Christian's Travel Blog

No, I'm not tired of hiking. Indeed, my journey around the globe - though 'back home' - keeps me movin' on.  The late summer reminds me that I am back in the heartland of 'Old Europe' with its splendid four seasons. Autumn is probably the best time for hiking in the Austrian Alps.  'Der Berg ruft' , we say in Austria. I won't get tired to climb 'my' mountain, the  Traunstein . Imagine  s taying overnight on top, enjoying the unforgetable moments 'from dusk till dawn' - counting shooting stars under an endless sky. Early morning you awake bedded on soft cushions of clouds.  It takes a short hike from the mountain hut to reach the summit cross,  unveiling unforgetable views as the sun rises higher into the sky. But don't fall off the cliffs when suddenly a chamois is crossing your path. How may I describe this feeling of joy? Is it the silence high above the people's daily busy life? The panoramic views that allow me to

During spring 1974, I was studying for my final exams at a commercial school in Austria, with the prospects becoming a bank merchant. To be honest, I knew little to nothing about the happenings in Lisbon at that time: the carnation revolution , leading ultimately also to the independence of its "oversea colonies" in Africa. For my part, Portugal was simply linked to history: the time of the (socalled) discoveries and great navigators . I assumed, the occidental nation was somewhat isolated at the Iberian peninsula and oriented first and foremost towards the Atlantic Ocean - living on its past glory and myth, relived in the fabulous expression of Fado . My knowledge about Africa was not much different. It took me a journey around the world and - what enlightment - a decision to swap my banking career for an African experience in development cooperation. And so it be - an unknown "lusophone " world opened to me its pages over the past two decades: Guinea-Bissau, C

One year ago I assumed a journey around the world - doesn't matter how many coupons or destinations you include - ends with its last flight back to the original port of departure. In my particular case: from New York to Vienna. Back in Vienna I do have a problem with that. Not only that I just fell in love with NYC - a place where I could imagine to work and live for some time without hesitation - but more important, as a contextual feeling: Upon arrival I felt displaced! And believe me, that has nothing to do with Vienna - neither with the warm welcome at my family's place, nor with the location itself: Vienna is a great city to explore as well as for living. So I had to ask myself: "What is wrong? Even the sun is shining!" There is something unique that comes along with a trip around the world that differs from any other kind of travelling, be it on business or vacation. YOU MOVE ON! Literally, there's no return ticket. Although your body and mind

333 days by plane, ship, train, bus, and on foot - a backpack as company - only to finally find myself climbing up the last of the seven hills that lead to the big apple: New York! Indeed, NY is not a Snow White. NY does not atempt innocence, nor virginity. NY is just as I knew it from all that movies, TV series, magazines, and stories ... I love NY! What a place to finish a journey around the world - right in the heart of this magic, vibrant "melting pot". If you are lucky to meet one of the seven dwarfs behind the seven hills and listen to his tale of hidden secrets, you may find in the middle of the Manhatten forest of skyscrapers and glas towers a nestled meadow - the Bryant Park - guarded by two lions, nicknamed Patience and Fortitude. The meadow hosts one of the most precious goods of this vibrant city: TIME! Because without time there's no access to the vast collection of the NY Public Library - from medieval manuscripts to contemporary poetry. This midtow

NEW YORK - the big apple - is preparing to receive the lonely cowboy on his last stop of his journey around the world. But first I owe you some story-telling of my recent adventures - a road trip along the Rocky Mountains into the heart land of the Wild West. From Alberta down to Montana, Idaho and Wyoming - home of one of the last and largest undeveloped landscape in the continental United States: The Yellowstone National Park . Hey, since weeks I'm travelling through bear country. Although, I am still in search for my first encounter with both the black and grizzly bears. They're already spooking around in my head: If you encounter a bear, stay calm. Guidelines suggest you won't make abrupt moves, assume a nonthreatening posture, avoid eye contact, and slowly back away. Sounds good for "Gringos", but can one seriously expect from a lonely cowboy to turn sideways? Calamity Jane would have spit about Lucky Luke backing away. They never would drop to the

Moby Dick's mouth was wide open ... ready for an adventure up the rugged coast line of British Columbia - to meet the Grizzlies in their natural habitat. Somewhere in the South Pacific I found a National Geographic Magazine with that thrilling story and amazing pictures of the Kermode Bear , a white species of the Grizzlies that live only on two islands up North. And one of them - Princess Royal Island - I just passed on board of the Northern Expedition Ferry on my way up to Prince Rupert.   What a great vessel, what a wonderful journey up the inner passage. Fifteen hours of splendid nature along countless islands and inlets in company of some curious whales. They don't mind the daily ferry. Nor do the bears. They're just waking up from their hibernation period and are still up in the hills, grazing on the fresh meadows. Unfortunately for me, because their feast of the season - the salmon run - is not happening before August. Hence, no salmon, no bears! It's

Tlo-hon-nipts - those who drift in from the ocean ... Native Indian legends tell of a few pale-faced men with black hair on their chins, drifting ashore with the wrecked ships on tribal beaches, up the wild and rugged northwest pacific coast line in ancient times. It is told, beeswax, the ancient cargo of a lost Spanish galleon, was dug from the sands of northern Oregon for generations, first by Indians (First Nation people) and then by white settlers.    This week I "drifted" ashore on British Columbia's Vancouver Island , crossing the Strait of Georgia on a comfortable Ferry into the harbor of Nanaimo - visiting Mike , my former study colleague at the University of Cape Town . What an exciting home base for my next adventures: excursions into the giant rain forests , hiking up the rivers to meet the grizzly bears , and watching the beautiful orcas playing in the narrow deep blue straits (enjoy this video clip from Mike to create a bit of appetite).

Two weeks since my touch down in the USA, my acclimatization process reached an advanced level: I enjoy walking through the streets of San Francisco. Off course, that's not a big deal. SF is a sympathetic town with surprisingly far less than one million inhabitants. And the down town hostel I dropped in represents most of the city's two-sided  charm - including a cute, colorful hummingbird , showing up by the hour at the window next the computer. On a trip ATW+20, you feel instantly certain changes based on the contradictions of the new reality and your memories. Three of them seem mostly present since I'm touring the States. Somehow they are all related with the economy - but that's what obviously counts most here. The first big thing while driving 3000 miles through the States was about "new cars". Although the three big American car manufacturers again report profits (after the close-to-default situation in the aftermath of the financial c

I'm new here - using the lyrics of Gil Scott Heron 's last album - landed in the country were the roadtrip was born. The radio plays Bowie's Ziggy Stardust while I wind down steep serpentines, diving deep into the dessert - below sea level. The digital info display indicates 40 degrees Celsius . I press the electric operating buttons to open the windows and switch the automatic gearbox in neutral position. The car takes up speed. Dry hot air blows into my face. I turn up the volume ... "Ground control to Major Tom ..." ... welcome to the Death Valley. Hard to believe that I had some morning frost on my tent. Nor that I crossed the Sierra Nevada at 9600 feet, taking a barefoot walk in the last snow - just to find myself midday below sea level at 40+C. This is what a roadtrip is all about. 9 national parks in 10 days; 3056 miles. Yosemite, Death Valley, Zion, Bryce, Capitol Reef, Arches, Canyonlands, National Monument, Grand Canyon. A route

Spring is arriving in the northern hemisphere. And as I planned my journey along the sunny side of life - following for a year the warm seasons around the globe - my time in the South Sea comes to an end. Almost three months of island hopping: Tahiti, Moorea, Bora Bora, Huahine, Tikehau, Rangiroa, Vana Levu, Taveuni, Tongatapu, Fungamisi, Ofu, Lifuka. So what place I might select to say "good bye" before departing from Nadi towards North America? Just back from Tonga, I decided to stay only one night in Suva - watching the new SciFi-movie Oblivion - just to go back in time again: Levuka - the first colonial settlement and capital of Fiji back in 1874. And yes, visiting this world heritage nominee site, located on Ovalau island, rewards my efforts with another trip on a ferry boat - the M.V. Spirit of Harmony .    Indeed, Levuka - though a sleepy little frontier town - retains even today many of its pre-colonial and immediately post-colonial buildings. In simi