“Savour every sandwich, live each day as if it’s your last,” says Edward Readicker-Henderson, contributing editor at National Geographic Traveler and author of several favourites including ‘The Traveler’s Guide to Japanese Pilgrimages’, ‘Adventure Guide to the Alaskan Highway’ and the seminal ‘A Short History of the Honey Bee’. He opens up to Wanderink.com on what keeps him going despite a debilitating medical condition which has doctors numbering his days, how bucket lists are mistakes and the possibility of cult copyright – part naughty and part game – ‘Strip Passport’ debuting
Hic! It’s time to make amends. Since the first tourist set out – maps, bags, spirit of adventure, a premature but prickly pining for home, et al – tourism has followed many paths: heritage and medical to eco and spiritual. From the not-so-widely-spoken but practiced sex tourism to new niches like ‘graveyard’ and ‘LP’ tourism (see earlier post ‘The Walking Tourist’). A visit to Napa Valley or Nashik can be passed off for ‘wine tourism’ and everywhere else during summer, ‘beer tourism’. In the froth of all this action, the
My Land Rover phone had held me in good stead the last year when I really roughed it out – including the Parikrama of Mount Kailas in Tibet. I must have dropped it umpteen times and dropped it in flowing water, once even threw it to scare away a ferocious, snappy mutt. It was even returned to me once when I lost it – then like my friends say it could be because it resembled a bulky walkie-talkie. Whatever – it had run its course, served me well – I
India tourism office in Beijing did not even have a director till March this year. In fact, there was no need for one – outbound figures hovered around 50,000 accounting for a meagre 0.001 per cent of the global number. Now things have changed. No, it’s not that the office got a new head but ‘Life of Pi’ is out. Never so wide-eyed for 3D, I have so far only caught ‘Beowulf’ that too for Angelina, ‘Avatar’ and ‘Hugo’; never thought much about giving the miss to ‘Piranha’ for all
‘Telling Tales’ is an ongoing series on my more memorable fellow travellers. Pierre found his daughter Rebecca in more places than he looked. Strangers came up to him and told him where he would find her while some just wished him that he found whatever he was looking for. Another time a little girl, a farmhand, pointed to the picture of Rebecca Pierre carried in his wallet and assured him that she was of the land. Only catch was Pierre was a Canadian travelling through Tibet. Yet he did not
Where would we all head to if there were no more snow-capped peaks? Where would we trek if there were no more forests to trail? At the rate the polar caps are melting how many more full moons in Bali? Some days ago I got a call from a Greenpeace volunteer asking for donation; I promised her that I could do something more than just pay. So, a dull day at work, I came up with this piece of communication I hope you all will share on your social pages
“Walking is a virtue, tourism is a deadly sin,” said Bruce Chatwin. Any traveller worth his visa can rant offhand many promenades of perambulation – from the whole of Siena and parts of Rome in Italy, most parts of old Zurich to our own Mall Road in Darjeeling. Then again, how about a stroll if at least to hush that guilt-of-the-glutton every destination seems to offer? In which case, what becomes of the virtue in walking, Bruce? Then, who cares about virtue these days. Let’s just say that you are
‘Mela’ must have its origins here. Around me were colourful plastic goggles like props-in-calling for the retro-theme Vespa ads, mandating humungous physical strength from the parents to pry away boys who just stood there transfixed to imagined bell-bottomed Bollywood numbers from the 70s. Little girls stood in queue outside bangle shops awaiting their turn while the shopkeeper with grave nods and dramatic shaking of head decided on the colour of the chudi that went best with each skin. His judgment was sacrosanct and his wry little comments were met with
When the roads are too long And the sun really strong I feel awesome There, out of nowhere 20,000 Lakes everywhere I feel awesome Champakali and I squished through the marshes, stomped through the grassy lowlands and romped through the watering holes in the Chitwan National Park in Nepal for three days. Our raid was not in vain – safely ensconced atop her broad black back I saw many creatures of the wild go about their everyday and their fights for supremacy and survival. I rode in kayaks, closely encountered
As a little boy, there were so many things I knew I had to have the instant I set my eyes on it. The faculty remained intact as I grew up – just that the number of things that I wanted went up. As did the nature of the things – they either got more expensive or risky. Mostly, both. The yearning to bathe in the stream that gushed fresh lilacs by the roadside was one of those – risky as the road was narrow (I was in Kerala) and
