ALMOUROL

How many castles in the middle of rivers do you know? Not many for sure, as few do exist.
I only know two so far, both visited: one in the Rhine, the Pfalz by Caub, in a small sandy island and Almourol, a solid medieval fortress standing on a granite rocky island in the medium river Tagus. The name Almourol explains it all, although I do not know the exact meaning: it's related to the moors, who built some defensive structure on a site earlier occupied by the romans. After the moors were defeated, the island was given to the Templar Knigts and they built the castle still existing today, with the external walls and towers almost intact, but with the interior a lot ruined. The view from the higher tower is imposing and refreshing, as you may see yourselves, first best by paying a visit ( nearest town is Constância, where lived Camões, the great Portuguese XVI century poet), or, second best, by looking my annexed picture.
If I may argue with myself, there is a third castle I know in the middle of a river: facts are that it is more just a tower than a castle and it was in the middle of a river but it is no more, as the river shore advanced. It is the Belém Tower, in Lisbon, which is a World Heritage site.

THE FORBIDDEN CITY

It was forbidden to non welcomed visitors during the imperial times, it is now available to every one during the opening hours once the entry fee has been paid. I paid mine and was by no means alone: my stay in Beijing coincided with a holiday week for all (comemoration of the declaration of the establishment of Communist China on October the 1st) and the city was crowded with chinese tourists from other Provinces.
One never enters the world's largest palaces complex without some sense of humility and also, in my personal case, with some pride on accomplishing an youth dream of a semi-mithycal nature I had well before the place was declared a WH site. My wanderings in the palatial city took the full day, as I only left with the last ones under the pressure from the staff. Being fully surrounded by a high thick wall plus partially by a large water moat, the Forbidden City does not feel the permanent human turmoil which goes on outside; more than forbidden it is probably secluded. In its conception it was perceived as a place for those happy humans who are far above the other humans, purer and nicer on their superiority. Just get an idea through the nomenclature of some of the building structures: the Gate of Supreme Harmony, the Hall of Preserving Harmony, the Palace of Heavenly Purity, the Palace of Earthly Tranquility, the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the Palace of Tranquil Longevity, the Gate of Divine Might, the East Glorious Gate, and so on!
When I left all these marvellous concepts and skilled adorned rooms it was like falling into the standard routine, hopes and headaches of normal people.

THE MARKET IN NOUAKCHOTT

The market in Nouakchott is as much colourful as you may imagine. There is not much to visit, indeed, apart from two big mosques donated by Saudi Arabia and Morocco and a catholic church near the French Embassy. I may also mention the Presidencial Palace, but this one is not really easy to visit.
For the sake of the truth it has to be mentionned that the city is meerely 59 years old: it was found in order to give the new country, a partition of the French West-Africa, a place were the new leaders could get empowered and meet and the new Embassies have their premises. The French would have preferred to keep the unity of the colony, but the arabic nomads in the North did not favour to become part of an independent black Senegal.
So, if you have one day or two in Nouakchott and have already been at the not-so-far beach where the waves are not that keen you will naturally finish having your time in every market in town. Buyer or not buyer, you will not escape the feeling of popular enjoyment and probably even less the extraordinary colourfulness of the garments and the scents of the food and drink makers. If in doubt see the pictures for the colours; sorry, for the smells the internet does not allow, yet, for them to be felt.

SCHOKLAND "ISLAND"

The highway keeps going on an almost perfect flatland; the same once you leave it and turn right, the same again once you turn right again into a small country road. Then suddenly you notice a very small hill, a higher place your eye would not catch everywhere else but here; on the hill you note some well maintained ancient houses and especially a church. A small museum explains the island's way-of-life and constraints and there is also the old port and dyke protections. This was Schokland Island and is today Schokland "Island".
Let me explain: the place was a very small densely populated island in the Zuiderzee, or Zuider sea, inhabited for centuries by fishermen' families, till the tides increases forced them, poorest of the poor at the time I presume, to complete evacuation. The well known ingenuity of the Dutch people led to the total reclamation of all this area by the 40's of the XXth century, with the new region, to be called Flevoland, adding a reasonable increase to the land size of the country. Proud of its achievements in controlling water and nature, Netherlands proposed and UNESCO endorsed Schokland as its first WH site, symbolising the "never-ending struggle between man and the sea".

LA CORUÑA

This year the Tower of Hercules at the entry of La Coruña's port has been added to the acquis of UNESCO'S World Heritage. It is a high lighthouse, built initially by the Romans.
This makes me remember the first trip I paid with my money: while studying economy at ISCEF, Lisbon, I gave some lessons at the Oficinas de S. José school, were I had earlier been a pupil of the primary classes. I took a self-oriented tour of Galicia, using trains and buses. From Lisbon I had the first night at my grand-parents home, in Aveiro and then proceeded to Pontevedra, with a change of train in Porto; sign of evolution and accrued feelings of peace, no more visas were needed for Spain, like in 1954. Up north I went to Santiago de Compostela with its famous cathedral (later a WH site), the highlight of my week, as you may well guess, but in-between I took a stop in Padrón to visit the house and monument of Rosalía de Castro, a galician writer. La Coruña was the northern most nightstop, which surely included walking till the Tower of Hercules, a vintage point for the town and its bay. Yet, I still moved more to the north, by taking a ferry till El Ferrol, on the opposite side of the complex system of bays in the region. For the return I choose Galicia's interior, with nightstops at Lugo and its roman walls (later another WH site) and Ourense. I took a bus to Puente Barjas, as called at the time, today Ponte Barxas, as Galician language took its rights, and then it was walking for around one kilometer to the border; after the border, more walking to São Gregório, a bus to Melgaço and finnaly the portuguese train. This is how and where I crossed a border on foot for the first time. God permitting, I suppose I still have some more to do.

NEW ORLEANS

Till Hurricane Katrina shockingly struck New Orleans in 2005 I was not aware that most of the city and a vast surrounding area was below river and lake level. The huge Lake Pontchartrain, which acts as a natural reservoir for the complex meandering of the mighty Mississipi river, has got levees to protect the city from flooding, the same happening with a canal linking lake and river. The breaching of the canal levee was the main reason for the disaster.
In November 2008 I went to see and better understand what happened. My refurbished hotel, some six kilometers from downtown and three from the lake, was aside a big abandoned 12-floor office building. Well, I went indeed to feel the atmosphere of the just recleaned famous French Quarter, or Vieux Carré in french, which looks as something unique in the United States, for its really french creolean caracter in terms of architecture, nonchalance and art-de-vivre, particularly at night. In Rue Bourbon you just walk in the street and can perfectly listen (and dance, if in such a mood) the orchestras playing inside the bars and restaurants, as they keep the doors open. You can too have a word from the street with those partying upstairs in the iron balconies.
The old streetcars are the other inevitable icon to mention; there are two lines, the really interesting one running from downtown to St. Charles, an uptrend suburb to the west. It goes all the way through a tree-lined path in a nice avenue, with lots of late 19th century charming mansions.

ABU DHABI'S NEW GRAND MOSQUE

The brand new Grand Mosque, more precisely named Sheikh Zayed Bin Sultan Al Nahyan, is for me the most interesting monument of the Emirate. It is so recent that work on the adjacent areas, gardens, roads and parks, was still going on when I visited it two months ago.
It can be freely visited by non muslin visitors at certain times and it is really worth to do it. My experience tells me how different from one country to another are the visiting policies for non Allah believers, till absolute forbidness in some ones.
Inlaid in marble vegetal decorations abound in the interior, which seems to be unusual for a mosque. A feeling of quietness and absence from day-to-day stress is part of the visitor's magic. As for the pride of this oil-rich Emirate, the mosque boosts three entries into the Guiness Book of records: the largest carpet in the world, the biggest chandelier and the largest dome of its kind.