Guest post: Shopping in Nigeria

I've been a big fan of Lola Akinmade's blog, Geotraveler's Niche – her photographs never cease to floor me. So I am very happy to feature Lola's story about shopping for ankara fabric in her home country of Nigeria. Enjoy!

Not the gorgeous city in the Mediterranean country of Turkey, but rather, the yards and yards of cloth printed with creative designs prevalent in West Africa. Jeans is to casual American wear as ankara is to casual Nigerian wear. Made in places such as Holland and Ghana, ankaras come in various consistencies, qualities, and of course designs. They range from your low-end Super Print ankaras starting at 800 Naira (1 US$ = 148 Naira) to Holland and London waxes, and your high-end Ghana waxes costing between 2,800–3,500 naira for six yards of cloth (1 yard = 3 feet). Once acquired, ankaras are handed to local tailors to sew into outfits which can also be mixed and matched with English wear.


So on Monday morning while travelling in Nigeria, my siblings and I made our way down to the famous Balogun Market close to the Lagos Marina. The market is divided into nameless regions based on what vendors collectively sold. We were looking for "Ankara Alley".

"Hold on tight!" our mother yells in reference to our purses as we meander through and navigate the obstacle course that is the market, narrowly missing vendors, porters, and motorcycles squeezing through crowds, and leaping over backed up drainage. After a 10-minute dodge course, we make it to the narrow alley, and a wave of color hits us. Walls of ankara surround us and we spin around confused and awed. Picking what we wanted through thousands and thousands of folded multicolored cloth was darn near impossible and so we plotted strategy: color first, pattern second, price third.

I find a gorgeous black ankara with white and orange flower prints all over it. "Sister, sister!" the vendors yell at me. They are women about my age. If I'd been older, they'd have called me "Mommy! mommy!".

"See this one! See this one!" they lift folded cloth up to my nose like I was meant to sniff them like flowers. They try to sell me the high-end ankaras. I speak Yoruba to them and they understand not to peddle their most expensive wares to me. I marvel at their stock and then point to my black ankara. "How much?". We haggle a little bit for the price, and they graciously knock about 100 naira off. One can't be too greedy when trying to purchase beautifully printed material with designs so unique that frankly, you might be part of a handful of people on earth with that particular style.


My intention was to buy just six yards of black ankara.


I left with 30 yards of beautiful ankara waxes in different colors.

The surprise of 5Rhythms

A few weeks ago, I wrote a story for the travel writing competition by Bradt/Independent on Sunday. I had recently discovered 5Rhythms and inspired by the experience, I scribbled this in thirty minutes after returning from class one evening. The theme of the competition was 'Destination Unknown'. To my pleasant surprise, my story was shortlisted – out of hundreds of submissions, mine made it to the final circle of 19 stories. Even though I didn't win, I thought that was pretty cool. So I decided to share my story:

Tuesday evening. Early spring. New York City. I hop on the subway near my Brooklyn apartment for a quick ride to a West Village dance studio. I have the address, I have the cross streets. My destination: a first-time class of 5Rhythms, a dance turned into a global community. Movement in meditation, as a friend described it once. Still, I am unprepared. No clue about what awaits on the other side. Just a hard fact of Manhattan, looming across the East River.

I arrive to a cavernous room with sky-high ceilings. It is dark, save a series of video projections gleaming on the walls. The music is slow, entrancing. Around me, people are warming up, stretching in downward-facing dogs, sun salutations. Different ages, life stages, hairstyles, fashions, facial expressions. Some are dancing at a snail’s pace. Others boogie nervously. I’m gently told to take off my shoes and join the dance floor.

I still don’t quite know what’s happening. Then, unhurriedly, the music pulls me in. I start to move. As do those who a second ago seemed shy, obvious novices like me. I close my eyes, still not knowing what exactly I am doing here, or even where I am. Those cross streets outside make sense no more.

And then the wave begins. New York, the world, it all slips away. I start to move more freely. The music rushes through me like that adrenaline-filled moment of arriving to an unknown city that’s topped a dream list for years. The next thing I know: African drums are making my muscles shake in ways previously unknown to my body. I could be in some backwater village of Angola, it is nighttime and the stars are bright. Then I’m off to India – my hips swaying, the belly fluttering in tune with melody. Before I know it, I am kicking my legs up and sensually sliding across the floor to the sound of Argentine tango, alone, as if tango were a desert island. A didgeridoo calls me to the outback where I can nearly feel the dry red rock under my bare feet, the smell of eucalyptus forest, a waft of scented wind.

For two entire hours, I dance. And I travel, from country to continent, from city to hamlet. A journey with no map, no itinerary and no destination. Despite the random wanderings of my body, the rhythm roots it into this very moment. There is no other place I’d rather be. There is no place I want to go. My wanderlust, quenched.

Five rhythms create the giant wave the whole room is riding – Flowing, Staccato, Chaos, Lyrical and Stillness. Each mood: a stop en route to yet another unfamiliar place. There is no guidebook for where the music takes me. How does my body wax lyrical without getting lost? I discern no pointers to what lies in the chaos of my mind.

Around me, an eight-year-old boy is circumnavigating the room in big sweeps, like a ship on a stormy day. His mother dances in place, looking up, perhaps for a happier day. A handsome young man is down on the floor, making spiral shapes with his body, creating a map through movement. A middle-aged gentleman nods his graying head in perfect unison with music.

There is no rhyme or reason. There is just rhythm, five of them. None of us in the room know where we’re heading. Each new song becomes a destination. Some are dark. During one drum-filled crescendo, I remember the father I lost to cancer two months ago. I cry like a child, abandoned. Another song makes me as carefree and happy as a sunny afternoon on one of Lisbon’s seven hills. Then angst overwhelms, like the afternoon I lost my way in the maze of Marrakesh souks.

I keep on dancing. I can’t return, yet I don’t know where I’m heading. Ever moving is among the few rules of 5Rhythms. You don’t stop. Where you’re going matters not. If only the very point of your little finger is stirring, if only softly, the journey is on. Destination: unknown. How refreshing just to be, without itinerary, objective, sights to see, restaurants to eat at, bars to forget in. On this journey, there’s just intention. And there’s music.

Guest post: NYC's Koreatown

As part of my ongoing guest post series, I've invited the talented Wendy of Escape from New York, a fabulous travel photo blog, to share some tips and photos of her home city (which happens to be mine too!). After reading her post, I'm now seriously craving some Korean food. Read on and enjoy.

Despite the fact that it is nestled near two major tourist destinations – the Empire State Building and Macy’s – Koreatown is one of New York City’s lesser-known neighborhoods. Just a block long, the epicenter of K-town, as it is known locally, is on 32nd Street between Broadway and Fifth Avenue.

The main drag is jam-packed with restaurants, salons, karaoke bars, bookstores and overseas branches of domestic Korean banks. Plastic food displays and a little splash of neon beckon pedestrians passing through.

Unlike other New York City enclaves (think Chinatown or Little Italy), Koreatown in Manhattan isn’t a neighborhood in the residential sense. But you will see real estate ads for property in Queens’ Koreatown, its much larger big sister.

K-town won’t disappoint foodies. Everything from traditional Korean BBQ restaurants to more trendy minimalist venues that would look right at home below 14th Street can be found here. There are also plenty of on-the-go self-serve places. Many restaurants are open 24 hours. Check out New York Kom Tang Kal Bi House at 32 West 32nd Street, which claims to be the oldest Korean restaurant in the city.

Koreatown is easy to get to. Located on the doorstep of Herald Square, take the B, D, F, V, N, Q, R, or W trains to 34th Street.

In the wilds of British Columbia

The supposed job of a travel writer is to tell stories of travel, to bring faraway journeys close to home, to capture experiences in a vivid way. I've been doing that professionally for almost ten years yet here I am, just back from one of the most unique and exhilarating trips of my life and simply short of words.

It's been exactly one week since I left New York City and flew into Vancouver for my weeklong research trip in British Columbia. After one lone day in the city, I moved on the explore the BC's countryside.

I spent two days on the BC's Sunshine Coast, at Rockwater Secret Cove Resort, glamping (read: glamorous camping) in one of their fabulous tenthouse suites. Mornings were a real treat, waking up at sunrise to the view of the Pacific stretching before me, unobstructed save a few verdant branches. On my last night, I enjoyed a long soak in the tub taking in the views of the ocean and daylight disappearing on the horizon.


At this adorable property popular with honeymooners, wooden boardwalks connect the tents to the main building, through a thick forest of tall cedar and douglas fir trees.


At pristine and largely unknown Lake Sakinaw, home to the charming Sakinaw Lake Lodge, we took a scenic boat ride passing First Nations pictographs (rock paintings) and fishing cottages. A short hike took us to a stunning viewpoint as eagles flew overhead.


The mountain biking in the old-growth forests was too challenging for yours truly, the roots and rocks making me very nervous and shaky. Walking my bike along the single and double treks was equally beautiful and a lot less terrifying.

After two short seaplane rides, the next stop was Clayoquot Wilderness Resort, one of the most remote destinations I ever visited. Reachable only by floatplane from Vancouver or water taxi from the small town of Tofino, it sits amidst the Clayoquot Sound Biosphere Reserve, with its old-growth temperate rainforests protected by UNESCO. Surrounded by rugged and wild landscapes of Vancouver Island's untouched west coast, the resort is every bit as "remote, refined and remarkable" as its motto claims.

After our orientation session the first evening, during which we learned what to do if we come face-to-face with a bear – which happens on a regular basis! – we saw a big black specimen walk right past us on the way back to camp. He didn't seem all that scary but I certainly wouldn't wish to have run into him at night on the way to the showers, located a substantial walk away from the tents.

The highlights of my Clayoquot stay were many. One misty morning out on the slightly stormy Pacific, we saw humpback and gray whales come up for air, blowing water and taking dives back into the ocean depths. Another morning saw a small group of us mountain bike to the trail head for Penny Falls, which we climbed using ropes and holding on to tree roots and stones. The waterfalls we reached at the top were worth the effort – and I can say that even after the slippery hike back down.

There was so much more – sea kayaking through narrow canals of the estuary that surrounds the Clayoquot camp, a hike along the First Nations trail on Flores Island, horseback riding through the lush rainforest picking salmon berries as we rode past, playing Robin Hood during an archery session...

A fitting finale to my Canadian wilderness journey was the flight back to Vancouver in the co-pilot's seat on a tiny floatplane, one of four seaplane rides I took in one week. As we flew across snowcapped mountain peaks, glacier lakes and on to the Pacific, it dawned on me that I couldn't have asked for a more adrenaline-filled and fun way to end my British Columbia experience. I felt literally on top of the world. What a shock to be back in New York.

Guest post: Art in Chicago

In this week's guest post, Rosalind of Farsighted Fly Girl takes us to an off-the-beaten-trail art tour of Chicago's Bronzeville neighborhood. Enjoy the great read!

Chicago supplies the stuff of dreams for visual art fans. From the Art Institute of Chicago, the Museum of Contemporary Art to famed public art sculptures from the likes of Picasso and a thriving gallery scene, there’s something for everyone. Most visitors head toward the River North gallery district or the art tours downtown but for an art experience off the beaten path, head south to Bronzeville.

Roughly bordering Cermak Road to 47th Street, from the Dan Ryan to Lake Michigan, Bronzeville comprises just 31/2 miles. But the area once known as the Black Metropolis carries an influence well beyond its location. Blues, jazz and gospel developed and flourished in Bronzeville. Literary classics such as Native Son, A Raisin In The Sun and A Street In Bronzeville were all based on experiences in the neighborhood. After a long period of decline, the neighborhood is again enjoying a renaissance as a hip nucleus for culture and art. The last five years have brought a rush of new businesses and tourism initiatives but none stand out more than the strong art gallery scene.

One of my favorite galleries is Gallery Guichard, a jaw-dropping, three-floor structure with almond-colored brick and elegant picture windows that stream color and light. Gallery Guichard exists as a work of art itself. If you can get past 2,400 square feet of textured walls, cherry hardwood floors, floating wall panels and hand-crafted light fixtures, you’ll witness one of the most extensive collections of multicultural art in the city. Notable Chicago artists such as Makeba Kedem DuBose, Dayo Laoye and owner Andre Guichard hang their work in this space.

If it’s history you want, visit the Southside Community Art Center. Housed in a stately brownstone, this venerable center was dedicated by Eleanor Roosevelt in 1940 and stands as the country’s oldest African American art center. You can catch exhibits, auctions and art classes at the center regularly.

For a more global perspective, check out Faie African Art. Browse through sculpture, artifacts and masks representing Eastern, Western, Central and Southern regions of the African continent. Although all the galleries are close by each other, the free Bronzeville Art District Trolley Tour offers shuttles between the galleries from 6PM-10PM every third Friday of the month.

One day in Vancouver

How does one sum up one lone day in a city you never visited before? A tough task.

I touched down in Vancouver at 10.30am on Monday morning. It is my first visit to the west coast of Canada and to this city that's gearing up for the 2010 Winter Olympics. Driving into downtown from the airport, it felt very much like Seattle – a Pacific Northwest metropolis with a stunning natural setting that takes your breath away. Mountains meet the ocean meets the rainforest greenery and old-growth forests hiding hundreds of years of unspoken wisdom.

After checking into my downtown hotel, I went out to explore. I had a 5.30pm appointment so my encounter with Vancouver was to be short and hopefully sweet. I strolled Robson Street, the main shopping thoroughfare lined with big-name stores and funky independent boutiques. It was a pleasant walk but shopping isn't what a city makes. At least for me. Food, more so. My lunch was delicious, at a small waterfront restaurant, Raincity Grill on Denman Street, that serves organic locally sourced food from within the 100-mile radius. My salmon was succulent and perfect fuel for the walk along scenic English Bay toward the Granville Island ferry.

After what was probably the shortest ferry ride of my life (about five minutes long and $3 cheap) on the tiny Aquabus boat, I took a wander through the delightful Granville Island Public Market. The food looked so appealing that I almost regretted having had that filling lunch. What followed was a ramble along the back streets of this artist enclave chockablock with galleries and crafts shops. I loved the echoes of the area's industrial past – once home to sawmills, warehouses and factories – and the bridge running above, giving it an urban edge. Below, a few market scenes.





At 3pm, I had the ambitious idea of zipping over to Stanley Park in a cab in order to rent a bike and see this evergreen oasis on wheels. By the time I arrived to the park's edge, I realized I am about to enter a 1000-acre swath of dense forest and hop on a sea wall path that takes at least an hour to circumnavigate. I had to be back at my hotel within the hour so, regrettably, I had to stand up Stanley.

Or so I thought. But the evening had a lovely twist in store. After dinner, I joined a small group – two Saudis, two New Yorkers (including yours truly) and our Canadian guide Pieter – for an evening exploration of Vancouver sights. While I prefer to stumble into things unexpectedly, explore independently and get lost in cities new to me, this particular tour was a pleasant surprise. We saw the usual roster of sights: the First Nations totem poles in Stanley Park (I did make it after all, although on four wheels not two), the hip gentrified waterfront community of Yaletown, the narrowest office building in Chinatown and the panoramic views from Vancouver Lookout, a viewing deck more than 40 floors above ground with a 360-degree view of Burrard Inlet and the North Shore Islands.

But what impressed me more were Pieter's stories, the tidbits of information only locals know, the "secret" spots like Third Beach in Stanley Park at sunset and historic Gastown, the birthplace of Vancouver with cobblestone streets and Victorian houses once frequented by sailors and now transformed into a restaurant-bar row near the edge of Vancouver's rough alleyways. We ended the night at a Gastown sidewalk over a glass of red wine, watching the gallery of local faces – quarreling couples, quirky characters and homeless artists paraded past us, some stopped for a chat... No better way to end my single day in Vancouver than with a little local flavor.

Guest post: Discover Toronto

I've been a fan of Folie à Deux blog for a while now, always looking forward to Jen's new travel musings and amazing photographs. So it's with great pleasure that I introduce Jen's guest post on her home city, Toronto. Enjoy the read!

Last year, an estimated 25.9 million people visited Toronto. Of that number, 10.6 million stayed at least one night or more. And even though Toronto has little to offer by way of history, there is an insatiable interest in the city’s strongest aspect: its multicultural cachet.

The Toronto most visitors would come to know is the one bordered by Bloor Street to the north, Jarvis Street to the east, Queen’s Quay to the south, and Bathurst Street to the west. Few would traverse outside of this expert-approved, time-tested, guidebook-recommended grid, which is enough to load a week’s worth of activities anyway. But whether you go beyond or stay within these limits, you will be rewarded with a Toronto that gyrates to its own rhythmical melting pot.

GREATEST HITS REVISITED
Standing at the base of Toronto’s Entertainment District is the tallest freestanding structure in the world and the city’s most iconic symbol, the CN Tower. A reservation at the sky-high 360 Restaurant is a great way to bypass the admission fee, have an excellent meal with views of Lake Ontario and the greater Toronto area, as well as a free pass to the observation deck just below it!

North of the tower, on Spadina Avenue, is one of Toronto’s two Chinatowns. With a Chinese population of 309,000 (537,000 if you include the outlying municipalities), you can bet your horses that it doesn’t get as authentic as this! Produce stands, herbal emporia, mom-and-pop shops, and garish souvenir stores jostle with restaurants along a stretch that is less than a mile long but can be overwhelmingly chaotic. After this intense sensory overload, Asian Legend, just off the main drag, has reliable dim sum and a la carte menus.

But if Chinese food is not quite your thing, immediately west of Chinatown is the artist enclave of Kensington Market. Brimming with eclectic indie shops and vintage stores, Kensington Market is not the fish and fruit place it once was! Today, Urban Herbivore Vegan restaurant salutes the sun beside Pure Intent Healing Arts Centre, while unique gift seller Blue Banana Market showcases around-the-world finds across the street from an Indian tapas restaurant, Waterfalls. And don’t be surprised if, a few steps down, Mexican restaurant El Trompo starts blasting some salsa music to trump Laura-Jean’s sweet dresses at Fresh Baked Goods and the decadent goodies at Wanda’s Pie in the Sky. You could easily spend an entire afternoon in this marketplace.

For fashion fiends looking to fill their urban closet with such reliable yet chic standbys as Club Monaco and Aritzia, make a beeline south from Chinatown to Queen Street West. But if you feel like rubbing elbows with disguised movie stars, head over north to the venerable Bloor Street West in the tony Yorkville area. In no time at all, you will be hobnobbing with society-page regulars in the ateliers of Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Prada, Gucci and the likes.

But Toronto is not just about shopping, food, and stalking incognito movie stars. Around the downtown core, there is a wealth of architectural gems waiting to be unearthed. The Royal Ontario Museum’s Michael Lee Chin Pavilion is Daniel Libeskin’s crystal masterpiece that rises five storey above street level. Not to be outdone, Toronto homeboy Frank Gehry recently unveiled his ship-like glass façade for the Art Gallery of Ontario, criticized by the international press as being a bit subdued for his style. Nevertheless, a few blocks away from the AGO is the Ontario College of Art & Design’s precariously perched gigantic Lego block known as the Sharp Centre for Design. However, if Pop architecture is not your thing, you can always head over to the University of Toronto complex, where Gothic Revival school halls frequently double as Harvard’s or Oxford’s when film crews descend upon the city. And for Modernists out there, you can admire the classic simplicity of Mies van der Rohe’s ebony-glassed Toronto-Dominion Centre in the Financial District.

OFF THE BEATEN TRACK
Hot off the heels of Kensington Market is College Street, where reasonably-priced restaurants conglomerate east of Bathurst Street. In a span of a few feet, you can literally sample the world from Iran to Thailand and Mexico to Nirvana. But go past this grid, and you may well find yourself in one of Toronto’s two Little Italy’s. This one on College Street is the original Italian settlement but nowadays, a variety of businesses have penetrated the area, including sushi palaces and hookah lounges. However, long-time Italian favourites are still around: Café Diplomatico and the Sicilian Sidewalk Café.

Further away from the city centre is the former prison and warehouse district now known as Liberty Village. Today, it is packed with converted lofts occupied by creative types. Nightclubs, lounges, and upscale restaurants have sprouted alongside designer home stores like Dekla and Casalife, making this area a popular destination, day or night. Mildred’s Temple Kitchen and Atelier Thuet are two great dining options within the village.

The fact that Liberty Village borders one of the sketchiest neighbourhoods in Toronto ought NOT to deter visitors from coming. In fact, this has not prevented the gentrification of adjacent West Queen West, the ubiquitous extension of shopping mecca, Queen Street West. The hip Drake Hotel, which opened in 2004, single-handedly revived this once grungy, drug-laden Parkdale neighborhood, forming an axis with the Gladstone Hotel to the west and to Bathurst Street one mile away the other way. Along this West Queen West strip, you will find tourists and locals mixing it up in contemporary art galleries, specialty boutiques, avant-garde clothing shops, and countless eateries. A mental health hospital located smack in the heart of this district casts an interesting mix of characters on its vibrant streets.

Other districts that are making waves are Roncesvalles Village where there once was a thriving Polish community. It is currently the neighbourhood-of-choice for young families not only wanting a downtown vibe but also a certain suburban tranquility. It now houses a myriad of cafes and specialty food markets interspersed by children’s stores and independently-owned book shops that are often thronged by stroller-pushing mommies and dog-chasing daddies. Meanwhile, the emerging district of Dundas West, also known as Portugal Town, now hosts a slew of funky hair salons and contemporary furniture galleries, alongside specialty restaurants serving delicious charcuterie and old-school Portuguese bars showing soccer matches.

At the end of the day, soak up your whirlwind micro-tour of the world at one of the city’s lakeside beaches. By now, you will surely have acquired a taste for the international scene in Canada’s largest most populous city.

No matter which neighbourhood you visit in Toronto, it will be hard to ignore that close to 50% of the city’s inhabitants are immigrants. At times, you will find a curious mix of backgrounds: Senegalese-Canadian, Indian-Hakka, Chinese-Jamaican, Jewish-Portuguese, French-Japanese are but few of the interweaving heritages found here. This diversity is conveyed in more that 200 distinct ethnic origins of Toronto’s inhabitants, sealing its reputation as one of the world’s most multicultural cities.