JANUARY 2015 • `150 • VOL. 3
WINNERS!
ISSUE 7
TRAVEL STORYTELLING CONTEST
2015 PERU
CHOQUEQUIRAO, THE OTHER MACHU PICCHU
CORSICA
NAPOLEON’S SOULFUL ISLAND HOME
JAPAN
THE HEART OF BUDDHISM IN KOYASAN
CITY SURPRISES IDEAS, TRENDS, PLACES KUBLAI KHAN’S BEIJING • MALDIVES CLOSE ENCOUNTERS • MALVAN KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL
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WHERE TO GO IN
S! WINNER l ave
Tr elling ryt t Sto ontes C 119 P.
January 2015
Contents
Volume
3
Issue
7
N A T I O N A L G E O G R A P H I C T ra v eller I n d ia
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In Focus
66
Journeys
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96
Where to go in 2015
City Surprises
Blue Planet
Ready for some inspiration? Our list of great places to visit this year will have you packing your bags in no time
Essential places, people, trends, and ideas that distinguish the world’s smartest cities
First encounters with the underwater world are life-changing in unexpected ways
By george w. stone
By Neha Sumitran
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national Geographic Traveller INDIA | january 2015
Raga Jose Fuste/Prisma/dinodia
Buenos Aires, Argentina.
JANUARY 2015 • `150 • VOL. 3
WINNERS!
ISSUE 7
TRAVEL STORYTELLING CONTEST
WHERE TO GO IN
2015 PERU
CHOQUEQUIRAO, THE OTHER MACHU PICCHU
CORSICA
NAPOLEON’S SOULFUL ISLAND HOME
JAPAN
THE HEART OF BUDDHISM IN KOYASAN
30
On The Cover In this photograph by Italian photographer V. Giannella, tourists go horse riding near the town of Bonifacio, on the French island of Corsica in the Mediterranean Sea. A number of riding centres on the island offer horseback trips to explore its mixed topography of beaches and mountains.
CITY SURPRISES IDEAS, TRENDS, PLACES KUBLAI KHAN’S BEIJING • MALDIVES CLOSE ENCOUNTERS • MALVAN KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL
Voices
Super Structures
22 Tread Softly
42 Urban Essence
Are the artefacts we find really ours to keep?
Searching for Kublai Khan in rapidly changing Beijing
24 Far Corners
54 Vintage Appeal
Piety and pulchritude in Khajuraho
Jaipur’s glitzy Raj Mandir movie theatre
26 Book of Hours
Smart Traveller
All illustrated travelogue from Alsace, France
56 Money Manager 48 Hours in Belfast
Navigate
30 Postcard
112
Japan’s bullet train turns 50
Charming stays in Provence, France
32 Geotourism
Get Going
The Pacific Remote Islands become safer for its marine residents
108 Learning Holiday
Urban Spirit 34 Brisbane makes a splash 36 Seoul puts cyclists first
112 Active Holiday
Experiencing Malvan, one cooking class at a time
Kayaking through Baja’s jewels
38 The Insider
Short Breaks
London between the lines: The best of the English capital
114 From Chennai
40 Bookshelf Titles that take you from Egypt to North Korea
40 Culture 42
64 Checking In
New Year’s traditions around the world
The allure of Vellore
Stay 116 Forget the clamour of Mall Road in this modern Mussoorie resort 117 Long massages and Konkani meals in a Goa retreat
january 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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chen xiaogen/xinhua press/corbis/imagelibrary (girl), ralph lee hopkins/getty images (kayakers), dallas john heaton/stock connection/dinodia (train), de agostini/v. giannella/dinodia (cover)
18 Editor’s Note 20 Inbox 118 Big Shot 120 Inspire 128 Travel Quiz
Editor’s Note | niloufer venkatraman
Wishing Well
For a few weeks of December and January each year, I feel like the time ahead is full of possibility. Like I’ve got a chance to fix things our mission National Geographic Traveller India is about immersive travel and authentic storytelling, inspiring readers to create their own journeys and return with amazing stories. Our distinctive yellow rectangle is a window into a world of unparalleled discovery.
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national Geographic Traveller INDIA | january 2015
popular magazine called and asked if I’d like to go to Malaysia. I hopped on a flight and was off to Southeast Asia in three days flat. The same principle applies to the winner of our Travel Storytelling Competition, who will go on an assignment somewhere in India or overseas this year, and even I don’t know where just yet. Suggestion number two is to start out with an idea, and the conviction that what you think impossible is actually possible. Believe that you can get that passport, or leave, or time off, or enough money, or whatever it is that’s coming in the way of your trip. Add to that a dollop of effort, a push from that state of inertia. As the editor of a travel magazine I find myself on both sides of the fence. I need to bring out this magazine every month, and require all hands on deck at every stage. Yet, I’m thrilled when I hear staff discussing their vacation or weekend travel plans. Depending on whether you’re the leave-approver or leave-seeker, this can be good news or bad: 2015 has a bunch of long weekends available for short breaks. Besides, there are several holidays on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Taking a day off from work on the occasional intervening Monday or Friday will make for an extra-long four-day weekend break. So, here’s my third suggestion: If you missed out on making the best of the long weekends of 2014, you’re getting a second chance. Grab it. There’s a thirst for travel lurking in almost all of us. Dip into the wishing well of possibilities. Place your plans on the front burner. Change the things you can change. Maybe this year you can live out the journey of your dreams.
Craig Lovell/Nomad/Corbis/imagelibrary
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lmost everyone has a dream holiday. An idea of where they would like to travel someday. The reverie may be just an abstract one to go abroad, or a concrete one to visit Greenland or Lifou or Easter Island. Often it isn’t about going to a fancy, remote, or exotic place. My daughter, who is eight, constantly daydreams of going to Goa, and occasionally, of a trip to Disney World. It might be the most clichéd destination in the world, it may even change every week, but it’s nice to have that craving—your very own personal musing of where you want to go. The great thing about the dawn of a new year is that no matter what happened in the year before, the advent of January makes me feel hopeful. For a few weeks of December and January each year, I feel like the time ahead is full of possibility. Like I’ve got a chance to fix things. So, at the start of 2015, I’m offering three suggestions for travel. Not because I am the best advisor on such matters, but just to share what works for me and what I’ve learnt from others. Sixteen months ago one of my colleagues didn’t possess a passport. For years she’d convinced herself that getting one was too difficult owing to her peripatetic existence: She just didn’t have a permanent address that she felt would allow her to get that travel document. Then came a prospective trip to Canada and motivation kicked in. What was thought of as impossible for years became a reality in three months. Today, when I look at the pinboard above her desk I see a handwritten sign that says “Galapagos 91,751”. That figure is the minimum amount of money she needs to save up for a ticket to that astounding archipelago in the Pacific Ocean, off the coast of Ecuador. My first suggestion for 2015 is to have a passport and keep it valid at all times. That’s something my parents luckily did for me when I was very young. My dad would say you never really know when your next trip is coming, so always keep your passport ready. Trips sometimes really do emerge from unforeseen places. As a young student, I recall unexpectedly travelling to Copenhagen and London when an adoption agency suddenly needed an escort for a young baby. When I was in-between changing careers a dozen-odd years ago, the editor of a
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We asked our readers to tell us their biggest travel bloopers. Their responses left us in splits.
Fell off raft during banana ride. I scream, “bachao bachao”. Random guy says: “Khade ho jao.” Was in knee deep water. @manishmutalik Falling from an elephant, while teaching kids how to climb one, with 5 tigers barely 100 metres away. @B_menon86 Returning from an animal rights demo and being stopped by security, coz “why did we have a cow’s head with us?” @bijal_v
Baisakhi Seal Chandra is the winner of our online photo contest, Daily Shot for the theme Looking Back. To send in your entries, log on to natgeotraveller.in.
Mountain Magic
Correction The caption on page 119 (“Time-Travelling in Agra”, November 2014) incorrectly mentions Noor Jahan’s tomb in the Taj Mahal, Agra. The tomb we were referring to is Mumtaz Mahal’s, the wife of Shah Jahan.
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Share stories of your travel with us. We will publish some of them on these pages. Emails letters@natgeotraveller.in Letters National Geographic Traveller India, Sumer Plaza, 2nd Floor, Marol Maroshi Road, Andheri East, Mumbai 400 059. Published letters may be excerpted and edited. Subscribe Call+91 22 40497435/ 37 or write to subscribe@natgeo traveller.in
he mountains have a way of putting things into perspective. Peering down at the mammoth beasts from my airplane seat, I realise just how insignificant my existence is. I was going to land in Leh shortly, and eventually would make my way to the Nubra Valley of Jammu & Kashmir. Just the sight of the Himalayas made me feel more adventurous. Man-made creations look like tiny pebbles in front nature’s white and wondrous peaks. –Shefali Bharati
The editorial titled “Amazing Grace” (November 2014) was brilliant as it dealt with an issue that we all encounter: our attitude when we travel. As children, our parents have always taught us to respect and be cordial to guests as well as those who serve us. Most importantly, we were taught to put ourselves in the other
person’s shoes. As an avid traveller, I have always considered myself and my family ambassadors for my city and country. Once you adopt this attitude, your outing turns into a dream holiday. –Ravi Sarangan
I generally pick up bike magazines, which is what
I intended on doing at the bookstore the last time I went there. Fortunately, the wrong magazine was packed up for me, and I landed up with a copy of Nat Geo Traveller India. I find it extremely useful, since I am a student of tourism studies. I’ll buy it consciously next time. –Gauttham Mohan
Visit us at www.natgeotraveller.in january 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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Baisakhi Seal Chandra
Write to us
I took a lift with a motorbike in Jodhpur, I cribbed about police during whole ride, turned out he was police #oops @intodust_in
Voices | book xxxxxxxxx of hours amruta patil
ANAﾃ記 SEGHEZZI (AMRUTA PATIL)
Writer-painter Amruta Patil is the author of graphic novels Kari and Adi Parva. Book of Hours is her travel journal.
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national Geographic Traveller INDIA | january 2015
Navigate | geotourism
The South Pacific Sings a New Tune THERE’S GOOD NEWS FOR THE PACIFIC REMOTE ISLANDS’ MARINE RESIDENTS | By MELISSA COLEMAN
A regal angelfish on a reef in the Pacific Remote Islands.
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sanctuary on land or sea. The seven volcanic reef atolls and islands of the PRIMNM remain uninhabited and—luckily for the endangered sea turtles, rare melon-headed whales, and pristine corals—visited only by permit. GROUP MENTALITY
The neighbouring isles of Palau, Kiribati, and the Cooks will also enlarge protected areas around
NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | JANUARY 2015
ATLAS
Pacific Remote Islands, U.S.A.
their shores, totalling, along with the expanded PRIMNM site, reserves larger than Greenland. HOW TO EXPLORE
Kiribati rings in the new year a day before neighbouring islands.
The Nature Conservancy regulates public access to Palmyra Atoll, and underwater explorers can scuba-dive amid unparalleled populations of tropical fish and sharks at Palau’s Blue Holes and Blue Corner.
january 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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JAMES MARAGOS/USFWS
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otorious as the vicinity from which Amelia Earhart made her final distress calls, the equatorial Pacific between Hawaii and Fiji is becoming a little safer—at least for marine life. President Obama’s proposal to add a new protected area larger than the size of Alaska to the existing Pacific Remote Islands Marine National Monument (PRIMNM) would make it the world’s largest
Navigate | urban spirit
Seoul Searching Revolutionary Roads in South Korea | By Jayme Moye
Bicyclists along South Korea’s Nakdong River.
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Reinventing the Wheel
Pedal-pushers can take in a varied landscape—roughly 70 per cent of this nation consists of forest, rivers, lakes, and mountains— as well as experience some of the world’s most advanced cycling infrastructure. Bikeonly highways tunnel through mountains and over rivers; bike-repair shops, restrooms, and picnic sites line the paths.
national Geographic Traveller INDIA | JANUARY 2015
ATLAS
Seoul, S. Korea
Hangang River is a popular cycle trail in Seoul.
Course of Action
On a 60-kilometre stretch of the Nakdong River Bike Path, cyclists pass the Sangju Bicycle Museum, a Confucian school founded in 1606, and Gyeongcheondae Terrace, a rock cliff prized for its view of the Nakdong. Finally, at the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Andong Hahoe Folk Village, weary riders can recover in a minbak (fire-heated inn).
JAN SIEFKE/LAIF/REDUX
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icycles have long been the quickest way to navigate the traffic-choked streets of Seoul. But far from a last resort, cycling has become a national pastime throughout South Korea. Since 2010, the country has built more than 1,610 kilometres of paved cycling routes and plans to create a network of paths along its four main rivers.
Super Structures | vintage appeal
Dessert Rose Jaipur’s most famous movie theatre has a sweet appeal | By Ambika Gupta
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ourists to Jaipur are drawn to its roseate sand stone palaces, its busy bazaars, and to a building that resembles a huge, pink cake. Raj Mandir, a famous singlescreen movie theatre, is the realisation of architect W.M. Namjoshi’s vision to ensure that visitors felt like royal guests at a palace. The theatre was built in the 1970s in the late art deco style. But unlike the stately curves of most such buildings, it takes its confectionery theme very seriously. The main auditorium— done up in soft pink, powder blue, and white—is frequently described as a giant meringue. There are swirls of creamy plaster frosting on the walls, and the screen is bordered by tasselled crimson velvet curtains. Raj Mandir’s foyer, meanwhile, belongs in a fantasy song sequence: Looking at the sweeping staircase with illuminated
banisters, you half-expect a heroine to sashay down any minute. Jellyfish chandeliers are set in electric blue domes in an enormous ceiling, accentuated by lights that flash aquamarine and red. The over-the-top interiors are matched only by the sensational musicals screened there. The theatre is owned by the Suranas, one of the city’s oldest jewellers, who bring their aesthetic to the architecture. The facade is studded with nine coloured stars representing the nine precious gems or the navratnas of Hindu mythology. The theatre’s seats are similarly divided into pearl, ruby, emerald, and diamond categories. Now a tad frayed around the edges, Raj Mandir has acquired a vintage appeal. While Jaipur residents make a ritual visit every so often, it has also hosted former Prime Minister A.B. Vajpayee, Maharani Gayatri Devi, actordirector Raj Kapoor and, more
ATLAS
Jaipur, Rajasthan
Raj Mandir seats 1,000, and has earned the exaggerated sobriquet, “The Pride of Asia”.
recently, his grandson Ranbir Kapoor. The late director B.R. Chopra summed it up: “There is nothing like Raj Mandir anywhere in the world. It is not a cinema, it is a tourist attraction.” The landmark’s draw is rarely the film being screened there; rather, it’s the surreal experience of being inside a bejewelled dessert. In a land crammed with historical structures of all manner, this is another ticket to feeling like royalty—if only for a few hours.
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massimo borchi/latitude/corbis/imagelibrary (hall), bloomberg/contributor/getty images (raj mandir)
An example of late art deco architectural style, Jaipur’s Raj Mandir cinema (below) is shaped like a giant meringue. The air-conditioning ducts inside the hall (above) are said to release a floral scent during every screening.
In Focus | ideas for 2015
2015 Where to go in
Sark, a petite French island off the coast of Normandy, is among the few places in the world where cars are banned. Horse-drawn carriages and cycles are frequently used by travellers exploring the Channel Islands.
world
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Zoonar/Uwe Moser/dinodia
Ready for some inspiration? Our list of great places to visit this year will have you packing your bags in no time
In Focus | ideas for 2015
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The Presidio, San Francisco from Spanish Conquistadores to Star Wars
a coveted U.S. Army assignment. Officers dream of three things, the saying went: “to make colonel, to die and go to heaven, and to be posted to the Presidio.” In 1994, ownership passed from the Army to the National Park Service. Now the Presidio is a selfsustaining trust, thanks to rents paid by one-percenters like George Lucas, whose Lucasfilms office here is blessed with a Yoda sculpture on a fountain. (Critics prefer sculptor Andy Goldsworthy’s nearly hundred-foot-tall “Spire,” near the Arguello Gate.) But why nitpick? Instead, savour a hot chocolate after a hike on Crissy Field. Listen for the whiz-whir generated by bikers pumping down Lincoln Boulevard above North Baker Beach’s clothingoptional sunbathers. Delight in the eucalyptus-scented footpath called Lovers’ Lane. The Presidio, young Skywalker! The Force is strong with this one.
If the San Francisco Peninsula resembles a forearm ending in a fist, then the Presidio is the topmost knuckle-by-theBay. The virile park of viridian woods and knockout vistas can make travellers forget its original function was for war, not Instagram. To San Franciscans, it’s both muse and playground—with the latest addition being the newly transformed Officers’ Club, reimagined as a local hub for exhibits, performances, and dining. Established by Spanish conquistadores in 1776, the military garrison of St. Francis and its six square kilometres defended the bay from any invaders tempted by the riches of Alta California. For the next 218 years, soldiers stood guard against the machinations of empires. But the English, Russian, Japanese, and Klingons—Star Trek’s Starfleet Command is headquartered here—never came. The base became
—Andrew Nelson
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1 The Presidio, San Francisco 2 Port Antonio, Jamaica 3 Mont St. Michel, France 4 Zermatt, Switzerland 5 National Mall, Washington, D.C. 6 Corsica 2015 Best of the World 7 Choquequirao, Peru 8 Mornington Peninsula, Australia 9 Koyasan, Japan3rd Proof Traveler 10 Mergui Archipelago, Myanmar 11 Maramures¸, Romania 12 Haida Gwaii, British 9/9/14 Columbia 13 Esteros del Iberá, Argentina 14 Tunis, Tunisia 15 Sea Islands, South Carolina 16 Taiwan 17 Medellín, Colombia 18 Sark, Channel Islands
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national Geographic Traveller INDIA | january 2015
France’s Mont St. Michel Island is known for its 16th-century Gothic abbey, a UNESCO World Heritage site.
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Port Antonio, Jamaica blithe spirits in paradise
mont st. michel, france
india pick
Faith and a feat of human genius
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For about a thousand years, travellers have gasped when the Abbey of Mont St. Michel has loomed into view, rising from a bay fed by tides that are among the highest and most treacherous in Europe. What makes the sight transcendent is the play of light, sky, and weather that can shift hourly here off the coast of Normandy. Total isolation was the point, and pilgrims had to wait for the tide to recede to make their way across the flats to the abbey. That changed over time. In 1879, a causeway was built to ease the approach to Mont St. Michel. The construction and years of agricultural development, though, led to a build-up of silt and sea grass. Rather than lording regally over an expanse
of water, Mont St. Michel now stood at the end of a massive mudflat. A reclamation project began in 2005 with the goal of returning the abbey as much as possible to the maritime context the monks envisioned. “What is important is not that we are restoring it to its original state,” says Patrick Morel, who is heading up the massive reclamation effort that includes a dam and a pedestrian bridge leading to the foot of the mount. “We are restoring the original spirit.” The work is on schedule to finish in 2015, when, with deliberate calibration, 50 times a year, Mont St. Michel and its great monastery will once again seem to float in the water that surrounds it. —Marcia deSanctis
kollam, kerala I’ve been meaning to go for years, and now more than ever, a detoxifying break is calling out to me, as it is to other sardined city folk. Look for a centre in Kollam, Kerala. Not the hotels but the Ayurvedic centres where holistic health is the focus, with diet, yoga, and purification and massage therapies. Niloufer Venkatraman, Editor-in-Chief
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doug pearson/ getty images (raft), Igor Plotnikov/Shutterstock (sheep)
Wooden rafts were originally used to ferry bananas from plantations to the Port Antonio Harbour in Jamaica. The rustic boats now carry travellers down the languid Rio Grande River.
When a hurricane blew his yacht off course in 1946, Hollywood heartthrob Errol Flynn discovered paradise in Jamaica’s Port Antonio, purportedly proclaiming it “more beautiful than any woman I have ever known”. This haven on the island’s northeast coast first boomed when American millionaires such as Alfred Mitchell and his heiress wife, Annie Tiffany, built estates in the early 1900s. Flynn’s arrival cued a second swell, drawing Noël Coward and Katharine Hepburn. Now a new generation has discovered Portie’s pleasures, from the smoke-fogged jerk grills lining Boston Beach to the log rafts that drift down the lazy Rio Grande. British music producer Jon Baker opened Geejam, a seven-room boutique hideaway. And with Portie-born, Toronto-based financier Michael Lee-Chin, he has re-launched two formerly faded properties, the Trident Hotel and the Castle. Together, they are reviving the Blue Lagoon, the famed swimming hole. “The Blue Mountains are our natural filter,” says Baker of the forested highlands that lie between Jamaica’s capital, Kingston, and its most pristine coast. “You have to try harder to get here, and dig a little deeper for the reward.” —Elaine Glusac
In Focus | ideas for 2015
4 zermatT, switzerland Why would a remote farming hamlet turn into a first-class travel destination that attracts 1.5 million visitors a year? The answer is simple: Because it’s there. Zermatt, the only village on the Swiss side of the Matterhorn, has been luring travellers ever since British adventurer Edward Whymper made the first ascent of the mythical 14,692-foot peak 150 years ago, on 14 July, 1865. Nowadays car-free Zermatt witnesses a colourful
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procession of chocolate-nibbling tourists searching for cow souvenirs, sunbrowned hikers and climbers clomping around in big boots, and the fashionably rich lavishing hundreds of thousands of dollars on Swiss watches. Yet, one activity bonds all: Nobody can resist pointing a camera up to that majestic wonder of nature. The Matterhorn isn’t the highest peak in the Swiss Alps, but its nearly perfect triangular shape makes it one of the most photographed in the world.
national Geographic Traveller INDIA | january 2015
Only a five-minute walk from most hotels, the Kirchstrasse Bridge is an ideal location to watch the sunrise awakening of the mountain. But the closest to the summit a visitor can get without climbing rope is via a helicopter ride with Air Zermatt. “I’ve flown around the summit some 5,000 times, but it’s still an amazing experience,” says pilot Gerold Biner, who was raised in Zermatt. “Sometimes we can even see the smiles on the faces of the climbers.” —Menno Boermans
PatitucciPhoto
Peak of Perfection
world Hikers survey the Matterhorn from the summit of Tête Blanche.
National Mall, Washington, D.C.
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The Great Unfinished Work
History is a meandering river, not a straight line. And yet Pierre L’Enfant’s 1791 plan for the new federal city sketched out a tidy grid of grand boulevards, gardens, and monuments—as if geometry alone could create a nation. At the heart of his original scheme for Washington, D.C., was a mile-long stretch of green, a blank slate for an emerging America. As the nation’s fortunes grew, so did the National Mall, and by 1922 the park spanned two miles, from the Capitol grounds to the newly dedicated Lincoln Memorial. Changing times called for evolving landscapes. Where Victorian plants once bloomed, congressional staffers in fluorescent knee-highs now play kickball. Where Mary Ann Hall’s highclass brothel prospered during the Civil War, the National Museum of the American Indian stands. An effort to protect “high-tech turf,” recently planted by the National Park Service, threatens to push popular annual festivals off the green lawn. The Mall is embraced as hallowed ground not because architects willed it but because people chose it. Citizens congregate on the Lincoln Mem orial steps—where Marian Anderson sang “America” in 1939 and where Martin Luther King, Jr., gave his “I Have a Dream” speech in 1963—to contemplate democracy’s “unfinished work,” Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address words, etched in the monument to his legacy. With the rise of the National Museum of African American History and Culture, due to open in 2015, the National Mall marches toward what it should be: not just a formal park in a fed eral city, but also a central space for self-expression and equal representation. In short, a field where dreams can come true. —George W. Stone
india pick TADOBA Just a few hours from Nagpur, Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve has astounding biodiversity. It is a special favourite for the five tigers that came close to our vehicle to say hello and for the night spent in a machan with leopards roving below. But even more now, for its communitybased tourism and the women forest guards, a feisty gang of young bravehearts locally called Durga Shakti. Go now, not just for the tigers but also for the people who protect them. Sejal Mehta, Editor, Web
corsica Napoleon’s soulful island home
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Two hundred years after Napoleon Bonaparte suffered his final military defeat, Corsica, his birthplace, stubbornly resists its own cultural Waterloo. Though this Mediterranean island has deep, historic ties to Italy and has been part of France since 1769, its 3,00,000 inhabitants retain a fierce pride in their unique culture, including the proverbrich Corsican tongue. But to keep that birthright vibrant in the face of tourism
and its homogenising effects, their battle remains constant. Fortunately, most of the island’s three million annual visitors come for the undeniable pleasures of the coast or for the thrill of visiting historic La Maison Bonaparte, in the city of Ajaccio. All of which leaves the island’s mountainous interior largely untouched. “Go inland and you will find the soul of Corsica,” advises Jean-Sébastien Orsini, director of a traditional Corsican polyphonic
choir in the foothill town of Calenzana. Olive groves and quiet villages dot the slopes and isolated valleys of the interior, vast swathes of which are protected by the Parc Naturel Régional de Corse, which covers almost 40 per cent of the island. Hiking trails lace forests of oak and pine. In the villages here, you encounter Corsicans who still feel passionately the adage “Una lingua si cheta, un populu si more—A language is silenced, a people die.” —Christopher Hall
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Journeys | perspective maldives
Blue Planet First encounters with the underwater world are life-changing in unexpected ways BY NEHA SUMITRAN
Over 99 per cent of the territory of the Maldives is water. The remaining one per cent comprises groups of small coralline islands called atolls.
maldives
Wildlife sightings aren’t limited to the turquoise waters. Maldives’s beaches are inhabited by herons, colourful lizards, and shy hermit crabs.
I’m trying to be very still. Bleached coral debris, sharp and beautiful, graze my knees, but I dare not
perched on my sandy thighs, my gaze alternating between the beach and the pale turquoise water. Dawn is breaking over Medhufushi and the island is putting on a well-rehearsed show. The sky is a mirage of pink, mauve, and orange. The ocean has a cerulean glaze that would make a potter weak in the knees. Even the coconut trees are in on the act. They shimmy faintly to the gentle breeze that tickles the tendrils of hair at my nape. For what seems like the nth time, I shake my head in disbelief. It’s ridiculously beautiful, fake even. Some gall the Maldives has, being this drop-dead gorgeous. From the corner of my eye, I see a creature scurrying across the beach to my right. A pair of hermit crabs peeks out of their home, eyes like mustard seeds, scanning the periphery, scrutinising me, wondering if they can trust this scruffy creature peering back at them. I hold my breath, careful not to shift the sands under me. In a matter of seconds, a few more crabs emerge from their conical shells, going about their morning chores. More shells come alive, and soon there are hundreds of hermits tip-toeing across the beach. One even nibbles at my toe to see if I might make a good breakfast, but quickly returns to a spool of seaweed that looks like a cassette come undone. “Oye!” I hear a friend yell from another part of the beach. “Are you going snorkelling today?” I nod my head, wary of disrupting my hermit friends, but it’s too late. The shells have gone back
to pretending. They’re lifeless and unmoving again. The beauty of the Maldives takes some getting used to. Like most visitors, I spent the first few days mentally pinching myself every few hours, not to convince myself that I was actually here, but to assure my Photoshop-battered mind that places like this actually do exist. Understandably, every island resort in this archipelago milks its postcard-perfect landscape for all its worth. Open-air bathtubs by the sea, swings in the middle of the ocean, above-sea rooms with glass flooring, sunset cruises serving curaçao cocktails—it’s an Instagrammer’s wet dream and yet, I find myself taking far fewer pictures than I usually do while travelling. It seems too easy. And every other image on my camera’s viewfinder looks like a standard-issue desktop wallpaper. Even the hitches on my trip are airbrushed. My first day is spent exploring the waters around Medhufushi resort. Most islands in the Maldives have their own home reef and waters filled with fish. Within minutes of entering the lagoon, I have seen shoals of barracuda, surgeonfish couples sniffing around crimson coral, sting rays, clown fish, and dozens of young black-tipped reef sharks scanning the waters with fierce concentration. I’m a little alarmed at first, despite the fact that they are obviously babies: Just how big are the adults? january 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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michele westmorland/dinodia (boy), wolfgang kaehler/contribotor/getty images (aerial view)
move. Just a few minutes longer, I tell myself, and they’ll come out again. I keep my eyes peeled, palms
Journeys | perspective As I get used to the faint ocean current, Kevin George Theseira, the enthusiastic manager of Medhufushi, whizzes by on a jet ski. “What are you guys doing here?” he asks, perplexed. I explain, sheepishly, that we missed the snorkelling boat. He offers to take the two of us over to a reef a few kilometres from the shore. I go first, excited at the prospect. A few minutes later, I am dropped into the ocean. “I’ll be back soon,” Kevin says. “You’re sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” I nod, and jump in, but it isn’t until the sound of the jet ski dies out that the magnitude of the situation truly sinks in. I’m alone, completely alone, in the Indian ocean. My pulse quickens. The shore is a thin, wavy, beige line that I see intermittently, as I bob on the surface. Shark memories return, along with flashes of conversations from the scuba hut. “This is also whale shark territory.” “Steer clear of trigger fish, they can be nasty.” “If you see a manta, stay very, very still.” Everything I’d been hoping—even silently praying—to see was now a terrifying thought. I will myself to think happy thoughts, to think of Nemo (“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.”) but it takes me several minutes to summon the pluck to put my head under the water. When I do, my buzzing mind is stunned into silence. I have entered another world. Time slows, like a walkman running out of juice. It’s blue, crystal clear, and feels as though I can see for miles. Unlike landlubber wildlife, the fish are completely unperturbed by my presence. I glide over a school of yellow snapper for a few minutes, following their neon tails over a clutch of electric blue coral. Polyps sway in slow motion. A frilly, purple creature I do not recognise spins like a top a short distance away. The afternoon sun filters into the water, streaking the blue with lines of light. My hair swirls around my face like seaweed. I stop kicking. For a precious few moments, I hear only the sound of my heartbeat and the gentle lull of the ocean. Heart-stopping as the morning’s snorkelling was, I can’t help shake off the feeling that I’m not getting a sense of Maldivian culture. Walking through Malé town, the capital, I get a glimpse of local life, but it lasts only a few hours. I stroll through the narrow, paver-blocked streets, past souvenir shops, shawarma stalls, small schools, and large mosques. In the food market, I chat with veiled women over packets of fishflavoured crisps and rolls of coconut barfi. They tell me the travails of life in a world more blue than green. “It’s so expensive,” one confessed as she paid for her bag of vegetables. Almost all the produce consumed on these islands is flown in from China and Dubai (interestingly, both countries have funded rather elaborate mosques in Malé). Seafood is imported from Sri Lanka, since most marine life except for tuna and reef fish is protected. Coconuts are plentiful, but almost all other veggies are flown in, just like the tourists for whom they are brought. What’s a standard meal at home like? I ask the women. “Tuna fish curry,” she says, but shakes her head and laughs when I ask her where I can get some. “Come home,” she offers. I remember this encounter a few days later, on the evening cruise, when we’re served a platter of salmon and cream cheese canapés. I am deliciously tired after another long day of snorkelling and excited because tomorrow, I will go on my first assisted dive. The sun dips into the ocean, leaving the sky crimson with longing, and I sip on a mojito, chatting with honeymooning couples from Egypt and Germany. Most of them aren’t too fond of the water—one hasn’t set foot in the
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perspective
tobias helbig/getty XXXXXXXXXXXX (XXXXXXXXX) images (street), will salter/getty images (man), franco banfi/getty images (feather star), rene frederic/dinodia (fish), Fridmar Damm/Flirt/corbis/imagelibrary (bananas), reinhard dirscheri (diver)
To get a sense of Maldivian culture, visit islands like Maafushi (top left) which are inhabited by locals but have tourist facilities as well. Markets are a great place to strike up conversations with local folk. They generally abound with tropical fruit (top centre) and fish (top right). The real Maldives though, lies beneath the surface. Among the many, vivid creatures that call these waters home are spiral coral (bottom right), anemone fish (bottom left), and feather stars (bottom middle), commonly seen by divers exploring the deep blue.
Journeys | perspective
I can barely hear my lanky dive instructor over the roar of the motorboat. He is saying something about having three regulators strapped on to me, in case one malfunctions. We’re skimming the turquoise waters and the dive site is about half an hour away. “I’m going to be with you the whole time,” he says, “so don’t freak out, okay?” I have been reduced to a bobblehead. I’m nodding a mile-a-minute, my palms are sweaty, and I cannot stop grinning like a lunatic. I’ve waited years for this and to be taking the leap in the Maldives seems like a real blessing. Firsts don’t get more spectacular than this. I take a deep breath, put my right hand on my mask, and jump in. All the talk in the world doesn’t prepare you for the sensa-
Lagoons can be quite shallow, sometimes knee-deep, making them perfect for children and grown-ups who want to explore the ocean but aren’t ready for the deep end.
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tion of falling in the sea. As soon as my jacket is deflated, the weights strapped to my waist band take over and I begin to descend, achingly slowly. It’s a few degrees colder and all I see before me is an empty expanse that threatens to swallow me whole. Occasionally, a lone fish darts out of the oblivion, making me jump in my suit. I sink some more, clutching the instructor’s hand, holding tighter than I’ve ever held anyone before. Even the blue of the mighty Indian Ocean can’t mask the white of my knuckles. I am suddenly, keenly aware of how laboured my breathing sounds in my ears. (Why didn’t anybody tell me I’d sound like Darth Vader down here?) I feel pressure building and clogging up my ears. My pulse quickens and though my breathing is fine, my ears refuse to acclimatise. “Get out! Get out!” my mind screams. Viscerally conscious of how this silent, still blue thickness is not my natural environment, I persevere for one more sinking metre, and then another. Nails dig into the instructor’s hand. Friends have described dives as liberating, meditative even. To me, at this moment, it feels unnerving, alien, life-threatening. At some point, I look up and see a halo of sunlight, a good distance above my head. That’s when fullblown paranoia kicks in. I spend the next 90 minutes shuttling between the surface and a depth of three metres, in a futile effort to get past this crippling fear. The instructor tries to cajole me into trying one last time. “The reef is magnificent,” he says. “More fish than you can imagine,” he says to tempt me, but I can’t. Dejected, I haul myself out of the sea and sulk all the way back to the hotel. The others have spent their evening dolphinwatching and return with videos that will make friends back
reinhard dirscheri/getty images
ocean—and yet, they cannot be happier with their choice of destination. “It’s paradise,” one says, nuzzling her husband of three days. “A tropical heaven on earth.” This is the lure of the Maldives. It’s a perfect bubble, a piece of the planet that’s as manicured as it is naturally stunning. It draws divers, leisure swimmers, and beach bums. Luxury tourists looking for a pretty place to vegetate, movie stars willing to pay top-dollar for their privacy, and more lovers, perhaps, than any other country in the world. These doe-eyed travellers fascinate me the most. They come here to pamper themselves, to mute out the world, to claim their piece of paradise, if only for a few days. And yet, they seem the least seduced by Maldives’s charms. They ooh and aah like the rest of us, but really, have eyes only for each other—it’s enviable and tragic at the same time. My own fascination with this island country has extended well below the surface. The beaches are stunning of course, but I want more of the blue.
maldives
home green with envy. They saw dozens of dolphins, clicking, swishing, and pirouetting by the boat. I slink away from the merry crowd to nurse my wounds alone with a stiff gin and tonic by the bar. Maldives does its best to soothe this hurt with blushing sunsets, shallow ocean sightings, and by sheathing me in luxury. I swim with a massive turtle, encounter a manta ray in the reef around Anantara Dhigu, a plush but intimate resort in a nearby atoll. Anantara has a cluster of three hotels—for families, couples, and movie stars—and is in an atoll frequented by whale sharks. I could go kitesurfing and parasailing, or kayak to an uninhabited island a few kilometres away with a picnic lunch and an icebox full of pre-mixed cocktails. It’s a tempting idea, but I choose a snorkelling trip instead and am richly rewarded. Meeru, among the Maldives’s oldest resorts, has a strong party vibe. Happy Hour signboards urge us to have another round of tequila, maybe some fish tacos, and let us know there’s a band playing on the beach later. At the large island resort, golf carts ferry bronzed guests between basketball courts, a mini-golf race course, tennis lawns, and six bars. It’s more crowded than the others but also more laidback. I’ve got a water villa at Meeru, which is a suite on stilts above the ocean. From the porch with steps leading to the sea, I watch sting rays and dozens of reef sharks. The more time I spend in the water, the more I realise that I need to get over that first dive. I excuse myself from dinner early, leaving the drinking, bobbing crowds to spend some time alone. A nice, hot soak in the Jacuzzi had seemed like a good way to spend my last night, but it feels too manicured now. Not with the sea a few steps away.
Drink in hand, I settle on the porch, my legs dangling, toes grazing the ocean. I go over the dive again in my head. Why had I freaked out the way I did? But then I think, why should it have been any different? I had put myself in an environment entirely alien to me, and I’d reacted instinctively. Not in a manner most favourable perhaps, but not ridiculously out of line either. In a strange way, the experience had given me more clarity than ever. A grey fin breaks the surface of water, and I see the snout of a reef shark move in my direction. It’s an adult, a gorgeous creature, at least two feet long and I am mesmerised by its movement. I’m acutely aware that, beautiful as it is, this is a fragile ecosystem and one that we seem perilously unable to protect. Conservationists say it could be as little as a decade before global warming claims the Maldives. I watch the shark glide through the shallow water, casting shadows on the marbled water of the lagoon. I have two choices: I can stick to snorkelling the oceans for the rest of my life, or I can give it another shot. Instant connections are great, but some things require time and effort. I will never know what love-at-first-dive is like, but my first encounter with the ocean has been life-changing in more significant ways. So I make myself a promise: When I return home to Mumbai, I’m going to book myself a four-day dive course in the Andamans. I will get acquainted with the process, slowly; ease myself into the ocean and eventually, I will learn to dive. Not because it’s on a brochure or because it’s the thing to do in a place like this. But for myself, and for the wealth of experiences that await me. Seventy per cent of the planet is just too much to miss out on. january 2015 | national Geographic Traveller INDIA
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In the Maldives, a photo-op is never more than a few steps away, and some hotels have in-house photographers who can be hired by the hour.
Facets of a City
Vellore has a bit of everything, from old-world allure to absorbing history, green open spaces, and delicious food | By Kamala Thiagarajan
2+ DAY S
An exquisitely carved monolithic pillar (left), one of many in the kalyana mandapam of the Jalakanteshwara Temple, reflects the late-Vijaynagara style of architecture; The temple lies within the precincts of Vellore Fort, which is surrounded by a moat (top right); The fort also contains a picturesque mosque (bottom right) protected by the Archaeological Survey of India.
Vellore always reminds me of Malgudi, the fictional town created by R.K. Narayan. Its air of rustic camaraderie strikes you the moment you ease off the maddening highway into the city’s residential hub. I am captivated by the broad tree-lined avenues; beautifully painted palatial homes decorated with exquisite terracotta art; women in half-saris balancing brightly coloured pots over their heads, smiling and greeting one another as they pass; and tiny roadside temples sheltered by huge neem and tamarind trees.
But there are many dimensions to Vellore. It is also a dynamic city that is rapidly growing and developing. Its famed Christian Mission Hospital (CMC) is a hub for medical tourism and visited by people from around the world. The city also has Tamil Nadu’s second largest prison, which once held freedom fighters, including former President R. Venkataraman who was confined here in 1940-41. The sprawling Vellore Institute of Technology campus throbs with life and has a large number of international students.
The Vitals
Vellore is located in northern Tamil Nadu and is 125 km/3 hours east of the capital Chennai. Buses ply regularly between the two cities (tickets from `300). Taxis charge `2,500 for the one-way journey. There are frequent trains from Chennai to Vellore Katpadi junction (duration 2-3 hours; tickets from `160).
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Kannan Muthuraman (girl), ip-black/indiapicture (fisherman), zamzam images/alamy/indiapicture (mosque)
the insider
Short Breaks | from chennai
tamil nadu
four ways to explore DATE WITH HISTORY
IN A GOLDEN GLOW
Six such pillars, depicting a soldier on horseback, greet visitors at the entrance of the Jalakanteshwara Temple.
explore (fort open 9.30 a.m.5 p.m. daily except Fridays and second Saturdays; entry `5 for adults, `3 for children, `100 for foreign nationals, `20 for cameras).
TAKE A WALK Vellore is surrounded by pockets of scenic greenery with several wild residents. Begin your exploration at the serene Amirthi Forest and Wildlife Sanctuary. The Amirthi River waters this fertile area, which is full of swaying trees, mini waterfalls, and rolling grassland. As you stroll through the lush park trying to identify bird calls and spot elusive deer and antelope, do remember to survey the abundant herbal garden (25 km/40 min south; taxis `500 for round trip).
happy TASTE BUDS The fragrant biryani from the town of Ambur (50 km/1 hour west; taxis `1,2001,500 for round trip) uses a special, stubby rice called seeraga samba, a traditional variety grown in Tamil Nadu and known for its chewy texture. Unlike Hyderabadi biryani, the meat and rice are cooked separately and then together in a closed clay pot over a slow fire. Try it at Star Biryani, famous fourthgeneration vendors (www. amburstarbriyani.com; `150 per plate). If you don’t have the time to make a special trip, the roadside stalls in Vellore Bazaar, Katpadi, Gandhinagar, or on Arcot Road do a fairly authentic version. I also love Vellore’s budh pedas (pal khova in Tamil) and
Sripuram Temple is a recent addition to Vellore, yet it has become a huge attraction. Visitors throng to the golden shrine, located south of the city amidst a soothing carpet of green. It is one of Tamil Nadu’s biggest shrines, occupying a built-up area of over 50,000 sq. ft. in grounds that sprawl over a hundred acres. Entire gopurams, both inside and outside, and an array of pillars arranged around a star-shaped court yard have been plated with gold at a cost of about `300 crore. The path to the temple is flanked by golden archways, symmetric bushes, dancing jets of water, and bright lamps. I was awestruck by the ornate ceilings and crystal chandeliers. Massive pillars give visitors the impression of being borne by carved gold-plated elephants, and delicate floral patterns lace the gold gopurams. About 20,000 varieties of bushes and trees have been planted in the surrounding gardens. I learnt that it took 500 masons 7 years to complete construction of the temple. I wasn’t surprised: The structure is bound to leave an indelible impression (daily 4 a.m.-8 p.m.; www. sripuram.org).
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The ramparts of Vellore Fort, made of granite blocks fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle, glitter under the harsh sun. I feel I can see centuries of its history in the flickering reflections in the moat’s water. Parts of it are now dry, but it is easy to believe that it once swarmed with crocodiles. The fort was built by local chieftain Chinna Bomma Nayak in the 16th century, under the patronage of the Vijaynagara kings, and occupied by a succession of rulers. It became an English garrison in 1760, playing a crucial role in the fight against Tipu Sultan. After his death, his sons and daughters were imprisoned at the fort by the British. This eventually led to the bloody Vellore Mutiny in 1806, one of the first uprisings against British rule. The picturesque fort seems like an unlikely spot for such power struggles. Within the fort, there is a mosque, church, and the looming Jalakanteshwara Temple: Its name translates to “Lord Shiva residing in the water”. Massive gates leading into the courtyard are studded with lotus flowers cast in iron. The pillars have beautiful carvings of men on horseback, prancing elephants, and an assortment of deities. As I bent my head to enter the low-ceilinged inner sanctum, I felt I was entering a sacred cave with a powerful aura. Imagine my surprise when I learnt that this was once an arsenal storehouse. In one corner of the two courtyards, there is a well from which a secret passage is believed to lead to the Palar River, though it is too dark and deep to
highly recommend the rich milk dessert. Bombay Ananda Bhavan, which has branches across the city, specialises in making these sweets that cost `300-350 per kilogram. To try a unique local confection, have the petal-soft, pink cream buns at the local DVP Bakery that practically melt in your mouth (Long Bazaar Road, near Vellore Market).