New age luggage is just the ticket for business, pleasure travellers

Whether you’re travelling for business or pleasure, 19 Degree – the latest bespoke aluminum luggage collection from Tumi – is just the ticket. This unique range features a reinforced frame design, with two snap closures for carry-on bags and three snap closures for check-in bags.

This light-yet-sturdy collection comes in a wide selection of carry-on and check-in sizes, all with secure TSA locks. So whether you are travelling light or setting off on a long-haul flight, the 19 Degree is a perfect fit.

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Explore Paris by foot, by metro and by taxi

There are two ways to do Paris – the tourist way and the Parisian way – and they’re both equally worth doing.
There’s a good reason why crowds flock to the same old tourist spots – they’re awe-inspiring. A quarter of a billion people have been drawn to the Eiffel Tower since 1889 (current visitors number 7 million a year) simply because it’s such an astonishing feat of engineering. At the time of its construction, it was the tallest man-made structure in the world, standing at 324 metres tall and weighing 10,000 tonnes.

The Arc de Triomphe is a similarly breathtaking masterpiece and one that hits you right between the eyes the second you step out of the Charles de Gaulle Étoile Metro station. The world’s most magnificent monument to irony, it was built to celebrate the glorious homecoming of Napoleon’s Grande Armée – who were, at the time of commissioning, veterans of 128 victories. Unfortunately, Napoleon missed the grand unveiling in 1836, on the grounds that he had been defeated by Wellington in 1815 and was long dead.

And as for Notre Dame – well, you can’t go to Paris and not see it. A hand-carved Gothic Olympus, 182 years in the building, 21 hectares of forest went into creating the beams, while more than 1,300 lead tiles comprise its roof. Add to that its 1,840 organ pipes and its booming call-to-prayer courtesy of Quasimodo’s famous 13-tonne bell, it’s small wonder it attracts 13 million people a year.

Such is the city’s aura and history that even non-tourist Paris has become distinctly touristified. The alternative Left Bank dives in St Germain, the area where the impressionists and existentialists met for coffee and cheap meals, as well as the nicotine-encrusted Montmartre jazz bars where Hemingway et al ate and drank between the wars, have all become part of the gilded establishment and charge accordingly.

The former stomping ground of the penniless Picasso, Sartre and De Beauvoir, St Germain-des-Prés (along with the rest of the Rive Gauche) is now thoroughly gentrified. These famous old cafés charge as much as they dare from the many culture-hungry sightseers who want to sit on the same banquettes and look down the same boulevard as the classic artists of yesteryear.

Take a few turns down the quieter backstreets of St Germain and you’ll find Le Petit St Benoit, said to be one of the last reasonably–priced eateries in Paris. Reassuringly, it’s an elbows-in-the-ashtray, bill-scribbled-on-the-tablecloth, cash-only kind of place. Authentic pavement dining and as French as a camionneur (truck driver) strike, it happily – and with little discernible irony – serves frogs’ legs and éscargots, along with a range of homely French bistro classics, such as duck confit, unctuous, salted roast marrowbones and hearty stews. A whole meal – including wine – will cost you less than a sniff from the waiter at La Coupole.

For those who really want to do some serious damage to their wallet, the latter is regarded by some as the best restaurant in Paris (it’s not – Bofinger is), but even putting the food aside, it’s well worth a visit to this art deco temple for its remarkable interior décor. A coupole is a stained-glass dome and the restaurant that takes its name boasts a particularly splendid example, along with its famously mural-covered columns (painted by such notables as Chagall and Brancusi). Its oak panelling and soft lighting have barely changed since the days when it was the dining destination of choice for Camus, Man Ray, Matisse and co.

If you want a truly authentic place to eat, however, a genuinely elegant hidey-hole packed to the gills with pucker Parisians, take a walk along the Seine from the Grand Palais, pausing only for pre-prandial drinks in the betented terrace bar of the Palais de Tokyo – Monsieur Bleu – then walk round the corner to the Rue de la Manutention in the Trocadero region.
Next morning, take the Metro to Île de la Cité, the site of Notre Dame Cathedral. The queues are understandably long, with many keen to see its magnificent frescoed ceilings and kaleidoscopic windows, but it’s well worth the wait. To be honest, the longer you queue, the more time you have to admire its stupendous flying buttresses (built as an afterthought to stop the walls bursting out under the weight of the roof), not to mention the carved gargoyles and chimaeras, hugely decorative, but whose primary function is to aid water run-off.

From the Eastern tail of the Île de la Cité, stroll across the bridge to the Île de la St Louis, then wander down its central street of cafés and shops, all packed with gifts and crafty gewgaws. It’s a truly pleasant place to potter, even more so because, halfway down on the right, you’ll come across the finest ice cream shop in the world – Berthillon.

From the bottom of Ile de la Cite, hop over the bridge onto the Rive Droite (right bank) and take a stroll past Les Bouqinistes – the famous book stalls of the Seine. Although these second hand bookstalls have been here since the invention of printing back in the Middle Ages, business really took off during the French Revolution, a time when the mansions and châteaux of the Bourgeoisie were demolished and stripped of anything valuable. The political revolution became a cultural one as the books, which had once graced the shelves of the rich and powerful, arrived in the hands of the Proletariat.

As for where to stay, well, there are three real choices depending on your budget. For those who only want the best, it’s hard to beat the George V on Avenue George V, just off the Champs-Élysées. It’s ideally situated for those looking to take in the Arc de Triomphe, the Grand Palais and the Chaillot museums – the Palais de Tokyo, Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, Guimet, Musée de l’Homme, Cité d’Architecture. Here you will also find the avenue’s most famous shops – Louis Vuitton, Guerlain and Sephora.

Treat yourself and stay in true Louis XV-style luxury, attended to by a discrete army of staff, who all seem to appear just as it crosses your mind quite what you want. You pay for this privilege, of course – the simplest room here will set you back 1,000 a night, while a cold buffet breakfast for two costs 200. For those that can afford it, though, there’s nowhere better to stay.

For the more Bohemian types, without quite so much cash to burn, there’s the Hotel Artus on the Rue de Buci. Originally the Hotel Buci Latin, it’s slap bang in the funkiest furlong of St Germain, amid the lovely 6th arrondissement and surrounded by an embarrassment of beguiling markets, cool cafés, bars, boutiques and art galleries.

The hotel is of the designer boutique sort, complete with dark wood floors, marble bathrooms, designer furniture and walls painted in deep, bold colours. Each room features one different art object, each with its own unique back story. At one time, the door to each room had been painted by a different local artist, with a replica design on each key fob, allowing you to easily identify your room. Prices per night are around the 300 mark and it’s worth staying here just for the chance of encountering Sanjay, its unique concierge.

Finally, when it comes to getting around, do as the locals do and take the Metro or RER overland line. The trains are so fast, clean and efficient that – even from the airport – it’s really not worth taking a taxi, something that will take twice as long and cost you many times as much. Taking the Metro, you can travel from one end of Paris to the other in just half an hour for only three Euros. So save your money and treat yourself to one of the other delights that are so uniquely Parisian.

Park Lane Hong Kong refurbishes for tech-savvy travellers

To keep up with super-connected travellers, the Park Lane Hong Kong, a Pullman Hotel recently unveiled its refurbished executive rooms, executive lounge and function rooms.

All 68 executive rooms at the Park Lane, which is located in the heart of Causeway Bay, have been redesigned with wireless internet access, bed-side media hubs, high-definition TVs and DVD players.

The rooms have views of Victoria Harbour, Victoria Park and the city.

Also, to make life a little easier for executive travellers, guests enjoy exclusive check-in and check-out and complimentary use of the meeting room for two hours daily.

The hotel has been rolling out a series of renovations since 2013.

The Park Lane also has the SKYE bar on the 27th floor, with a swanky outdoor deck that features a futuristic illuminated bar and lounge chairs.

Cruise ships make history

History was made on 11 October when two massive cruise ships berthed at the Kai Tak Cruise Terminal at the same time.

The 138,000 tonne cruise ships, the Voyager of the Seas and the Mariner of the Seas, are owned by Royal Caribbean International and together were carrying 7,000 passengers arriving and departing Hong Kong. They are the first cruise ships of their size to dock at the terminal at the same time.

The Voyager of the Seas departed from Hong Kong on a 7-night trip to Sanya, Vietnam and Singapore and more than 3,000 people boarded at Kai Tak Cruise Terminal.

The Mariner of the Seas stayed in Hong Kong for one day before heading to Vietnam and Singapore.

Both vessels are among the top 10 largest cruise ships in the world with 15 decks and a rock-climbing wall, basketball court, ice-skating rink, mini-golf course, pools, bars, clubs, a casino and spa, among other facilities.

Irelanding

It’s an unwritten rule that any destination aiming to boost visitor numbers must, first and foremost, label itself as “friendly”. Who, after all, would holiday anywhere that billed itself as wilfully unfriendly?

Naturally, the Irish, ever eloquent, have to go several steps further – welcome, then, to Dublin: The City of a Thousand Welcomes. This is far more than just a slogan. Visitors to Dublin can actually register to be met by a local, a city resident who’ll take them out for a cup of tea or a pint, all the while generally filling them in on where to go and what to do. The scheme, completely free and now in its fifth year, is the perfect introduction to a capital that regularly takes home the honours in every international “best city” tourism awards going.

It’s even more impressive when you bear in mind that Dublin and Ireland had something of a chequered start to the 21st century. They roared into the millennium on the back of the Celtic Tiger boom years, then hit the skids after falling heavily into recession in 2008. Now, they’re decidedly on the way back, with Dublin once more the epitome of growth and vibrancy.

Ireland attracts more than eight million visitors each year, a feat made all the more remarkable when you bear in mind that the total population of the country is just over half that figure. A sizeable proportion of those tourists have Dublin (population, 500,000) on their must-visit list, and no wonder, given its history, culture, charm, creativity and hospitality. Or, as the Irish might say, just because the craic is so good.

A few years back, however, Dublin’s appeal seemed in danger of being overshadowed when it earned the rather dubious distinction of being the “stag and hen-do” capital of the world. You’ll still find raucous pre-nuptial shenanigans going on throughout the Temple Bar, but if you don’t fancy that – and who would? – it’s easy to side step. It would be a waste of a weekend, in more ways than one, if you didn’t.

The two halves of Dublin – North and South – are bisected by the River Liffey and are stitched together by 23 bridges in a variety of shapes and sizes. As any visitor is going to be crossing the river quite a bit, that’s probably just as well.

Dead centre – and a useful orienting point – is the famous O’Connell Bridge, a crossing that is as wide as it’s long. Just up from that is the photogenic, cast-iron pedestrian Ha’penny Bridge, so called because that’s what it used to cost to cross it.

More recently, the Samuel Beckett Bridge and the Rosie Hackett Bridge (named after the famous writer and prominent trade unionist, respectively) have swelled the number of crossing points, adding ever more fuel to the on-going debate about architectural variety and merit. Most tourists, however, favour the south – the Trinity College side – when it comes to hotels and walking.

Trinity College Green is the starting point for many visitors, with the university’s quads and campus embodying a rich academic tradition stretching back to 1592. Within its ancient library you will find the venerated Book of Kells, an illuminated manuscript Gospel written in Latin by Irish monks around 800AD. It’s one of Dublin’s most visited attractions.
If old books aren’t your thing, you may just want to sit in the beautiful college grounds and let the world pass you by. Such a sojourn will give you ample time to wonder at the staggering list of alumni who have passed through Trinity’s impressive portals over the years.

Many of these former students were writers, with Ireland (and Dublin in particular) boasting a remarkable literary tradition, one unparalleled for a population of its size. O’Casey, Wilde, Swift, Joyce, Behan, Toibin… the list is endless.

Quite how Ireland has managed to keep producing such brilliant writers is anybody’s guess, but no less than four Irish writers – George Bernard Shaw, W B Yeats, Samuel Beckett and Seamus Heaney – have won the Nobel Prize for Literature. It’s small wonder then that Dublin is a UNESCO-designated City Of Literature, one of only four in the world.

Naturally, the city plays up its literary heritage. Especially recommended are both the Dublin Writers’ Museum in Parnell Square and a trip out to Sandycove to visit the James Joyce Museum. The latter is housed in a former Martello Tower that was built to withstand invasion by Napoleon. Fittingly, it was also the setting for Ulysses, Joyce’s masterpiece.
Back in Dublin centre, it is worth signing up for a literature walking tour, true erudition on the hoof. There’s even a walking tour that combines literature and pubs – perhaps providing the elusive answer as to where many Irish writers found their inspiration.

Speaking of walking tours – and there are a surprising number on offer in the city – the 1916 Rebellion walking tour is particularly popular, not just because this year happens to be the centenary of the armed Easter rising against British rule. The key locations of the rebellion – the General Post Office building on O’Connell Street, Dublin Castle, City Hall, Liberty Hall, Kilmainham Gaol (where the leaders of the uprising were executed) – can be visited without the aid of a guide. Although if you really want to discover how the independent Irish state emerged from the ashes of this conflict, it’s best to take advantage of the truly enthralling guided tour.

Dublin also offers a number of locations where you can while away the hours in between the more energetic walking tours. Merrion Square – Oscar Wilde lived at 1 Merrion Square between 1855 and 1876 – is an especially fine example of a Georgian garden square, complete with its elegant town houses and greenery, as is the smaller Fitzwilliam Square.

In the same vein, no visit to Dublin would be complete without taking in the air at St Stephen’s Green, a 22-acre city centre park where you’ll find – among other notable features – an ornamental lake, a waterfall, a multitude of sculptures and a children’s playground. For an even more expansive green space, head for the 1,750 acres Phoenix Park with its 11-kilometre perimeter wall. As well as being home to a herd of wild fallow deer, the park is also site of Dublin Zoo, another major attraction for visitors.

Any introduction to Dublin’s eternal appeal, however, would be sorely lacking without any mention of the Black Stuff – Guinness, one of the most famous drinks in the world. It’s wholly remarkable that a branded product can be quite so synonymous with a city, a country and a culture in the way as this talismanic stout, first brewed in Dublin back in 1759, is. Forget that it’s now owned by a large multinational and is produced in 60 countries around the globe, just listen to the experts’ advice that a Dublin-drawn pint of Guinness tastes better than any served anywhere else in the world. They’re right.

Unsurprisingly, the Guinness Storehouse – the interactive visitor centre on the site of the original brewery in St James’ Gate – is one of the most popular destinations in the city. It tells the Guinness story over seven floors and is not to be missed.

Better still, though, just call into any Dublin pub – there’s over a thousand of them – order a pint, and get straight to the heart of the mystery. There’s an unmistakable ritual to pouring a Guinness – the shape of the glass, the dispensing angle, the 120-second two-part pour, the heaped creamy head on the pint…
Whether this is all science or marketing codswallop is immaterial when it tastes this good. The pubs you’ll visit will largely be dictated by your primary interests – literary, architectural, historical, sporting – or whichever is the nearest. It’s pretty guaranteed, though, whichever hostelry you end up in will have a story of its own to keep you entertained.

Certainly, if you’re after authenticity, put O’Donohue’s, McDaid’s, O’Neills, Mulligan’s and The Stag’s Head on your pub crawl to do list. Not however, necessarily, all on the same night.

All that drinking will inevitably make you hungry. Thankfully, there’s no shortage of eateries to help line your stomach. While the Temple Bar area is awash with takeaways, Dublin’s restaurant scene has experienced something of a revival in recent years with Michelin stars now abounding.

At the upper end of the scale, check out Chapter One or L’Ecrivain. If you’re after somewhere quirkier, wend your way to The Winding Stair. You’ll find it charming and truly laid back.

You’ll also have to try a number of Irish staples, most notably Boxty (potato cakes), Coddle (Irish hotpot) and Bacon and Cabbage at least once during your stay. Having said that, a killer Irish breakfast – bacon, sausage, eggs, black and white pudding, potatoes and soda bread – will keep you going all day. Perfect after a night on the Guinness.

Tempting as it is to spend all of your time in Dublin eating and drinking, there’s plenty of other things to see and do. The Irish love their sport so much that they’ve come up with team events you’ll only really see being played here. The GAA – Gaelic Athletic Association – presides over the exclusively Irish sports of hurling and Gaelic football. If you get an opportunity to see either (at the city’s 80,000 plus capacity Croke Park) you really shouldn’t turn it down.

Aside from sport, Dublin is rightly renowned for its music – not only of the traditional folk variety, but also in terms of more contemporary offerings, most notably U2, The Pogues, The Script and Thin Lizzy. Indeed older rockers are advised to head down to Grafton Street to have their photograph taken alongside the statue of the late Phil Lynott, Thin Lizzy’s legendary front man.

There’s also an Irish Rock N Roll Museum in Temple Bar, a dedicated U2 exhibit in the Little Museum of Dublin and any number of live concerts at venues large and small across the city.

If you really want the diddly, diddly of “traditional” Irish music – the fiddle, the guitar, the tin whistle, the bodhran and the accordion – just ask for directions to Temple Bar. In the words of the old Irish joke, you may well be told “I wouldn’t start from here”, but it’s worth persevering.

Go anytime of the year and you won’t be disappointed. If it rains, shelter in a pub. If you really want to see Dublin at its very best, then St Patrick’s Day (17 March) is the date to ring on your calendar, as is Bloomsday (16 June), named after Leopold Bloom, the central character in Ulysses. Whenever you go, though, you’ll find that the promise of the city of a thousand welcomes isn’t an empty marketing boast. Dublin really is a most welcome break.

Out of this world experience on Genting Dream

What do an astronaut, National Geographic photographer and a martial arts expert have in common? And, no, this isn’t a dirty joke. They are all part of Genting Hong Kong Dream Cruise’s new “Dreamscapes” programme.

The interactive guest activities and talks from award-winning National Geographic photographer Michael Yamashita; kung-fu star JuJu Chan, popularly known as the “female Bruce Lee”; and astronaut Dr Leroy Chiao, who is a former international space station commander and has logged 229 days in space, will be held on the company’s first cruise liner, Genting Dream.

The recently completed Genting Dream has 1,674 staterooms, with over 70 percent offering private balconies, plus 100 connecting rooms for families and groups. The cruise ship also has a butler service, 35 restaurants and bars and six water slides.

Dream Cruises, the first-ever Asian luxury cruise line, plans to cater to the large and rapidly growing high-end cruise market in China and Asia.

King and Country

For those unfamiliar with the expression, ‘flyover states’ is a disparaging term of employed by Big City Americans to dismiss that great swathe of country that is neither East nor West Coast. To be fair, glanced from 30,000 feet above, while sipping Chardonnay en route to Los Angeles or New York, this patchwork of farms and forests, hills and highways does, indeed, seem somewhat bland and anonymous. You ‘fly over’ because, the thinking goes, there’s really no reason to stop.

Those able to remove their head from the clouds, both literally and metaphorically, though, may well discover that Middle America is anything but middling. Seemingly every town, from the smallest collection of sun-bleached shacks to the largest landlocked metropolis, has something its citizens – at least -are proud of and rather keen to share.

For a starting point, you could choose almost anywhere with an airport. By and large, this means any town with a population slightly larger than 10. Simply pick up a hire car, choose a direction and drive until some rogue slice of arcane Americana catches your eye. You won’t have far to go.

Those with a taste for music, whiskey and racing – whether on hooves or with tyres – could do a lot worse than opt for the 500 miles from Memphis, Tennessee to Indianapolis, Indiana, taking in Nashville and Louisville on the way.

As with many Midwestern cities, Memphis has an air of faded glory. It is a place more concerned with its past than with its future – and more than happy to trade on its heritage to attract a visitor or two

The city is forever associated with two Kings. Back in 1953, Elvis, the still-undisputed King of Rock and Roll, cut his first record in the city. The venue, Sun Studio, just outside downtown, is still a working recording space, although it’s the steady outflow of Presley memorabilia that keeps it viable.

Elvis is not the only rock royalty the city has known. Johnny Cash, BB King, Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis all recorded there during its heyday
Despite the press of fans and the racks of mass-produced memories, the studio retains a degree of shabby magic. It’s not hard to imagine the young dreamers clutching guitars, all crammed around a microphone, hoping to be discovered.

Presley, unlike so many other small town boys made good. He also stayed loyal to Memphis, making it his home. His Graceland mansion, some 15 minutes’ drive from downtown, is every bit as overblown as Sun is intimate. Only the truest of Elvis fans, though, should endure its long queues and steep fees for a tour of what is, by modern standards, a rather modest suburban estate.

Today, Memphis’ live music scene revolves around the famous Beale Street, a thoroughfare lined with dozens of lively bars and clubs. While music of the 1950 and 60s provides the inspiration for most of the acts, there’s little of the pioneering spirit that once put Memphis on the map. The acts tend to stick to well known early rock, blues and country, rather than any new material.

Just 15 years after one King was discovered, another – Dr Martin Luther – met his demise. It was April 1968 when the civil rights leader was assassinated at a Memphis motel gunned down by opponents of his struggle to win equal rights for Americans of African descent.

The Lorraine Motel, along with the building across the road where the fatal shot was fired, now makes up the National Civil Rights Museum. Far from being mawkish, the Museum offers a window into the upheavals that gripped America – especially its southern states – during the later years of the 20th century.

Some 200 miles east, Nashville is even more of a music town, rightly renowned as the capital of every kind of music – both country and western. While Memphis’ glory days are clearly well behind it, Nashville’s musical influence is very much a thing of the present. Aspiring country stars still flock here in the hope of being discovered in this self-styled Music City.

While many Midwestern cities show signs of industrial decline, Nashville positively hums with business. Instead of mass producing corn or combined harvesters, though, its phonic factories churn out country music. There is, indeed, something of a production line feel to its massed ranks of musical
attractions. There are, however, a fair smattering of authentic gems mixed in among its many workaday strummers

Nashville is also home to the Grand Ole Opry, the longest running radio show in America. Today, it still adheres to its tried and tested formula of a live mingling of both established and aspiring artists in front an enthusiastic theatre audience.

If it’s the Opry that brings rising stars to a wider audience, The Blue Bird Café is where talent scouts and discerning country fans go in search of the Next Big Thing. With a capacity of just 90, this up close and personal venue has a fame that belies its size.

Taylor Swift, the global starlet and sauce bucket, was discovered here, while the Café remains a regular feature on Nashville, a hit ABC TV show. If time is limited, a better way to take in the city’s musical pulse is a stroll up Broadway, between 3rd and 5th Avenues.

Almost every property, on both sides of the road, plays live music from morning to night. While every Nashville resident has a different opinion about the best venue, Ripppy’s Bar and Grill and The Stage on Broadway are seldom omitted from most reputable must-see lists.

Moving on and you will soon encounter the towering white grandstands of Churchill Downs on the outskirts of Louisville. This is the site of the biggest fixture in the American horseracing calendar – the Kentucky Derby. Every year, Derby Day sees a sudden influx of America’s movers and shakers, all dressed up and vying to be picked by the circling TV crews.

Attending this annual exercise in ostentation requires substantial planning and deep pockets, with admission to the more select areas always heavily oversubscribed. The Downs also holds smaller racing events throughout the year, occasions that exert less pressure on both wallets and wardrobes.

A must for any visitor is the chance to sample a mint julep – a potent cocktail of sweet mint syrup and Kentucky’s famous bourbon whisky. Imbibers should avoid operating heavy machinery for the remainder of the day. Maybe the week.

Downtown Louisville, meanwhile, has a notably post-industrial feel. This is only enhanced by the sight of its late 19th and early 20th century architecture slowly being repurposed, inevitably transformed into trendy bars, restaurants or apartments.

Sports fans, however, should head for the Louisville Slugger Museum, home to the eponymous baseball bat, complete with a working factory and a potted history of its defining role in nurturing America’s favourite pastime. The city was also home to Muhammad Ali, the onetime world heavyweight boxing champion and noted civil rights activist. The Muhammad Ali Center is a celebration of the recently deceased star’s life, both as a boxer and a true cultural icon,

As the day grows longer, a good guide to Louisville nightlife is the ‘Urban Bourbon Trail’, a handy pocket guide to the numerous bourbon-serving establishments in the city centre. If a pub crawl seems too much effort, the Trail’s star attraction is the Seelbach Hotel, said to be F Scott Fitzgerald’s inspiration for the hotel in The Great Gatsby.

If the Trail whets your craving for all things bourbon, there are a number of working distilleries just a short distance outside Louisville. One of the most celebrated is the Buffalo Trace Distillery, set on the outskirts of Kentucky’s capital, Frankfort, and around an hour by car from Louisville.
Claiming to be ‘the world’s most award-winning distillery’, Buffalo Trace offers guided tours to visitors, detailing the company’s history and the traditional barrel aging techniques employed to produce its celebrated range of spirits and liqueurs. The heady aroma of hundreds of bourbon-filled raw oak barrels slowly mellowing in a century-old building is worth the trip on its own.

As a contrast to big city America, sleepy Frankfort offers a taste of small town southern charm. The grand 1910 Kentucky State Capitol building seems almost out of place on a Broadway lined with late western-style store fronts neatly sandwiching a road-level railway line. The town centre, though, is crammed with souvenir shops, cafés and restaurants, all winding towards the sleepy meander of a leafy Kentucky River.

With the closing lap to hand, the very name Indianapolis is synonymous with high speed car racing and the home of the world’s oldest purpose-built circuit. The Brickyard – as the 2.5 mile oval course is known – hosts the famous Indy 500, a 200-lap race for America’s answer to Formula 1 cars.
The Indy is America at its showiest, with size, speed and razzmatazz all dialled up to the maximum. Even before the engines fire up, it’s spectacular. The scale is staggering, with one end of the track almost invisible from the other.

The 500 is the world’s largest single-day spectator event, with 350,000 fans packing the vast open air grandstands around the course. The pre-race build up is also impressive, with stunt shows, parades and military fly-pasts keeping the spectators occupied.
The race itself is almost unbelievably fast. With its long straights and wide corners, cars average over 230mph. It takes quite a while for the eyes and brain to even begin to adjust to objects moving that quickly.

In truth, the crowds are too big for Indianapolis, with this city of some 850,000 annually swamped by the influx of race fans from around the world. Forward planning is essential, as even modest motels miles from the track sell out months in advance, despite charging many multiples of their usual price for the humblest of rooms. Five star city centre hotels can cost as much as the return air fare from Hong Kong.
With no public transport to the circuit, parking reservation is also essential and, again, arrangements should be made way in advance. Even with careful preparation, one should allow at least five hours to cover the few miles from downtown Indianapolis. Earplugs and sunscreen are also vital, as the cars are loud and there’s little shelter from the strong May sunshine.

Away from the race, downtown Indianapolis has a Gotham-like feel to its civic spaces, all flanked with a mixture of early 20th century pomp and glass towers. Today, though, much of the suburban sprawl shows clear signs of the city’s post-manufacturing economic decline.
For an alternative to the usual American city centre fare of steak houses, pizzerias and over-priced burger bars, The Rathskeller, on the edge of downtown is worth a visit. As a long established hangout for the city’s German immigrants, it offers authentic German cuisine and a long list of imported beers in the kind of cellar setting that could have been lifted straight from Bavaria.

Fishin’ Impossible

Gazing out across the still, silent North Sea from the raised timber decking of “Å”, an abruptly-named sea camp of in northern Norway, is quite an experience. It’s hard to believe you’re looking over the same patch of sea that Edgar Allen Poe, that master of the macabre, once described in Descent into the Maelstrom, his tale of shipwrecked horror.

That calm bay – flat as glass, reflecting the purples, reds and golds of the Arctic dawn sky – is a smiling assassin. On the surface, its betrays little of the savagery of its darker moods.

Å is set on the Southern tip of the Lofoten Archipelago, some 100 miles North of Iceland. Even this far above the Arctic Circle, the gulf stream takes the claws out of the weather, making it a breathtakingly lovely place to hike through untouched seams of nature or to kayak along vertical-sided fjords, killer whales watching from the troughs of the waves.

Outside the winter months, the area is rich in things to do and see. As a result, there’s a surprising number of hardy folk seeking a Scandinavianly-organised mini-adventure, all in a place where the history is just as rugged as the geography.

These Magic Islands are home to the world’s northernmost and most haunting surfing beaches. It was here – at Unstad beach – that the makers of E2K, that 1999 cult surf epic, found the perfect backdrop. Since then, it has been home to a growing and thriving surfer community.

It’s a paradise with jagged edges, however, and no less beautiful for that. In high summer, you can go scuba diving at midnight, while being screamed at by eagles and skuas. In the winter, guided off-piste skiing plunges you from the summit to sea level via one of the most dramatic powder-snow runs on the planet.

Back in 1941, its sheltered bays obscured the landing of British Commandos who – with the help of 52 men from the Norwegian Royal Navy – sank 18,000 tonnes of German shipping. They also captured an Enigma code machine with its cypher books, greatly abbreviating WW2.

The thing most people come here for, though, has been the backbone of the archipelago’s economy for the last 1000 years – fishing. These rich waters – from here to the breeding grounds in the Barents Sea -are stuffed with huge cod, halibut, coalfish and the fish further down the food chain that they, in turn, prey upon.

Travel here is not, however, package-hol straightforward. From Oslo, you may have to take a couple of jumps, the planes getting smaller and smaller the farther North you travel. SAS will take you as far as the sparse Northern football town of Bodø – make time here to take in a simple, but hugely enjoyable seafood supper in one of the harbourside restaurants – before then making your way back to Bodø airport and the final skip. Courtesy of Widerøe Airlines, this takes you across to Leknes, the main hub for the islands.

Bodø has just one check-in and a carousel not much longer than a supermarket checkout. At certain times of day, you may have the place to yourself, aside from the occasional visit of a surly staff member. Inevitably, he will check you in, bark instructions as to where you should wait for your plane and then disappear again.

Widerøe pilots, it seems, are made of sterner stuff than your average skybus driver. They all have the taut, lean, but careworn carriage and steely 1000-metre stare that comes from steering a 30-year-old De Havilland twin-prop through brooding, battleship-coloured murk to airports where nobody accepts “the weather” as an excuse for lateness. Outside the very busiest times, once you’ve climbed the steps, you’ll probably find you have all 37 seats to yourself for the 40 minute it will take you to reach Leknes.

Taxis queue for people here, rather than vice-versa. So, minutes after landing, you’ll find yourself burbling around the winding coastal roads – all roads are coastal here, apart from the short roads between the coasts. An hour or so later, you’re on the raised terraces of the camp in the aforementioned abruptly-named fishing village of Å.

The entire camp consists of two rows of ruddy-coloured wooden huts built on stilts over the sea, a short hike from the nearest village. This is actually a straight drag made up of a couple of stores, a smattering of fish and steak restaurants, some knitwear shops and a few bars. The very air of the place is frontierland-macho. Which, of course, it has to be in a place where the winter hits hard. In the fishing season, though, the temperature can be a mild(ish) four degrees, with the weak Arctic sun tempting a smattering of tiny flowers out of the bleak earth.

The landscape around the camp is of the lunar kind. The huts face out across a sheltered bay, while a ladder staircase gives you access to the jetties where six shiny, 23ft aluminium launches bob in readiness.

Most people travel here with groups of friends. If you don’t mind mucking in, though, the atmosphere is very welcoming for solo travellers. Shared food, whisky and the prospect of catching lots of big fish over the following few days brings out the bonhomie in most men. Before the end of the first vodka, you’ll find yourself joined to new multinational friends with hoops of steel.

Accommodation is of the “rough-luxe” type. Those seeking room service and a chocolate on the pillow need not apply. Each cabin has a simple, wooden kitchen and a seating area with a glass-covered map of the fishing grounds on the coffee table. There’s also a bathroom that’s slightly smaller than the average Norwegian man and two bedrooms, each with two wooden bunks.

It’s perfectly judged. You can’t help but smile as you sling your bag onto the top bunk, feeling like one of the Heroes of Telemark. Then, because you don’t know which huge, polar-necked neo-Viking you’ll be sharing your cabin with, you consider moving it to the bottom bunk before the next taxi arrives.

The fishing here is run by Nordic Sea Angling, and you’re in very good hands. You have a choice of either piloting your own boat, or hiring a guide – Nordic Sea Fishing’s giant and genial owner, Jimmy Andersson, or one of his team (who may be half your age, but will have the knowledge of generations on their shoulders) to skipper your boat and help you connect with the fish.

In both cases, you’ll be very well provided for. For unguided trips, the best fishing grounds are pre-plotted into the satnavs. All fishing and safety equipment is provided and the boats come fully fuelled.

There’s also a third option. Here you and your chums can take your own boat, but follow the guide boat to the best spots. Whether you follow them or fish with them, the young guides are worth every penny. Fresh-faced they may be, but they have seawater in their veins. They have travelled these waters for years and have a fistful of cod and halibut records between them to boot. If anyone can put you over the fish of a lifetime, they can.

When the first morning breaks – after man-sized sausage butties, and a visit to the quartermaster’s hut to be fitted into your matching red waterproof suits – you’ll be bounding across the ocean in one of a squadron of powerful aluminium motor launches. You can’t help but feel impossibly cool as you watch the engine shooting the wake out behind you, while the other boats fan-out on either side.

As for the fishing – if you’re looking to catch the fish of your life, Jimmy and his team will use their Scandinavian fish-whisperer instincts sense and their technology to help make your dream come true. Do as Jimmy tells you and you will catch big fish. And plenty of them.

In my case, Jimmy handed me a rod with a shocking pink rubber fish on the end of a line that was only slightly smaller than a fish I would be happy to catch back home. He lowered it into the water and mimed raising and lowering it as the method for attracting coalfish, a tumescently streamlined member of the cod family.

Seconds later, the rod tip touched the ocean and I found myself engaged in a wrestling match with the biggest fish I had ever hooked. Jimmy coaxed me through it. Heave the rod up, lower and wind. Keep winching, because if you stop, it’ll dive for the bottom and you have to start all over again. Half an hour later, I was releasing a 25lb coalfish back to its friends deep below, complete with the kind of smile you find on a teen boy walking home after becoming a man for the first time.

While you could spend the rest of the week doing this, but a day really takes it out of you. After hauling in thirty fish of a lifetime, you feel like you’ve been in a bar brawl.

Thankfully, well aware of this, Jimmy cleverly changes the game. The next day, you might fish for cod – brawny, beefy-lipped bruisers that fight like gypsies and swagger nonchalantly off as soon as the hook is removed.

Another day, you might hunt halibut. Fewer and further between, but even more rewarding. When you hook one, it feels something like pushing a car off a multi-storey car park and trying to reel it in. Tellingly, catching a 30-stone, two metre halibut is not at all uncommon.

When you’re too whacked to take on another big fish, they’ll take you for a gentler day of plaice fishing in a sheltered bay. They’ll still be the biggest plaice you’ve ever caught mind.

By the end of the week, you’ll be more tired than you’ve ever been, but very satisfied. Jimmy’s guides will help you fillet your fish into a hamper-sized polystyrene box and heave it into the camp’s walk-in freezer (the Norwegian government allows you to take 25kg of fish home with you).

When you get it home, the fish will still be the best you have ever tasted. Perhaps it’s because the fish we eat in most countries aren’t as big. Or maybe not as fresh. The cod and halibut you catch by rod and line in the North Sea, though, have a snow-white fillet steak texture.

Inevitably, you’ll shed a tear when you lift the last portion from the freezer, mentally pledging to yourself that you’ll be back in one of Nordic Sea Fishing’s camps as soon as you possibly can.

Nordic Sea Angling (www.nordic-sea-angling.se) runs deep sea fishing trips from four destinations in Norway – Havøysund, Nappstraumen and Å – and from one warm water base in Panama.

Bilbao Check-Ins

Bilbao’s Guggenheim Museum turns 20 next year. It is no exaggeration to say that this was the cultural landmark that truly put the Basque city on the world’s travel map. It’s an unlikely story – the tale of how the ultimate repository of contemporary art revived the fortunes of an area almost wholly synonymous with the post-industrial slump.

That sort of neat summation can be a little unfair, suggesting that Bilbao has nothing else to offer the traveller than Frank Geary’s architectural masterpiece. That view would be entirely wrong. There are, in fact, dozens of reasons to visit Bilbao – its cuisine, its coastline, its history and, above all, its clear sense of wonderment at just how it pulled itself up quite so dramatically by its bootlaces.

To truly understand it, though, Bilbao has to be seen in context. First of all, it’s not so much in Spain, as it is in the Basque Country (an area that has also co-opted a corner of Southwest France). They do things differently there.

Years of repression under General Franco failed to eradicate the region’s unique sense of identity. In fact, it served to reinforce it. Remarkably, when the Guggenheim was first planned, the development attracted opposition from staunch separatists. Back then, appealing to tourists was very low on the region’s priority list. Neither was it a must-visit destination for even the most intrepid traveller.

Over time, the respective popularity of travel destinations changes – Iran? Cambodia? Vietnam, even? – and now Bilbao attracts more than one million visitors each year, a figure three three times the size of its own population. Obviously, not all of them make the trip solely to see the Guggenheim – although it would be an odd visitor who declines the opportunity. It’s little wonder, then, that other faded urban centres around the world look at Bilbao with envious eyes, wondering just how it worked such transformative magic…

If your experience of Spain is strictly limited to the baked Mediterranean shores of Andalucía, then you may mistakenly assume your waterproofs will be surplus to requirements on any visit to the rugged northern coastline. This, though, is green Spain. We’re not talking conservation here, but rather celebrating the lush and verdant landscape that comes courtesy of its distinctly oceanic climate.

In keeping with a number of countries – Wales and China for example – you will also need to get used to the dual language road signs over here. Bilbao is actually Bilbo in Basque – a transition that will no doubt delight any Hobbit habitués in your retinue. These days, Basque is once again taught in schools but most conversations, especially with tourists, are conducted in Spanish or, better still, English.

As is only right and fitting, let’s get the Guggenheim out of the way before even considering what else is on offer. The building really is an architectural triumph, fusing titanium, glass and limestone into a bewitching cauldron of swirling edges and surfaces that defies a single interpretation. It is, however, popularly held to resemble a boat – given that it’s been shoe-horned into Bilbao’s once dilapidated port area, it’s a theory that clearly holds water.

While the art on display within stands comparison with the best on offer from any international gallery anywhere, it’s the exterior – entrance fee-free – that really stays in the memory. Take Jeff Koon’s Puppy – a 13-metre-tall living plant sculpture of a West Highland terrier. Or Anish Kapoor’s imposing Tall Tree & The Eye, a stainless steel and carbon monolith. Or – possibly the most eye-catching sculpture of them all – the nine-metre-tall Maman by Louise Bourgeois. Arachnophobes, however, may want to give this latter one something of a miss.

Kick-started by Geary’s vision, perhaps, art is now everywhere in the city – from the curved-glass Metro stations (designed by Sir Norman Foster) to Philippe Stark’s Azkuna Zentroa, a multi-purpose leisure complex fashioned from the remnants of what was a former wine warehouse.

It’s best to get your bearings by referencing the 165-metre high Iberdrola Tower, then stroll across the iconic Santiago Calatrava-designed Zubizuri (Basque for white bridge) spanning the Nervión River. The development, though, is never-ending, rolling out at a seemingly unrelenting pace. Next on the agenda for the city – and surely the perfect excuse for a subsequent revisit – is the late Zaha Hadid’s housing and workspace masterplan, an initiative designed to regenerate the central Zorrotzaurre peninsula.

As impressive as all of this modern architecture might be, Bilbao clearly cherishes its history, and there is no finer antidote to all of this steel and glass new build than a visit to its atmospheric Old Town (Casco Viejo), the place where it all began some 700 years ago. The city’s seven original streets – Las Siete Calles – are dominated by the 14th century Gothic Catedral de Santiago. Here it is all too easy for you to while away the hours shopping, drinking and checking out the various markets. The place to head to, though, is the Plaza Nueva, the large square at the heart of the Casco Viejo. Once there, surrounded by its array of bars, music and entertainment, you may never actually want to leave the place.

It is Bilbao’s very compactness that makes it the perfect city for touring on foot. Before setting out, you can get a good idea of the layout of the city by taking the funicular railway to the peak of Artxandako mountain. The entrance to the 100-year old funicular is just across the Zubizuri. It only takes three minutes to complete the ascent, but the panoramic views are perfect. From there, you can even pick out the Dona Casilda Iturrizar Park, complete with its ornamental duck pond.

Moving on to the food front and, while many people have sampled tapas, few have experienced Bilbao’s unique take on these savoury appetisers. Here’s your chance to treat yourself to pintxos (pinchos). These are not only bigger than tapas, they’re also considerably more elaborate.

“Pincho” literally means spike or thorn and here refers to the skewer that keeps these loaded snacks pinned together. The idea is to go from bar to bar, sampling one to two in each locale, all normally washed down with a glass of txakoli, a local sparkling wine. This is poured from a height – something requiring considerable skill – in order to ensure its characteristic fizz. In fact, to do it properly, you should really embark on a txikiteo – a pinxtos pub-crawl. Thankfully, there never seems to be any shortage of them to join.

You don’t have to restrict yourself to snacks, of course. The Basque country is an absolute foodies’ paradise, with numerous high-end restaurants to choose from. Check out Etxanobe, Nerua or Arbolaguna in Bilbao itself or, if you feel like really treating yourself, then try and book either Arzak or Mugaritz (San Sebastian) – both of which are staples on most guides to the world’s Top 20.

Don’t just make the trip to San Sebastian for a posh meal though. An hour away from Bilbao by road (or via a private tour operator such as www.basqueleisure.com), San Sebastian shares European Capital of Culture status with the Polish city of Wroclaw this year. Perched on the edge of the Bay of Biscay, this small city – about a third of the size of Bilbao – exudes real period charm and true elegance, all combined with a stunning backdrop. The sweeping Playa de La Concha and Playa de Gros, a surfer’s paradise, provide memorable – if breezy – beaches to while away the time, while a walk through the old town (Parte Vieja) reveals no less than two cathedrals, as well as a magnificent former casino (built in 1887 and now council offices).

It’s the coastal road, on the return stretch to Bilbao, that offers the most arresting and awesome vistas. Stop off in the coastal fishing villages of Getaria and Zumaia for the best views out to sea, giving you a chance to glimpse hidden beaches and sensational cliff formations as the mountains of Bizkaia tumble precipitously into the crashing surf.

By way of a complete contrast to these dizzying natural formations, be sure to pay a visit to the black-glass clad museum dedicated to Getaria-born Cristóbal Balenciaga. This couturier and designer is now regarded as one of the most influential figures on the 20th century fashion scene.

Having blown off the cobwebs with a little sea air, now would be a good time to begin exploring the Bilbao beyond the Guggenheim – and the Bilbao Fine Arts Museum is the ideal place to start. With a collection of some 10,000 works, including paintings, sculptures and applied arts ranging from the 13th century to the present day, it certainly merits your attention. As you might expect, there’s a distinct emphasis on the sculptors and painters of the Basque region, most notable amongt these are Eduardo Chillida, Jorge Otezia, Ignacio Zuloaga, Jesus Mari Lazkano and Agustin Ibarrola.

If it’s raining – and there’s every chance it will be – you can still learn about Bilbao’s seafaring past while keeping dry at the Museo Maritimo Ria or even take a crash-course in Basque history at Museo Vasco. Don’t expect too much of the information to be in English, though, at whichever one you choose. There’s also a busy calendar of classical and rock concerts taking place in the city – search the Euskalduna Centre, the Arriaga Theatre and the Bilbao Arena for latest listings of upcoming events.

Unsurprisingly, sport is yet another channel for the region to express its singular identity. The city’s football club, Athletic – not Athletico, which is way too Spanish – Bilbao selects only players born in the Basque country. They’re yet to face relegation from the premier division and only Real Madrid, Barcelona and Athletico Madrid have won more La Liga titles. In the era of the galacticos just imagine how your team would fare if it only fielded local boys. Athletic recently built a new stadium – San Mamés – next to its old home and can now accommodate more 50,000 of their ever-passionate supporters.

If you’re looking for a more unusual pastime, then check out pilota (pelota in Spanish) a court game that can be played between a sliding numbers of players all wielding a variety of different bats, rackets and handball techniques to wallop a hard leather projectile about the place. The Basques love it, of course. They did invent it.

Then there’s the bullfighting. Despite a number of neighbouring regions – notably Cataluña – banning corrida de toros long ago, Bilbao stubbornly adheres to this bloody tradition. The local bullring hosts one week-long meeting every year, normally in August. It’s worth checking the dates in advance. If only to ensure you miss them by a comfortable margin.

Deservedly, Bilbao is proving itself an increasingly popular travel destination. While the Guggenheim dominates, it would be a poorly prepared visitor who restricted himself to this one – admittedly wondrous – highlight. The acid test of how you’ve taken to Bilbao will ultimately depend on your answer to one particular question once you’ve returned home – where have you been? If you’re still saying “Spain,” then you’ve rather missed the point. If, however, you say “The Basque Region,” with a distant faraway grin, you’re clearly a convert to the cause.

My Kwai…

About 120 kilometres northwest of Bangkok, nestled against the Myanmar border, lies the province of Kanchanaburi. The province’s capital town – perhaps a little confusingly, also known as Kanchanaburi – is home to some 30,000 residents and swollen all-year-round with a never-ending tide of tourists. Notoriously, the province is home to the Death Railway – the Burma-Thailand line built by prisoners-of-war under the watchful eyes of the Japanese occupying forces of World War II.

To many, it will be best known for its starring role in The Bridge On the River Kwai, the 1957 movie that told the tale of the construction of this infamous project. The movie, though, was actually filmed in Sri Lanka – although The Deer Hunter, Michael Cimino’s 1978 Academy Award-winning film, genuinely was filmed here.

Over the years, historians – and politicians of various hues – have taken issue with The Bridge On the River Kwai’s take on this controversial episode. Both its geography and its depiction of the inhumane conditions of the POWs toiling over its construction have been greatly disputed.

Today, the bridge seen by many visitors is not the original one. That was bombed several times by the Allies back in 1945. In fact, even the railway line itself no longer exists, closed in 1947 when it proved economically nonviable in peace time. Some sections of it, however, were re-opened in 1957.

In many ways, it is its symbolism that makes the bridge quite so significant today. The war fought here was brutal and even the tourist recreation of the original bridge remains a testament to that. The events that took place here some 70 years ago still define the area, though the many that come to revisit the past, often find themselves transfixed by the present, enraptured by the incredible landscapes and unique wildlife that abound here.

The war, though, remains omnipresent. Close by the bridge is the JEATH War Museum. It takes its name from an acronym of the forces from Japan, England, Australia and America, Thailand and Holland who laboured, fought and fell here. It houses a small but memorable collection of war relics – guns, Japanese swords, uniforms, money and photos. The fact that it looks like it hasn’t been touched since it opened in 1977 only adds to its charm.

The English translations of the captions to the collection are often hand-painted on the walls and typically too long to read. This simple presentation, though, and the way that the items have been left unmaintained actually gives them an authenticity missing in many Western museums.

In terms of travelling around the wider region, although a rail line still stretches out to Kanchanaburi, no trains pass over the famous bridge. In fact with only two trains a day heading out from Bangkok, travelling by rail is seldom a really viable option in this particular part of the world.

A better bet is the rather more frequent bus service – first class with air conditioning and fewer stops, then the second and third class options with reduced comfort and a lower likelihood of arriving at your desired destination. These services leave Bangkok several times a day and typically cost around 100 Thai baht (HK$22). It’s also easy to hire a taxi for the whole trip, which shouldn’t cost more than about HK$650. Alternatively, for about HK$110 day, you can hire a car from one of Bangkok’s more reputable auto leasing companies.

The journey between Bangkok and Kanchanaburi town inevitably sees you hit pockets of local traffic on the narrow highways, prolonging the journey somewhat. The flexibility of having a hire, though, will be the envy of many of those confined to the buses. Overall, the province extends some 225 kilometres, running from the bridge to the Three Pagodas Pass on the border between Thailand and Myanmar, with a host of spectacular sites to savour along the way.

Kanchanaburi town will inevitably prove the ideal place to start your visit. Small and with an ever-shifting population of backpackers, it still maintains that uniquely Thai vibe. While there are no five-star hotels here, there are a number of well-run and comfortable places to stay set along the river, many of them offering the ideal locale to watch the sun go down. These establishments range from the modest Good Times Resort to the more upmarket U Inchantree Kanchanaburi, with plenty of others falling somewhere in between.

A bustling night market runs throughout the week, one clearly geared more towards the locals than the tourists. With sleepy fruit-stalls lining the road, there’s something timeless and uniquely charming about Kanchanaburi. Throughout its stretches of barely touched land, you can find waterfalls, caves and fast-running rivers with clean, fresh water.

By contrast, the winter here is so dry that forest fires are commonplace. The charcoal remains of such blazes – brief or otherwise – can be found scattered throughout the hills. It all makes for a suitably savage backdrop to the area, an ever-present reminder of its history of conflict and bloodshed. Surprisingly, though, many of the POWs confined here found that this manifestation of nature at its rawest was the one thing that kept them going. Indeed, many vowed to one day return and revisit it in happier times.

It is perhaps such sentiments that have allowed the region to come to terms with its troubled past, without ever trying to forget it. Indeed, there are reminders everywhere – notably the Hellfire Pass Memorial Museum, one of the best maintained repositories of its kind to be found locally.

Established back in 1998 by the Australian Government, it’s dedicated to all of those who lived, worked and died on the Death Railway, regardless of their ethnic or national origins. Also known as the Konyu Cutting, a small podium nearby provides a view out over the grassland the rail line skirts.

In the eerie semi-silence, broken only by buzzing insects, it’s hard to imagine this landscape was once alive with enforced labourers using their bare hands to build such an historic railway, enduring both searing heat and 100 days of monsoon rain.

At the entrance of the memorial, a small building gives visitors the chance to watch videos and peruse photos and relics from those bygone days. Tellingly, though, a sign informs all-comers that it is the cutting and the rail tracks that are the real museum.

Getting away from this history and deeper into nature is also surprisingly easy. In fact, many visitors find themselves spoilt for choice. The Sai Yok Noi Waterfall is only about 19 kilometres from Hellfire Pass, although the locals maintain that Erawan – set within the Erawan National Park – is actually far more beautiful.

Erawan’s seven-tiered falls are said to resemble Airavata, the three-headed white elephant who bears Indra on his back in Hindu mythology. Fittingly then, the park itself is home to a number of wild elephants, as well as tigers, deer and gibbons. It is unlikely, however, that even the stealthiest of visitors could ever move deep enough into the forest to actually be able to make an encounter with many of them.

A visit to the waterfalls is best made in June or July, when the water flows more freely. If you visit later in the summer, though, you may find the upper tiers closed for safety reasons. Each tier has a name and the best is Phu Pha Erawan, set some 1.5 kilometres from the bottom and only accessible by a fairly steep hike up through slippery rocks and tangled tree roots. Forming the seventh tier, it has the best rock pools and the clearest water – frosty blue and enriched with minerals. It is ideal for a cool swim or a complimentary fish spa courtesy of the exotic specimens that inhabit every level of the waterfall. For a more authentic experience, true nature lovers should opt to spend a night in the park, renting one of the simple fan-equipped cabins closeby the falls.

A still better way to get to the heart of the province, though, is to stay along the river itself. Several floating hotels are moored along the Khwae Noi river, grouped where it actually fringes the Sai Yok National Park.

While its not easy to find the small pontoon where long-tail boats ferry guests back and forth, it’s worth the effort. Once you are aboard one of the floating hotels, you won’t want to return to dry land any time soon. Surrounded by water and jungle, it takes less than a day to fall into a truly natural rhythm.

The pick of the bunch is the River Kwai Jungle Raft, an award-winning eco-floatel. Although lacking an electricity supply, both dinner and breakfast are included in the price, while its kerosene lamps amply light the way at night – 21st century natives be warned, however, the whole place is smart-device-charging point free.

While this bamboo lodge is connected to a sand bank, this is submerged at high tide, leaving residents temporarily cut off. There is, though, more than enough things on board to keep them diverted – a large dining room and a series of rooms spread along the river, each with an almost obligatory hammock. There is also a front deck from where many guests pass the time simply diving in and out of the cool, fresh river.

At night, the floatel offers traditional Mon dances – graceful performances inspired by the flora of Mynamar. The sky above – stunningly starry and clear – is, however, by far the best entertainment.

By day, visitors can try out a number of river activities including bamboo rafting, or simply relaxing. In the misty, early morning you can also sometimes glimpse the locals riding elephants to work.

To ease your transition back to dry land, strawberry picking is a fine diversion during the winter months. There are also a number of explorable caves in the area, though some, such as those at Erawan National Park, are closed to the public. It is worth exploring the Lawa Cave, which is set close to the River Kwai Jungle Rafts and features a host of stalagmites and stalactites dotted throughout its various chambers.

Closer to Kanchanaburi town is the Kra Sae Cave. This is sacred to the locals and houses several depictions of Buddha. It’s near to the remaining traces of the Death Railway and even a more modern line goes there, though times and journey durations tend to be somewhat on the unpredictable side.

A few days in the Kanchanaburi province is barely enough. There’s just so much to explore – especially in the border areas – and rushing would seem an affront to the area’s ancient solemnity. Like so much of this region, its bloody history is thinly buried beneath its tourist-friendly veneer, abiding and ever-present beside the genuine welcome of the locals. Scratch a little deeper, though, and the Death Railway is just a few stops down the line in this timeless wilderness.