One of the most magnificent and diverse places on Earth, the United States is home to some of the world’s most awe-inspiring natural wonders. A few weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to have experienced several of these spectacles on my first-ever Contiki tour.
The Western Highlights expedition ventured across Southern California and Arizona, ending in Las Vegas. There was plenty of action and excitement every step of the way, and an abundance of nature’s finest sights on display—from beautiful beaches and rocky deserts to exotic animals and the majestic Grand Canyon. Here are a few highlights from the trip that any nature lover would appreciate.
Beach Bound
There’s a reason why California is known for its beaches: they are some of the finest in America, if not the world. Our tour group soaked up some rays and Cali-beach vibes at Santa Monica State Beach and its iconic pier, and also explored Venice Beach’s lively boardwalk scene. More beach time beckoned the following day, as we cruised down the Pacific Coast Highway to stunning Mission Beach for sun, sand and surfing until the sun went down. There’s nothing like a mesmerizing California sunset to cap off your day.
Venice Beach
Mission Beach sunset
All About Animals
We got in touch with our wild side at the world-famous San Diego Zoo. This sprawling wildlife sanctuary—which sits on 100 acres within Balboa Park—houses more than 3,500 rare and endangered animals in exhibits designed to replicate the animals’ natural habitats, and is especially beloved for their giant pandas. As an avid animal enthusiast, this was one of the destinations I was most excited for. Child-like giddiness came over me as I got up close and personal with all my favorites including gorillas, elephants, pandas, penguins, koalas, monkeys and flamingos.
Mama gorilla with her baby at the San Diego Zoo
Giant panda at the San Diego Zoo
Flamingos at the San Diego Zoo
Desert Destinations
After arriving in Arizona, an early morning hot air balloon ride in Phoenix was on the agenda. While peacefully floating in the air, we soaked up 360-degree scenic views of the rugged Sonoran Desert terrain and distant mountain peaks. Indigenous animals, including jackrabbits, deer and coyotes, and a variety of cacti species were spotted below as we peered down from our ballooned baskets.
Our next stop was in Sedona, a serene town with phenomenal views of the towering, vividly-colored Red Rock Mountains. After grabbing lunch on bustling Main Street, our group trekked through rocky terrain in off-road Jeep tours through seven magnificent canyons and historic Dry Creek Basin.
Ballooning over Phoenix
Red Rocks
The Grand Finale
How can I possibly describe the feeling of seeing the Grand Canyon for the first time?
Mother Nature has a way of grabbing you by the heartstrings and never leaving you quite the same again. This was one of those times. I was whole-heartedly moved by this larger-than-life sight—captivated by the radiant color combinations, endless erosional forms and ever-changing ridges of light that deviated with the sunshine and movement of clouds, non-stop from morning to night. The sheer magnitude of the canyon can never be accurately depicted in pictures or by words. It has to be seen with your own eyes, and felt with your own soul. Absolutely incredible.
The Grand Canyon
I heart the Grand Canyon
Discovering nature with Contiki was a life-changing experience that gave me, and my fellow travelers from all over the world, a new appreciation for why our great nation truly is America the beautiful.
An adventure lover at heart, Megan is a food, travel and lifestyle writer based in NYC. She has contributed to AFAR, Bon Appétit, Clean Plates, Eater, Food & Wine, The Daily Meal, Thrillist and Travel + Leisure, and runs her own website. Megan is happiest when embarking on new travel and dining experiences with her beloved family and friends, and her adorable dog, Cooper.
As the one Wyoming resident on my recent Go Ahead National Parks tour, I had a grand old time talking local lifestyle with my new touring friends while visiting Jackson, the Grand Tetons, and Yellowstone National Park. It’s not every day that I get sent out on assignment in my own backyard, and the opportunity to explore the great wild Wyo with a group of unfamiliar faces was part of the reason I accepted this assignment in the first place; the Cowboy State is one of the country’s most spellbinding destinations, and it’s always thrilling for me to be with people experiencing its wonders for the first time.
As our bus motored through Grand Teton NP, our tour director, Adrian, tossed me the microphone, and I proceeded to rattle off a few facts about the local atmosphere.
Bison are less friendly than elk, moose are less friendly than bison, and bears are least friendly of all. Except for badgers. And wolverines. They’re worse than bears. Cows are cool, but bulls are mostly ornery. More on bulls later.
Mountains are for climbing, woods are for hiking, and rivers are for traversing. And yes, Surf Wyoming is a real thing.
Geyser gazing is a great pastime, rodeo is a real sport, Rocky Mountain oysters (those poor ballless bulls) are not at all what they sound like, and you should wear your best boots and spurs when you visit the Million Dollar Cowboy.
As I wrapped our Wyoming Q&A, we arrived at the Old Faithful Visitor Education Center, and thrust ourselves into the throngs of onlookers eagerly awaiting the great geyser’s eruption. Adrian’s clever anecdotes and inside knowledge of both Grand Teton and Yellowstone lent the parks a feeling of familiarity and deepened the sense of spectacle, and left each of us charged to explore on our own. Many of us used our time to wander the boardwalk and gaze into bubbling mud pits, fumaroles and geysers, and a few were lucky to spot bison and coyotes playing in the muck.
We rolled on, deeper into the park, taking in the spellbinding views and ancient majesty at the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, where silence fell upon our party like a blanket. We hiked String Lake together, marveling at the towering Tetons, so close we could reach out and touch them, and floated down the serpentine Snake River with the good folks from Solitude Float Trips, who graciously shared the water with us (and a few of woodland creatures for good measure). In the evening we wandered the streets of picturesque Jackson, huddled under the elk antler arches in the town square, feasted on rustic pub grub at The Local, sampled quintessential craft beers at the iconic Snake River Brewing Co., and went all the way nouveau-Wyo at Thai Me Up and Melvin Brewing. Jackson’s sensational food scene is certainly its robust food scene.
The Wyoming segment of our Go Ahead tour was a remarkable three day stretch that blended into one epic experience. I live and play in Wyoming, and I know this part of the state well – and I know that Go Ahead delivered an immersive, experiential adventure, with plenty of time for solo exploration. As far as glimpses at the Wyoming way of life go, this was a great one.
Interested in learning more about Shawn’s journey? Read more about it on AFAR.com and check out Go Ahead’s U.S. National Parks tour.
Flash is a journalist, photographer, and author based in Wyoming. His work has been published by AFAR, GQ Magazine, USA Today, Voyeur Magazine, Reader’s Digest, Get Lost Magazine, Celebrated Living, Asian Geographic, Food and Travel, American Cowboy, and more. Flash is the reigning 2016 SATW Bill Muster Photographer of the Year.
How can I accurately describe in words an adventure that takes me through five states, six national parks and a legendary Navajo tribal park, up and over desert mesas, deep into bottomless canyons, out into the rugged backcountry of the Mountain West, and through the very heart of the American Road Trip Experience? A lofty goal, to scribble prose about such an experience – an experience so grand that even photographs fail to capture its essential essence.
That said, it sure is fun to try.
This was my first time on the road with Go Ahead tours, but it was obvious from day one that I was late to the party – it seemed as if more than half of or touring party had been on two, three, ten, twelve tours in the past, and while we exchanged pleasantries during our introduction dinner in Santa Fe, they raved about the good times ahead for us all (spoiler alert: the trip was every bit as remarkable as advertised). Yet instead of a lengthy debrief – a thinly-disguised effort to guard against a diary-style diatribe, if I’m being honest with you – I thought I’d write about a few of the experiences that truly touched me during this adventure.
I’ve been a journalist for more than 10 years now, and I’ve been fortunate to have been sent out on assignment to some of the most remarkable places in the world, to do some of the wildest and strangest things imaginable. Sure, a few of those places are probably best characterized as terrifying, and a few of the situations I’ve put myself in have made for less than ideal travel memories, but I hope, I believe, that each new experience helps me appreciate the next deeper, and allows me to live in the moment each time I set out to do my job.
Enter the tour company Go Ahead and their National Parks tour. Standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, peering out over an endless expanse of ochre and rust and cinnamon, condors diving to un-seeable depths, and clouds retreating toward a shimmering horizon, I quietly reflected on my entire career, and was charged with the realization that this moment ranked among the most moving.
Adrian, our energetic and informative Go Ahead guide, had slyly enriched our experience prior to our arrival by telling us stories about the architect Mary Colter and her efforts to design and build the Desert View Watchtower (as well as the Lookout Studio and the Hermit’s Rest). By the time we climbed the steps of the 70-foot stone monolith ourselves, it felt like we somehow deeply connected to the place, and that we knew a little something of the secret history of the Grand Canyon itself. Adrian’s thoughtful commentary – whether flecking conversations with anecdotes about mule trips into the Grand Canyon, or bear safety in Yellowstone – helped transform a sightseeing tour and into experiential travel expedition, and for his knowledge on geography, wildlife and history, I know I’ll be forever grateful.
I’ll remain grateful also for Adrian’s brilliant on-site recommendations. I knew I wanted to set off on my own for a more rigorous hike. I peppered him with constant questions about rim walks and hikes to great viewpoints; art galleries and artists in residence; and the best gift shops through which to procure walking stick medallions (in case you’re into that sort of thing…), and each time he responded with thoughtful commentary and useful references. And when he suggested that we embark upon a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon on our free day, I thought he was a certifiable genius.
What could I possibly say about a helicopter ride of the Grand Canyon that I couldn’t convey in photographs? Here’s a quick glimpse at this once-in-a-lifetime experience, courtesy of the folks at #FlyTheCanyon.
By the time my feet were back on solid ground, I was so energized that I truly believed I could conquer the canyon – so I gave it my best shot by racing down the legendary Bright Angel Trail. Notorious for its unforgiving incline (10% for much of the trail) and extreme weather variations – it can be a cool 60F on the canyon rim and a blazing 105F on the floor – the Bright Angel is best tackled over two days. Since I was working with a little less than half a day, I decided to tackle the 12-mile round-trip journey to Plateau Point, rather than the 20-mile march to Phantom Ranch.
At times my odyssey was grueling, but it was rewarding throughout – views from deep in the canyon itself are unparalleled, and there’s nothing like the sensation of trekking along until the hustle and bustle of the South Rim is muted, and all that remains is ancient rock and raging Colorado River. When I arrived at Plateau Point, I thought of my new Go Ahead friends, and how the trip had been designed with something for everyone in mind – my free time allowed me to get out into the wild and challenge myself, create a story to call my own, and a few memories to share when I returned to civilization. Go Ahead had delivered on their promise to immerse me in the National Parks experience fully and completely.
Interested in learning more about Flash’s journey? Read more about it on AFAR.com and check out Go Ahead’s U.S. National Parks tour.
Flash is a journalist, photographer, and author based in Wyoming. His work has been published by AFAR, GQ Magazine, USA Today, Voyeur Magazine, Reader’s Digest, Get Lost Magazine, Celebrated Living, Asian Geographic, Food and Travel, American Cowboy, and more. Flash is the reigning 2016 SATW Bill Muster Photographer of the Year.
Every guidebook description of Skagway, Alaska—no matter how brief—mentions its Fourth of July celebration. Every single one. How can one day be that print-worthy? Well, I’m here to count the ways:
Skagway’s Fourth of July celebration starts on the Third of July. It’s that good. The campgrounds and RV parks are filling up with attendees and parade participants have arrived and are milling around town, looking for action. A bagpipe band (Ensemble? Corps?) holds a practice session at the intersection of Broadway and 2nd Street. They’re casual, wearing sweatshirts and jeans, but the pipes sound strong and echo off the mountains that hug the town. Dogs and toddlers run around, confused and excited by the noise and people.
Because of the long hours of summer sunlight up here, the fireworks don’t start up until almost midnight. Shot off from a boat, they scream into the sky between the walls of the fjord, spectacular, reflected in the water. Again, the booming bounces between the rock faces of this box canyon, making it echo as long as the colored light falls from the sky. It goes on for a ridiculously long half-hour, relentless, no Grucci Brothers orchestration of highs and lows, just fun, over-the-top, pretty explosions. Afterwards, everyone wanders back into town from the water’s edge, pulling sleepy kids in wagons.
When morning comes, the bagpipes have begun warming up and people drift outside. The cross streets are blocked off. Three cruise ships arrived early and the brilliant white Holland America Line ship seem to be watching over the proceedings from its dock at the end of Broadway, massive and jarringly modern in this townscape of historic buildings.
The parade starts with floats from local businesses—decorated work trucks and tractors piled with employees and their families throwing candy to the spectators. Sled dogs, harnessed to a crepe-paper-festooned ATV, yap and strain and pull it up the street, clearly bummed out when they have to slow down for the stupid slow float ahead of them. A couple, dressed in vintage wedding finery, ride a three-wheeled bike back and forth along the street with a Just Married sign on the back.
A regiment of Mounties, in full Dudley Do-Right red woolen jackets and black jodhpurs, have come across the pass from Canada to march on our holiday, our smiling neighbors.
A huge papier-mâché head of Teddy Roosevelt looms down the street, leading several National Parks Service floats, homemade extravaganzas honoring the 100th anniversary of the national parks. Behind Teddy, female park rangers, each costumed and wearing beauty-pageant sashes bearing the names of national park, laugh and throw candy and wave. Ms. Statue of Liberty tries to read aloud the act of Congress that created the parks but she can’t stop laughing.
The parade goes around twice.
A post-parade schedule is circulated. It includes band performances, foot races, tug-of-wars (tugs of war?), arm-wrestling, eating contests, more. A basketball hoop is set up on Broadway and one-on-one contests and free throw competitions go on the rest of the day.
An epic egg toss begins: Close to a hundred participants line up across Broadway from their partners, the parallel lines of players extend seven blocks. The eggs are lobbed across the street and caught, or not. The losers step back, some with actual egg on their face; more and more missiles are thrown and the winners continue to close up positions until their ranks only span one block. The crowd is noisy, taunting, cheering, laughing. The length of Broadway is splattered with broken eggs. Finally a young couple, with impressive lobs and heroic lunging catches, win.
Up on the commentator’s platform, arm-wrestling begins. The kids’ divisions go first with contestants standing on folding chairs to reach the high table. The two final young competitors in the Girls Under-12 division are so well matched that their grimaces and moans continue for long minutes, a standoff. The commentator laughs, then cheers, then is at a loss for words. The girls strain on. No one in the rapt crowd is thinking about the strong men who’ll compete next because these two girls are determined and impressive superheroes.
In the foot races, the boys and girls run with a grace and lightness, even when they’re trying their hardest, that makes even the fastest adult look thick and plodding. Poor adults.
Cheating is apparently condoned in Skagway tug-of-war. Grown-ups and teenagers regularly step in to pull and even up the teams during the little kids’ contests. It is noisy and fun and good-natured and inclusive.
In addition to organized events, there are:
Dogs in tiny red, white and blue top hats.
Toddlers twirling and dancing to the drums and bagpipes.
Old people who set up their own chairs along the parade route holding court for the rest of the day.
The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, still in their magnificent uniforms, holding hands with their own kids and laughing.
Off-duty pipers in kilts, drinking beer at the bar of the Red Onion Saloon.
Broadway is crowded well into the evening, when the cruise passengers wander back to their ships, sidestepping broken eggshells. Everyone, townspeople and visitors, seems tired and really, really happy.
In summary, the guidebooks are right. If you can make it up to this tiny port town at the top of Alaska’s Inside Passage for the Fourth of July, you should definitely come to Skagway. I kind of cheated: My trip was part of a sponsored exploration of the Yukon-Alaska land programs offered by the Holland America Line, but I’d do it again on my own dime. This day is the feel-good stuff of small-town mythology.
In these quiet days leading up to her Powerball win, Ann Shields works as a freelance travel editor and writer. A fan of literature, museums, history, high-minded cinema, and bad television, Ann lives in New York with her husband and two teenaged children. She likes road trips, local bars, getting lost, and laughing, so Ireland ranks high on her list of favorite places.
At the risk of sounding like a flake, it seemed that as I approached Denali, I could feel its power grow.
I first noticed things were changing when we crossed a clear geographic divide between where we had been and where we were headed. Specifically, past the summit of Broad Pass on the journey between Anchorage and Denali, rivers begin to flow north, not to the Pacific, but to the Bering Sea, the Arctic Sea. (The Arctic! In my mind, my New York apartment swept exponentially further away.) During the last Ice Age, the region around this pass was buried under three miles of ice. The single thing tall enough to be seen above the thick rigid blanket was Denali. We can’t see Denali from here, but now we know it’s there.
The observatory train I was riding the McKinley Explorer, picks up the course of the Nenana River at the base of Panorama Mountain. The schist monolith looms tall above the rest of the incredibly high mountains and the train tracks pass by too closely to see it by itself, to truly measure its height or to photograph it to prove to others how tall it truly is. This mountain, unlike it green-mantled neighbors, rises in shades of grey, like a graphite-pencil drawing of a mountain against a backdrop of lively green, like the deepest chord on a pipe organ made manifest. Even its flanks are divided by alluvial piles of grey avalanched rock—the other mountains have waving ferns and buoyant moss and high grass tucked in their pleated skirts. The young train guide says: This mountain is tall, yes? We all nod, eyes on its immensity looming above the windowed dome of the train. He says: If you stack three of this mountain, one on top the other, that’s how tall Denali is.
In the dinner-theater production at the McKinley Chalet Resort, the lovely Holland America Line property directly across the Nenana River from the national park, the actors perform the story of the first ascent of Denali by two local characters. The backdrop hung behind the delightful cornball antics of the performers is painted with a deliberately amateurish abstraction of the mountain, a strangely mesmerizing canvas of ice blue, shimmery white, angles and ridges with orange-pink sunset tones. The cast members ham it up and laugh, sing and tell jokes, cajole and engage the audience, but that unblinking backdrop tells the story that they can’t. Outside those faux-rustic walls, there is a mountain.
Only 30% of visitors to the park actually get to see Denali—the mountain is more often than not obscured by the clouds that snag on its peaks and gather around it. Rain was forecast for my first day in the park so I brace myself for the possibility of not seeing the mountain.
The admirably democratic tradition of the National Park Service invites everyone to enjoy Denali National Park and Preserve but here everyone is limited to just one way in: the Park Road, a 92-mile-long road that runs west from the entrance on the east side of the park, roughly paralleling the Alaska Range. At the park gate, visitors on my tour, the Tundra Wilderness Tour, rich and poor, old and young climb onto tan-colored converted school buses to be driven as far as Mile 62, the Stony Hill Overlook. The narrow corridor of the vast six-million-acre park visible from the road is thrilling, glorious, and diverse, but the thought of all those many mountainsides and valleys and glaciers and wild animals beyond its reach is distracting. During the course of a seven-hour round-trip, my busload encountered antelope, Arctic ground squirrels, moose, Dall sheep, and the big-ticket item: a blond grizzly bear asleep on a hillside who woke, walked a bit and then stretched out to sleep some more.
Along the way we also saw braided rivers, glacial valleys, several mountain ranges, and the geologic big-ticket item, Denali. Just nine miles into the park, the bus climbed a rise and the driver said: There it is. Unlike the purple and green mountains around it, Denali is snow white. Its implausible white expanse is easy to mistake for a bunch of cumulous clouds clustered above the smaller mountains, until your eye notices the sharp lines and angles in that white mass, angles that make it unlike any cloud you’ve ever seen. Then you realize that those many clouds are in fact just one 20,000-foot mountain, so much taller and more magnificent than expected and you catch your breath. Or I did, anyway. And maybe you weep a little. And proceed to take pictures and stare intently at the mountain, to capture its greatness and to remember the thrill of standing before it. And to feel grateful to be among the 30% of visitors who get to see it.
When the bus proceeded down the road, the mountain was obscured again by closer hills and by roadside spruce forests. At the next rise where we could possibly see it again, its peaks had been swathed by lavender-grey. The clouds remained for the rest of the day, but edge of the north peak, a classic pyramid-shaped mountaintop, would occasionally cut through the cloud to assert its presence. I found myself distracted by those clouds, watching and waiting for the knife-edge of the peak to appear. And when, at the end of the day, the bus passed beyond any possible sightline of Denali, around the far side of the mountains that border the park, I was sad. I do believe I was leaving a sacred place.
When people talk about having some primal response or epiphany by visiting Bali or Rome or a safari camp, I listen and nod and wonder if maybe they’re still a bit giddy from jet lag. More than a week has passed since I returned to the city (my trip had been a sponsored exploration of the Alaska-Yukon land programs offered by the Holland America Line, so I had a lot of experiences to process). It’s been nearly two weeks since I was near Denali, but I do still feel altered, like I came near a great force, a powerful presence. I’ll admit it would sound flakey to the pre-Alaska me. But now I’m a different me. I’m already plotting my return to the mountain.
In these quiet days leading up to her Powerball win, Ann Shields works as a freelance travel editor and writer. A fan of literature, museums, history, high-minded cinema, and bad television, Ann lives in New York with her husband and two teenaged children. She likes road trips, local bars, getting lost, and laughing, so Ireland ranks high on her list of favorite places.
After a thorough immersion into Nashville and Memphis’ music scenes, our Trafalgar travels brought us to Natchez, Mississippi, and Louisiana. I had forged quite a vivid idea about the area after reading ‘The Bone Tree’ and ‘Natchez Burning’, the first two books of an epic trilogy of race, family and justice by Natchez author Greg Iles [www.gregiles.com]. I couldn’t wait to see how the real South matched up.
Joe Stone’s home and B&B in Natchez, Mississippi
Be My Guest
Nothing drops you faster into the culture of a place than an invitation to a local’s home. We only spent a night in Natchez, but we were treated to a double dose of the fabled southern hospitality at two of the grand antebellum (pre–Civil War) homes in town.
The Elms in Natchez, Mississippi
Our magical evening began with a short piano concert at Joe Stone’s home, which was built around 1850. Joe, a musician and antiquarian, played for us on his Steinway Grand, and between pieces told us about the music, Natchez, and his own intertwined history with ‘Stone House’, which has been in his family for over 130 years.
After the concert, we walked across the street to ‘The Elms’. This mansion, even older than Joe’s by 50 years, belongs to chef Ester Carpenter, who treated us to an incredibly picturesque dinner on her magnificent porch, surrounded by ancient oak trees.
My only regret about Natchez? I wish we’d had more time in this storied town. I would have loved to wander through the streets to take a closer look and try to run into some of the characters of Greg Iles’ novels that I had read so much about.
Frogmore Plantation Now & Then
The next morning, we finally crossed the vast Mississippi into Louisiana, the third and last state on our tour through the South. The goal was to visit Frogmore, an 1800 acre cotton plantation dating from the early 1800s that still works today as one of the most technologically advanced cotton estates in the area. In addition to farming their very land, owners Lynette and Buddy (George) Tanner are passionate about sharing an authentic slice of plantation history. Over the years, they have painstakingly restored a number of buildings that date as far back as the early 1800s. The timeworn kitchen, plantation store and slave quarters now provide a powerful background to Lynette’s historical tours of Frogmore.
Lynette Tanner, owner and expert guide at Frogmore Plantation, Louisiana
There was no sugar coating on the hard parts of Southern history. Lynette gave us an honest overview of what life on the plantation must have been first for the slaves, and later on for the sharecroppers. She read us passages from ‘12 years a slave’ by Salomon Northup, a slave’s memoir from 1853 that, as you may remember, was turned into an Oscar winning film directed by Steve McQueen in 2013. Lynette’s compassion, vigilant research and deep knowledge on the subject made for a deeply memorable and thoroughly educational experience.
Carefully restored slave quarters at Frogmore Plantation, Louisiana
Y’all Take Care, Until our Paths Cross Again
As our breathtaking trip neared its end, I began to think about the vast number of unforgettable experiences we were able to pack into such a short timeframe. It’s such a gift, to experience a new destination, and to be left with the feeling that you have barely scratched the surface. Trafalgar has given me this gift. I’m longing to come back for more now, on my own. And this time, without a schedule.
Nina Dietzel is constantly exploring as a photographer and AFAR Ambassador. She has photographed Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, collaborated with British sculptor and environmentalist Andy Goldsworthy, and documented the making of @Large-Ai Weiwei on Alcatraz. Her focus is travel and art, and her personal work has been exhibited in the U.S. and Germany.
This June, Trafalgar took a group of travelers across Tennessee, Mississippi, and Louisiana to experience the ‘Tastes and Sounds of the South’. Visiting Nashville, Memphis, Natchez and New Orleans, our schedule was packed to the gills with a mix of not-to-be-missed sights and intimate, one-of-a-kind experiences.
Food and Music of course were our constant travel companions. We sampled enormous amounts of decadent local foods at every turn, and at the end of the trip, in New Orleans, we even learned to prepare some gumbo, jambalaya and pralines ourselves. Ultimately though, it was the rock‘n soul, that connected me most deeply with the places we visited.
Nashville’s Broadway, with live music performances behind every door
Oh-That-Country-Music
Not quite an ardent fan of country music, I was determined to keep an open mind and ear when we began our journey in Nashville. The massive CMA Music Festival was in full swing, with literally hundreds of artists performing all over town. Bands played everywhere, the entire place teeming with live music. It was impossible not to get swept up in the country music excitement.
Private concert with Johnny Cash granddaughter Chelsea Crowell
It’s in the Genes
One of the most beautiful and memorable introductions to Nashville’s music scene however, was a private concert by Chelsea Crowell, who is one of the granddaughters of country legend Johnny Cash. Chelsea, accompanied by her husband, sang, played music, and talked at length about her rebellious grandfather. She even obliged us with a shaky rendering of ‘Walk The Line’, adding with a laugh, that it clearly wasn’t a song of his meant to be ‘passed on’.
Nashville’s recording Studio B
It’s Not About Size
After Chelsea’s performance, it was time for more history. We made our way to Studio B, a small recording studio that became famous in the 60s for playing a huge part in creating the Nashville Sound. Dolly Parton, Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Willie Nelson, and many others recorded over 35,000 songs here. Stepping inside the single-story building was like stepping back in time. Little has changed since the studio closed its doors in August 1977, coincidentally the same month Elvis Presley died. His presence was felt by all of us, when guide Brenda played us the haunting ‘Are you Lonesome Tonight’ in the darkened studio. Elvis has not left the building.
Of course, I also walked the vast Country Music Hall of Fame and visited Graceland, but thinking back on the early days of our trip, it was the intimate moments, connecting with Johnny Cash’s granddaughter and listening to Brenda’s stories at Studio B, that forged a true connection and made me feel Nashvillian, just a little.
Riders in The Sky, June 10th, 2016 at the Grand Ole Opry
The Grand Ole Finale
On our last night in Nashville, we went to the Grand Ole Opry, a spectacular weekly country music concert that is broadcast live on the radio for listeners all over the world. We had the best seats in the house (thank you Trafalgar!). The performances were first class, and the radio format with real advertisements read out during the intervals, curious and fun.
The final verdict? Music City delivered, and I got my ears tuned for good!
Nina Dietzel is constantly exploring as a photographer and AFAR Ambassador. She has photographed Israel’s Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, collaborated with British sculptor and environmentalist Andy Goldsworthy, and documented the making of @Large-Ai Weiwei on Alcatraz. Her focus is travel and art, and her personal work has been exhibited in the U.S. and Germany.
The older generation square dancing outside the Xi’an Old Wall
The single burnt out speaker crackles and pops as a high-pitched voice fills the thick night air in Xi’an. Mandarin sung is just as confusing as listening to it spoken, and now it’s blaring out of a single speaker that should have been retired about 15 years ago. However, it’s appropriate that a group of retirees are lined up in front of the old speaker square dancing on the new side of the city. At the same time, on the other side of Xian’s 40 foot high city wall in the old part of the city is another group of people lined up doing movements in unison. This group doesn’t have music and the average age is probably 23 years old. They follow the lead of a trainer as he shouts out stretching instructions as they prepare for a group run. I’m amused by this young and old culture in such proximity and it seems to be an ongoing theme I run into all over China.
Old/New, Ancient/Modern whatever you call it, opposites attract. China, maybe more than any other country, lives in this world of opposites. With a culture that dates back 4,000 years, China is considered one of the ancient civilizations along with Egypt, Babylon, and India. Today, however, its years of traditions are clashing up against the modern world and an economy growing at a rapid rate. It’s a petri dish of old and new intermixing, elders and hipsters co-mingling, braided together in a complex waltzing partnership; one in which you never quite know who is going to take the lead.
Many things and world famous sites stand out when you visit China; the Terracotta Warriors, the Great Wall, the architecture of Shanghai, and the billions of people. However, what I was fixated on was the relation between old culture and new. And I found it was this relation between ancient and modern that was the lens through which I viewed the famous sites of China during my tour with Wendy Wu Tours.
Shanghai Markets
Shanghai new architecture, and an old barge, viewed from the Bund
I was expecting Shanghai to be completely modern and architecturally stunning, but when I walked to the Bund district to view the sleek skyline from the river, the first thing I saw was an old barge chugging down the river in front of skyscrapers.
In addition to the busy pedestrian shopping street with familiar brands like Apple, TopShop, H&M and Starbucks, our local guide, Ling, took us to a street in Nanshi Old Town surrounded by old buildings painted in red with traditional Chinese rooflines. Don’t let the term ‘old town’ fool you though, its façade is old, but its goods are new. Bins of selfie sticks and the latest craze of plastic flower sprouts that people wear in their hair were found at every shop and vendor. Nestled among the latest fads though were a few old items; I was entranced by the old Chinese comic books. And by old I mean 1980’s old.
China’s latest craze sold on the streets of the Old Town – flower sprouts
But it was also here in Nanshi where we found the Yu Gardens, an oasis of calm and feng shui among the chaotic shopping streets. We walked around the beautifully manicured gardens and Ling told me about the 4 pillars that are required of any Chinese Garden; rocks, water, pavilion, and plants. As I walked through the gardens I forgot that outside of the walls was a chaotic crowded new square with dumpling vendors and people with selfie sticks.
And of course don’t forget the 5th pillar of a Chinese Garden…the garden cat
Xi’an Old City Wall
The city of Xi’an oozes ancient tradition; it’s one of the most important cities in Chinese history. It’s been the capital of 13 great dynasties and was the starting point to the Silk Road. Today it holds one of the most famous archeological finds in the world, the Terracotta Warriors; an army of 8,000 soldiers that were created and buried to protect Emperor Qin in the afterlife. As I pushed my way through what felt like an army of people to see the warriors, I was getting a feel for what modern day China is really like; bursting with people.
A crowd gathers around a warrior
However, what captured my attention in Xi’an was the Old City Wall standing 40 feet tall and 40 feet wide; a giant square cube running 8.5 miles around the old city. It was originally built to protect the city and Dynasty from invasion; however, it was never actually attacked. I guess the look of it was protection enough. Today the wall is this division of old and new. Inside sits the old city and Muslim quarter, bell towers, and parks. It’s quiet inside of the walls as only electric motorbikes are allowed, while outside the walls is a bustling metropolis of new buildings, high-rises, and traffic! Going up on the wall and walking or biking is a great way to place yourself between the old and new China.
The City Wall in Xi’an
Beijing Hutongs
Beijing’s culture was built in the hutongs, old courtyards forming tightknit neighborhoods where you find day-to-day life. Not many hutongs remain these days as most have been leveled to make room for the new China, but ironically, many tourists prefer to visit the few remaining hutongs rather than the city’s new modern buildings. It was my walk through the South Gong and Drum Lane hutong that made me love Beijing. I meandered through the narrow streets and alleys and got a feel for the old life of Beijing. I was even able to enter one of the homes and eat lunch with a local family.
I easily became distracted looking down every little lane, finding old men playing Mahjong. But the part I loved the most is that nestled among the connected homes, public restrooms, and men playing Mahjong, were young men and women with tattoos and piercings sipping coffee in small, hip coffee shops. This was the ultimate mix of old and new in Beijing. We stopped in at Si…if Bar on North Luogu Alley Dongcheng District, which labeled itself the ‘first bar in the hutong’. It was an oasis of calm during the day with its clever wood design, bar dog that would lay by your feet, and self-proclaimed “F!*cking Good Coffee”.
There was also a mixture of old and new at the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall, an hour outside Beijing. You can take a gondola up to the wall and walk on the ancient steps where warriors once protected China from Mongol invasion and then opt to take a more modern route down the wall – a toboggan slide that wound like a snake down the steep hill.
The Great Wall represents a very old time in Chinese history
Getting Off the Beaten Path
While many travelers tend to focus on the older, ancient sites of China, local guides will take you off the typical tourist trail and introduce you to today’s ‘new’ China.
Sherry Ott is a long term traveler, blogger and photographer without a home. She spent a year living in Vietnam, hiked the Annapurna Circuit, did cultural exchange programs in the Middle East, drove 10,000 miles from London to Mongolia, and walked across Spain on the Camino de Santiago. She seeks out adventurous opportunities to inspire people to overcome their fears and reap the benefits of travel. Hear more about her journey to China with Wendy Wu Tours at AFAR.com.
My first memory of international cuisine was when I was 12 years old. I’ll never forget going to a Chinese restaurant in Peoria, Illinois for the first time. It was darkly lit, with big round tables and little cups for tea. I was fascinated with these cups because they didn’t have handles – unconventional for my Midwest life. My dad ordered some dishes for our table; sweet and sour pork, wontons, egg foo young, and pork chow mien. I remember being that awkward age that hated eating anything that I didn’t know, but wanting to try new things. I had no idea how to use the chopsticks in front of me – they seemed as confusing and impossible as solving my Rubik’s Cube – but that was the first of many Chinese dinners I had in my hometown of Peoria. Chinese food reminds me of my childhood and exploration of new things, so when I landed in China for my 8 day trip with Wendy Wu Tours, I was excited for one thing – I wanted to eat!
Eating in China
Though China may seem daunting due to the language barriers, your local guide can lead you through all the tough decisions – like what to eat! They can help you order and work your way through the maze of menus. Most of the restaurants that we went into were gigantic, with big round tables and a lazy Susan in the middle for easy sharing. The menus tended to be the size of an old Sears Catalog and include pictures and English, which made things a little easier. These are great places to eat but it you want to throw caution to the wind and find some restaurants that are smaller and don’t have pictures or English menus, then just ask your guide and they’ll lead you deep into the alleys of China to eat. After all, travel is about going local and exploration of new things!
A super thick menu with pictures
Dumplings
I quickly learned that dumplings are a staple in Shanghai, little bites of flavorful goodness; but in Shanghai you get something extra in your dumpling – soup. I had my first soup dumpling at breakfast (yes, dumplings for breakfast). I was startled when I bit into what I thought was a normal dumpling and soup came out and subsequently went all over me! I pretty quickly learned that Shanghai dumplings need to be eaten with care. Shanghai is known for 2 main kinds of dumplings: Xiao Long Bao, a dumpling made of wheat dough that is steamed, and Sheng Jian Bao, made of a thicker dough first fried in a cast iron skillet and then steamed. Both are typically made of pork and have a gelatin soup inside that gets heated and liquefied when steamed. Dip them in a vinegar soy mixture and try to poke a hole in it first so that you can ‘drink’ out the soup or at least let it cool before you bite into it! My favorite way to eat them was with a straw.
Xiao Long Bao – or XLB as the cool kids refer to them!
Sheng Jian Bao – or SJB
In Xi’an we not only ate dumplings (jiaozi), we learned how to make them. Our teacher, Chef Jin, makes about 3,500 dumplings a night, which explains why her super power is to make dumplings lightning fast. Seriously, if you blink you’ll miss it and will all of a sudden have a butterfly shaped dumpling in front of you. Chef Jin works at the Shaanxi Sunshine Lido Grand Theatre (and in the time it took you to read that title, she made 4 dumplings). She makes dumplings every night for customers who come to the cultural theater show. Her dumplings are in the shape of butterflies, roses, swans, cabbages, and ducks. However, for teaching purposes she kept the shapes simple and slowed down long enough to show us how to roll out the dough, spread in the filling, and then form them into shapes. Mine didn’t turn out too shapely, which made me conclude that I’d rather eat them than make them.
Rolling out dumpling dough in Xi’an
Milk
In our quest for local food, our Shanghai guide took us for a traditional breakfast enjoyed by the fast paced business workers in Shanghai – warm, sweet soymilk and a fried breadstick. Yon Ho is a fast food chain that started as a street stall in Taiwan and now sells their soybean milk all over China. The drink sort of tastes like what’s left in the bottom of a cereal bowl once all the cereal is gone and immediately won me over! It was fun to be the only foreigners in the restaurant and watch a steady stream of young business professionals come in and eat before work. Sort of like the Chinese Starbucks – a cool (and tasty) view of daily life in Shanghai!
Warm soy milk and fried bread
Noodles
Have you ever heard a noodle? In Xi’an if you listen carefully you’ll hear why the Biangbiang noodle got its name. It is named after the sound of dough being thwacked on the chopping board so it can be stretched into one very long belt-like lasagna noodle. We stopped at a local food court inside the old city in Xi’an and saw the noodles being made and then slurped them down in a delicious broth mixture with soy, peppers, and scallions. And if you are wondering, in China it’s perfectly acceptable to slurp your noodles!
Biangbiang noodles in a soupy broth
My other favorite noodle was the Peking noodle dish found in Beijing. The noodles are long, cylinder shaped, and delicious. My favorite part was that the noodles, vegetables, and sauce were brought out in separate bowls and it was up to us to mix the three items together at the table…with chopsticks. Good luck…the taste is worth it!
Peking Noodles is a dish you need to put together yourself!
Peking Duck
It might look slightly unappetizing to have a whole duck brought out to your table, but trust me on this and say ‘yes’ to Peking Duck when in Beijing! The duck is best known for its breeding and roasting process; plus it was once the food of Emperors.
We went to Da Wan Ju, a small, local restaurant near the Wangfujing night market. Once the duck is carved by your table, you eat it in a pancake with scallions, cucumber and sweet bean sauce all rolled up like a taco. However, I’m not sure what I liked the most – the duck breast ‘taco’ or the crispy skin! For pure decadence, try dipping the crispy skin in sugar – the ultimate treat!
Carving Peking Duck at our table
Street Food
If you want to get a little bolder, then try the street food in China! Don’t get scared away by Beijing’s Wangfujing night market, which tends to cater to tourists more than locals. It’s a market with split personalities – it has a bunch of great traditional street food such as noodles, dumplings, and soups mixed with creepy crawlies on a stick. It’s definitely worth a visit to see how daring you are! I decided to try dessert there after our Peking Duck dinner, sweet sticky rice ‘pops’ on a stick were the perfect ending!
Luckily I was already full when we came across these delicacies!
Sticky rice pops – more my speed!
There are plenty of other street markets selling food all over China’s cities that are geared to locals and your guide can help you find. Our guide led us to the Chang li neighborhood in Shanghai to try some local street food. Nestled among retail stores, the market smelled of durian and was filled with businessmen and women stopping to get dinner on their way home from work. The food is cooked right in front of you and I suggest you just pick the stand with the biggest line! The other great thing about local street food is it’s cheap; I had a giant noodle and veggie dish for only $1.20 USD.
What About the Fortune Cookies?
If you are looking for those crispy sweet fortune cookies at the end of you meal in China, you’ll be waiting forever. In fact 90% of Chinese people don’t even know what they are. One of my biggest surprises was learning that fortune cookies aren’t really from China at all; they are from the United States, created in San Francisco.
The food in China was nothing like what I grew up eating at my family’s favorite Chinese restaurant in Peoria; instead it was infinitely better. And like most things in the world of travel, it’s even better when you can get out and explore the local scene, because it’s all about the journey.
Sherry Ott is a long term traveler, blogger and photographer without a home. She spent a year living in Vietnam, hiked the Annapurna Circuit, did cultural exchange programs in the Middle East, drove 10,000 miles from London to Mongolia, and walked across Spain on the Camino de Santiago. She seeks out adventurous opportunities to inspire people to overcome their fears and reap the benefits of travel. Hear more about her journey to China with Wendy Wu Tours at AFAR.com.
The mention of Rio conjures up images and emotions for everyone. A funky, hip, fun city, it is a mix of Mother Nature’s paradise and man-made amenities. It’s a place where coastal roads hug the huge craggy mountain faces that jut up towards the sky, and a place that throws one of the biggest parties on earth! I had the pleasure of visiting Rio de Janeiro with EMBRATUR, Adventure.com and LATAM as a part of AFAR’s partnership with USTOA, and although we only had about a day to zip around the city, our itinerary took us to some of Rio’s timeless attractions along with a few that fly under most travelers’ radars.
A panoramic view of Rio de Janeiro from Corcovado Mountain
Looking toward Sugarloaf Mountain from Corcovado
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (credit: Colin Roohan)
Christ the Redeemer in all its glory
Our local guide Rodrigo taking in the views or Corcovado
Our group woke early and took a bus up a winding, densely forested road to Corcovado Mountain, home of the iconic Christ the Redeemer statue. It was early enough that we beat the crowds, but unfortunately on this morning, we also beat the sunshine. Clouds, rain and haze surrounded the platform in front of Christ the Redeemer barraging the statue in a cloak of grey. After roughly 10 minutes, the cloud hovering overhead passed and revealed the statue in its full grandeur. Those that were present on the platform below began frantically taking pictures and selfies before another ominous cloud slowly rolled in, replacing the previous. As nice as it was to see the statue in front of a blue-sky backdrop, the quickly moving storm clouds made the statue even more impressive – all 98 feet of Christ’s form seemingly floating through a mass of haze.
Colorful graffiti in Rio’s Lapa neighborhood
A cable car running through the Lapa district
From Corcovado, our local guide, Rodrigo, and I split from the rest of the group and headed to one of Rio’s better known areas, the Lapa neighborhood – the yin to Copacabana and Ipanema’s beach-scene yang. Lapa is a playground of motion and we quickly got caught up in the morning commuters buzzing about the streets, briefcases and aromatic coffee in tow. What I loved about Lapa was the eclectic mix of artistic influences from graffiti and murals to colonial architecture and oddly futuristic buildings – the embodiment of Rio, albeit on a smaller scale.
The incredible Escadaria Selarón, such a great artwork
A close up of some tiles used in the Escadaria Selarón
A local gentleman plays a berimbau on the Escadaria Selarón
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil (Credit: Colin Roohan)
Undoubtedly, and for good reason, the coolest thing in Lapa is the Escadaria Selarón, a colorful, mosaicked set of steps embellished with bits of tile, ceramics and mirrors created by artist and former local Jorge Selarón. The Chilean-born Selarón began his beautification of the steps as a dedication to the Brazilian people, but what started as a small scale mosaic blew-up in scale and popularity through the years becoming an obsession for Selarón. In the later years of the project, visitors from all around the world donated tile to Selarón’s art piece. Walking up the steps, I found spotting the various cultural references fascinating as they really show how many people Selarón inspired with his art.
A man out walking his dog in Lapa
A group of guys juggling a soccer ball on Copacabana Beach
A building facade in Rio’s Lapa neighborhood
The Carioca Aqueduct in front of the Metropolitan Cathedral of Rio de Janeiro, two highly contrasting styles in Lapa
Later that afternoon, the same clouds that earlier graced the hem of Christ’s garment had relocated to Copacabana Beach. Fortunately, after a while the rain stopped and pedestrians started to emerge, repopulating the cycling lanes and walkways lining the beach. The little cafés brushed water off of their chairs and readied their bar stations, and even though the weather wasn’t ideal, it was easy to see why these beaches are so appealing. I sat down with a coffee and watched groups of men juggle a soccer ball while others competitively pummeled a volleyball back and forth. I didn’t get the picturesque beach-scene sunset that is often depicted in travel shows and movies but just being present and enjoying the distinctive vibe was rewarding enough.
Later that evening our group headed back to Lapa to get a taste of the night life. As I suspected, the night crowd around Lapa was as energetic as the commuters I had encountered that morning. You could tell Rio de Janeiro is a city where citizens work and play equally as hard. As we walked toward a boulevard full of cafes and restaurants, we were sidetracked by a rhythmic raucous coming from inside a dimly-lit warehouse. We peaked inside and were greeted by the sound of drums thumping heavily while a circle of musicians swayed along to the beat. We watched for a while then headed back outside where tables and chairs began filling the sidewalks, making it tough to discern where one restaurant ended and another began. The whole area was filled with a cheery air, such as that of a family function. It was the perfect way to cap off a day in Rio de Janeiro, and surprisingly, I didn’t regret that I had only been able to explore for one day. It is such a charming city that it made a very vivid and lasting impression, one that will stick with me until my next visit!
Colin Roohan is a travel photographer interested in documenting experiences with culture and life. In addition to his work with AFAR, Colin has been published in Travel + Leisure, The Royal Geographical Society’s Hidden Journeys, and Groove Magazine, amongst others. In addition to journalistic pursuits, Colin captures portraits and documents events around Southern California. Hear more about his journey to Brazil at AFAR.com.
