Ode to Tasmania

It wasn't a trip that I thought I'd squeeze in this year, but a combination of cheap flights and the prospect of a lonely week home alone conspired to make it happen. Jittery with anticipation, I returned to Tasmania for the first time in just over 15 years.

But first, let me back up a bit. I caught the travel bug at an inappropriately young age. My sister and I were carted around on a lot of lengthy domestic roadtrips, usually to to visit one of my mother's seven siblings. A few of my uncles had the good grace to live outside the geographical confines of the Midwest, but unfortunately no one lived in Florida. 

In retrospect, I owe my mother a hearty thanks for bypassing Disney World and Florida altogether. I was in Orlando for a conference last year and it was hell on earth. I've been put out with Florida since the 2000 election anyway and the cross-section of humanity at the Orlando airport did little to raise my opinion of the place. In lieu of Disney, it was the likes of Mount Rushmore, the Alamo and countless day trips to Chicago. I am eternally thankful.

At age 16, I somehow managed to convince my mother that it would be an excellent idea to let me go to Australia for a summer and live with complete strangers. (I seem to remember pushing for Africa, but she put her foot down - as a nurse I think she was more willing to risk a tango with the wildlife in Oz than disease in Africa.)

Fifteen years later, it's still one of the best and most formative experiences of my life. Those complete strangers I lived with are five of my favorite people on the planet - all five of them hauled from around the world to attend our wedding in Chicago in 2011. Their car (Nia, Adrienne, just in case you are reading - I haven't crashed) is currently residing on our street Sydney. I'm so lucky to have been placed with such a generous and special family - so a huge part of my trip back last week was to catch up with some of the wonderful people I met 15 years ago. (Insert here massive thanks to Tanya and Shaylyn - tour guides and chauffeurs extraordinare!)

Okay, enough of the soppy stuff. Tasmania is seriously beautiful. Of course I remembered it as beautiful, but I had forgotten just how truly stunning it is. This is a special place. In fact, it's tempting to just quit writing and let my photos do the talking. For real.

My memories of Tasmania were a bit fragmented, there were things I remembered distinctly and other things I had no recollection of; but on the whole I am delighted to report that Tasmania seems (to me anyway) to have changed remarkably little. It is a working class island, dominated by forestry, fishing, mining and tourism. The buildings are tidy and utilitarian and to a city dweller even the larger towns feel distinctly rural. As someone who grew up in small-town, middle-America, this is a place where I feel very much at home.

Life moves a bit slower in Tassie and although distances are short, the roads are windy and narrow. It takes time to get around; but with virtually every hairpin turn offering another stunning vista across the sea, forest, rolling pasture or mountains - the long car rides don't bother me in the least (motion sickness aside).

Suffice it to say that this is a place worth making time for. I can't guarantee that you'll get four glorious days of unrelenting sunshine like I did, but it's still well-worth the trip. 

Baby (erm Scotland), Please Don't Go

Hiking in Glencoe, 2009

I'm just returned from a glorious 4-day stint in Tasmania, but more about that later. The upcoming Scottish independence referendum has been much on my mind lately. I lived in Scotland for four wet, windy, wonderful years and while in Tasmania this week, I was seeing Scotland at every turn.

Tasmania and Scotland share more in common than just good looks. Both are occasionally forgotten outposts of a larger nation. Tasmanians talk about the 'mainland' and 'mainlanders' much the way Scots frequently talk about their southern neighbors - with mingled disdain and reverence.

Both are places where it is truly possible to leave the hubbub of modern life behind. You can still hear snatches of Gaelic in the highlands and islands of Scotland and Tasmania has no international airport; it is the kind of place where you can still rock up to the airport just 15 minutes before departure.

These are all wonderful things; and Tasmanians and Scots alike are justifiably proud of the beautiful, unique and quirky place that they get to call home. But they are also an integral, and I dare say essential, part of a larger collective. Australia would not be Australia without Tasmania, much as I find a United Kingdom without Scotland unfathomable.

I find it upsetting enough that England, Scotland, Wales and N. Ireland maintain separate teams in the World Cup and Commonwealth Games (but not the Olympics - please someone explain?!?) And that is just sports that I don't even care about; I can't imagine how upset I'd be by an actual divorce.

I have sympathy for the independence movement - I don't like the Tories much either. But I can't help but feel that this is largely what this vote is about or has become about; it's an anti-Tory referendum. It feels a bit petulant, a lot of people south of the border don't like Cameron & Co. and still bear the same scars of Thatcherism.  The vision of an independent Scotland spun by the left-leaning, socially-minded Scottish intelligentsia (see wonderful article by Irvine Welsh) is alluring, if hopelessly romantic, overly optimistic and disconcertingly quiet on the issue of currency and economy.

St Andrews

And further, the values, hopes and ambitions espoused by the gentle left are hardly those of Alex Salmond and his cronies who will, in fact, inherit the throne (so to speak). The political difference between the entrenched Labour elite and Alex Salmond's SNP is nothing more than the location of an office in Westminster versus Edinburgh. In an independent Scotland the new politics will quickly become the old politics; Alex Salmond is already taking Rupert Murdoch's phone calls.

I'm not an economist (by any stretch) and I want to keep this light, but suffice it to say that the economic nirvana envisioned by the Yes Campaign will be difficult (impossible?) to achieve whilst tethered to the her majesty's pound and their Bank of England overlords.  Paul Krugman put it rather more eloquently (and in far more detail), but the gist of it was, currency control is everything, just think about the state of the Spanish economy . . .

We left Scotland just as Alex Salmond was becoming a household name - North and South of the border. I think he is smart, sly and has masterfully manipulated the unpopularity of a Tory government for his own political ends. I have no personal stake in this vote and we left Scotland nearly five years ago now; but aside from my home town, it is the place I've called home the longest.

My husband is a half-caste (firmly in the 'No' Camp and proud of his Scottish heritage) and we're both graduates of the University of St Andrews. At 601 years it is third oldest university in the English-speaking world and pre-dates the Union of the Crowns by nearly 200 years - clearly Scotland was doing pretty well before they wedded England and I see no reason to think that an independent Scotland would not eventually succeed. But, I do think the post-independence road will be much harder than many are prepared to admit.

Regardless of which way Scotland goes next week, I wish Scotland nothing but success and prosperity, but I do hope they decide to stay.

It finally happened.

So this finally happened. Emergency landing a plane over a couple bits of plastic and a cup of water seems a bit extreme to me (and the only people I really feel sorry for are the delayed fellow passengers of the offenders). I've written previously about how unreasonable people are when it comes to spending a few hours in the air and don't expect anything to change short of a mandatory dose of Ativan for all passengers before take-off.

I'm sure you'll be surprised to know that I have a strong opinion about the Knee Defender. I think it should be banned outright (and on most airlines it is). Most of us know what we are getting into when we fly and I think the Knee Defender is pathetically passive-aggressive and downright selfish.

I would also like to know why tall people get the monopoly on flight discomfort? I'm not particularly tall or large - I'm pretty much exactly average, so I accept that certain aspects of flying are more comfortable for me than others. But. I do get bad lower back pain - particularly when I stand or sit in the same place for long periods of time. On long-haul flights (and I do a lot of 8+ hour flights) I need to put my seat back just as much as the 6'4 guy behind me needs more leg room.

I think I'm a pretty conscientious flyer; I tend not to put my seat back on short-haul flights and I always put my seat up for meal service - but I do firmly believe that should I choose, the right to recline my seat is irrefutably included in the price of my ticket. From a purely logical stand-point, it is difficult to argue that an action that actively interferes with the design of someone else's seat trumps that of a person using their own seat as it was designed.

I'm not going to suggest that tall people either don't fly at all or fly business class; flying is frequently the only way to get from A to B and if flying business class was affordable, we'd all be doing it. I guess what I am trying to say is, can't we all keep our hands (and seats) to ourselves, have a drink and be miserable together?

Bros, Babes & Bondi

Seven months in Sydney and we finally hauled ourselves out to Bondi and the eastern beaches. Bondi is the city's most famous ocean-side beach and even in late winter it is a crowded crescent of sand where the bold and the beautiful come out to play.

This is where Australia's famous laid-back beach culture becomes a self-caricature. Bondi is the kind of place where bronzed bros strut around with gym towels draped casually around their necks as if a towel is a legitimate fashion accessory. Feel me, bro?

Smaller and quieter Bronte Beach

The setting is stunning; there is no denying that (although you might be distracted from the curvy coast by curves of another kind). The 10km coastal path that starts at Bondi and carries south to Coogee is a windy track that hugs the coast line; descending to small beaches and ascending to the tops of coastal cliffs along the way.

It's a well-trodden route, popular with tourists and locals alike. There's parents negotiating SUV-sized prams up and down the many sets of stairs; tourists stopping abruptly every three feet or so for yet another selfie; the doggy day-care folks wrangling packs of yappy dogs; the bewildered (us); and of course the fitness buffs.

Ocean swimming pool on Bondi-Coogee Coastal Path

Given the chaos on the path it strikes me as odd that this where anyone would choose to go for a run. The navigation required eliminates any chance of taking in the scenery and the stop-and-go nature of traffic on the path is enough to test the patience of a London bus driver.  It would also appear that lipstick, eye-liner and push-up bras are (rather impractically) all part of the workout uniform in this part of town. Maybe it's not really about the exercise after all; if you are young and fit, this is the place to see and be seen.

That said, it's all bit absurd, but harmless and the crowds start to thin once you hit Clovelly; a lovely spot with snorkeling and stunning views. For my part, I'm going to stick with Manly and the northern beaches where being over 30 isn't a crime and you can eat your fish and chips in peace without harsh looks of judgement.

Petty convenience, freedom & the welfare state

I can recall early trips abroad and tying myself up in knots over the lack of the petty conveniences that make up day-to-day life in America:

Haven't these people heard of air conditioning?
Can I get some ice please?
Whaddya mean everything isn't open 24 hours?

These are the things that you can hear travelling Americans complaining about loudly on golf courses around the world and these were the things that I missed when I first moved abroad too. However, I quickly discovered that in reality I had no idea what I'd actually been living without all those years. Ice in my drinks became irrelevant.

I moved abroad for graduate school, got an impractical masters degree from an excellent university, met a boy and never came home. Those first years of post-college adulthood are tough (wherever you are) - and I was woefully unprepared for them. Like many young graduates I didn't realise how much more actual experience is valued over where you went to college or what grades you received. I, inevitably, ended up in a string of jobs that I saw as 'beneath' me, but in retrospect provided exactly the experience that I needed.

It was hard - and it should be hard, but I also realised that so many of the things that my 20-something friends back in the US were losing sleep over, just weren't a problem for me. I had instant access to universal healthcare, that legendary European tax burden that Americans love to hate was actually less than it would have been in Illinois and I was accruing undreamed of amounts of paid vacation time.

I wasn't earning much more than minimum wage and my (now) husband was getting by on a PhD stipend, but it was enough to make ends meet.  We were eligible for a modest weekly tax-credit that made such a difference to us financially, that we're probably still feeling the ripple effects of it to this day. Demonize the welfare state all you want, but it helped to get us from struggling young graduates to productive, tax-paying members of society; seems like a pretty good return on investment to me.

Next week I commence year 10 as an expat and the things that I once missed about living in America now confound me. I get flustered with the military precision of the drive-thru; the amount of choice (and wastage) in grocery stores completely overwhelms me; and driving everywhere just leaves me in a semi-permanent state of carsickness.

We visit the US regularly and my (British) husband rarely fails to observe that you have the freedom to do everything in American except have fun. How true. You can take an assault rifle to the grocery store but can't legally enjoy a cold beer in the park on a sunny day.

Americans like to bang on about freedom ad nauseam, but in the UK and now Australia we are free to do so much more. We are free to take a (paid!) vacation; free to have a beer outside; free not to live in fear of guns in the wrong hands; free not to be denied healthcare because the freedom of a corporation trumps our own. We have free speech (but money is mercifully not free speech), free religion (or no religion), and certainly a free(er) press.

Don't get me wrong, there are many things I love about America and I believe that Americans are a genuinely smart, generous, an innovative bunch, that are trapped in a self-made political system that is held hostage by the highest bidder and lunatic fringe. I'm also not saying that everything in the UK or Australia is perfect; both countries currently have unpopular, centre-right governments with particularly bad education and environmental policies. Nowhere is perfect, but we are lucky enough to mostly (Malaysia was a bit of a black spot) live in places that match our values and priorities far better than America does or can at this point in time.

So sure, I will always believe that your first-world status should be called into question if you still have separate hot and cold water taps; but on the whole a few minor inconveniences are a small price to pay for the social safety net and well-being that comes with living in a society where those on the bottom - or those just starting out (like we were!) aren't left to flounder and struggle.  Ironically, living abroad is what has enabled me to achieve the so-called American Dream.

Why I don't want to live in America anymore

A question that I get asked a lot is some variation on: Do you miss living in America? Do you want to go back?

The answer is, no. And nothing sums up why better than this advertisement:




While I loathe everything about this commercial from his over-quaffed Aryan looks to his souless Pottery Barn house and smug (completely misguided) superiority; it does succinctly sum up exactly why I don't want to live in America any more.

America has a lot of seriously misguided priorities, but at the most fundamental, human level is the right to take some time off to go on a vacation (or staycation). Further, the insinuation that the rest of the world is lazy, is so ridiculous that I'm not even going to bother discussing it.

Here in Australia we are entitled to a legal minimum of 4 weeks + public holidays paid annual leave, although 5 weeks + public holidays is standard for the public sector. I know that entitlement in the US varies widely, but the fact that there is no legally-guaranteed minimum is enough to keep me out of the country. (Of course, Australia also has a minimum wage of $17.00+ an hour, legal entitlement to paid maternity leave, and a healthcare system where I don't lose sleep about bankruptcy over a broken leg.)

I personally know of American-based friends and family who have worked in high-level jobs requiring a minimum of a masters degree and they have had 1 vacation day per month that had to be taken within that month.  I've heard of people refused time off for their own wedding. I know that some employers in the US are more generous than others, but it is a cold, hard fact that we find it much more difficult to travel with or get visits from our US-based friends and family than their European and Australian counterparts. The Americans are squeezed for time down to the hour.

I have lived on the other side of the world for over 9 years, and I am certain that my generous paid-leave entitlements have left me with far more time to go home for long breaks and spend quality time with my family and friends - far more so than if I lived in California and had to squeeze in a flying visit to Illinois once a year.

I know that people have different priorities and if you want to work yourself into the ground and collect lots of stuff for the house that you're never in - to each their own. But study after study has clearly shown that workers with more paid time off are more productive, happier and more likely to stay in the job.

So, to the guy in the Cadillac ad - enjoy collecting your cookie-cutter junk, asshole, I'm going to go stop at the cafe, see the world and spend time with the people I care most about.

Oh, and thanks to excellent public transportation and the ability to walk places without having to cross a freeway, we don't need your Cadillac either.

N'est-ce pas?

My favorite things about living in Oz (so far)

Bacon. 

As an American who served 5 years time in the UK, I've been drawn into more than one streaky bacon (good) vs. back bacon (less good) debate. Australia has a rather elegant (and obvious) solution to this problem: just serve both together in a single, delicious, meaty, fatty strip about two feet long (very good).

Happy people.

Australians are so good-natured and cheerful that you'd be excused for wondering if they were all accustomed to a good morning slug of gin just to get the day off to the right start. Seriously, these people are friendly and happy to the point of suspicion. Australia is known as the Lucky Country - and with good reason - there's the great weather, a booming economy, fabulous food, drink and some of the best cities, beaches and scenery in the world. What's not to be happy about?

Wine.

While some wine aficionados might lament the lack of availability of Old World wines (or in my case the odd California Zinfandel), but I'm having a terrific time working my way through a cache of fabulous Antipodean vintages. I'm partial to Margaret River reds, Tassie pinots and of course Kiwi sauvignon blancs, but we've still got lots of sampling to do.

Roadtrips.

 

Australia has several world-class cities, but for me it is the long, lonely stretches in between that make Australia so alluring. This map shows all the major paved roads in a country the size of the continental USA. There are huge swathes inaccessible by anything but 4WD and dirt tracks - even the vast majority of the paved roads are single lane.

If you are thinking of hitting the tracks, just make sure you're properly stocked with water, petrol, satellite phone and that someone knows where you are. Also, don't watch the film Wolf Creek before you set off; bad things can happen out there.

Coffee culture.

Australians may love The Queen and playing cricket, but happily for me they've traded in tea for the good stuff. Try and get a bad cup of coffee in urban Australia - I dare you. Want to know exactly what's going on behind the cafe counter? Day-long barista courses are a popular past-time and come with an official certificate. Even McDonald's boasts 'barista' made coffee. Stroll down the high street of any trendy suburb and every second shop will be a cafe offering an overwhelming selection of beans and brews to choose from. Just make sure you study up before your order, asking for a filter coffee will get you a look of pity and despair - flat white and long black are the order of the day.

Aboriginal Art 

 

I could fill a house with this stuff - if only I could afford it. There's an almost unlimited amount of fantastic art out there, from modern Rothko-inspired paintings to traditional fine arts of paintings on bark with natural pigments.

The more you know about a particular piece, the more interesting it becomes. Aboriginal art is highly secretive - some paintings are desert maps of watering holes decipherable only to a particular community. Other paintings reflect aboriginal knowledge of local plants and animals.  It's fascinating and beautiful stuff - now we just need to save up.

Four skyscraper hacks

I'm not great with heights at the best of  times, so the promise of a little liquid lubrication is one of the best ways to get me to the top of scary tall buildings. Parting with a few pennies for some liquid courage is also a great way to dodge hefty admissions fees to popular sights; at worst you break even on the cost of a pint or cocktail each and sometimes you even come out a few bucks ahead - here are a few of our favorite skyscraper hacks.

Marina Bay Sands: Singapore

I'm going to say this outright (and I'm glad that I didn't know at the time of my visit) but the Marina Bay Sands is owned by mega-Republican donor and all-round geriatric-baddie, Sheldon Adelson. So should you chose to visit, just know where your money goes . . .

But if you must . . . the Marina Bay Sands is reportedly the most expensive building in the world - and it looks it; it was finished in 2010 at the cost $5.5 billion. I am not going to lie, it is impressive and virtually overnight has become Singapore's most iconic building.

So, if you've already slung a few Singapore Slings at Raffles but are still a bit thirsty and hankering for a bird's eye view of the city, you could do worse than heading to the rooftop bar Ku De Ta. Yes, a pint of Stella will set you back about $20 (welcome to Singapore!), but that beats the hell out of $23 just for the elevator ride to the observation deck. So hop the elevator to the bar (and don't pay the observation deck fee) - that way you can assuage your guilt of lining Sheldon Adelson's pockets with a cold beer while you enjoy the view.

John Hancock Building: Chicago

Chicago is famous for many things; political corruption, pizza, gangsters, bootlegging and its skyscrapers - yes, Chicago had them first (sorry NYC).  While The Sears, erm Willis Tower is the tallest (it gets you get to the 103rd floor) and has that terrifying little skybox, it does not have The Signature Lounge.  The Signature Lounge at John Hancock gets you nearly as high - to the 96th floor of this Michigan Avenue icon and like the Marina Bay Sands, you can pay for a lift to the top, or you can ride free and have a cocktail at the other end - I know which one I'd go for. The toughest decision is whether to go in the daytime and enjoy the fabulous views across Lake Michigan or at night to take in the city lights.

The Stratosphere: Las Vegas

Daredevils can bungee jump or $18 will get you to the observation deck; but (I guess you're seeing a pattern by now) we opted for the free ride and splurged on a post-nuptial glass of champagne. The Stratosphere isn't the trendiest or most popular hotel/casino in Vegas, but you'd be hard-pushed to find a better view.

View from KL Tower

KL Tower: Kuala Lumpur

The Petronas Towers rightfully hold the title of KL's most impressive - and tallest buildings; but the problem with visiting the Petronas Towers is that once you are in them, you can no longer see them! It's also worth mentioning that a visit to the Petronas Towers doesn't get you any higher than the skybridge, tickets are limited and queues long. So, cheat and make time for a visit to the KL Tower instead. It's recently gone under a much-needed renovation and the cost of the lunch buffet is nearly the same as a ticket to the observation deck. It may not be a free lunch, but it's close.

And if you're really just wanting to ogle the Petronas Towers and being sky-high isn't a top priority, then KL has plenty of rooftop bars with lower, but still spectacular views - there's the Skybar at Traders Hotel, Luna Bar at The Pacific Regency and several others. Bottoms up!

My Un-bucketlist

In a world with an overwhelming number of weird and wonderful places to go, you have to pick and choose, short-list and long-list. Our travel priorities shift based upon where we are, what we have time for, which flights go where and the weather. This will be controversial, but secure in the knowledge that we are never going to get everywhere, here are a five big ticket places that are on the back burner for us:

The Great Wall of China.

Yep, I said it. I'm sure it's amazing, but truthfully it is low on my list. Selfies on The Great Wall almost outnumber baby photos on my Facebook feed and the overall impression I get is that of overwhelming crowds. Crowds are an inevitable part of travel, but a big part of my travel philosophy is built around beating the crowds. And speaking of crowds, I know a bit about how crowd control works in Asia - there is none.

I'm willing to put in extreme effort to get to some places, especially if I'm going to be rewarded by having a place nearly to myself when I get there. I generally like my travel to have some element of relaxation to it and there isn't much about China that strikes me as relaxing. This doesn't mean that I have no interest in going to China, but when we get around to it, I suspect our priority will be a long train ride to Lhasa, not jostling with crowds on the Great Wall.

Disneyworld, Disneyland and any international permutation thereof.

Controversial, I know. This is completely a matter of personal taste, but if you ask me to do a word association with 'hell on earth' then Disneyworld with hordes of screaming children, stressed adults, unforgiving humidity, unrelenting expenses, unending lines and kitsch versions of foreign places where I'd much rather be is what immediately comes to mind.

There was a brief period of my life (around the age of 10) when I was certain that I was the only child in America denied the right of passage of a trip to Disneyworld; how quickly that feeling passed. I like Finding Nemo and Toy Story as much as the next person, but I'm fine with my Disney experience to be confined to the big screen. I was less than a mile from Disneyworld last summer and curiosity didn't even get the better of me; the cross-section of humanity I had witnessed at the Orlando Airport was all I needed to see.  Besides, I get dizzy just thinking about those teacups and one of the biggest perks of not having children is the ability to go on vacation without them.

The Pyramids.

Egypt is pretty high on our list, but our dream trip would bypass Cairo and the Pyramids altogether and start at Luxor with a slow trip down the Nile in a felucca to Abu Simbel. I've dealt with a lot of third world hassle in my day, but the tales that I've heard about touts and tourist harassment at the Pyramids is enough to make my head spin even from the comfort of my home.

I also prefer the ancient image of the Pyramids that I have in my head, perched on the edge of the Sahara with no evidence of modern life; not litter blowing past like tumbleweed and a KFC peeking out in the background.

New York City.

OK, so this is cheating a little bit; I've actually been to NYC, but it was brief, a long time ago and there was little to induce me to rush back. I can hear your sighs of disgust already, but bear with me. To an extent big cities are the same everywhere and I've done a lot of big cities in my day (I'm equally unimpressed with Singapore). So sure, Central Park is nice but so is Hyde Park in London; New York has some great buildings, but nowhere near the architectural heritage of Chicago; New York lacks a stunning geographical setting like Seattle or Sydney; New York has fabulous museums but how much better can you get than the Louvre or Hermitage? And is there any place on the planet more disappointing than Times Square? Seriously.

Niagara Falls.

Nothing against waterfalls, but I'm holding out for Iguasu or Victoria Falls instead. Niagara strikes me as that uniquely American type of tourist attraction where you can drive thru-McDonalds and the falls jointly and have the full viewing experience from the comfort of your car in five minutes or less. That just isn't for me. It's also just a long way from anywhere else of major interest; it seems like a lot of work for little reward. I know, I'm a snob. 

Okay folks, that is it. Feel free to set me straight.

                        

From Morocco to Myanmar: My travel top 12 (so far)

A question I get asked a lot is, 'where is your favorite place you've ever been?' Choosing just one is literally impossible, but I've managed to get it down to a dozen. This list is short on major sites and singular monuments and big on places and experiences. Sometimes it's the journey and not the destination that makes a trip.

This is a list that will almost certainly change over time, we have a lot of work to do in South America, Africa and right here in Australia. But at this moment in time, here are my top 12 (in no particular order):

1. Getting lost in Essaouira, Morocco

Essaouira was our penultimate stop on a long, hard journey through Morocco; a dot on the map that broke up a long bus ride between Agadir and Casablanca. I was 23 and this was my first encounter with the third world and the Islamic world (these were the days before Easy Jet was depositing 'stag do's' by the planeload in Marrakech).

With no male travel companion, we spent a lot of the trip seeking solace on the rooftop terraces of our riads to escape the steady stream of sexual slurs and general harassment that had trailed us through Fez and Marrakech. We dressed conservatively and it was the driest college 'spring break' trip this side of Cancun.

By the end of our journey we were feeling fairly defeated and then we alighted in Essaouria. We were among just a sprinkling of other tourists and for the first time in two weeks, left largely to our own devices. Free to stroll on the beach, wander the souk and browse without interference or a relentless sales pitch, it was the Morocco I had envisioned - beautiful, exotic, and hospitable.

2. Swan Lake at the Bolshoi, Moscow, Russia

When I was in kindergarten, each week a different student got to fill in a poster about themselves. You got to fill in things like your favorite food (spaghetti), favorite colour (blue) etc. One of the categories was 'three wishes' and I wrote that, 'I wish I lived in Russia.' It was 1988. I'm pretty sure my reasoning had more to do with ballerinas than Cold War politics, but I was positively smitten by Russia, even as a child.

Fast-forward to 2004 when I was on a college trip to Moscow and St Petersburg. One evening in Moscow, my professor knocked on my hotel room door and asked my roommate and I if we liked the ballet, I replied, 'we love the ballet'. Through some booking quirk our group had been split up and there were two premium, front row, box seats available and we were the chosen ones. Sipping champagne we watched the most famous ballet company in the world perform the most famous ballet in the world!

3. The Taj Mahal, Agra, India

India may have a bit of trouble taking care of its nice things, but this is not one of them. The Taj positively sparkles and it's hard to believe that it is pushing 400 years old; it looks like it was completed yesterday. I can't quite put my finger on why I'm so much more impressed by the Taj than the Eiffel Tower, Sydney Opera House or even Angkor Wat, but I think it has something to do with the size, the symmetry and scale. The Taj is one that you really need to see for yourself, photos just don't capture it.

4. London like a local

I was lucky enough to 'live' in London as a study abroad student and have been back many times since. Sure, it's crowded, expensive, a bit dowdy and the weather is terrible, but who cares. Londoners are terribly smug about being Londoners, but I probably would be too if I lived there. It is a city positively groaning under the weight of history. It has some of the best museums in the world (most of which are free), the food is far better than you think, and there is no shortage of excellent watering holes.

5. Inveraray, Scotland

In Scotland, if you tell a local that you are going to Inveraray at the weekend, their immediate reply will be, 'Oh, are you going to The George?' Aside from a stunning position on Loch Fyne (which in my humble opinion produces the world's best oysters) Inveraray boasts what must be one of the finest gastropubs in all of Scotland (it's a good thing too, because it's practically the only place in town.)

The George (which is also a hotel) shatters my rule about hotel restaurants generally being paragons of mediocrity. (Outside of Edinburgh) Scottish pubs frequently lack the charm of their English counterparts, but not the George. The building dates from 1770 and has been lovingly cared for and restored. There are over 100 malt whiskies to choose from (believe me, when Uncle Matt came to town we got through an impressive selection of them). There are cozy nooks, open fireplaces and a gorgeous conservatory. Sadly, it's been a few years since we were last there, but I still salivate at the thought of their local scallops with brown butter and roasted hazelnuts or their to-die-for sticky toffee pudding.

The flagship Loch Fyne restaurant is also just down the road, and they hold a fabulous little seafood festival every 'summer'. If I was made of time and money, I'd go every year.

6. The Grand Canyon, Arizona, USA

Anyone who has been will probably agree. Our first glimpse was the day after our emergency wedding in Vegas (short version, we needed to get married so I could get a residency visa in Malaysia). We approached from the North Rim, it was early autumn; cool, clear and the summertime crowds had largely dispersed. We spent two spellbound days photographing it from every vantage point we could find. Unfortunately, Ian had a broken foot, so we didn't get to do any serious hiking. I guess it means we'll have to go back.

7. Margaret River to Monkey Mia, Western Australia's Indian Ocean Coast

I have no doubt that this is a permanent fixture on the list. This stretch of coast is without question one of my favorite places on the planet. There's almost nothing (and no one) here and that is a huge part of its charm. The best part is, we haven't even covered half of it. Margaret River to Monkey Mia is only 1,125km (700 miles) of this magnificent stretch. From Monkey Mia, it's another 1,800km (1,120 miles) up to Broome and we can't wait to pick up where we left off.

8. Into the Heart of Borneo: Kuching, Malaysia

 

I'll be honest, when we arrived at Kuching's shiny new airport for the first time in 2011 and found ourselves in a tidy, orderly, little city and not some jungle-backwater (I'd been reading too much Conrad), I was a tiny bit put out. It certainly wasn't the image of Borneo that I had in my head, but I rallied and graciously accepted my unanticipated creature comforts. We dined at atmospheric little restaurants serving up local specialities like midin (an edible jungle fern) and drank ritzy cocktails made from local arak. There is a pleasant promenade along the riverfront, a quaint and crusty Victorian natural history museum and plenty of shops selling (not made in China) Dyak and Iban arts and crafts.

But in Kuching you can have your cake and eat it too. While the city is pleasantly civilised, the surrounding area allows you to sample Borneo's wild side. The orang-utans at Semmengoh Nature Reserve are real show-stoppers, but so too is Bako National Park. Bako is accessible only by boat (through crocodile-infested waters) and is home to rare proboscis monkeys and far, far too many kinds of snakes. There are extensive hikes to remote beaches and waterfalls and it is truly hotter than hell. There's also Kubah National Park, the Fairy Caves, Damai Beach and Mount Santubong. You can get all the jungle you require and then some.

9. Monet's Garden, Giverny, France

When I was a kid, my sister and I had a book called Linnea in Monet's Garden, if I think hard enough I can still recall specific passages and illustrations from the book. I loved it that much. So standing on the Japanese Bridge in Monet's Garden was kind of a big deal. The garden isn't overly landscaped; it's dense, almost shabby-chic and just as pretty as in the paintings.

10. The slow train: Yangon to Bagan, Myanmar

It was long, it was uncomfortable, and it was exactly as it was supposed to be. We trundled (and occasionally alarmingly rocked) along at an inconceivably slow pace, watching life in one of the world's least developed and most disconnected countries slide by. When things go according to plan, the journey takes about 17 hours to cover just under 400 miles. There's cold beer, no wifi, probably some of the safest food you'll eat, and definitely not the worst toilet you'll encounter (that's back at the station), so open the window wide, sit back and enjoy.

11. Sailing and snorkeling Komodo National Park, Indonesia

 

36 hours of sailing the Flores sea, snorkeling in pristine tropical waters, and spotting Komodo dragons (which are the closest thing you are ever going to see to a real life dinosaur). This is the only place on the planet you can spot these beasts and the scenery isn't bad either. Just make sure you have a good travel insurance policy and bring your own beer for the boat ride.

12. My (kind of) town, Chicago, USA

Despite a long tradition of megalomaniac mayors, Chicago is remarkably and refreshingly unpretentious. Chicago is one of the best looking cities in the world, but I think it looks particularly good in snow. A boozy brunch and a matinee at Second City is pretty much the perfect day out. Or maybe a leisurely stroll around the Art Institute and a ribeye the size of your face for dinner. Between London and Chicago, who needs New York?

Six month check-up

It's been almost six months exactly since we left Malaysia and moved to Australia. Before we left I did a blog post on the things that I would miss and the things that I would not. Turns out, that list was pretty much spot on. But here are a few things I overlooked:

Winter isn't so bad 

 

So I've done (more than) my fair share of complaining about the mild Australian winter, but I did overlook an upside. Winter cooking. A nice steak and ale pie just doesn't taste as good when it is hot outside. Fact.

I can haz warms 

 

On another wintry note, the cat loves us so much more when it's cold outside. Yes, we know she is just using us for our warms, we don't care. Back in the tropics, she her meows could roughly be translated as 'oi, geroff me.'

Clean and cold tap water is a real luxury. 

Just because the tap water in Kuala Lumpur won't kill you, that doesn't mean you want to drink it. After a big storm our taps would often run brown sludge. We even had to put a filter on our washing machine so our clothes didn't come out dirtier than they went in. Sydney water is awesome.

These boots were made for walkin'

 

Walking places. In KL to walk anywhere was to take your life into your hands, whether it was the open six-foot deep storm drains, broken and dilapidated sidewalks, piles of mystery rubble and garbage, drivers using pedestrians for target practice or all of the above. Sydney is a pedestrian dream. Well maintained bike and walking paths, functioning intersections, and drivers that give pedestrians the right-of-way. In Sydney, the biggest hazard is show-off fitness-buffs mowing down packs of tourists and small children jogging in Circular Quay.

Learning the lingo

Just because they officially speak English in Australia does not mean I understand everything that is said. Some Aussie accents are more impenetrable than a soused Scotsman at Hogmanay.  Throw in some of their bonkers slang to boot and I am at a complete, utter loss.  In Malaysia, as long as you understood 'can' and 'cannot' you could go far.

 Parking

We went to IKEA last weekend. IKEA is exactly the same every where in the world, a full-fledged, bonafide, three-ring circus. As we circled the parking garage like vultures I did fleetingly think, 'if we were in Malaysia, we could just abandon the car anywhere and get away with it.' Then I came to my senses.

Getting the same answer every time. 

 

When I was working through the final details of getting the cat admitted into Australia, I had to ring up the Department of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries as well as the Quarantine Centre a few times. When I did, something magical happened: if I asked both departments the same question, I received the same answer. Every. Single. Time. The answer didn't change depending upon who picked up the phone, or what day of the week it was or if there was a full moon. There was a single, correct answer - not four conflicting ones, each with kernel of truth.

Why studying abroad made me a better traveller

If you are anything like me, your formative independent travel expeditions were in college - an epic study abroad experience (probably in Europe) where you ticked off countries like vodka shots at a frat party. We all have to start somewhere and Europe is soft, safe (and spectacular) landing. You 'do' Paris in a weekend. Hell, you 'do' Western Europe in a week and return home an insufferable Europhile, 'I actually prefer my water without ice' and 'siestas are a basic human right').

Athens, 2003

Let me be clear, I don't think there is anything wrong with this. Every twenty-year-old is an idiot, and a few Old World ass-kickings make most of us better people. Study abroad (or a gap year) is like an accelerated maturation processor; go if you can. And if you've already been, you probably look back on it as fondly as I do. I've never met anyone who said, 'I really wish I didn't study abroad.'

Needless to say, I saw and did a lot; ticking off museums, churches and castles mostly out of genuine interest but a few out of obligation too. Mark Twain famously said, 'a classic is something everyone wants to have read but nobody wants to read' - the same could be said for a lot of big ticket tourist attractions (insert Stonehenge here).

In retrospect, I realised that the highlights of my European Odyssey were rarely the big ticket sites themselves, but the offbeat moments like convincing your travel companion to perform Janis Joplin covers at a crowded bar in Kinsale or late night absinthe shots with the captain and crew (from an airline that shall remain anonymous) in Prague. This is not a ground-breaking statement, (experienced travellers reading this are probably rolling their eyes).  But my point is that, while most travellers eventually work this out, it's usually a lesson we need to learn on our own. I'm just glad that I was able to learn it early on.

Venice, 2003

So after studying abroad (despite having no money or plans to go anywhere) I revised my travel strategy - I was no longer going to rush or box-tick. The world isn't a checklist and I decided immediately to do away with the 'been there done that' approach to travel.

Instead, I was going to be open to returning to places. Saying you've 'seen' France by spending a weekend in Paris is like saying you 'know' Jamaica by spending a week at Sandals. I've been to France at least five times and have barely scratched the surface. I've never even been south of Paris; I still have a lot of work to do.

I learned lots of other practical stuff too, like:

• less really is more when packing
• you don't save money staying at a cheap hotel in suburbia if you end up in a late night taxi 
• international flights before 8am are a terrible idea
• grid systems are a navigational blessing
• shared bathrooms are for chumps
• Scandinavians speak better English than you do

There is also a lot of stuff about fulfilment, personal growth and fostering independence, but that stuff has been covered ad nauseam. Studying abroad is like an intensive training course, where years' worth of experience and learning is crammed into a single semester. You learn how to be a smarter, safer, savvier traveller and have the time of your life doing it.

Travel Rewind: Glamping in North Thailand

Our last six months in Malaysia were pretty frenzied, so I didn't have the chance to blog about a few of our final adventures. Now settled (and unemployed) I've got ample time to retrace our steps. So, in January we squeezed in our fourth and final farewell journey to our northern neighbor, Thailand.

View down to one of the family cabins, from the tallest tree house, Tamarind

As you head north from Chiang Mai towards the Burmese border, you quickly leave behind the dusty plains and climb steadily into lush, green, hilly forests. I've blogged about Chiang Mai previously, and as a major tourist destination (and Thailand's second city) it's no surprise that surrounding hills are increasingly populated with small resorts, home-stays and elephant camps. I like Thailand's beaches and islands (almost) as much as the next guy, but it does make a nice change of scenery from Germans in speedos, if you know what  I mean.

Tamarind House

There's a lot of good stuff in the area, especially if you fancy a few days of peace and quiet. I stumbled upon a place called Rabeang Pasak Tree House Resort. Naturally it was the 'Tree House' part that caught my attention and a bit of research revealed, much to my delight, exactly what I had envisioned in my head - a small, picturesque spot in the hills with Swiss Family Robinson style tree houses.

At the time of our visit the resort was less than three years old, with just six cottage-style tree houses that sleep two (about $60 a night) and two larger family-size units (4+ people $100 a night) - all built by the owner 'Lee' a local and former architect.

Let me say here and now, that this place probably isn't for everyone. Think 'glamping' rather than five star resort territory. The cabins are basic, piled with old blankets and bargain basement mattresses, but cozy and complete with indoor plumbing and hot water (most of the time). Each tree house has unique features, such as outdoor showers or private balconies, some are ground level, others are in the treetops.

Bamboo House

The treetop houses are the most popular, but I can't recommend Bamboo House enough, it's ground level but has a private patio that backs onto a small stream and is very cozy - especially if you are visiting in the cooler winter months.

There is also a farm-like quality to the place and there are lots of animals about - dogs, chickens, piglets and cats. The owners do a terrific job of keeping the animals out of the eating areas and none of the animals are aggressive. A few of the more solicitous cats might try and find a warm spot with you at night but they quickly work out where they are welcome and where they are not.

Meals are simple but hearty Thai fare and there is a fridge full of cold Chang beer (the nearest market is 40km away, so if you're fussy or suffer allergies you need to let them know in advance).

The owners are helpful and friendly far beyond the call of duty and work really hard to get everyone in the tree house they've requested - we stayed three nights and ended up moving each night to try out new houses and accommodate others.  If you are going to be put over this, I'd recommend that you get over it ahead of time or find somewhere else to stay. The staff are helpful in moving your stuff and if you're dragging around massive suitcase full of high heels and handbags for every occasion- you've packed for the wrong vacation.

Once the sun goes down things wind down pretty quick. The area is replete with hiking trails and there are even a few bicycles free to use. Pack your hiking boots, load your Kindle up with reading material, kick back and enjoy. This is special spot.

Or how I learned to stop complaining and love the airline industry

I'm just going to say it: I've had it with the constant beating up on the airline industry. I'm a (very) frequent flyer and I'll be the first to admit, I don't enjoy the experience - not one bit of it from start to finish. It's time consuming, stressful, boring and inconvenient.  But frankly, I think that's a small price to pay for the overall convenience of being able to cross the planet in a single bound. And if that is something you are privileged enough to do, quit whining, I bet there are plenty of people who'd like to take your place. And believe me, I can recommend some less convenient and less comfortable alternatives for you

I know most air travel isn't people going on their dream vacation, it's often for mundane purposes such as work or business. But still, there's no reason to degenerate into a complete jackass just because you have to switch off your phone and sit still for a few hours. People exhibit a level of hatred for the airline industry that should be reserved for the likes of BP, Monsanto and Halliburton.

I think the most obnoxious thing about chronic 'complaners' (get it?) is the complete, utter, self-importance of it all. I've been drawn into more conversations than I'd care to admit, swapping notes and horror stories about how miserable flight X was. You know what I'm talking about, the 'conversation' where everyone is talking over each other, inserting more horrific indignities with each telling and no one hears a word of it. Something like the House of Commons at midday on a Wednesday.

Let's start with short-haul flights. 

Anything under three hours, I don't want to hear a single complaint. I don't care if they stuff you into an old cargo plane with chickens and goats. You can put up with almost anything for three hours. You certainly can survive in an upright seat without a bad meal and free booze. Shut up.

Onto long-haul flights

Face it, long-haul flights are as comfortable as they have ever been. If you haven't been on an Airbus A380 yet, you've got something to look forward to. Those bad-boys positively float and the toilets are roomier than your average hotel room in Singapore. Seriously. Pack your toys, sit down and behave yourself.

Why is it still seemingly acceptable to treat airline and airport staff so badly?

I was going through Heathrow a couple years ago and forgot about a water bottle in my camera bag. Rookie mistake, it just slipped my mind. I was held up for about 20 minutes while they carefully went through my bag, I was mildly irritated (with myself) but it's not like I had anywhere else to be.

The guy in front of me also got stopped. Caucasian, middle-aged, arrogant, American. He went nuclear. He was pulling out frequent flyer cards like they were meant to be some sort of special security pass and raging about the lost time and inconvenience (he was on my flight, there was ample time). I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this man probably wouldn't have acted like this in the security line at an embassy or consulate. Maybe he was just an asshole. But I've seen variations on this scenario play out repeatedly on the ground and in the air. Maybe they should start handing out Xanax and Adavan at the check-in counter.

Budget airlines

Budget airlines are called budget for a reason. It's not a conspiracy or a mean trick. If a 'complimentary' can of Coke and a pack of peanuts means that much to you, take your business elsewhere. I've flown with Virgin Australia, JetStar, Tiger, AirAsia, EasyJet, Frontier, BMIbaby, FlyBe, SpiceJet and (god forbid) Lion Air - they all do exactly what they say they will, get you from A to B with no frills whilst (fingers crossed) adhering to international safety standards. So sit back, enjoy the extra bulge in your wallet and forget about your 2 less inches of leg space.

Except RyanAir, it's always okay to complain about RyanAir.

All airlines are not created equal

All airlines are not created equal, just like restaurants and hotels. Most of us fly with whoever is cheapest or has the most convenient flight going to the right place at the right time. It's unfortunate that the service and amenities you get on a flight with United pale in comparison to Etihad or Cathay Pacific; but if you ended up on the United flight, please just accept this and move on. I can't think of another industry where the constant comparisons are so tiresome.  When was the last time someone talked your ear off about the relative merits of Hilton over Marriott?

Flying is public transportation

The days of flight being perceived as a 'luxurious' mode of travel are well and truly over. You aren't special or exclusive because you fly. The romance is dead. Flight has been thoroughly democratised. Think of it as riding the subway in the sky.

It's not you TripAdvisor, it's us

This rant has been a long time coming, but recently came to head as I've been planning a major family trip to Indonesia that needs to make six people happy. I reluctantly turned to TripAdvisor for inspiration; not because I inherently dislike TripAdvisor - it's a useful platform and it helps to keep the travel industry honest; the problem is the reviewers.

I've personally contributed several reviews to TripAdvisor and there are a lot of high quality reviews out there - but you need to settle down with glass of wine and prepare to do some work to find them. I long ago accepted that a brief glance at the overall rating is virtually useless. The frustrations listed here primarily relate to reviews I've encountered within Asia. I have no idea if TripAdvisor is more reliable if you're planning a trip to NYC.

Expectation management

 

Just because something is called 'Coconut Grove Holiday Beach Resort' does not necessarily mean that there are coconuts, a beach or it is even a resort. Far too often I stumble upon a review that says something like, 'we booked this resort because it was $10 a night, when we arrived it there was no AC and it was on a busy main road 10 minutes walk from the beach.'

Not $10 a night, but for a very reasonable $70 you can get a deluxe suite.

While I kind of sympathise, did you really think that $10 was going to get you the full resort experience including a swim-up bar and a spa? Nice things still cost more, even in Asia.

So the lesson here is, don't write a review focused entirely on your disappointment, tell me if it was any good relative to the kind of property it was realistically aspiring to be. For $10 a night, I want to know about the bed bug situation not the lack of concierge.

The inverse is true too, don't tell me you had a superb three course meal in an excellent restaurant owned by a celebrity chef but then you were put out when the bill topped $40.00 and give it a stingy 2 star review. I've never known a restaurant (or hotel) to refuse to let you view prices before agreeing to eat or stay in a place. If you ended up spending more than you wanted, that's on you. If the food or service was disappointing, then please tell me all about it.

Southeast Asia is still exceptionally good value, but it's not free and you shouldn't expect it to be.

The weather 

 

I am well aware of how truly devastating bad weather can be on vacation. On our first trip to Borneo, we planned to wrap up the trip with a few days at the beach. As we were driving to our resort, it was so dark, rainy and miserable at mid-day that the automatic streetlights switched on. This really took the shine off things.

But (and repeat this with me) the weather is not the fault of the hotel, resort etc. I've read far too many reviews about a hotel where the reviewer has given a place a really low score, only to then read something like, 'the hotel was really lovely and the staff friendly and helpful, but it rained the whole time.'

Odds are you took a gamble and came in the rainy season, didn't do your homework or just had bad luck. It's the tropics, it rains. Either way, it's both unhelpful and unfair to write a review like this. Stick to the (relevant) facts.

Beating up on local staff

 

This is the most cringe-worthy sin. PJ O'Rourke tells a story of being in South Africa in the late-80s, begging and pleading with the Afrikaans speaking waiter to please bring him a fork. He instead slowly amasses a large collection of drinking vessels and spoons. On the verge of losing his temper, O'Rourke finally has the good grace to eat his chicken with a spoon and leaves a massive tip for the beleaguered waiter.

(In full context this story is a more complex parable of South Africa at the end of Apartheid.) But there is another, less complex lesson to be taken here: if you are unable to communicate with the staff in a foreign country, that is your problem, not theirs. There's a big difference between a waiter mixing up your order because he/she can't understand you and actual bad service. Sometimes the two overlap to be sure. But, unless you're paying an extortionate sum of money to shield yourself from suffering any local inconvenience or  hassle by staying at the Ritz or Four Seasons, then cut your local staff some slack. You're on their turf and miscommunication is all part of the experience.

Expecting everything to be the same as at home

 

Americans are particularly guilty of this one. Again, it's all about the context. Being wildly disappointed by something because it is different to what you are used to might suggest you're better suited to armchair travel. A review that starts something like, 'X is like this at my favorite restaurant at home, but it's completely different here!' Look around Dorothy, you're not in Kansas anymore. Comparisons can be helpful, but what's that old saying about 'apples and oranges'?

Foreign food

 

I know everybody wants to be a 'foodie' and instagraming your every meal (I'm guilty) has become an international pastime, but if you are a fussy eater, please just confess. If you hate spicy food, just say so. Can't get into Asian cuisine? Fine. Terrified of spending your whole trip on the toilet and therefore feeling unadventurous? Just let us know a few things about you before you set yourself up as the next Anthony Bourdain.

A friend and I were in Hanoi last year and we wanted to find something special for our last night in Vietnam. For a little context - we were both adventurous eaters with guts of steel and had been blown away by the food in Vietnam thus far. We weren't hunting for a decent pizza to pull us through a final meal.

We skimmed TripAdvisor and found that the highest ranked restaurant in Hanoi was nearby and we went to check it out. For both of us the first red flag was that it was a hotel restaurant. A universal truth of international travel is that hotel restaurants are generally disappointing. It was tidy and soulless; the menu a nod to the white-people favorites of Vietnamese cuisine - spring rolls and pho - the rest was the usual generic Chinese food (think of it as going to Germany and ordering spaghetti bolognese or Ceasar salad.) It was inconceivable to us that this was the best Hanoi had to offer.

We bailed and had a few beers and settled into toddler-size plastic chairs in a gutter somewhere (much to the amusement of the locals) and gorged on whatever the locals were eating. Maybe the hotel restaurant really was great, we'll never know, but I've learned to trust my instincts and despite the glowing reviews it screamed mediocrity.

Read between the lines

 

This is one for those looking for helpful reviews. Newsflash: Everything you read on the internet isn't true. And most things you read on the internet should be taken with a pinch of salt. Before putting blind faith in the opinion of a complete stranger do a little detective work.

For instance, where are they from? When we lived in Malaysia, I was fully aware that the qualities I might look for in a hotel or resort might be completely different from a Malaysian. For example, one of the first things we tend to confirm is the availability of alcohol. I would view a tropical vacation without a few cold beers as genuinely devastating. A Malaysian might not even notice this.

Also, how old are they? Did they have children with them? What kind of budget are they on? Is this reviewer a notorious grump - is everything they've ever reviewed just a string of complaints? And most importantly, have they committed any of  the above sins?

Take those things into consideration and you'll have a lot more success in finding reviews that are helpful to your situation. (Trip Advisor does have reviewers create personal profiles, check people out, see if they are similar to you).

 Trust the pros (within reason)

 

I'm aware that people reviewing on TripAdvisor aren't professionals, but neither am I, I'm just asking for a little common sense and thoughtfulness. That's also why TripAdvisor is never going to put the likes of Lonely Planet and Rough Guides out of business. The big boys don't get it right every time - far from it (I distinctly remember binning a copy of Lonely Planet's Southwest England guide). But they usually do two very important things: they manage your expectations and keep things in context; that way when they do misfire, it's pretty easy to read between the lines.