Robyn's Wanderings

Arriving in Bermuda....anything to declare?

What have condoms, rice, incontinence aids and artificial teeth have in common?

Why am I starting a travel column with this? As you know it has been a while since we’ve been here. Well, since I have been here on Robyns’ Wanderings.

There are lots of reasons why I have been typing free, but perhaps the more important reason why I am back is because I need to complete the trilogy: Quebec part trois!

As you may remember the trip (Quebec….quoi?) to Quebec City started with me struggling to leave Bermuda with my camera that customs would not register (i.e. and save me money on duty when I returned to the island).

And the last time I left you I was struggling with bed bugs, freezing temperatures and snow that kept my feet wet in the old town of Quebec (Quebec…part deux).

Crazy? Absolutely. Everything that could possibly go wrong on a trip….did and yet, I had fun. Unfortunately, the fun had to end and I needed to return to Bermuda (though the prospect of shedding the layers was definitely enticing).

Returning to Bermuda

So I return to my question: what have condoms, rice, incontinence aids and artificial teeth have in common? I will let you know that none of these things were in my bag when I boarded my WestJet flight in Toronto.

And these items were not in that same checked bag when WestJet managed to lose it for me.

Yes, somehow WestJet managed, between Toronto and Bermuda (a direct flight) to lose my bag. Luckily I was greeted with a slow-moving bag-finder lady in Bermuda so two hours after landing I left the customs area of the LF Wade International Airport with a promise they would try to find my bag.

I won’t bore you with that two-hour story!

So back to the condoms, rice, incontinence aids and artificial teeth. These items were not in my lost bag. They were not in my carry-on bag or with me as the customs officer grilled me about my lost bag.

“So you have declared everything?”

Innocent eyes: “Yes, Sir. Everything.”

“And you have all of your bags?”

“Um, well, no. WestJet has done me a massive service and will be delivering the bag to my door step if they can find it some time this week.” ( I swear there was no sarcasm here).

“Oh…hmm….”

He looked so disappointed. Here was his chance to send someone to get inspected. Ha! Triumph over the customs people for once and I was allowed to finally meet my driver (read: dad) who was probably close to leaving the airport without me at that point.

But even if I had been smuggling condoms, rice, incontinence aids and artificial teeth, well technically, I would not be smuggling them because these items are DUTY FREE!!!

Remember the useful yellow slips to ensure you have paid duty on your goods? No need for you to register condoms!

Who knew? Well, I certainly didn’t and I bet you didn’t either. The only reason I had any idea was because of research for this blog post.

You want to know what else we can bring in for free? Check out the site here.  Of course the Customs’ office will only do so much work for the concerned citizen.

To get the full list of duty-free goods? Well, then you’ll have to check-out legislation. I can see everyone quickly flipping through that!

So I know you have one more question: did I smuggle my camera back into Bermuda? Well….. I will never tell. That is one of my little secrets.

But what is not going to be a secret any longer is what I have been working-on for far too long without doing anything about it – my book. After my year-long trip around the world, I decided to compile the columns I had published in The Royal Gazette with the addition of the backstory that was never printed.

So for the next couple of posts, my plan is to start sharing some of the book with you. Let me know what you think……………….

And here ends the Quebec City trilogy….au revoir.

Take it slow in Bali....or anywhere you go!

“He who does not travel does not know the value of men.” – Moorish proverb

“Ok, we have 15 minutes at the Pyramids and then we have to be back here,” said an American-sounding tourist at the prime historical site of Egypt.

I could not believe my ears for two reasons.

One, I could not believe a guide would only give their guests 15 minutes to visit one of the marvels of the world. And two, because the guests were OK with it.

Me? I took a taxi from the centre of Cairo and, though I had to ignore more than enough camel salesmen, I also had all the time I wanted to enjoy the Pyramids.

What has this got to do with this week’s Rock Fever column? Well, actually, this is a column that has been waiting in the wings for some time, but also reared its head on my recent trip to the Netherlands and Belgium: traveling slow.

Perhaps you are more aware of the slow-food movement, which proposes actually taking the time to enjoy your food?

Well, I say it is time to start actually enjoying our travel and I think one of the best ways to do that is to: take it slow!

Which brings me to my first tip this week on traveling slow: slow does not mean long! What do I mean? Taking your time while traveling does not mean you need a year-off to see the places you want, but rather it require quality traveling. If you have a week holiday then take that time in one city rather than trying to stuff four cities in one week.

Because reason two is: traveling is not a contest. Sure I went to 23 countries on my trip around the world, but there’s no need to compete! I’m kidding. The point is, I was lucky to find a year to do that and even then I probably rushed through too many places. I think the best thing to do is to spend more time in one place and try to immerse yourself in the culture. It’s something I tried to do in Bali, where I spent almost three weeks (but really I needed years).

Seriously! Only 15 minutes?!?!

And that brings me to three and if you want to travel particularly slowly than mix business with pleasure: teach. Any teacher or someone with a strong background in a subject can find a job in private, English-speaking schools around the globe. I found a job teaching Biology (that’s another column) in Rome, Italy for a year directly out of college. Failing that and if you want to go the more traditional route then, you can also take the Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) course too. I completed this in Prague (after Rome) and then went to work in Istanbul, Turkey. The beauty is you make money while also experiencing another culture.

Which brings me to four and you never really start to know a country until you live in it (ask any expat living in Bermuda). I can tell you from my own experience that I would never have understood some of the intricacies of Turkish life if I didn’t live for five months in Istanbul (and again those five months only, really scratched the surface).

Tip five for keeping things slow on trips is not to bother signing-up for tours. These tours try to be helpful, but they also cram as much as possible into every waking hour. With that kind of schedule you will never meet any locals (any that aren’t trying to sell you anything anyway), you will get 15 minutes at the Pyramids, you will have to eat at “tourist spots” and you will never truly find time to enjoy the country you’re in!

So skip the packaged tours and listen to my tip six: travel independently and do your own research. Traveling independently is not as scary as you may think, even if you are in a country where English is a second language. And planning your travel really does not require much more work than booking a tour. In order to book a tour, you have to know what you want to see. Why not just go see these things on your own schedule? The bonus of going tour-free is that only you really know what kind of hotels you want to stay in, the places you want to eat and the sights you actually want to see. Need advice on what to see? Ask me at www.robynswanderings.com or post something on Facebook. Someone will be able to give you tips!

But if you do plan your own trip and if you have very little time i.e. a weekend, tip seven is plan three attractions you want to see and organize your weekend around them. A minimal amount of planned visits will give you leeway to “get lost” in a city while also ensuring that you also experience the places a city/country/town is known for.

And when should you plan your trip? Well, I will let you in on a secret….I rarely planned more than a day in advance, the entire year on the road. Why? Because there was no point and it was more important to be “Present” for tip eight. If our lives require us to juggle work, Facebook, emails, Blackberries, computers, kids, homes, etc… why not take your vacation time to actually focus on what you’re doing rather than what you will be doing next? Hotels do not need to be booked months in advance anywhere in the world (well, unless you’re going to Octoberfest) so chill-out and enjoy Amsterdam when you’re there.

Enjoying a long lunch in Brussels!

Lack of forward planning also helps if sickness, late planes, broken trains or general travel mishaps occur! My tip nine is: rather than get stressed on your HOLIDAY, leave “carved-in-stone” plans aside. Example? I got sick in the Hague and because I had not booked any further plans, I could rest in a hotel for three nights and recover! I did not lose any money, nor did I worry I was missing anything.

Which brings me to the last tip for traveling slow: you can always come back! I remember when I managed to fool my parents into sending me away for the summer on a French exchange trip and worrying that would be the last time I would see Paris. I’ve been back at least twice. The point is, be an optimist and rather than feeling like you have to cram everything into two days, take your time and actually enjoy your holiday. Just don’t go home more tired than you arrived. What would be the point?

Battered Passport holder

Battered? Yes. Worn-out? Yes. Faded? Yes. Am I talking about me after my trip around the world? No.

Don’t laugh. Come on, be nice! Yes, I was tired, (ok, worn out) I needed a haircut (ok, faded) and my arm injured from a hike (don’t ask) was swollen (ok, battered), but I’m not talking about me. Nope. I’m talking about my tattered, but trusty, travel side-kick.

“Robyn, that’s no way to talk about your travel buddies!”

Yet, again I am not. Nope. I am talking about a little, leather passport case that traveled with me around the world. Well, actually it has been with me since I was 19.

Our relationship started after a my summer cooped up in the air-conditioned offices as I attempted to work in Human Resources. Not sure exactly what I was thinking. The next summer I served drinks on the beach (far more appropriate).

While the office wasn’t entirely up my alley, it did have one perk – a “Good-bye gift.” While I might not have known what I was doing in the Human Resources’ department, the HR President did (sort of). I was given a backpack for school; I traded it for my scrap-book (well, my way of scrap-booking!) – a leather passport holder.

Which is what I stumbled upon this weekend as I set to finally clean my apartment (and ended-up finding a column topic). Fortunately the mammoth task of cleaning the tiles became side-tracked with my discovery.

Discovery, Robyn? Yes and that’s part of the beauty of travels……remembering them. And that brings me to my Rock Fever column this week: how do you record your travels?

Me? Well as I wandered around the world I was lucky enough to print them in this paper which my parents could collect for me. But on a personal level, I also had papers, business cards, flight stubs, etc…. building-up in my passport holder. And not just from my year abroad.

Heck, no. Hiding in the back is my I-20 Student Visa so that I could attain my Master’s in International Relations in New York. Folded on top? The Italian Visa that allowed me to work in Rome in 2001 (I taught at an American boarding school).

But it’s not just the exotic. I’ve kept boarding passes from my trip to Boston, my trip to New York, luggage tags from the trip to London and even a Best Western Hotel agreement to a free stay after they left me at the airport (another column all together).

It’s also filled with cash. Before you try to nab it from my bag next time you see me at L.F. Wade International Airport, I warn you…..all together it probably only amounts to BDA $2. I’m afraid while Egypt might be in turmoil this week their pharaoh-lined currency is worth even less than when I was there in 2009.

The beauty of my passport holder is not that it just manages to zip with my paper bulging it’s seams, it is also handy. Obviously….it holds my passport!

And it holds more. Every Bermudian and Island resident knows those pesky, yellow, customs’ papers that will save you from small fortunes in fees. But where do you keep them? Your wallet? Sure so they can go flying when you take it out to pay for a taxi or stolen when your wallet goes walking. What about a passport holder? Perfect.

Under your yellow no-IOU’s? Now you can keep your frequent flier cards sorted.

Sure I could actually create a scrapbook, but who has time? And it’s not just time. Creating them, relegates them to the shelf. I mean how many photo albums do I have sitting on the shelves and I never look at them? Lots.

But the passport holder? Well that comes with me wherever I go! (well off the island anyway). My old passport is there. My tickets to Machu Picchu? there. My tickets to the pyramids? there.

And for Bermudians? Get tired of having to answer the triangle question? You know what I’m talking about. Well you can also harbour your travel cheat sheet from my travel column two weeks ago (check my website www.robynswanderings.com for your copy)!

“But Robyn, that’s all so old school.”

Not selling you on this? You looking for a way to regale your travels to others? As I traveled the world I printed mine in The Royal Gazette, but now that I’m home, I’ve also delved into the adventures of blogging. Intimidating? He…ck yes! But it shouldn’t be.

There are so many sites out there right now offering free and easy blogs. But maybe I should start with what is a blog? (just in case

Essentially? A diary online. It’s a space where you get to voice your opinions, experiences, photos and even abilities (I have one site that is just my portfolio! www.robynskinner.com). Even better is that anyone with the internet can look at it!

Need to know where to go? Well I use www.wordpress.com. It’s an easy site that will take you five minutes to create your own blog. Of course your site’s address will have wordpress in it’s name, unless you upgrade your account, which is what I did to have robynskinner.com or robynswanderings.com. Those can be purchased on a site such as godaddy.com. But that’s not necessary for your private blog, so let’s get back.

Use WordPress for your travels?

Choose your background (and they give you plenty to choose from) and then it’s your time to play (or write)! Others have also used www.blogspot.com. To each to create their own, but I didn’t find their offerings gave me as many options for tailoring my site or ability to be creative.

If you’re interested (and the blog doesn’t have to be about travel, obviously) spend 10 minutes snooping between the two and see which works better for you.

Then you can make sure you family and friends can follow YOU around the world! No, it’s not Facebook; it’s better. A blog gives you the space to explain to people what you’re doing. It’s taking the pain out of those ancient slideshows

And it can immediately update to your Facebook page! Blog-on (or like me keep your old-school passport holder for your own walk down memory lane)

Traveling Solo in Berlin!

The room was barely bigger than the single bed it contained. I could touch each wall with my hands standing in the middle (I’m five feet, six inches tall). The walls were clean and white. A flatscreen TV and the faucets in the attached micro bathroom were the only things that made any noise. Well, besides me.

I was in a strange town (Bangkok, Thailand to be exact) and I was alone. I had been traveling with a boyfriend for the beginning of an around-the-world trip, but things changed.

I’m not going to write here that the decision to travel solo was easy. It wasn’t. I’m not going to begin to try and sell you on the notion that I wasn’t scared. I was.

But as we just celebrated, or tried desperately to ignore, Valentine’s Day on Monday it got me  to thinking for my Rock Fever Column in The Royal Gazette: Why do we fear being solo? Why is being together celebrated? Why do we only celebrate Valentine’s Day for couples (and friends if you are younger than 12)? Why can’t we celebrate independence? Shall we start a day? Anyone got a name? Heroes’s Day? Shoot that’s already taken.

What has this got to do with travel? Well as most people will be writing gushy mush about friends who’ve been friends since they were in the womb and couples who cannot bear to be without each other (and need mounds of chocolate and roses to prove it) I am writing the anti-thesis: Ten Reasons Everyone Should Travel Solo.

I believe that everyone should be traveling alone at some point in their lives (and I don’t mean on business). Everyone should take a trip somewhere unknown without friends, without a boyfriend (or girlfriend) without, even, a tour guide.

But Robyn, why would I travel on my own? I like my boyfriend? Me and my friend do everything together?

You want to know why? Well that leads me to one of the most important and the number one reason on my list: it builds a strength and reliance on yourself you will get from very little else in life. When you sleep through your flight from Dallas, Texas to Santiago, Chile at the gate (not that I ever did that!) it is only you who must convince the American Airlines’ staff you are not an idiot (they booked me on the flight the next day and even comped me a hotel room for my mistake).

Hey statue how you doing? Wanna travel with me?

But even better than learning self-reliance (I think) is learning number two is that you have a choice. If you’re in Chiang Mai, Thailand and meet two travel buddies who are going on a three-day motorbike ride through Northern Thailand, you can! There is no debate (well maybe internally) and there is no request for sacrifice from your partner.

Which means number three and you want to learn a new skill, such as scuba diving while on the Perhentian Islands in Malaysia, you can! Sure, maybe you could do that if you were with a friend from home or a boyfriend, but what if they already knew how to? Would they be happy to sit in a hut with no electricity between 7 a.m. and 7 p.m.? And if they were, would you feel guilty?

So four is it gives you a guilt-free travel experience. If you want to go to Laos before visiting Cambodia and the travel buddy you met last week doesn’t want to, well, you find a new travel buddy! Can you do that with a boyfriend? Sure, but it would be a lot harder. Believe me.

And travel buddies are easy to find, which brings me to number five: When you travel as a couple or even as a couple of friends, you’re intimidating! Couples (either romantic or otherwise) are islands and approaching them takes quite a bit of effort for other travelers. Equally when you’re a couple you’re less likely to reach-out to those around you.

When you’re traveling solo and need to find out how to take the bus from Bangkok to Kanchanaburi, you’re going to have to speak to locals. That makes reason six for traveling solo: meeting the people of the country! You’re more likely to talk to them one-on-one if you’re on your own.

Take a bike ride through Northern Thailand? Do it on your own!

Leading to reason seven for traveling solo which is learning to say hello in Cambodian (Sua s’dei) or how are you in Spanish (Cómo estás? or ¿Cómo está?). If you speak only to other travelers or your partner you’re less likely (I think) to actually learn some of the language and even about the culture. Solo? You have to pick-up at least a few words to help yourself.

Sure some couples do, but if you’re single? Well you’re forced to.

You will also be forced to meet other travelers, which is, of course, number eight! A vegan, Israeli who is going to teach English in Cambodia might share veggie rolls with you in Kanchanaburi. A Swedish architect might go hiking with you into the hills of El Calafate, Argentina. Or maybe you’ll go wine-tasting with a college roommate (you haven’t spoken to in a year) in Buenos Aires. Your travel buddies will be a medley exposing you to new experiences while also providing entertainment.

You'll find friends to hike through Patagonia!

But these all lead to number nine and what traveling solo inevitably provides: the ultimate freedom! Sure you might spend all day trying to find an internet cafe in London, England, but at least you didn’t waste anyone else’s day. What if you find that you love Argentina and you want to stay longer to ensure you see “everything”? Well if you’re on your own guess what….. you can stay as long as your little heart desires (see, see the Valentine’s Day connection?).

Which brings me to what I promised to write about last week: Around the World Plane Tickets. I forgot about Valentine’s Day (what does that say?).

But visit here tomorrow….I need help with a name. What’s in a name? Well you’ll find out tomorrow.

Adios!

Menu from Firestones in Quechee, Vermont

Yes, a Bermudian, a Canadian, a Brit, and two Americans walked into a pub (Firestones) in Quechee, Vermont and we ordered three Dark n Stormys, a gingerale (definitely not for the Bermudian) and a Vermont Ale (for the Brit).

No, this is not a joke. Well what transpired was a comedy of errors, but it was never meant to be. Nope, this was supposed to be my New Year’s Eve.

I had planned ahead. I never do that, but this time I had four other people depending on me. Why? Because I decided to drag two friends who live in Bermuda (the Canadian and the Brit) and my college roommate and her boyfriend to a house in Quechee, VT.

Some skiing, New England quaintness and a place where I wouldn’t know anyone was just what the doctored ordered. I had rock fever.

Unfortunately this ailment is nothing that a doctor can cure. Nope. Instead, it is what Bermudians feel after spending too much time on our 21 square-mile island. That and my travel column every Wednesday in The Royal Gazette, of course!

After Delta delayed our escape by five hours we arrived in Boston by 7 p.m. and began our trek to Vermont. It’s only two hours so it wasn’t too bad.

The Americans had already made it to Quechee and we found them ensconced in beer and nibbles at the Firestones’ Pub waiting for us. It was busy, but our waitress was so amazing it made the time fly.

She even carded me! I felt young again. Heck maybe I’m a questionable 21-year-old at 31? Works for me. This was going to be a good vacation.

Even better, we had a little bit of Bermuda waiting for us on the menu. Yes I wanted to escape, but I always love seeing my home country featured somewhere. Well especially because we’re so small!

There it was listed on the Firestones’ menu: a Dark ‘n’ Stormy. Arguably Bermuda’s National drink,  the Dark ‘n’ Stormy consists of our Black Seal Rum (a dark, rich

Quchee's Waterfall/Glass Blowing Company

and smooth alcohol) mixed with Barritt’s Ginger Beer. Any other ginger beer just simply will not do.

I was sure Firestones did not have Barritt’s, but I thought I would give Firestones’ the benefit of the doubt (the friendly waitress who carded me, helped) and we decided to book our New Year’s Eve dinner here.

There were not many other choices. I mean, I love Quechee. It’s quintessential New England. But as far as eating on New Year’s Eve we were at a loss.

Sure we could have chosen Simon Pearce and spent $80 on a four course meal, but that would not have included drinks, tax or service. We didn’t have that kind of money.

The 31st came. We put the skis down, showered and even donned some make-up for the occasion. At 8p.m. we were ready for a good night.

Too bad our Firestones’ waitress wasn’t. Our friendly, first night waitress had been replaced with another.

“What do you want to order?”

Well, hello to you too. Yes, we would love to have a great New Year’s Eve, thank you for asking, I belittled the waitress in my head. I bit my tongue and we gave her the drinks order.

Three Dark ‘n’ Stormys, a gingerale and a Vermont ale.

“Ok, now do you know what food you want to order?”

“uhh, I mean, uh…no!”

She was starting to get downright pushy. I was getting tired of it. She left.

Five minutes later, she returned.

“Ok fine we’ll order.”

That meant our starters. We were still holding out on her. I mean we planned to be there for midnight. We were not going to get so lucky. As soon as she placed the order in the kitchen she was back.

“Now do you want to order your mains?” Not much of a question really. We did. Three Kobe steaks at various levels of cooking, a sea bass and chicken parmesan.

Easy, right? Nope.

The starters came, they entered our stomachs and the cutlery was taken away….never to return. Well not until we’d already had the steaks and the chicken.

Robyn, you forgot the sea bass?! Nope, nope I didn’t. Actually the waitress did.

I remained gracious: “Dig in guys. Please don’t wait for me.”

Drive-by photo of Firestones

“Ugh, mine’s cold. Mine’s not cooked enough,” echoed around the table.

We called over the waitress. Our conversations turned from borderline impolite to downright rude.

Us: “Sorry, but our steaks are all cold and we still don’t have the sea bass.”

Waitress: “What do you want me to do about it?”

I get it’s New Year’s Eve. I get that no one wants to work, but well, we would have spent a decent chunk of change. She would have done all right if she had managed an iota of pleasantness.

“Are you sorry they’re cold?” I asked her.

“Yes, I’m sorry. So what would you like me to do?”

Fly to the moon, solve world poverty, find the cure for cancer, I don’t know, maybe cook new steaks?!

The men at our table decided to confront the manager; I had already tried to no avail.

Manager: “Oh, yeah well I only heard about this five minutes before. I’m supposed to have dinner with my wife of 27-years. Um….let’s see how this turns out.”

It turned out that after fixing the steaks, my sea bass came out colder than before, the chicken parmesan had congealed cheese and we were done.

And so was her tip and half of the bill! We bid Firestone’s farewell.

A quick trip to the gas station delivered a few beers and some wine into our party and as we arrived home fireworks erupted on the ski hill!

I think we had the last laugh!

Fireworks over the Charles' Bridge in Prague!

Kielbasa? Check. Champagne? Check? A bridge that was not destroyed in WWII? Check. Thousands of people from Italy, France, China, and the USA? Check? Fireworks? At midnight.

I was knee-deep in freezing temperatures, but that’s ok. I could work with the frost. It was nothing a couple of glasses of gluwein and a lot of jumping, couldn’t fix.

As I found myself at the beginning of my trip around the world celebrating in Prague the welcoming of 2009, I realized I was glad I chose this spot. With the Christmas Market still doling out the famous sausage dish (kielbasa) and hot wine, coupled with the thousands of tourists in the Czech Capital there was a sense of unity among nations.

Well, unity until we all tried to head for the Charles’ Bridge. This structure survived WWII and just about survives the onslaught of tourists and Czech’s alike every New Years; it’s the best place to watch the fireworks. On the way everyone jumps into the shops on the corner to grab their champagne, absinthe, or the Czech liquor, Fernet.

Then the count-down begins. Five, Cinque, Cinq….Four, Quatro, Quatre…..three, tre, tre, Two, duo, due….One, uno, une!

But not everyone enjoys their New Years on a bridge. Of course I have never been in New York for New Year’s Eve but, as everyone knows, they drop a ball…in Times’ Square of course!

Sure the New Yorkers drop a ball, but that’s nothing compared to our onion in St. George’s, right?

Neither of those, I’m afraid, touch on the interesting New Years tradition in Peru, however. In this South American country, they dress-up a doll (yes I know machismo is gone for a night) in old clothes and then burn it.

Talk about cleaning your closet! To ensure there are replacements, markets spring-up catering to everything you need. New clothes not an option? Then at least new underwear is!

But, of course, yellow underwear is the only colour you want if you need happiness and luck (good thing that’s my favourite colour!) or red if you want love or green for, of course, money.

Red, green and….white? Well those colours will have you wishing: “Buon Capodanno!” That’s what I heard in Florence as I celebrated a New Year before starting my semester of studying in these Renaissance-lined streets. Of course the greeting came with the crescendo of bottles crashing onto these streets (perhaps a hangover from the Southern tradition of throwing your old things out of the window showing that you were ready for the new).

We didn’t dodge the bottles until after a massive fiesta! La Festa di San Silvestro to be exact. For my experience it was based on sea food and fish.

Ponte Vecchio in Florence, Italy!

Perhaps that was because I was up North and the Italians I was celebrating with were from the coast (sailors actually). In other parts of Italy the feast is based on lentils and pork! Of course once you indulge in these feasts only the Italians know how to work it off. That requires cracking a spumante or prosecco and finding a club to dance and then waiting for the new born sun.

A ray of light is exactly what you might think you see if you celebrate the new year in India. Parties have themes – colour codes or unique dress codes – filled with food and even the lighting of bonfires and the burning of crackers. Of course if you visit the tourist and hippie mecca of Goa (a province on India’s West coast) then raves are all the…rave!

Heading back for Silvester, or the feast of St. Silverster is the name of New Year’s Eve in Germany. Who was Silvester? Well, he was a pope who lived in the fourth century and apparently healed leprosy and baptized the Roman Emporer, Constantine the Great among other things. Fair enough. I guess he should get a celebration. In Berlin, however, the world-famous bash Brandenburger Tor is held and at midnight everyone wishes everyone else “Gutes Nue Jahr”. The next day, there is, of course, the need to know what is coming in the next year so the Germans enjoy Bleigiessen. A tradition, it requires dropping molten lead into cold water. Shaped like a heart or a ring? A wedding is in your future.

While we, in the West, might be celebrating New Years’ Eve in a couple of days, in Cambodia New Year or Chaul Chnam Thmey is not until April 13th or 14th and it is celebrated for three days! Yes, three days. That’s because it represents the end of the harvesting season. Makes sense, no? To celebrate means visiting temples to get blessing from monks and priests while building a sand hill on the temple grounds and decorating it with five religious flags – it represents the Buddha’s five disciples. Each of the three days also have their own significance.

Harvesting is what it’s all about in Korea, China and Vietnam! Only their’s is celebrated at sunset on the day of the second new moon after the winter solstice (that was on December, 21 this year). It’s a three-day celebration too! Heck they know how to party out there. Almost all Koreans, apparently, head back to their hometowns to celebrate. On the eve, or Sut dal kum mum, people clean their homes and light them with colourful halogens. You think our New Years Eve is long? The Koreans don’t sleep! The belief is everyone needs to stay-up to see the new year coming in or….else.

The next day it’s all about eating and spending time with family even including the ancestors. Known as Chesa, a clean room, a table altar is places with food items and on a special paper their names are written. On a special paper called Chi Bang, the names of the ancestors are written. With the rituals done, it’s time to have fun with games and hanging-out.

The only tradition for their friends south, Australia, is a party of course! Beaches, pubs and clubs are all filled with crazy cappers and as soon as church bells ring at midnight loud noises also ring-out! Recovering from this fun, the New Year Day is a public holiday and people spend it with their family and friends. To get an idea of how much fun it is more than 3,00,000 tourists celebrate their New Year in Australia. I suppose that’s a party.

The Matterhorn can provide the background for New Year's Eve!

Of course the best I’ve seen/experienced was in Zermatt, Switzerland! I had the luck of having a friend with a house there. But that’s not where we stayed….well for New Year’s Eve anyway. Instead the party was taken to a five-story restaurant/bar/club in the middle of this traffic-free, mountain ensconced town. The Swiss know how to party.

Of course the next day the party the night before was nothing a little skiing with the backdrop of the Matterhorn mountain couldn’t take care of. Let’s hope I have the same luck this year in Vermont! So wherever you are and whatever you are doing this year, enjoy it! And come back next week for my next Rock Fever column for The Royal Gazette on traveling by book! (those following the blog will have seen it before:)

Entering Dover Castle

The quiet beep awoke me from my Channel daze.

“Welcome to France. You’re phone calls with now cost…..”

What? But I’m not in France. I’m still in England and yet my phone calls and texts have doubled in price?

Cell phones. The bane of my existence while I travel for a month to find ten trips for my Rock Fever column in The Royal Gazette, for under $100 from London. So far I’ve been to Stockholm and Sigtuna in Sweden; Sachsenhausen and Berlin in Germany; and Hampstead in London.

Now this little piece of technology had interrupted my sunny view of my sixth trip or the white cliffs of…. Dover! Perhaps I should not have been surprised that the French had invaded my phone. The neighbour is about 20 miles or so across the Dover Straight from this strategic southern tip of England. Check out my photos here.

Overlooking the Channel

A town, castle and cliff, Dover was little more than an hour train ride from the St. Pancreas train station in London. Do not, however, make the mistake of shelling-out for the fast trains. With a ticket salesperson’s slight of hand, what should have cost me only £15 pounds ended-up costing me close to £30! Even worse? On the fast trains I also had to switch vehicles outside of London. The slow trains, on the other hand, would have been more direct and less costly. In any case, I arrived around 1 p.m. A little late, but luckily the walk to the Castle from town is only about 15 minutes.

This British Border town has been critical for Britain’s safety for more than 2,000 years, which is why Henry II built the Castle in 1180. After he built the Keep, the Castle became known as “the key” because, of course, any enemy that took it would have full access to Britain.

I seized the Castle via the signs that led up the hill. Luck gave me a sunny day and a man in a ticket booth allowed me to enter for £11.80. For those who do not want to or cannot walk there are buses from town into the castle and inside there is a free land train. I crossed the moat with barely a stone thrown at me and was met with a view of the bustling docks below. Large ferries and cargo ships fill with cars and then expel cars in England’s main port to Europe.

I turned from the sights and set mine on the Secret War Tunnels. Henry II might have built the Castle on the hill in 1180 for strategy, but the Napoleonic Wars in the 18th Century demanded more. Tunneling began to hide troops fighting against the French. Then in the 1940’s the tunnels were resurrected as the command centre for Operation Dynamo i.e. Britain’s retreat from France when they could not immediately defeat the German army. In less than a week, Vice Admiral Bertram Ramsay, from his Dover cliff operation centre, had organized the removal of 340,000 men from Dunkirk, France. By 1942 the British War Cabinet realized these tunnels were bomb proof and started expanding to create an underground city of sorts.

Now these tunnels house a slightly Disney-ish tour of the barracks, hospital and officers’ quarters, complete with sound effects. No, I’m not kidding. As the tour wanders along the halls, voices of the war time effort echo above your head. Not as interesting or as informative as, I thought, the museum that is attached to the tunnels.

While the tunnels protected the military, the civilians were left within reach of the German guns based in Calais. The museum takes pains to explains the extent of bombing on Dover during WWII. Between July 1940 and September 1944, these poor souls were subjected to 2,226 shells landing in the town and 686 in nearby areas. More than 3,000 air raid alerts were sounded and more than 10,000 buildings were damaged. Two hundred and sixteen civilians were killed and 344 were severely injured. This British town was on the front lines. It only became safe in September 1944, after which the guns at Calais were captured by the advancing Allies and finally fell silent. It’s too bad this suffering was not better portrayed in the tour, but luckily it was free.

I left the sound effects and continued my assault on the hill and eventually landed in the Keep of Dover Castle.The entire Castle complex is 70 acres with the highest point containing a pharos, or lighthouse, that was originally built by the Romans to guide their ships across the Channel. Those Romans, always ahead. It’s little more than a circular stone tower standing next to a small stone church (St. Mary-in-Castro), but it is striking set within a beautiful green expanse. More interesting to me, however, was walking the former path of its light rays to see the Channel extending in front of me and the infamous white cliffs stretching to the left. No wonder the Romans built here.

Retreating to the Keep, which includes the Great Hall and two stone chapels, I was bombarded with another history lesson. “The 1216 Siege Experience” is a sound and light show that depicts the French attempt to seize the castle. By 1216 the French had, in fact, invaded southeast England, controlled London and the Tower. Dover held strong, rallied the troops and in 1617 ran the French out of town. Dover was “the key” after all.

The Keep now also contains a 12the Century, replica kitchen, a modern restaurant and a shop. I navigated the knighted plates and spoons trying to come home with me, saved my pounds and took the final batteries that looked across lush, green fields and white cliffs. It was time to head for the open air.

Dover Cliffs

If I could find the way. Other tourists jumped into their cars. I had no choice. I backtracked to the guard who let me in, who told me to head left. I have said this more than once, but thank goodness for the Brits and their signs.

A half hour of following these signs brought me to the National Trust-run cafe overlooking the famous cliffs that were painted white by fossilized marine life. These are transcribed with 4 km of paths that lead to the South Foreland Lighthouse.

At this point, however, I had been walking around the 70 acre castle, up the cliffs and I preferred to sit and watch the ferries meander through the channel. The sun was setting. It was getting cooler. The lighthouse would have to be reached another day.

“Your calls will cost…”

Ok. Ok. I get it. I’m going! It was time for the journey back to London and to my next trip for under $100. Forget the war time history. It’s time for some “cultural” inheritance of Britain at where else? Brighton of course.

Rain for Beauty!

What am I posting about today? Well hopefully you got your beauty sleep this weekend? No? Oh right it was Bermuda’s annual Rugby Classic.

I’m sure most people are feeling a little less than light on their feet today. Maybe there are a few bags under the eyes that were not there before?

Need something to pick you up? Perhaps you’re having a better day than Oleg Mavromati (read my previous post for understanding) who appears to be alive!

Have no fear the Bermudians are on it and have been “on it” since our creation. As you can see in the pic I have chosen for you today, the Brits thought they were ahead.

What am I talking about?

Today’s Robyn’s Wanderings draws from my next column for The Royal Gazette (in on Wednesday now!) I was meandering around the house of John Keats in Hampstead Heath, London and noticed this sign.

“Rain Water in Beauty Treatments”

Now who would have thought? Well the Bermudians certainly have! We catch the rain off our roofs, store it in our tanks and use it for everything from washing our faces (hello beauty!) to washing our vegetables (beautiful tummies?).

Apparently this was  new trend in the time of George IV i.e. late 1700′s and early 1800′s. Kinda an odd concept, really. Not washing?

But then again who would have thought about catching water on our roofs to use it for every day affairs? A small island nation in the middle of the Atlantic is who!

It’s always a fun fact to share with people, even people who work for eco-lodges in Berlin. He couldn’t quite get his head around it!

“You mean you catch water on your roofs? To flush toilets, right?”

“No. Well yes. But we also drink it and shower, etc.. It’s why we have roofs shaped like stairs and painted white!”

White, water-catching Bermuda roof

“That’s crazy! Why don’t you write about that for your blog.”

Ha. Well here I am writing about it. Trendsetters that we try to be, Bermuda was way-ahead in the beauty treatments that the British then “came-upon.”

So remember your beauty treatment today. In Bermuda it’s no further than your tap and stay tuned for my next Rock Fever Column on Wednesday!

Happy Monday.

Where is Rock Fever this week?

You might be able to find Bermuda on a map (look really close. It’s pin-pointed with a green thumb tack), but you might not find it’s Rock Fever. What am I on about?

Rock Fever is the term Bermudians endearingly call the need to leave their island. At 21-square-miles we’re just a little dot in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. With 65,000 people we barely have enough fans to fill stadiums. It takes about an hour to drive from one tip of our fish-hook-shaped island to the other.

When we go for coffee we will run into at least three people we know and when we start or finish relationships everyone knows. We have a grapevine that few other places have.

And yet we still have two newspapers, lots of radio shows and two evening news shows. If anything goes unknown…..well you aren’t living in Bermuda.

Hence the need to escape this little island home every so often – Rock Fever. While we Bermudians might try and place roots on their fish-hook, we are also some of the best travelers out there. We have to be.

Now not only have I been traveling for the past month – hitting the likes of Sweden, Germany and Britain – so is my travel column in one of our island’s newspapers – The Royal Gazette.

Yes even my column can’t sit still. From Monday it’s going to Wednesday! So every week now there will be Rock Fever Wednesdays and Monday?!?!?!

So what should I fill Monday with? Where are you going next? Where did you just come from? Remember I am always looking for a new addition to the Bermuda’s Postcards’ page!

Stockholm's waterways

Beep. Beep. Slam. Beeppppppppppp

Is there a fire? Oh my go…sh…it’s three a.m. already? It can’t be. I hate my phone alarm. Yes I spent a year away from home without a phone and while traveling around Europe I have let one of these little cell phones dictate my life. Both a way to stay in touch and alarm, it can be helpful. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so rough with it.

It was three a.m. though. Why? Why am I waking myself up at 3 a.m.? Any other time I would be going to bed….especially since it was the day after my birthday. But not now. Nope. Why? Because I am on a mission to find cheap trips from London. This cheap one? Well that was my mistake, but it required a 6 a.m. flight from London Stansted Airport to Skvasta Airport in…..Stockholm! There was a flight at 9 a.m. but somehow I booked the earlier flight. Go figure.

In any case I had found a £20 flight to Sweden and I was trying to get myself out of bed to get my bus to the airport. I did it. Begrudgingly. But I did it. I made my flight.

Ryanair might be persistent about their weight gain (see last week’s column budget airlines), but to be fair to this low-cost/budget airline they did get me to Stockholm on time. Which is what this week’s Rock Fever Column from The Royal Gazette is all about.

I landed in this capital city that spans 14 islands of an archipelago by 9 a.m. (two hour flight plus one hour for time difference). Didn’t know Stockholm covered islands? Yeah me neither and sadly I had been here before. To be fair to me I had been here over New Years about ten years ago. There was so much snow and ice I’m surprised I ever left the hotel room. But more importantly that means the archipelago’s waters freeze over. In fact an ice-breaking boat storms through the solid water in winter months. Otherwise the ice actually helps those that live on Stockholm’s distant islands commute in the winter.

In any case, September was a far more friendly month to travel through Sweden. The weather had started to

Stockholm's boardwalk

cool down, but I didn’t always need a jacket. Not even on a night out. And it wasn’t too busy tourist-wise. A perfect time to hit this Nordic country located on the Scandinavian Peninsula. It is also a member (the third largest by land area) of the European Union and ranks first in the Economist’s Democracy index and seventh in the United Nations’ Human Development Index.

I would say life is pretty ideal. And that is definitely what this capital city exudes – idealism. Welcoming me to the centre of the city was an hour bus ride complete with lush green countryside dotted with horses and lakes. The city was equally ideal. The taxi driver actually offered NOT to rip me off when I tried to get a lift to my friend’s place. He told me the cabs outside of the bus station were cheaper. More than nice taxi drivers, Stockholm also has nice-looking people too.

By that I don’t mean the stereotype of blondes. I mean there were a lot in this most populous city of Sweden (more than 800,000 live in the centre, 1 million on the immediate outskirts and 2.5 million on the outer, outerskirts). But what I mean is the Swedes wandering the streets could have just walked out of a catalogue. The babies could be featured on Gerber bottles. No wonder Ikea (the perfectly constructed furniture store) is Swedish.

Economics of Weddings in the National Economic Museum across from The Castle

These perfect streets and people of Sweden founded Stockholm in 1250, and it is the site of government as well as the official residence of the Monarch. Technically the king lives outside of Stockholm and just keeps the Royal Palace in town for his official business. That’s what I like to do too.

This mammoth palace dominates the Gamla Stan island (Old Town) and yet it only offers to open its doors for a couple of hours a day. I missed them. Only from 12 to 3. Oh well. I had seen the snippets of the castle when I had visited before. It was the warmest thing to do in Stockholm over New Years.

But more than a hand warmer this castle has 610 rooms just in case the Royal family manages to get bored in their place. It is also the site of the (I would say) dinners for the most famous of prizes – the Nobel Prize. While the jewels….the crown’s of course, also rest here. So much for my dinner accessories that night. Don’t be like me though. By that I mean jet-lagged and too late for the castle. Get up in Stockholm and make the visit. There are tours, but be warned entering can get expensive. One hundred Swedish Kronas ($15) to see each segment of the castle i.e. the Treasury or the Private Quarters, etc…. I saved my Kronas and decided to head across the street to find out about where they came from.

I couldn’t resist the National Economy Museum. I know. Go Figure. I’m one crazy tourist. What drew my attention? An exhibit on weddings and the economics behind it. Yeah it wasn’t always about love (is it?). They do say finances is one of the main reasons marriages end. Good thing I got some tips. Besides the wedding dresses, the museum was worth it’s weight in….well let’s just say it was interesting.

Did you know that the first European banknote was printed in Sweden? Or that the largest coin is here? Or how about the history of the pesos? Or how about the fact that the Swedes have one of John Steinbeck’s signatures because that’s the only way he could cash his Nobel Prize cheque? Yes. The equivalent of more than $2 million dollars used to be handed in cheques to the successful Nobel person.

Enough of the economics in museums. Stockholm’s economy doesn’t make this country break from your

Bermuda-budget (prices for food and drinks are the same). Nor does it give you a break from the Bermuda water border. But I liked that. Not the prices. Those were fine. Not as expensive as everyone whispers about

Largest minted coin with the lightest wallet on it.

Scandinavian countries, but I love being in a city where water dominates.

I felt right at home even if the boats used wooden logs for bumpers rather than heavy plastic. Yep even if Stockholm requires dodging H&M’s (the clothing stores) which dot every corner like Starbucks in London it’s still a dynamic city. A city my friend swore up and down was much like New York with its various neighbourhoods. From the Old Town (similar to New York’s soho) to their Sofo neighbourhood, which is more like New York’s village, Stockholm offers everything.

And there are cheaper things to do in this town. Which is exactly what I needed after my schooling at the economics museum. So I headed for the rest the old town with my camera ready. Picturesque doesn’t describe it. IN fact the Old Town sums-up Swedes for you. I don’t think I ever saw anything out of place – perfection.

Well except for maybe their ships. One would have though the descendants of vikings would have been able to build a boat. Unfortunately they couldn’t. But now there is a museum relegated to this. After spending a few hours wandering around the old town with camera (best way to see this town and capture your memories) it was an easy ferry ride to see the ship- Vasa.

Built from 1626 to 1628 it was supposed to be a Swedish warship. Sent to sea on August 10, 1628 it promptly sank one nautical mile from home. Oops. Dug-up in the 1960’s there is now a museum to it. Ok it might not have made the best sailing ship, but it is a decent recorder of history. So I guess it was worth it going to see it.

I wandered around the Vasa hoping that the boat tomorrow would be better built. Why? Well my friend would be off work and we decided to navigate the Stockholm Archipelago! Nothing a few layers couldn’t handle. So make sure you check My Photos page for documentation of my cheap Swedish trip and check back here next week for more on Stockholm’s islands as well as Sweden’s oldest town!