Intelligent Travel

Next Great Travel Writer: The Real Mongolia

This week, Traveler editor in chief Keith Bellows and the "Next Great Travel Writer" contest winner Suzanne Roberts are visiting China and Mongolia, and they're writing about their experiences for Intelligent Travel. Today's post is the first from Suzanne, and she writes of her search for the "Real Mongolia."

I began thinking about what it means to find the 'real' Mongolia when I realized a couple of days ago in Beijing that the 'real' Beijing is both the glass windowed high-rises and stylish shops and the winding alleyways of the hutongs, where the boxer-clad denizens ride rusty bicycles past vendors displaying plastic bins of quivering prawns, green snails, and fish still flopping. Both are the 'real' Beijing and contribute to the character of the city. I arrived to Mongolia wondering: What constitutes the 'real' Mongolia?

Before leaving for Mongolia, I imagined green hills sprinkled with the traditional tent-like houses called gers and horse-riding nomads tending their flocks. From the plane, I did see herders moving sheep, green hills, and the small round gers on the hillsides. But as we approach the city of Ulaanbaatar,  a patchwork of Soviet square concrete-block buildings, glass high-rises, and construction cranes are scattered across the skyline. As it turns out, the 'real' Mongolia is both country and city, nomads and skyscrapers.

Our hotel hints at this Russian influence with its sparkling chandeliers juxtaposed against the shabby gray carpeting and concrete walls. My enormous but spartan room overlooks a statue of Lenin. Keith and I leave the hotel and wander around the city.

Plan My Trip! Seattle and San Francisco

Ok readers, here comes a challenge. We at Traveler make a living telling people where to go and what to do when visiting new places. But we also know that the real essence of great travel is having knowledgeable locals tell you where to go. So I'm turning the tables a bit and asking you, our readers, to help me plan my upcoming trip to Seattle and San Francisco. What are the local haunts that a typical tourist would miss? The favorite neighborhood joints, the outstanding yet overlooked museums, the things that locals do on a Saturday instead of checking out the sites? I want to know.

This will be a reader-generated trip. You guys get to decide where I'll go and here's the deal: I want you to show me. I'm going to be in Seattle the weekend of July 18th, and in San Francisco the weekend of the 25th, and I'll be blogging while I'm gone. I'll have my video camera too, and I'd love not only meet our readers, but introduce them to the rest of you. So leave your suggestions for favorite places in the comments below, and if you're up for being a tour guide, email me so you can show me a slice of your town.

Photos: Seattle by Rich Frishman; San Francisco, by Charles O'Rear/Corbis

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Next Great Travel Writer: Day Two in Beijing

Traveler Editor in Chief Keith Bellows and the "Next Great Travel Writer" contest winner Suzanne Roberts are currently on their way to Mongolia. They'll be blogging about their experiences, and today Keith tells us a bit more about his favorite spots in Beijing...

Ninety minutes at the Great Wall of China leaves me breathless. After an up and down hike taken under unremittingly overcast skies, the smog is back after yesterday's hiatus and so is the gridlock. The Wall is engulfed in tourists, a surging, smoking, ill-mannered melee that clogs the ancient ramparts that once repulsed Mongol hordes but now, frankly, are painfully overrun. Do I regret coming? Not at all—filter out the human stampede, and the landmark remains stupefyingly impressive—and I see but a smidgen of its 4,000-plus miles.

After a stop at a jade shop that gives me sticker shock (and where I learn that I was born under the sign of the rabbit and so exhibit great wisdom) we crawl back into the city at a pace that approximates that of navigating a crowded parking lot.

Beijing is back to normal.

Before dinner, I flip through the China Daily (“I hope that isn’t the only paper you read,” a Beijinger has warned me. “It will give you only the good news).  Still, I learn that the Bible will be distributed free throughout the Games (there were rumors that China would break rank with tradition); that two women claiming the same dead husband are suing his company for death benefits; that the health of residents in Wuhan is being threatened by a surge in the yellow weasel population; that police officers in Nanning arrested a man who walked the city’s streets nude for three hours to retire a gambling debt; and that a 55-year-old Kaili farmer recently graduated from primary school after six years of study. Important stuff.

The real shocker—in a meaty business page section on China’s emerging green initiatives—is word that Shanghai’s 80-year-old Jin Jiang Hotel is going eco (last year it claims to have saved 202.8 tons of oil, 1.54 million kwh of electricity, 25,558 tons of water, and 2.07 million Yuan with its “Green Hotel Program”). This is an example of China’s effort at eco sensitivity. It aims to decrease energy use in new buildings by 65 percent before 2020 (by 2015 half of the world’s new building construction will occur in China, according to the World Bank; over the next 20 years, say McKinsey Global Institute predictions, the country will construct up to 50,000 new skyscrapers).

Next Great Travel Writer: Arriving in Beijing

Last year, National Geographic Traveler and tour company Travcoa partnered to host the "Next Great Travel Writer" essay contest. The winner, Suzanne Roberts, won a trip to Mongolia with Traveler Editor in Chief Keith Bellows, and the two have just begun their journey. They'll be sending us dispatches from the road while they're gone, and making us jealous in the process... Today's post comes from Keith Bellows, the ultimate Traveler himself.

Full disclosure: I’m routing through Beijing and headed to Mongolia as part of a tour group. This is decidedly strange for me—as editor of National Geographic Traveler I’m used to traveling incognito, usually alone, and completely free to discover places on my own. Going in a group with much of my route preordained is not how I normally make my way around the world. But more than a year ago Traveler and Travcoa, a global travel operator, partnered on a contest to pick the next great travel writer. The winner was Suzanne Roberts, who is studying for a doctorate in creative writing at the University of Reno-Nevada. My assignment: to go into the field with her to offer support and coaching. Her assignment: to write an article about the experience that we’ll run on our website.

It’s just under a month until the Olympics. I’m riding in from the “old” airport (not T3, Beijing’s newest and the world’s largest) after a 14-hour flight from Newark. Clearing customs was easier than getting money from an ATM machine. My baggage made the carousel before I did. The airport was virtually deserted. The squeaky clean thruway from the airport seems swept of traffic and the torrential rains from day before have left the sky uncharacteristically clear blue and smog free. This is not the dingy, auto-clogged Beijing I had encountered when I was here last October.

Bug-Eyed in New Orleans

We're sorry to bug you, but contributing Editor Andrew Nelson recently ventured to the new insect museum in New Orleans and we thought you'd be interesting in hearing the buzz.*

The Crescent City's Audubon Institute (the folks who run the zoo and the aquarium) opened a new museum on June 13 on the edge of the French Quarter that is all about the creepy crawlies (the six-legged varieties; the two-legged ones remain on Bourbon Street). The family-friendly Audubon Insectarium, housed on Canal Street in the pre-Civil War U.S. Custom House, features an array of whiz-bang exhibits that bring the world of insects to life.

Mosquitoes, stag beetles, leaf-cutter ants and a butterfly room featuring a humid Japanese garden and koi pond are some of the highlighted displays. The entire exhibit is designed to be great for kids, though with a slightly naughty sense of humor that adults will enjoy as well (the dung beetle display is right by the bathrooms, for example).

After the jump:  Roach immersion therapy

Carbs, Conversation, and Fancy Footwork

Editorial Projects Director Lynn Ackerson coordinates the Photo Seminars for Traveler, which means she's jet-setting most weekends to host our photography workshops in cities across the country. But just because she's working doesn't mean she can't have a bit of fun. She shares her favorite spot from a recent visit to Minneapolis.  

Sunday night is tango night at the Loring Pasta Bar in Minneapolis. What could be more fun than downing some pasta and then dancing it off? Since my job at Traveler keeps me on the road nearly every weekend, I try to find a surprise of a place to check out in each city I visit and Loring has become my Minneapolis favorite. Opened by Jason McLean in 2001 in the revitalized Dinkytown neighborhood -- a 'hood filled with funky, eclectic shops – the easily accessible location and reasonably priced menu draws locals and tourists alike. 

While the outdoor dining area is relaxing and spacious, the real enjoyment of visiting the Loring Pasta Bar is the imaginative decor inside, €”it'€™s a little like entering an Alice in Wonderland production. The recycled brick walls twist and turn in improbable curves that keep opening into new spaces. Near the entrance, a guardian eye watches over patrons at the bar while they enjoy a wide selection of boutique beers, good wine, or more fast-acting imbibables, and munch on salsa Italiano with sourdough crostinis.  Swerve around a curved wall into the main dining room and more tempting smells waft out from the kitchen. Navigate the crowded room toward your table, where a sumptuous meal and great conversation await.

The Power of Voodoo, Times Two

It’s not every day you have to struggle to keep a story about doughnuts PG-13. But Voodoo Doughnut in Portland, Oregon–-fresh off opening a second store in the city called Voodoo Doughnut Too!–-thrives on providing people with new experiences. Why should writing about their new store be any different?

When I visited my friend in Portland last month, she took me to the much-famed original shop on SW 3rd avenue. I’d never heard of it before, so when we passed through the unassuming storefront and stood before the more-than-slightly suggestive menu, I was surprised to realize it isn’t just a doughnut shop. It’s a very, very dirty doughnut shop. One that you would (or should) be embarrassed to take your mother to.

Aside from doughnuts of various vulgar shapes and names, the shop offers perks that the usual chains just don’t have on the menu. Like Swahili lessons or legal weddings, and other events that didn’t make the cut here due to aforementioned efforts at prudence. The doughnuts are delicious and the atmosphere is electric, infused with a pride in creativity and craftsmanship lost on most franchised shops. Classic ingredients include toppings like Cap'n Crunch cereal, crushed Butterfingers, and strawberry Nesquik powder. One chocolate-flavored doughnut features a pink marshmallow coating with a "surprise" filling (!). I won’t disclose what I ordered because it might tarnish my virtuous image, but I can say that it was superb.

Last month, Voodoo owners and founders Kenneth "Cat Daddy" Pogson and Tres Shannon responded to Portland's growing demand and opened their second location at 1501 NE Davis. Voodoo Doughnut, Too! currently serves doughnuts 21 hours a day (closed between 3 and 6 a.m.), with plans to stay open 24 hours once a take-out window is installed. Cat Daddy recently shared with me his plans to host a wiffleball league and bike-in movies at the new locale, as well as flea markets and car shows in the fenced, 20,000-square foot parking lot.

Seeing the Maine Attraction

When I think of Maine, I first think of lobster. And cold. So when a ticket to Maine appeared in my inbox, courtesy of my mother, I wondered what could possibly be behind it. Turns out, Maine has a lot more to offer during the warmer months (particularly in the realm of lobster). Over the last weekend, I spent four wonderfully active days exploring Mount Desert Island and its tiny town of Bar Harbor.

The island's main draw is Acadia National Park, a land of rocky coastline and rounded mountains covered in pine forest. Most impressive was the park’s multi-generational appeal. There were smooth, level trails around ponds and meadows for people like my mother, who has an old ankle injury and has to take it easy. My teenage sister enjoyed biking on the 57 miles of old carriage roads built by J.D. Rockefeller Jr. for the glamorous families that vacationed at Bar Harbor during the Gilded Age. My friend Tyler and I took on the more challenging nature trails that carried us up and down mountains, through pine and birch forest, over scrubland, and across rocky, open balds. Several trails proved day-long endeavors, one with a vertical scramble down a 500-foot-high rock face (I was unprepared for this one but enjoyed it nonetheless).

Back to the lobster: While it is delicious and highly recommended, don’t let its celebrity status overshadow yet another (cheaper!) Maine delicacy: blueberries. Although the berry season was not yet upon us (they are usually harvested in August), canned or dried berries from last summer graced everything from ice cream to jam, the latter served alongside a regional puff-pastry specialty known as a “popover.” I ate the the little blue jewels of sweet, tart goodness every day, usually in pie form: Hiking. Pie. Biking. Pie. Shopping. Pie.

The Long Weekend: Asheville, North Carolina

NG Books Editorial Assistant Hunter Braithwaite has returned from a visit to Asheville, North Carolina and sends us his report.

Asheville is remote, peculiar, and self-obsessed—three of the main reasons that it deserves your attention. Having heard great things about the town, my girlfriend and I were excited to use the excuse of a friend’s wedding to discover this oddity. An unmistakably green outpost in the Great Smokies, Asheville is so walkable that you can traverse downtown in about 10 minutes. And compared to the esoteric nose-thumbing one encounters while visiting other “hip” locales, the people couldn’t be nicer. Over an organic, shade-grown, fairly-traded coffee at The Green Sage (which is powered by solar panels), I watched a man bum out a whole pack of cigarettes to a couple from out of town. “Take 'em all," he said. "I really need to cut back.”

Walking down Broadway, we stopped to look at a storefront full of stained glass. The owner of the store, a glass-artist named Steve, greeted us and asked us to come in. What followed was an hour and a half of New Age musing. Did you know that Asheville is built on the largest white quartz deposit in the state? And that white quartz is a crystal that helps with brain function? And, because the crystal is empowered by the magnetic field that grasps North Carolina from space, that the entire city of Asheville is in effect a giant mind? I didn’t either. We were told how to find four leaf clovers (hint: you have to "become" the clover. Steve did this by eating a bunch). We were told that there are no accidents, that we could just as easily have gone to the Outer Banks for the weekend, but fate brought us to Asheville. I nodded, then bought a dichroic-glass wine stopper for my mom. This was all while a pixie-bob kitten wrestled with our legs.

Secrets from the Alsace Wine Route: Clos St. Landelin

Continuing my coverage of the Alsace Wine Route, we now travel south near the village of Rouffach, population 4,500. Located south of Colmar, where many wine road tourists end their journeys, it's a good example of a more authentic Alsatian village, as it's been spared the dozens of postcard carts and souvenir shops. Highlights include its impressive 12th-century Notre Dame cathedral and the Chateau d'Isenbourg, which is now a premier hotel. Rouffach is one of the highest, sunniest, and driest areas in Alsace, protected by two Vosges mountains peaks. The consequentially unique soil makes for special wine grapes. And that brings me to one of the area's true gem: Clos St. Landelin.

Clos St. Landelin is owned by the Muré family, whose wine-growing heritage dates back to 1648. Today, there's a welcoming bright yellow and white building set in the middle of hilly rows of vines where you can sample to your heart's content. Crémant d'Alsace, Gewurztramier, Riesling, Pinot Blanc, Pinot Noir. During your tasting experience, you get to try two different wines from each grape variety: one produced by the Murés from grapes all around the Rouffach region, and one produced by the Murés with only the grapes from Clos St. Landelin's vines. Nearly every time, the homespun stuff won out.

Crowds are sparse (if not nonexistent), the family-run business greets you with layman's wine terms and plenty of refills, and the staff is pleased to give you a private tour of the cellar itself. One of the best things about Clos St. Landelin? Its wines are organic.