Photographs from the Guardian Eyewitness series

The last thing you'd expect in this distant corner of Scotland is a smart, buzzy outpost of Islington…5 Bank Street, Stornoway, Isle of Lewis (01851 700 026). Meal for two, with wine and service, £70-£100It is my last night on dry land, and outside the restaurant the streets of Stornoway are being washed by a hard summer rain. In the harbour the boats heave and sigh on their moorings, and at the table I sigh and frown over the menu. I want the earth to be steady beneath my feet, but nothing here is as I imagined. None of the dishes are what I expected. Surely, on the eve of going to sea I have the right to expect a little reassurance?Oh, all right. I'm not exactly Captain Ahab in pursuit of his whale. I honestly am going to sea, but only to about 10 miles of it, in search of the mighty langoustine that throng the sea beds here in their billions. Then I'll come back in again. After seven hours. Still, to this city boy, it feels like my very last night on earth.So I want my world, or, to be exact, my world view, to be secure, but the Digby Chick is having none of it. Being a patronising, effete London boy I had constructed some vivid fantasy of what a Stornoway restaurant should be: all rugged, rough-hewn wood and stone, platters of steaming seafood which have demanded less cooking than killing, perhaps at a push a jar of mayonnaise. It is the urban boy's fantasy of a coastal restaurant. Instead the Digby Chick is a smart, buzzy modern little bistro selling mostly smart, buzzy modern food, of the sort you could easily find on Islington High Street. There are clean white lines and bronze wood banquettes and slashes of modern art.And why the hell shouldn't it be like this? The menu is not without its faults, though it is specifically the menu that is the problem, rather than the food it is selling. It is over-written. Fancy restaurant words – timbales, ribbons, reductions, supremes – are splattered around as if there is something that might need apologising for in advance. (What there isn't is any mention of a Digby Chick which, according to Mr Internet, is a Canadian way with herring. No loss; it doesn't sound very nice.) On the plate though it all makes a kind of sense. "Seared curried scallops, smooth apple chutney, Stornoway black pudding and coriander crème fraîche", wasn't quite as exhausting to read as the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but bloody close. What came was two fabulous, well-seasoned local scallops, expertly seared with a disc of equally fabulous blood sausage, with its crisp exterior like the summer crust on a soft marshy bog, and a couple of sauces. Another of a mackerel fritter with seared mackerel, from the set-price menu (£23 for three courses) was let down only by a light hand with the salt. That's always solvable.If there was a fault with the main courses it was a formulaic approach. Different proteins – monkfish and lamb – came with the same heap of crushed potatoes beneath and a bird's nest of deep-fried carrot strips above. That weakness though was only obvious because they sat side by side. The local lamb, fed to fat on the heather, was a proper piece of meat from an animal that had spent its life doing stuff, and the red-wine sauce didn't overwhelm its flavour. Ditto the monkfish with its slick of seafood cream that spoke of the long boiling of shells and heads. The only part of this that shouted provincialism – and yes, I know it's a pejorative – was the crescent-shaped side dish of vegetables. I've whinged about their superfluity before so I won't bother doing so again.A sparky lime tart alongside a meringue spiced with stem ginger and coconut, and a chocolate, Baileys and Malteser cheesecake, was as moreish and pornographic as it sounds. I should find out whether it has induced type 2 diabetes within the next week or so. While that set-price menu keeps the bill under control, it is not cheap. Think Islington bistro prices. But, unlike in Islington, the clientele don't make you want to punch them, the waiting staff are attitude free and outside the door is something much nicer. I went to sea a happy man. And then I came back again.This week Jay has also been eating…Almonds roasted in their shells and feeling very rustic. Though obviously I'm not, because they came from Waitrose.Side orders: whining and diningRestaurateurs at the luxury end of the business have been complaining furiously during this recession that, while their tables are still full, the big spenders who make their businesses profitable by shelling out four- or five-figure sums for trophy wines, have disappeared. It turns out their absence may actually prove to be a boon. Investors in Asia have been piling into the fine wine market, causing prices at auction to shoot up above the historic highs reached in 2007. In short, those unsold restaurant wine cellars are fast becoming massively appreciating assets. Chalk it up in the column headed "Every cloud has… "Email Jay at jay.rayner@observer.co.uk or visit guardian.co.uk/profile/jayrayner for all his reviews in one placeFood & drinkRestaurantsRestaurantsJay Raynerguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Bristol throws open the doors to its 52 green houses on 11 and 12 SeptemberThere's knowing how much energy your home uses (see "Can I use energy and be green?" column ) and then there's doing something about it. We hear a lot about sustainable housing stock and the retrofitting of existing properties to cut emissions, but Bristol Green Doors (bristolgreendoors.org), which runs on 11 and 12 September, invites us all to take a look at 52 functioning homes across the city and find out how it feels to build and live in a real green house.The brainchild of Kate Watson and Dan Weisselberg, both studying for an MSc in architecture, environment and energy, the Green Doors weekend throws open the gates to all sorts of properties, from a 1720 cottage to zero-carbon housing-association flats. "When you do get to see greener housing stock it tends to be an empty show house," says Watson. "We wanted to do something on a massive scale where you could see houses that are works in progress."Open-house schemes have been used to great effect to raise the profile of historic and contemporary architecture; can they work for green? "You get to hear from the owners, see what they've done and most importantly be in the community. It's not just going to see a house, it's about seeing green solutions in the context of a whole neighbourhood. Some houses are inspiring and aspirational, some will give you the confidence to think, 'Oh, I could do this, too.'"Inevitably there are showstoppers, not least the wood-fired hot tub in a garage. It features a tank clad in reclaimed wood and uses copper pipes from an oil boiler. It cost £50. "It's the perfect way to show that green building projects can be really affordable and ultimately quite relaxing," says Watson.If you have any ethical questions, email lucy.siegle@observer.co.ukGreen buildingEthical and green livingBristolGreen travelLucy Siegleguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

There is no reception, no bar, no restaurant and no room service, but Berge, at the foot of the Bavarian Alps, is the ultimate mountain retreatIt's been raining for days. The sky is a murky grey and the mountains, rising steeply just a few hundred metres away, are a blur. After a 90-minute train journey from Munich, I am standing outside the tiny station of Aschau, at the foot of the Bavarian Alps, waiting for Nils Holger Moormann, the celebrated and somewhat eccentric furniture designer, to pick me up.I'm here to visit Berge, his unique Alpine lodge. Despite the fact that Berge (which means mountains) offers nothing in the way of a reception area, service, internet, telephone, television, breakfast or restaurant, Elle Decoration named it "the most beautiful lodge in the mountains".Finally, an ancient 4x4 pulls up and the passenger door swings open to reveal Moormann's smiling face. We head first to his huge design studio, located across the road from the lodge, literally beneath Hohenaschau Schloss, a medieval castle that dominates the landscape."It's not a luxury hotel. It's not a design or art hotel," he replies. "It's a kind of a well-organised shelter."About four years ago, Moormann was on the verge of bankruptcy. Displaying a characteristic disdain for long-term planning, he had invested his future in the decrepit building across from his studio, with the aim of using it for storage and as a "logistics" centre. His idea, however, met with opposition from a small number of Aschau residents (even though 98% of his workforce are locals and he uses almost exclusively local materials for his designs). Planning permission was refused and he slithered towards financial meltdown.The building dates from 1671, and over the centuries has been used as a court bakery, guesthouse and youth hostel, before being abandoned and left to rot. Considering the surfeit of Alpine lodges across the region, Moormann's new proposal to turn it into a mountain retreat was deemed by some to be an even bigger mistake than buying it in the first place. As it turns out, it was a stroke of genius.In contrast to the legions of lodges promising "dream holidays", an utter lack of hyperbole is key to understanding not only Berge but Moormann's design ethos. There is no invigorating spa or wellness programme, detox regime or fitness trainer. There is no prescription for a better, healthier lifestyle. What you see really is what you get: innovative design, an invitation to be self-sufficient and a genuine opportunity for relaxation surrounded by nature. "You can have a five-course meal. If you cook it yourself!" says the website.Moormann's design plays with typical Bavarian clichés, as with the lodge's Janus-faced exterior. The roadside facade with neat, square windows is not dissimilar from the ubiquitous mountain lodges that scatter the Bavarian and Austrian Alps, while its mountain-facing façade is a harsher, darker grey interrupted by a series of rectangular windows with single shutters. "It's a wonderful game," is how he describes it, "with the Alps and the Bavarian baroque set against the minimalist design."The entrance corridor is reminiscent of a minor medieval church: plain, uneven white walls traversed by numerous vault-like arches. Exposed red brickwork adds to the rustic appearance."There was no real plan," says Moormann. "It's trial and error. People have asked me whether I can build something similar for them in South Tyrol, or wherever. It doesn't work like that. We play with Berge. We go three steps forward and two steps back. It's not good for the nerves; everything is 'under construction', but it means you are closer to the [creative] process."At first, Berge seems to have an air of being "not quite finished". But don't be fooled: quality, attention to detail and skilled craftsmanship pervade throughout. Moormann has invested €2.7m in the project, made possible only by what he calls "a perfect run for the company over the past four years": the steady expansion in sales of his furniture, examples of which are scattered throughout the lodge, from his angular Bookinist chair to his array of lamps and pared-down tables.After the tour, we head back outside to the entrance, and I open a metal box to get my room key. There are 16 individually designed apartments, all with names related to the mountains or the locality. Kampenblick, for instance, is named after the nearby 1,668m Kampenwand mountain, which is accessible via a cable car. Moormann leads me to Bergfried ("keep", as in the castle variety), and hands me a bottle of organic red wine.With no clutter, my room, which is bigger than many in five-star hotels, is more than adequate for two adults. On the right is the kitchen area containing Moormann-designed cutlery and crockery. Ahead are two windows, one narrow and stretching obliquely from just above the floor to the ceiling, leading the eye to the keep of the castle outside, hence the room's name. There are no wardrobes, just coat hangers dangling from an old ladder, and a small wooden table with benches. The bedroom area is on a "second floor", above the small bathroom, accessed by a metal ladder. Before he leaves, I ask him about the most important thing guests should bring for a stay here."Themselves!" he shoots back. Then adds: "My personal tip is to bring a small notebook. Here you have time. You have the opportunity to calm down, to reflect a little and write a few pages… And when the weather's fine, nature pulls you outside."After he leaves, I give some half-hearted thought to the possibility of finding an internet connection, but once I realise I am wasting my time, I start to relax. Reading becomes a joy."Berge is not a luxury hotel," Moormann had stressed earlier. "It's a modern translation of how to stay in the mountains." He is right, but Berge is also a luxury. Just of a different kind.How to get there and what you need to knowDeutsche Bahn trains run from Munich to Aschau (bahn.com) and Berge is a 10-minute walk from the station. Rail Europe (0844 848 4070; raileurope.co.uk) has fares from London to Munich from £161 return. Easyjet (easyjet.com) flies to Munich from London Stansted and Gatwick from £29.99 each way. Berge, Kampenwand strasse 85, D-83229 Aschau im (moormann-berge.de). Based on two sharing, prices range from €120-€260 a night (€30 surcharge for one-night stay). The Große Stube can be booked for group events (chef Hans Blösl, can also be booked).Nature watch: five other remote lodges in superb settings, by Nicola Iseard1. THE ROOZEN RESIDENCE, MARGARET RIVER, WEST AUSTRALIA Visitors to the Margaret River wine region, three hours south of Perth, can bed down in a stunning three-bedroom architect-designed beach house, which is the iconic holiday home of local artist and surfer, Ron Roozen. Sleek and minimalist, the open-plan, concrete, copper and glass building sits low on a secluded hillside, above the crashing surf of Prevelly Beach, offering 180-degree vistas of the coastline from all its rooms, as well as its huge balcony. From $550 (£317) per night (0061 407 479 004; ronroozen.com.au). Qantas (qantas.com.au) flies from London Heathrow to Perth from £794 return.2. THE WINGED HOUSE, TASMANIA Rising from the hillside like a silver bird with wings spread wide, this award-winning house is located above Table Cape, on Tasmania's rugged northwest coast. Designed by an artist and architect, it has two bedrooms, a Japanese-style bathroom and an open-plan lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows offering views across the Bass Strait – all filled with the designer's artwork. From $350 (£201) per night (0061 9906 3224; thewingedhouse.com.au). Virgin Atlantic (virgin.com) flies from London Heathrow to Sydney from £848 return. Virgin Blue (virginblue.com.au) flies from Sydney to Hobart from $176 (£101) return. Hire a car to drive five hours north to Table Cape (europcar.com.au).3. HOTEL FURILLEN, GOTLAND, SWEDEN Located on the tiny islet of Furillen, off Gotland Island – 90km east of the Swedish mainland – this limestone-factory-turned-hotel is one of Sweden's furthest-flung hotels. It has 15 double bedrooms in the main house, but it's the four timber cabins hidden among the woods you want to go for, with sheepskin rugs, handcrafted furniture and roaring fires. The hotel has its own restaurant, too. From 1,950 SEK (£169) per room per night, including breakfast (0046 498 22 30 40; furillen.nu). Get there SAS (flysas.com) flies from London Heathrow to Stockholm from £141 return. Take a high-speed ferry to Visby on Gotland from Nynashamn, 57km south of Stockholm, with Destination Gotland (destinationgotland.se) from 152 SEK (£13) one-way.4. ANTTOLANHOVI ART & DESIGN VILLAS, FINLAND Individually designed by not one but nine Finnish artists, these 19 eco villas are located on the shores of Lake Saimaa in southeast Finland. Built from birch, stone and glass, some are right on the shore front, others tucked in the hills, all with lake views. The villas sleep between four and six. A beautician and masseuse are on call for pampering whims. From €690 per night (00358 207 57 5200; anttolanhovi.fi). Easyjet (easyJet.com) flies from London Gatwick and Manchester to Helsinki from £46 return. From Helsinki, take the train to Mikkeli (2 hours 30 minutes), near Anttola. Go to see vr.fi for times and fares.5. 360° LETI, HIMALAYAS Surrounded by mountain wilderness at 8,000ft in Uttaranchal in the Himalayas, about an hour's walk from the nearest road, this retreat is as remote as they get. It has four ensuite cabins, built from stone and decked out in woollen rugs and wooden furniture, fronted on two sides by glass – perfect for lapping up those mountain vistas. Dinners are served in the restaurant. Three nights from £1,231 per person, including all meals, a guide and return road transfers (seven hours) from Kathgodam train station (020 3151 5177; shaktihimalaya.com). Get there British Airways (ba.com) flies from London Heathrow to Delhi from £512 return. Shakti Himalay a can organise the overnight sleeper from Delhi to Kathgodam, prices on inquiry.Visit guardian.co.uk/travel for more advice and travel suggestionsGermanyHotelsPaul Wheatleyguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Research suggests the number of people taking time out from work or study has rocketed in the last decadeThe recession is driving more young people than ever to embark on gap years as well as prompting record numbers of working Britons to take sabbaticals and career breaks, according to research from Santander. In the 1970s, around 270,000 people took time out from their careers, a figure which increased to around 710,000 between 1980 and 1989. By 2010, according to Santander's research, the number of people taking career breaks had rocketed to around 4 million people.While travel is the most common reason for taking time out, 415,000 Britons (including students and those in employment) say a fiercely competitive jobs market is to blame, the research shows. Some 219,000 people also say they took time out because they were unable to secure a university place; as a result, one in four students aged 18 and over is currently planning a break.Ian Coles, of Santander credit cards, said: "With lifestyle breaks costing around £5,000 to £6,000 on average, it is important that people weigh up the costs and the benefits, financially and otherwise."Santander claims its Zero credit card is one of the few cards on the market to offer fee-free, foreign usage anywhere in the world – but you need to have a Santander current account, investment product or mortgage to get it.Moneynet.co.uk's Andrew Hagger prefers the Halifax Clarity credit card, which is also free but doesn't require you to take out any other products to qualify. "Metro Bank also provides debit and credit cards that are free to use overseas," he adds. "Then the next best deal is Coventry Building Society and, even though it is increasing charges, Nationwide Building Society is third cheapest."NatWest, RBS or Santander debit cards are typical in that you will be charged 2.75% on purchases plus a transaction fee of £1.25 each time, making small transactions on debit cards very expensive.Work & careersRecessionCredit cardsUnemployment and employment statisticsGraduate careersBanco SantanderGap yearsMark Kingguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

We've teamed up with Hotels.com – the world's leading hotel booking website – to offer a three-night break for two in Dublin, Ireland.

The Isle of Wight's only Michelin-starred restaurant and hotel, The Hambrough (01983 856333; thehambrough.com) in Ventnor, has just expanded, and is now offering a five-bedroom self-catering property, Villa Lavinia, to complement its rooms.

September is harvest time for food and drink festivals around the country.

Where the fells of the Lake District tumble eastwards towards the plains and the Pennines, you'll find lonely Haweswater.

Contingency plans ready as London Underground workers get set to walk out over job cutsTransport bosses and the mayor of London, Boris Johnson, said yesterday they would "pull out all the stops" to help commuters during the planned strike by London Underground workers on Monday.Johnson said contingency plans would include an extra 100 buses, escorted bike rides, marshalled taxi ranks and capacity for 10,000 extra journeys on the river Thames boats.Union leaders said they intended to go ahead with the strike after talks broke down yesterday. Thousands of tube workers plan to walk out for 24 hours from 5pm on Monday over plans to cut 800 jobs."Londoners are a hardy bunch and I am sure a tube strike will not deter us from getting around," Johnson said. "I have asked Transport for London to pull out all the stops, but we must be clear that the [unions] RMT and TSSA plan to inconvenience Londoners for no good reason."The extra measures we have put in place call for a team effort and people will need to consider buses, boats or bikes as an alternative to their usual journeys. This planned action will cause disruption for millions of Londoners and I call on the unions to get round the table and show common sense." He said volunteers would be drafted in to hand out maps and other information.The Rail Maritime and Transport (RMT) union said London Underground had failed to remove the threat of cuts to safety and safe staffing levels that would have allowed for "meaningful discussions".But the TfL commissioner, Peter Hendy, said: "There is no need for any action, as the changes we are introducing come with no compulsory redundancies and stations will remain staffed at all times and every station with a ticket office will continue to have one." He added: "We regret that Londoners will be disrupted if the strike goes ahead. However, the RMT and TSSA leadership will not stop LU from moving with the times. Due to the success of Oyster, just one journey in 20 now involves a ticket office." Up to 200 tube maintenance workers will also strike on Sunday in a separate row over pay and conditions.Trade unionsTransportLondonUnited KingdomBoris JohnsonJo Adetunjiguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

The free travel pass is a great boon to many older people, but serious questions have to be raised as to whether it should be a universal benefit at 60. We are now in an era of huge cuts in public funding and there are more urgent social care needs among the poorest and most vulnerable older people than a free pass which can and is used by people who are still at work, such as Keith Ludeman, chief executive of Go-Ahead (Let pensioners pay one-off fee for bus pass, says Go-Ahead, 3 September). There are serious questions as to whether it is the poorest older people who benefit most from the universal free pass, or whether, as in so many other cases, it is of more value to the wealthier people. Rather than go down a means-testing route, though, one answer may be to raise the age of eligibility for a pass.Leon KreitzmanChair, Age Concern Lewisham & Southwark, London• A one-off payment for bus passes would, indeed, cut the £1bn annual cost, but it would seriously affect the poorest pensioners. A better solution would be to make all benefits received by pensioners (bus passes, winter fuel allowances, free TV licences and NHS prescriptions) taxable so better-off pensioners contributed according to their means.John HowesLondon• The greatest benefit of the bus pass is that pensioners who have lost their cars through ageing and ill health can still get about without worrying about the cost. They meet neighbours on board who become friends that help each other when needed, and save the social services far more money than the obnoxious Ludeman complains about.Brian Robinson Brentwood, Essex• Transport for All's attack on London Underground's staffing proposals (Letters, 30 August) is based on a misunderstanding. Our proposals have come about because ticket sales at stations have dropped significantly since the introduction of Oyster, so that now only one in 20 journeys starts with a visit to a ticket office, and some stations sell fewer than 10 tickets each hour. Under our plans, every station that has a ticket office now will continue to have one, and staff will remain in every station in exactly those areas that Transport for All want them to be: in ticket halls and on platforms where they can help customers, not hidden away behind under-used ticket office windows. Staff will still help with any problems and provide a reassuring presence across the network – including for older and disabled Londoners, many of whom receive a Freedom Pass which requires no interaction with either ticket offices or machines.Mike Brown Managing director, London UndergroundTransport policyTransportRail transportRail travelguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Four new and revamped urban bolt holes in the Middle East and north Africa• Cairo's Talisman Hotel (i-escape.com/talismanhotel.php), which opened a year ago near the Egyptian Museum, claims to be the city's only boutique hotel. Its 24 colourful rooms (£66 B&B) with chandeliers, parquet floor and beautiful quilts, take up the fifth-floor of an apartment block in downtown Cairo and, along with decadent salons and a dining room, are accessed by an old wrought-iron lift.• Hard to choose between Marrakech's riads, isn't it? Riad Chi Chi (i-escape.com/riadchichi.php) which opened last year, is a great-value option. Five rooms in subtle cream have wooden lattices looking onto a courtyard with a small petal-strewn swimming pool and cushioned alcoves. A canopied chill-out area on the roof has Atlas views. Doubles from £53 B&B.• Syria's second city, Aleppo, has the best souks in the entire region – miles of medieval alleyways lined with stalls selling everything from milk to silk. Boutique hotels abound, and one of the best has just had a revamp. Hidden down a passageway beside one of the Old City gates, the Mansouriya Palace (mansouriya.com), was built in the 16th century around an interior courtyard. Nine suites sport luxurious fabrics and lavish design touches, from marble baths to inlaid headboards. It ain't cheap though, from £279 B&B.• A luxury hotel, the Russelior (preferredhotels.com/russelior), opened in the Tunisian seaside city of Hammamet this year, and has a hip white spa with drapes and posh lights, luscious gardens, tennis courts and several restaurants. Rooms cost from £111 including breakfast.Middle EastHotelsSyriaTunisiaEgyptMoroccoMarrakechCairoRestaurantsguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Spend some Arabian days and nights exploring the culture and coastal beauty of the GulfCulture, QatarWith its long, elegant corniche bristling with futuristic skyscrapers, Doha – the capital of Qatar – has enjoyed a transformational decade. The most exciting new development is the spectacular Museum of Islamic Art, designed by Chinese-American architect IM Pei. Rising in a series of limestone cubes from a purpose-built island, it houses the biggest collection of its kind in the world.• ITC Classics (01244 355 527, itcclassics .co.uk) offers five nights at the Ritz Carlton Doha from £1,180pp, inc flightsScenery and art, Abu DhabiHigh culture is also a high priority in Abu Dhabi, the largest and richest of the United Arab Emirates, although the most prestigious projects – new branches of the Louvre and Guggenheim museums – are yet to open. Outside the capital, the peaceful city of Al-Ain has atmospheric old forts, a beautiful date-palm oasis and a lively old camel market. In the desert far to the south lies the Liwa oasis, a vast arc of villages and farms in an awe-inspiring landscape of sand dunes.• Destinology (0800 634 2844, destinology.co.uk) has a seven-night tour of Abu Dhabi, including the Anantara Qasr Al-Sarab Hotel in the Liwa oasis, from £1,659pp inc flightsMuseums, SharjahSharjah, the third largest emirate, is socially conservative, with a strict ban on alcohol, but it's worth a visit for its lively souk and many small galleries and museums – including the impressive Museum of Islamic Heritage and the Bait al-Naboodah, the home of a 19th-century pearl-fishing family.• Cox and Kings (020 7873 5000 coxandkings.co.uk) offers an eight-day tour of the emirates, including Sharjah, from £2,295, inc flightsCoast, FujairahMountainous little Fujairah has the loveliest coastline in the UAE (though it's on the Gulf of Oman, not the Arabian Gulf), with clear waters and white sand beaches. The drive from Fujairah town to the sleepy fishing village of Dibba is spectacular – and from there, you can take a dhow to unspoiled dive sites on Oman's spectacular Musandam peninsular.• Emirates Tours (0844 800 1400, emiratestours.co.uk) offers three nights in Fujairah from £610pp, inc flightsRemote, OmanOman's remote Musandam peninsula offers amazing scenery: rocky fjords rise sheer from the sea, dolphins leap alongside traditional wooden dhows and a handful of slumbering villages guard access to the strategic Strait of Hormuz waterway. Musandam's dusty capital, Khasab – newly linked to Muscat by regular fast ferry – gazes out to the Gulf from behind its modest fort, built by the Portuguese in the 17th century and honoured this year with the international Museums and Heritage award for its renovation, excellent displays on Omani history and ongoing community engagement. • Oman Tourism (omantourism.gov.om). National Ferries Company (nfcoman.com). Oman Air (0844 482 2309, omanair.com) flies direct from Heathrow to MuscatMiddle EastUnited Arab EmiratesQatarOmanDivingguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Following an ancient trade route across Libya, Sara Wheeler enounters Berber life, and finds that trade and smuggling are still alive and wellAbu Bakir, our driver and factotum, carried a large carpet shoulder bag that had belonged to his father and grandfather before him. It contained tea-making equipment: a beaten silver tray, two silver beakers, a teapot and a camel-hair buffing cloth. Wherever camp was established, Abu Bakir would settle on a square of carpet laid on the sand and commence the tea ritual. Foam held the key to a successful brew, hence a lot of high pouring from beaker to teapot and back. After turning in each night, I fell asleep to the clink of tea glasses and low murmur of voices.It is a ritual that has been taking place across the Sahara for centuries.A thousand years before camels came to north Africa, merchant caravans journeyed to the Niger bend in pursuit of ivory, essences and rare woods. The voyage back to the coastal ports, where Punic merchants jingled silver coins, was more than 2,200km. It was one of the most ancient trading routes, linking the heart of Africa with successive northern empires. Yet despite its remote and treacherous terrain, the Libyan Sahara still services commerce, as I found out on my own journey.The road south from Tripoli is a study in desiccation. Following the trade route, my guide, 27-year-old Abbas, drove through the foothills of the Jebel Nafusa and the landscape dried out before our eyes. In the middle of our first day on the road, Abbas announced that we were to visit a smugglers' warehouse. We pulled up outside Qasr al-Haj, an almost perfectly intact 12th-century Berber granary. The sky was clear blue, and the slopes of Jebel Nafusa shimmered. The pottery colours of the Qasr seemed to grow out of the desert. Inside, a dusty corridor opened on to an arena lined with five-metre-deep cubby holes, each once used for a family's winter supply of barley and wheat, and now, apparently, a hiding place for contraband.The oasis settlement at Nalut on the western edge of the Jebel Nafusa has been a resting place for traders since the fourth century BC. It remains a staging post but, following Muammar Gaddafi's new idea that each town in the Libyan interior must be painted in its own co-ordinated colours, the municipal buildings are now decked out in outlandish peach and green.People melt away as one tracks the traders south: 85% of Libyans live on the Mediterranean coast. Libya may be the fourth-largest country in Africa, but only 10% of its land is cultivable. The interior was immune to the cultural flux that shaped the coast. It is Berber territory. Abbas never missed an opportunity to promote his own Berber ethnicity. Although he lived in Tripoli, he said he did not feel Libyan. "The only thing we share with Arabised Libyans," he said, "is religion."Walking the covered lanes of Ghadames, an oasis town 550km from Tripoli, one sensed the ghostly presence of medieval traders, reclining in the shade of pomegranate trees in cool courtyard gardens. Ghadames was once the pre-eminent Saharan trading hub (today the walled old town is a Unesco world heritage site). Marseilles cloth and Venetian paper went south, precious stones and ostrich plumes headed north – and news came in from everywhere. On my journey the scent of crushed lemon leaves filled the empty lanes, and rods of light fell through vertical skylights on to white mud-brick houses. The temperature outside reached 36C.The hotel on the outskirts of Ghadames new town was characteristic of tourism in the Libyan interior. (The Revolutionary government moved 6,000 residents from the medieval lanes in the early 1980s, a gesture towards the fabled modernisation Gaddafi craved.) Leaflets in the huge marble lobby advertised an impressive range of facilities. I made enquiries. The pool? "Is not built." Internet? "Is not working." Laundry? "Is no bags." But they did have an espresso machine.According to the authorities, unemployment in Libya stands at 40%, but the figure is meaningless in a country with a burgeoning private sector without fiscal status. Abbas had a government job in addition to being a guide, though he appeared rarely to attend. When I asked him, after a week on the road, how he managed so much time away from the office, he said he got his cousin to sign in for him.South of Ghadames, we entered the wilderness of Hamada al-Hamra and passed three cars in 150km. This expanse of desert scrub has been keeping smugglers safe since the time Europeans were emerging from their caves. Traffic thickened only as we approached Sebha, where we stopped at a shop for dates, stored, as everywhere, in boxes in the deep freeze, and ate some cashews and Ecuadorean bananas. Sebha is a horrible modern hole. Today's traders deal in people, spiriting Africans up to the coast and across to Sicily.At the Ubari petrol station, young men filled rows of jerrycans strapped to the roofs of their Toyota Land Cruisers, the whole forecourt a seething souk of Tuareg and Berber faces. Petrol is 10p a litre in Libya, and 10 times that in neighbouring Tunisia, and around Ghadames and Ubari people fill cans and custom-built 100-litre tanks to siphon off in more lucrative markets.I asked Abbas if fuel accounted for the majority of illegal trade, "No!" he laughed. "We smuggle anything. I made a lot of money last year importing canned dog and cat food from Tunisia. I bought cans there and sold them for 10 times as much here." At Ubari, we linked up with three further team members and a second jeep. The three – cook and headman as well as Abu Bakir – were Tuareg, proud men of the once nomadic tribe of the central Sahara who protected the trade caravans. The dapper Abbas, his black hair gelled, appeared in a different western outfit each day, at one point sporting a thigh-length teddy boy coat. But his three Tuareg assistants stuck to their hooded burnouses and the tagelmust, the 6ft length of fabric wound into a turban and face cover. They enjoyed teaching me to put one on, but I always ended up looking bandaged.Off road, we entered the desert proper through Masak Mastafat, the northern gateway to the Acacus massif's basalt columns, sandstone buttresses and rolling sands; lots of rolling sands. There, the five of us camped for four days and four nights. Everyone enjoyed it. Darkness crashed down with African haste at 6.25pm, and after making our pop-up tents secure, we sat around a fire eating barley soup and camel couscous sharpened with dollops of harissa. There was talk about the sexually invigorating properties of the ubiquitous harissa. Eaten, I wondered, or applied?At mealtimes, a desert sparrow might visit our camp. But it was at night that the Sahara came alive. Ensconced in my tent, I listened to gerbils (a foot long and meaty, not the hutch variety) scratching around the guy ropes. In the morning, I followed the delicate tracks of wolves and fennec foxes. Soon after striking camp one day, we surprised two heavily laden vehicles, with five men and two children loitering nearby. Spotting us, the adults knelt down and pretended to pray. I asked Abbas what was stashed under the tarpaulins. He shrugged, and suggested Sport cigarettes, the red-and-white packets that decorate every street in Tripoli. But I wondered.On the last night we pitched camp in the lee of a volcanic outcrop. Desert rain had washed away the porous rock, creating a wild and fantastic outline. When lightning struck, phantasmagorical rock silhouettes leapt to life. The camp was hard by Mandara, one of a dozen lakes in the south-western Libyan Sahara. A water project had dried it to the bed, but the next day I swam in Umm al-Maa, a block of opaque green water nestled in a palmy basin. It was so salty my feet wouldn't stay under. All around, Niger Tuareg played noughts-and-crosses in the sand.Driving out, a cry went up in our Land Cruiser. "Signal!" We stopped. Everyone got out. I remember the figure of Abu Bakir, burnouse flapping, holding his phone aloft in salute and squinting into the sun.LibyaRoad tripsCampingMiddle Eastguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

With all the Roman ruins and Petra, it's tempting to focus on Jordan's historic sites, but its nature reserves and their chic eco-lodges shouldn't be missedYellow grit, the depressing mesh fences of army barracks, and long chains of oil tankers coming in from Saudi Arabia. This was the Middle East as imagined by people who don't know anything about the Middle East, and there had been nothing else in hours.Road signs said "Iraq ahead". "Don't fall asleep!" laughed our driver, Ahmed. "Maybe I keep going, and you wake up in Baghdad!"At last, something green. Palm trees. Then houses, a mosque, and a black basalt fortress. We had reached the point of the eastern desert of Jordan where the sands turns black with volcanic basalt rock. A trickle of travellers make it out here – 100km from Amman and well off the tourist trail between Petra, Wadi Rum and the Dead Sea – to see several desert castles, built in the seventh and eighth centuries by the Umayyads, one of those empires no one remembers, although they were once the biggest in the world, governing five million square miles that stretched from Spain to present-day Pakistan.What brought us to the desert was the same thing that attracted the Umayyads (and before them the Romans, the Nabateans, and neolithic people): an oasis, the desert's only water source.The Azraq wetland, an area of pools surrounded by tall grasses, bullrushes and reeds, is one of Jordan's six nature parks, established by the country's Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature. A million migratory birds used to stop here every year – filling the sky until they blocked out the sun. But no more. Since the 1980s the site has been in a state of environmental disaster as the Azraq water basin which feeds it has also been pumped to supply the population."One in every four glasses of water drunk in Amman comes from Azraq," say the boards in the visitor centre. Diagrams showed how the pools have shrunk to 0.4% of their original area.Azraq may not be the paradise garden it once was (though the RSCN is fighting to get it back), but it's a fascinating stop-off after the castles. We explored the pools on wooden walkways, and spotted ducks, egrets and a cormorant from an adobe hide.To encourage visitors to Azraq, the RSCN has turned a 1940s British field hospital into a lodge, decorated with period trunks, black and white photographs of Bedouin, plus a 1956 Land Rover. The barracks contain stylish tiled bedrooms with flagstone floors and cacti-studded desert views.This forward-thinking way of combining eco-tourism with conservation has been put into practice in all of Jordan's six nature parks, which cover a range of landscapes – forests at Ajloun and Dibeen, the Rift Valley's canyons at Dana biosphere reserve, mountains and rivers at Mujib near the Dead Sea coast, and desert grassland at Shaumari, near Azraq.Travellers dashing between the country's main attractions typically pay scant attention to these nature parks, but they are one of Jordan's best assets. I made them the focus of a 10-day tour of the country with my mum, but because Jordan's so small it was perfectly viable to include the major historic sites too.Our first port of call in Amman – before its Roman amphitheatres, souks and modern art gallery – was the HQ of Wild Jordan, the RSCN offshoot responsible for eco-tourism, and for socio-economic projects that support the rural communities living around the reserves.The architect-designed building on the edge of the capital's starting-to-be-hip district, Rainbow Street, is also a visitor centre, with a sun terrace affording views of the seven hills to which the city clings, a health food cafe and a boutique selling crafts made by people living near the reserves.Oman has its frankincense, Egypt carpets, Morocco leather, Saudi gold, but Jordan didn't have much in the way of traditional crafts. So Wild Jordan has worked with villagers to develop some, using local, sustainable materials – painted ostrich eggs from Azraq, olive oil soap from Ajloun, Bedouin silverware from Dana.Wild Jordan's director, British expat Chris Johnson, met us for a cup of herbal tea and had some exciting news. The government had just agreed to establish nine more protected areas, including three in the Rift Valley, plus two near Wadi Rum and one in Burqu, the black basalt desert we had seen near Azraq. There will be one in the limestone hills and deciduous forest on the border with Syria, another in a sub-tropical wetland south of the Rift Valley, and one at Jebel Masuda, an "amazing" mountain near Petra from which you can enter the famous site through a back route."We chose the most special and typically Jordanian eco-systems," he said, "but to get nine is exceptional."It had taken a lot of work to persuade the government of the value of conservation, he explained. "They were always hoping to find a raw material that would change Jordan's fate. Feynan and Dana were almost lost to mining. But the minerals would have soon run out. Eco-tourism is more valuable."Now the strategy is to keep tourists in Jordan longer, to explore more of the country. It's easy to do. By early afternoon the next day, we'd left Amman, seen Roman Jerash's dusty amphitheatres and chariot racetracks, walked the dark passageways of Ajloun's crusader castle, and were hiking in the fresh sunshine in the Ajloun forest reserve.It was December, sunny but too cold for the reserve's safari tents, so we holed up in one of its gorgeous wooden cabins with a Calor Gas heater and read under thick blankets until we were called for a delicious dinner of lentil soup, salads and stew. Although sadly there was none of Jordan's lovely red wine, St George – all the eco-lodges are alcohol-free.On our way to the next reserve, we stayed a night in Madaba to see its famous sixth century mosaic map of the Holy Land on the floor of St George's church, and stood the next day on nearby Mount Nebo, where Moses is said to have looked across the Dead Sea to Jericho."Just close your eyes for 15 seconds now," said Ahmed from the driver's seat as we headed south across flat, barren land on the King's Highway. "One, two..." he counted slowly. We hoped he was keeping his own eyes open. "15! OK!" Before us was the most incredible scene, an immense gaping canyon stretching into the distance. I was dumbstruck. The Mujib is Jordan's answer to the Grand Canyon, but I'd never even heard of it. Here Wild Jordan offers stays in eco-chalets, with swimming and canyoning trips along river trails, but in winter the water is too dangerous, so we had to give it a miss.Instead we spent the next day at the impressive Karak crusader castle, then by the afternoon were at Petra. You don't need to read again about how incredible the rose-red city is, but what I'd underestimated was the staggering beauty of the landscape around it. We did a steep hike up to the Sacred High Place, where rock chasms run off in all directions. You'd need weeks of hard hiking to see all of it.Afterwards we wanted to wash off the dust at a traditional hammam. "There is only a mixed one, if that is OK for you," said Ahmed. We thought it was. But then his mates turned up, and they all unexpectedly joined us in the marble steam rooms, larking about, and then kept "accidentally" bursting in on us while we got changed and had massages. They overstepped the mark, but I read later that Jordanian women would never go to a mixed hammam, so perhaps we were partly to blame.As foreign females we were generally treated with respect, but in Jordan, strict boundaries are maintained between the sexes. Few women work, and they are not expected to make eye contact with male strangers.But Jordan wants to modernise. Queen Rania is pushing for female social development through various charity projects, and Wild Jordan is doing its bit, employing women to make crafts and as lodge staff. But this has to be sensitively managed."At Ajloun, we developed a calligraphy workshop," Chris Johnson had told me back in Amman. "I visited and had a try, rather clumsily, so one of the female workers guided my hand with hers. The village found out and her family were angry – it was a scandal. She was made to quit her job."But there are success stories, too. The Dana biosphere reserve – a canyon home to 800 plant varieties, 214 species of bird and 45 types of mammal – runs along the Rift Valley to the desert of Wadi Araba. The Bedouin who lived there were no longer allowed to hunt when it was made a nature park, but many were retrained as hotel staff at Dana Guesthouse at the top of the canyon and Feynan Ecolodge, at the bottom, or as nature guides leading insightful treks between them. Our guide, Mohammed showed us caves he'd lived in, wolf tracks, and plants for shampoo, but said he was happy to have left behind the hard Bedouin life.Dana's lovely lodge had simple rooms with polished stone floors, iron beds with thick cream bedspreads, and Bedouin rugs, but the canyon views are its big attraction. In contrast, the dry desert setting of Feynan Ecolodge on the western edge of the reserve wasn't so beautiful, but the lodge itself was magical – lit by candles, and resembling a sandcastle. It is eco to the extreme – solar-powered and vegetarian, with clever water and cooling systems. And it is surrounded by archaeological sites dating back 10,000 years – Nabatean ruins, Roman copper mines, Byzantine churches, neolithic villages. Winter meant we couldn't try the canyoning, but we mountain-biked between the sites, and took tea in Bedouin tents.We also took a tour of Dana village with Hamed, an RSCN guide. "Since the 1980s, tourism has changed life here," he said. "Before, there was no school, no TV, and women had to ask permission to leave the house. Now they go to university."The village had been deserted when people moved to modern homes close to a new road, and its old stone and juniper wood buildings were crumbling. But the RSCN plans to restore them, and is offering free homes, plus jobs in the restaurants, museum and music venue it hopes to create there to entice villagers back.We met Nabil, owner of a third of the village buildings, at his decades-old Dana Tower hotel, a low-cost backpackers' place, and a rival to the RSCN's Dana lodge. Though he was all for the restoration, he wasn't a big fan of the RSCN, wanting more decision-making to be in the villagers' hands: "They take money from tourists and spend it on many things. Not enough money goes to local people."But what Wild Jordan is doing seems far better than other options. Our last stop was the Hammamet Ma'In hotsprings, where King Herod once bathed. Wild Jordan has a Dead Sea visitor centre nearby but no lodge, so we stayed at the posh Evason spa hotel, and swam in pools of 40C under steaming waterfalls.I asked the manager if they employed local women. "No, women do not work in Jordan," he answered, assuring me that the towering hotel – with its $1,600 suites, Thai masseurs, western food, shuttle buses and luxury Sri Lankan fabrics – was eco-friendly. Sure, it had its own spring water, and an organic vegetable patch, but I am certain the lodges in the new Wild Jordan will offer a more authentic experience.JordanMiddle EastGreen travelAdventure travelPetra, JordanWildlife holidaysGemma Bowesguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Palestine is synonymous with violence, but politics takes a back seat on this extraordinary new walking route where the people are welcoming and the countryside stunningThere was a moment of silence. Then the Palestinian youngsters marched in front of us and I thought to myself, this is where they sing about being martyrs and dying glorious deaths. A gentle breeze swayed the mulberry tree. On the far ridges of the mountains around Nablus, the lights of the illegal Israeli settlements twinkled. This village, I knew, had seen 2,000 acres of olive groves taken by those settlers, plus several lives. An older girl called the group to order then, in English, they launched into their chant."I'm a red tomato, you're a green tomato. You're a little cucumber..."Everyone started to laugh. A walking holiday in Palestine. You've got to laugh really. I laughed a lot on that walk. And this in a part of the world where something horrible is always happening, be it shootings in Hebron, attacks on aid flotillas, or separation walls and rocket attacks. In the middle of such madness, laughter is the most unexpected and valuable pleasure, one that people seize at every opportunity.It was perhaps appropriate that I started my hike in the far north of the West Bank, within a few miles of a hill called Megiddo, where Pharoah Thutmose III overwhelmed the Canaanite king Durusha in about 1457BC, thus beginning the legend of Armageddon, the site of the Last Battle. With my guide Hejazi, I walked through peaceful fields of wheat past other ancient sites, exploring Roman tombs lost in undergrowth and watching storks circling overhead on their migration north. Our first major stopping point was Jenin, a town whose name is tied inextricably to violence and death. Despite its reputation, however, Jenin turned out to be a friendly market town of Palestinian farmers, a place to gorge on strawberries and almonds, washed down with carob juice sold from huge ornamental brass urns.I walked around the souk in a bit of a daze. How could reality be so different from expectations? Certainly, the walls were pockmarked with bullet holes from the second intifada, but the martyrdom posters were all faded by the sunshine and people wanted to shake hands. The carob-juice seller adjusted his Ray-Bans and grinned: "Why not join me on Facebook?"There are several long distance footpaths in Palestine, but the one I was following was the Masar Ibrahim al-Khalil – literally Path of Abraham the Friend of God, simply the Masar for short. This new route stretches across the Middle East, starting at Abraham's birthplace in Sanliurfa, south-east Turkey, and winds south through Syria, Jordan and Israel. Eventually, it could stretch all the way to Mecca, linking existing paths associated with Abraham, and new routes. Its purpose is to promote understanding between different faiths and cultures; it's also intended "as a catalyst for sustainable tourism and economic development". In places the path barely exists yet, in others it is well-worn, but everywhere it needs a guide. Hejazi was my man in Palestine, a person of unending cheerfulness and optimism.For a Muslim, Hejazi tells me, the idea of a path named after Abraham is attractive since the great patriarch is revered as the "father of hospitality". To Jews and Christians, he is equally important – the starting point for monotheistic worship. The Masar, I discovered, is not some do-gooder peace initiative, but simply a great way to see the landscape and meet people.The path makes no attempt to follow Abraham's original route, even if such a path could be discovered; rather it links sites that bear legends and folk tales about the man. Our first major site was south of Jenin at Jebel Gerazim, a mountain that stands above the ancient town of Nablus and affords astonishing views west to the Mediterranean and east to the hills of Jordan.On the summit of the mountain is a tower built by Saladin and some fine, if neglected, Byzantine mosaics guarded by a group of Israeli teenage soldiers. Further down the hillside, we could see the houses of that renowned Jewish sect the Samaritans, a group that still has more than 700 followers."The reason the Samaritans revere this place," Hejazi explained, "is because they believe Abraham came here and built his first altar in Canaan."It was a well-chosen spot to view what Abraham wanted: territory. "Unto thy seed," said his God, "will I give this land." And that was very generous of the Lord, all things considered. Except, of course, that all things had not been considered: previous inhabitants and the sheer fertility of Abraham's seed, which includes not only the 12 tribes of Israel but the prophet Muhammad via Ishmael, fruit of Abraham's union with the serving wench Hagar. And what about all those cousins from Noah's brothers? If Abe's God had spent a few moments considering, he might have foreseen problems.That evening we stayed in Awata, a village near Nablus where the children sang about red tomatoes. There were tales of horror and violence too – there is no escaping the bloodied history in this land – but it never became overwhelming, as I'd expected. Hassan, our host, was keen to enthuse about the Masar: "It was like a light coming on here," he said. "We got connected to the outside world and that makes us feel hope. Everyone in the village is always asking about when the next walkers are coming."Like most Palestinian villages, Awata has long since burst out of its ancient walled settlement and sprawled along the hill. But what is fascinating is that, amid the concrete and graffiti, there are sudden glimpses of an ancient world. When we chatted about water resources, Hassan jumped up and hauled open a trapdoor under our feet. Below us was a vast echoing cavern. "It's a Roman water tank," he explained. "We've got three of them."After a huge feast of chicken, freshly made bread, pickles, salads and yoghurt, Hejazi and I bedded down on mattresses in the living room and slept.Next morning we started out at 8am, meandering through olive groves and wheat fields. Scents of Persian thyme, wild sage and oregano drifted up from beneath our tramping feet. We stopped at a spring to drink delicious clear water, then pressed on, meeting other walkers as we climbed through meadows of scarlet poppies and butterflies to Jabal Aurma, a bronze age fortress. One of the shocks of doing this path is that the countryside is lovely. Travellers have been returning from the Holy Land with scornful appraisals of its beauty for many centuries. Herman Melville is typically bleak: "Bleached-leprosy-encrustations of curses-old cheese-bones of rocks," he wrote. The image of an ill-fated land has proven hard to budge.On top of Jabal Aurma we discovered six vast underground storage rooms carved from solid rock, presumably to supply the fort during prolonged sieges. There is never any doubt in Palestine that this land has been a chaotic crossroads for civilisations, armies and tribes for a very long time – that is what makes it fascinating and worth exploring.Later that day, we emerged on the edge of a grand escarpment looking down to the Jordan Valley, around 800ft below sea level. The wheat fields around us were tiny rocky terraces splashed with the yellow of wild dill. It's a difficult place to farm, and we came across Shakir Murshid with his wife and six children busily harvesting wheat by hand. On a sage bush nearby was the complete shed skin of a viper.That night we stayed in Douma, a cluster of old stone dwellings long since overgrown by the straggling concrete of modernity. Rural life, however, was pretty much the same as ever: woodpeckers tapped at the trees, wheat fields surrounded the houses and men rode past on donkeys. We spent the evening by a campfire listening to locals sing and play homemade flutes. The patch of flat ground where we had built our fire turned out to be a Roman wine press, empty sadly. Once again we slept in someone's living room, under the eyes of family martyrs.Our third day took us further south near the springs of Ain Samiya, now a water source for Jerusalem. We spotted chameleons in the bushes, whistling rock hyraxes and huge flightless crickets, then clambered up a delightful gorge, taking narrow shepherds' trails along the cliff face. By evening we approached the village of Kufer Malik, a place that was to hold perhaps the biggest surprises. The first came at a huge hacienda-style house, where the whole family came out to invite us in for coffee. "Do you speak Spanish?" asked the husband. "I learned it in Columbia."Kufer Malik, bizarrely, is a little enclave of Latin America in Palestine. When we found our hosts for the night, the old man of the family, Hosni al-Qaq, explained: "In the 30s when times were hard here, my uncle decided to seek his fortune in America. He ended up selling shirts in Columbia, then got a shop and then a supermarket. He became very rich." Hosni smiled ruefully. "My father on the other hand stayed behind and was killed in the first intifada.""And did other men go?""Oh yes, lots and lots, and then they spread out into other countries. There are now more than 800 descendants of this village in Brazil alone."The effect of this exposure to the outside world on Kufer Malik has been electrifying. The men are hard-working and ambitious; the women assertive and independent-minded. Hiba, our hostess, had been to the Côte d'Azur to see what it was like. "We camped on the beach in Nice," she said proudly. "It was lovely."So was her cooking: roast chicken, rice, vegetables and musahn, a flat bread cooked with sumac and onions."What would you do if a Jewish person came to stay?" I asked."No problem," they all said eagerly. "We've had one Jewish lady from America already and another from Brazil. Everyone is welcome here."After dinner, the men sat out in the yard smoking shisha pipes. When they spoke Spanish, they looked like pure Columbians to me: all macho body language and grand gestures. When they spoke Arabic, they were Palestinian farmers again.Our fourth day took us to Abu Taybah, home to the West Bank's only brewery – owned and run by a Palestinian Christian family (there are around 55,000 Palestinian Christians). After a glass of deliciously cold lager we moved on, walking down Wadi Qult to the marvellous fourth-century cliff-side monastery of St George, then on to Jericho.The end of the Masar comes in Hebron, whose old city has been a dangerous flashpoint over the years. Zionist settlers have seized buildings in the market area – which has to be roofed with netting now to prevent rocks and rubbish raining down on shoppers. All of Abraham's progeny want a piece of the action here and the mosque has been forcibly divided to create a Muslim and a Jewish section. On one side, I found Indian Muslims praying and taking photos; on the other Jews from New York and Tel Aviv were doing the same. The Tomb of the Patriarchs, of course, looks pretty similar from either angle, though neither community, sadly, ever gets to see that fact.Out in the street a shopkeeper invited me to have coffee. He was sitting with Micha, a former Israeli soldier turned peace activist, a young freckle-faced man with a friendly smile. What had convinced him to adopt what many Israelis see as a traitorous approach?"Small things. It started when I was a soldier, talking at checkpoints to Palestinians, seeing what the settlers were doing, and what we were doing to protect them."At that moment a Palestinian lady came over. They introduced themselves. "So now you work for peace?" she asked. "But I have to ask: did you kill any Palestinians?"Around the shopfront where people were taking coffee and chatting, everyone froze. There was a long silence while Micha considered his reply. "I'd rather not say.""I think you should," the woman said. "For any reconciliation, you have to."A murmur of agreement passed through the small crowd. Micha thought again. "The truth is, I don't know. At Abu Sinaina we did shoot, but it was from far away.""At Abu Sinaina? Then you killed at least five."There was a pause and then Micha nodded. The Palestinian lady smiled. "You are welcome at my house. You must come for lunch."They exchanged addresses and Micha promised that he would visit.What is remarkable about the Masar walk is that religion and politics mostly take a back seat, allowing ordinary people to climb out of the foxholes of prejudice and suspicion. When that happens, Palestine becomes so much more than a brief and violent television news clip. I saw gazelles running on hillsides, tasted the local cuisine and enjoyed conversation on everyday topics. I climbed down inside bronze age burial chambers, tracked hyenas into their lairs inside Roman tombs and lay on the benches in Nablus's marvellous Turkish baths, discussing the best way to pickle olives. The problems of Israel's land-grabbing tactics remain: the wall is still standing and unsmiling teenage soldiers at checkpoints demand to see passports.The Masar is not for those who want private rooms or special treatment. It is intense and sometimes emotionally draining. There were moments when I felt rage about the injuries and injustices. But, more than anything, this was a life-affirming and exhilarating experience that will stay with me like few others.PalestineMiddle EastWalking holidaysIsraelMiddle EastKevin Rushbyguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Though Oman is the tourist hotspot of the Arabian peninsula, the remote island of Masirah is barely known, but that may soon changeThe moonlight stippled the breakers with silver. On the beach a large loggerhead turtle was busy excavating, flipping flurries of sand away behind her. There was a 10-minute pause as she laid her eggs, then, the moonlight illuminating the barnacles on her shell, she heaved her way back to the sea and slithered out of sight. An unforgettable Masirah episode.Masirah, an island off the south-east coast of Oman, is the latest area of the country to open up to tourism. Visitors who venture beyond the capital, Muscat, tend to take in the jaw-dropping Musandum fjords in the north and even the desert landscapes of the Empty Quarter, but very few have so far made it to Masirah.Breezes off the Arabian Sea mean Masirah is 10 degrees cooler than the baking mainland for much of the year, and it has outstanding natural attractions – not least vast numbers of nesting turtles. Getting there, however, involves a 500km drive from Muscat, followed by a 1½-hour ferry crossing. Fortunately, the route down the coast makes for a memorable trip.The first leg of my journey, with driver Said, took us past the al-Hajar mountains, shouldering up dramatically from the coastal plain. At the village of Fins we stopped at a perfect deserted beach where pale sand edged into plate-glass water beside a limestone cliff weathered to the texture of a giant loofah.To reach the southern coast and the ferry to Masirah, we had to skirt the Wahiba Sands, 4,800 square miles of desert made famous by explorer Wilfred Thesiger. Dunes stretched out of sight, fine sand rising off them like smoke as the winds reshaped and resculpted them.The Masirah ferry cast off after sunset and ploughed across the strait under a full moon. Next morning I took stock of my new surroundings: a desert island amid turquoise water. Goats and camels foraged in parched scrub and low acacia bushes, often wandering across the road. There's an interior of barren hills and eerie alien landscapes. Footprints and tyre marks on golden beaches leave black tracks as they penetrate to volcanic sediment below.The island's tiny town, Hilf, has a few shops and a handful of cafes and restaurants. You can camp on the beaches and there are a couple of small guesthouses.Watersports are a key attraction, and kayaking will soon be added to the list. "This is a paradise for kitesurfers," says Alex Friesl, manager of Kite Boarding Oman (kiteboarding-oman.com), who rents out equipment and runs a Bedouin-style camp on the island's west coast. "There's always wind here, the lagoon is very shallow and the water is warm: it's ideal."Wildlife is the other lure. During a boat trip, I saw a pod of half a dozen bottlenose dolphins, often curving out of the water in pairs. Flying fish skipped along the surface and, occasionally, a leathery turtle's head protruded before descending again in clouds of bubbles.Over spangled emperor fish in the island's Turkish restaurant, I met Andy Willson, one of Masirah's marine conservationists. "Four species of turtle nest here and the island is number one in the world for loggerheads," he said. "And there's a school of 80 or so humpback whales, unique in that they are not migratory." The island is also frequented by 300 species of bird, many of them rare.Oman Air is considering flights from Muscat to Masirah next year, as well as a ferry service. If this sounds ominous, the government is committed to keeping visitor levels sustainable, and the conservationists are busy. "Masirah has a low population and has so far been isolated, so there has been a breathing space for conservation measures," says Willson, but we intend for that to continue."• Oman Air (08444 822309, omanair.com) flies from Heathrow to Muscat from £317 return. For vehicle rental and other information see omantourism.gov.om. Masirah has four hotels, including the luxury Swiss-Bel Hotel (oman-masirah.swiss-belhotel.com) but there are very few restrictions on camping OmanMiddle EastWater sports holidaysPeter Cartyguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Few travellers visit Algeria these days but the country's capital – famous for its brilliant light – has a beauty that belies its recent violent historyIsn't is strange that a gigantic country with some of the most beautiful coastline on Earth, a luminous hinterland of mountains vast and deserts idle, crowned with the most alluring capital city I know, should be just three hours from London and almost unvisited by travellers?We used to go: well-to-do Victorians loved wintering in Algeria. But modernity has been cruel to this great gorgeous land, and even by the standards of war-torn Africa, Algeria's is an awful story. We associate it with the violent end of French colonialism, civil war in the 90s that cost up to 200,000 lives, and sporadic terror attacks. But this is a gross underestimation of a magical place, and a delightful and beguiling people.With its Phoenician, Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman, Barbary pirate and French colonial heritage, Algeria has a hoard to dazzle any enthusiast of culture, architecture, literature, art, design, ornithology, botany or geography. I went, apprehensively, because I was following migrating swallows from Cape Town to Wales. At the airport, they impounded my binoculars – unwelcome because of "security". Policemen toted Kalashnikovs. "Security!" everyone said, cheerfully. "Bon courage!"As it turned out, I felt as safe there as anywhere in Africa, and had the pleasure of discovering a world beyond guidebooks. I made lucky decisions: with my money and my visa running out, I resolved to throw all that remained of both at Algiers – "Alger la blanche" (Algiers the white). I loved it all: the foaming purple bougainvillea; the scents of mimosa, pine, spice and coffee; the roads floating through hillsides above the great sea; the Ottoman palaces; the scent of grilling lamb in the warren of the casbah; the harbour front with its snowy colonial buildings endlessly colonnaded (the old post office looks like a palace of ice-cream; no wonder Le Corbusier was in awe of Algiers) and the rich dark cafes… I wanted never to leave.The casbah is a Unesco world heritage site, a burnt umber miracle, sweet with the song of goldfinches. The neo-Byzantine cathedral of Notre Dame D'Afrique is remarkable: the inscription within, "Our Lady of Africa, pray for us and the muslims", is a hopeful sentiment.In the casbah, older cafe owners will tell you how they survived French paratroopers. ("We lived in the walls", one said. "In the walls, you understand?") The Great Mosque of Algiers is one of the few remaining examples of Almoravid architecture, with a 14th-century minaret. Just inland from the port, off the main street, is where most of the restaurants are. Follow your nose: mine led me to the most delicious lamb chops I have ever eaten – and as a Welshman I take chops seriously. And Algerian coffee is superb. The Martyrs' Monument is a strange and rather awful triple-pillared concrete structure. It looks like what it is – an outraged howl of mourning raised to the sky.All Algiers goes down to the seafront to relax: here are lovely spaces in which to meet the locals (Algerians treasure their few visitors) and to wonder at the shattered piles of fishermen's houses below the sea wall, where people lived just above the waves.My other good decision was to stay at the expensive but unforgettable El Djazair hotel, popularly known by its former title, the St George. The new wing is excellent. Crucially, the efficient management will fax you a confirmation of your reservation, which you will need for your visa if you go independently. (The Algerian embassy issues visas on the 21st of each month.) Once in Algeria, you are at liberty to travel where you will.If God were to grant Algeria an overdue break, and lift her out of the grasping claws of President Bouteflika's clique and beyond the fists of its tiny extremist minority, Algiers would be the San Francisco of the region, gateway to deserts, mountains and coasts beyond reckoning. (Reputable companies offer tours to Tamanrasset, the Touareg capital of the Sahara.) In the spring the Kabylia region, in the north-east, is said to be like paradise. The coastal town of Tipaza, west of Algiers, is so beautiful that French writer Albert Camus said it taught him the meaning of glory – love without limit.As it is, Algeria has the clearest light I have ever seen, and she needs you – to see her, to appreciate her and, in beginning to know her, to help her out of the shadows.• El Djazaïr Hotel (hoteleldjazair.dz) has doubles from £195. British Airways (ba.com) flies from Heathrow to Algiers from £260 return. From 2011 Explore (0844 499 0901, explore.co.uk) has a three-night Algiers & Ancient Kingdoms break (plus optional excursions to Cherchell and Tipaza), from £937 including flights, B&B and tour guide. AlgeriaCity breaksAfricaguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

His search for the exotic paradise of his childhood proved elusive, but 25 years on our writer discovers a new side to Bahrain, the 'Kingdom of the Two Seas'Time rolls neatly back as I step out of the airport into the steam-room atmosphere of the August night. It is 25 years since my family left Bahrain, but this sensation feels so familiar, I might have been here yesterday, stumbling about behind misted spectacles in the stunning heat.I press my face against the windows of the chauffeur-driven car as it swoops across a swathe of newly reclaimed land around Manama, capital of the small island country. Here and there, lonely skyscrapers rise from the dust. The city is glamorous now – but not quite so glamorous as it seemed to me then, as an eight-year-old boy from Shropshire, dazzled by swimming pools and hotel brunches.This island kingdom in the Arabian Gulf was my paradise. I spent two years here and fell in love with its heat and light, its stark, rocky interior and lush palm groves, its ancient monuments and rambling souks. So it is with trepidation that I have returned, fearing the change wrought by development.In the hushed twilight of the Ritz Carlton, I wander through the grounds after dinner and lie on a damp sunlounger in the darkness of the hotel's beach. Behind me, the desert. Above me, the huge sky. Before me, the inky black sea. There, Persia; there, Arabia; and far, far over the curve of the earth, Africa and India. I'm on an island in the middle of the world. Since the third millennium BC, Bahrain has stood at a crossroads, attracting imperial powers – Babylon, Persia, Portugal, Britain – and welcoming immigrants.The world is vast – I feel it – and the island and I are very small. That is how I felt Bahrain as a child; now, I feel it again. And next morning this instinct is reflected by history as I wander around the National Museum, a low building of pale stone on the waterfront in Manama.Archaeologists once imagined that in ancient times the island was a vast necropolis for a neighbouring culture. How else to account for the tens of thousands of burial mounds across its desert? But in recent decades the ruins of towns and temples have been uncovered, yielding a hoard of little treasures – delicate carnelian jewellery, lustrous pottery, votive figurines and tiny seals – discs etched with religious and erotic scenes involving men and gods, animals and horned monsters.The story of their discovery is laid out here and in the lofty galleries of the new Qal'at al-Bahrain Museum. It sits beside the country's richest ancient site, where the remains of six successive settlements are crowned by a gargantuan 16th-century Portuguese fort. Most spine-tingling is the suggestion that Bahrain was the land of Dilmun, so admired by the Sumerians for its merchant ships and lush vegetation that they conflated it with paradise. It's an idea that resonates in me, of course, and a gift for the local tourist board.Now Bahrain's springs are brackish from overuse and I find the quiet old road through the fertile north is a dusty four-lane highway, the roadside palm groves replaced by concrete villas. The desert, too, proves elusive. By the time I find a map that shows wide, pristine stretches in the far south, my erratic pursuit of it has reached such a feverish pitch that I fear I have unnerved Yasser, my laconic driver, and I relent.My mood is subdued, but Yasser takes a different route home, a little road through coastal villages and the Bahrain of memory. Tamarind and fig trees spill over walls and boats bob in placid bays. In the village of Karrana, where Yasser was born, the air is heavy with mint and the only sounds are birdsong and the call of the muezzin.In Manama, I return to the fish market, where creatures of the deep – silver, blue and yellow, gauzy pink – transfixed me long ago, piled high on shiny platters in row upon row of tiny tiled stalls. In the souk behind, most of the traders are from India now, but the atmosphere of colourful chaos prevails.My heart soon draws me across the causeway to the island town of Muharraq, where my family lived. I'm thrilled to find it in the throes of a vigorous cultural revival, centred on efforts to restore old mansions, mosques and warehouses – the legacy of the pearl trade, around which the town's life revolved for centuries.Concert halls and art galleries, craft centres, cafes and libraries have sprung up in the whitewashed alleyways around the new Sheikh Ebrahim Centre for Culture and Research. Their interiors are lovely, setting sleek modern furniture against the fabric of their historic homes – heavy, elaborate doors and ceilings of mangrove and palm fronds. And I'm told there's more to come – including, to my delight, a House of Architecture, where my father John's elegant drawings of the town – already published in a book, Al Muharraq – will be displayed.My nostalgia for old Bahrain is now mingled with excitement about its future. I want to go back in the months when it is cooler, when flamingoes come to the wild Hawar islands in the south. I want to see the new National Theatre in Manama, and the museum of pearl diving planned for Muharraq. And I want to investigate further the most intriguing of my new discoveries – fidjeri, the wild songs of sweet sorrow that the pearl divers of old learned from demons in the mosque at Diraz – and in which I fancy the soul of these islands is enshrined.BahrainMiddle Eastguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

If your passport's going to expire in the next nine months, you can save a lot of time and money by renewing it nowIf you've arrived back from holiday knowing your passport will expire before next summer's trip, consider renewing it now: leave it and you run the risk of forgetting until your only option is a more expensive, and possibly stressful, last-minute renewal.You don't have to wait until your passport expires to renew it. If there's any time left on your old one, the Identity and Passport Service (IPS) will add it to your new one, up to a maximum of nine months. It is £77.50 to renew a 10-year, 32-page adult passport using the standard service, which usually takes three to four weeks, longer at busy times of year, to process and send out your new passport.The cost – which has almost doubled over the past five years – is bad enough but leave it until the last minute and you'll pay £112.50 for the one-week service or £129.50 for a one-day renewal. You have to make an appointment to apply in person for these high-speed services by calling Passport Adviceline on 0300 222 0000.The cost of renewing a child's passport is £49 for the standard service, £96.50 for the one-week service and £109.50 for the premium service.There is no way around these costs if you want to go abroad unless you were born on or before 2 September 1929, in which case your passport is free. The IPS says it does not make a profit and that fees are all used to cover the costs of providing passport services in the UK. Part of the fee – the consular premium – is added by the Foreign & Commonwealth Office and covers the cost of providing consular help to British nationals who find themselves in difficulty overseas.The IPS recommends you use the Check & Send service offered by main post office branches.With this, you take your completed application form and supporting documents to the post office where they will check you have filled in the form correctly and that you have included all the supporting documents and fee. They will send off everything to the IPS by secure Royal Mail special delivery.Applications via Check & Send are less likely to be returned or delayed because of queries, and are usually processed more quickly than standard postal applications. You can expect to receive your new passport in about two weeks, but you pay more — an £8 handling charge to the post office on top of the standard application fee.IPS forms are available at post office branches, Passport Adviceline on 0300 222 000, or online at passports.ips.gov.uk. You can find a full table of passport fees at direct.gov.uk.If you are an Irish national living in the UK, beware delays of 12 weeks for renewals, after an industrial dispute at the Passport Office in Dublin.Saving moneyConsumer affairsJill Papworthguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Just don't call it glamping. "I don't really like the word," says Matt Bate, as he contentedly surveys his handcrafted glade: a treehouse here, a see-saw there, a hammock hoisted a safe distance from a swing. "This is all a bit more Heath Robinson."

A preview of the photographs on display at the new 'Under Attack' exhibition at the London Transport Museum.

From a beach in Harry Potter to the Brief Encounter train station: 10 locations around Britain for film lovers.

John Gimlette heads for Cappadocia to explore a magical subterranean world.

Online advertisements will come under the regulation of the Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) in 2011.