"You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself"
Prince Siddhartha Gautama

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Packing Up Your Troubles: A Travel Writer’s Guide to Packing

PACKING UP YOUR TROUBLES

Packing for a trip is a problem. Does your destination better suit wheelie bag or rucksack? Will you need smart clothes or will combats suffice? Will it be sizzling at your destination, or also icy up in those mountains? For work I’m normally going to out-of-the-way destinations in developing countries, so security is important: where to stash valuables so they stand least chance of being snitched on night buses; what to do with travel money (cash, or travellers’ cheques?) I’m often off for at least a month, so the need to pack sufficient clothes and books jars with the need to travel light in a job where picking up your belongings without notice to jump on a train, plane or bumpy automobile is sometimes imperative.

The headache for me when I go away for work is that I can guarantee how I pack needs to accommodate the full gamut of these extremes and more. But, over the years, I’ve more or less mastered the art of knowing what and what not to take on an adventure.

• Go with rucksack, not wheelie bag: if you’re not business travelling or on cosseted or pre-arranged trips, you’ll regret dragging your suitcase over ramp-less pavements or pot-holed side-streets. Rucksacks are infinitely more user-friendly.
• RESEARCH YOUR DESTINATION’S WEATHER BEFOREHAND. Don’t bring a padded North Face jacket to the Caribbean; DO remember that for most destinations between 50° north and 40° south a minimum of a lightweight waterproof and a warm jumper/fleece is essential torso-wise year-round.
• Swimming trunks and sunglasses: I’ve never been anywhere, cold or hot, where I haven’t needed them.
• Laptop: for bloggers or for keeping in touch, even outposts of third-world countries are embracing Wi-Fi. It’s more convenient than trundling to an Internet cafe.
• Space-savers: take shampoo over shower gel; take only one or two books, then rely on the universal travel etiquette of book exchange, pack extra tops over second/third pairs of trousers/shorts.

Then there are all those seemingly-insignificant-but-never-the-less-vital packing tips. A pair of scissors is a must-have. Go with European and American adapters: sockets vary; usually in places you need the other sort most. Always pack a kinetic-motion torch. Batteries melt. Travellers’ cheques are a good idea but inconvenient unless you’re visiting large population centres. Distribute cash in several places, putting large notes/cash cards in a money belt. Subtlety, remember, is the defining art of packing.

Istanbul the Sly Way

Bosphorus, Istanbul

For a city that has embraced Europe in nearly every way, Istanbul is still on the other side of the divide between west and east for cheap flights. In some senses, this is a positive thing: the city won’t become a weekend stag party venue for fun-seeking Northern Europeans like Prague or Budapest have any time soon. Generally, though, it’s frustrating: for a fascinating city merely three and a half hours in flight time from London, it’s pretty inaccessible (the grand old days of the Orient Express might not be over, but the train will set you back over £5,000). There is a solution: last minute holidays. Buy a deal (often under £400 per person for a week, all-inclusive) to one of Turkey’s resorts such as Izmir, then as part of your weeks of sun and sand on the coast you can factor in a side trip to Istanbul via a stylish combination of train and super-fast ferry.

The most convenient train connection leaves Izmir at 09.25, running through gently-rolling farmland, and arrives in Bandirma (where, incidentally, the last shot of WW1 was fired) at 14.56, in time for the 15.30 ferry across the Sea of Marmara to Istanbul. This boat will be a well-appointed car and passenger boat, with arrival time in Istanbul being approximately 17.30, and the entire train-and-ferry cost TL47 (£15.90). The still speedier passenger-only catamaran seabus (deniz otobüsü in Turkish) regularly zips across the Sea of Marmara along the same route: routes are included on Istanbul metro cards, which take one of two forms: either the Akbil or the newer electronic Istanbulkart (TL10 for the card, then add credit of TL 1.75-2 per seabus ferry journey; getting TL15 credit will probably suffice for a couple of days’ public transport costs in Istanbul) which is replacing the Akbil.

As famed travel writer Eric Newby once said, “the best arrivals are by sea” and this is one of the relatively few options left in Europe of approaching a city by water for the first time. It really is ever bit as spectacular as it sounds, with sensational views of the Sultan Ahmed Mosque (Blue Mosque) as you complete your careening approach helping to give a picture-postcard first view of the city. When you get into the Yenikapi ferry terminal, you’re also right in the centre of Istanbul action, within walking distance of many city attractions and with direct connections via the metro too.

And why make the trip to Istanbul from your flashy Izmir resort? Why make the trip to the world’s only city poised between two continents, containing some of the grandest mosques, temples and bazaars and easily the planet’s very best coffeehouses? That’s one question you don’t need to ask.

Sun City’s Hot New Cultural Scene

To get the nickname sun city in sweltering Northern Mexico, you can imagine how hot Hermosillo, capital of the state of Sonora, is. But this desert metropolis has a burgeoning cultural scene, thanks to cash injections from the region’s wealthy cattle farmers, and the focal point is the stunning new Musas cultural/contemporary art centre just south of Plaza Zaragoza.

The set-piece installation of the impressive, airy new building is the vibrant VW in the entrance-way with a teetering ladder leeading from the car roof seemingly up into space: a reference perhaps to the car industry which might have made Hermosillo the affluent city it now is, but has been a somewhat precarious economic fallback of recent years.

But Musas, the modern mascot of a modern city, draws on far more than this for its inspirational art. The permanent collection draws upon Hermosillo past as well as present, with a focus on the region’s indigenous peoples, such as the Seri. There is also currently the moving Fin del Camino exhibition by Miguel Fernandez, which explores the idea of desert (surrounding Hermosillo on all sides) and space.

All in all, an impressive example of how a city can turn around its image, and its attractiveness to tourists, by the creation of a single museum.

Aalborg’s Waterfront Transformation

When I got into Aalborg, the information boards made no sense. There were streets and buildings that simply didn’t exist on my map. And, always a topic of mild concern for a guidebook writer, the tourist office with which I had an appointment, appeared to be no more.

Then I walked down Boulevarden to where this port city meets its waterfront, along the opening of Limfjorden. And it became clear. Aalborg had been transformed.

In place of the old industrial swathe of town that had stagnated the area north of the Medieval quarter and east of its main shopping street as recently as 2005, a new Aalborg was rising out of the ashes.

An audio park that played various pieces of classical music from within an intriguing series of stone pyramids now greets the eye on Slotspladsen, a pedestrianised waterside area beside Aalsborg Slot which, along with the rest of the city’s still-enticing Medieval core, seems no longer to be the focus of the new Aalborg.

It’s a brave move, ditching medieval for modern, industrial chic, but if there was a place that could do it, it was here, the home of the architect behind the Sydney Opera House (Jorn Utzon). And, sure enough, Utzon had a major part to play in Aalborg’s revamp, I discovered. His Utzon Center project, a daring construction inspired by his wanderings through shipyards as a young boy, was his last commission before he died in 2008 and stands as the fitting catalyst for change along the Aalborg waterfront. To the east of the Limfjorden bridge, it’s now a cool cafe/restaurant and, most importantly, a platform for architectural exhibitions and development.

Just a block or so inland, I found the tourist office. Hiding behind a new shopping centre (including the latest branch of Denmark’s stylish budget hotel chain Cabinn), the centre was part of Nordkraft, a former coal power station now transformed Tate-style into a concert and exhibition venue, with an arthouse cinema and a number of cool new bars and restaurants. The design has kept totally in touch with the old, industrial Aalborg, too, with thecoal chute and everything still exposed and the grime the coaldust created an absorbing part of the decoration.

“So what?” I asked Catherine, a dedicated member of the campaign behind Aalborg’s rebranding “is that big construction site beyond the Utzon Centre going to be?”

“Just the new site of Denmark’s national orchestra” she informed me calmly.

Aalborg, it seems, still has a few surprises up its sleeve. And the best thing about it is that industry, far from becoming just a museum exhibit, is still a living, breathing part of the city fabric. In fact, it’s not even that far away. The country’s main Aquavit distillery is just down the waterfront and across the fjord, the smoking chimneys of Aalborg’s current industry are now just far enough away to appear, yep, beautiful.

And before I get the comments floding in, yes, the picture is of Newcastle. Another waterside city recently transformed through great projects using former industry as the key to regeneration, such as the Baltic centre. Isn’t the link obvious? I’m still getting used to this…

Denmark Trip

Ok, so having attended a talk on the importance of tweeting I’m now doing it – regularly! Please follow excerpts and updates from my research trip in Denmark by clicking on the Twitter link.

THE WORK CONUNDRUM

In celebration of my recently revamped website or, indeed, my miraculously resuscitated server, high time methinks for a few words on the lamentable situation facing the freelance writer. That’s right: WORK.

The flow of it, specifically. I mean, here am I, absolutely snowed under with various projects – hastening to meet deadlines and tap-tapping away at the keyboard with barely a backward glance at the sun coming in through the window and yet,six or seven months ago I was pitching like mad to anyone who had the ords “travel” or “editor” in their job description and barely a favourable response coming back.

A lot of it I can attribute to having been accepted into the British Guild of Travel Writers, of course. Not so much through a sudden flurry of specific contracts, but through talking to colleagues who, regardless of whether the problem is editorial cold shoulders or, ahem, defunct servers, one can pool advice with, swap bizarre stories, offer tips on publications to approach and, generally, just BE colleagues. I never thought I would miss office politicis, crushed commutes or whiling away the day looking at pointless Youtube videos forwarded from the guy at the next desk. But all that nine-to-five stuff does come with a certain sociability. For me the Guild has filled the void left by just that: the lack of simple everyday socialising after going solo. And, of course, it’s given me a Helluva hectic work schedule.

All I want is to have a REASONABLE amount of work coming in. Not a dearth, not an overload. This will mean I will have a REASONABLE amount of money coming in. Not using the tail end of my overdraft, not splashing my cash on an expensive weekend away because my bank account looks suddenly (briefly) healthy. Is that too much to ask? Until then, I’d better stop writing blogs and get on with some work…

INTO THE GUILD!

AFTER A FAR MORE INTENSE interview than I’d anticipated on Tuesday (there must have been twelve or fourteen well-established – some would say veteran! – travel writers round a table in the Strand Palace Hotel questioning me on why I’d be interested in joining) I was accepted into the British Guild of Travel Writers yesterday.

I’M REALLY LOOKING forward to this, and not just for selfish reasons. Yes, it allows me to mix with some of the best travel writers in the industry which is an honour and a privelige. Yes, to be able to associate oneself with the defining mark of recognition within one’s chosen career is a definite added string to the bow.

BUT IT’S A TWO-WAY thing. I’m also really excited about contributing to a body dedicated to improving standards of UK travel-writing. Pooling knowledge and experience – and having people you can talk to about both – is one of the most important touchstones in a profession where a vast amount of one’s time is spent, whilst admittedly in great places, ALONE in those places. That applies to every travel writer – well-estblished, aspiring or yet-to-be.

PITCHES

SO AS IS THE CURSE of a lot of my colleagues in the travel writing business right now, I am “between contracts” and, of course, pitching frantically for my next one.

WHICH HAS GIVEN ME, of course, ample time for reflection. I was wondering how much of my time I actually devote to “pitching” and how much to completing paid assignments. For me I’d say it’s probably about 30/70. When you look at the spaces out there for paid freelance writing work of any description, they are few and far between.

I HAVE BEEN FINDING, recently, that all the cool (and presumably cash-strapped or, more likely, plain stingy) media companies offer internships these days.

WHICH IS, OF COURSE, slave labour under another name. I mean, you wouldn’t agree to be a postman or a builder for free for months on end. It is absolutely ridiculous. It isn’t as if interns in these companies will be sitting with their feet up; on the contrary they wll probably be working as hard as they ever will in their lives. And the old argument about all these writing positions being part of a priveliged non-essential industry is also farcical. Maybe reading isn’t essential, but everyone does it. And whichever company supplies the material makes a tidy profit, tidy enough to actually pay the people that provide the content SOMETHING!

I’D BE INTERESTED to hear the thoughts of other freelancers on this. Why do people think they can get away with paying us next to nothing, given the amount of time we devote to work that is, essentially, unpaid?

ANYWAY, BACK TO the pitching!

THOUGHTS/COMMENTS? Email Luke at lwaterson@gmail.com

DRIZZLE

WHAT’S WITH ALL THIS dreary weather? Even the staff in Crystal Palace garden centre are saying they want some of that sun back. Give me any extreme of weather. Give me scorching heat, give me torrential rain, but don’t give me bland, grey nothingness! London: this is making me want to leave you. For almost anywhere else…

LONELY PLANET BIO

IT’S LIVE ON the LP website, folks. I’m getting quite good at summarising my life in a paragraph, these days.