Wanderlust Sampler, Issue 232 (April/May)

THE WORLD’S MOST BEAUTIFUL LIBRARIES

Sounds of the USA European Capitals of Culture New Caledonia

Ballooning in Tanzania

India’s Golden Triangle Saskatchewan Albania

A new perspective

Television wildlife presenter Kate Humble takes to the skies on the first hot air balloon flight to cross Tanzania’s Serengeti National Park. But will the winds blow in her favour?

Words Kate Humble

Abeid Soka was born in a village in the Kilimanjaro Region, in the shadow of Tanzania’s highest and most famous peak. But it wasn’t this mountain that inspired his childhood dreams; it was the sight of planes flying over his home, bringing people from all over the world to visit his country.

Abeid had dreamt of being a pilot and of one day flying the planes that soared through the sky above his head. But it costs a lot of money to learn to fly a plane – money that his family didn’t have. Instead, Abeid went to guide school so that he could join the ranks of the wildlife guides that meet the passengers off the planes and take them on safari. He improved his English, learnt how to drive a 4WD and studied to identify Tanzania’s cornucopia of flora and fauna. He cut his teeth guiding in nearby Arusha

National Park, gaining the experience and expertise to take visitors around the larger national parks of Tarangire and Mwanza, before he finally earned his place among the elite guides in the Serengeti. And it was only then that he finally got to fly.

“Mohamed Masudi went to the US to become Tanzania’s first hot air balloon pilot in 2001”

Tony ran luxury camps and safaris.Tanzania was relatively unknown as a safari destination back then – and hot air ballooning was unheard of. Colin and Tony wanted to change that, and so they set about trying to get the licences and permissions to put their audacious scheme into practice.They held their nerve and were finally able to place an order for their first eight-passenger balloon.

The business was slow to take off.The Serengeti had none of the infrastructure or facilities for visitors that it has today, so tourists were few and far between. But by 2001, the pair were well enough established to be able to send one of the ground crew, Mohamed Masudi, to the United States to becomeTanzania’s very first hot air balloon pilot, unwittingly blazing a trail for a young wildlife guide called Abeid.

It is not uncommon for guides to be offered a place in a balloon when they bring their guests for a flight. That’s what had

Serengeti Balloon Safaris has been offering flights in the Serengeti since 1991, though the idea had first sparked seven years earlier when two men, Colin MacKinnon and Tony Pascoe, joined forces. Colin had been flying balloons in Kenya’s Masai Mara and ⊲

Sharing paradise

Exploring the customs of New Caledonia’s Kanak communities ensures that visitors see more than just a South Pacific idyll – they experience a unique culture that is now finding its voice

Words & photographs George Kipouros

Never in my life did I expect to be invited to a royal coronation, much less one taking place within a territory of the French Republic. France’s dalliance with a monarchy had come to a sharp end about 230 years ago – just ask Louis XVI. But it wasn’t European royalty I was looking forward to meeting as I boarded a boat headed to what is known as ‘the island closest to paradise’.

The road to paradise actually consisted of a ferry ride across the world’s largest lagoon to New Caledonia’s Isle of Pines, deep in the south-western Pacific Ocean. Even from the deck, the colours of the surrounding reef shone brightly. But as the island’s silhouette became clearer, my attention was drawn away from the UNESCO-listed waters to the shimmering landscape that lay ahead.

I’d been enchanted by South Pacific islands before, so I knew what to expect: every shade of blue imaginable, white-sand beaches, swaying coconut trees. But while the rocky interior of the Isle of Pines ranks high on the Jurassic Park scale of prehistoric wonder, the clue to what makes it different lies in its name.

The Cook pine tree (Araucaria columnaris) is endemic to New Caledonia and grows up to 60m tall.This lanky pine makes for a distinctive sight, with a slender, spire-like crown and a trunk that often tilts at strange angles. Scientists discovered a few years ago that wherever these trees are transplanted in the world, they will lean towards the equator.

“Above the palm trees rose what looked like an evergreen forest of natural skyscrapers”

The ferry dock at Kuto Bay lies off one of the island’s more magnificent beaches. Above its palm trees rose what looked like an evergreen forest of natural skyscrapers. Here, dozens of Cook pines had banded together to create a coastal scenery unlike any I’d seen before on a South Pacific island.

My local guide, Nelly, took in my astonishment at the landscape with curiosity. Slightly

thrown off by my faux-British accent, she explained that the trees were, in fact,“named after one of your people – Captain James Cook”.The same explorer had ‘discovered’ this archipelago in 1774, rechristening it New Caledonia after the Roman name given to the Scottish Highlands.Today it is a French overseas territory (or ‘collectivity’), though around 40% of the islands’ 270,000 inhabitants belong to the Indigenous Kanak group.

The majority of the Kunyiés – as the Isle of Pines’ 3,000 or so residents are known – are Kanaks, Nelly explained. “I will show you where and how we live,” she promised.

For my part, I was eager to understand more about the island’s Indigenous culture. I wanted to be prepared for the enthroning of the new Grand Chef (High Chief), which was planned for the following day, and there was plenty for me to learn.

REGAL MATTERS

My indoctrination in local culture began rather unexpectedly with a lesson in scouring the ground for ‘bulimes’, the endemic snails that are the pride of Kunyié cuisine.

“They are tastiest when filled with local herbs and spices,” explained Nelly. I couldn’t

help but point out the similarity with the French love of escargots. “We like a lot of the same things,” she told me with a knowing smile, “although ours are much tastier.”

Having collected an entire family of bulime snails, Nelly’s next lesson took the shape of a drive to an unusual monument.The statue of St Maurice was erected to commemorate the arrival of missionaries to the island, as well as the first Catholic service ever to take place here in 1848.Yet it offers a different narrative to the simple papering over of local beliefs.

“[The statue] brings Christianity together with the local Kanak belief system,” Nelly explained as we walked towards a Jesus-like monument surrounded by dozens of sculpted totem poles that showed an array of local spirits, animals and birds.“This is also where the Grand Chef’s hut was originally located,” she continued, explaining how history, faith and cultures had entwined down the years.

There were no other tourists at the site, though I was accompanied by a good dozen oversized geckos. The island is home to the largest gecko species in the world, the endemic Rhacodactylus leachianus. I thought it resembled a mini Komodo dragon, though I was assured its diet was far more benign.

Nevertheless, I was curious as to why there were so few other human visitors here.

“The previous chief was vehemently against cruise ships stopping at the island, so we only get visitors who stay overnight or on short trips from Nouméa,” Nelly explained.

“Surely that’s better than being swamped with hordes of day-trippers,” I proffered.

“Well, I think we could use a few more, as it’s been so difficult – especially during COVID, when we had no work at all,” she lamented. “Let’s see what the new Grand Chef thinks about all this.”

The day of the royal coronation had arrived and I was beaming with excitement at being able to attend this rare occasion. It had been two years since the death of the previous chief, and decades since the last ceremony had taken place here. Kanak chiefs and delegations of honour from all over New Caledonia had arrived on the island for the celebrations.The ensuing three-day festival was mostly centred around the main settlement of Vao and its imposing 19th-century church.

The open-air coronation ceremony was held under a makeshift marquee tent and was a rather understated event: equal parts

formal and familial. Most of it was performed in French, though it was heavily accompanied by Kanak rituals and customs.

I was kindly asked to refrain from sharing the ceremony details in writing. “Some things are unique to those who participate in this special moment,” explained Kenji, the son of the newly crowned Grand Chef Guillaume.The role itself is complementary to the democratic processes of the local government and is heavily based on custom, yet the holder does have significant influence on the wider community decisions.

After paying my respects to the new Grand Chef and his wife, I joined the hundred or so guests and a few French government officials in the main square ofVao, where the festivities were already in full swing. Kenji grinned with pride as he named the many dance troupes that had arrived from across New Caledonia for the ceremony.

“Many of these dances are only performed on the occasion of the enthroning of a new grand chef,” he remarked as we took in the dancers.Their ornate dresses were unmistakably Melanesian in design, with material features and patterns I had only previously seen in neighbouringVanuatu and Fiji.

Deep in the pines (far left to right) The fisherman’s ‘phantom dance’ is performed as part of the Isle of Pines’ enthronisation celebrations, which last for three days; the walk from the Piscine Naturelle (natural swimming pool) to the shores of Oro Bay is one of the most scenic strolls on the island and is lined with an honour guard of Cook pines that tower majestically above your head; the first speech of the newly crowned Grand Chef Guillaume is given to a gathering of guests and dignitaries on the Isle of Pines; (previous spread) the beach at Oro Bay is among the most peaceful escapes on the islands of New Caledonia

Return of the

BISON

Nearly 150 years after the Indigenous Peoples of Saskatchewan lost their land to a treaty, the return of the bison herds to the plains of Wanuskewin signals a new dawn, as their stories are finally told

Words Lyn Hughes

ÒO

ur ancestors are here. They’ll walk with us today,” said Darlene Brander of the Red Earth Cree Nation and CEO of Wanuskewin Heritage Park, where we were gathered. “You’re all here for a reason,” she added, looking at the assembled international visitors. It was only my first full day in Saskatchewan, but it had already been a stimulating and perplexing one.

I was in Saskatoon for a tourism conference; however, despite several visits to Canada, I realised that I knew very little about its past. On arrival, for example, visitors had been welcomed to ‘Treaty 6’. One journalist looked puzzled and turned to me: “What do they mean by that?” I couldn’t really answer.

After years spent exploring Canada’s wildernesses, this gap in knowledge was an open invitation to learn more about the country’s heritage. And I was in the perfect location. It is believed thatWanuskewin was a significant place for the Indigenous Peoples of the Northern Plains for over 6,000 years.

“This is because it had what humans needed: water, food, shelter, plus a lot of plants and wildlife,” said one of the guides showing me around. “People were drawn here because of all these things, but it also had something more. Something powerful.”

Situated above the Opimihaw Creek and the South Saskatchewan River,Wanuskewin isn’t as flat as the rest of the featureless prairie, and its folds hide secrets.The First Nations who used this land were migratory, staying a few weeks at a time, and maybe for the winter. One of theWanuskewin team,Andrew McDonald, told me that it is believed that this was Canada’s first Indigenous corridor –a well-trod throughway for nomadic peoples.

“There are lots of things here in close proximity: the most northerly medicine wheel in the world, petroglyphs, bison jumps. All are within a few minutes’ walk.This is not just where Cree came… the other Nations were here too. It was centrally located, and commerce would also have happened.”

The plains people relied heavily on bison to survive. In autumn, they would carry out a major push to get supplies for the winter.The hunters would find a herd, which might be of between 75 and 150 bison, mostly females and calves.They would then funnel them towards a drop, driving them over.The bison are front-heavy, so they can’t stop once they

“Each of the 15 poles that hold together a tipi is accompanied by a teaching”

go over a steep edge.They fall, breaking their necks or legs; thereafter, the hunters close in. These drops are known as ‘bison jumps’.

But by the late 19th century, the numbers of bison here had plummeted from 30 million to around 1,000. In fact, some claim they went down to just 325 individuals. For the people of the plains, who were so reliant on them, it meant the end of a way of life.

Wanuskewin has reintroduced bison to its grasslands, with 33 now grazing the prairies. I went to view them, and any question around whether they were thriving was answered when the dominant male mounted a female in front of me.The first calves have already been born, with more expected this year.

BUILDING A PARK

To find out more about the importance of the bison historically, I joined volunteer guide Jennie. But before we did anything else, she insisted that we cook bannocks over an open fire.This type of unleavened bread originated from Scotland; it was adopted by the First Nations after bison meat had become scarce and they had moved onto the reservations.

I had spotted a tipi behind us, and Jennie took the opportunity to give me a quick cultural lesson while our bannocks cooked. She explained that each of the 15 poles that held it together was accompanied by a teaching,which was given by the women because

Previous spread: Tourism Saskatchewan/Chris Hendrickson Photography; this spread: Arturo Torres; Tourism Saskatchewan

Life on the plains (left–right) The First Nations people of the plains lived in tipis – conical skin-and-frame dwellings – that stood strong against the winds that swept the grasslands and were easy to pack up and move; the bison at Wanuskewin are part of a rewilding programme that is aimed at not just re-establishing a herd within the park, but helping to restore the native grasses of the endangered prairies; Dakota Dunes Resort (see ‘Need to Know’) is owned by the Whitecap Dakota Nation and offers a range of cultural experiences that visitors can take part in to learn more about the Indigenous Peoples of Saskatchewan

Capitalising on

Culture

As cities in Estonia, Austria and Norway gear up for their year in the spotlight as European Capitals of Culture, we look at why they offer hope to us all

Words Emma Thomson

When Hegert Leidsalu, of the Tartu City Government office, woke up on a cold and snowy Wednesday morning, he’d only expected to be doing a little driving. Sixty minutes later, I, a complete stranger, was massaging ash into his pert naked buttocks, as if basting him for the oven. Were we mortified? Most definitely. But at least we could blame our pinkening cheeks on the heat as we sweated politely inside a traditional smoke sauna in Haanja.

This tiny village falls under one of 19 municipalities in southern Estonia that join the city of Tartu in celebrating its European Capital of Culture title in 2024. Nor are they alone. This year, the accolade is also being shared with two other cities: Bad Ischl in Austria and Bodø in northern Norway.

Draw lines between these three places and you have an almost perfect triangle spanning the length and breadth of Europe.Thousands of kilometres separate them, and yet, often unknowingly, common threads and themes tie them together. For example, none of

“In a sauna, everyone is naked – the same. It’s an equaliser. Whether you’re the mayor or a citizen, you come together”

the cities have kept the title for themselves. Instead, they’ve all included the surrounding towns and villages in sharing the ripples of change that are often brought about by the interest that the celebrations typically bring.

I spent three weeks visiting each one for their opening ceremony to see what lies in store for travellers, and what titles like this actually hope to achieve. If the aim of the European Commission grant is about seeing people and places in a new light, then basting Hegert’s bum had been an illuminating start.

GETTING ALL STEAMED UP

One inarguable thread connecting these three destinations is their sauna culture. In the heart of the Austrian town of Bad Ischl,

I found myself in the thermal spa Eurothermen, where I was joined by Marcus, a local man aiming to alleviate his arthritis.

“The sauna ceremony is deep in our culture,” he told me as a hefty gentleman swirled a towel around our heads, wafting blasts of hot air in our faces.

“Us Brits tend to err on the shy side of nudity,” I replied, flinching with the heat.

“No, no.You need to be completely naked to get everything out,” he rebuked, and I felt that there was a deeper meaning to his words, perhaps about the layers that we all wear.

Bad Ischl, south-east of Salzburg, is part of Austria’s Salzkammergut, a lake-studded ‘salt domain’ as seductive as anything in The Sound of Music . This spans the regions of Salzburg, Upper Austria and Steiermark, and was the private property of the Habsburgs for 650 years. Back then, nobody was allowed to enter or leave without a special permit or passport, and the dynasty used the nearby 7,000-year-old salt mine (the world’s oldest) at Hallstatt as their personal piggy bank. Because salt was the only means of preserving food back

Previous spread: Alamy; this spread: Alamy; Emma Thomson

then, this ‘white gold’ lined the Habsburg coffers until their demise in 1918.

The family was impossibly rich but had been plagued by misfortune. Sophie, the wife of Archduke Franz Karl Joseph, had suffered several miscarriages. So, when the desperate Archduke was told by doctors looking after the miners that inhaling the region’s salts was healing, he sent his wife to bathe in its waters. Whether it had an effect or not, she gave birth to the first of four sons, Franz Joseph, in 1830. He was nicknamed the ‘Salt Prince’, and Bad Ischl’s spa reputation was born.

Franz Joseph and his wife, Elizabeth, also later took up regular summer residence in Bad Ischl, at the Kaiservilla. Their influence attracted the great musicians, composers and artists of the day, transforming a rural town into a flamboyant beauty and noted spa escape. It’s this history that the artist Simone Barlian drew on when building Plateau Blo, a floating sauna that will rove around Lake Traunsee – Austria’s deepest – during the year-long Capital of Culture celebrations.

“Lakes link the region, so I wanted both a physical and metaphorical platform where the public could share open dialogue,” she said while standing next to the pewtercoloured water. “In a sauna, everyone is naked – the same. It’s an equaliser. And whether you’re the mayor or a citizen, you can come together and discuss the future.”

The idea of sauna as a meeting place had also been drilled into me at the UNESCO-listed smoke sauna that I’d shared with

Hegert in Estonia. There, on Mooska Farm, owner Eda Veeroja had told me: “In a sauna, the conscious world of understanding ends and the in-between world begins.” Immediately afterwards, she’d opened the door of the alder-wood cabin to reveal its innards, shadowed with soot, where I would be scrubbed with salt, ash and a gloop of local honey before being patted with birch branches.

“Here, it’s possible to come into contact with our ancestors and their wisdom,” Eda whispered. “They are a liminal space between the forest and the farmhouse –a place for healing, magic and communication. The country grannies and grandpas are bearers of these Indigenous ways of life.”

FROM ANCESTORS TO ALLIUMS

A day after my Estonian smoke sauna, I found myself tracing the frozen outline of nearby Lake Peipus, 40km from Tartu, on the border with Russia. Huddled along its shoreline are the communities of Varnja, Kasepää and Kolkja, whose clapboard houses, painted in weathered shades of green and yellow, are home to the Old Believers. These are the descendants of Orthodox Christians exiled from Russia in the 1600s after the Tsar unified the church and instilled traditions such as switching from two to three fingers when making the sign of the cross.The Old Believers refused to change, so were cast out.

In the 1930s, some 10,000 lived in Estonia; today, around 600 call these three villages home. They mostly keep to

In hot water (clockwise from far left) Hallstatt is such a beautiful town that China made an exact replica of it in Luoyang; Bad Ischl’s wealth of historical architecture comes from when this tiny spa town was a summer residence of the Habsburgs; sauna culture unites all of this year’s European Capitals of Culture; one of the tunnels that the prisoners of Austria’s Ebensee Concentration Camp were forced to dig; bundles of birch, known as vihta, are used to pat the bodies of visitors to Estonia’s Mooska Farm sauna; (previous spread) Tartu’s Town Hall Square readies for the celebrations to come

America’s story is written in song. It’s in the syrupy vocals of a gospel choir, in the twang of a banjo, in the beat of a powwow drum. Almost every popular music genre you can think of has US roots. The blues rose from the cotton fields of the South, born of African spirituals and the work songs sung by enslaved peoples. Jazz grew in New Orleans, hewn from the Afro and Caribbean rhythms played in Congo Square. House music burst from the warehouse clubs of Chicago, and country grew in

SOUNDS OF THE STATES

SOUNDS OF THE STATES

Listen up! We talk to those in the know about the iconic sites and venues that made US music history

Edited by Jacqui Agate

the green mountains of Appalachia.And long before European settlers arrived, Indigenous Peoples used music to tell stories of creation, migration and the land.The USA’s icons are too numerous to count: Otis Redding, Elvis Presley, Kurt Cobain, Dolly Parton… The country’s musical footprint continues to grow, too. Beyoncé just became the first Black woman to top Billboard’s Hot Country Songs chart, while the gig-tripping trend (combining concerts with travel) has fans crossing oceans to see megastars like Taylor Swift.

There are endless ways to tune into the USA’s ongoing soundtrack today. Live venues range from rickety juke joints swollen with the blues to epic arenas fit for the world’s musical heavyweights. Museums are filled with instruments and iconic memorabilia, and preserved studios mean you can walk in the footsteps of legends. To find the best ways to hear the sounds of the States, we spoke to expert locals in the USA’s top musical destinations. Lend us your ears and discover them for yourself.

Wendell Brunious on:

New Orleans jazz

“New Orleans was once one of the world’s busiest port cities, attracting people from countries such as France, Spain, Italy, the Philippines, Cuba and Mexico. Enslaved peoples from Africa were also brought here. And out of that variegated culture, jazz was born. It was influenced by classical and march music from Europe, and then later combined with African rhythms.

Blues, gospel, society music, African beats, marching music and ragtime are ever-present too. New Orleans’ music scene reflects the soul of its people and its ancestors.

Louis Armstrong (aka Satchmo) put jazz on the world stage, and we honour him everywhere here – there’s even a bronze statue of him in Louis Armstrong Park.There’s also the Satchmo Summer Fest at the New Orleans Jazz Museum every year in early August.The Jazz Museum is a special place, and we have such a rich history of music that its exhibitions change constantly.

Preservation Hall, in a historic French Quarter building, is the greatest place for live jazz.We play up front and there’s no ‘stage’ per se; it’s meant to be an intimate and collective gathering celebrating jazz. I would also pay a visit toThe Palm Court Jazz Café (French Quarter) and Snug Harbor Jazz Bistro (Faubourg Marigny).Then take a walk down Bourbon Street or Frenchmen Street, or visit Jackson Square. It’s difficult to hear bad music in New Orleans!”

Wendell Brunious is a jazz trumpeter and the musical director at Preservation Hall, New Orleans, Louisiana.

Zia McCabe on:

Rebels and rockers in Portland, Oregon

“What really makes Portland’s music scene unique is that it’s heavily DIY. My family was part of the Lewis and Clark Expedition in 1804. It wasn’t easy for them to get to the Pacific Northwest; the people who made it here were rugged individualists.That mentality remains today. We’re all just a bunch of pirates and adventurers; except now, we’re making music instead of exploring the world.

The identity of this town comes from these renegade artists, and the music you’ll hear is so eclectic. In terms of the venues I frequent, there’s Lollipop Shoppe, where you’ll find outsider music and heavy metal.There could even be a square-dancing night. Laurelthirst Pub is the first place that I played with The DandyWarhols; it’s a tiny bar geared towards alt-country. Mississippi Studios and the Alberta Street Pub are other great options.Then there are places like Bunk Bar – a sandwich shop by day that has great shows at night.

Pickathon, just outside town, is one of the coolest festivals in the world: you camp up in the woods and DJs play vinyl sets in between the bands performing. It’s zero waste, too.We’ve also got amazing record stores here – vinyl is alive and well. Music Millennium is the king of them all, then you have smaller ones like Jump Jump Music, which is mostly soul records.” Musician and Oregon native Zia McCabe plays keyboard for alt-rock band The DandyWarhols.

in 1961 to

Music is just a way of life (this page; clockwise from top) Pickathon festival is held at Pendarvis Farm (just outside Portland, Oregon) and tends to champion experimental performers such as Zambian psychedelic rock band WITCH (We Intend To Cause Havoc; pictured); Dandy Warhols musician Zia McCabe says that Portland’s musical energy is “bigger than ever”; jazz trumpeter Wendell Brunious plays at New Orleans’ Preservation Hall, which was founded

protect the tradition of jazz in the Big Easy and holds concerts on more than 360 nights of the year – so you’ll almost always be able to catch a show

Alamy; Caroline Brunious; Mike Morgan; Shutterstock ⊲

A real page-turner

Rio de Janeiro’s palatial Portuguese Royal Reading Room was established by immigrants from the old country yearning for a taste of home. But it is just one spectacular library among many, each with a tale to tell

The world’s most

Stories of intrigue and imagination abound in these incredible libraries, which range from royal follies to monastic marvels beautiful libraries

Compiled by Gareth Clark

Sainte-Geneviève Library, Paris, France

French architect Henri Labrouste believed that buildings should reflect their origins. So, in the mid-19th century, when he was asked to create the first major library in France attached to neither a palace, monastery or school, he turned to its history. Bolstered by booty following the Revolution and Napoleon’s campaigns, the collection –originally a monastic library dating from the ninth century – had long outgrown the former abbey building in which it was housed. Labrouste created a cathedral of learning influenced by the architecture of Rome and Florence, resulting in an eye-catching blend of industrial guts and neo-Gothic grandeur, every bit as impressive as the architect’s other Parisian masterwork, the National Library.Visit onWednesdays and Saturdays at 4pm for ‘Discovery’ tours (in French; booking required).

Bibliotheca Alexandrina, Alexandria, Egypt

Few haven’t heard of the Great Library of Alexandria, which was said to have contained all the wisdom of the ancient world. Likely established during Pharaoh Ptolemy I Soter’s reign (323–285 BC), its destruction robbed us of untold knowledge. However, more than 2,000 years after fires lit by Julius Caesar’s forces sparked its decline, a successor appeared. Inaugurated in 2009, the modern Bibliotheca Alexandrina is a story in itself.The curved facade is made from huge granite slabs etched with languages spanning some 10,000 years, and a tilted roof shades its collection of some eight million books.Though its design bears little resemblance to descriptions of its predecessor, the tiered reading room echoes the amphitheatres of the ancient world. Tours in English (Saturday–Thursday) tell the stories of both libraries.

Even in Prague, a city blessed with many beautiful buildings, few sights rival that of the Strahov Monastery, home to the largest monastic libary in Czechia. Sadly, today you can steal only a glimpse of its Baroque reading halls through their doors: access is restricted to maintain the atmospheric conditions needed to preserve their delicate frescoes. But you can get a feel for life in the monastery,

seeing the old scribing desks at which the monks used to fastidiously copy manuscripts, and the rotating wheels on which texts were compiled.The 18th-century Philosophical Hall has the grander artwork, but pay special attention to the cartouches – part of an early cataloguing system – above the shelves in the older Theological Hall, built in the 1670s.Tickets can be bought on the door.

Previous spread: Alamy; this spread: Alamy

Strahov Monastery Library, Prague, Czechia

The black-and-white-striped stonework of Siena Cathedral is instantly recognisable. Inside, its vaulted ceiling is speckled with golden stars. But the brightest star here is the adjoining Piccolomini Library, commissioned in 1492 to house the book collection of the 15th-century Pope Pius II.Though few of his original volumes remain here – aside from some extraor-

dinary illuminated manuscripts – Pinturicchio’s magnificent ten-fresco cycle depicting the life of the pontiff dazzles. It’s reputed to have been partly designed in the late 15th century by a young Raphael, who by tradition appears in one image. Pius II died of fever in 1464 while trying (and failing) to mount a crusade, but his story lives on in this incredible library.

Piccolomini Library, Siena, Italy

Trip planner: Austria

From the tip of Grossglockner to the cafés of Vienna, plot your perfect route through Austria’s cultured cities, vine-filled countryside and Alpine grandeur

Words Rudolf Abraham