All Change!

This is the final post here at Aerohaveno, the travel blog I've written since this very month back in 2008.

But don't fret! The moment has been prepared for. I'll now be writing regular travel-related posts at my own Patreon site, which you can find at patreon.com/timrichards.

I'm feeling very enthusiastic about my new platform. I'm making a point of writing fresh new material for each Patreon post, trying always to imbue it with the energy and excitement that characterises travel.

Each week on my Patreon site, I'll be posting three types of post:

1. Express. This will be my main post each week, dealing with a range of travel topics.
2. Dateline. This will be a timely post about the place I'm currently in, whether that's Melbourne or overseas.
3. Image of the Week. This will be an eye-catching photo I've taken at some point of my travels, with a mini-essay in which I comment on its significance.

So that's it! Thank you and good night from Aerohaveno, while the red carpet is rolled out for you at Tim Richards: Travel Writer. Please visit me now at patreon.com/timrichards, and take a look around. I hope you'll like what you see, and sign up. I look forward to seeing you there.

Tim Richards
Melbourne
March 2020

A Travel Reading Holiday in Lorne (Part 2)

Every couple of years I take a short summer holiday in the seaside town of Lorne (see above photo), and do a lot of travel reading.

Last post I talked about two travel books I read there in late 2017, each regarding Africa. Now here are two more reviews of travel books among my holiday reading, set in South America and Europe...

1. Turn Right at Machu Picchu; by Mark Adams

The basic premise here is that Adams, an adventure travel magazine editor who rarely gets to do anything adventurous, decides to conquer the Inca Trail. in fact he goes much further than this, seeking to replicate the exploratory quests of Hiram Bingham a century ago.

It was Bingham who visited Machu Picchu and popularised its existence in the West, but he also explored several other significant sites over the following years. In the course of the book Adams visits these while detailing Bingham's expeditions, providing us with parallels between then and now.

It's an entertaining set-up, particularly as the writer is no hardened hiker; it makes it easy for us to identify with him when he struggles with the journey's demands.

The most entertaining element by far is the Aussie guide enlisted by Adams, an eccentric hardened bushman who seems like a real-life version of Crocodile Dundee; just as Bingham was said to have inspired Indiana Jones.

This was a thoroughly good read about a destination I'm not familiar with.

[see this book at Amazon]

2. Border; by Kapka Kassabova

Finally I struck a book with a style of travel more in tune with my own.

Kassabova is a Brit who was born in Bulgaria during the Cold War. In this book, she flits along and over the borders between three Balkan countries: Bulgaria, Greece and Turkey. Along the way she explores the history and folklore of the region, as much at home with relating ancient myths as detailing 20th century events.

This work had much less of the driving linear narrative that was present in the other travel books I read on my Lorne getaway. Instead, the author moves here and there, back and forth, sometimes staying in one village for an extended time.

As a result the book reads like a series of vignettes based on specific villages or border sub-regions, with local people and landscapes at their heart.

It's not as much a page-turner as a traditional travelogue, but Border does lend a lot of insight into the far southeast corner of Europe and the cultural and historical forces which have shaped it.

[see this book at Amazon]

That was my Lorne reading list in 2017. What should I read on my next tech-free travel reading holiday? Feel free to make suggestions in the comments section below.

A Travel Reading Holiday in Lorne (Part 1)

Every couple of years I take a short summer holiday in Lorne, on the Great Ocean road here in Victoria, Australia.

It's always a few days about two weeks before Christmas, as that's a period before the festive season rush; when room rates drop while everything in the seaside town opens.

As I've done before, I made it a tech-free break, putting the phone in a drawer once I'd checked into the hotel. The objective - in addition to swimming and walking - was to read as many books as possible.

So here are some reviews of my travel-themed reading, starting with two books about Africa...

1. Walking the Nile; by Levison Wood

There's something slightly irritating about this adventurer who decides to walk the entire length of the Nile, from Rwanda to the Mediterranean. He exudes a subtle air of outdated British imperial folly, perhaps, though he is good mates with the Africans he employs as guides along the way.

There's something meaningless about the goal, though it does lead him through an interesting variety of landscapes and nations, and into difficult encounters which make for dramatic reading. One specific episode within this true story is shocking in its outcome, and nearly brought the walk to an end.

In fact the Nile is never fully walked, as Lervison is forced to skip a section of South Sudan after civil conflict comes too close for comfort. And Egypt, the final country, is something of a damp squib as his progress there is so closely monitored and regulated by the authorities.

Having said that, it is an entertaining journey which reveals a lot about the cultures encountered and landscapes crossed.

[see this book at Amazon]

2. The Last Train to Zona Verde; by Paul Theroux

Some people aren't fans of Paul Theroux's travel writing, as they detect a cold misanthropy in his on-the-road observations. I'm not sure about that. It seems to me he is fact deeply invested in the places and people he encounters, but has a naturally detached way of relating them.

He also has a knack of getting people to speak to him, which seems the opposite of misanthropic.

In this follow-up journey to an earlier book about an overland trip from Cairo to Cape Town, he travels from Cape Town to Angola and talks to plenty of people along the way: shanty dwellers in South Africa, elephant handlers in Botswana, San tribesmen in Namibia, random strangers in Angola.

What Theroux doesn't do is suffer fools gladly, and if he takes a dislike to someone or something you know it. He's not a fan of Western culture in its incarnations as mass tourism or rapacious capitalism, and he's particularly scornful of international aid agencies.

He doesn't mind giving African people a serve over their societal shortcomings either, which can make for uncomfortable reading; though he's just as scathing of Europeans who fail his measures of decency.

The journey itself is fascinating, especially since Angola in particular is little visited by Westerners; partly because of its dependence on its misused (in Theroux's eyes) oil wealth. Indeed, it's in Angola that the trip - originally aimed at reaching the Mediterranean - falls apart and is abandoned.

Theroux, as if feeling awkward about not completing his stated quest, spends far too much time justifying himself at the end of the book. It didn't bother me; the journey as it was was intriguing, and I would've myself dropped out after the first difficult Angolan day.

[see this book at Amazon]

Next: Two more reviews - one of a hapless hike through the Andes, the other about the mysteries of a three-nation border region...

One Trip, Multiple Stories: A Travel Writer's Journey to Europe & the USA

For the journey detailed below, I paid for my airfares and received on-the-ground assistance from local tourism authorities and hotels. Full disclosures are included with each linked article and blog post.

This is my 400th post at Aerohaveno. Eight years ago I started this blog, somewhat reluctantly, then realised it was a valuable additional outlet for my travel writing.

I've managed to keep the output consistent over that time, averaging precisely 50 posts per year. Often I post about topics which I haven't been able to cover in my work for newspapers, magazines and websites.

For the 400th post, I'd like to do something a little different - draw back the curtain on the mechanics of my trade.

Focusing on a four-week travel writing research trip I undertook in 2014 to Europe and New York, I'll outline how each activity led to a specific piece of writing - with a link to the published article or blog post.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin.

Thursday 21 August 2014

Activity: Fly Qantas flight QF9 from Melbourne to London Heathrow.
Resulting story: A 'Flight Test' review of Qantas' Premium Economy class for the Traveller section of Fairfax Media's Saturday newspapers in Australia.

Activity: Check out the Qantas First Class lounge at Melbourne Airport before the flight.
Resulting story: A review of the lounge, here at Aerohaveno.

Saturday 23 August 2014



Activity: Visit London's Cartoon Museum for an exhibition of World War One cartoons.
Resulting story: A 'Postcard from London' piece for the Spectrum (culture) section of The Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Sunday 24 August 2014



Activity: Visit Abbey Road, West Ham, to investigate local attractions.
Resulting story: An article on the "wrong" Abbey Road, for the Traveller section of the Sun-Herald newspaper in Sydney.

Activity: Take the Gentleman's Afternoon Tea at The Athenaeum Hotel, Mayfair.
Resulting story: A blog post about the experience, here at Aerohaveno.

Monday 25 August 2014

Activity: Visit Hampton Court Palace, to check out the newly reopened chocolate kitchens.
Resulting story: An article on the experience, for the Traveller section of the Sun-Herald newspaper in Sydney.

Tuesday 26 August 2014



Activity: Eat at restaurants in Cardiff, Wales, which specialise in dishes using locally-sourced ingredients.
Resulting story: An article on Cardiff dining for the Traveller section of Fairfax Media's Saturday newspapers in Australia.

Activity: Visit the Doctor Who Experience, Cardiff Bay.
Resulting story: A review of the exhibition, here at Aerohaveno.

Wednesday 27 August 2014



Activity: Explore Cardiff's Victorian-era shopping arcades.
Resulting story: An article on the various arcades and their charms, for the travel section of the Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Thursday 28 August 2014

Activity: Check into the Ibis London Blackfriars.
Resulting story: A review of the hotel, here at Aerohaveno.

Friday 29 August 2014



Activity: Join the Eating London Tour from Spitalfields Market, London.
Resulting story: An article on the tour's food highlights, for the travel section of the Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Saturday 30 August 2014



Activity: Investigate several unusual aspects of the London Underground.
Resulting story: An article on secrets of the London Underground, for the Traveller.com.au website.

Sunday 31 August 2014

Activity: Catch Eurostar train from London to Brussels, Belgium (then later on to Cologne and Berlin).
Resulting story: An article on the rail journey and the cities visited, for Get Up and Go magazine.



Activity: Visit the Mini-Europe theme park in Brussels.
Resulting story: An article on the park's quirky appeal, for the travel section of the Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Monday 1 September 2014



Activity: Visit the Waterloo battlefield outside Brussels.
Resulting story: An article on the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo, for the Lonely Planet website.

Activity: Explore central Brussels.
Resulting story: An account of my experiences of the city, here at Aerohaveno.

Wednesday 3 September 2014

 

Activity: Visit Museum Ludwig in Cologne, Germany.
Resulting story: An article on the museum's impressive modernist collection, for the travel section of the Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Activity: Soak at the Neptunbad baths, Cologne.
Resulting story: A review of these historic baths, here at Aerohaveno.

Thursday 4 September 2014

Activity: Explore central Berlin, Germany.
Resulting story: An account of my wander from the Hauptbahnhof to the Hotel Adlon, here at Aerohaveno.

Friday 5 September 2014

 

Activity: Join a tour of Berlin street art, led by an artist.
Resulting story: A 'Postcard from Berlin' piece for the Spectrum (culture) section of The Age newspaper in Melbourne.
Second resulting story: A blog post about Berlin's street art, here at Aerohaveno.

Saturday 6 September 2014

 

Activity: Explore the remnants of the Berlin Wall along Bernauer Strasse.
Resulting story: An article on the Berlin Wall Memorial, for the travel section of the Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.
Second resulting story: A blog post for the 25th anniversary of the Berlin Wall's fall, here at Aerohaveno.

Monday 8 September 2014

Activity: Fly British Airways flight BA173 from London Heathrow to New York JFK.
Resulting story: A 'Flight Test' review of British Airways' Premium Economy class for the Traveller section of Fairfax Media's Saturday newspapers in Australia.

Activity: Check into the Z Hotel, Queens.
Resulting story: A post about the rooftop bar's amazing view of Manhattan, here at Aerohaveno.

Tuesday 9 September 2014



Activity: Visit Little Collins, an Australian-run cafe in Manhattan (and four others in the following days).
Resulting story: An article on Aussie cafes of Manhattan, for the travel section of the Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Wednesday 10 September 2014

 

Activity: Visit the newly-opened Morbid Anatomy Museum, Brooklyn.
Resulting story: A 'Postcard from New York' piece for the Spectrum (culture) section of The Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Activity: Take a cruise to Ellis Island.
Resulting story: A review of the island's immigration museum, here at Aerohaveno.
 
Thursday 11 September 2014

Activity: Explore the Bushwick neighbourhood of Brooklyn.
Resulting story: An article on the attractions of the area [accepted but as yet unpublished].

Friday 12 September 2014



Activity: Visit the newly-reopened Queens Museum in Flushing Meadows.
Resulting story: An account of the museum and its history, for the Traveller section of the Sun-Herald newspaper in Sydney.

Saturday 13 September 2014



Activity: Join the Greenwich Village Literary Pub Crawl, a regular literary tour.
Resulting story: An article on the tour, for the travel section of the Sunday Age newspaper in Melbourne.

Monday 15 September 2014

Activity: Fly Qantas from New York JFK to Los Angeles (then home to Australia).
Resulting story: A review of Qantas' Premium Economy class, here at Aerohaveno.

I also wrote two general blog posts about a selection of quirky New York elements:

• Curios of New York.
• Quirky Signs of New York.

And that's that! Courtesy of the International Dateline, we arrived home on Wednesday 17 September 2014 - just short of four weeks since we'd left.

Writing output, financial income

By my count, the trip produced a total of 20 paid articles for outside publications, and 14 posts on this blog.

If you're interested in the business side of such things, I calculate the paid articles (less the one unpublished piece) earned a total of $9727.30 before adding GST (sales tax) for both words and photos.

About another $400 should come in from the final article, taking it over the $10,000 mark. And there was additional research undertaken on the trip which I may yet write about, as well as revisiting subjects in a fresh way.

The blog posts don't earn any direct income, but drive traffic to Aerohaveno and thus contribute to the occasional small payments I receive from the Google Ads running on my blog.

Expenses

Of course I had sizeable expenses on such a journey, especially in New York where I received less assistance re hotel accommodation.

Including airfares, I estimate my total expenses on this trip at $6450, which leaves a profit of about $3677 (plus possible income from future stories derived from the same research material.)

Some trips have a greater return on outlay, others less so. This one had higher expenses than I usually incur, mostly because I paid for my own flights; but was a great experience and turned up lots of interesting travel articles.

It's not easy to make a living from travel writing; but if you can wring a story a day from a trip, you're off to a decent start.

Having typed all that, I feel exhausted! I'll be giving Aerohaveno a rest over the holiday season, and will be back with you in early January. Have a great New Year!

Farewell Petra: Business Associate, Friend, Cat

Petra, 2003-2015

This is the blog post I knew I'd have to write one day, but dreaded writing.

Last Saturday our cat Petra passed away.

She'd been with us for twelve years, nearly a quarter of my life.

We adopted her from the Lort Smith Animal Hospital in North Melbourne the same week I became a freelance writer, in January 2004.

As a result, I thought of her as my "business associate"; a kind of silent (well, not so silent) partner who did her thing while I was doing mine.

She was also a friend. Our interaction was limited by communication barriers, and by the very different ways our brains worked; but we communicated just the same.

At my desk, in November 2011.

I didn't need to be Doctor Dolittle to figure out what she wanted most of the time (generally summarised as "attention").

Interrupting my packing in April 2015.

For her part she reminded me that life wasn't all about me, and that I should get up from the desk occasionally and do things other than write.

It was partly this mysterious interaction that made me decide to become vegetarian this year; she made me see animals as emotional beings with whom we can connect.

I learned a lot from Petra, and I think she had a good, fulfilling life and knew that she was loved.

She's gone, and she's left a hole in our lives. In my working life, too. The home office seems so still this week.

She's gone, and I miss her so much.

Mind the Gap: The Novel & the Art of Travel

Two days ago, my debut novel was published by Harper Collins. Entitled Mind the Gap, it's a fast-paced adventure novel spanning continents and worlds.

To give you some of its location-hopping flavour, here's the official blurb:

Darius Ibrahim is not having a good week.

He's been threatened by a knife-wielding maniac on a London train, interrogated by a mysterious warrior woman beneath the city's streets, pursued by a military death squad in Melbourne, had his new girlfriend kidnapped and held hostage in Prague, and been captured and taken to another world.

And it's barely been three days since his life started to fall to pieces.

On top of all this, he's developed a bizarre ability that allows him to teleport in quite unusual circumstances - an ability that several deadly enemies will do anything to gain control of.

In a desperate struggle involving alternate worlds, Egyptian mythology, ancient prophecy, malevolent felines, underground railway stations and the power of dreams, can Darius long survive the arrival of his newfound power?

It's great to see it finally out there under the umbrella of a major publisher.

An interesting fact is that I started writing this book over ten years ago, during my final, unloved, salaried office job. To keep myself sane, I wrote 500 words a day at work, and emailed them home to myself.

By the time I visited Wellington, New Zealand for a holiday late in 2003, I'd written 15,000 words or so. In NZ I wrote a good chunk more, and it became inevitable that I'd actually finish writing the whole damn thing.

There's a lot of travel in the book, and it inevitably reflects the places I'd travelled to by the time I started writing it.

So Darius, the hero, starts off in London. In fact he's riding the London Underground the first time we see him, and the Tube and other underground railways play a major role in the plot.

The Tube fascinated me from the first time I rode on it. Dating right back to the 1860s, it seems to be a vast creature with a personality all its own - and a subtle air of mystery in its subterranean tiled passages.

He then pitches up unexpectedly (read the book to find out how) in Melbourne, Australia. Melbourne is my adopted home town of 16 years now, a city I love passionately.

It was an absolute delight to include some of its attractions - its trams, its alleyway bars, its majestic State Library - as part of Darius' only relatively quiet interlude.

He next appears in Prague. In 2014 that's a city I haven't visited for 21 years; but back in 2003 it was relatively fresh in my memory and I had fun placing spy-like intrigue, a kidnapping and a dramatic chase scene among its beautiful cityscape of elegant spires.

Our hero is then snatched away to Terra, a parallel version of Earth in which magic is an everyday part of life. The city he ends up in, Kahe-Ra, is a parallel version of Cairo, in which I lived for two years in the 1990s while teaching English.

The parallel name borrows from the Arabic name for the Egyptian capital, El Qahirah, and hints at the name of the ancient sun god Ra. Egyptian gods feature significantly in the plot, as it turns out.

Terra's Bubastis takes the same name as its Earthly counterpart (now an excavation site), which was a centre of worship for the cat-headed god Bast. She is also key to the plot, much more so than Ra.

Rome features later in the book, as does its Terra parallel Eternus (a play on the "Eternal City" nickname). I'd visited there only two years before commencing the book, so memories of its piazzas and ancient monuments were fresh in my mind. As was a cat refuge set among old broken pillars, something I couldn't resist adding to the story.

It was a lot of fun slotting my fictional characters into those oh-so-real streets I'd visited in the years before, and a chance to relay the cities' distinctive charms to the reader.

I only became a travel writer in 2004, so there are a great many new places I could include in a sequel. For plot purposes they should ideally be cities with underground railway systems, so that could take in the likes of Warsaw, Berlin, Shanghai, Montreal, New York, Los Angeles and Sydney.

Sydney's defiantly retro Museum station keeps asking to be placed in the sequel each time I pass through it (as I did a few hours ago on the way to Sydney Airport).

But so does Kings Cross station. Yes, Kings Cross has potential. Time will tell.

Mind the Gap is available from your favourite ebook retailer for a mere $2.99. You can find more information and download links by clicking here.

Floating Down the Yangtze

It's October 2008. I’m sitting on the observation deck of the Victoria Queen cruise boat, trying to write some notes about our progress down the Yangtze River. However, I’m getting nowhere – the scenery is too compelling to concentrate on anything else.

The riverbanks present a constantly changing blend of nature and civilisation: a succession of green hills, one crowned with what looks like a lighthouse-shaped temple. 

Occasionally we pass under vast bridges, replacing structures that were too low for the water level raised by the massive Three Gorges Dam up ahead. One city we pass has several new apartment blocks towering above the new waterline. So far, everything in China has appeared as I’d expected it to: big, big, big.

But all stories, in the end, are about people, and that’s something that China has no shortage of. Dragging myself away from the scenery back into the comforts of the cruise boat's bar one deck below, I talk to bar supervisor Steven Xu about what it’s like to work on this floating hotel. 

Steven is symbolic of the new China that’s economically open to the West; describing himself as a “country bumpkin”, he’s the first of his family to leave the farm for a job in hospitality.

“My parents are farmers outside Chongqing,” he explains. “They grow corn, sweet potatoes and rice. But it’s not the big farm you imagine, there are not more than ten pigs.

“They feel proud of me, because I’m the only family member with a job related to English,” he continues. And Xu is clearly one of those lucky people who have an ear for new languages. “I only started learning English two and a half years ago in vocational school. Since I got a job on the Yangtze, I’ve practised a lot and improved a lot.”

In some ways, this cruise could be happening anywhere in the world – it follows the international standard profile of cruises, with onboard lectures, excursions ashore, a captain’s banquet and a cheesy cabaret night with acts from the crew and passengers. 

The cabins are compact but neat and functional, with the unexpected bonus of bathtubs, and private balconies from which to survey the passing scenery.

On the other hand, the cruise boat is a fascinating fusion of China and the west, one of the many intersection points between the two cultures as more tourists head to China. There are also Chinese passengers aboard, part of a new middle class exercising its right to sightsee in comfort.

Another pleasing result of this cultural crossover is the diverse stock behind the bar.

“Chinese people like the strong liquor we call spirit, distilled from wheat, sorghum, rice and all kinds of stuff,” says Xu. “It can be 52% alcohol, even 60% alcohol. We make a cocktail called Yangtze Rapids, with this spirit and curacao, mixed with orange juice. It’s good.”

Of course, I didn’t travel to China to drink cocktails (though as they’re cheaper than the boat’s espresso coffee, I feel a certain licence to do so).

On the second day we leave the boat to visit the Ghost City of Fengdu. It’s called a ‘ghost city’ because traditionally the Chinese believed that this place was where their ghosts would pause for judgement on the way to their final reward. 

Built over centuries, it’s an attractive complex of temples, gates, bridges and other structures tapering over and around a high green peak.

At the summit we pass monstrous statues depicting deadly sins, to reach the place where the lord of the underworld resides. This is a truly intimidating figure in robes within a sanctuary illuminated by candlelight. 

Around the corner is something more macabre, a set of statuary showing what happens to various evil-doers in the afterlife. The corrupt government official’s fate is particularly gruesome – he’s being sawn in half, longways, through a particularly sensitive anatomical region.

Returning, I decide the boat is really quite splendid. There’s something delightful about ending a sweaty hillside slog by stepping back onto waterborne luxury, welcomed by red-coated staff who hand you a warm towel and a cup of hot ginger tea.

The next day we start to pass through the famous Three Gorges, and the river appears much cleaner than it was at Chongqing. This area seems much less populated, and nature takes centre stage as the rocky riverbanks rise dramatically, often at steep angles.

Then we step aboard a river ferry which takes us up an arm of the gorges, passing increasingly spectacular cliff faces and the occasional hanging coffin in high-up caves, legacies of the ancient Ba culture.

Eventually we end up at a floating platform from which we board sampans along a narrow lesser gorge. The boats are piloted by men in straw hats and straw cloaks. I’m struck by how cheerful the locals are, helping haul us in and out of boats, and clearly enjoying their jobs running tourists up and down the gorges. 

The final highlight of the journey is the massive Three Gorges Dam, a controversial structure which required the non-stop laying of concrete for almost a decade, and which displaced over a million people along the Yangtze’s banks as the water rose to its final level. 

Controversy aside, it’s an astounding thing to see, as are the locks the boat passes through during the night, dropping us down a hundred metres to the water level beyond the dam.

After breakfast on the last morning of the cruise, we board a bus to take us to the visitor centre above the dam. Our guide is Kevin, who delivers a spirited patter along the lines of being “a good dam guide or a damn good guide”. 

I tell him about an Australian prime minister named Kevin who speaks Mandarin, and he responds “But mine is better - you can't beat a native speaker”.

The dam is truly impressive, and yet another reminder of how China does things on a big scale. But dams and gorges aside, the highlight of the cruise has been the Chinese people, unfailingly good-natured as we’ve encountered them in markets, sampans and on board.

Steven Xu is keen for this cross-cultural contact to continue. “I hope our passengers remember the people they meet here, feel happy and come back again,” he says. “The thing I like most is the people around me – both my colleagues, and our passengers from all over the world. As long as tourism here is booming, I’ll keep doing this job.”

This post was sponsored by Cruise About NZ. Check out its site for cruise holidays.

Barcelona by Mouth

Earlier this week, I ate at Movida Acqui for the first time.

This Spanish restaurant in Melbourne, Australia is the latest outpost of chef Frank Camorra's popular series of Movida restaurants, the first of which is in an alleyway next to the wildly decorated Forum Theatre.

Movida Acqui has a more formal setting, being in the city's legal quarter; in fact, there's a fine view of the Supreme Court dome from its first floor premises.

I was soon enjoying some great tapas in the company of a bunch of travel-related people. A highlight was Movida's signature anchovy on a crouton, topped with smoked tomato sorbet. Other memorable items included the calamari sandwich, and artichoke heart filled with pigeon.

As good as the food was, we were there for a purpose - the launch of Camorra's new book (co-authored with Richard Cornish), Movida's Guide to Barcelona.

As the title suggests, it's a guide to the cuisine of the Spanish city which Camorra was born in. Leafing through its pages, what struck me at first was the attractiveness of the book itself. Though a paperback, it's bound in a sturdy bright orange cover with gatefolds at each end, one of which unfolds to reveal a multicoloured map of the city and its districts.

Given that it's filled with beautiful photos and longer articles, along with restaurant reviews, hotel reviews and practical information, Movida's Guide to Barcelona would function equally well as a coffee table book or a guide on the road. In fact, given the thicker-than-a-paperback heft and quality presentation, it's likely been produced with just that dual purpose in mind.

The longer pieces cover interesting topics which are a good read in themselves: 'A Brief History of Catalonia Through Food', for example, or a piece on the architectural highlights of Barcelona. 'The Essential Dishes of Barcelona' or 'Wine in Barcelona' would be handy reading in any city where Catalan cuisine is available.

The shorter reviews are sorted by district: El Raval, Poble-Sec, Poblenou, etc. Within these sections are short and snappy reviews of both restaurants (titled in blue text) and food shops (in red), with practical info such as opening hours and price ranges. There are some gems in here which are fun just to read about.

To give you an example, in the first few pages under El Raval I read about organic bakery Barcelona Reykjavik, the fading modernist Bar Muy Buenas, the century-old Ca L'Estevet, and the traditional eatery El Quim De La Boqueria in the lively La Boqueria Market ("Nobody raises an eyelid when a market porter sits down to a plate of tripe with a beer at 9am - he has been up for hours").

Movida's Guide to Barcelona is an entertaining read regardless of whether you're intending to travel to Barcelona. Mind you, if you are - and lucky you - this guide would be a great companion on a journey through its foodie possibilities. Camorra's final line in the book's introduction - "You have our permission to be swept away" - seems the perfect cue to plan a trip to Catalonia. 

Movida's Guide to Barcelona is published by Melbourne University Press, $32.99.

Geelong: Seaplanes & Wooden Horses

On Wednesday afternoon, I went up in a seaplane for the first time, circling high over Corio Bay and the city of Geelong. It was a clear day, and I could match the landmarks below with the map I’d become familiar with by walking the streets.

I love doing that, there’s something seemingly miraculous about a printed piece of paper coming suddenly to life. Intellectually, I know it must depict the streetscape accurately, but to see its 3D detail from the air is emotionally satisfying.

And seeing a city from the air tells you something about its nature. As I looked down from on high, Geelong’s distinct street grid spoke of its Victorian-era founders and their need to impose order on an alien land, and the low-rise spread of the suburbs said a lot about how Australians have preferred to spread out rather than build up.

A plenitude of sporting grounds in prominent locations pointed out sport’s prominent role. Kardinia Park, Geelong’s Australian Rules Football venue, drew the eye as an island of verdant green in an otherwise dry environment, and the streets next to the nearby Richmond Oval seemed subordinate to the sporting field, bending around its shape.

Half an hour later, I was seated on a wooden horse, oscillating up and down as I travelled in circles all by myself on a restored carousel on the Geelong waterfront. I’d taken the place of a group of seniors who'd been experiencing a second childhood on the painted ponies as I’d arrived. As I went round, and up and down, it occurred to me: I have a weird job.

It’s human nature, unfortunately, that whenever you achieve a long sought-after goal, you immediately begin to regard it as mundane, and overlook what drew you to it in the first place.

Travel writing is such a competitive field that it’s essential to be as efficient as possible: making lightning visits to places while writing notes and taking photos, joining media trips with packed itineraries, and calculating how to get as many stories as possible out of the material to hand. There’s a fair bit of stress in making ends meet, and a lot of admin to deal with (BAS statements anyone?). So, unfortunately, there’s a tendency to be focused on the practicalities of work.

However, every so often I’m lifted out of my work mentality and reminded how marvellous it is to be out of my office, travelling and being stimulated by the new.

The first place I visited in Geelong was its Botanic Gardens. All notable Victorian cities have these, and they’re usually attractive; but I wasn’t expecting anything special.

My mistake. The Geelong gardens are composed of three sections constructed in three different centuries. The newest, at the entrance to the gardens, is a fascinating oval-shaped garden filled with plants that use very little water. It was constructed as a response to climate change and our sharpened awareness of drought, and a renewed interest in indigenous plants and the natural balance of the environment we find ourselves in (rather than that of the ‘Old Country’).

It’s a fascinating contrast to the earlier European-style gardens at the back. Though it’s low on grass, it’s a beautiful space and very calming, its greenery contrasting neatly with the dry gravel surface in its centre. There’s something meditative about the placement of plants and benches among its curves. A guide told me that they’d planned for the new garden to use 10% of the Botanic Gardens’ water supply, but in fact it’s turned out to only need a fraction of that.

And that’s the other thing I like about my job: regularly talking to people who care deeply about their work. Too few have that enthusiasm or are bold enough to show it, so I always appreciate people sharing it with me. In talking to a gallery owner about his customers and their collecting enthusiasms, or a guide in a top hat who enjoys leading schoolkids around the city’s streets and explaining its history, or a pilot who gets to share his love of flying, I’ve been tapping into the passion behind a city like Geelong.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Geelong Otway Tourism.

Getting Away From It All

Last year Narrelle and I pioneered a new travel concept (at least, for us): the 'technology detox' vacation.

The problem is, as a travel writer, that most travel I do becomes a busman's holiday.

Rather than relaxing, I research, contact tourism officials, set up a tightly-packed itinerary and run around seeing sites, interviewing people and writing notes.

I know, I shouldn't complain. It is great getting too see those places and meet those people, and good to be paid for writing about them. But at times of the year when I'm really burned out by work, it's anything but relaxing.

So in February 2008, we headed to Apollo Bay, a holiday town on Victoria's Great Ocean Road.

An unexpected bonus payment had come in, so we could afford to stay for ten days in a spacious modern apartment on the top floor of a three-level bock, with a view over the bay and the Southern Ocean beyond.

As for the techno detox, it was actually quite simple. I left behind my laptop and Palm, and had my mobile phone in my pocket for emergencies, but turned off. Once we arrived there, I also took my watch off and placed it in a drawer.

It was good being out of touch in a way we rarely are nowadays. I even made a point of ignoring the Internet access in the building's reception area. Being able to focus only on where we were, and the present rather than the future, was enormously refreshing.

To my surprise, however, it was the discarding of the watch that had the most impact. There was no real need to tell the time, as we had no appointments and nowhere in particular to be. There was always somewhere open to eat at, and groceries in the apartment, so there was no need to worry about opening hours. The beach, of course, was available 24/7.

It was remarkable the difference it made. We got up when we felt like it, ate when we were hungry, lay around reading or went out to the town or beach, slept when we felt tired. There was something extraordinarily liberating about being freed from the relentless drive of the freelancer to write more, achieve more, earn more, to the mental backdrop of the ticking clock.

In a world wherein the Blackberry is often referred to ruefully as the 'Crackberry', and in which it's still impossible to persuade everyone that they don't need to be connected to the world during a 90 minute cinema screening, shutting ourselves off from communication and the tyranny of the clock was immensely powerful.

Even if it was for just ten days.

The Journey of a Thousand Words

On Saturday I taught my last travel writing course at Holmesglen TAFE in Melbourne's southeastern suburbs. It's been an interesting course to both devise and teach, and I've learned plenty from it myself.

Having to think about how travel writing works - and how to convey that to would-be travel writers - has reminded me how different travel writing is from other forms of journalism.

How so? For one thing, travel articles are often written in first person: "I" rather than "he, she, they". They're also frequently written in the present tense.

The advantage of both these approaches, especially when combined, is an immediacy to the text. The reader is placed in the writer's shoes, experiencing his/her viewpoint as if the events are happening how.

The first person approach also allows the writer to share specific events that befell him/her while travelling: the conversation with a local on the ferry, the taste of a fine meal, the unsteady first attempts at the local language.

Of course, all this counts for naught if the writer can't convey these experiences in an interesting, lively, engaging way. If, to quote a former travel editor I once knew, the article reads like a glossy travel brochure or an account of "What I did on my summer holiday", then it's just not right.

Ever wondered whether you could take a stab at the fine old art of travel writing? Here's a few short tips to start you on your way:

1. Observe. You can't relay your experiences to an audience if you don't pay attention to them yourself. Look at the new people, places, buildings, landscapes that you encounter, and be curious about them all. Why is this food popular? Why do people wear those clothes? Why is that style of architecture so common?
2. Note. Every day without fail, write a travel journal entry for the events of that day. Put in as much detail as possible, down to comments you overheard or quirky interactions that happened on the street. You'll be amazed how well these preserve your details of the trip, and how much life they can add to travel articles (or even postcards or blogs!).
3. Photograph. A picture reputedly tells a thousand words. That may or my not be true, but it will certainly prompt a flood of memories for years to come. Images also improve the chances of selling a travel article, as presenting an editor with matching words and pictures makes his/her life easier. And the pix earn extra dollars.
4. Write to a Structure. Whether you're attempting to create a travel article, a blog entry, a postcard scrawl or one of those annoying travelogue emails to bother your colleagues back home, give some thought to structuring the piece. Don't just witter on about every event from sunrise to sunset - write about what was most memorable, most emblematic, about the place. You don't even have to start at the beginning; maybe the most interesting thing happened halfway through your stay.

However you write about your travels, you'll find that it's a great way of fixing the memories of your trip in your mind, and bringing to the forefront what was most memorable about it. Remember, the journey of a thousand words begins with a single keystroke...

China: People of the Middle Kingdom

I've spent the past week in China with colleagues from the Australian Society of Travel Writers. After we held our Annual General Meeting in Shanghai, we flew out west to Chongqing to join a cruise down the Yangtze River to Yichang. We're now in Wuhan, waiting to fly home.

It's been an amazing week full of large, spectacular sights, from the massive modern architecture of Shanghai to the majestic gorges of the Yangtze. But travel stories - like all stories - are about people, and I've been struck by the friendliness and relaxed practicality of the Chinese we've met on the way.

A few snapshots:

• The stallholder on Shanghai's Old Street, who cheerfully haggled with me over the price of a number of items I wished to buy. Her running commentary on her fairly absurd stock (waving Mao watches included) was high spirited and not too pushy. We left the best of friends after settling on a price by alternately typing our bids on a calculator.
• The musician playing a string instrument at a teahouse above the markets. He and his partner played a number of traditional tunes in classic robes - then launched into an instrumental version of Click Go the Shears. I looked up sharply from my jasmine tea, and we shared a knowing glance.
• Steven Xu, the bar manager on the Victoria Queen cruise boat, who talked to me about his experiences serving foreigners floating up and down the Yangtze. As his parents and grandparents are small-time farmers with a small income, he says they're proud of his work on the river. He keeps in touch with pen pals from among his former passengers, and hopes to travel to Australia one day, to visit one.
• The boatmen who operate the sampans along a narrow side gorge we visited one day. Ceaselessly cheerful, they helped visitors in and out of the boats and piloted them through rainy weather through an impressive stretch of rocky cliffs. In straw hats and lifejackets, they looked like they were really enjoying their jobs. I asked Steven what they'd be doing if there were no tourism, and he said they'd probably have departed for industrial work in some distant city. Much more rewarding to be out on the water.
• Our guide to the Three Gorges Dam, Kevin, who had a cheerful patter worked out about being "a good dam guide or a damn good guide". I told him our prime minister, Kevin Rudd, also spoke Mandarin, so there was more than one Mandarin-speaking Kevin. To which he said "But mine is better - you can't beat a native speaker".
  
• The guys on the coal scow that nestled next to our boat on the journey through the multiple locks that bypass the Three Gorges Dam. I stepped out on my cabin's balcony and saw them below, standing on the front of the scow, helping direct the pilot's placement. They looked up, I waved, and they returned the wave while simultaneously shouting "Hello!".

It can't always be easy living in such an overpopulated country, but the Chinese do it with good humour and an unexpected grace.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Shanghai Municipal Tourism and Helen Wong’s Tours.

Do Travel Writers Go to Heck?

I'm in the middle of reading Thomas Kohnstamm's controversial book, Do Travel Writers Go to Hell?.

Kohnstamm, you may remember, was the former Lonely Planet author who 'fessed up a few months ago to accepting freebies on assignment against LP rules, and partaking of a lot of sex and drugs while updating a chapter on northeastern Brazil.

As I'm currently spending most of my workdays updating the Poland chapters of LP's Eastern Europe and Europe on a Shoestring, I was keen to read Kohnstamm's account. Halfway through, my main impression is of a somewhat wooden writing style.

The stories of sex and drugs lack credibility, as well: they seem at least tacky, at most wildly exaggerated. And the sense of veritas also isn't helped by the use of present tense - the story is unbelievable enough without making it seem even more like fiction.

The most interesting part for me is Kohnstamm's descriptions of his Lonely Planet work, and the mental and physical exhaustion that sets in after a few weeks on the road.

Maybe it's the difference between Brazil and Poland, but I don't seem to stumble across plentiful offers of sex and drugs while in Central Europe. Complimentary lard dips before a meal, yes; quickies in the back of a restauracja, no. But I do agree that being on a research assignment for a guidebook publisher is exhausting work; and that no-one, not even the LP staff back in the office, realises how exhausting.

So I thought it might be interesting to outline my average Lonely Planet research day in Poland:

• 6am: Alarm on PDA wakes me up. Get ready for the day, organise notes, clipboard, map and camera while torturing myself with the only English-language cable news channel ("No more CNN! Nooooo!").
  
• 7am: Hotel breakfast. If lucky, a nice buffet spread. If unlucky, a set menu involving cold meat and cheese, and a boiled egg.
• 8am: Out of the door, following the map from the previous edition to check out the previously reviewed hotels, restaurants, museums etc. It's too early for most eateries to be open, but hotels usually have 24 hour reception. I'll check almost everything in the book anonymously, but sometimes the production of an LP business card is necessary at a hotel ("Just why do you want to see three rooms of different sizes?")
• 1pm: After hours of trudging around town, and up and down the staircases of hotels (budget lodgings rarely have lifts), I'll grab lunch, either at one of the restaurants in the book or a possible new contender. I also make notes from the menu. Unfortunately it's not possible to eat at every eatery in the book (there aren't enough mealtimes), but I can at least check out the decor, menus, clientele and other people's meals by walking through a place.
• 5pm: If I'm lucky, I've covered enough places for the day. If not, and I've been delayed by dodgy directions, roadworks, bad weather, numerous closures from the previous edition, or an insufficient spread of restaurants or hotels, there might be a few more hours of trudging.
• 7pm: Dinner at another place either in the book, or aspiring to be. More notes.
• 8.30pm: Either a session of typing the day's data into my laptop at the hotel, or research on the city's nightlife. Bars are fine, but nothing is more tragic than sitting alone in a nightclub at 9pm with a cheap drink, taking more notes.
• 11pm: Snatch a tiny bit of downtime, reading a book before bed. Having no TV entertainment is a blessing, as I get a lot of reading done. My literature this trip included Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, Bill Elton's Chart Throb, and Marina Lewycka's rather entertaining novel A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian.

As I've been writing this, I've realised that there actually is no typical day. Sometimes I'm later than this, sometimes up earlier, sometimes a day is blown on travelling to a new city. On another day in Warsaw I might have a meeting at the Australian Embassy, to ask them about dangers and annoyances reported to them by travellers.

The conclusion, in any case, is that guidebook research is not fun. People often respond to me mentioning my Lonely Planet gig by saying "That must be fun."

To which I say "That's the wrong adjective." Stimulating, yes, fascinating, yes, memorable, yes, but not fun. Fun involves travelling less intensely.

But I always add: every so often on an LP job, I walk around a corner and something unexpected just happens - something amazing or uplifting, that reminds me why I love to travel. And then the hard work seems all worthwhile.