Category: Travel blogs

On the Las Vegas Strip people mill-about, go casino-hopping, or shopping, or stand around promenades and courtyards taking in the free shows offered by the casino-hotels. But for the real shows one has to pay well, and queue up early to get good seats. And none more so than the shows staged by Cirque du Soleil.

Right now, there are 5 Cirque shows running concurrently: Mystere at Treasure Island, KA at MGM Grand, Michael Jackson ONE at Mandalay Bay, “O” at Bellagio, and The Beatles LOVE at The Mirage. On this particular trip I planned to take in two of these world-class shows: Mystere and “O”.

I did a quick look-up of the history of the company behind these extravagant shows. In the early eighties, in a small town outside Quebec City in Canada, a street theatre troupe called Les Échassiers de Baie-Saint-Paul (the Baie-Saint-Paul Stiltwalkers) emerged under Gilles Ste-Croix. After a few chequered years, one of the performers, Guy Laliberte, became the founder of Cirque du Soleil.

Guy and his cohorts dreamt big: to take the Quebec style circus/show travelling around the world. The rest as they say is history. They Group employs 4000 people, including 1300 artists, and has played to over 180 million spectators so far! Their productions have been staged in 450 cities in over 60 countries.

If there is one show you must see to experience Cirque du Soleil it is Mystere. Themed to ‘Life is a Mystery’ this acrobatic and energetic showcase combines athleticism, drama, theatrical effects, and lighting. The show bedazzles with the colourful imagery of life: dancing, singing, and playful but gravity defying stunts.

As for “O”, it is themed on water and inexorably linked with Venice. A circular blue watery dome forms the stage, designed to look like a submerged Baroque opera house. Acrobats, jugglers, strongmen, clowns, actors in Venetian courtly dress, gondolas, Russian swing artists, surreal landscapes, all blend into a jaw-dropping spectacle. There is almost too much going on to keep track of. Then there is Guifa, a representation of the ‘ordinary person’, who is slowly transformed by the magic of the circus.

We all feel that like Guifa at the end the show!

Over the years I have made numerous trips to Las Vegas, at times to attend business meetings or tech conventions, but many a time simply to enjoy some leisure time with friends, family, or by myself. While Vegas is famous for the glitz of its casinos situated in luxe hotels offering tempting prices for exquisitely appointed suites and all-you-can-eat-buffets, the access to world-class entertainment is what attracts me to the 4.2-mile-long strip.

There are more reasons for visiting Vegas: it is the gateway to The Grand Canyon, the Hoover Dam and Lake Huvasu City. It also only a day’s drive away from Black Rock City, home to the world-famous, annual, community festival, Burning Man.

In terms of out and out showbiz there is nothing like burlesque shows, circuses, and dance revues. Les Folies Bergere had a 49-year run at the Tropicana where showgirls brought cabaret, cancan, and a decadent Paris to a long-legged revue of adult pomp and fantasy. Cirque de Soleil with its circus-like shows like Mystere and O have captivated audiences with stunts without using any live animals. Burlesque shows like Fantasy, X Burlesque and Absinthe run to packed houses, twice daily, giving audiences a taste of old-fashioned vaudeville counterpointed with modern day striptease.

Over the years I have made numerous trips to Las Vegas, at times to attend business meetings or tech conventions, but many a time simply to enjoy some leisure time with friends, family, or by myself. While Vegas is famous for the glitz of its casinos situated in luxe hotels offering tempting prices for exquisitely appointed suites and all-you-can-eat-buffets, the access to world-class entertainment is what attracts me to the 4.2-mile-long strip.

There are more reasons for visiting Vegas: it is the gateway to The Grand Canyon, the Hoover Dam and Lake Huvasu City. It also only a day’s drive away from Black Rock City, home to the world-famous, annual, community festival, Burning Man.

In terms of out and out showbiz there is nothing like burlesque shows, circuses, and dance revues. Les Folies Bergere had a 49-year run at the Tropicana where showgirls brought cabaret, cancan, and a decadent Paris to a long-legged revue of adult pomp and fantasy. Cirque de Soleil with its circus-like shows like Mystere and O have captivated audiences with stunts without using any live animals. Burlesque shows like Fantasy, X Burlesque and Absinthe run to packed houses, twice daily, giving audiences a taste of old-fashioned vaudeville counterpointed with modern day striptease.

“When God was distributing portions of the world to all the peoples of the earth, the Georgians were having a party and doing some serious drinking. As a result they arrived late and were told by God that all the land had already been distributed. When they replied that they were late only because they had been lifting their glasses in praise of Him, God was pleased and gave the Georgians that part of earth he had been reserving for himself.”

– R. Rosen, The Georgian Republic

The Kakheti wine-growing region is testament to the natural beauty of Georgia. Abutting the region are semi-desert landscapes which come in all shades of brown and red dotted with grapevines, maple trees and wildflowers breaking the colour palette.

The town of Sighnaghi is reminiscent of many a Tuscan town with cobbled streets, fresh-painted houses, orthodox churches and vineyards nearby. All the roofs are in hues of red and the town stands on a hillside backdropped by white-topped mountains. The Museum of History and Ethnography is a delight and Nikala Pirosmani’s paintings come alive on its walls.

The nearby Bodbe Monastery (Convent) is a secluded nunnery lodged serenely in the surrounding hillside. St. Nino, responsible for spreading Christianity in Georgia, is buried here, and her tomb attracts visitors aplenty.

While God may have given his own sanctuary to the Georgians the sheer number of monasteries pockmarking the hillsides keeps God’s presence billowing in the wind.

The David Gareja Monastery, located in southern Kakheti, along the Azerbaijan border,  is actually a brace of monasteries, Udabano and Lavra, which in turn represent 21 hermitages in the area.

Around the 6^th century AD, when Christianity gripped Eurasia, the Mesopotamians sent St. David Garejeli, (one of the famed brigade of 13 Assyrian Fathers) to Georgia to spread the good word. These cave monasteries were carved into the hillsides, with frescoes and rock-hewn art adorning chapels, libraries, and common areas. More than a few hundred monks resided here, and soon these monasteries became an important centre of theology. The sheer number of relics, paintings, and manuscripts speak of their devotion, artistry and eloquence.

The Georgians are a proud people who have a zest for living which is second to none. Their stories border on fables, and their songs spring from the heart. Adding a touch of formality to any occasion, or melodrama to any incident, or risking an innuendo in straight conversation comes naturally to them. No wonder that they have a toastmaster for drinking, and they dance aggressively to the rhythms of a primeval time to bring forth their impassioned articulation of life.

People who wear their passions on their sleeves usually always have a sentimental side: Georgians love love-stories or songs of unrequited love and many of them are enshrined in their collective consciousness. The stories may or may not be true, but that is secondary to the construction of a great narrative.

The beautiful town of Sighnaghi is called the ‘City of Love’.  The cobbled streets of this wine-producing town speak of a legend surround their most famous painter, Nikala Pirosmani. It is said that he sold his house to buy a million roses for his lady love, who, eventually left him. He died at the foot of the stairs of a building where he was living his last days in penury. Nikala’s paintings are housed in the Sighnagi’s National Museum, are valued at millions of dollars today, but his love-story is larger than his artistic accomplishments.

In the Black Sea coast town of Batumi another love story blooms. If you have seen the film, Ali and Nino, you may be familiar with this tragic love story written by Kurban Said. Nino, a Georgian princess, falls with a Azerbaijani youth, Ali, who dies while defending his country against the Russians. Though the movie is not quite able to match the brush-strokes of fervid romance of Dr. Zhivago, it does capture the anguish of war-time love.

Georgian artist Tamar Kvesitadze created a 26-foot steel sculpture in honour of this story, and placed it on the road hugging the seashore in Batami. The figures of Ali and Nino move toward each other every 10 minutes, appear in armless embrace, and then separate again. Tourists queue up every evening at 7 PM and watch this spectacle in wide-eyed trance. You may, too: watch the video in this post.

I was in a dream: “……under a bridge made of old bricks spanning a sandy ditch with no flowing water. At the flea market sandwiched there, I picked up a bejewelled Georgian dagger, haggled with the old vendor for a mere 5 GEL. Then I came onto a side-street with a leaning tower with a clock stuck in the middle. Unlike the tower of Pisa this one was more sectionally distorted, but joined together, and then held up by a slanted iron beam. Fast forward….soon I was raising a toast with a ram’s horn cup filled  with Amber wine to a group of people. I was speaking animatedly about Dostoyevsky and his banishment, of Stalin and his failed farm experiments, of Georgian independence from Russia… and then I was dancing vigorously with Georgians in wine-induced camaraderie.”

I woke up…only to realize that it was a vivid recollection of my trip to Tbilisi. I had been to that flea market under the famous Dry Bridge, and did buy a dagger. The Tower of Tbilisi leans quaintly against a puppet theatre, crying against urban linearity. But why was I speaking animatedly?

I was role-playing a tamada or toastmaster. There is no other tradition that can compare with this unique social ritual. The Georgian Supra (feast or banquet) where guests are plied with copious amounts of food and drink in limitless hospitality, requires a tamada. If two people are drinking wine, one serves as the toastmaster. At a home-meal, it is usually the host; but on ceremonial occasions professionals are invited.

The first sadγegrdzelo (toast) must be raised by the tamada. Typically, he should be a good speaker, be respected by all, be knowledgeable about various subjects, and must be able to drink in fair measure! There is an order to the topics for each toast, but in informal situations these can be relaxed. The topics cut across life-lessons to home-grown philosophies, from family to god, from politics to literature. That’s why I was expounding on these subjects in the dream.

As for the dancing: the aggressive folk rhythms of Georgia, when matched with eight or ten slam-dunk toasts, can galvanize any gentleman into twinkle-toed exuberance. Watch me on Video!

As we flew back to Helsinki from Rovaniemi, my mind was aswirl with images stolen from the bountiful wilderness and memories captured from experiences we had had in the last five days. I was totally blown away by Finland; and I don’t mean by the landscape alone.

Finns may appear to be aloof but that is because they respect personal privacy more than most peoples around the world. Give them a justified cause and the famous Finnish talkoo kicks in, that is, doing communal work like barn-raising or log-rolling or even fundraising for the common-weal.

Couple this with another Finnish characteristic, sisu, which translates to courage or grit (Finnish-spirit), and we have a people who are dogged and determined against any adversity or challenge. This attitude stood them in great stead against the Russians in the Winter War of 1939-40 when 350,000 Finns fought the million-strong Russian army twice and inflicted severe casualties upon them.

The Finnish society is very respectful, egalitarian, and well-organized. They have jokamiehen oikeudet (Everyman’s Rights) which allows everyone to access nature (ex. forests) freely; pick berries or mushrooms, go picnicking or walking without any hindrance. One can even camp overnight in a tent or vehicle on another’s property so long as no damage is caused! Sharing is big: when partying oma pullo mukaan, or BYOB, is the norm.

Finland is a well-functioning democracy, with extensive welfare benefits and low corruption. Its institutions are respected, the education system is world-class, 42% of parliamentarians are now women, and the literacy rate has been over 99 percent for the last 30 years! This is also the handiwork of the Lutheran Church (almost 70 percent of the people are Lutherans) which puts education as a requirement for getting married!

Finland regularly tops the World Social and Human Development Indices. It has experimented with Universal Basic Income (UBI), and has even tested two pilot programs. While the results were mixed, we have to applaud their efforts to uplift the less-privileged.

It is no wonder that Finland is The Happiest Country in the World, thrice in a row, according to UN World Happiness Report.

Rovaniemi is both the capital and gateway to Finnish Lapland. While we had come to see the Northern Lights, we discovered great diversions that we could delve into. The first day we spent enjoying the environs in and around the Santa Claus village, located right within the Arctic Circle (see Finland Part1).

The lappish forests have a magical quality to them. In winter they become a fantasy land. No wonder that a plethora of myths and legends have sprung from that well of beauty, silence, eeriness and colour-scape.

There are plenty of husky farms nearby and dog-sledding is great fun – reminded me of Jack London’s The Call of the Wild, though that was set in Alaska! We rafted down a river banked by glorious hidden waterfalls, visited a reindeer farm, and experienced the childlike thrill of tobogganing down a slope.

To view the northern lights we drove up to Lake Unari and checked into a log cabin. It’s a solid structure, built with Finnish lumber – but it had all the trappings of comfort: warm, well-lit, and cosy. Though the northern lights can be seen approximately on 100 in nights year; in September the viewings are a bit luck-dependant. Nonetheless, we fortified ourselves with shots of whisky and a joint – after all we were planning to go into an icy lake and view the spectacle from there! We rented survival suits (a legacy of the Second World War), which are must to get into the freezing waters.

Our luck held and we were treated to a spectacular display that night. The Aurora Borealis is surreal and beyond easy description. To me the green swathes of diaphanous light appeared to be celestial fairies dancing in contortions akin to tornado swirls, only much more gentle and serene.

Northern Lights are called Guovssahasat in the local Sami language. While many legends surround the Aurora, in reality they are charged particles emitted from solar flares that penetrate the earth’s magnetic shield and collide with atoms and molecules in the atmosphere. These collisions cause sparks of light, or photons, which string together to form the colourful displays.

Trivia: the term Aurora Borealis (Northern Dawn) was coined by Galileo Galilei!

We flew to Rovaniemi from Helsinki in early September. Going to Lapland and beholding the Northern Lights had been on our bucket-list for years. The warmth of the afternoon sun and the autumnal brilliance of the foliage welcomed us into a fabled setting. But more about all that in Finland Part 2.

The next day, we trekked the couple of kilometres to the Santa Claus village (located just inside the Arctic Circle) and we all cheered like boisterous children when we crossed the 66.5 degree imaginary line! How this village became the official residence of Santa Claus is quite some story.

Santa Claus is a distillation of legends told to children in the northern countries to bring on some cheer in the dark days of winter. Santa Claus, Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, Sinterklaas, and Joulupukki are all one and the same myth told in various languages. While the legend is ascribed to St. Nicholas, a bishop who lived in modern-day Turkey in the 4^th Century, it was Clement Moore’s (1822) poem, popularly called The Night Before Christmas, which made it a household affair of modern magnitude. Illustrator, Thomas Nast, is credited for drawing the jolly image of Santa.

While many children believed the myth that Santa lived in the North Pole, the lack of grass for the reindeer to feed upon made the story unconvincing. A bit of Scandinavian savoir-faire appended a secret location to the legend: Santa’s workshop was in Korvatunturi in Finnish Lapland.

Eleanor Roosevelt’s visit in 1950 to monitor post-war reconstruction in Rovaniemi had already done a lot for local tourism. The Roosevelt Cottage still stands there as a symbol of American-Finnish friendship, and promotes Santa’s myth globally.

A modern economic resuscitation plan coupled with some marketing brilliance brought Santa’s office into Rovaniemi. The Santa Park and Joulukka Secret Forest were established for children to interact with the secretive elves. The Santa Claus Main Post Office receives thousands of letters every day; and you can even get a reply (with an Arctic Circle postmark) for a fee.

The address:

Santa Claus
Santa Claus’ Main Post Office
Tähtikuja1
96930 Arctic Circle
Finland

I flew into Astana, the capital of Kazakhstan, from Semey. It has a new name, Nur-Sultan, in honour President Nursultan Nazarbayev, who has recently abdicated. For me, though, it remains Astana.

I haven’t read a single article or blog that has not used the words ‘weird’ or ‘strange’ to describe the city of Astana. This planned city, is Nazarbayev’s idiosyncratic display of splendour and power, and an attempt to propel Kazakhstan up the twin ladders of Eurasian leadership and global recognition.

Astana, to some, may appear like a sci-fi set, and is a mix of Dubai, Brasilia and Russian orthodox townships. It’s hyper-modern buildings bend and warp at impossible angles, their claddings of metal and glass shimmer in the sunlight, and their imposing heights want to lay claim to slivers of the blue sky. The entire city fans out on both sides of the Ishim river; but it’s location in the middle of brown-green steppe gives it a starkness that borders on the eerie.

Huge reserves of oil, natural gas and minerals provide the cash for such splurges on architectural extravagance and displays of pomp and ceremony. It is the richest country in Central Asia with a per-capita GDP that is higher than that of the Russian Federation. Its biggest export commodity is crude (45%) and its FDI inflows are from Netherlands, Switzerland and USA. Its focus on infrastructure building has brought in a slew of foreign consultants, architects, engineers, tech-experts, lawyers and teachers.

Despite the lack of an old-city charm and warmth (that Almaty has) there is much to see in Astana. It has museums (the best being, The National Museum of Kazakhstan), gardens, palaces, mosques, and synagogues. I went up the landmark tower of Baiterek, visited the Palace of Peace and Reconciliation, wondered at the Ak Orda Presidential Palace, walked on a beach (imported Maldivian sand) in the Khan Shatyr (world’s tallest tent shaped structure), and marvelled at the Nur-Astana Mosque.

It’s sad to see Kazakhs take the petro-dollar route to modernity but I can understand their need move away from a forgotten way of life, and fast-track their economy into global relevance.

I am in Semey. I find myself standing outside a two-storied log-house with a tin roof and green coloured windows. There are just a handful of people about; Russian tourists I presume. This is the well-preserved living quarters (and now a museum) of one of literature’s giants: Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky.

This diversionary trip was a last minute addition: it would be travesty to come away from Kazakhstan without paying homage to the Russian literary stalwart. So I took a flight from Almaty to Semey; by road it would have taken about 20 hours!

After spending 4 years in a Siberian prison, Dostoevsky was put in compulsory military service in Semipalatinsk (Semey), Kazakhstan, for 6 years. The author of Crime and Punishment, The Idiot (1869), Demons, and The Brothers Karamazov wrote 12 novels besides novellas, short-stories, essays and other writings. The museum has parts of manuscripts, handwritten letters, and his artworks. The basement is a recreation of his work space: his original writing desk, gramophone, books and other chattels provide a glimpse into 19^th century aristocratic lifestyle.

The imposing joint-statue of Dostoevsky and  Chokhan Valikhanovm in Semey is literally ‘a clash of civilisations’: Dostoevesky – exiled Russian littérateur meets Valikhanovm – Kazakh princeling and scholar, direct descendant of Chengiz Khan, and upholder of all things native.

I also took time to visit the Museum of Abay Kunanbayev, Father of Kazakh poetry, philosopher, social reformer. The impressive complex of buildings houses 17 halls, full of exhibits: impossible to traverse in a single day. I only had time to see Abay and his Epoch: his influence on Kazakh economic, administrative and socio-political structure.

Incidently, Semipalatinsk, was part of the Soviet Union’s nuclear weapons program. The infamous ‘Semipalatinsk Polygon’ is just 150 kms away. These numbers are going to shake you: 456 nuclear tests were conducted in this area from 1949 until 1989. I feared that radioactive fallout might still be hanging around; but this is now an actively researched atomic testing site, and the only one in the world that is open to the public!