Grand_Hotel_Pristina_Sign

 Hotels in Hell. Diary of a Female War Correspondent

You won’t find these hotels in a guidebook of great getaways. Amenities are woeful. Rooms aren’t clean or relaxing. You’ll find no vacationing families or romantic couples in the bar or restaurant. But for Olivia Ward, a Toronto Star war correspondent assigned to cover authoritarian hell holes from the Balkans to Central Asia, five-star spa resorts simply were not available. She stayed in hotels of last resort. Here is her story: Arriving for a first visit in Iraq to cover Operation Desert Fox, a four-day bombing campaign in 1998, I was determined not to stay in the notorious Al Rasheed Hotel, origin of a thousand CNN soundbites beginning “as bombs fell over Baghdad … ”

“There are other hotels, ” said my driver as we sped into the city. “Nice hotel, the Sheraton. Better than Al Rasheed.” But inexplicably, his car pulled up at the Al Rasheed. And while I was still protesting, three middle-aged bellmen had a tug-of-war with my luggage, eventually trundling it to the reception desk.

Octantis weather

Great Lakes Cruise Lets Passengers Become Scientists

A chilly breeze blowing across the Great Lakes separating the U.S. from Canada greeted passengers as they climbed to the top deck of the cruise ship. From the far end of the boat, three figures holding aloft an enormous helium-filled weather balloon began moving toward the gathering in an awkward six-legged parade. Expedition cruises featuring adventurous activities and exotic destinations, such as the Antarctic and the Galapagos Islands, are increasingly popular with families desiring a learning experience. The Viking Octantis, a 380-passenger vessel built to be part cruise ship and part scientific research platform, includes a laboratory and its very own submarines. The goal, says a marine scientist on the Viking staff, “is to do rigorous science that will be credible in academia and allow guests to participate.”

Tintamarre 2 photo Festival acadien de Clare

Acadians from  Nova Scotia and Louisiana bond in biennial reunions. Are pets de soeurs tastier than gumbo?

By Liz Campbell The room is full, and every foot is tapping. One musician plucks an unusual double bass made from a steel drum. A dozen others play their fiddles, guitars, accordions and drums. This is the weekly Saturday afternoon jam session at Vermilionville Living History Museum and Folklife Park in Lafayette, Louisiana. The historic…

Alps view from Leogang

Austria’s Alps Adapt Traditions to Meet the Relentless Advance of Climate Change

Saalfelden Leogang is not all up-and-down peaks and deep gorges. Much of the region comprises a broad agricultural valley centered on the town of Saalfelden (population 17,000). To the west, the valley narrows into a canyon leading to the village of Leogang (population 3,200). The two dozen or so hamlets and villages in between fall into the destination called Saalfelden Leogang. The location is central to everything: a five-hour drive to Venice, a four-hour drive to Vienna, two hours to Munich, and just an hour or so to Salzburg. Yet it’s just far enough off the main travel routes that most people are unlikely to pass through it. Unless they’re trying.

Seymour

Despite droughts,  fires and floods, America celebrates bountiful autumn harvests

It’s the first Saturday in October at Bauman’s Harvest Festival in Gervais, Oregon and dozens of children have broken free from their parents and are running for the petting zoo. Petting zoos are probably the most popular attractions at autumn harvest celebrations now occurring across the U.S. and Canada. On the other side of a tent selling hot coffee, apple tarts and pumpkin scones more parents and kids are scrambling up a hay bale pyramid or crowding expectantly around an above ground pool to watch local farmers weigh their pumpkins. In a few moments some of the biggest pumpkins will be sacrificed.

Lan Ha and Friend Cropped

The Áo Dài’s Flowing Elegance Mirrors Vietnamese Femininity

What images come to mind when you think of Vietnam? A peasant in the conical nón lá hat, harvesting rice from the fields? Colorful lanterns dancing from the masts of river boats or the corrugated eaves of Taoist temples in ancient Hoi An? Perhaps you dream of karst peaks that erupt from the placid waters of deep-blue Ha Long Bay?
All are part of the visual culture of the country I now call home. But I believe nothing says “Vietnam” more than the áo dài. The sleek silk gown is as much a statement of Vietnamese fashion and femininity as is the kimono in Japan, the sari in India or the cheongsam in China. At once draping and clinging, accenting the Asian woman’s natural curves, the áo dài teases with restraint and decorum, promising nothing but implying everything. As worn by Vietnamese women, who learn to walk gracefully at a young age, it is at once marvelously modest yet incredibly provocative. A man who isn’t stirred is either dead or recently divorced.