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Food writer and Modern Spice cookbook author Monica Bhide recently returned from visiting her family in India, and we asked her to share some glimpses of contemporary life she noticed while there. You can read her previous posts here and here.

One of my favorite things to do in India is to visit temples, but as I set out to visit several in New Delhi during my recent trip, I noticed that one major thing had changed. At the entrance of all the temples were metal detectors and police personnel checking each person entering and leaving.

Yes, it is a sign of the times, and not a happy one. After the events of November 2008, when a group of terrorists held the city of Mumbai under siege, security has become a prime concern for all places frequented by locals and tourists alike. There are metal detectors at hotels and malls, monuments and museums. On this particular visit, I went to the ISKCON Hare Krishna temple (pictured, above), one of the most beautiful temples in New Delhi. (It has a loyal following, and the restaurant attached to the temple offers vegetarian food, with some rather contemporary choices on the menu: baked beans, walnut pies and pizza!) While we waited patiently for the security check, what broke my heart was a young man standing in line with his mother behind me. His words to her: "If God needs all this to protect him, how on Earth will he protect me?"

Photos: Monica Bhide

It's been 39 years since the first Earth Day, and National Geographic news has a great slideshow of photographs and stories from it's not-so-humble beginnings. But what's interesting is how the day has changed over time. Elizabeth Kolbert reports in the New Yorker this week that the first Earth Day was a "raucously exuberant affair..."

In New York, Fifth Avenue was closed to traffic. People picnicked on the sidewalk; dead fish were dragged through midtown; and Governor Nelson Rockefeller rode a bicycle across Prospect Park. Students in Richmond, Virginia, handed out bags of dirt (to represent the "good earth"); demonstrators in Washington poured oil onto the sidewalk in front of the Interior Department (to protest recent oil spills); and in Bloomington, Indiana, women dressed as witches threw birth-control pills into the crowd (no one was quite sure why). All told, some twenty million Americans took part..."

Today Earth Day seems a bit tame in comparison. Yes, there are concerts and other events, but in many ways the day seems akin to Arbor Day in our minds - a nice thing to recognize - but unless you're physically planting a tree it's more a manifestation of good feelings than a call to action. And indeed, there are numbers to prove that effect: In a recent Gallup poll asking Americans whether "protection of the environment should be given priority, even at the risk of curbing economic growth," only forty-two percent said yes. And in a poll from the Pew Research Center that  asked Americans about their priorities for Congress and the new president, "dealing with global warming" ranked at the bottom of the list.

So what can you do to raise awareness and share information about protecting our environment? We've got some suggestions here at NG. We're currently running a contest called GreenEffect, which will award $20,000 to the five people or groups whose green ideas will help bring about change. Our Green Guide offers tips for everyday trimming of your consumption and energy use. Our mission is "to inspire people to care about the planet" and we're working every day to achieve that end. So read, donate, or share what we're doing here with others, and you can help make a difference.

Photograph from AP 

Hold on to your hats, IT readers. I may have discovered the most unsustainable travel innovation yet. While browsing the news for our weekly Radar roundup, I came across a story announcing plans by the new Palazzo Versace in Dubai to...wait for it -- air-condition its beach. That's right, air-condition an outdoor beach for those poor (billionaire) souls who have been forced to sunbathe on warm sand all these years (cue collective "awwww").

It's not air-conditioning in the traditional sense: The hotel, slated for completion in 2010, will employ a network of pipes beneath the sand containing a coolant that sucks the heat from the surface. In addition, the hotel's swimming pool will be cooled, and plans are being considered for giant blowers that will "waft a gentle breeze over the beach," the Times Online reports.

Yes, it's true that Dubai has money to burn, as a resort city in one of the world's wealthiest countries, the United Arab Emirates. And until recently, the UAB was holed in a rare bubble that was mostly unaffected by the plummeting global economy. But it also currently holds the record for the largest per capita carbon footprint in the world. Naturally, environmentalists have been horrified by the plan.

On the blog 3QuarksDaily, which always provides delicious food for thought, I came across an essay by Jennifer Cody Epstein, who asks "Has globalization really changed the experience of travel? And is it always and necessarily for the worse?"

She was visiting Barcelona recently for a symposium entitled "Reading to Travel, Traveling to Read," sponsored by the Libraries of Barcelona, and was struck by how familiar the city seemed, with its Circuit City, Starbucks and Chanel, in contrast to her experience in Kyoto some twenty years ago, where she was constantly reminded by everyday experiences how far she was from home:

"From food to fashion to the crisp cadence of the language; to the very posture and pace of the pedestrians, nothing--quite simply, nothing--felt familiar. For the first time in my life I felt fully an outsider, completely other; almost entirely without cultural or linguistic foothold. The simplest tasks--withdrawing money, finding the bathroom; using the bathroom (all those appliances! All those chirping automations!), making a phone call--seemed vast challenges."

But as her week progressed in Barcelona, she wondered if globalization, as much as it is widely condemned, doesn't so much eliminate cultural differences as provide tools to understand, even transcend, those differences. 

It's an interesting question and we wonder, what do you think?  Has globalization helped you transcend cultural differences when you travel?  Or do you crave the shock of the unfamiliar? Or both?

Photo of an apprentice geisha in Kyoto, by Melissa Rose Chasse via Intelligent Travel Flickr pool

As we all prepare for the holiday travel season, few people feel the effects harder than those in long distance relationships. Friend of IT Amy McKeever responds to a recent roundup of articles that question her travel habits.

I swear I'm not a bad person. At least I thought so until my travel habits became entangled with my relationships.

You see, I'm an avid traveler, and all of my immediate family members live far away. But the nail in the karma coffin? I'm in a long-distance relationship.

What all of this means, as Barron YoungSmith pointed out in his recent - and, I hope, satiric - Slate article, is that my carbon emissions are single-handedly choking our planet. YoungSmith postulates that people in long-distance relationships are responsible for millions of metric tons of CO2 each year and, to be good stewards of the environment, we should break up. He buttresses the argument by insisting that dating locally is better for our social lives anyway.

Now, I can easily set aside the insinuation that I'm anti-social. After all, anyone in a LDR can tell you that we get out way more often than most of the couples we know who only hang out with each other. I'm also used to others not getting why I would put up with this kind of relationship. I'll just note, as Salon's Tracy Clark-Flory did in her rebuttal to YoungSmith, that most people don't decide to be in a long-distance relationship because they need the frequent flier miles.

What I worry about more than any of these things is whether my passion for travel has earned me a one-way ticket to Dante's inferno. According to reader comments on Clark-Flory's article, yes. I am a glutton for travel. It's one of the seven deadly sins.

OK, I can cop to that. But can I be redeemed?

World traveler and friend of IT Jeff Greenwald sent us this dispatch from a cybercafe during a recent visit to Nepal. Jeff has written for National Geographic Adventure, and is the executive director of Ethical Traveler, a "global community dedicated to exploring the ambassadorial potential of world travel."

Indra Jatra, celebrated during the month of Aswin, is one of the Kathmandu Valley's most treasured holidays. The ten-day celebration commemorates the capture and ransom of the rowdy god Indra, who was caught stealing a bunch of the Valley's famous jasmine. The trussed-up god agreed, in return for his freedom, to provide the morning mists of late autumn, essential to the cultivation of winter wheat.

On a recent Friday afternoon, the city's Newari population was gathering for the climax of the beloved festival. I parked my rented scooter near the Asan market, strolled past the saffron merchants and copper smiths, and took my place with the celebrants flowing into Basanthapur. The square soon filled up in anticipation of the evening's traditional dances and rituals. Hundreds of women, dressed in brilliant saris, covered the temple steps like spilled confetti. Men milled around three worn wooden chariots, lifting their children for a better view. Soon, the ancient vehicles--festooned with flowers and fitted with thrones for Bhairav, Ganesh, and Kumari, the Living Goddess--would be pulled through the streets. Here, the old Newari spirit of Kathmandu was very alive, though the old palace square is now surrounded by cement high-rises. 

Every year during the climax of Indra Jatra, dozens are water buffalo are sacrificed in a ritual to honor Kumari, the Living Goddess: a pre-pubescent girl who serves as Kathmandu's protector deity. This year, though, the recently elected Maoist leadership decreed--at the height of the ceremony--that this year would be different. The secular government, citing extreme financial pressure, claimed they would not allocate government funds to buy sacrificial animals.

IT friend Roger Hamilton just returned from a trip to North Carolina's Outer Banks, where a battle between birds and beachgoers is brewing...

Driving down Highway 12 on North Carolina’s Outer Banks, I sense that something is wrong. “Save a bird, kill an island,” someone had scrawled across an SUV rear window. “Piping plover tastes like chix,” advertises a restaurant on its menu marquee. 

Pretty strong stuff. Better find out what’s up.

My first stop was the legendary Red Drum Tackle Shop, in the village of Buxton. “They” have closed down miles of beaches to off-road vehicles and everything else, says Bob, the owner. All for the sake of three little birds: the piping plover (pictured, above), the least tern, and the American oystercatcher. “They” are conservation groups, a U.S. district judge, and the National Park Service. The conservationists contend that people and vehicles on the beaches prevent the birds from nesting.   

Many have bemoaned the rise of the so-called staycation—if not in concept, than certainly in lexicon. (Disclaimer: Whether the fledgling economy deletes your vacation or not, I fully support treating your hometown as a destination.) Even so, my eyebrows are sufficiently cocked at what the Wall Street Journal recently proposed as an extreme iteration of the trend, a term I’d like to unofficially coin as the “fake-ation.”

The WSJ reports:

While more hard-pressed Americans are spending their vacation time at home lately, not everyone is happy about it. Barbecues and reruns don't match the thrill of travel. So some are going to great lengths to foster the illusion of a wayfaring vacation. They'll sample foreign tourism, wilderness camping, hotel living, and beach-going without ever leaving their living rooms.

NG Books Editorial Assistant Hunter Braithwaite likes bikes, and tells us a bit about his hopes for the D.C. SmartBike program.

On the first of July, aboard a very crowded Metro, I read this article in the Washington Post’s Express.  Seems that we’re going to have to wait a little longer for the SmartBike program to take off. You know, those cute little (empty) bike racks that are popping up around northwest D.C. I for one am very excited to think that Washington is attempting a bike sharing program, which is healthy, progressive, and sustainable. Who cares if it’s being done in typical D.C. fashion, that is, slowly and illogically? 

IT has done several stories on Paris’s Vélib program, the astonishingly popular initiative set up last summer by the City of Lights. Since then, there have been beaucoup de praise and a few criticisms; namely, that it’s giving access to bikes to people who shouldn’t have access to bikes (tourists, the uncoordinated). And to be fair, this isn’t far from the truth. Paris is a bicycle-friendly city, but it’s still a city. A big one. And most tourists are just that, touring. They don’t have a firm grasp on the nuances of Parisian geography, traffic patterns, or the relentless tide of teenagers on scooters. In short, they’re bad cyclists. But a few broken scraped knees and dented Peugeots shouldn’t be held against them, should it?

But with the three recent deaths of cyclists using the Vélib system since May, some frustrated Parisians are now talking of putting an end to the vélo-fun. Bertrand Delanoë, the city’s mayor, answers with a resounding “Non,” and points out that the accident rate has increased only 7 percent in the city, while the use of bikes has jumped up 24 percent. The city has had over 27 million rentals on the Velib system so far and the program continues growing with every passing week. The city started out with more than 10,000 bikes, and that number has doubled in the past year. And this isn’t just a Paris thing—other cities have their own versions: Barcelona, Lyon, Seville, Helsinki, Copenhagen, Munich.

Freelance writer Laura Powell recently traveled to Albania and couldn't help noticing the amount of litter that lined the roadways. Upon further investigation, she found that the trash was indicative of a troubled history and of a challenging future facing the nation.

One thing that strikes you as you drive through the Albanian countryside (other than the horrendous state of the roads) is the litter that dots the landscape. Piles of trash highlighted by blue plastic bags show up everywhere. Ask foreign aid workers why this is so, and they might tell you it's a combination of a lack of waste management facilities and a lack of education regarding recycling. But ask Albanians and they will tell you they are plenty educated when it comes to recycling. In fact, they were forced to recycle well before the practice was in vogue. According to Auron Tare, head of the Albanian National Trust and a noted historian, during the Enver Hoxha dictatorship (1940s-1985), people were required to turn in glass bottles and paper, and there were school programs designed to teach children about the importance of recycling. Furthermore, given the dearth of consumer goods during Hoxha's reign, there wasn't all that much in the way of nonrecyclables to throw out. As a result, there was little need for landfills and other waste management facilities.

After speaking with many Albanians, my assessment is that the current trend of tossing trash without regard to recycling is not merely careless disregard for the environment. For these people, who had to endure forced recycling during the Communist era, the import of plastics and other disposable consumer goods represented both freedom and wealth. The idea of being forced to recycle and reuse, must seem somewhat anathema to these newfound ideals. Additionally, the rapid growth in the 1990s of consumer goods, and thus waste, caught the country off-guard. 

So did the boom in development. During the Hoxha years, no one was allowed to own property. Additionally, according to Tare, "Because of military reasons, many areas in Albania were heavily protected. For example, there was a major tree planting program by the Communist government along the beaches. This was done with the purpose of stopping sea landings by foreign enemies."  As a result, for many years, Albania's coastlines shared unspoiled space with forest land.

There have been more rumblings in the aviation world lately about having airlines account for their carbon emissions. Last week, the EU announced their plans to begin instituting a carbon trading program for all flights coming into and out of EU airspace. If the plan is approved, Grist reports, "airlines will have to cut emissions 3 percent in 2012 and 5 percent per year from 2013 on."

Meanwhile Sir Richard Branson of Virgin Group put forth an interesting idea at the Global Humanitarian Forum last week: Make dirty businesses pay a carbon-emissions tax on their pollution. The AP has the details...

"If you run a dirty business — an airline business, a shipping business, ... coal business, you should pay for the privilege because you are doing damage," Branson said.

Former UN Secretary Kofi Annan concurred, seeking "climate justice" for the poor, who often bear the brunt of the ecological damage (see: the rice crisis facing many impoverished nations).

I think these are smart ideas. With all the confusion about carbon emissions and the best way to offset them, it stands to reason that the onus of paying for them should not lie only on the traveler (in the form of higher ticket prices, and extra fees). If the airlines were taxed and regulated based on their carbon output, there would be a lot more incentives for them to find cleaner ways to fly. That, and the carbon offsets would apply to all passengers, versus the two, or ten, or twenty who choose to voluntarily offset using a calculator of some kind.

But that's my opinion, I'd be interested to hear what you think. Let us know in the comments below.

Photo: Virgin America

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The Washington Post has been running a series of interesting articles about the deterioration of "America's front yard," Washington D.C.'s National Mall. The grounds surrounding the monuments and tidal basin are National Park Service property, and the service says they're owed more than $350 million in maintenance fees. Which means that if you wander the Mall you'll find rusty toilet fixtures, cracked pavement, dusty lawns, algae-filled reflecting pools, and a host of other signs of wear and tear. (I know, I've seen most of these things myself.) More than 25 million visitors come to the Mall each year–that's more than the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and Yosemite parks combined–but there are only 100 toilets, 54 rangers, and three places to buy water. Though the monuments still inspire, their surrounding environs are less than impressive.

A few groups have sprung up to help address these concerns. The Trust for the National Mall is working to raise funds and refurbish the space, using a model similar to that of the Central Park Conservancy, which revitalized New York City's grand backyard after years of disuse. They launched last month and are working to raise over $500 million in donations (right now there's a volunteer section on the Trust's website, but no information on how to donate your time quite yet). And the Mall Conservancy is seeking to expand the boundaries of the Mall for future exhibitions and museums, and help in the long-term planning efforts to revitalize the space. A bunch of task forces have been formed to create a National Mall Day, improve the quality of visitor and welcome centers, and promote performance and art activities. Their site has a great section about the Mall's history, and a variety of proposals for taking Pierre L'Enfant's plan into it's third century.

All I can say is: Amen. I got to enjoy the efforts of the Central Park Conservancy during my time in New York, but it will be a long time before I pack a blanket and head down to the Mall. Besides being overrun with people, there are too few amenities to make it an enjoyable excursion. You go there with a mission in mind: See the cherry blossoms, visit the Smithsonian, or if you're one of the many D.C. leagues, to play in a softball game. But hopefully with these efforts, I can start feeling like it's my own little front yard.

What are your impressions of the National Mall? What do you think can be done to make it better?

Photo: courtesy of the National Coalition to Save our Mall

Last week, I attended a conference focusing on "Sustainability in the Hospitality Industry" and was impressed with the panelists assembled for the discussion. They ranged from the VPs of sustainability for major international hotel chains to the co-founder of the Lapa Rios Ecolodge, a 16-bungalow property that uses the methane created by pig waste to power their kitchen stoves. So it was obvious that they were going to have a variety of opinions on how best to direct the industry as it goes green. And while many of the hotels talked up their green initiatives, (from creating online models of "innovation hotels," to removing table linens from function rooms and measuring and cutting back their energy and water use) they admitted that these efforts were the "low-hanging fruit" for the industry and that much wider changes need to be made in order to really make a difference. (To that point: One panelist noted that there are more than 4.7 million hotel rooms in the country, and each of those rooms has its rugs torn up and replaced every seven years or so. That's a lot of landfills covered in carpet.)

But where they diverged was on how best to do it. The idea of creating federally regulated hotel sustainability certifications, or standards, was dismissed by some panelists as "regressing everyone to the mean." How can you have competitive distinction, they wondered, if you even the playing field and make everyone adopt the same sustainable practices? And more importantly to their bottom lines, why should they do it if it's not always what the customer wants? One panelist noted that while Whole Foods has a reputation as a sustainable company, very few people know (or care) whether their supermarket buildings are LEED certified (most aren't). And except for some rare examples, most hotel chains use their marketing budgets to highlight the comfort, amenities, and convenience of their properties, not whether they're overtly "green."  Ultimately, they said, the customer is concerned with whether the reservation is late or the room is dirty and until we customers actively seek out sustainable standards, the costs and benefits don't add up.

I was a bit miffed by overtly corporate subtext to the sustainable conversation (mind you, not all of the panelists held this perspective, and several were quick to respond in support of certifications and standards) but the idea I left with was, well, do people really want their hotels to be green? If you knew that a certification existed, would you seek out hotel chains that adopted earth-friendly practices? I'm interested in hearing your opinions, please share them in the comments below.

Image: The Innovation Hotel website from the InterContinental Hotels Group.

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Memorial Day weekend has come and passed—ushering in the ritual advent of white pants, swimsuit angst, and, more exciting for all involved, the summer vacation season. (Excuse our brief pause to cue a collective “yippee!”) Exhilarating for those with upcoming adventures to anticipate; utterly depressing for the rest of us. And second worse to not having travel plans? The inevitable return to the daily grind after vacation.

Not that I'm asking for pity: I’m still reveling in my sun-kissed glow from a six-day jaunt to the Mexican Riviera, and scarcely expect sympathy for my current inability to face reality. (But come on, it’s hard to maintain a tan under the emphatically less pleasing glow of our office’s fluorescent lights. And where’s my afternoon cerveza and nap? …you get the idea.)

Lucky for me, I work at a travel magazine and am allowed to entertain these notions, all in the name of “work.” My mind wanders to the beach mid-morning, so I pen a blog entry about the Mexican bungalow where I relaxed last week. My stomach pangs for a tasty sope (a bean-and-crudités-topped puffy tortilla), my new favorite Mexican antojito, rather than the humdrum salad I mechanically packed for lunch this morning. So I Google "traditional Mexican recipes," telling myself I’m doing invaluable research for IT readers.

Earlier this month, Paris’ beloved leftist mayor Bertrand Delanoë announced plans to begin a city-wide car-share program, which will be modeled after Paris’ current (and wholly successful) bike-share program, Vélib. All I can say is, “yikes.”

I just returned from a month–long séjour in France, and tested out a similar version of the Paris pedaling program in Lyon, which is actually where the idea of a cheap, advertising-subsidized plan was created. The concept, in my opinion, is pure genius. The program clears up traffic congestion, reduces carbon emissions, and allows tourists to get a more authentic look into the city’s culture. It’s amazing how much more of the city you can see when traveling above ground. Plus, I managed to avoid paying anything by returning my bike every 30 minutes and exchanging it for another one. (The first 30 minutes are free.) That, my friends, is also pure genius.

That said, the idea of using the same system with cars is daft. It turns a smart, eco-friendly idea into a messy, untested nightmare. Monsieur Delanoë should let this concept sink shamefully back to the drawing board.

Would you travel with Disney? More and more people are doing just that. Disney's tour-outfitter arm, Adventures by Disney, which began a mere three years ago with six tours, focused mostly in the American West, has expanded to 17 separate itineraries, including China and Australia. Senior editor Norie Quintos, the magazine's resident tour expert, recently returned from an Adventures by Disney trip to Italy with these thoughts.

"Authentic, immersive, and experiential," are how Ed Baklor, senior vice president of the Burbank-based company, describes the trips. These are all buzzwords I (and our magazine) love. And in truth, everyone on my tour—young and old—enjoyed themselves (including me and my kids, by the way). But it did get me thinking, can a Disney trip truly be authentic? And what is authenticity anyway?

Is it hitting the expected high spots (Colosseum, Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo's David, and a gondola ride) with minimum waits in line because Disney had pre-booked admission? Is it the appearance of no, not Mickey, but another costumed character playing Venetian Marco Polo edu-taining the kids with tales of his voyages? Is it the hands-on pasta making lesson at a Renaissance castle in Tuscany? Or the appointment to create your own Carnevale mask in Venice? What about the opportunities to stop and shop at The Disney Stores in Florence, Rome, and Venice? Or the liberal gifting of Disney-logo pins and baseball caps and canvas tote bags to the guests?

Now, we may not have had as many issues with the New York Times travel section's list of 53 Places to Go in 2008 as some of our peers, but the article that accompanied the piece,  which discussed trips for tourists "who want to see the effects of climate change for themselves" did seem to be a bit off. We at IT have had a lot of conversations about the paradox that exists when attempting to visit endangered places (as exemplified in the sinking of the Explorer last month), but something about this piece seemed less about experiencing a place and much more...voyeuristic. Check out this excerpt about trips to Greenland:

The most popular destination for Americans is the Ilulissat ice fjord, a 45-minute flight from Kangerlussuaq and the site of the fastest retreating glacier in the Northern Hemisphere. A few years ago, the fjord was 25 miles long, but the melting of the glacier has lengthened the fjord to 31 miles, a change that has made it one of Greenland’s most visible examples of climate change.

The fjord is full of icebergs, calving from the bordering mountains of ice, and cruises to see the ice crack and fall are popular.

Now, we try not to frame everything in the context of carbon offsets, and certainly don't promote reining in your travel to avoid contributing to global warming, but the piece does little to acknowledge the ways this newfound tourism is impacting the area – and helping to further the climate change along.  In fact, it goes on to quote Dennis Schmitt, an American explorer who discovered Greenland's Warming Island, and whose view on the subject is slightly depressing.

“People sense the Arctic is going to change,” he said. “There is something in human nature that likes to watch things die, a morbid curiosity of human beings."

IT was just sent a link to FreeRice, a site sponsored by Poverty.com that's working to make us smarter and help end hunger at the same time. We think that's pretty brilliant, so we felt compelled to pass it along.

It's a simple vocabulary quiz, but when you answer a question correctly, ten grains of rice are donated to the United Nations World Food Program. In the month since the site's been up, 931,645,600 grains have been donated. We wish this had been around when we were studying for the SAT's.

Go, get smart and help feed the hungry. 

Photo: Marc Paterson

Chris McCandless, the 24-year-old vagabond who hiked into the Alaskan wilderness alone with a ten-pound bag of rice in 1992, never made it out of the wild, but the abandoned bus where he died of starvation just might—that is, if some Alaskans have their way.

The Toronto Star has the scoop: Alaskans are now bracing themselves for an influx of “McCandless pilgrims" (such as Marc Paterson, pictured) inspired by the release of the Sean Penn-directed film, Into the Wild, to trek the Stampede Trail, seeking out the infamous city bus where McCandless perished. Local residents in Healy, Alaska, are brainstorming ways to deal with the “unwanted tourist attraction.”

Among the suggestions is airlifting the bus from its site, either to the start of the trail where it would be more accessible or nearby to a park in Fairbanks. The Star explains:

About 100 visitors, mostly young men, make the trip to Healy (population 1,000) each year. Many making it into the bus shoot videos for posting on YouTube and snap photos for Facebook, often imitating the iconic pose of the skeleton-like McCandless in Krakauer's book, which showed the young man grinning as he leaned against the bus, days before his death.

The McCandless pilgrims carve their names into the rusted sides of the bus. Paterson signed his just beside the door. And they leave messages in aged notebooks; [Jon] Krakauer, McCandless' mother and Penn have all left notes.

The Costco theory of tourism—Bigger is Better!—often flies in the face of sustainable travel. And unfortunately, it's a trend that's becoming almost as prodigious as the projects it promotes.

In a recent article in The Guardian, Leo Hickman reports on growing evidence supporting the bigger-faster-better model of tourism (see: Las Vegas, Cancun, Benidorm):

"Not since the 1970s have we seen such epic tourism projects. The spark for much of this about-turn is the success of Dubai, the holiday jewel of the Middle East, that has risen rapidly out of the deserts of the eastern Arabian peninsula and, in just over a decade, become one of the world's highest-profile tourist destinations, luring six million visitors a year."

Dubai certainly epitomizes the trend: with its intention to build the latest version of the world’s tallest building, its indoor ski runs, and its plan to build a theme park twice the size of Disneyworld. But it isn’t the only place looking to cash in on this new rash of unnatural, gargantuan tourism projects—there are plans in the works for a monstrous steel and glass pyramid on top of the Alps’ Klein Matterhorn and an artificial sandy beach in Andermatt, Switzerland. Even Iran is stepping up to the plate with its $2.4 billion “Flower of the East” development, set to open on Kish in 2010 with a “seven-star” hotel.