Tag: travel posters
Once a small village in the 12th century, Moscow today boasts its position amongst the largest cities of Europe and -of course- its 850-year-long history. Contrary to common belief, it is neither rather misty and foggy nor cold and bleak. Illuminated structures, avenues with luxury stores and buildings reminiscent of dreamlands are the very proof of this.
“If I invaded Kiev, it means I have conquered Russia’s feet. If I invade St. Petersburg, it means I conquered Russia’s head. However, a Moscow invasion means that I have conquered Russia’s heart.” This quote from Napoleon Bonaparte, revels secrets about Moscow.
Ranking amongst the 10 largest cities of the world, NMoscow enjoys its favorable position between Oka and Volga rivers. With the number of millionaries markedly higher than other cities, Moscow has granted the fame: The city of millionaries.
Take in the sights… and take home your best pictures ever. Go ahead, leave your heart. You can’t help leaving a piece of it, anyway. It will get lost in the crowded, bustling streets of Chinatown, the picturesque Victorian “painted ladies,” the vast green expanse of Golden Gate Park.
San Francisco is a photographer’s paradise, with its endless array of impossible-seeming angles, ever-changing show of light and shadow and treasure trove of old and new architecture. It is also a city that will make a photographer out of the uninitiated – one simply must capture a part of San Francisco.
Reduce the country’s most beautiful city to a mere few images? Impossible. But for starters, here are a few favorite shots from photographer J’vIark E. Gibson-who’s lucky enough to make a living at it. Gibson has been using Canon equipment for 22 years. “It’s performed extremely well for me-I’ve never been tempted to switch,” notes Gibson.
Cable Cars… Poetry in Motion
They are the only National Historic Landmarks that move-and perhaps the single most recognizable icon of the City by the Bay. The cable car system represents the charming contradictions of San Francisco at its best: functional frivolity, 120-year-old remnants of the old world stubbornly and happily bustling along with the new. Adventurers can still ride along on the outside-just hold on tight around those curvy streets and plunging hillsides.
California Street, at the crest of Nob Hill
Gibson explains, “The perspective is from the top of Nob Hill, looking downtown. From here, you can get a great front end view, because tbe cable car runs up and down California. And, if you’re at tbe right cross streets, you can get wonderful sideviews of other moving cars, or people getting on and off. In the background, tbe view stretches all the way downtown, and beyond to the towers of the Bay Bridge. It’s a fantastic mixture of visual elements.”
According to Gibson, time of day is important for this shot. It’s best with good frontal lighting, so make sure the sun is behind you.
Fisherman’s Wharf… The Fabled Dock of the Bay
The pungent aroma of fresh seafood and the irrepressible pulse of seafaring commerce beckon us to discover the sights and sounds of the incomparable Fisherman’s Wharf. The Wharf draws in 87 percent of San Francisco’s visitors-unquestionably its perennial catch of the day. Enjoy the teeming humanity right along with the succulent crab, shrimp and fresh sourdough, as you stroll through the waterfront marketplace. But calm tranquillity is always as near as the water’s edge, where colorful fishing boats punctuate the horizon.
Docked fishing boats
“The vantage point of this shot is from the pier, approximately eight feet above the water. This tight close up shot emphasizes the repetitive pattern of the fishing vessels. Use a slow shutter speed and a tripod or pier railing to prevent camera movement and to get a clear sharp-focused shot,” advises Gibson.
Golden Gate Bridge… Gates of Heaven
“I don’t know who decided to paint it orange, but God bless them,” declared the author Susan Cheever, speaking of the Golden Gate Bridge. And whether it provides your doorway into the great city or your conduit to the neighborly delights of Sausalito and Marin County, the sight of its 4,200 foot expanse at sunset is not one you’re likely to forget. But bring your camera just in case.
From north of the Bridge-Marin headlands road
“Drive across the bridge and get on the elevated road that goes along the Marin headlands shoreline,” says Gibson. “As you drive west along that road, looking back you can find a spot on the road where you align the north pair of towers of the Golden Gate Bridge with downtown San Francisco-it’s a great shot with the bridge in the foreground and the skyline behind it. You can get a detail of the Bridge tower with the Bank of America and the Transamerica Pyramid behind it. It’s a very popular shot for people who want both elements.”
When conversing with Mark Gibson about shooting San Francisco, his excited reverence is irrepressible. “Visually, this is an incredibly rich place. There is such variety, with the hills and the water, the bridges and the architecture. And the lighting is phenomenal-fog, clouds and clear blue skies in rapid succession. There’s always another perspective. How could anyone get tired of it?” Here are a few tips for shooting in San Francisco:
Don’t let San Francisco’s trademark fog make you camera-shy. It can add a dramatic mood to your shots, but use a fast film for clarity. When photographing a moving cable car-or from a moving cable car-be sure you’re holding the camera steady and press the shutter release gently.
Here on the Marina Yacht Harbor jetty at the foot of Baker Street, our feathered friend offers a slightly different angle of a familiar landmark: the majestic Golden Gate Bridge.
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Route 66 that crosses through the western United States from Chicago to the location of Los Angeles is an iconic American highway.
The Mother Road, as it was referred to as has been the subject of songs (“Get your kicks on Route 66.”) The backdrop of quite a couple of movies, and even a component of a typical Disney movie (Cars.) Traveling Route 66 is really a dream for some Americans, rather. Here are some fundamental reasons and know why.
Route 66 was developed in 1925 when Congress decided to join many small roads between Chicago, Illinois, and Los Angeles, California. At that time, traveling by car was a brand new concept, so this concept has contributed to the evolution of U.S. highways. As soon as people began generating this trip, they leave places essential to eat, sleep and put gas in their car. Enter the lot of a now-famous stops along Route 66.
Motels actually got their start at this point in time. Travelers needed a place they could drive right up to rent a room to rest before continuing their journey. Not surprisingly, some motels were much more elaborate than others. The Wigwam Motel in San Bernardino, California, and Holbrook, Arizona are some of the most famous and well known to date.
Diners also became popular and necessary along the Mother Road. Travelers need to eat, so people started providing fast and cost restaurants that provided standards like fried catfish, fries, chili, chicken pies and milkshakes. The 66 Diner in Albuquerque, NM is an example of a dinner that provides the food in a style similar to what was available in the early days of Route 66.
Traveling Route 66 also required an approach to fill the gas tank of the car. For this reason, the home based business gas station exploded from the start. Although the stations used to be necessary in a city, now people now, these days producing long trips needed a chance on a typical gas, which provided a lucrative opportunity organization for men and women who lived near Highway 66.
Unfortunately, today much of the Route 66 passes through the invisible travelers because of the motorway program. Route 40 was built to cover about the exact route west along Route 66. This caused the closure of many stores of the diners and motels that were once very busy. While Route 66 fans can still travel over the road, however. It really is an exceptional method to see America in a multi destination path that takes you through the perspective of the first passenger car.
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Career guidance can be a critical intervention for residents of large cities like New York where the network of educational, training, and employing institutions is too complex and differentiated to be readily understood. Without informed help during the decision-making process, many city dwellers find it difficult to plan courses of action that will enable them to make the most of their career options.
As New Yorkers attempt to negotiate the interlocking educational, training, and employment structures, the mediation of guidance counselors may ease their progress into and through the labor market and help them to surmount institutional barriers that restrict their range of choice. Since career decisions are made by both youths and adults, an effective guidance system must aim to serve people of all ages.
A person’s career options are affected not only by his personal attributes, but also, to a significant degree, by the availability of family and community resources which can be devoted to the development of his potential and to the pursuit of his goals. “Guidance specialists share with most Americans, the belief that a man is largely in control of his own fate. However, guidance has paid relatively little attention to the ways in which the economic and social status of some families restricts the opportunities for education and work available to their children.”
In New York, for example, at one extreme we find people with sufficient resources to select and realize any of a large number of career possibilities. At the other extreme are those whose circumstances drastically restrict their opportunities. In the first instance, while guidance may provide a measure of reinforcement to the decision-making process, the determinants for successful outcomes preexist. In the latter instance, socioeconomic barriers to the realization of choice severely limit the potential contribution of guidance to effective decision making.
Most New York residents fall between these two extremes. Few are so well situated that they never require or seek formal help in decision making. On the other hand, few are so unalterably disadvantaged that they cannot derive some benefit from guidance, especially if it is combined with supporting services. Guidance cannot produce major social transformations, but skillful intervention can contribute to decisions that may improve an individual’s prospects.Certain aspects of the New York labor market which bear upon the provision of guidance services in the city are set forth below. Many of these are discussed in other chapters in this volume.
Related Link: New York New York Website
The Dionysiac Theatre is the sunniest spot in Athens. The tourists know it and bring their teabaskets. The lizards know it and steal out to bask on marble chairs dedicated to priests and magistrates. The Athenian audiences of classical times must also have known it as they sat there the whole of a spring day with the sun in their eyes and the rock behind them glowing like a furnace.
The existing remains of the Theatre of Dionysos are a complex of many periods and the fundamental questions whether there was a raised stage before the time of the Hellenistic theatre and whether the stage buildings in the classical period were of a permanent nature have not yet been settled to everyone’s satisfaction.
It is generally agreed that the orchestra with its central altar of Dionysos was originally occupied by both chorus and actors. There is also fairly general agreement that no stone auditorium existed before the Lykourgan theatre in the second half of the fourth century B.C.
The actual remains on the site may be divided into four periods: 1. Pre-Lykourgan; 2. Lykourgan; 3. Hellenistic; 4. Roman.
The Lykourgan Theatre was built in consequence of a decree of the Boulé in 342 B.C. and completed before the death of Lykourgos in 326 B.C. This leaves a long period of at least a century and a half for the pre-Lykourgan Theatre.
The oldest remains are six blocks (SM 1) of a curved polygonal wall of limestone, generally believed to be sixth-century, some 100 m. eastnortheast of the Old Temple of Dionysos, which were identified by Dörpfeld as part of the original orchestra. By plotting an imaginary circle on the evidence of the stones he met a fragment of wall (J 3) on its west side and a cutting (A) in the rock on the east side, north of the six blocks, which he thought were part of the circumference.
Many later authorities have rejected the evidence of either A or J 3 or both but nearly all agree that SM 1 supported a curved terrace which formed the boundary of the orchestra itself or had an orchestra of smaller circumference placed upon it. A fragment of polygonal masonry (SM 3) similar to the six stones, which is north of the west end of the Old Temple of Dionysos may have sustained a road or path rising from the level of the Temple to that of the orchestra.
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While you’re atop the Acropolis, look carefulIy for the delicate, little Ionic TempIe of Athena Nike (to your right as you approach the main entrance to the Acropolis, located almost over the stairs), which still has same of its original friezes depicting battles with the Persians and the Gods of Olympus; the temple is dedicated to the “WingIess Victory”-wingless, else victory can fly away…
Then, walk to the Erechtheum, a temple perched on the originaI site of the even older Temple to Athena, which is supposed to have stood on the pIot of Iand where Athena and Poseidon battled it out for God-supremacy of Athens. Athena brought forth an olive tree (there is still a little tree in front of the temple!) and Poseidon smote the earth and brought forth sea-water. You’ll probably remember the Temple best for its Caryatides (or Maidens), six of them easily and gracefully supporting a heavy porch ceiling on their heads. The Erechtheum records the disasters of Athens. We do not know when it was begun, but it is recorded that in 409 it was unfinished.
The original date of the little temple to Nike Apteros (the Wingless Victory) is not precisely known. It is obvious, however, that it must date from about the same time as the other Propylaea buildings. One might suppose that the architects of the Propylaea, when they found their plans crippled by the neighbourhood of this sacred site, set themselves to make a virtue of necessity; since their entrance buildings were curtailed, they may have consoled themselves by balancing the group with this little gem of Ionic architecture.
To find a temple outside the sanctuary gates is unusual, and the fact that its position never strikes one as strange is just another tribute to the skill with which the proportions of the building are fitted to the site. The spot must have been sacred to Athena from quite early times and was associated with her in her victorious aspect as “Athena Nike.” Then, as the process of differentiation continued, the precinct was said to be sacred to Victory, and Athena’s name was dropped. But the old wooden image kept on the spot was really an image of Athena and not of a Winged Victory. So the pretty tale was invented that the ground and afterwards the temple were dedicated to a Wingless Victory who would never fly away.
Less than three hundred and fifty years ago, the little temple of Athena Nike was still standing, nearly intact, damaged not at all by men and very little by time. Suddenly it disappeared from travellers’ accounts and visitors’ recollection. It had been dismantled to its lowest courses, and the blocks had been employed by the Turks to build retaining walls and a battery at this western outpost of their fortress of the Acropolis. Smooth wallblocks and delicately carved architectural members were with equal unconcern employed for this new enterprise.
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Greece has always looked toward the sea and lived by it. Of necessity she must continue to do so. Because of her geographical position and because of the limited resources of her land, the Greeks have been a maritime people since the earliest times.
The mountains which break up the land seem to push the people into the sea, and indeed they make land travel and land communications so difficult that by comparison sea travel has always seemed simple. The land itself is so lacking in fertility that extensive agriculture is impossible. Thus the Greeks have been forced to import a large part of their food and to turn to the sea to gain their livelihood.
In Greece, the sea seems to be everywhere. The Aegean, the Ionian, and the Mediterranean all wash Greek shores, and these shores are so cut up and so strewn with islands that the sea penetrates everywhere. The coastlines and islands in turn shelter the sea and do away with the fear men have always had of vast unbroken stretches of water.
The Greeks are not such a people as would fear the sea, no matter how far it stretched. By nature they are adventurous and enterprising. Their love of adventure makes them good sailors, and added to this their capacity for enterprise makes them the best of sea-merchants.
Seamanship is an old Greek tradition. Children have been trained from the cradle to become expert sailors. It has been customary for seamen to take aboard ships and sailboats children ranging in age from 6 to 13 so as to accustom them to the sea. When an island was sighted, the children were called on deck, told the name of the island, its ports, and the most navigable routes around it. If, on the next trip, they had forgotten, they were punished. In like manner, children were thrown into the sea to teach them to swim. Nothing was overlooked in an effort to make them skillful and brave seamen.
The skill of Greeks at sea includes not only seamanship but also trading. The Greek was and is a sailor-merchant. There has never been absentee ownership of Greek ships nor have Greeks put their money in enterprises involving ships run by others. Even today, when there is a class of rich Greek shipowners owning sometimes large numbers of ships, such owners have nearly always been identified with ships and are in general successful sailor-merchants.
Bermuda is, in many respects, a little country, but break it down to its smallest common denominator and it is a small city of about 65,000 people. There is little difference between Front Street and Main Street, except that Front Street, as a rule, is far more prosperous. To know and appreciate Bermuda, it is well to know Bermudians, and no firmer or pleasanter first step can be taken by the visitor than to enter the door of a club with interests similar to his.The Visitors’ Service Bureau can fill in current place and hour of meetings and any other information.
Whether you are cycling, or riding in a carriage, car or bus, remember that in Bermuda the rule of the road is to the left and in walking along the roads and lanes (sidewalks are unknown outside the towns) keep to the right. In “touring” Bermuda, the longest trip you can make is from H.M. Dockyard to St. George’s, all of twenty-three miles, and across the Island the widest stretch is only two and one-quarter miles. The highest hill you can climb is Town Hill in Smith’s Parish, 259 feet above sea level.
Even the most latent horticultural interest is excited by the masses of spectacular flowers in Bermuda. Their variety is fascinating, their beauty is astonishing and their origins are hard to believe.
Bermuda was one of the last really habitable spots in the world to be inhabited, and until Sir George Somers landed in 1609, nature had been in full control. There were then a mere one hundred and fifty varieties of plants including the seventeen indigenous ones. Apparently the others, similar to plants native to Mexico, the West Indies and the southeastern coast of the United States, had floated in on seaweed or had grown from seeds brought by migrating birds.
Now there are more than 1,500 varieties of plants. A surprising number of Bermuda’s early globe-roaming sailors extended their investigations of foreign ports beyond the waterfront to the flora of a new country, and brought back slips and seeds of plants that would ornament the Colony. Here on a coral atoll in the middle of the Atlantic, flowers brought by these seagoing flower-fanciers from Asia, Africa, North and South America and the West Indies have flourished.
In addition to the contributions of sailormen, early governors and their wives frequently brought new species with them, and others arrived in letters. Some plants, such as the loquat, came to the Islands quite by accident. This pretty evergreen is native to Japan, and it arrived in Bermuda only because a ship in distress, with some aboard, was forced into St. George’s Harbor. Now it grows widely, and loquat preserves are a local delicacy.
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The permanent residents of Capri have the same uncanny ability as the Balinese for going about their business oblivious to the tourist hordes around them. Capri’s tourist numbers are even more extraordinary than Bali’s. Although its area is barely four square miles and its population a mere 12,500, Capri plays host to two million visitors a year.
Most are the dreaded day-trippers from Naples and Sorrento-pendolari, the Capresi call them, in description of their incessant to-and-fro motion-who arrive clutching a packed lunch, spend nothing, leave their rubbish, and depart at teatime. During the middle of the day, Capri is best enjoyed by disappearing to the island’s furthermost comers, which can be surprisingly pretty and peaceful. But the long, balmy summer evenings, after the pendolarihave left, are what for me makes Capri a favorite island. This is when the famous Piazzetta, the social hub of Capri town, comes into its own. Tiny and intimate, fringed by animated cafes, it is the perfect place for relaxing and people-watching.
An often-noticed thing about watching people in Capri is that everyone looks highly pleased with life, especially the Capresi themselves. James Money, the island’s social historian, as always has the explanation: “Making money out of the visitors is the dominant activity, and this is done by the islanders with characteristic Italian ingenuity and skill. Because this makes them happy, most of them look happy. A glum face is rarely to be seen.”
Down from the Piazzetta, the terrace of the Grand Hotel Quisisana is another prime spot for an elegant cocktail. Since 1982, Capri’s most splendid hotel has been in the ownership of the Morganos, an old Capresi family of hoteliers. I got to talking to the Quisisana’s immaculately dressed general manager, Dr. Gianfranco Morgano. Aged forty-one, he had just decided to abandon his career as a cardiologist to run the family flagship full-time.
The Quisisana, he reminded me, had originally been built as a sanatorium (its name means, roughly, “Get well here”), so it was appropriate that his first act had been to equip it with a gleaming new fitness center. If you are planning to have a heart attack-and some do when they get the bill-the Quisisana seems a pretty good place to be.
Elsewhere, the Morganos are extending their dynastic rule over Capri’s hotels. The Scalinatella, the island’s second-most highly regarded, is now run by Enrico Morgano, and a new hotel, Casa Morgano, is run by Nicolino Morgano-both brothers of Gianfranco. Needless to say, all look very happy indeed.
Hotels in Capri
Bussola di Hermes Hotel Capri, Anacapri
Regina Cristina Hotel Capri, City
Hotel San Michele Capri, Anacapri
La Floridiana Hotel Capri, Piazzetta
La Bougainville Hotel Anacapri, Anacapri
La Vega Hotel Capri Island, Anacapri
Bristol Hotel Capri, Marina Grande
Relais Maresca Hotel Capri Island, Marina Grande
La Residenza Hotel Capri, Piazzetta
Il Girasole Hotel Capri, Anacapri
Casa Caprile Hotel Anacapri, Anacapri
Attica was a very small country according to modern notions, and Athens the only large city therein. The land barely covered some 700 square miles, with 40 square miles more, if one includes the dependent island of Salamis. It was thus far smaller than the smallest of our American “states” (Rhode Island = 1250 square miles), and was not so large as many American counties.
It was really a triangle of rocky, hill- scarred land thrust out into the Aegean Sea, as if it were a sort of continuation of the more level district of Bœotia. Yet small as it was, the hills inclosing it to the west, the seas pressing it from the northeast and south, gave it a unity and isolation all its own. Attica was not an island; but it could be invaded only by sea, or by forcing the resistance which could be offered at the steep mountain passes towards Bœotia or Megara. Attica was thus distinctly separated from the rest of Greece.
Yet Attica had advantages which more than counterbalanced this grudging of fertility. All Greece, to be sure, was favored by the natural beauty of its atmosphere, seas, and mountains, but Attica was perhaps the most favored portion of all. Around her coasts, rocky often and broken by pebbly beaches and little craggy peninsulas, surged the deep blue Aegean, the most glorious expanse of ocean in the world. Far away spread the azure water, — often foam-crested and sometimes alive with the dolphins leaping at their play, — reaching towards a shimmering sky line where rose “the isles of Greece,” masses of green foliage, or else of tawny rock, scattered afar, to adapt the words of Homer, “like shields laid on the face of the glancing deep.”
Above the sea spread the noble arch of the heavens, — the atmosphere often dazzlingly bright, and carrying its glamour and sparkle almost into the hearts of men. The Athenians were proud of the air about their land.
The third great element, besides the sea and the atmosphere of Athens, was the mountains. One after another the bold hills reared themselves, cutting short all the plainlands and making the farmsteads often a matter of slopes and terraces. Against the radiant heavens these mountains stood out boldly, clearly; revealing all the little gashes and seams left from that long-forgotten day when they were flung forth from the bowels of the earth. None of these mountains was very high: Hymettus, the greatest, was only about 3500 feet; but rising as they often did from a close proximity to the sea, and not from a dwarfing table-land, even the lower hills uplifted themselves with proud majesty.
These hills were of innumerable tints according to their rocks, the hue of the neighboring sea, and the hour of the day. In spring they would be clothed in verdant green, which would vanish before the summer heats, leaving them rosy brown or gray. But whatever the fundamental tone, it was always brilliant; for the Athenians lived in a land where blue sky, blue sea, and the massive rock blent together into such a galaxy of shifting color, that, in comparison, the lighting of almost any northern or western landscape would seem feeble and tame. The Athenians absorbed natural beauty with their native air.
Behind each of these mountain masses is another piece of Attica not visible from Athens. Between Hymettus and the eastward sea lies the Mesogaia Plain. It is larger and more fertile than the plain of the Cephissus, and yet figures little in history, for no highroad passes through it. Attica’s back-parlour, should one say? Behind Pentelicus lies the plain of Aphidnae, lying saucer-like with a ring of hills around it and a piece of rising ground in its centre. The great plain behind Parnes does not belong to Attica but to Bœotia. Parnes is the one landward boundary of the Attic peninsula. Towards the west her soaring ridges dip to Mount Aegaleus, and behind these is the sea-girt Thriasian plain around Eleusis, now reckoned as Attic territory.
The Athenian loved sunshine, and Helios the Sun God was gracious to his prayers. In the Athens of to-day it is reckoned that the year averages 179 days in which the sun is not concealed by clouds one instant; and 157 days more when the sun is not hidden more than half an hour. Ancient Athens was surely not more cloudy. Nevertheless, despite this constant sunshine and a southern latitude, Athens was striken relatively seldom with semitropical heat. The sea was a good friend, bringing tempering breezes. In the short winter there might be a little frost, a little snow, and a fair supply of rain. For the rest of the year, one golden day was wont to succeed another, with the sun and the sea breeze in ever friendly rivalry.
The climate saved the Athenians from being obliged to wage a stern warfare with nature as did the northern peoples. Their life and civilization could be one developed essentially “in the open air”; while, on the other hand, the bracing sea breeze saved them from that enervating lethargy which has ruined so many southern folk. The scanty soil forced them to struggle hard to win a living; unless they yielded to the constant beckoning of the ocean, and sought food, adventure, wealth, and a great empire across the seas.