Asia

Become a wild fan of Borneo

Helen Oon — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 12:43:03 +0000

As the speed boat skims over the choppy sea, galloping over the water from Kota Kinabalu to Gaya Island, a mere 15-minute boat ride, a Borneo adventure awaits.

Gaya Island is the largest of a cluster of five islands that form the Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park in Sabah. The forests on the islands and the sea around them are conservation zones under the auspices of the Sabah Wildlife Department.

At Gaya Island Resort I am met by a bevy of staff armed with a welcome drink and a chilled towel to freshen up. With the heat and humidity, I look like something the cat dragged in from the bush; wind-trapped hair and sweaty.

It is a relief to be back on terra firma and shown to my villa at the edge of the rainforest where the chirping of the cicadas echo through the air.

The resort hugs the shore of the Malohom Bay with the Crocker Range and the awesome Mount Kinabalu looming in the distance across the bay. The mysterious mountain is often obscured by a shroud of cloud, only appearing at sunrise to show off the full glory of its strange rock formations .

One of the rocks is believed by the natives to be the legendary "Kinabalu" or the "Chinese widow" in the local language. Legend has it that each day she stood on the mountain top waiting for her sea-faring husband to return, but, alas, he perished at sea and she turned into stone.

The resident naturalist, Justin, invites me to take a nature walk in the jungle. After a 30-minute trek, I am drenched in sweat but the enchantment of the rainforest, its amazing inhabitants and lush exotic plants compensate.

Liana vines drape and curl over trees like giant pythons constricting their victims, forming aerial walkways for arboreal animals to move from tree to tree without touching the ground. Abrown tree lizard and a crested green lizard are camouflaged among the foliage, but they cannot escape the eagle eyes of Justin. Birds of many hues and colourful butterflies look like delicate motifs against the jade green wall of the jungle.

Gaya Island Resort is committed to minimising the carbon footprint within its environment and so there are no buggies to ferry guests around its hilly terrain.

After an exhausting but educational jaunt in the jungle, a treatment in the resort's spa, built by the edge of a mangrove forest with surreal stilt roots, is invigorating. The high ceiling, glass walls and water feature in the spa create a tranquil sanctuary away from the main part of the resort.

I opt for a relaxing massage and, energised, I am ready to follow in the royal footsteps of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge to Danum Valley. I arrive by air at Lahad Datu. After two and a half hours on a bone-shaking drive on a rugged gravel road, I reach the Borneo Rainforest Lodge in Danum Valley.

The next day the dawn chorus is in full symphony, filling the air with melodious bird song.

My alarm call comes at 6.30am - we need an early start to hike up to the canopy aerial walk which William and Kate enjoyed on their visit to Danum Valley.

My nature guide, Amrafel, and I stroll along the muddy path flanked on both sides by primary rainforest. The morning mist shrouds the emerald forest with an ethereal veil, with necklaces of cloud forming around the giant trees.

Cheeky macaque monkeys frolic on high branches, teasing and bullying one another like children do. The "wak-wak" calls of the gibbons reverberate through the forest - it's noisier than Piccadilly Circus.

The 45-minute trek to the start of the canopy walk is humbling. The jungle towers over us. The ghostly mengaris trees with their shining white bark stand out - the natives call them "the ghost trees", believing they are homes to the forest spirits. It is bad luck to chop them down.

The canopy walkway spans 300 metres, with its highest point 26 metres above the forest floor, suspended by cables fixed to the trees. Stepping along it, you get a bird's eye view of the forest.

Amrafel was one of three lucky naturalists to accompany the royal couple when they embarked on their canopy walk in front of journalists.

"William and Kate were very friendly and informal," he says. "No airs and graces. They spotted three orangutans in the wild which is a very rare sight."

I am staying at the Borneo Rainforest Lodge, an eco-friendly rustic lodge by the Danum River, at the foot a forest-clad hill.

From my verandah facing the river I can see a pair of colourful bird-wing butterflies dance in unison in the sun, flitting over the water and then resting on an Ixora shrub festooned with tightly clustered flowers.

The verdant forest is a cacophony of cicadas and crickets - they make up the jungle orchestra, with intermittent arias from the legion of birds, including the distinctive honking of the rhinoceros hornbill, an exquisite bird with a giant bright orange bill and black and white tail feathers.

I spy one in flight and it lands quite clumsily on a branch opposite the lodge. It is not easy to be graceful when you are the size of a turkey.

A doe and her fawn wander on to the grassy field by the river and begin to graze while kingfishers, clad in feathers of red, orange and blue, circle and swoop down into the water to prey on the fish.

Danum Valley is a magical place - the journey to reach the lodge is long and tedious, but it is worth for this once-in-a-lifetime experience... Danum style!

Impressions of Vietnam

Thu, 17 Nov 2011 11:23:55 +0000

For a land protected by the cosmic spirit of the Blue Dragon, this is a developing country and a booming destination in Asia.

Photo journalist Alice Nower captured her journey around North Vietnam from its heady metropolis of Hanoi to the paddy fields that carpet the landscape of Sapa further north.

Hanoi, located in the Red River Delta, is Vietnam's cultural heart and soul and it is the capital. Daily life sees a seething mass of four million people plying all manner of trade and most get around on motorbikes. You can hire one and join the melee, but beware there are seemingly no rules, no lanes and red lights are a mere suggestion. It is chaos and startled pedestrians find crossing the road intimidating.

A must-see is the water puppet theatre a show that is unique to Hanoi. It used to be pratised by rice farmers in flooded paddy fields for centuries, and is handed down from generation to generation. The technique involves wooden puppets manipulated by bamboo wooden sticks hidden beneath the water. The puppets tell Vietnamese folk tales and stories of daily life.

The lives of the hill tribes in the remote northwest mountains, in places such as Sapa, Cat Cat and Ta Van are entwined with the land but many ethnic minorities - savvy older women in particular - make clothes and blankets to sell to tourists.

Ha Long Bay, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site located in Quang Ninh Province in the Gulf of Tonkin.

It stretches 580 sq miles and the seascape comprises a spectacular cluster of more than 1,600 limestone monolithic islands that rise majestically out of the ocean. Each is topped with jungle vegetation and many extend into arches and caves.

Boat tours, in vessels called junks, include stop-offs at some of the caves and offer the opportunity to explore the waters by kayak.

The bay is home to several floating communities, dotted around the sea. At the last count there were around 1,600 people living on floating houses. Though tourists cannot take alcohol onto boat trips they will have ample opportunity to buy this and other refreshments from persistent floating traders.

Cat Ba Island can be reach from Ha Long Bay by boat, a place many head for to trek in or cycle around the Cat Ba National Park. Two miles away is a speck of an island called Monkey Island. The island is private and is home to Monkey Island resort which offers a clutch of 15 bungalows . Though rustic on the outside - they are made from bamboo and wood - inside there is air conditioning and other modern conveniences.

Vietnam is a communist regime yet historically it is a nation of highly spiritual people.

Buddhism is the most common religion and many Vietnamese make a pilgrimage to Perfume Pagoda (Chùa Huong) in Huon Son Commune to sort out their Karma. They greet each other with the phrase Namo Amitabha Buddha.

The Perfume Pagoda, overlooks the Suoi Yen River, is a vast complex of 30 Buddhist temples and shrines that have been built into the limestone Huong Tich mountains. Get there for the Perfume Pagoda Festival (February to May) and revel with the locals while they celebrate this three month long festival.

In search of the golden fleece

Judith Baker — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 11:56:56 +0100

Stretching from The Black Sea to the Caucasus Mountains and lying on the cusp of Christian Europe and Islamic Asia, Georgia is an enchanting mix of old and new, with a pretty landscape that combines mountains and a pretty coastline.

In the space of just a few days you can ski in the mountains, swim in the Black Sea and embrace an amazing culture in the churches, castles and cave-towns, enjoying delicious cuisine, fabulous wines and overwhelming Georgian hospitality.

This tiny, developing country has remained largely unexplored by western travellers, yet it is no stranger to visitors. During a long and fascinating history there have been influences from all over the world and has been traversed by many routes including the Silk Road.

In ancient mythology, this is where Jason and the Argonauts sought The Golden Fleece that would enable him to become king.

There is no denying Georgia's turbulent past - in 1991, Georgia secured its independence after 70 years of Soviet rule: more recently there was conflict with Russia over the disputed province of South Ossetia. But there is no evidence of danger in the quaint streets and cafes of Tbilisi, the peaceful mountains of Kakheti or the semitropical seaside resort of Batumi.

Legend has it that at the beginning of time when God was giving out land to the nations of the world the Georgians were too busy drinking to attend. Arriving late, God was angry and asked why they had dishonoured him so; there was now no land left to give them. But the Georgians replied that far from dishonouring God they were late because they were drinking to His health and this took some time. God was pleased by their answer and so gave them the tiny bit of land he had been keeping for himself.

After enjoying a Georgian style lunch at Lake Kvareli the fable is almost believable. The meal or 'Supra' as the Georgian banquet is called, is preceded by endless toasts. The head of Supra, the Tamada, conducts highly philosophical toasts, making sure that everyone is enjoying themselves.

The meal goes on for hours as a seemingly endless procession of regional foods spreads over the table. Lunch on this occasion included Asian influenced aubergines stuffed with walnut, cheese bread, tarragon salad, barbecued trout and flat crescent shaped breads made while we watched in a traditional outdoor oven.

I had started my tour in the capital Tbilisi. Architecture in the city is a mix of Georgian, with strong influences of Byzantine, neo-classical European/Russian and Middle Eastern styles.

The Old Town on the left bank of the River Mtkvari is picturesque with charming shops and cafes and a walking tour takes in the medieval Narikala Fortress, Mtatsminda Pantheon and the National Gallery.

Looking to immerse ourselves in Georgian traditions we headed for Tbilisi's therapeutic sulphur springs and 17th century bathhouses, located in the city's Abanotubani district.

The poet Pushkin said he had enjoyed "the best bath of his life" in the blue-tiled Byzantine style baths.

The bad-egg smell is overwhelming, but proved worth it. We hired a private room with bath for about £20 for three and for an extra £4 each enjoyed the skills of a local bathhouse attendant who obligingly beat us with a brush.

Invigorated, and to shake off the smell, we took a short drive from Tbilisi to the fresh country air of the Kakheti region of East Georgia, stopping at the 9th century Bodbe Monastery, resting place of St. Nino and the site of healing springs.

Signaghi, called The City of Love, is home to a 24-hour wedding chapel. But this is no Las Vegas; the town is a recognized UNESCO world heritage site, with cobble stone streets and terracotta tile-roofed homes with colourful carved balconies and views of the Alazani Valley and the Great Caucasus Mountains

We stopped at Pheasant's Tears winery to sample a range of local wines. Kakheti is one of the main areas associated with kvevri winemaking, an ancient technique in which clay containers are buried in the earth to store and mature wine. Grapevine has been cultivated in the fertile valleys of Georgia for about 8000 years

Georgia, although compact, is best explored using inexpensive internal flights as the roads into the mountains can be treacherous.

The Queen Tamar airport at Svaneti, Mestia opened less than a year ago to attract skiers and stands out like a shiny new pin among the village hamlets of the region with their watchtowers dating back to medieval times.

The Grand Caucasus Mountains that stretch all the way from the Black Sea coast to the shores of the Caspian have snowy peaks and lush green valleys that bloom in spring. Georgia has some of the world's most spectacular mountains and finest powder, and with a ski season that lasts from November to April, it is one of Europe's best-kept ski secrets.

Enjoying lunch at Tetnuldi Hotel, Svaneti, overlooking the snowy mountains, it was difficult to imagine that the next day we would be dipping our toes in the warm waves of the coastal resort of Batumi, twelve miles from the Turkish border.

Batumi, says Georgia's President, will soon "have better public spaces, cultural centres, transportation system and comfort than Nice or Cannes."

With its wide Mediterranean style boulevards and handful of smart new hotels and shops, the resort is developing, but thankfully at a slow pace.

It retains old world charm with crumbling townhouses and statues of writer Ilia Chavchava, one of its famous sons, sitting alongside fashionable restaurants and bars.

The town jumps to life annually with its Black Sea Jazz festival, this year with stars such as Macy Grey heading the bill and belting out music across the boutiques and beaches.

We lunch at the nostalgic Privet café, where waiters wear old fashioned sailor suits and walls are graced with sepia prints of old Batumi, including one of the Russian Orthodox church which was formerly on the site of the elegant InTourist Palace hotel which has been welcoming tourists for 75 years.

Although reluctant to leave the seaside, we are enticed into the magical forests south of Batumi, where a dip in the Waterfall of Makhunceti is hard to resist.

Walkies on the wild side. It's time to join the cub

Fri, 10 Jun 2011 10:47:32 +0100

Ever since I had a close encounter with tigers on a safari in India, I have been smitten with these magnificent creatures. Sadly they are becoming an endangered species. That is why I had to embark on a journey that I have been longing to do - to visit the famous Tiger Temple in Kanchanaburi in Thailand.

So at the crack of dawn at 5am, I set out on a two-hour journey from Bangkok to visit Tiger Temple in a forest monastery.

The temple charges a hefty fee of 5000Baht (about £112) for the privilege of mingling with the monks and tigers but it is worth every penny.

The afternoon tour is 500Baht (about £12) but with only the opportunity to see the tigers and pose for photographs.

The ritual starts with alms-giving of food parcels to the monks. In the morning mist, a group of eight monks materialise from the hazy sunshine, their saffron robes draped round their bodies to keep away the morning chill. Led by the chief Abbot, they collect the parcels from our small group of five visitors for that morning.

We follow them to the Compassion Pavilion which is used as a temple. Here, in all its splendour, sits the Golden Jubilee Buddha. It is made of 80kg of gold donated by the King of Thailand on his 50th anniversary to the throne.

Tigers from six-week old tiger cubs to two-year olds are assembled for the morning prayers together with staff and visitors. The monks sit on a raised area of the temple while the rest of us sit on the lower section.

While the monks chant, the tigers sit quietly on their paws. They say that the tigers that are brought to the temple sanctuary were monks and friends in previous lives. It is their karma to live in the monastery in this life.

After the morning prayers we join the monks and staff for breakfast and later we bottle feed the tigers, supervised closely by the staff. We are discouraged from petting the tigers on the head, for in tiger speak, it means trying to dominate them, nor are we allowed to cuddle them. Though hand raised and used to human contact there is always the danger of the wild instinct in them surfacing and may swing a paw at you. It could be out of playfulness but the paws are the size of boxing gloves and have the might of a heavyweight boxer.

My first tiger is a greedy young cub of about six months who gulps the milk in seconds. With his paws resting on me, he swigs his second bottle with relish. The next tiger is about a year old but the size of two Saint Bernard dogs. Its rippling muscles exude power and strength and I can't help thinking how privileged I am that he allows me to stroke and pet him.

Then it's walkies time - we are each given a tiger to take out for exercise.

We walk them to an enclosure with a pond and artificial waterfall for them to play. We are each given a broomstick with a plastic bag and rags tied to the end to tease and play with the tigers. It is such a hoot watching them try to snatch the plastic bags.

Playtime over, it's time for a bath. "Excuse me, you want me to bathe this beast the size of a motorbike?" I asked nervously when my lady minder asks me to lead a huge tiger to a hose pipe. "Yes", she says, " I will hose him down while you shampoo. Try not to splash water on his face."

My tiger seemed to enjoy the spa treatment as I wash him and give him a bit of back massage. I swear I heard a purr coming from his throat.

While he is left to dry, I hand feed a smaller tiger with cooked chicken. He laps the morsels of meat from my palm with his rough tongue scraping my hand like sandpaper.

The tigers are fed cooked chicken and are never given raw meat to prevent them from regressing into their wild instinct if they taste blood.

We lead the tigers on leashes to the canyon where they play in a pool surrounded by rocks. This time my tiger is fully grown with a powerful muscular body that it makes Arnold Schwarzenegger looks like a weedy schoolboy.

He decides to step on my foot as he takes his first step. It is like being stepped on by a fully grown man. In the canyon, about ten tigers are let loose to swim and frolic in the pool. For our safety, we are ushered into an enclosure with wire fence while we watch them play. It's a kind of reverse situation where humans are being caged while tigers are loose. There are many staff and volunteers around to control the tigers and to play with them with rags on sticks or rubber balls.

Tiger Temple started life as an animal sanctuary when villagers gave the monks an injured jungle fowl to nurse. Soon other jungle fowls and peacocks settled in the forest around the monastery. One day an injured wild boar was rescued by the monks and released back into the forest when it recovered. The next day the wild boar returned with his family of ten. Villagers started to bring unwanted pets, four species of deer moved in, followed by buffaloes, cows, horses and wild goats. The menagerie grew and all animals roam freely in the monastery grounds.

The first tiger cub was brought to the monastery in February 1999. It was a female Indochinese tiger cub whose mother had been killed by poachers near the Thai-Burma border. It did not survive but a few weeks later two more were brought in followed by more tiger cubs intercepted by police from poachers. Today the monastery looks after about 80 tigers and there are plans to build a 'Tiger Island' which will enable tigers to live in a natural forest and remain thankfully safe from poachers.

Getting there

● Low cost airline AirAsia X flies to Kuala Lumpur from Stansted with connection to Bangkok on AirAsia regional flights.
● Thai Airways International flies direct to Bangkok.
● Tiger Temple details
● Peninsular Bangkok hotel

The Maldives measure up for relaxation

Barry Toberman — Thu, 25 Nov 2010 17:10:01 +0000

Looking out from the privacy of our villa terrace at Coco Palm Bodu Hithi, the view is almost exclusively sun, near cloudless sky and sea, punctuated on rare occasion by a fellow guest snorkelling in the lagoon. Other than the waves of the Indian Ocean lapping against the stilts on which our secluded villa stands, barely a sound intrudes.

Admittedly, things had not been as quiet on arrival, following a 10-hour direct flight from London to the Maldivian capital of Malé. High winds made the 40-minute speedboat transfer a challenging experience; too challenging for my other half, leaving her in no condition to take advantage of the proferred glass of champagne and foot massage. However, spirits lifted immediately on being shown inside our Escape Water Residence, the highest of four grades of accommodation among the 100 villas.

Coco Palm's longer established sister resort on the islands is described as a "no shoes, no news" retreat, with no TVs in guest rooms. At Bodu Hithi, you can get away from it all yet still enjoy the entertainment technology you would expect from a five-star operation.

Coco Palm is Maldivian owned and the thatched roofed villas blend local concept with worldly luxury, the latter particularly true of a bathroom - complete with cavernous tub - seemingly transplanted from an Italian design showroom. Our spacious villa (184 square metres) also featured a generous lounge area, bedroom with four-poster and sufficient wardrobe and cupboard space for a month's worth of luggage. Partition doors enable a guest to sleep, blissfully unaware that their partner is chilling out with some late night TV. And when you wake, there is no need to leave your bed to resume your uninterrupted sea view as a remote control operates the curtains.

Home comforts also include speciality teas and a Nespresso machine. With the Maldives on UK voltage, I could plug in my iPod charger, although the villa had its own, fielding a suitably chilled out selection of CDs from the likes of Coldplay, Sinatra, Sting and the Beach Boys, as well as a frightening amount of Michael Bublé.

The iPod is one of many benefits for those staying in one of the 24 Escape Water Residences at the far end of the property, from preferential dining options through Club Coco Palm and butler service. Our man, Asim, patiently explained the various benefits when we checked in, leaving his card (yes, they have business cards) by the phone and stressing his availability 24/7. During our week at Bodu Hithi, we had no reason to put this to the test - as is the case, Asim says, with 80 per cent of guests, who adjust quickly to the laid-back ambience.

But he does unfailingly seek us out after breakfast every morning to check all is well and to ask about evening dining choices and other requirements. He also delivered afternoon tea and early evening cocktails to our villa (another Club Coco Palm privilege), as well as a daily fruit selection. I became partial to the bell-shaped water apples, which pretty much taste as they sound.

Staying Club class, we initially opted for the exclusive breakfast with waiter service at the Stars restaurant, close to our villa. Yet we came to appreciate - as will anyone who wants to stick to vegetarian and "acceptable fish" - the benefits of the buffet at Air, on the beach side of the island. A leisurely stroll from the Club area, or a buggy ride along the twisting walkway for the terminally lazy, Air serves up a mouth-watering array of both familiar and exotic goodies for indoor or ocean-side dining. And staff mix a mean fruit juice.

Given the exhaustive selection, it is hard to imagine tastebuds becoming sated. Though just to be on the safe side, daily differences are evident. Where one day we find scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, the next it was poached eggs with pesto, or pancakes replacing waffles. And you will never go short of tuna: along with tourism, fishing is the Maldives' main source of income and tuna is a staple. Bodu Hithi uses a ton of it each week.

Air also offers an evening buffet, with á la carte dining at Stars and at Japanese restaurant, Tsuki, where we salivate over exemplary sashimi. There's also Aqua, specialising in seafood; a French restaurant is a forthcoming attraction. Wine and spirit prices are on the steep side, reflecting the cost of bringing alcohol into hotels in a Muslim country where it is otherwise prohibited.

With a stint at London's Park Lane Hotel on his CV, general manager Mario Stanic appreciates the culinary demands of a Jewish clientele.

"If there are particular requests, the chef will try to help," he tells us.

Centrally located in the property is the Coco Spa where, in keeping with the mood of the holiday, we took an outdoor yoga session. I found myself unable to hold the tree position, not least because of the distraction of the scenery. I also tried the gym and found that pounding the treadmill is infinitely more enjoyable with such a spectacular vista to contemplate. Foliage is largely as nature intended, unless it blocks walkways. The one artificial addition are the plaques left by guests celebrating honeymoons or other special occasions, a key element of the Coco Palm market. The UK accounts for a fifth of guests, with most of the remainder from France, Germany and Italy.

The soft white beaches are often almost deserted as guests opt to sunbathe in their private villa area, all with plunge pool and affording shade from temperatures in the mid-80s. For those not liking it too hot, avoid March, when temperatures can climb to around 100 degrees. In a helpful conceit, Bodu Hithi is an hour ahead of Malé time in order to maximise the sunlight hours.

Taking up the offer to view the other distinctive accommodation, we appreciated why a British couple who have stayed 10 times have declined the offer of a free upgrade from their Island Villa. The least expensive room category, it boasts a circular bathtub as the eye-catching centrepiece.

A romantic destination is not really ideal for children and a three-person limit applies to each residence. But the few kids we saw were having a good time, taking full advantage of all the water sports as well as the volleyball and tennis courts. And if short of a tennis partner or volleyball opponents, Bodu Hithi staff members will step up.

The resort also offers "extras", like a fishing expedition, a beach barbecue, a sunset cruise or a private screening.

There is also a weekly excursion to Malé, which is hardly a teeming metropolis, but Manhattan in rush hour compared to the resort. Sights include an historic mosque built from white coral, the rulers' residences and a collection of cannon recalling the days of a British military presence. The liveliest spots are the bustling fruit and fish markets, although it is disconcerting to see the freshest catch still squirming.

But the incentive to venture beyond the resort is minimal. The raison d'etre for the Maldives is, after all unwinding amid the most idyllic scenery and in the most luxurious accommodation. With both on tap at Coco Palm, why would you want to go anywhere else.

Let a train take you back to the days of the Raj

Jenni Frazer — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 13:43:57 +0000

There is nothing like a train, as the old song nearly had it. Just how true that is I am about to learn. Cruise ship old hands will know the joy of not having to pack and unpack for a multi-centre holiday. Now the last word in luxury travel in India, the Maharajas' Express has launched itself as a palatial hotel on wheels and my home for a glorious week.

The first joint public-private venture between Indian Railways and travel firm Cox & Kings, the Maharajas' Express cost $50 million to build. It embarks on various journeys through India, romantic, ravishing to the eye and fabulous for its treasures and not, it must be said, the India of backpackers and gap years: from one's first sight of the turbaned and jodhpur-ed staff at Delhi's Safdarjung train station, this is the nearest thing to a return to the Raj.

As quickly became apparent, life for passengers on this train is red carpets, a garland of fresh flowers at every stop and the application of a scarlet bindi in the centre of one's forehead. We got to love the garlands; less so the bindi which tends to smudge in the heat.

But hey, who cares about bindis when there is a train to explore? Cabins are beautifully appointed with serious attention to detail: safe, wi-fi connection, flat-screen TV, ensuite bathroom (some have a bath tub) and a valet for each carriage. There are two dining cars where, yes, the cutlery is gold, the charger plates are gold and even the butter dish is gold.

I could really, really, get to like this. There are two bars, and two immaculately dressed barmen, one of whom confides that he watched Tom Cruise in Cocktail to learn bottle-tossing tricks.

The trip I took was between Delhi and Mumbai, with embarkation alternating between the two cities. Those who embark in Delhi start at the Taj Mahal in Agra, arguably the world's most romantic monument, built by Shah Jahan in 1632 for his late wife, Mumtaz. The Taj can be a disappointing experience, from the necessarily high level of security to get into the grounds, to the teeming thousands strolling around and the relentless hawkers flogging postcards and fridge magnets. The Maharajas' Express does its best to get round this by providing dedicated guides for this - and all - its expeditions, and builds in a delicious afternoon tea in the grounds of the adjoining Taj Khema hotel which has spectacular views of the iconic Taj.

Tea was a chance to get to know my 83 fellow passengers. Couple one (let's call them Mr and Mrs Minnesota) are Americans with homes there, Vail and Florida, and a yacht in the Caribbean. Then there's an artist who is a dead ringer for Sonny Bono, who bought the biggest, blingiest, ruby and diamond medallion you ever did see, then wore it with great panache. The Russian couple who spoke no English, and were invariably accompanied by a translator, were an endless source of fascination for the whole train. Mr Russia is tall and glowering, and allegedly owns mines; Mrs Russia is tiny, blonde and beautiful, with a penchant for wildly inappropriate outfits which thrill passengers, staff and locals.

On day two, we rise at five to visit the Ranthambore safari park. Everyone is agog to see tigers - the game reserve has 36 - but due to the exceptionally good monsoon rains, there is plenty of water at the top of the hills, so, except the ubiquitous monkeys, few animals (and no tigers) come down to our level. Then it was back on the train for the journey to Jaipur, the legendary pink city, with its gorgeous Palace of the Winds, now just a facade, and on to the beautiful Amber Fort, towering above Jaipur and offering astonishing views.

As we clamber around the fort, our guide explains that the doorways, barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through, were designed to stop marauding hordes storming the palace in a pack.

We end the day watching a polo match with players on elephants instead of ponies, and finding more on-board friends: a group of Brazilians, a Pole and some jolly Americans. By this time we are getting used to the superb meals, lashings of rather good Indian champagne and the diverse choice of vegetarian food wherever we stop.

We are, of course, somewhat insulated from the real India. Due to foresight, sunlight and security, the train has tinted windows; we can see out but others can't see in. When a train is alongside us, and we see the hundreds of people squashed on top of each other, it is chastening. It is the same when we venture into cities during our trip. Avoiding the cows and water buffaloes which roam the streets presenting endless hazards to traffic, we see scores of beggars, including tiny children.

The days fly by in a blur of eye-popping colour, palaces, treasures, maharajas and music. Almost every expedition offers a group of Indian musicians who break out in raucous welcome as we disembark or, as on one memorable evening, accompany us as we sway on camel carts through the rural villages of Bikaner, ending with a magical supper on the sand dunes where a girl in traditional folk costume performs astonishing dances.

We passengers are, by now, bonding big time. Groups and alliances form and re-form; one bar becomes the "cool" bar into which we all squash, while the other is virtually ignored. Purchases from our expeditions are displayed, cooed over and examined by everyone. Gossip is exchanged.

And on the last night, we all dress up: the men in white Nehru suits, the women in gem-coloured saris that we are wrapped into by the wonderful guest relations staff. Even the Russians let their hair down. Bollywood music plays and the entire train is on its feet, rocking through the sultry Indian night as the Maharajas' Express glides sedately down the rails to Mumbai. This is one train journey you never want to end.

Goa: The hippie trail ends

Tue, 29 Dec 2009 12:40:53 +0000

Idyllic but flawed would fairly sum up Goa’s reputation. On the one hand reliably perfect, warm weather when the rest of the northern hemisphere is in deep winter; on the other, a haven for crazy hedonists and party animals.

The latter has put off many potential tourists. However in the last 10 years Goa has seen a transformation. The weather is still the same — absolutely gorgeous, with lovely beaches and interesting markets — but the combination of legislation to restrict the most annoying parties and anti-social individuals, with an upsurge in the alternative health facilities, has seen Goa become a far more acceptable destination.

If you want to combine physical and mental well being with the Goa experience there is almost too much on offer, from yoga centres and retreats, to spas with everything from Thai massage to Ayurvedic treatments, as well as a wide variety of accommodation options from boutique hotels to basic beachside huts.

The new Goa — reclaimed for the ancient Indian arts of yoga and ayerveda, versus its former incarnation as a place for drug-crazed hippies — has been welcomed by tourists and locals alike. Taxi drivers and guest house owners infinitely prefer the new tourists for their honesty and conscientious habits — like going to bed early, and paying their bills.

Purple Valley Yoga Centre, in the north of Goa, is unique among yoga centres because it is run on Western lines by Westerners, meeting Westerners preference for certain foods, organic salads, filtered water and comfortable beds. But it is not a soft option: there are early morning yoga classes six days a week and afternoon workshops on four afternoons. It is also ideal for observant Jews because not only is Saturday the day off for yoga, but the food is strictly vegetarian. And it is not just nut roast and coleslaw — the menus are delicious and varied.

The level of experience was wide-ranging, from complete beginners (me) to those who have been doing it daily for 20 years. The objective of two weeks at Purple Valley is to instill the basics, so that students can take the right habits and knowledge back to their lives in the West.

Those who are experienced can develop further.For the record, the yogis were not all diehard hippies with long toenails and hairy armpits. They were an eclectic, international group of professional men and women and not a hairy armpit — at least not among the females.

Purple Valley would not suit those for whom a holiday means lying on a beach for two weeks, but it’s not too onerous either, with an infinity pool set in tropical gardens for relaxing between classes. The staff are always smiling and helpful, quietly ensuring Purple Valley runs smoothly and guests’ needs are always met.

The north of Goa — where Purple Valley is located — attracts an interesting selection of visitors: gap-year back-packers, retirees, Israelis seeking solace after military service, those in search of a spiritual path, the Russians, and a few hippies and druggies who haven’t heard about the “new” Goa.

Taxis in Goa are cheap and readily available, but for the brave scooters can be rented for around £1.50 a day. It’s a lot of fun but not for the faint-hearted. In Goa there is only one rule of the road: Keep your hand glued to the horn because the horn means “I am here”; “Get out of the way”; “I am about to overtake (even if it is on a blind bend)”; “I am coming up on the inside”; “You are going too slow”; “You are going too fast”; “Cows ahead”… In Goa, you drive without a horn at your peril.

For the shopaholics there are great markets. A must is the Saturday night market, which has wonderful food (if you are wary, stick to cooked food); crafts made by locals and hippies, and great live music.

The local market is on a Friday in Mapusa about 10 mins from Purple Valley, with fruit, cashew nuts, local spices, antique replicas, old coins and whatever the locals feel like bringing to sell. On Wednesday there is a bigger and more cosmopolitan market on Anjuna Beach. You will encounter some overzealous market traders but in the main the locals are laid-back, friendly and respectful. Glasses are also cheaper in Goa. They take a week from initial order and my varifocals cost £45.

There is so much to do and see that you need to be selective — especially if you are keen to have a real yoga experience. Some of my fellow guests at Purple Valley didn’t leave the retreat. They spent their days doing yoga, lounging by the pool and sampling the delights of the on-site Ayurvueda beauty and treatment centre. And who could blame them; you could have a full body massage, manicure, pedicure and eyebrow threading all for £22.

Istanbul: The empire strikes out

Anthea Gerrie — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 14:48:26 +0000

One effect of Istanbul’s stint as European Capital of Culture 2010 will be an opportunity to showcase its shiny modern face. The city, best known for ancient Byzantine and Ottoman splendours, is actually a hip, thrusting metropolis with great designer shopping and a burgeoning contemporary art scene. But with a famous historic skyline dominated by domes, minarets and fortified Ottoman palaces, 21st century Istanbul remains largely unknown.

Standing beneath the dazzling dome of Aya Sofya and feeling the vibes that still emanate from one of the world’s great houses of prayer, it’s easy to understand why Istanbul has been a spiritual magnet for nearly two millennia. This city, considered holy by both Christians and Moslems, has also been home to a vibrant Jewish community, and while Sufism is now outlawed, there is a growing New Age contingent.

As well as its religious tolerance, Istanbul is special for the colourful exoticism which comes with its unique geography. The former Constantinople is the only city with one foot in Europe, the other in Asia, and the mix of east and west, ancient and edgily modern, is a heady and vibrant one which recalls the Tel Aviv-Jaffa combination.

There’s no denying the appeal of the old town, with its mediaeval bazaars and sumptuous Turkish baths as well as ancient churches, and first-timers should get those under their belts. Aya Sofya, one of the earliest Christian churches before it became one of Islam’s holiest mosques, is now a deconsecrated museum which continues to exude a spiritual atmosphere, and what’s left of the gold religious mosaics the Ottomans desecrated is worth admiring. The architecture is the big pull of the Blue Mosque, whose multiple domes, minarets and courtyard are more impressive than the interior.

A morning in the historic district should culminate in a browse round the wonderful Spice Market followed by a typical lunch of aubergine, tomato, cucumber, chick-pea and yogurt mezzes at Hamdi next door.

No-one should leave the old city without visiting Topkapi, the Ottoman palace which is Istanbul’s top attraction. It’s worth buying an extra ticket for the Harem. Its sumptuous surroundings belie the fact that the beauties who lived here at the sultans’ pleasure were prisoners, often brutally dispatched when the ruler of the day had had enough, while favourites — often scouted for royal stardom the way models are today on the streets — acquired power and riches.

The unluckiest, who served Ibrahim the Mad, were tied in sacks and drowned in the Bosphorous when their charms faded.

While the complex of palace buildings and surrounding gardens is a general delight, especially when the tulips are in bloom, don’t leave Topkapi before seeing the Treasury, which contains the famous gem-encrusted dagger and other crown jewels.

Before leaving the Old Town, you may also want to shop for pashminas, gold jewellery and souvenirs at the Grand Bazaar. Here, a Turkish Bond Street has been fashioned in the main alley of a 500-year-old building which leads off into an enticing warren of ancient aisles. Many of the cheaper pashminas are made in China; head for Sehrazat for some of the best local examples, made of beautiful printed or embroidered silk. Do save plenty of lira for the new town, though. It has its very own Portobello in Cukurcuma, an up and coming area where wonderful retro relics sit side by side with Turkish antiques, alternative designer gear and locally-made jewellery. Head for Faik Pasa Yokusu, lined with enticing bric-a-brac emporia — Popcorn is the most famous — and visit Aziz across the road for colourful, affordable fabrics and jewellery from Turkestan. Visit Buka higher up the hill for original clothes designed in-store.

While Taksim is surrounded by hotels, it’s nicer to stay right on the water, and if the budget permits, look no further than the Ciragan Palace, an old royal residence whose modern addition forms the bulk of the city’s finest hotel.

The best rooms offer wraparound views of the Bosphorous, with the old city skyline to one side, the Ortakoy mosque and bridge to the other. Palatial suites and a traditional Ottoman restaurant occupy the main building, and there is also a fabulous ancient marble hammam which can be visited. Today the Turkish bath experience is delivered in privacy and comfort in the hotel’s modern subterranean hammam and spa.

The Ciragan is situated between two of the best bits of modern Istanbul - the city’s equivalent of the Tate Modern on the road into town, which absolutely demands a visit, and Ortakoy a 10-minute stroll in the other direction. Ortakoy, a sort of Istanbulli Hampstead, is sublime on weekends, when the indoor-outdoor House Cafe on the water is hopping day and night, and there is a great weekend crafts market.

It’s back to business as usual in Mumbai

Sharron Livingston — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 11:13:39 +0000

Very good price, very good price said the bright-eyed boy in the yellow T-shirt, who might have been an extra from multi-Oscar winning Slumdog Millionaire. He poked his head through the car window and spoke quickly, offering Lord Shiva statuettes that dangled around his neck, arms and even from his finger tips.

“Just 200 rupees”. He saw me grimace and changed tack, “Okay 100 rupees, divine price for Lord Shiva”. Such was the urgency in his dark eyes that I handed over 100 rupees for a figurine and placed it in my handbag. And before I knew it the boy was away; his yellow T-shirt luminous against the cars as he zig-zagged through them.

I was sitting in grid-locked traffic on the main artery that is the national road into the city.

It’s the same every day, with cars, buses, motorbikes and ox carts, inching their way along, but frequently stationary, giving the under-aged entrepreneurs time to ply their trade. Roads are so dense with traffic that skywalks have been erected so that pedestrians can cross safely and not slow the traffic any further.

Through the car window I could see moving swathes of colour as women shimmied along the pavements in their pink, red and orange saris, and beyond that, the contrasting grey slums of corrugated-roof homes surrounded by plush high rise offices and apartments.

This is Mumbai, and anyone who has seen Slumdog would probably be surprised that actually, Mumbai is the financial powerhouse of India, where the stock exchange is the oldest in Asia and where property is the most expensive in the whole of the subcontinent.

My cab was inching towards the legendary Taj Mahal Hotel, the building targeted by terrorists last November.

Shortly before the Muslim terrorists hit, Mumbai was enjoying a spell of almost unprecedented freedom and security. Today, though the sun is still hot and the people still hustle, there is more caution. As I approached the hotel, a flurry of uniformed security guards ushered me through airport style security. Bags and people have to be scanned. It’s the same at other major hotels too.

With a 13 per cent downtown in tourism, Mumbai is keen to be seen to be taking every measure to make its city safe. But it was difficult not to notice the boarded-up Heritage section of the hotel currently being restored.

On a wall to the right of the reception there is a new memorial, a wood carving of the tree of life and, beyond a glass wall, a poignant plaque listing all those who died in the attack.

But life goes on. We all — thankfully — have short memories and many (especially we Brits) are far more resilient than travel industry pundits give us credit for.

Tourists visiting the home of Bollywood would still do well to start their exploration at the Taj as it ideally located for the bars and restaurants where those in the know would expect to spot a celebrity or two. And of course, for the best sights.

Directly opposite the hotel, peering over the Arabian Sea, is the iconic monumental arch, the Gateway of India. This symbol of both old Bombay and modern Mumbai was built in the ornate Indo-Saracenic style, and commemorates a 1911 visit by George V and Queen Mary.

The arch stands at an angle on the square perched at the edge of the water, where dozens of colourful leisure boats bob around.

I took a 50-minute trip aboard one of them to Elephant Island. From the harbour, a miniature train took me to the Elephanta caves. Not really caves, but hugely impressive carvings in the rock of Lord Shiva and other Hindu gods, whose story is told in a series of tableaux. A row of pillars give it the look of a temple. There is no particular reason why sixth-century kings decided to create this magnificent structure other than for art’s sake and the love of their Hindu gods.

Back on dry land, behind the Taj Mahal Hotel is Colaba, one of Mumbai’s most colourful and buzzy shopping districts. You can buy everything here, from sari fabric to sapphires, and mother-of-pearl inlaid knick-knacks to mangoes. Haggling is a way of life and expected.

The British arrived in the 17th century and it’s easy to see British influence in the architecture. The most obvious example is Victoria Terminal station renamed Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus after British rule ended in 1947.

A world heritage site, it is a living, breathing train station, through which three million people pass each day on 1,000 trains, making it the busiest and largest station on earth.

Its sheer size is impressive — think St Pancras and quadruple it — but the beauty of the station is awesome. Extravagantly ornamented, it combines the neo-gothic style of the early Victorian era with elements of traditional Indian architecture.

Mumbai is crammed with examples of Victorian and Art Deco architecture, much of it flaking off and shabby, but the city’s real charm is its people — especially its working people. No-one should miss the Mahalaxmi Dhobi Ghat. It is probably the world’s biggest open-air laundry and is nothing short of a theatrical spectacular.

Thousands of men from the Dhobi caste wash a million items of clothing in hundreds of soap-and-water filled concrete troughs, beating them clean then hanging them on washing lines (colour coded to denote ownership), and ironing each item before returning it to its owner the same day.

Then there are the dabbawallahs, the army of packed-lunch delivery boys dressed in white robes and white Gandhi hats, who descend on the city every day.

Each morning they pick up nearly 200,000 home-cooked meals from the outer suburbs, heat them at a central HQ and then deliver them at around 12.30pm to city workers wanting home-cooked food.

The most famous road in Mumbai is the coastal road, Marine Drive dotted with Art Deco buildings, which arcs out from the city along the shore of the Arabian Sea from Nariman Point to Chowpatty Beach and on to Malabar Hill. The promenade and beach at Chowpatty is a popular daily venue for couples and families who head there in the late afternoon as the sun cools and dips.

Young couples sit, entwined, on the promenade wall smooching in the twilight while mothers keep their children from the water’s edge and fathers referee games of cricket or football.

Being a solo visitor, I crossed the road to find a patch of wall of my own to enjoy the final moments of the setting sun on the edge of this magnificent city.

Travel facts

Somak (www.somak.com; 0208423 3000) offers three nights at the Taj Mahal Hotel (00 800 4588 1825, www.tajhotels.com), including breakfast and flights from £959. Kingfisher (www.flykingfisher.com) offer direct flights from Heathrow from £344, including taxes Le Passage to India (00 91 11 42795241; www.lepassagetoindia.com) offers car and driver from £16 for a half-day. Lonely Planet’s Best of Mumbai, (£7.99) offers pocket-size essential info and maps

Jewish Mumbai

The first Jews arrived from Judea on the Maharashtra shores near Mumbai 2,100 years ago, forming the Bene Israel community; l A second wave arrived from the Middle East 250 years ago. l The Gate of Mercy shul, built in 1796, is the oldest of the city’s nine active synagogues, but the easiest to visit is the delightful little Keneseth Eliyahoo in the central Fort district, with its sky-blue pillars, stained glass and chandeliers.

Mumbai has no kosher restaurants but the community is anxious to offer hos-pitality, particularly on Shabbat (www.kosherdelight.com)

Turkey: Enjoy a bazaar experience

Jenni Frazer — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 16:04:12 +0000

How far would you go for a bath? A Turkish bath, that is. If you’re John Travolta, the answer is pretty far. The Hollywood A-lister flew all the way to Istanbul for the opportunity of a shvitz in the Galatasaray Hamam, the city’s oldest Turkish bath, dating from 1481.

He was spotted propping up the reception desk at the Four Seasons Sultanahmet, where, coincidentally, I was brunching with girlfriends in the beautifully manicured courtyard gardens. “John,” I said, “sit down. Take the weight off. Come and join us for this fantastic brunch (only 99 Turkish lira per person, about £40, worth every penny).” Did he take any notice...? Not really, it has to be admitted.

Still, I had other things to think about. For the credit crunch aware, travelling outside the euro zone is now really the only way to get that elusive “I have scored a bargain” feeling. So there are few better places to go than Istanbul, perfect for a long weekend.

It fulfils the essential “girlfriends on a break” criteria; not too far away (just over three hours’ flying time), English widely spoken, terrific and accessible sights to give you that veneer of caring about culture, a civilised city, and yes, extraordinary shopping.

Every traveller to Istanbul knows about the Grand Bazaar, with its hundreds of shops and sharp-eyed, multi-lingual (and multi-currency) shopkeepers. For many people the Grand Bazaar (closed on Sundays) is frankly overwhelming. Though the lanes are signposted and nominally the bazaar is split up into different areas (leather, antiques, jewellery, pashminas), in practice many of the shops appear to meld into one giant Woolworths-of-blessed-memory.

An ideal shopping companion, we found, was the cardboard concertina that is the Luxe Guide to Istanbul. Close consultation led us down some promising alleyways and steered us away from sharp practice. Many of the recommendations are right on the money, such as starting your assault on the Grand Bazaar with a soothing pit-stop at the Fes Cafe, an Istanbul institution, or its advice on the House Cafe (“deeply lovely, Soho-style, relaxed and homely atmos-kaff”). Luxe is also extremely useful for drawing your attention away from dull shopping malls (Istanbul boasts several mega-malls, each more cavernous and bland than the next) and instead to chic areas such as Nişantaşi, the hub of which is the four-floor Beymen department store, a place which makes Harvey Nicks look like the aforesaid Woolies. Each floor sussurates with designer labels and prices designed to give you a nose-bleed — but you can’t deny the pleasure of looking.

Sprinkled up and down Abdi Ipekçi Street in the heart of this district are various outposts of the Jewish-owned Vakko clothing and accessories empire: Vakko men’s, Vakko women’s, Vakko shoes, bags… you get the picture.

Istanbul is home to three major football teams, Besiktas, Galatasaray, and Fenerbahce, all of which appeared to be playing on a daily basis during my visit. Football mania and a general Ottoman impatience is a lethal combination which gives rise to the worst traffic jams I have ever seen in my life. Add to that the occasional closure of one of the two great bridges which connect the two parts of the city over the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara, and you are looking at traffic meltdown.

Turkish taxi-drivers need watching closely: they are nippy and seemingly fearless, weaving their yellow cabs in and out, but — particularly if you are staying somewhere nice — watch that they put the meter on or they are liable to hike up the fare. If you’re planning to see the sights, start early and try to get the concierge or receptionist at your hotel to agree a price with the driver.

By far the most unusual sight in the city is the Basilica Cistern, first laid out in the year 532, during the rule of Justinian, to supply water to the city. It is a truly extraordinary structure and a miracle of Byzantine engineering: 336 columns, each 26 foot high, hold up the roof of the cistern, while just discernible in the gloom from the walkways are hundreds of fish, great and small. The Cistern makes a change from many of the other, well-trodden tourist sites: just wear something you don’t mind getting wet, as the roof is drippy, and wear non-slip shoes.

Just behind the Grand Bazaar you’ll find the Arasta Bazaar, a long dreamy street lined with slightly unusually stocked shops, a bit different from the normal tourist tat. I read on the plane of one of the shops which specialises in unbelievably silly hats, made of felt and often looking as though they had escaped from the Teletubbies’ costume department. It turns out that Ottoman-era Turks were proud of their silly hats, many of which feature strange spouts or peculiar fringes. They are, it has to be said, the antithesis of sophisticated, but you might find a fun present for any children in your life.

Much cooler is Iznik, with exquisite tiles and ceramics which are the work of master craftsmen and women — very desirable but very expensive. However, with two shops in the Arasta Bazaar and a four-floor gallery around the corner from the Four Seasons Sultanahmet hotel, Iznik is well used to tourists — and they ship.

Next door to the Iznik gallery is Ugur, whose cards proclaim it to be a leather and jewellery store but which is, in fact, a dedicated leather warehouse. A much more pleasant experience than buying in the Grand Bazaar, the staff will make you what you want, to measure, and they, too, will post your purchase directly to you at home.

If you’ve shopped till you drop during the day, you will definitely want somewhere cool to stay. Our base was the luxurious and beautiful new Four Seasons at the Bosphorus, in the Besiktas district (about 15 minutes drive from the main tourist areas). The 166-room hotel was once a 19th-century Ottoman palace, known as Atik Pasha. Though there are two new wings, the elegance of the original building remains, particularly the sweeping driveway to the entrance.

With its sprawling riverside location and infinity pool (open April to October), it could not be more different from its sister hotel in the old city, Sultanahmet, yet it remains distinctively Four Seasons: understated luxury and fantastic service.

Our elegant, spacious room, facing on to the city gardens, had huge beds with the best pillows I have ever slept on and a giant ensuite bathroom with a seriously powerful walk-in shower.

The hotel also has a gorgeous spa, featuring a traditional hammam alongside spa treatments. Spreadeagled on a tiled platform while a tiny but powerful masseuse smoothed, pummelled and chucked water over me, I felt appropriately pampered.

Aqua, the hotel’s main restaurant, offers a vast array of Mediterranean and Turkish dishes, including a terrific vegetarian and fish selection. In summer, the pool bar and grill offers barbecued fish cooked outside; and the lobby bar, inside the main palace building, provides every delicious drink you’ve ever heard of and many that you haven’t. You may never want to go out.

Travel facts

The Four Seasons at the Bosphorus (00800 6488 6488; www.fourseasons.com/bosphorus) offers double rooms from ¤300 (£271) per night. Guests at sister property, the Four Seasons Sultanahmet can use the pool at the Bosphorus hotel free of charge. British Airways (www.ba.com; 0844 4930 787) has flights to Istanbul from £132 return; Easyjet (www.easyjet.com) has flights to Istanbul’s Sabiha Gokcen airport (about 90 minutes’ drive from the city centre) from £32.99 one way in February. Luxe Guide to Istanbul, £4.99

Jewish Istanbul

● Jews from the Iberian peninsula and Italy fled to the Ottoman Empire, many settling in Constantinople, Istanbul’s historic name
● Around 17,000 Jews live in Istanbul today. The city has 18 functioning synagogues, the oldest, Ahrida built in the 15th century. The largest synagogue is Neve Shalom
●Today’s community is mainly based in Karaköy which has a Jewish Primary school and a Jewish Museum. Jewish heritage tours offered by: www. toursistanbul.com/jewishheritagetour