Even the strongest jenever—the Dutch predecessor to gin—won’t help you pronounce Wynand Fockink, but this 350-year-old bar and distillery is the best place to sip the juniper-laced drink. Imbibers spill out into an alleyway, their glasses filled with jenever concoctions infused with such flavors as vanilla, coffee, orange, or cinnamon. Pijlsteeg 31, 31/(0) 20-639-2695. Photo courtesy of Zemistor/Flickr. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
Just three months after opening last August, the 70-seat Samhoud Places restaurant was awarded two Michelin stars for international dishes such as sole in hazelnut sauce, chickpea and crab crepes, and eggplant moussaka. Hit the casual lounge for à la carte entrées if you’re not up for the six-course prix-fixe dinner upstairs. Oosterdokseiland 5, 31/(0) 20-260-2094. Photo courtesy of Samhoud Places. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
Located near the lively Museumplein, the Conservatorium Hotel pays tribute to the building’s former life as a music conservatory; a classical sound track changes with the time of day. Italian architect Piero Lissoni played with indoor-outdoor spaces. He created a courtyard lobby encased in glass and a spa with fig and olive trees. From $415. 31/(0) 20-570-0000. Photo courtesy of the Conservatorium Hotel. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
Headquartered about an hour north of the city, Royal Tichelaar Makkum has been making traditional Dutch pottery and tiles for more than four centuries. In Amsterdam proper, the design store Frozen Fountain sells modern Makkum pieces, including handpainted earthenware bowls crafted by Dutch designer Hella Jongerius. Prinsengracht 645, 31/(0) 20-622-9375. Photo courtesy of thomasseyck.com. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
This year’s Grachtenfestival, an annual 10-day celebration of classical music on Amsterdam’s famous canals, takes place from August 16 through 25. Guides lead architecture tours (in Dutch), and musicians perform on barges and docks. Don’t miss the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, which will play from a pontoon near the Hotel Pulitzer. Photo courtesy of Ronald Knapp. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
It has been a decade since the major museums on the Museumplein—a grassy square connecting Amsterdam’s main art centers—have all been open at the same time. Here’s what to check out at the Van Gogh Museum. Sunflowers, The Bedroom, and The Potato Eaters are just a few of the masterpieces on display as part of the “Van Gogh at Work” exhibit. Paulus Potterstraat 7, 31/(0) 20-570-5200. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
It has been a decade since the major museums on the Museumplein—a grassy square connecting Amsterdam’s main art centers—have all been open at the same time. Here’s what to check out at Stedelijk Museum. The modern art gallery’s controversial new wing (the exterior looks like a giant bathtub) houses a restaurant, a gift store, and expanded exhibition spaces that will host the works of Dutch artist Aernout Mik this summer. Museumplein 10, 31/(0) 20-573-2911. Photo courtesy of John Lewis Marshall. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
It has been a decade since the major museums on the Museumplein—a grassy square connecting Amsterdam’s main art centers—have all been open at the same time. Here’s what to check out at Rijksmuseum. Once you’ve made the pilgrimage to the canvases of Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Hals at the upgraded Rijksmuseum, visit the new Asian art pavilion and a two-story shop filled with gifts and books. Museumstraat 1, 31/(0) 20-674-7000. Photo courtesy of Jannes Linders. This appeared in the June/July 2013 issue.
I was strolling around the old town of Cartagena recently when I stopped to admire the exotic fruit on a street corner. I pointed to pile of apple-sized red fruit and asked what it was. The fruit seller replied: "mejillas del gringo." Translated, it means "cheeks of the gringo."
Walk around the prettied-up city of Cartagena long enough and you're bound to see the Botero sculpture of the curvy lady on Plaza de Santo Domingo. But a lesser known Botero--because it's tucked away in the courtyard of the lovely Sofitel Santa Clara hotel--is the sculpture pictured. It had a home on Paris' Champs Elysees for a couple years before making its way back to the artist's native country.
Not a lot of tourists come to the central Vietnamese seaside town of Quy Nhon. But lepers do. That's because just outside of town there's a leper colony, which is probably the most beautiful leper colony, ever. It's located on the beach and the lepers live there with their families. The colony is open to the public and even has restaurants and shops.
Charroux may be a small, insignificant town today but in the Middle Ages it attracted hordes of pilgrims. The once large (now ruined) abbey here housed a very special relic: the holy prepuce, or foreskin of Jesus, said to be the only piece of flesh Christ could have left on earth after his ascension. Never mind that there were Holy Foreskins in Rome, and several other French towns. This one magically appeared when a neighboring and rival abbey had suddenly announced they'd discovered some prized relics. So the monks living in Charroux one-upped their rivals: they conveniently (and rather magically) discovered they not only had the Holy Foreskin, but it had been donated, as the story goes, by the great king Charlemagne. Even the town itself is a reference to the relic: Char (red) roux (skin), and the abbey was designed in a way to reference the church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem where Charlemagne reportedly received the relic from an angel. Today the relic is long gone. No one knows where it is. The only thing that remains is the reliquary (pictured) which has an inscription: "HIC CARO ET SANGUIS CHRISTI CONTINETUR." (“Here is contained the flesh and blood of Christ.”)
Prague is a city crammed with jaw-droppingly beautiful buildings. Most of which is pre-20th century--Gothic and Baroque-era structures, for example. The 20th century, though, has little to represent itself architecturally, save for a few Art Deco and intriguing Cubist buildings. But then there's the Dancing House (or "Fred and Ginger," as it's nicknamed) which first went up in 1995. Designed by Frank Gehry and Croatian Vlado Milunic, the Dancing House was built on an empty plot of land where a stray WWII missile had taken out a building, one of the few structures in Prague that was damaged during the war.
This could be any street in Prague. Except it's not Prague. It's Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. Thanks to being under Habsburg rule for centuries several towns (including Prague and Ljubljana, not to mention Budapest, Zagreb and many others) have a very similar look to them. all shaped by the rules in Vienna.
I can never grow tired of looking at the Pantheon. It's perhaps the best preserved building from ancient Rome. It would have even been in better condition had Baroque artist and architect not stripped the roof of its bronze in order to build the Baldachino in St. Peter's Basilica.
Located in the Marais, L'As Du Falafel likes to boast about its connection to rocker Lenny Kravitz. Specifically that he has endorsed the falafel sandwich here. You don't need me to tell you this. Just go here: it's posted all over the walls. The fact is, though, L'As Du Falafel doesn't need to milk the Kravitz connection. They make a very delicious product. The last time I was there, two women in their early sixties were in line in front of me. After they ordered they turned around to me and said, "This is new to us. We come from Holland." As if Holland has been behind some kind of culinary iron curtain for the last few decades. Whether you're from Holland or Hungary, you should do like Lenny does and stop by L'As Du Falafel.
There's isn't enough beer in Bratislava to help you pronounce Most Slovenského národného povstania, or Bridge of the Slovak National Uprising. Which is a good thing, then, that they recently changed the name to Novy Most, or New Bridge. At least your liver will be thanking you for sparing it all the pivo, or beer. On top of the bridge, it looks as if I UFO has perhaps landed on it. Close. It's a restaurant called UFO.
At the palace in the Rajasthani city of Udaipur, one can order a refreshment with a "crystal touch" or, if you're feeling nostalgic, a refreshment with a "vintage touch." I opted just for the entrance to the palace but now I'm left wondering the meaning to these mysterious crystal and vintages touches and how they might relate or effect one's refreshment. Perhaps I'll never know....
Before I knew any better when someone in Calcata would ask where I lived in the village, I’d tell them the address, Via Garibaldi 23. In return, I’d get a blank stare. Since Calcata has less than a dozen lanes, I was initially baffled by people’s ignorance of my street. But then I learned that there really are no street names in Calcata. Sure, there are a few signs with names etched into them—my street, for example, Via Garibaldi, meets up with Via Cavour (Italian history buffs would find this a rather fitting meeting), which is around the corner from nice-sounding Via della Pietá; there’s also the intriguing Via della Porta Segreta (Way of the Secret Door), as well as Via della Scuola and Via San Giovanni. The two squares—which are connected and form an L shape—are officially called Piazza Umberto I and Piazza Vittorio Emanuelle II; but usually everyone in Calcata just refers to them singularly as “la piazza.” Calcata’s streets are that of a medieval street plan; meaning there’s no logic to the scheme, the opposite of the Roman street grid, the same plan modern city planners have adopted. Instead, a “straight” alleyway will have an ever-so-slight bend in it, the square will be irregularly shaped (in Calcata’s case, one of the two connected squares is triangular), and some lanes will just magically dead end. It looks and feels organic, a true relic of the Middle Ages when there was no central authority to impose its own civic planning on new towns and villages.
I recently did something unique -- to me, anyway -- in Los Angeles. I used public transportation to traverse the city. I grew up on LA and no one took public transport. That's because there really wasn't any. But on a recent visit I took the MetroLink light rail to Union Station -- a gorgeous art deco train station -- and then switched to the new-ish subway and took it to Thai Town for lunch. It was a very un-LA experience but one I hope becomes more and more LA as time goes on.
Just a typical scene in the crammed streets of old Delhi. If you look closely, you might see fellow AFAR Contributing Writer Tom Downey checking his email on his phone.
Most people who come to Azerbaijan and want to take home a souvenir usually end up with a rug, for which the country is famous. But if you're into kitsch (and not into rugs) there are plenty of other objects you can take home and cherish and forever remember that summer trip to Baku, Azerbaijan.
While I was exploring the ancient Shirvanshah's Place in Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan, I came across a view that showed old and new. The old (the palace) and the new, two of the three Flame Towers, which were recently erected and are symbolic of the new (oil rich) Azerbaijan.
One of things I love about travel is that when you cross a border or an ocean or a mountain range, you're also crossing into new hairstyle territory. I found this gem at the Frankfurt International Airport recently and I couldn't stop admiring the man's mullet/mustache/denim-vest combo. This is German fashion at its most astounding.
No one's really sure why but authorities in Azerbaijan had a very unique goal: to erect the world's largest flagpole. And that they did in September 2010. At 431 feet the $32 million flagpole (which flies the Azeri flag, of course) bested South Korea for the title. A year later, though, the global war against short flagpoles continued when a pole 10 feet taller was built in Tajikistan. The president of Azerbaijan, the aggressively mustached Ilham Aliyev, was reportedly so miffed that he canceled an official trip to Tajikistan soon after.
If only very country had a Professional Armwrestling League (or PAL). Well, Azerbaijan does. As I was strolling around the walled Old City in Baku, the capital of the country, I stumbled upon the league headquarters, a modest building on a quiet alleyway. I knocked on the door, hoping to find out more information but the office was closed, leaving me to wonder: just who IS the Michael Jordan of Azeri armwrestling?
One of high lights of being in Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan, is walking around the Old City, a walled section of town in the center. Just outside the walls are palaces built by 19th-century oil barons who came to get in on the country's first oil boom. The new Four Seasons hotel (pictured) looks like one of those palaces. It's not. It's newly built and tastefully designed to fit in with the rest of the buildings around the Old City. Walking the circumference of the walls takes about thirty minutes and is a pleasant stroll.
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