Category: We’ve Been There

What’s it like to go on holiday with your mum? Charlie Gilbert travelled to northern India with his to find out.

Destination: northern India. Travel companion: my mum. Why India? Why my mum? Well, my granny was born and schooled on the subcontinent, so the pair of us wanted to explore our recent family ancestry first-hand. Thanks to a well-timed grouping of bank holidays, we jumped on a plane to Delhi to begin our adventure.

Now, I’m quite an unlucky traveller. During my last few holidays I’ve missed flights, been robbed by child gangsters and snowed in at train stations. Last time I was in India, I was hospitalised for five days with amoebic dysentery and run over by a motorbike. It’s fair to say my mum was a little nervous before any butter chicken had graced her palate.

Delhi

First stop Delhi, a somewhat curious city. Curious because the Indian capital has a remarkable ability to function on a day-to-day basis despite the relentless mayhem of energy-sapping heat, traffic horns, scam artists, lung-clogging pollution and a superbug-infested water supply (which, fortunately, has long since cleared up). It’s genuinely fascinating, but after two days the insides of your nasal passages turn black, you can drink a two-litre bottle of water in five seconds without your thirst being quenched and, most infuriatingly, you begin to lose faith in humanity. But that’s what India does to you – by the time you crawl into your hotel bed that night, you’re already reminiscing about how fantastic the day was.

Agra

Armed with an India travel guide, it was onwards to Agra, which is essentially a miniature, industrial version of Delhi – but one that’s home to the world’s most impressive building. The Taj Mahal is an architectural marvel – tear-inducing, almost. It’s just a shame its interior is a bit smelly. After being moved by watching the early-morning sun reflect off centuries-old translucent marble adorned with Mughal scripture, I found myself sniffing the air and grimacing as I walked closer to the building. After taking a few steps back and whipping out the camera, normal service was resumed. Phewff.

A train journey

Our adventure began in earnest on the overnight train to Varanasi. If you’re not familiar with Indian trains, they usually have the following classes:

• Chair car: Avoid like the plague unless you like sitting on upright slatted benches for 13 hours and have a perverse attraction to insomnia.
• Sleeper class: Where passengers are presented with a plastic padded horizontal bench and a curtain. It sounds basic, but it’s remarkably comfortable – and one of those genuine ‘travel experiences’.
• AC 2-tier: The same as sleeper, but with more bedding and thicker curtains.
• AC 3-tier: Identical to AC-2 but with one more person squeezed in per berth – something of a lottery, let me tell you.
• First class: Which essentially involves being locked inside a moving box with two strangers, one of whom will most likely have a snoring problem that urgently requires the attention of an ear, nose and throat specialist. Unless you know the people you’re sharing a compartment with, I’d avoid.

We chose AC 2-tier – my mum wasn’t too impressed with the on-board facilities and was gripped by an unwelcome bout of claustrophobia. Being a gentleman, I let her have the bottom bunk – the one with the window and enough space to accommodate an average-sized badger set.

The upper bunk was so close to the train’s roof that I couldn’t sit up without banging my head on the grilled metal air conditioning vent. Using all the common sense I could muster, I decided to lie down. I was immediately transfixed by a big red handle on the end of a short chain, which dangled invitingly close to my right hand. Above it were the words ‘Pull to stop train. Penalty for use without reasonable and sufficient cause – fine of up to Rs. 1000 and/or imprisonment up to one year’.

Pulling this handle seriously tempted me – it would have generated enough excitement to justify a £15 fine, but I didn’t fancy being harangued by my fellow passengers or spending 12 months wasting away in an Indian prison cell with curried lentils as my only company.

After dilly-dallying for longer than I should have, I realised the train had been moving for 20 minutes and that I had no idea which way it was travelling. I glanced down at the bottom bunk – the curtains were closed and my mum was asleep. It was the same story over at the adjacent bunks. I spent the next 13 hours wondering whether my head was following my backside, or my backside following my head.

Varanasi

I had heard mixed reviews of Varanasi from friends of mine who had already visited. On the one hand, it was India’s oldest and holiest city, crammed full of temples, the Ghats, the River Ganga and bucket loads of religious and spiritual significance. On the other, it was an over-populated sprawl of decrepit buildings – its growth has been unstoppable, and the intensity of an around-the-clock sensory assault coupled with an unforgiving climate has driven tourists to more peaceful surroundings after only a few hours. Just as well my mum decided to book a five-night stay, then.

This is the city my great-great grandparents are from. Wilmot Charles Dover – easily the most handsome man who ever lived in Varanasi, then Benares – and his wife, Alice Maud, resided in a bungalow complex in the city until the late 40s. My granny, whose parents’ wedding reception was held there, remembers almost everything about it – from the mango tree at the front to the well at the back, even sleeping outside on the veranda when it got a bit hot at night. Armed with a few old photographs and a trusty Varanasi street map, my mum and I decided to pay the bungalow a visit – the first members of our family to do so in 60-odd years.

We were welcomed by the Guptas, the bungalow’s residents, with open arms. A family of 14, they told us the history of the house and we in turn showed them our old photographs. It was all rather pleasant – we were treated to a huge, all-you-can eat meal and a grand tour of the complex, which by Indian standards is pretty bloomin’ big. With a little help, we subsequently tracked down Wilmot’s grave, unmarked apart from a number ’46’ and covered in scrub and ants. It was a genuinely moving moment and felt like quite an achievement. I may have even hugged my mum, but I can’t remember.

Nainital

From Varanasi we returned to Delhi and headed north-east to Nainital, a picturesque hill station in the Himalayan foothills and the town where my granny went to school. This was the ‘holiday’ part of the trip. Up in the mountains it’s a much cooler 25 degrees, which basically means you can go out and have a nice time without fear of melting into a large puddle.

It was here where I met the Indian Mr Burns – his appearance and gait unquestionably similar to that of Springfield Nuclear Power Plant’s owner. He was fascinated by two things in particular: British coins and William and Kate’s royal wedding. His enthusiasm for both was insatiable and he couldn’t be calmed down – every time I opened my mouth to speak he looked at me like an eight year-old boy about to receive a Lego pirate ship for his birthday.

“You have English coin?!”

“Um, let me check. Yep, um, only about 20p though, sorry.”

“Wow! I shall keep this and treasure it! You have more?!”

I replied in the negative and his face dropped. “You sure, maybe check again?!”

Return to Delhi

A remarkably uneventful return train journey from Kathgodam back to the Indian capital signalled the end of our journey. Apparently the crew from the BBC’s Who Do You Think You Are lost the tape, so you’ll have to settle for this blog. Sorry about that.

Recommended reading

• Great Indian Railway Atlas: An excellent record of the Indian rail network, and very useful when you make up in the middle of your sleeper train journey wondering where you are.
• Lonely Planet Rajasthan, Delhi & Agra: A succinct, detailed guide to the most popular northern India destinations – an absolute must.
• Uttarakhand Road Guide: While in Nainital, this state map was vital when planning days out in the Himalayan mountain region of Uttarakhand.

Shanghai-based freelance journalist Tim Neesham gives a westerner’s perspective on living in one of the world’s most forward-thinking yet enigmatic cities.

I am standing on the platform as a Shanghai metro train gently rolls into the station. Elbows cocked, knees bent, I prepare myself for the inevitable battle that accompanies the boarding of every train. The doors open and I make my move, but like a salmon fighting its way upstream, progress is minimal, perhaps even backward.

The next thing I know I am facing the wrong direction and the train is gradually departing the station. I am still on the platform. I may as well have my pants around my ankles for good measure. Punk’d, merked, served, whatever – I’ve been had.

And such is life when 23 million people are all seemingly battling for the one empty seat. Snooze you lose, dog eat dog – figuratively speaking of course – all the old cliches come to mind. Shanghai is not just bustling, it’s booming, at times frantic; the fastest growing metropolis the modern world has ever seen.

The very name conjures up images of 19th century opium dens, porcelain poster girls and preposterous propaganda, but in reality the Shanghai of today is a cosmopolitan cocktail of forward movement, exploration and bucket loads of new money.

In 1990, the area of Pudong was little more than a swamp. Within 15 years it’s transformed into the oft-filmed and photographed Shanghai we recognise today. Skyscrapers which at one time were the largest in the world are now home to central offices for many of the world’s largest corporations. It even has its very own stock exchange. All have helped mould Shanghai into what is arguably the most influential financial centre of what is indisputably the world’s fastest-growing economy.

Modern Shanghai is a unique mix of colonial architecture and 21st century Oriental innovation. Indeed, at times wandering through the area the foreigners know as the French Concession it’s easy to forget you’re even in China at all. As the name suggests, it’s perhaps more akin to a strolling down a Provencal boulevard. However, a quick duck down a side street or into the subway quickly reminds me that I’m far from home, far from western customs and traditions.

But as a westerner here, the creature comforts come thick and fast – bars that sell decent beer on draught, restaurants offering reasonably inexpensive pizza and takeaways that will deliver more or less anything to your door at more or less whatever time you choose.

Public drinking for example, although perhaps frowned upon or at the very least greeted with confused regard, is still perfectly legal and the whisper of the smoking ban remains exactly such.

The western bubble has expanded to the point that a real connection with Chinese culture is no longer a necessity. Locals view us with a certain wary curiosity, as one might look at an unexploded incendiary device.

This lax – some may even say liberal – attitude to the infusion of western culture combined with a reasonably fertile foreign employment market has seen expat numbers soar in recent years, but the division between foreigners and locals remains tangible.

That said, if ever there was a place to epitomise where east meets west, where old grapples with new and innovation struggles to overcome tradition, then it is Shanghai. A fascinating city of startling contrasts, Shanghai’s biggest obstacle may yet turn out to be those who continue to sculpt it and drive it forward. Without the Chinese, Shanghai would be nothing like what it is, yet the speed at which it continues to develop is destined to leave many people far behind. It’s no secret that the labourers who work so hard to build the skyscrapers will probably never get the chance to actually set foot inside them.

Never ashamed to destroy or exploit images of cultural heritage in the name of progress, Shanghai follows the modern Chinese model that moving forward is of far greater importance than preserving what has already been.

Human nature has thus far shown that radical change takes time, but time is the one thing the Shanghainese are not willing to waste.

Want to discover more about Shanghai? Try one of these Shanghai travel guides and maps:

• Lonely Planet Shanghai City Guide – get 20% off!
• Shanghai Flexi Map – save 25%! 
• Beijing & Shanghai Eyewitness Guide – save 25%!

Paul Darlow visited the Shandur Polo Festival, the scene of the world’s highest polo match, where he experienced “legendary” Pakistani hospitality and a familiar match-day atmosphere.

Shandur Polo Festival has been held annually in Pakistan since 1936. Every year the top polo teams from Gilgit travel there to pitch themselves against their opponents from Chitral. At an altitude of 3,700 m, the Shandur plateau is claimed to be the highest polo ground in the world – sadly, it’s not unknown for horses to perish from over-exertion at such altitude.

Until a few years ago there was no road to Shandur, meaning that people walked (or rode on horseback), often for days on end, to get there. Now though there is a road the whole way from Gilgit to Chitral via Shandur, so most people take the bus. Most people, that is, apart from mad travellers…

Two weeks before the festival was due to begin I was in Gilgit chatting to other travellers about their plans. Attending the polo festival was top of everyone’s list, but no-one really knew what to do beforehand. While skimming through a Pakistan guidebook one guy noticed that by combining a few trekking routes through the Karakoram Mountains, it might be possible to go almost the entire 220 km from Gilgit to Shandur on foot. Checking the route on our Pakistan maps it looked like an adventure not to be missed, so the following day we booked a jeep to take us to the trail-head, and off we went.

For the next few days we trekked through the most breathtakingly beautiful scenery you can imagine – animals grazed on emerald green pastures situated next to azure lakes, eagles soared past snow-capped peaks, and glaciers tumbled down from seemingly every mountain.

The only other people we met were goat and yak herders who spent their days looking after their animals, and who lived in primitive wood structures. Food was a few essentials that we carried with us together with whatever we could lay our hands on en route: wild rhubarb gathered from the hillsides plus bread, cheese and yoghurt purchased from the herders.

En route we were invited to stay for four nights with a family in the village of Pakora, where days were spent swimming in streams and strolling around the apricot groves munching on fresh fruit. Evenings were spent eating, singing, dancing and playing cards. Among travellers, the hospitality of the Pakistani people is legendary because of numerous acts of kindness such as this.

As for the polo festival, apart from the fact that women and children were segregated from the men it wasn’t that dissimilar from, say, watching a game of rugby at Twickenham. Of course there was no beer on offer and no pies available, but the intensity of the action, the engagement of the audience and the general atmosphere was strangely familiar.

The other main difference I suppose was the fact that the final match was delayed for around an hour while we waited for the VIP to arrive in his military helicopter, who managed to spook all the horses by buzzing the pitch on arrival. You don’t often get that at Twickenham.

Paul Darlow manages Nepal Trekking Holidays, a travel blog dedicated to walking holidays in Nepal.

If you’ve been inspired by his experiences, you may be interested in one of these Nepal travel guides and maps:

• Lonely Planet Pakistan & the Karakoram Highway – get 20% off! 
• Pakistan – Nelles Verlag map 
• Pakistan – Gizi map

Lily Taylor writes about her four-day adventure down the Amazon. Her starting point was Leticia – the town where Columbia, Peru and Brazil come together.

This fantastic trip starts off with a nerve-jangling rattletrap flight to Leticia, the most southerly town in Columbia and a major port on the Amazon River.

A town where people open their front porches to passers-by as makeshift restaurants, Leticia is dominated by the Amazon – arguably the world’s mightiest river. From here I embarked on an adventure down the river that I’ll certainly never forget. Continue reading Amazonas Travel Guide: 4 Days Down the Amazon

Rachel Ricks discovers Ollantaytambo, a picturesque Peruvian village that serves as the gateway to Machu Picchu.

In Peru’s Sacred Valley is a small but picturesque village where it seems on any given day, the whole world has come to converge.

It doesn’t even have an easy name to pronounce for the nationalities of the world – Ollantaytambo. And the reason everyone visits this tiny pueblo? To get to and from one of the New Seven Wonders of the World: Machu Picchu.

I spent longer than most visitors do in Ollanta – as, thankfully, it’s called for short (I panicked originally at the thought of not being able to pronounce where I was staying) – and I knew I’d love to invest more time here after my first visit. Continue reading Ollantaytambo: The Village the Whole World Passes Through

After experiencing Nepali hospitality first hand, Paul Darlow’s first rule of travel – go slowly and talk to as many people as you can – was reaffirmed.

Nepali hospitality

During one of my first visits to Nepal, I was looking around the Monkey Temple in Kathmandu. As I sat on a stone step contemplating what little I had learned about Buddhism, I saw out of the corner of my eye a Nepali man feeding a chapatti to a dog. Something told me to go over and talk to him.

Binod was his name. His mother having died when he was young, he was pushed out of his village to go to Kathmandu and look for work at the age of 12. Now in his late 20s, he ran a souvenir stall.

After chatting for a couple of hours, Binod invited me back to his house.  After an evening of buffalo curry and rakshi (the local alcoholic tipple) I was far too drunk to walk back to my guest house, so Binod offered me his bed while he took the floor.

The next morning, both of us feeling slightly worse for wear, Binod explained that an important festival was approaching and that he was going to travel to a small village where his wife and newborn baby were staying at her parents’ house. He invited me to join him – and so I found myself riding on the roof of a bus along the road to Chitwan, every now and then having to climb back inside the bus before the police checkpoints.

Nepali village life

The family we stayed with consisted of 12 people, and between them they had two one-storey, one-room houses made of mud, wood and straw. One of the buildings was about two metres by three metres; the other maybe five metres by two metres. There was one bed, no running water and no electricity. Food was cooked over an open wood fire.

After introductions and small talk, preparations for the following day’s festival commenced – yak dung mixed with mud was applied to the outsides of the houses to make them look smart, and marigolds were picked to make flour garlands while Binod and I went fishing. Unfortunately, the only fish we managed to catch were small water snails known as ‘gunghi’, so we also went and bought a chicken which was quickly dispatched, prepared and cooked.

That night, despite my reservations, Binod and I were allocated the only bed in the house. Everyone else (all 12 of them including the grandmother and two newborn babies) had to make do with the floor.

As I was falling asleep, the women gathered together at the firepit and started cooking chapatis for the next day. I think I finally drifted off to sleep at about three o’clock with the smells of cooking and the gentle chatter of Nepali women floating around me.

The Bhai Tika Festival

The next day was the Bhai Tika Festival.

‘Bhai’ means ‘brother’ in Nepali, although not necessarily in a blood-relative sense.

Each man took turns to sit on the floor as the woman selected to act as his sister for the ceremony said a few words while making a tika on our foreheads, placing a garland of flowers around our necks, and presenting us with a plate of food, a bottle of rakshi and some small gifts.

Over the next few hours the food was eaten, the rakshi drunk, and my golden rule about travelling was reaffirmed – go slowly and talk to as many people as you can, for it’s the people you remember long after you’ve left the place.

Paul Darlow manages Nepal Trekking Holidays, a travel blog dedicated to walking holidays in Nepal.

If you’ve been inspired by his experiences, you may be interested in one of these Nepal travel guides and maps:

> Nepal tear-resistant road map

> Nepal: Schneider Trekking Maps

> Lonely Planet Nepal

Gregor Swiderek reserves a special place for southern California in his heart. Aside from the obvious attractions of Hollywood, Beverly Hills and Disneyland, he says it’s a land of “unexpected gems”.

My feelings towards Los Angeles are a little ambivalent. Many dismiss it as unattractive – only seeing freeways chock-full of traffic, a sea of bland suburbs, smog, and silicon people. 

However, I would argue that it’s difficult to understand modern America without visiting Los Angeles. It’s here where many trends were – and still are – created, and where US culture is constantly transformed. In my experience, LA is one of the best places to start a tour of the west coast. Flights to LA are cheaper than to other west coast cities, and car rental is usually excellent value.

My first visit there was a brief but eye-opening one – I was en route to a summer camp in Sierra Nevada and flew to LAX (probably the only airport in the world known almost exclusively by its IATA code) before catching the Greyhound bus to Fresno, even though this meant an overnight wait.

I ended up in a nearby hotel and it was probably the strangest place I’ve ever slept. I was served by a Sikh receptionist hiding behind bulletproof glass, who asked me for a fingerprint along with my passport. There were unsavoury characters everywhere, but luckily the view over downtown was quite nice.

My next visit a few months later couldn’t have been more different. Me and my friends strolled along Hollywood Boulevard looking at the Walk of Fame’s stars, drove past the mansions of Beverly Hills and generally enjoyed Los Angeles’ more revered side.

LA’s coastal communities

But it was another visit when I discovered the best part of this metropolis: its coastal communities. I stayed in a small independent hostel in Venice, just a few minutes from the ocean. It’s here I experienced the archetypical southern California lifestyle – strolling the Venice Beach boardwalk along the famous Muscle Beach (where Arnold Schwarzenegger used to train) all the way to Santa Monica and its historic pier.

People-watching is the prime activity here, and it’s fascinating. Attractive lifeguards, old people playing chess, skateboarding teenagers, surfers, hippies; you name it, they’re all there.

Getting around

Renting a car is essential in LA. There is public transport, but it’s rather skeletal and not really useful. A car will give you independence and give you the chance to cruise LA’s legendary freeways. The first thing you notice is how vast they are, often 10 to 12 lanes wide with five-level junctions.

Southern California: A land of contrasts

Travelling south from Los Angeles, down to San Diego, is a number of beach communities. The best way of enjoying them is a lazy drive – preferably in a convertible – along the coastal highway, stopping here and there whenever you feel like it.

On the other hand, just a few miles north of Los Angeles are the San Gabriel and San Bernardino Mountains. Reaching 3,000 and 3,500 metres respectively, these are wild and rugged areas offering great hiking or skiing. Because they are heavily forested, they are more reminiscent of Oregon than California.

In the mountains are small resort towns where LA folks escape the heat of summer and enjoy winter sports. One of them is the tiny Twin Peaks, where we drove because one of my friends is a huge fan of the famous TV series. Unfortunately, after asking locals, we learnt that the show wasn’t located or shot there (apparently we weren’t the only ones asking). However, driving up there was fun as the road from San Bernardino was very scenic, rising a vertigo-inducing 1,700 metres in about 15 miles.

My favourite part of ‘SoCal’ is the desert. One of the best places to experience the desert environment is Joshua Tree National Park. Located just two-and-a-half hours east of downtown LA, it’s easy to reach yet far enough to escape the crowds. I found it after consulting my trusty California atlas while looking for something interesting and wild but not far from LA.

Joshua Tree National Park

During my visit in early June the park was almost empty – it’s one of a few places in the US where the high season is winter as summers are simply too hot. I pitched my tent at one of the best landscaped campgrounds I have ever seen, with tents nicely spread between rocks and boulders for privacy.

The park’s landscape is simply breathtaking. In addition to Joshua tree forests, the park’s western section includes some of the most interesting geological displays in California. The dominant features are hills of bare rock, usually broken up into loose boulders, while he flatland between the hills is sparsely forested with Joshua trees. Together with the boulder piles and Skull Rock, the trees make the landscape otherworldly. The only palm native to California, the California Fan Palm, occurs naturally in five oases in the park, which are perfect destinations for a hike. But due to the oppressive heat it was possible to hike only late in the afternoon and around sunset.

Unexpected gems

‘Unexpected’ is probably the best word to describe southern California. Yes, there icons like Hollywood, Disneyland, Beverly Hills and Santa Monica – but also plenty of hidden and unknown gems, a multi-ethnic population and great cuisine (away from the junk food, that is).

What’s really striking is just how many ways there are to have fun. Surfing, hiking, skiing, snowboarding, skateboarding, lounging on the beach, cruising along the coast in a convertible, shopping – just some ways of experiencing the legendary ‘SoCal’ lifestyle.

Southern California is one of the world’s top tourist destinations – and in my eyes, deservedly so.

If you’ve been inspired by Gregor’s Los Angeles and Southern California travel guide, take a look at one of these useful maps or travel guides:

> Los Angeles and Hollywood map

> California map

> Joshua Tree National Park map

Mostar, home to the Old Bridge – one of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s most famous landmarks – has had a turbulent recent history. While the city has been beautifully restored since the end of the war in 1995, Caroline Sandes discovers that it hasn’t forgotten about the events of the early-to-mid 90s.

Mostar, synonymous with that beautiful bridge, the Stari Most, was high on my list of places I wanted to visit – but at the same time I wasn’t looking forward to it. The Balkan wars may have come to an end in the mid 90s, but Mostar in 2010 was still very much under repair. Ruins of any period, modern to ancient, fascinate me but the ruins of a comparatively recent war have not yet had the tragedy weathered away.

The bus journey from Sarajevo to Mostar, once the rain had lifted, was lovely. The road twisted and turned through wooded and rocky gorges, the trees in various shades of autumnal colours, before settling into a more gentle route. Continue reading Mostar: A City Restored

Las Vegas lays claim to being America’s most entertaining city. One of its biggest fans is seasoned traveller Gregor Swiderek, who explains why he keeps going back to the Entertainment Capital of the World.

Las Vegas – A US destination I keep going back to. Why? Well, it’s a convenient base for quite a few attractions. Relatively close by are gems like the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, Zion National Park and Death Valley. But more importantly, Las Vegas is fun. Yes, it’s a cliche, but a cliche for a reason. While some pseudo-sophisticated artsy types may complain about kitsch, a lack of history and culture, it’s not something that bothers me.

I fell in love with Las Vegas ever since my first brief visit in 2001. Together with a few friends, I was driving across America – all the way from Florida to San Francisco. After spending some time at the Grand Canyon we were heading towards Yosemite National Park, and Las Vegas happened to be on our way.

Arriving in Las Vegas

It’s amazing from how far you can see Vegas’ famous lights. We were crossing the dark Arizona desert, still probably more than 100 miles away, when we spotted brightness on the horizon that grew bigger and shinier every minute. Initially, we weren’t sure what it was but then realised they were the lights of the Entertainment Capital of the World.

Las Vegas itself was hidden behind the mountains and invisible until crossing the Railroad Pass on the outskirts of its suburbs. It was an absolutely stunning view from there. In fact, driving from Arizona via US Highway 95 is probably the most spectacular approach to Sin City. From the pass you see the sea of lights filling most of the Las Vegas Valley, the brightest spot being the infamous Las Vegas Boulevard, aka The Strip.

To properly appreciate Las Vegas, arrive after sunset. I once drove into the city during the day and it didn’t have the same appeal – just another collection of malls, gas stations and fast food restaurants. But come night it’s completely transformed – countless neon lights, big bright screens, dancing fountains, music, even fireworks here and there; your senses will be overwhelmed.

The Las Vegas Strip

The best way of getting good first impression is a leisurely drive along The Strip. Here you will see all the major casinos, bars and shows. You’ll also see all the flashy cars you can imagine: sports cars, muscle cars, stretch limousines and big pick-up trucks.

We arrived there around 11 pm and left by 3 am – the busiest time in this city which never sleeps – and visited famous casinos like New York New York, Excalibur, Bellagio and Ceasars Palace. We had a great time, and I knew I’d be back.

One thing you won’t be able to miss is the Luxor hotel and casino complex – a 111 metre-high, 30-storey dark glass pyramid located on the southern end of the Strip. The pyramid’s tip has a spotlight that points directly upward – it claims to be the brightest beam in the world.

Around the building is the usual Las Vegas kitsch – in this case the Egypt-themed 43 metre-high obelisk and a replica Great Sphinx of Giza, but it doesn’t change the fact that the Luxor is a superb example of 90s Postmodernist architecture.

The Strip is like no other place on Earth. Home to some of the biggest hotels in the world, the brightest lights and some of the weirdest shows, it’s definitely one of the America’s must-sees. Where else can you see dancing fountains, mock volcanic eruptions and sirens battling pirates on the same street?

America’s most entertaining city?

Las Vegas is one of my favourite cities because it’s essentially a theme park for adults – and often, those complaining miss the point. It’s oasis of fun stuck right in the middle of desert. If you treat it as such, you’re bound to have a whale of a time.

If you’ve been inspired by Gregor’s love of Las Vegas, take a look at one of these handy Las Vegas travel guides and maps:

> Las Vegas Eyewitness Top 10

> Laminated Las Vegas street plan

> Las Vegas PopOut Map

It’s true; Mauritius is not usually thought to be a destination for hikers and mountaineers. Consider the tourist brochures depicting luxury hotels, fine white sands and blue lagoons. Think of the boredom of hearing that yet another couple is planning to take their honeymoon on a little bit of paradise in the Indian Ocean. Go on, you could even confuse Mauritius with the Maldives, and assume there are no mountains at all and that the country will soon be the first casualty of rising sea levels. Continue reading The Mountains of Mauritius