reads the Sunday travel sections

by Jeffrey White on

I don’t think that the New York Times’s TMagazine probably counts as a Sunday section, but the Spring 2009 edition has just been published and it amounts to some of the better travel reads you’re going to find on the Internet these days.

I especially enjoyed John Wray’s long piece from Liechtenstein, the best thing I found online this weekend. He captures the oddness of this little principality — home to secretive banks, a thriving postal stamp industry and not much else — wonderfully. Liechtenstein’s smallness (it’s the sixth smallest country in the world) in fact is a boon to travel there: Where else can you go from the rugged Alps to a lush valley in about, oh, 10 minutes? You can see a lot of diversity in a small space, and what Wray probably gets the most right is how the sheer size of this place shapes the way people there view the outside world. Reading the piece made be remember my time in Liechtenstein: An exhilarating bike ride I once took from the high alpine town of Malbun to Triesen, screaming downhill all the way and hardly touching my brakes, and the sound of cowbells clinking in the dark of night as I walked late between Liechtenstein’s capital, Vaduz, and Schaan, its largest city (in Liechtenstein, it’s nothing to walk between towns and cities).
Judged against this piece — in other words, travel writing as a real window to a foreign place — this weekend’s travel sections were a little lame.

Still, although I’ve tauted the Financial Times in the past as a good place to look for travel narratives, I’m liking its weekend section more and more as time goes by. Today Oliver Balch travels in the footsteps of a Chilean poet I’d never heard of, Gabriela Mistral, and the result is an interesting journey through Chile’s Elqui Valley.

The best descriptive turn of phrase this weekend goes to Amanda Jones in the LA Times, where she details a trek through Morocco’s Atlas Mountains, a range she says looks like a “poorly healed scar” if viewed from above.

The New York Times’ proper travel section has a few stories. Matt Gross, the “Frugal Traveler,” reports on the best dining deal in Northern Italy — aperitivi, the tables of delicious, free snacks that cafes and bars set out on around Happy Hour time that in some places, notably Milan, can amount to a whole meal. Costa Rica’s days as an unknown travel destination are long gone, but writers still flock to it for those “this country has it all” kinds of stories. Ethan Todras-Whitehall is only the latest, with his dispatch about heading there with his father. Michelle Higgins asks, ala Jon Krakauer and Mt. Everest, whether Antarctica isn’t getting a little too popular with tourists.

This seemed to be the weekend of writers loafing about on expensive safaris. The worst of the bunch is Shoba Narayan’s hunt for tigers and elephant’s in India published in the Washington Post. As if trying a little too hard to counter the recent “Slumdog Millionaire” hype, Narayan — who, we’re told, lives in Bangalore! — shows us an India of luxury resorts and comfy, Land Rover safaris during which you really have to be careful not to spill your masala chai on yourself. Fundamentally I don’t mind this, it’s just that she goes out of her way to brag about how expensive her amenities are (upwards of $800-$900 a night in one case). This makes the whole piece both seem rather insensitive to the realities of India (and I’m not talking ‘Slumdog’ here) and smack of a paid junket.

And then there is this sentence early in the dispatch about her resort: “I felt absurdly happy because of an additional amenity: The laundry service was free, or rather, it was included in Aman-i-Khas’s stratospheric rates.” Really, Shoba?!

David Abel fairs better during a journey across Southern Africa for the Boston Globe.

Back in the States, the Philadelphia Inquirer gets a jump start on spring by telling you how to enjoy the cherry blossoms of Washington, DC, soon to hit their glorious peak (and cherry blossom season in the District is really something to behold).

Finally, I headed over to the Miami Herald to see if travel writer/editor Jane Wooldridge had been anywhere interesting. I’ve admired her work in the past, and was hopeful at seeing her blog, Travels with Jane. Seeing a dispatch from a cruise conference and not much else, it seems Jane is maintaining a blog about the act of not traveling.

Product review – Lubix L’Bubb Bluetooth stereo adapter for the iPod

by Scott Carmichael on

Last month I wrote a 5-in-1 Bluetooth headset review. One of the products in that lineup was the Lubix UBHS-NC1 stereo headset. In that product description, I mentioned a matching iPod Bluetooth stereo adapter, which I’m going to review for you today.

The Lubix L’Bubb (yeah, that really is the name!) is a small dongle that plugs into the bottom of your iPod or iPhone, and streams the audio output of your player to any Bluetooth stereo device. What this means, is that you can keep your iPod in your pocket or bag, and listen to (and control) your music wirelessly.
The dongle is quite small, and receives its power from the dock connector on your iPod. For this review, I tested it with several Bluetooth devices, including the UBHS-NC1.

Sound quality is very easy to describe – I could not notice a single difference between wired headphones or wireless. The adapter features the SRS Wow HD sound enhancing technology, which can be turned on or off.

To get a little technical – the L’Bubb works using the Bluetooth “A2DP” protocol, which refers to the standard for Bluetooth stereo transmissions. In addition to this, it supports the “AVRCP” service, used to control the music (play, pause and track skips).

There are several really big advantages to using Bluetooth stereo – the main one is of course to get rid of those stupid white iPod cords hanging out of your ears. The second one is in my opinion more important – it keeps your iPod out of harms way, and does not let everyone know you are carrying a $300 music player.

Finally, one great additional feature is the multipoint system built into most Bluetooth headsets – this allows you to connect to your iPod and mobile phone (if it supports Bluetooth) at the same time. You listen to music, and when a call comes in, you can pick it up on the same headset. When you are done with your call, you hang up, and continue listening to music.

There are one or two disadvantages as well – your player will not last as long when you are streaming music using the dongle. On my iPod Nano I noticed a drop in battery life of a couple of hours, which still leaves almost a day of non stop playtime. Then there is of course the issue of battery life of the headphones themselves – the batteries in the UBHS-NC1 will last about 5 hours, so you will need to recharge them every day if you plan to use them on your daily commute.

My only minor complaint with the L’Bubb iPod stereo Bluetooth adapter (besides the silly name) is that the dongle does not allow you to charge the iPod while it is plugged in.

The Lubix L’Bubb costs $50 and the UBHS-NC1 is $54. But, if you purchase the headset and Bluetooth adapter at the same time, you only pay $84!

Galley Gossip: The Gift of Fear (on and off the airplane)

by Heather Poole on

Out of nowhere you feel it – fear. You’re not sure why you feel it, and because it doesn’t make sense, at least not yet, you choose to ignore it. Perhaps you just don’t want to be rude or look stupid in an effort to avoid whatever it is you can’t quite grasp that is scaring you. Well I’m here to tell you there could be a very good reason you’re afraid, and it doesn’t always have to make sense and it’s okay to look stupid or act rude, even if you are a woman. Better safe than sorry, I say.

Two years after I first started flying in 1995, the airline I work for sent out a newsletter with a little blurb about an interesting sounding book called The Gift of Fear, by Gavin De Becker. I bought the book and several years later it’s still one of my favorites. De Becker discusses what it means to be fearful and how that fear is truly a gift. If you trust it. Some people call it a sixth sense. Whatever it is; a shiver down your spine, hair standing up on the back of your neck, a lump at the bottom of your stomach, something has alerted your senses. You shouldn’t ignore it. That fear could very well save your life.

One of the first stories Gavin shares is about a pilot who enters a convenience store and then immediately walks right back out because his sixth sense told him to leave. The pilot had no idea the store was being robbed, but when De Becker asked the pilot why exactly he left, the pilot said he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. De Gavin pressed the pilot for more details, and soon the pilot realized what really triggered his reaction; a man wearing a winter coat in the middle of summer, customers all turning to stare at him when he walked through the door. All these clues came at the pilot so quickly, he couldn’t make sense of why he felt the way he felt, but he trusted his gut and got out there quickly.

So why did the cop who walked into the very same convenience store seconds later not feel the same way the pilot did? Because when the customers in the store spotted the cop, relief swept over them, replacing fear, which may have been why the cop did not pick up on what was going on quickly enough to prevent him from getting shot.

Remember Richard Reid, the shoe bomber? At flight attendant recurrent training we learned there was something about the man that made each flight attendant on his flight take note of him right away. For some reason those flight attendants got an uneasy feeling the minute he walked onto the airplane. But no one said a word to each other. At least not until the ordeal was over. If you feel a little uneasy about a certain situation, tell someone. If someone tells you they feel a little weird about a certain situation, listen. I know I do.

Fear on the airplane: A few years ago a passenger on one of my flights from New York to Los Angeles caught my eye. Constantly he kept getting up to use the bathroom, and once behind the locked lavatory door he stayed there for an unusually long amount of time. When I tried to address him as he passed me by to get to his seat, he ignored me – several times.

“There’s a passenger making me a little nervous,” I told a fellow coworker. We were just about to begin the first beverage service.

“The one wearing a black polo shirt and dark sunglasses sitting in a middle seat near the front of the cabin who keeps getting up to use the lavatory?” my coworker asked, nonchalantly rearranging the napkins, stir sticks, and sugar.

Two hundred passengers aboard our flight that day and my coworker knew exactly who I’d been talking about. Coincidence? Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Because right after the passenger wearing the polo shirt returned to his seat, another passenger came running, literally running, down the aisle to the back of the aircraft.

“I’m sitting next to this guy and I can’t explain it, but he’s scaring me!” a young woman cried, literally, she was crying.

I handed her a Kleenex, assuring her I knew exactly who she spoke of and that we, the crew, were not only watching him, but we had already informed the cockpit who had contacted the ground. As soon as the words were out of my mouth another passenger walked into the galley.

Flashing a crew ID, the off duty flight attendant pulled me aside so no one else could hear and whispered, “I just want to let you know that there’s this guy…”

This guy, the one wearing a polo shirt who sat a few rows away from her, had made her nervous. Funny enough, he never did do anything wrong. Yet we continued to keep an eye on him. When we landed in L.A. the aircraft was met by several serious looking men and women dressed in dark suits. An FBI agent pulled me aside and asked a few questions. I told him everything, even though there wasn’t much to tell. Eventually the passenger in question was let go. But how strange is it that the one and only passenger we all feared had been issued a passport two days prior, had purchased a one way ticket with cash, and had a connecting flight to Florida where he said he was going to school?

Coincidence? You decide.

On a layover: Once at a layover hotel in a city I no longer remember, I signed in and collected my room key from the front desk in the hotel lobby. Because all the other flight attendants had gone up to their rooms to make the most of our short, nine hour, layover, I stood all alone in my uniform waiting for the elevator. Finally the doors opened wide and I stepped inside. A well dressed man holding a garment bag stood leaning against the mirrored wall. I smiled, and when I went to push the button, I noticed there were no other floors illuminated. Just mine. Immediately I felt a little weary.

When the elevator stopped at my floor, I stepped out, rolling my Travelpro bag behind me. So did the man with the garment bag. I took a left and quickly walked down the hallway. So did the man with the garment bag. My heart began to race. Because I’d read De Gavin’s book, and because I trusted my fear, I passed my room, continuing on down the short hallway to the big red sign that read Exit. The man continued to follow me. Once I reached the fire escape, I circled around and quickly passed the man, heading back to the elevator and down to the lobby to report the incident. Of course I got a new room. Sure, the man with garment bag could have been an innocent guy, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

Neither should you.

If you haven’t read The Gift of Fear, you really should. It’s an amazing book and I’ve recommended it to more passengers and flight attendants, particularly women, than any other book. What you read may one day save your life.

Through the Gadling Lens: the photoblogs of our Gadling photo pool contributors

by Karen Walrond on

Never let it be said that we don’t have amazing photographers who contribute to our Gadling Flickr pool. One of my favourite things to do is to just scroll through all the striking images — or better still, do searches within the pool for images of any of my upcoming travel destinations. Every time I do, I always learn something: something about a far-off land or culture, or I pick up a new trick for how to shoot a certain subject. The truth is, the Gadling Flickr pool makes me a better photographer.

As I was going through the pool today, I realized that I had a few favourite photographers — and I wondered to myself if these talented shutterbugs might have photoblogs to which I could subscribe, and follow them in my feed reader. Silly me for even doubting that this wouldn’t be the case. So this week, I thought I’d share with you some of the photoblogs my favourite photographers who contribute to the Gadling pool, so you can have a few new daily reads (and eye candy!) as you sip your morning coffee.
1. Ultraclay!

One of the most prolific contributors to our Flickr pool is the inimitable ultraclay!, whose work has been featured heavily both here on Through the Gadling Lens as well as our Photos of the Day. I’ve always loved ultraclay!’s images, since, in addition to being technically sound, are always provocative, from so many places in the world. So needless to say, I was thrilled to learn that ultraclay! also blogs, at ultraclay dot com, where you can see images from his home in Brooklyn, New York, as well as from his travels. This is one blog that’s definitely going into my feed reader.

2. LadyExpat

LadyExpat hasn’t contributed tons of images to our pool, but my heavens, what she has are positively stunning. According to her online journal, Musings from the Other Side, LadyExpat originally hails from Halifax, in Nova Scotia, Canada, but has been living in Asia since the beginning of this century. One look through her images reveals that she has a true eye for striking faces, stunning scenery, and capturing moments of everyday life. I’m thrilled she blogs, and features a “photo of the day,” as well. Be sure to check her site out.


3. Jon Rawlinson

Not surprisingly, the portrait above of a man from Botswana stopped me cold — what an amazing capture by photographer (and producer, and cameraman, and editor – whew!) Jon Rawlinson, and thank heavens he chooses to share his work in our Flickr pool. A quick look through is photostream will tell you that this photographer has an amazing facility with light, and colour and texture — I could spend weeks just studying each of his photographs. And happily, Jon has a website, Jon Rawlinson Productions, where he also blogs, and shares some more of his very favourite photographs. A definite must-see.

4. Pirano

This beautiful shot, full of texture and colour (not to mention an intimate moment between an unsuspecting couple) was beautifully captured by Pirano, one of our pool contributors. Pirano also blogs at piran café, where he chronicles his daily life in Ljubljana, Slovenia, and his travels abroad. I really enjoy his blog because not only does he post his provocative photographs, but he accompanies his images with insightful thoughts and comments of his home and cities beyond. Really beautiful work.


5. Bryn Tassell

The colours of the sunset, the spray of the surf and the texture of the rocks in the foreground make this shot, shared by Bryn Tassell in our pool, absolutely spectacular. What’s even more stunning? You haven’t seen anything yet — Bryn’s photoblog, Techno-Graph (“a smattering of information technology and photography” — get it?) will positively take your breath away. His landscapes are amazing, and in addition to sharing beautiful work, he occasionally shares tips on how to improve your own photography (see: Tips for Winter Photography, for example). Bryn’s RSS feed has been immediately added to my personal feed reader, and has rocketed to one of my favourite photoblogs of all the ones I follow.


6. A Song Under the Sugar Sugar

I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to come across this image from A Song Under the Sugar Sugar in the Gadling pool photostream — I’ve always been drawn to images that were different from the mainstream. A Song Under the Sugar Sugar’s images have a vintage, antiqued look about them, with a sepia tone that underlies all of the colours. And happily, her photoblog (not surprisingly entitled A Song Under the Sugar Sugar), is a true photoblog, and a feast for the eyes: she uploads an image every few days with very little commentary, so that your experience enjoying her photographs is unmarred by words. A truly beautiful site.

7. PDPhotography

When you look at the image above by PDPhotography, there’s not a question in your mind that this photographer is a master of Photoshop. And you know what? You’d be right: one look through his Flickr photostream will tell you that PDPhotography has taken his post-camera processing skills to an art form. But here’s the great news: PDPhotography photoblogs, as well, at Lit Pixels, and not only does he share more of his images with you, but he gives you his processing tips and tricks to help you create your own pieces of photographic art. Seriously, you gotta love a guy who’s that generous with his skills.


8. Hijodelafortuna

And last but certainly not least, I love the images shared by hijodelafortuna, whose amazing photostream is a perfect example of how creative photoprocessing and radical visual effects can still convey the story of a travel adventure. As it turns out, Hijodelafortuna is actually T.R. Ryan, who blogs at the equally beautiful From the Faraway, Nearby — a blog, he claims, is “a celebration of travel, nature and poetry of place.” His site is a true traveler’s photoblog, with images from 6 different continents, and filled with his impressions of the lands he visits. Definitely work a good long look.

And with that, I’ll leave you to comb through all of the beautiful sites of the very talented photographers you see above. If you know of any other really talented photobloggers, please leave the links to their sites in the comments section, below — I’d love to check them out. And as always, if you have any questions or comments, feel free to send them directly to me at karenDOTwalrondATweblogsincDOTcom, and I’ll be sure to tackle them in upcoming posts!

Karen is a writer and photographer in Houston, Texas. You can see more of her work at her site, Chookooloonks, and read her own photoblog here.
And for more Through the Gadling Lens, click here.

The best kind of travel experience

by Mike Barish on

I just returned home to New York after three weeks in New Zealand and Australia. In the coming days and weeks, I’ll be sharing some of my best stories from this adventure with you. On my travels, I was fortunate enough to swim with dolphins, explore gorgeous beaches, hike up mountains and around lakes and interact with some amazing animals. But for my first story from this trip, I’d like to share with you one of the best travel experiences I have ever had. In fact, it’s one of my best life experiences in general.

I arrived in Auckland late in the evening after more than 24 hours in planes, airports and buses. Needless to say, I collapsed in bed at my hostel (after a few whiskeys at the pub) and planned to hop a bus to Paihia in the Bay of Islands early the next morning. I was alone on the other side of the world but I felt nothing but excitement and anticipation.
The next day, I caught a bus north to Paihia. It’s a four-hour ride by bus from Auckland, so I sat back, watched the gorgeous New Zealand countryside roll by and started to realize how breathtaking that part of the world really is. Since I was traveling alone, I was able to lose myself in the scenery, jot down notes to myself and experience the bliss of feeling like you’re all alone even when other people are around you. I was, obviously, quite content.

After two hours, the bus stopped for a rest break. We pulled into a roadside cafe in a small town and the driver instructed us that we had 15 minutes to stretch our legs, have a snack and use the toilets. The bus would be locked and no one would be allowed back on until it was time to leave. Having spent the previous day traveling from New York and the first two hours of my first day in New Zealand on a bus, I was eager to breathe some fresh air and unfold myself. Plus, I was starved.

I entered the cafe and worked my way immediately to the pies. Before I left New York, everyone I knew told me to eat pies while in New Zealand and Australia. My eyes grew wide and my stomach rumbled as I grabbed a mince pie and got in the queue. That’s when things took an odd turn.

I reached into my back pocket for my wallet and felt nothing. I patted down every pocket in my shorts (cargo shorts…this process took a minute) to no avail. While on the bus, I had taken my wallet out of my pocket to get more comfortable. Wallets can be a real pain in the ass. Literally. In my infinite wisdom, I had left it there when I got out for our break. So, no mince pie for me. Knowing that I had a granola bar in my bag, I resigned myself to waiting to eat back on the bus. I put the pie back and walked outside.

Other passengers milled about and I exchanged a few pleasantries while admiring the vastness of the sky, interrupted only at the horizon by the rolling green hills. Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t even notice the teen-aged Māori girl who had walked over to me. She extended her hand, in which she had a white bag. “It looked like you left your money on the bus,” she said. “I got you your pie.” I was flabbergasted. I was so amazed by the generosity and selflessness of this act that I was without words for a moment. Finally, I thanked her profusely and assured her that my wallet was, in fact, on the bus and that I would give her the money in a few minutes. Before I could introduce myself, ask her where she was traveling to or engage her in any conversation, she strolled away seemingly oblivious to how moved I was by her gesture.

So, I sat in the sun and ate my pie. It tasted even better than I had hoped. When I saw the driver unlock the bus, I hurried to get on so that I could grab some money from my wallet as quickly as possible. I scurried to my seat and found a NZ$5 note right as the girl began her walk down the aisle. As she passed my seat, I looked up at her and offered her the bill while thanking her again. “No worries,” she said. “It’s OK. Don’t worry about it.” I was floored. “Are you sure? I owe you the money,” I said. She shook her head, smiled and walked to her seat. The bus pulled away, the cafe disappeared in the distance and we entered the lush northern regions of New Zealand’s north island.

Over the next hour, I caught myself stealing glances in the girl’s direction. She gazed out the window, listened to music and sent text messages on her phone. Eventually, she reached her destination in a tiny town that didn’t even have a true bus stop. She didn’t acknowledge me as she walked up the aisle and got off the bus. To her, our interaction was innocuous. I, however, still remember it in vivid detail.

My trip was just beginning and already I felt the warmth of the people of New Zealand. I felt welcomed. I felt positive about people and humanity and the world at large. What I didn’t feel was alone. And I couldn’t have been happier.