Number 174 - The King David Hotel, Israel

Not much to say about this place really. Its the top hotel in Jerusaleum, presidents stay there, it has lovely gardens, not bad cocktails, and is just another 5 star hotel in the world charging north of US$550 a night.

Doesnt deserve a place in the 1000 places to see before you die.

There you have it

Number 173 - Madasa, Israel

The old Palace of King Herod (who never used it and found no happiness after killing his wife and marrying 10 other more nubile younger women!)

Number 172 - Temple Mount, Jerusalem

Number 171 - Brandenburg Gate, Berlin

Now, Ill be the first to confess that Im not a history buff. In fact I know little about any of the World Wars. But even I have to say I had a choked up moment when I stared up at the Brandenburg Gate, recognising it instantly despite never knowing its name before then.

Berlin, so rich in modern history, was proving to be a fascinating whistle stop tour. And tours is what I did- two a day- and yet regret that there were a further 3 that I did not have time to do- I will have to return!! I had visited two places earlier that morning- both moving in different ways.

The first was the Holocaust Memorial, easily (and Id just come from Israel so Id seen what I assumed would be the best), one of the most moving such memorials Id visited. Designed by
In the ground underneath, accessed only after going through more security checks than an airport, was the factual part of the memorial. Here photos of people who died. In one darkened room, a voice read out letters of people describing to their family and friends what was happening to them, while at our feet backlit inserts on the floor housed letters written by people in the Ghetto to their family and friends, together with an update, where possible, as to what happened to the letter writer.

The second visit was to the first ever exhibition of Hitler approved by the German Government .......................................as told from the viewpoint of the German people. Bound to be controversial, it was perhaps a wee bit of a mental overload to have visited the Jewish memorial before. Nonetheless, this was history, and in a city like Berlin, so full of modern history, I was determined to experience it all. And, due to the focus of the exhibition being about life in Germany then and who Hitler was to the populace, the Holocaust formed only a small part of the overall exhibition.

It is rather hard to explain this exhibition without, in my unknowledgeable view of modern history, getting into some seriously hot water. Suffice to say- if it does travel, it is a must see- and hopefully by then they will have translated alot of the exhibits into English and at least provided English subtitles to the movie excerpts of Hitler. For the first time, I could almost understand why my German friends have always seemed embarrassed by Hitler and feel the need to almost apologise for being German. The exhibition delved quite heavily into the psyche of the German populace at the time of the rise of Hitler- and thus gave some explanations as to his rise in power and how he could do, politically and legally, what he did during his tenure. All the time there was this unhidden current running through the exhibition as to how the German people supported Hitler and the Nazi movement in its activities. Controversial! Absolutely fascinating.

But again, I digress.........

A bit of history of the Brandenburg Gate which is probably one of the most famous, and photographed monuments in the world. It was built by King Frederick William 11 of Prussia in 1788 and became not only one of the Nazi party's symbols but also that of divided Berlin. It is the only remaining gate of an original 18 in the city of Berlin, and it opened on to a boulevard which led directly to the Prussian city palace.Peter Eisenman after many years on hold, it consists of 2711 stones, all of different heights and sizes, laid in a grid like fashion on uneven and unlevel stones but which created the feeling of being in a maze due to the sheer height of some of the slabs. I was told by the tour guide that the feeling the artist wanted visitors to experience was the uncertainty that the Jews faced at the time- not knowing what was around the next corner, not knowing which road might get you out to walk free down the street, seeing the sun shining above your head but not being able to sit down and admire it due to the walls of slabs around you, not knowing if you would stumble on your next step, the glimpse through the stones of a road full of people- but which was blocked on your next step.
Its inspiration being the entrance to the Acropolis, the Gate is formed by twelve Doric columns creating five passageways- the centre largest one was for the royal family with citizens allowed to use the outermost two. At the top, re-instated after Napoleon originally took it to Paris after the 1806 defeat of Prussia, the Roman goddess of victory, Victoria, rides a chariot drawn by four rather uncontrollable looking horses.



In the days of the Berlin Wall, which extended either side of the gate, it was one of the crossings between east and west Berlin but it was closed by East Berlin as a checkpoint in 1961 and was not to reopen until almost 30 years later. As such, the gate become a symbol for the reunification of Berlin and was the site for Ronald Reagan's famous words "Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall."

Nowadays anyone- bar cars- can cross through its arches. The square flanking it is full of tourists, touts, protestors and....walking tours!!

And its off to another one of these that I must go now....
　

 

Number 170 of the 1000 places to see before you die - Polar Bears in Churchill Manitoba, Canada

I was at the end of a round the world trip with the last two flights to take into North America when i jumped on the Boeing from London to head to Toronto. As well as being able to knock off a couple places in the 1000 places to see before you die in Toronto, the timing was also good to head into the tundra of Churchill, in the Canadian province of Manitoba to see the largest population of polar bears outside of the Artic circle.

From late October hundreds of bears congregrate at this remote town, self proclaimed as the Polar Bear Capital of the World, waiting for the bay to freeze completely so that they can cross over and head north into their winter hunting grounds. Churchill has the fastest access on to the ice, which in freezing winter aside from the bears has little other reason for visitation bar the fab food at Gypsy's cafe along with its exotic Portugese son of the owner. Population swells from some 1000 people as more than 8000 tourists trickle into town for polar bear season. With limited accomodation and facilities, the town stretches to breaking point during these two months with every restaurant booked out solid by the tour groups.

The best way to see these bears- and to learn about them- is by a tour ( in fact I think its the only way) and so i signed up with Natural Habitats, one of the world's leaders in nature expenditions led by trained guides. Checking in at Winnipeg I met my tour leader and the other 9 people in the group. The first thing to sort out was a battery for my newly purchased Sony- an upgrade at Heathrow as I thought having a 10* zoom feature would be necessary in order to capture the bears- how wrong I was in this impression I was to find out less than 24 hours later.

An early morning charter flight had us winging up to Churchill some 1900 km away. My group was to stay in the town for the 4 day trip- the 20 others on the tour were to head out to the tundra where they would stay in a semi permanent buggy camp for the entire time. I was feeling a bit knackered from my 19 cities in 6 continents in 32 days, so id picked the town option in the hope that I could have a few massages and do some shopping while I was there.

After a check in at the very rustic motel- replete with a standing 8 foot polar bear and a twinkling plastic Christmas tree in the wooden clad lounge- we had lunch then headed out for a tour of the town. An ancient yellow school bus had been commandered as our means of moving about- let me tell you heating was not one of its features! Churchill was a brisk minus 2 degrees celsius and that was a lunchtime. Nighttime temperatures were expected to drop to minus 23 degrees. Not making it a habit of mine to spend any time in colder climates I was grateful that the organisers had provided outdoor winter jackets and boots- but I still had to supplement this with 2 scarves, 3 layers of shirts, a beannie, thermal underwear and ski socks, in order to stay somewhat warm.

After a tour of the town- about 8 streets, one post office, one bank, a couple of souvenir shops, some run down motels and 4 restaurants, we then headed to the outskirts of town where our driver, Kerry, had been informed that a polar bear was being "moved on." In human speak, that means that the bear, who was merely trying to get to the freezing ice, had come to close to town and needed to be moved in another direction for the safety of the townsfolk. In the distance we heard the pop of air rifles going off as the polar bear rangers kept the bear moving at a steady clip over the snow covered roads and rocks until it was out of town. It was, I admit, pretty thrilling to finally see the world's largest carnivore albeit from a distance of some 600 metres or so as we were not allowed to get between the bear and the rangers' trucks.

After checking we were all suitably frozen to our seats from cold and awe, Kerry then regaled us with stories on polar bear encounters in the town. Everyone was always on alert for the bears in or close to town as they had just come out of their hibernation and were starving. Bears can lose X kilograms during hibernation and the desire to feed, at any cost, can cause conflict with humans. The rangers worked around the clock in shifts, responding to calls from residents waking up to the sound of their garbage bins being overturned, or sighting a bear through the frost of their windows. Or indeed "incidents" like one silly chap who decided to go for a walk down the main drag at night and happened upon a bear (killed and munched on the spot). Rules with polar bears- Do not move and do not play dead!! The rangers apparently get very good at recognising each bear and operate a "three strikes and youre out rule." The third time a bear is caught trespassing, so to speak, close to town they are sedated and moved into the Polar Bear Holding Facility.

This huge drum of a shed lies about 15 minutes drive out of town. Here the bears are segregated into high pens so as to reduce their stress of being close to each other (they are solitary animals and the females with cubs particularly avoid at all costs interactions with male bears who will kill the offspring to bring the female back into a breeding state). They are kept until the Bay has frozen over before being re-released. Apparently the experience of this is enough that they learn not to transgress the following year. In the old days Kerry told us, bears were fed in the shed- but then the following year a number of these bears returned to the shed seeking free handouts. So perhaps they actually are capable of understanding that this is the equivalent of a football player's time on the bench.

We were fortunate enough on the last day to see one of the bears being released. A huge operation that needs to be sponsored by someone due to the cost as the bear needs sedation, wheeling out, careful manouvering onto a large fishing net type of sack which is then roped together, attached to a hook on the bottom of a helicopter, which then slowly ascends and, once the vets have checked that the bear is going to be fine, rises into the distance with a back up helicopter transporting the bear some 30km up the coast.
In this case, we had the pleasure of not only watching the bear going up in the sky, but also Martha Stewart, the cooking tv personality, freshly out of her own "on the bench" seat of 5 months in a federal penitentiary, board her private plane next to the bear and fly off after it for more shots as she had been in town filming for her tv show and had sponsored the bearlift. If you see this programme on her show you might see a person, replete in green parka and black beannie, slightly to the left of the bear when its hanging about 30cm off the ground, jumping up and down waving her arms for the camera- that'll be me!! No doubt I wont make the first cut but hay ho!!

Anyhow, it was now about 4pm and the sun was setting fast so we headed out to the tundra for a night time drive. As always when in the middle of wildlife, security was paramount, so we arrived at the tundra buggy garage where we were only allowed to disembark once a woolly looking man with a large rifle arrived at the front door to walk us the 15 metres to the back of the buggies. With tyres alone at some 2 metres tall- the only way into the buggy was off the concrete bunker that had been specifically constructed for this purpose into the back of the buggies. Holding about 40 people and about 15 metres long, the 9 of us had plenty of room to spread about and take a window each.

And so into the ghostly darkness we went, eddies of snow gently swirling around us, headlights blaring, we rumbled down marked out tracks in the bleakness of the tundra searching for wildlife. It did not take us long before we came across a mother and two cubs- however they are very skittish with babies and she moved quickly out of our range before we could get a good look at her. We then moved out to the permanent tundra buggy motel that Natural Habitats had a license for, and there we had a bit more luck. Hungry bears, attracted by the smell of cooking and looking for some appetizers before the main course of seal arrived, were roving up and down the buggy, some rising up to the windows to peer in at the startled guests eating their night meal. After an hour of watching the action, with the temperature in the buggy plummeting as people lowered their windows to take a volley of photos, we headed back to town.

Being a Friday night, and conscious that I was by far the youngest in my group of fellow explorers, I waived the early to bed instructions and hit the bar of the motel. Like a time warp, it was still faithfully decorated in the 60's style when it had been built. I was told by the bar girl (who didnt look older than 16), that as the motels only really operated for tourist season and were always fully booked there was no point in "funkying them up" she said- bringing me an irish coffee. I then settled down in a rickety old granpa chair to hear the local band- very famous in these parts as they were the only band in town AND had recorded an album play. I have to say they were damm good. I even confess to having tears in my eyes at one stage when they did an amazing cover of Men at Work's song "I come from the land Down Under"  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6oAFlPLGA8). How surreal to be in the middle of nowhere, literally, on a freezing winter night, and hear a Canadian band singing about vegemite!! 
  
The next morning we went out for our first full day drive on the tundra. Action time. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, the ground was frozen, my camera was ready- and I was one very excited bunny indeed. The day proved to surpass my expectations. You see I thought that we would see bears at a distance. Instead of which, the bears, who could smell our tasty sandwiches a mile off, could not resist us. Dont get me wrong- this is a very carefully controlled environment. No food is allowed outside the inside of the buggy, no one is allowed to feed the bears or put their arms outside any window (standing up the bears standing up easily reached the bottom window which was not moveable and sat some 3 metres off the ground) and you clearly are never allowed outside your buggy either ( they can run at speeds of 40 km/hour). Each buggy was fitted with an outdoor viewing platform about 3 by 2 metres- metal sides with mesh on the floor so you could see the ground.

And that was my first surprise when outside on this platform. A young female wandered right over to us and spent the next 20 minutes sniffing the air, her huge teeth a few millimetres from our feet, separated only by the wire mesh. At one stage she reared up, placing her massive paws on the sides of the platform with her shiny black nose about 10cm away. They had said not to make any noise when the bears were around, but when she finally sat back on her haunches and looked up at us, you could hear the rushed exhale of air from every one of us.

Its pretty hard to describe the feelings of being so close to such a powerful animal that could kill you with just an accidental swipe of their paws. Given their hibernation and lack of fat on their bodies, you could see the outline of over developed muscles moving under their coats. The heavily rounded hindquarters spoke of the strength they possessed. Massive paws barely made a sound as they traversed on the snow. The need to withstand long distances of travel with uncertain food supplies, had evolved into a massively strong body with a small head. Tiny ears with round intelligent black eyes seemed an afterthought from the overproportioned long nose with its gleaming black tip. Baby pink gums with 15 cm front incisors lay in front of a full set of sharp teeth. Their creamy white coat hang in layers- a shorter coarser coat lying closer to the skin for insulation. Entirely captivating. You wanted to say "here, kitty kitty kitty" and give them a tickle behind their ears. But of course this was the world's most largest carnivore, unfraid of man and they were very hungry.

The next day was adventure time- a helicopter ride over the tundra, a visit to a birthing den, a mushing adventure with huskies. What fun!

It became extremely hard over the next four days to work out just which was the best encounter with the bears. It is very easy to get caught up in the cuteness of them- watching them roll around in the snow, becoming blase about all the times they were pacing alongside and standing up on our buggy, the sheer numbers of them hanging around in frustration for the waters to completely freeze over. Personally, watching two males play wrestle with each other was however the highlight. Fully grown and standing over 3 metres high, two of them decided to pit their strengths against each other in a mock battle. Teeth bared they rose up on their hind legs and repeatedly smashed into each other. A bare 5 metres away you automatically shuddered at the sounds of 600 kilogram bodies colliding into each other. Evenly matched, neither bear gave ground at the meeting of each body. For 40 minutes we watched them rear up, collide, drop to the ground before repeating the process over and over again.

It had made for a magical last day...with tonight's treat- hopefully a magnificent display of the aurora borealis over the tundra... but thats number 168 of the 1000 places to see before you die!

Number 169 - Arizona Biltmore Resort & Spa

The Arizona Biltmore Resort & Spa is the only surviving hotel in the world in whose design Frank Lloyd Wright participated. It's also one of Americas oldest resort hotels - it opened in 1929.

Number 168 - Aurora Borealis, Canada

It was quite refreshing to be able to knock over two of the 1000 places to see before you die all in the same spot. Albeit the book suggested a different country to watch the aurora borealis- or northern lights..but I figured Churchill in Manitoba was as good as spot as any.

The report was looking promising for an excellent aurora that night and so, rather tired after a day on the tundra with the polar bears, we reconvened in the lobby at 9pm for a drive to the Stardrome. Rented permanently by Natural Habitats during polar bear season, this little odd trailer-home structure had a huge heated perspex bubble on the roof, accessible by a very narrow, steep ladder. And so it was, with a few bottles of red, my new female friends from the trip bravely set out to sit out the night praying that it was going to be a good aurora. Boys being boys of course, they rugged up and stood outside with tripods and fancy cameras and lens to try to capture the display.
Now an aurora is a natural light display in the sky particularly in the polar regions- so we were in prime position! It is caused by the collision of charged particles directed by the Earth's magnetic field. I was told that in fact they occur all the time but are best observed by the naked eye at night and in the rather narrow belt of between 60 and 72 degrees north and south latitudes. Wikipedia tells me they are named after the Roman goddess of dawn, Aurora,and the Greek name for wind- Boreas. There you have it!

Anyhow, for the next three hours we alternated between turning on the heater and fogging up the perspex...and turning it off and shivering as we watched the night sky unfold above our very heads. Firstly all the stars came out and, in a place with no competing lights from any habitation, we had pole position (pardon the pun) to pull out our primary school knowledge and partake in a few star guessing games. Given that at best the only one I can find is the Southern Cross I was bound to fail from the start!

And then finally the big event happened.

The sky started to shimmer and shake, the stars seemed to fade and lose their lustre and then whoosh- a multitude of greens hit the sky and started slowly dancing across the horizon. A huge ribbon of green that undulated and stretched, folding over itself and twisting before slowly straightening and creeping forward like an aged man as it moved above the tundra. Like tiny shooting stars, pinpricks of colour seemed to sparkle within the ribbon, bouncing with radiance and seemingly trying to escape the ghostly stream as it swirled and steadied itself, before moving again. Edges of red appeared in places seeming to further constrict the moving green band as the whiteness of the snow reflected the coloured mist further and the tundra stood in awed silence while the gods danced across the skies.

Sheets of green flew overhead as the whole sky seemed to turn into a ball of colour, undulating and pulsing as if to find its limits. Pale and ghostly, a line stretched across the horizon, merging into blues and purples as it spread and moved like flowing river streams across the night sky. At times it looked like thousands of ants, each with a tiny green light on their back, were marching in straight lines up and down the night sky- faster and faster they skipped and hopped and jumped in joyful abandonment up and down the coloured river banks as they pooled and eddied across the inky sky.

There was nothing but silence in the dome.....
　
　

Copyright: Thanks to Stephen Rademan www.stephenrademan.com who braved the outside all night taking these spectacular shots.

Place 167 - The Art Gallery of Toronto

Glad to see The Maharajas Exhibition which I missed by a week at the V&A in London. Also the largest collection of Thomas Mores - more than 800 donated. I also discovered a new fab artist - Julain Schnabel.

 

Place 166 - Museum Island, Berlin

166 place: Museum Island, Berlin: A cache of 5 museums whose lodestone is the Pergamon Museum, built exclusively to house the colossal 2nd Century BC Pergamon Altar (a 40ft high Greek Temple with 27 steps leading up to it) bought to Germany from Turkey in 1902.

Place 165 - Joe's Stone Crab, Miami Beach

It was a rather rushed day. Id given myself a 6 hour lay over in Miami to nip out and see a few things in the 1000 places to see before you die book. After going on a nice walk down South Beach, a detour to the new Soho House Miami (fabulous!), I went in search of lunch at Joe's Stone Crab, one of the 1000 places.

Joe's was opened as a small lunch counter in 1913 serving largely fish and chips. In 1921, as a result of a chance largely when one of the founder's friends built an aquarium at the foot of the Bay and 5th Street, a researcher brought along some stone crabs from the Bay to cook for lunch. And that was it-

Anyhow, at first it was a bit confusing. It seems it has expanded into two restaurants only one of which was open. There is one counter which is a takeaway - albeit set out in a very top end takeaway style with fresh salads, fish and trays and trays of stone crab.

On the other a sit down restuarant with a counter bar- which is where I sat myself down to a treat of medium stone crabs with slaw and fries. And it was good. Very good. But then I love crab!!
from seventy-five cents for four or five crabs, twenty-five cents for potatoes and twenty-five cents an order for coleslaw in 1921 they have progressed to about US$40 per four or five crabs and $7 for potatoes . Fedexed daily anywhere in America and, allegedly, a staunch favourite of J Lo and Madonna, Joe's Stone Crabs has become a firm family and celebrity favourite.

Now, everyone likes a home grown success story. Especially when it involves immigrants making it good in the US of A . A story of using something that was plentiful in the local surroundings but which no one before had thought to eat. A family that created a business that became succesful enough to provide a great living for fellow descendents. And dont get me wrong- the crab was also very good.

But I have to admit, Im failing to understand why this restaurant was selected in the 1000 places to see before you die. I mean its a nice, family run, quaint, cute and very clean, upmarket, well marketed takeaway.....of crabs.

But Im failing to see if I would travel to come and see this place. And that is what the 1000 places is all about I thought. I can think of quite a few restaurants Id travel to - Noma in Denmark, El Bulli in Spain when it re-opens, Fat Duck in England every quarter when they changed their menu, none of which feature in the 1000 places to see before you die.
For this reason...Im going to find....or not....a replacement entry for Miami in the 1000 places...let the hunt begin

Place 164 - Palace of Winds, Jaipur

India had done me in and Id only been in the country for 4 days.

I couldnt decide what was worse- the sheer noise as millions of people went about their daily lives, the madness of the roads where tuk-tuks and cars, their drivers with one hand on the wheel and the other permanently on the horn, all madly weaved in amongst scrawny and dirty cows, the beggers and hawkers accosting you at every step along the pavements of battered and broken dreams, or the smells- humanity and its by-product- filth.

Delhi, home to some 14 million people at last count with India housing some 1.18 billion people. 32.7% under the poverty line- a statistic which in a percentage form fails to convey the bleakness of being born in this bracket. That is 410 million people who failed to be able to afford one square meal a day with minimum nutritional needs. The poverty line, so the UN had decreed was earning under some US$1.25 a day. Globally, India accounts for 17% of the world's population but about one third of the world's people living in poverty. It was heartbreaking that, when faced with the daily pitifulness of people trying to eek out a living, my heart was becoming resolutely harder each day. For handing out a few battered rupees to the old man huddled outside my hotel, a smelly bunch of rags swathed around his bony body, a stump of a left leg and a non existent right leg propping his weathered torso up on a piece of cardboard, a few red stained teeth left in a brown slash of a mouth downturned on one side with a permanent trickle of saliva flowing down his leathered face, did little to alleviate his life....or the four more sitting next to him, let alone the 38 I counted as I walked to a restaurant around the corner.

While my heart might have been hardening, the guilt however was omnipresent and rising. Imagine what the US$140 a night my room had cost me would mean to the old beggar. I spent more in one week than what some Indians had a whole year to live on. What would the hotel say if I brought him in to have a bath in my room? or a meal in their restaurant? Would he have a tale to tell me as to how he ended up on the streets...or was this where he started in life and stayed? Did he once have the same dreams I had as a child- to be an astronaut or a fireman or a scientist? Had he reconciled those dreams with how his life had turned out...or did he fight daily against the futileness each waking hour brought?

Throughout all my time in this country, one educated, well-off, travelled, happy go lucky and somewhat short tempered gremlin sat on my shoulders saying the same thing over and over....."how lucky you are not to have been borne here". How was it that India could bring the dichotomy of the have and have-nots so brutely into view? If you were borne here, how would you get out? Could you get out? What would you spend the day doing if you had to stay there? What caste could you have been borne to? I think if I was born in India, I'd want to be a Hindu as Id need to believe in re-incarnation. It might well be the only way to hold on to some sanity in this country.

But I digress- Palace of Winds or Hawa Mahal to give it its proper name, in Jaipur- known as the Pink City.

While the colours are pretty spectacular in the fading sunlight or at sunrise, Im not sure this is one of the 1000 places to see before you die. Built in 1799 by Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh of Rajasthan out of pink and red sandstone and designed in the form of the crown of Krishna, it is rather unusal to look at. About 1000 tiny latticed stone windows rise some 5 storeys high in a honeycomb structure. The palace is actually little more than a facade, built in the days when the royal harem, in purdah and therefore not allowed to be seen by anyone, could overlook the activity on the street below safely. As the palace sits on the main road of Jaipur, perhaps in the days of its use the women were comforted to see life as they would have experienced it on the ground before they entered the royal life. All the chaos of being in India...you guessed it- tuk- tuks, cars, beggars, filth, souks and.....those bloody cows! Personally, if I was in the harem of a Maharaja, despite Wikipedia saying that the Mahal is a counterpart of Versailles- even if I was just one of hundreds- I can think of 1000 better views Id be demanding.

And one of those was less than 500 clicks down the road- Lake Palace...now that is definately worthy of one of the 1000 places to see before you die.

Place 163 - The City & Lake Palace, Udaipur, Rajastan

It was day 5 in India with 5 more days to go. I have to confess I was counting each one down- desperate to get out. Each day seemed a little bit harder to force myself out of the hotel, on to the streets, into a tuk tuk, to the airport or to a sight. Id already done 4 internal flights and one overnight train journey in the quest to see something of the country, desperate to find one thing that made me say upon my return home "I just loved India" but my weary body was just screaming "halt" and my brain was telling me just to give up.

Each place I went to had only brought temporary respite- perhaps a pool in the hotel, or a great reading corner, or a scented garden to walk amongst.......but the fact remained that sooner or later you needed to leave to go outside and face all the noise, the people, the rubbish, the beggers....... and those bloody cows.

And so it was flicking through the book 1000 places to see before you die I made a change in route and flew down to Udaipur to stay in a palace in the middle of a lake. Oh yes- definately no cows or beggers or tuk tuks or people or rubbish in the middle of Lake Pichola I thought.

A short plane flight later (after narrowly almost managing to my flight as the word "e-ticket" doesnt exist in India and you need to carry a printout of your ticket before you are even allowed entry into the airport terminal) I landed in Udaipur. From the moment I was greeted in the airport by a peaked hat chauffeur offering me an ice cold cloth and a bottle of water, I thought to myself that I might have found the place worth returning to.

And that was before we stepped outside and he settled me into a phantom rolls royce the palace had sent. We nimbly skirted the main drag of town and pulled in at a reception area on the banks of Lake Pichola. My luggage was removed, I was given a check in form, a glass of champagne and another cold cloth and informed that my boat was ready and waiting. Boat???

They werent joking. Replete with flags and standard, a boat was sitting on the shore ready to take me to the hotel which was, quite literally, in the middle of the lake with no access to the mainland. At this stage you can just see me hopping up and down in excitement. My grin was a mile long- about as long as the island was off the shore!

This might actually be worthy of being the top 1 in the 1000 places to see before you die.

Lake Palace, or Jag Niwas to be correct, was built in 1743 and was the Maharana of Udaipur's summer residence. Like most maharajas when Indira Gandhi decided in 1971 to remove their annual stipend, they were forced to find someway to pay for their extremely extravagent lifestyle. As a result, the palace is now leased out as a luxury hotel. Completely obliterating the 16,000 m^{2 rock on which it stands, the palace is a blancmange of some 80 odd marbled rooms, inacessible unless you are staying there or coming for dinner, with fountains, columns, courtyards, gardens and pool. Regularly voted as the most romantic hotel in India, this is a place where I could easily have stayed a month and never left.}

^{As it was, despite them offering all sorts of trips during the day, I begged them never to send me off the island until the day of my flight.}



Lake Palace



I arrived at the island to be greeted a hostess who walked me along the marble jetty into the palace. From high above, giggling girls threw red rose petals over me which wafted down on the breeze, slowly settling at my feet, their gentle perfume released as I crushed them underfoot. An exquisitely dressed sari clad girl gave me the traditional Indian namaste giving, a red dot on my forehead, before I was taken to my suite.

Now, most fab places you are looking out into a non ending expanse of water. The beauty of the palace was it being on the water, looking back onto the land some distance away......oh, and being India,- the silence. Its amazing how you can overlook the necessity that the soul has for tranquility and solitude. I could feel my batteries recharging with every step that I took deeper into the cool confines of the palace.

The view from my window in Lake Palace was actually that of the City Palace. Now the City Palace actually looks rather impressive- a fusion of Rajasthani and Mughal architectural styles-but in fact it is built on top of a hill and they clad the hill in the same bricks used to build the palace so that it appears more formidable. It was in itself pretty and some photos are below......but incomparable to the beauty of the Lake Palace...both of which incidentally featured in James Bond's Octopussy movie.



city palace



There is no need to do a blow by blow account of my 4 days in the palace. Maharini service throughout- from the workers who scuttled backwards into doors or around corners so you didnt see them when you walked by, to surprising the staff cleaning my room- all 4 of them with a 5th ticking things off a checklist, to the bag of spices and the recipe of a dish I had complimented the staff on which the chef brought to me at the end of a memorable dinner, to the maitre d' who on my second day had the sublime homemade yoghurt with pomegranate seeds already waiting for me at my breakfast table after I had eaten 3 the previous day, to the manager who upon hearing I needed to work installed a printer in my room while I was swimming laps in the pool, to the butler who at 7pm every night drew my water and prepared a swirling arrangement of marigold, rose petals and essential oils complete with candle light for me.



inner courtyard of lake palace



But the highlight, if that was not enough, was having a few hours of pure pampering luxury. Literally the royal yacht had been converted into a mobile spa. Whisked away from the palace by boat, I was deposited at this beautiful teak sailing vessel, flags a fluttering, moored in the lake. Gently swaying on the calm blue waters I was invited to sip a health tonic and take a dip in the outdoor hot tub. Suitably relaxed I then entered the yacht where I was guided into a steam room to relax my muscles further. There is something quite surreal about being in a steam room on a boat- surrounded by water- in more ways than one. There was the gentle dripping sounds inside the boat which would normally have a skipper tearing up planks to find the leak while outside the water slapped against the sides of the barge.

Walking back into the main salon I then lay on a massage table and was treated to a heavenly one hour massage. A bit of hand and feet tidying up afterwards and a lie down on the top deck and a few hours later I reboarded the shuttle to return to the palace.



This is soooo the life! On the spa barge



It was hard not to fall into this lifestyle and think it will never end and it is so far, my Number 1 spot in the 1000 places to see before you die. But, like the video giving a history of the Maharaji that played in my suite, it was, as the Maharini said "Jag Niwas was our summer home, rather than a palace. That was our life. And it is no more. And that's it. Nothing more to add really."



Night view





The heavenly pool




Ceremonial royal barge



 

Place 162 - The Taj Mahal, Agra

Built by Shah Jahan for his queen who died giving birth to their 14th child in 19 years. The closest he ever got to it was looking at it from the nearby Agra Fort where he was imprisoned by one of his children.

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Place 161 - Ayers Rock, Northern Territory, Australia:

It was a rash decision. On a round the world flight I had 4 segments to use up or lose…and so I decided that rather than flying direct from Perth to Sydney, Id go via Ayers Rock for a day, spend the next day diving on the Barrier Reef, shoot down to Sydney and tack on Japan. Thankfully, they were all in relatively the same time zones so there was no jetlag excuse and it was a case on onwards and….outwards.

The flight was spectacular- almost as good as doing a day flight from Sydney to Singapore which flies right over the desert and finally exits in the Kimberley’s before heading over the waters to Asia. The landing as we circled over Ayers Rock before touching down was quite moving. Red dirt as far as the eye could see, scrub bush, and rising in the middle of nowhere, literally, the huge monalith of Ayers Rock.

It was a short matter to organise a hire car- loved that there was an excess of AUS$1200 due to tourists not knowing how to drive on dirt tracks, let alone 4 wheel drives, and causing some significant car damage as they went off-road in uncontrollable driving. And so I set off for a pleasant one hour drive through the bush to see Ayers Rock as well as the nearby Olga’s (the two should really be in the 1000 places to see before you die book as a combined thing to see).

Ayers Rock was named in 1873 after the then Chief Secretary of South Australia, Sir Henry Ayers, but, given the move to acknowledge Aboriginal Heritage, it is perhaps better known, at least in Australia, as Uluru- its Aboriginal name. Climbing the rock however as the 1000 places to see before you die book suggests to do, is actually no longer encouraged. When the Federal Government handed the rights to the Aboriginal people, they agreed to follow their customs which did not allow the climbing of a sacred site. The reason being is that certain areas were used for tribal customs and it was forbidden for the opposite sex to stray into these areas. In an about face however since handing over, they did not ban climbing. Nonetheless I didn’t have the option to decide either way when I arrived as high winds meant they had closed the hiking trail for safety reasons.

Uluru lies almost dead splat in the middle of Australia, rising some 350m and 9000metres in circumference out of the flat, featureless, red desert it is a UNESCO World Heritage site.  Photography taking at the rock is remarkable as it changes colour- from red at sunset, to a brown during the day, and silvery-grey during rain. Dotted around its entrance was a horde of tourists with tripods all taking photos as well as the usual plethora of drive-around-Australia hippies in their Kombie vans.

The whole site was spectacular- with walking trails around the rock, local areas of interest such as cave drawings and water holes signposted and some wonderful Aboriginal education centres. Uluru is the world's largest monolith and revered as a spritual centre of power by the aborigines whose ancestors are believed to have lived there as much as 20,000 years ago. It rises some 1142 feet above the plain and has a circumference of about 5 miles.

After a pleasant day wandering around the rock I checked into what could only be described as an exorbitantly priced hotel. Mind you, nearby was the even more expensive Sails Hotel. I guess when the nearest town is some 450km away (Alice Springs) they have what you can call a captive market.

The next morning I got up early to drive some 25km to The Olgas, or to be correct with its Aboriginal name, Kata Tjuta. I actually found this formation to be the most moving. The rocks are beautiful, but to scramble up and down the range forming the Olga’s was for me quite a spiritual moment.

There is nothing like the Australian bush- ignoring the chatter of tourists- it was the silence that was so peaceful. The earthy waft from the sand, the scratch of the bushes against your clothing as you walked, the call of the kookaburras in the trees, the faint marks of lizards criss-crossing over tiny trails barely noticeable in the sand, the sun beating down on you, and the moving silence that only comes from being in the middle of the bush….in the middle of the desert.

From out of nowhere, I suddenly thought of a poem I heard in my teens, called My Country by Dorothea McKeller.

MY COUNTRY

The love of field and coppice,
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies -
I know but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror –
The wide brown land for me!

The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops,
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die –
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze.

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land –
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand –
Though earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

Definitely Uluru should be in the 1000 places to see before you die book and it should be combined with Kata Tjuta.