Alexandria abides in many places to visit and beautiful beaches to walk on their sand, but I’m sure that Bibliotheca Alexandrina is the first thing that gets in your mind when I first mention Alexandria. Bibliotheca Alexandrina was reopened in 2002 in a brand new catchy design and in a big festival that fits the great event.

Taking a look at the new Bibliotheca Alexandrina we’ll see that it contains:

The main Library that hold millions and millions of books and divided into many sections like rare books and special collections, arts and literature, history , internet archive, multimedia and audio- visual materials, daily newspapers and magazines, and many more. There are also Permanent Museums about impressions of Alexandria, Arabic Calligraphy, the history of printing, etc. Of course we can’t forget the books and gifts shop if you want to get a special souvenir mixed with some culture and art.

Outside we will find the Conference Center that also has temporary art galleries held there. The amazing Planetarium where you can see shows about outer space and feel like you’re really not on earth. For children we have the Exploratorium to refresh their knowledge of science. Moving to my favorite spot the Cluturama, a culture panorama with 9 screens that gets you inside the history of Egypt over 5000 years if not more .

All of that and more interesting stuff will be waiting for you once you get into the library. So why don’t you pack your stuff and give it a visit?! It worth going to.

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The heat sears my neck as I turn over my camera equipment at the heavily guarded checkpoint. No photos are allowed of what we’re about to see.  Between the heat and my nakedness I lack the proper anticipation for what lies in the beehive of caves ahead.

Sullen, I fall to the back of the small group as we enter the first cave. I’d blown off the guide’s introduction, deservedly missing important clues about what to expect (I did catch the part about he being the only one allowed to have a flashlight — seemed unfair).

The group brakes en mass at the mouth of what appears a cavernous tunnel. Ducking behind and squeezing to the side, I move around into an empty space and take several steps. I’m blessedly alone in the cool, refreshing darkness. My eyes adjust. I’m nose to nose with something the size of my house protruding towards me. Colors and scale come into focus and a smile breaks my stony face.

An UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Mogao Caves are part of a system of 492 Buddhist grottoes carved into cliffs along the Silk Road at the far western end of the Great Wall. Paintings and sculpture of a quantity and size I struggled to grasp, the caves contain one of the greatest repositories of Buddhist art in the world. Manuscripts alone approximate 50,000. It’s estimated the artwork could fill 15 miles of gallery space.

At its pinnacle the site had 18 monasteries, 1400 monks and nuns, and numerous artists, calligraphers, and translators. The construction of the caves spanned 10 dynasties. Generally agreed to have been founded in AD 366, the collapse of trade after the Yuan dynasty left the 1700 meters of grottoes and a millennium of art untouched for centuries as the Gobi desert took hold.

The hidden treasure went undiscovered until the early 1900’s when Wang Yuanlu, a Chinese Taoist appointed himself guardian of the temples.Yuanlu discovered a walled-up containment area holding hordes of manuscripts. He proceeded to sell these for a pittance to Aurel Stein a Hungarian archaeologist, who then discovered the Diamond Sutra, the world’s oldest dated printed text, along with 40,000 other scrolls (all removed by gradually winning the confidence of Yuanlu, the Taoist caretaker).

Word got out and the European archaeologists descended in 1910 laying claim. Greed ran amok. Bits and pieces of the discovery were sold and scattered all over the world while wall murals and other permanent works were destroyed in the removal process. Between the plundering of archaeologists, the Chinese themselves, a few Muslims, and Russian troops who intentionally destroyed and defaced some of the art, a fair amount remains to be enjoyed in its original and rightful environment.

While various art objects can be viewed today in the British Museum, the British Library, the Srinagar Museum, and the National Museum, New Delhi, there is but one way to see the Mogao Caves. Trek to the far Western end of the Great Wall, walk into the dark coolness and open your eyes to see their occupants staring back at you .

Photo by Tammie Dooley

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Gràcia Arts Project is a small, lively art gallery situated right at the heart of Barcelona.

The gallery is run by a growing association of over 60 artists, designers, photographers, makers, writers, film-makers and performers.
Though it’s called Gràcia Arts Project, because that’s where its roots lay, the gallery is in Barrio Gótico, immediately adjacent to the Generalitat (Catlunyan government HQ). The association has a good multi-national mix, and includes members originally from the U.S., U.K., Ireland, Italy, Netherlands as well as Catalunya and Spain.

The exhibitions change every two weeks. The gallery also hosts music, poetry, film, spoken word and multi-media events every now and then.
It’s a good spot to visit to get a good, up close feel for the range, quality and sensibility of art being produced in the city right now.
I enjoy going along to the exhibition openings and closings – informal cava fueled affairs which spill out into the street – to meet and chat with some very talented, sparky artists.

There’s an air of creative possibility, and the association has exciting plans for a much larger arts center, including performance spaces and studios, to be based in Gracia. The association is very open to ideas and is looking to form creative partnerships with other artist-run projects across Europe.
Check out their website, take a tour of the virtual gallery, and maybe sign up to receive regular e-mail bulletins and invites to openings, closings and surprise events.

By Bill Sinclair from SpottedByLocals.com/barcelona
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Among a variety of things I loved about my five-day visit to Barbados, a highlight stands out: the stirring sculptures at the Gallery at Lancaster Great House. The fascinating pieces made of coral stone and plaster by the resident artist Jerome Radigois from Martinique dot the gorgeous garden of the pink-colored house.

On view until May 30th, this alfresco show is a celebration of the human being. What particularly touched me was the solitude of each figure, even those in pairs and groups. The artist describes his work as “an intuition process, meeting with one’s self, a rediscovered body, an act of love, a universe materialized, an ancestral combat, a spring of life.”

Also currently on display inside this beautifully restored private home is the show “From the Antique to the Contemporary: Barbadian Furniture from 1680-2009″, nicely curated and informative of local crafts and materials, with sturdy and elegant mahogany featuring as the star wood. Previous shows at Lancaster Great House have included works by international and Barbadian painters and photographers, many raising funds for various charities.

A fantastic place to visit if you want a dose of local art in a stunning environment, the Gallery at Lancaster Great House is free and open Tuesday to Saturday from 10am till 4pm. In addition to rotating exhibitions, it also has a small but lovely selection of art pieces and souvenirs at the gift shop.

Visit everthenomad.com for more by Anja Mutic

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This Art Gallery is definitely a must for all the design-addicted and art lovers! The Triennale Gallery is located in Sempione Park, just beside Castello Sforzesco.

Besides the wonderful location, and the perfect set up of modern pieces of art, what I do really love is having a cup of coffee at the DesignCafè, very white, very design!

By Alessandra Nigro, from SpottedbyLocals.com/milan
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On a mid-February afternoon, as I was finalizing guidebook research in the unassuming Altiplano town of Oruro in Bolivia, I made my way to the last stop on the itinerary – Casa Arte Taller Cardozo Velasquez (Junín 738; catcarve.blogspot.com). I had read about this private museum/studio of a local artist family and it peaked my interest. In fact, I was longing for something more serene and offbeat in Oruro, to take me away from the water bombs, spray guns and screaming kids leading up to Carnaval.

The moment I walked into the courtyard of the Cardozo Velasquez family house, I knew I found that special place I was looking for. Gonzalo, the head of the family – an intense man exuding subtle authority – welcomed me into their world. One of the five daughters, a sweet well-spoken teenager, gave me a tour of the workshop where they produce their work. Gonzalo’s sculptures are all over the courtyard – with a towering piece devoted to Pachamama (Mother Earth, according to Andean beliefs) at the center – as is beautiful pottery made by his wife María and paintings, photographs, collages and drawings by the five daughters: Nayra, Wara, Tani, Lulhy and Kurmi. A plethora of unusual art objects by family and friends grace the whimsical little house.

After the tour, we sat down in the cozy library and talked for hours over tea made with fresh medicinal herbs from the garden. I learned about the Sunday morning workshop that the family has been doing with the children of Oruro – they go out into the streets and paint with kids, producing fun colorful canvases. On each first Friday of the month they hold a k’oa ceremony in the courtyard of the house, a ritual blessing to the Pachamama in which a “mesa” is burned over coals. The “mesa” consists of incense, decorated sugar cubes, native herbs and various other objects, depending on what you’re asking Pachamama for. This ritual is open to anyone who happens to be in Oruro on a first Friday and has an open mind and respect for the Andean culture. So do stop by if in Oruro. I wish I could have stayed for a k’oa.

It’s easy to get lost in this magical world of the Cardozo Velasquez family. As I walked away, packed with lots of new thoughts and ideas, I felt renewed, inspired and somehow more in touch with the world around me. To see a family so deeply rooted in their surroundings and connected with the traditions of their corner of the world gave me a sense of comfort and a surge of creativity. It felt like accidentally stumbling into a parallel universe – one that you leave physically but, spiritually, it stays with you.

Visit everthenomad.com for more by Anja Mutic

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Growing up in the sticks, I never imagined that I’d ever get to see the Pyramids of Giza, let alone crawl inside one of them. But let’s back up for a moment (have you guys gotten the impression by now that I can’t tell anything in a linear fashion?) – I was pretty much exhausted from my first day running around Cairo that I had plans to “just lie down for an hour” which turned into 12. Things like that happen from time to time.

I had an ambitious plan – get up early and go hit the Pyramids before it got too hot out. Temperatures in Cairo were in the 90’s range with the sun and the dryness sucking the water out of you. I loaded up with 2 liters of water with plans to buy more while I was there and left the hotel around 7:20am in order to catch them as they opened at 8am. The upside of staying close to the Pyramids is that I thought I could walk it, which upon retrospect, isn’t the smartest thing I’ve done (in a long line of stupid things I’ve done). As I’m fond of saying, the map showed that it was “only two inches” away and it was a good 30 minute walk.

Like anything in Egypt, there’s the general admission and always additional entry fees to all the cool stuff. It was 50 Egyptian Pounds (US$9) to get into the Pyramids and another 100 Egyptian Pounds to go enter Cheops. I paid for my separate admission fee and queued up like a good tourist. There was no photography allowed (they had people confiscating and holding cameras) along with wanding with a handheld metal detector. It sort of ruined my day – I was so hoping that I could sneak in my pocket camera to get a shot or two. I don’t know how these ‘tards got in and took photos, but I’m jealous. Maybe things have changed.

We entered Cheops and crawled inside what amounts to a 3 foot high passageway that was probably 150 feet long and at a 40 degree incline. It made a great hike climb, considering it was by far the most humid place I’ve ever been in. My highly scientific estimate was approximately 4 billion percent humidity inside. I did score some serious cool points with my badass Fenix flashlight and lit the way. Eventually we got into the King’s Chamber, where the humidity felt like it tripled. We spent some time looking inside and it didn’t hit me until later that – holy shit, I’m in one of the Great Fucking Pyramids! Getting down was more of a hassle – it was sort of scary and a bit claustrophobic. After about 10 minutes, I got out of the Great Pyramids of Cheops, grabbed my bag, paid my baksheesh and realized that I was drenched in my own sweat. I pounded a liter of water and felt like I got my ass kicked. Also, your legs will take a pounding. Even with my awesome quads from cycling and enduring things in the past like Kilimanjaro and other long hikes, this was something new. My legs were beat and it took a few days to recover.

At the back of the Great Pyramid of Cheops is the Solar Boat Museum. It was designed to carry Khufu’s mummy across the Nile for burial. I was amazed at the level of craftsmanship that was displayed and even more impressed by the renovation of the boat itself. It was pretty cool. When people packed for the afterlife, they didn’t leave things behind. I only wish someone would bury me with a Santa Cruz 52’ or a J130 for the afterlife so I can go sail when I want to. His boat was roughly 150 feet long. Some guys get all the luck.

Chefre and Menakure were equally cool Pyramids. It’s hard to say something original about them, but I sat and took it all in. I wondered what it would be like to be here during the building and what it cost in terms of lives, materials and time. I’ve read a good number of books on pyramid building theories, essays on what comprised the workforce, and the effort involved (whomever calculated the effort in calories is a lot cooler than I am.) It must have been something to sit and watch this during construction with the thousands of workers involved, and the thousands of people who supported the laborers. It would have been something to just sit and watch.

After a few hours of walking around (mental note: The Pyramids aren’t really walkable, and you’re asking for trouble if you decide that riding a camel/horse is awesome.) Like any of the cool open-air museums that Egypt has to offer, they also have people who are more than willing to pose for photos, let you into “closed” things and lead you around as impromptu tour guides for cash. If you’re planning a tour of the Giz Plateau, it’s probably a good idea to bring small notes (LE10, or $1.80) for baksheesh. Everyone’s up for it, including the police. In a way, it’s much like Chicago – a favor or a few offered cigarettes might get the police to turn a blind eye or cut you some slack.

The Sphinx was pretty damn slick. I’m not entirely sure what it was to represent, but again the craftsmanship was definitely something to behold. The problem that I had was I’m trying to deconstruct and then reconstruct this from an engineer’s perspective, then expand that into project planning. So I’m wondering – what sort of person got to work on the Sphinx? How long did it take? How many people? What were they trying to build and why? In a way, spending time with the Pyramids and the Sphinx were maddening. Every question I had answered had 20 more come up.

I left the Giza Plateau after about 6 hours and exited near the Sphinx. And as fate or fortune smiled upon me, I stumbled across a Pizza Hut. It clearly was a sign, so I made a beeline towards the PH and had a nice meal, making it my 22nd country I’ve had PH in. It’s quite sad, but it hit the spot.

I got back to the hotel, crashed by the pool, tried to push fluids as best as I could and took a taxi to Giza Station to catch my overnight train to Luxor. I was looking forward to an overnight train ride – I had my own cabin (I was willing to share, but I didn’t get a bunkmate) and managed to get a decent night’s sleep. I was thinking of the Valley of the Kings and it was time to get there.

Photo “Giza pyramids” by feelix on Flickr

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This last weekend, we escaped the city of Merida and drove one hour south to stay at the Flycatcher B&B in Santa Elena. We might as well have traveled in a time machine. The Flycatcher, owned by an American-Mayan couple, Kristine and Santiago, is a lovely collection of rooms and casitas that are clean and have all the modern amenities. But stepping outside the door of our little casita moderna was like going to another place in another time.

The town of Santa Elena is mostly on the northeast side of the road that leads to the Mayan archaeological zone of Uxmal. The Flycatcher is on the other side of the road, mercifully distant from early morning crowds of crowing roosters and late weekend night fiestas in the center of town. After a quiet morning watching birds and a grueling day ruin-hopping, we took a nap and then ventured across the road to explore the town itself. 

The town is laid out on a grid that mostly expands from the foot of a hill, which is topped by a very large church, freshly painted when we were there in a rich colonial red. The church can be seen miles outside of town… it dwarfs the buildings around it. A series of concrete landings leads up to the church from the main square, and at the top, huge stone pave the courtyard in front of the church that were placed here hundreds of years ago. 

Inside, the church was welcoming in its informality. Churches, in this part of Mexico anyway, are the center of social life and are used for everything from classes to storage. On this lazy weekend afternoon, the church held paint cans, drop cloths, ladders and scaffolding. There were also two separate groups of teenagers, sitting on the old beaten pews, chattering and laughing. At a comfortable distance from both groups, a small man sat, accompanied by a sack filled with…what? clothes? corn? The man had dark, bare, dirty feet. His clothes and his face looked lived in, wrinkled and both had seen better days. The man sat, and his feet dangled like a child’s. He didn’t appear to be praying; he didn’t watch the children, or our cameras. He just stared. And rested.

Above him soared a tall and empty arched ceiling, and on the walls, a few painted altars from decades gone by. There were some saints, tilted and a bit neglected, resting in their wooden boxes, waiting to be taken out and carried around town during the yearly fiesta. Fake flowers cheerily brightened the faded scene.

After looking around, we walked out the side door and went into the tiny state-run museum, which has a few exhibits about henequen cultivation and the mummies that were found on the grounds of the church. There’s even a sample burial site, hidden in full view beneath a thick pane of glass on the floor. Kids were resting in there, too. Talking and laughing. They probably knew someone at the door… we had to pay 30 pesos. 

Outside the sun was setting and we watched it for awhile from the top of the stairs in front of the church. As we headed home, a few stray dogs ran out from the overgrown lot next to the church and started playing together on the lawn. They didn’t look hungry or mangy or scary… just a few town dogs, enjoying the last hour of sunlight on the cool green grass.

Below the church, the town square was coming to life, as Mayan pueblos do all over the peninsula when the sun goes down. Ice cream vendors were calling out, a group of schoolgirls practiced a dance to music while their teacher clapped and instructed, and they giggled at the gringos passing by. The panadería (bakery) was closing down and their messenger was loading up his bicycle to begin his selling rounds around the village. 

As we walked out of town and crossed the road, the lights were coming on in every little home. Families were spilling out into the streets with their dogs, bicycles, motorcycles, music, televisions and food. We’ve always thought there was something magical about this time of day, and nowhere more so than in a small Yucatecan village like this one.

Photos by James and Ellen Fields

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Vasarely Museum is a place you definitely shouldn’t miss while in Budapest – it’s a rare opportunity to see a large collection of work by renowned artist and designer Victor Vasarely, often referred to as founder of Op Art. If you love colour, movement and abstract art, the chances are you will simply love it.

There are only two other places in the world where you can see a permanent collection of Vasarely’s work : Vasarely museum in his native city of Pécs (south of Hungary) and Foundation Vasarely Aix-en-Provence in France that is momentary under restoration.

For me it is THE museum to see in Budapest, and my constant source of inspiration and relaxation. Vasarely might be a bit forgotten at the moment – one reason more to check upon this great artist of the 20th century whose influence can be seen all over today’s architecture and design and who believed art should be part of a daily life. His colourful, abstract images create optical illusions and impressions of motion and space, depending on how and from where you observe.

In the museum you will see large canvases, tapestries (that took his wife 16 years to produce), acrylic glass panes – all in countless combinations of colours and forms, challenging the way we look and see. You will also be able to see his early drawings, textile designs, poster and logotype designs showing you how it all began. Walking among his work is like walking into another, virtual world, co-creating the space and experience of art. You are bound to come out recharged, refreshed and inspired.

The museum itself is a nice, quiet place, established in the part of the Zichy Palace that was restored by Vasarely and had for some time also hosted his studio. Vasarely donated large amount of his work and the museum itself to the Hungarian state. The place is not too big and it is rarely crowded, so you won’t get overwhelmed. Last time I was there I actually had the entire place to myself and couldn’t believe my luck. The museum is located near the Árpad bridge and is easily accessible by public transport (tram no.1, HÉV and numerous buses).

Photo by Maja Kaurin

By Maja Kaurin, from SpottedbyLocals.com/budapest
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I really enjoy a good art exhibition and I really enjoy good architecture. Here, at the CaixaForum, I get to enjoy both.

The building, housing five exhibition spaces, a kids’ art workshop, 350 seat auditorium, café-restaurant and museum shop, is a former state-of- the-art textiles factory.

Based on a romantic re-invention of a medieval castle, and informed by a Utopian desire to provide an inspiring and safe working environment for its workers, when opened in 1912 local people refused to believe the building was a factory.

It only served as a factory for eight years. In 1940 the abandoned building was taken over by Franco’s police as a stables and garage.The current complex opened in 2002. Take the lift to the roof for a good view of the decorative brick, tile and ironwork.

They’ve had some very good exhibitions here including one exploring Dalí’s forays into fashion, graphic design and film – including a never before screening of an animation Dalí made for Disney in the 1940s.

As well as retrospectives they also promote an interesting programme of contemporary art. They have a pretty good permanent collection – featuring works by artists such as Joseph Beuys and Sol Lewitt (who produced the permanent work you’ll see on the wall in the entrance).

The venue also promotes a lively music programme. And, when done with wandering this inspired and inspiring building, there’s a café-restaurant which serves drinks, snacks and full blown meals.

Photo by Bill Sinclair

By Bill Sinclair, from SpottedbyLocals.com/barcelona.
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