Wordy Wandering

With iTunes, YouTube, and Twitter to entertain us around the clock, I suppose a bundle of paper glued together and perfect bound can seem like a rather old-fashioned form of escapism. But I like my books anyway. Because even though a shrinking bank account has limited my wandering to the lower 48 this summer, my little library of travel literature still affords me plenty of opportunities for vicarious globe-trotting. A few titles that I've recently added to my collection really impressed me with their honest wit and wisdom so I thought I'd post about them today:

• The last great book I finished was Jeffrey Tayler's Angry Wind, a riveting account of his journey across the Sahel from Chad to Senegal. The small sounds, smells, and sensations that he captures as he navigates the landscapes and customs of Muslim Black Africa greatly enhanced my understanding of the region.
  
• For reasons that I'll explain in another post, I've been steadily working my way through a sizable stack of graphic novels. One my favorites is called Pride of Baghdad by Brian K. Vaughan and Niko Henrichon. Inspired by a true story, it imagines Iraq's chaotic liberation in 2003 through the eyes of a family of lions.
  
• The next hardcover I'm eager to crack open is David Farley's An Irreverent Curiosity, a zany tale that could accurately be described as The Curious Case of the Missing Foreskin. His chapter entitled "The Semi-Retard's Guide to Learning Italian" got plenty of laughs at the last Restless Legs night on the Lower East Side.

And finally, for people who insist on doing their reading online, I have one more recommendation: my friend Nick Gill's new journal of Latin American food, drink, and travel. I can practically guarantee that his restaurant reviews, slideshows, and hotel suggestions will have you itching to book a flight to Chile, Ecuador, or Peru. Perhaps all three. So what's in your summer pile of reading materials? Which authors have transported you somewhere lately?

Time Traveling

I'm kind of a nerd about history. And I blame my parents. Although I neglected to keep careful records at the time, I have a hunch that every family vacation we took from elementary school onwards, was designed to deliver us to the maximum number of museums in two weeks or less. It's almost as if they didn't really want my younger sister and I to stop learning during our fleeting summer holidays.

The twisted thing about their preferred manner of road tripping is that as an adult, I've partially adopted it myself. I mean, it's fairly easy for me to breeze through London's British Museum or even skip the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, but many of my most vivid travel memories are rooted in the past: wandering through rows of megalithic stones on a misty afternoon at Carnac, climbing the steep staircase of Chichen-Itza's Temple of Kukulkan, standing over the calm blue waters of Loch Tay on a reconstructed crannog.

But a fondness for ruins can go too far. Especially when that enthusiasm is expressed by millions of tourists. In fact, according to the Adventure Travel Trade Association, "increased visits [to archaeological sites] have led to damage at sites and often portions of sites have to be cordoned off from the public to prevent further deterioration." In the good news department, the ATTA partnered with the Archaeological Institute of America to create a "Guide to Best Practices for Archaeological Tourism." Read my interview with the two authors in the current issue of inTravel.

Not Just for Chugging Anymore

My first visit to Italy was far too brief. I guess I should've known that four days wouldn't be nearly enough time to explore Lombardy, let alone the rest of the country. But without the luxury of European vacation benefits, I booked my flight to Milan's Malpensa airport anyway, resolving to cram as much sightseeing as I possibly could into a mere 96 hours abroad.

I stayed with my friend Alessandro in Como, and fortunately, he was more than happy to play tour guide for the weekend. He showed me the view over the lake from Brunate, introduced me to the dance scene at Tartaruga, and then, on my last night there, took me to an excellent brewpub, or birrificio.

Liking what I tasted there, I wanted to track down other Italian craft beers once I got back to New York. Although in 2003 I wasn't going to have much luck finding anything beyond Peroni and Birra Moretti. Things have changed in the years since. Earlier this summer I discovered that my favorite local purveyor of malty beverages stocks styles from several smaller producers. As you can imagine, this was a rather joyous occasion. Putting together a tasting of distinctive Italian brews can now be accomplished with a single trip to Bierkraft. Unfortunately, it will also leave a dent in your drinking budget—perhaps no more than a similar quantity of good wine would set you back however.

Of the beers that I've tried so far, Birra del Borgo's Re Ale Extra ($11.95 for a 12.7 oz. bottle) is one I'd describe as perfetto. Pouring a bright, coppery-orange, this super-saison smells sweet and fruity and leaves traces of its three hop varieties on your tongue. For the Italophile, resistance is futile. In fact, I can think of only one better way to revisit to a place that, six years ago, whetted my appetite so thoroughly: going back.

Lesser-Traveled Roads

Besides plenty of surf and scrumpy, Cornwall happens to have an abundance of quiet, traffic-free cycle trails. Last fall I followed part of one called the First and Last from Penzance to Land's End and back. Along the way I snapped dozens of photos with my digital still camera; seven of them ended up in a slideshow for World Hum.

For those who haven't considered a visit to westernmost England, perhaps these images will persuade you to think again. If biking doesn't sound appealing though, take your pick of half a dozen Rail Ale Trails instead.