A skirl of bagpipes kicks off a torch light parade up Buchanan Street in Glasgow city center. The torch bearers are headed to the Royal Glasgow Concert Hall, where the first concert of the first night of the Celtic Connections Festival will take place. This year, Pulse of the World is the theme, with tabla master Zakir Hussain collaborating with musicians from Scotland, Ireland, and India to create a signature opening for one of Europe’s — and the world’s — premier winter festivals.

The festival runs for eighteen days from mid to late January, with more than three hundred musicians taking part in concerts, talks, workshops, late night sessions, and concerts for school children. Though it is a large, well attended festival — and a major contributor to the economy of Glasgow – Celtic Connections has a relaxed, almost family feeling among the artists on stage and the audiences who come to share in their music.

This year, those artists will include Nova Scotia based singer Old Man Luedecke, folk big band The Unusual Suspects, American fiddle player Bonnie Rideout, Irish traditional band Teada, Scottish Gaelic singer Julie Fowlis (who just won album of the year at the Scots Trad Music Awards), American banjo player and composer Alison Brown, and innovative fiddle and cello duo Alasdair Fraser and Natalie Haas. There will also be collaborations of all sorts, including guitarist John Doyle with a selection of scheduled and as yet unscheduled musical friends, a tribute to Bob Dylan and one to Sir Walter Scott, and as is a festival tradition, Transatlantic Sessions, which will see musicians from both sides of the Atlantic swapping songs and tunes in a setting which may be a concert hall but quickly starts feeling like a back porch.

For intrepid learners, both beginners and more advanced, there will be weekend workshops in fiddle, mandolin, harmony singing, and other subjects, and well as talks and radio interviews with festival musicians and organizers. Presenters from other festivals across the world come in for a weekend to check out acts they might want to book for their events, which always creates additional buzz and excitement. There are open stage competitions for up and coming acts, and late night sessions for both singers and players, as well as a lot of after hours craic and informal music.

In the midst of all this, and because of all of it, the festival maintains a welcoming feeling, as musicians and listeners alike gather to play, listen, talk about, and enjoy music from all corners of the Celtic world, in one the world’s great music cities.

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Was it possible that the shopkeeper had just complimented me on my nice eyes? Or – and this seemed more likely – had he really just complimented my ass?

This moment of confusion, which occurred in the Marrakech souk this past summer, was the seed of an essay on street harassment that published this past weekend in The Washington Post.  I think the incident stayed with me because I’ve reacted much differently — and more decisively — to similar incidents when they’ve happened to me at home. One that stands out in particular happened many years ago, when  I was standing on a corner near my apartment, chatting with a friend. A man walking past us reached over and squeezed my behind. I was stunned for about a half second — and then I lost it. I ran after him in a purple-faced, cursing, apopleptic rage. I almost hit him.

But in Marrakech, I did not fly into action, I wondered what had happened: had I’d actually heard “ass” which would warrant a harsher response than the more polite discouragement I’d communicate if he’d said “eyes”?

And even if this man had enunciated his words crisply, I’d still be fuzzy on what had happened and what to do about it. After all, in my travels, I’ve witnessed behaviors and customs that are certainly outside my own sense of comfort, propriety and how things ought to be done – from horking and spitting on the street, to snacking on bugs.   I’m aware that cultural differences do extend to “haptics”, or touch –  international etiquette books are packed with information on simple gestures that have complicated meanings: Don’t pat a child on the head in Indonesia, the head is thought to be spiritual. Don’t pat your stomach in Italy, it means you dislike someone. Don’t point with an index finger in Malaysia, it’s bad luck.

And yes, there are body parts that seem to be universally off-limits for touching by strangers without permission –  a woman’s breasts, anyone’s genitals – but the backside is not always in that category, not around the world, and not here in the United States. Children are spanked on their bottoms, athletes are televised patting each other’s butts in congratulations for a good play, and none of this constitutes fondling. Context is everything with the derriere

In fact, in the workplace, context is dwelled on extensively during a sexual harassment investigation.  A key question is whether the the conduct was unwelcome. Compliments, flirting, innuendo, suggestive lip smacking – it may be harassment, it may not, it depends. But there’s a whole corporate and legal factfinding apparatus that grinds into gear after an accusation is made.

When I’m traveling on a foreign street,  it’s just me and my American point of view.

Can a travel book read like a blog, look like a coffee table book, and offer interactive maps and video clips?

I’d have said no but that was before I spent the weekend reading  Around the World in 18 Days by graphic designer and photographer Andy Davies.

Designed specifically for the iPad, this interactive travel book provides a fresh look at some of the world’s most exotic and interesting locations – Hong Kong, Singapore, Cairo, Istanbul, Venice, Zurich, Bruges, London and Paris.

By combining an energetic and lively writing style with amazing photographs, Davies manages to draw the reader into each city’s labyrinth to such a degree that you literally feel that you are there.  With the tap of the finger, you move from city to city, image to image, and with the inline video clips from the sounds of fish markets to prayer calls to the bells of Big Ben.

The  experience is further enhanced with  full screen HDR image galleries featuring key images optimized for viewing both horizontally and vertically.  (sample slideshow here).

But that’s not all.

Davies has added in maps, travel tips, and an comprehensive guide to taking better travel photographs, making this 100 page interactive travel book a must read for all dedicated armchair travelers.

Download your copy of Around the World in 18 Days today for $2.99.

(Disclaimer:  The author provided a complimentary copy of Around the World in 18 Days for review)

In winter, the Great Smoky Mountains take on a quiet beauty that differs from the exuberant flowering of summer and the brilliant foliage of autumn. More reserved, you might say, but no less beautiful.

One way that’s celebrated is Wilderness Wildlife Week, which this year runs from January 8th through the 15th. Getting outside is, as you might expect, a big thing during the week. There are at least half a dozen guided hikes to choose from each day, ranging from all day explorations to short one milers. There’s a photography contest to enter, as well, and the chance to hear a bit of mountain music from local players. There are talks from wildlife experts and nature photographers, and plenty of chances to meet up with other wilderness enthusiasts, and to explore the park and the nearby area on your own.

All this is headquartered in Pigeon Forge, whose slightly gaudy tourist enticing atmosphere of spring and summer days takes on a bit quieter air of down home welcome during winter months, too.

The thunderstorm that just rolled through was one of the most violent we’ve seen, and in Bangkok, that’s saying a lot. Rain poured down in sheets so thick we could barely see the Baiyoke Tower from our apartment on the 18th floor, on the other side of Petchaburi Road.

The wind, like Homer Simpson and an unwatched pie on a window sill, swept my swimsuit off the drying rack and pulled it into the air in front of the balcony, holding it still just long enough for me to scream an internal “Noooooo!” before sweeping it off into the great unknown. I can’t help but think of it landing square on someone’s face, like a tired gag in a tired American comedy.

As usual this time of the year, the storm dissipated as quickly as it began; weather has no memory here. The sun is shining bright, and the scorching midday heat is helping smog up the city again. Dear old Bangkok could probably benefit from another bath later today, actually.

Last night we met our friends Joy and Trevor at Sawaree Terrace. As soon as we arrived Joy promptly ordered a tower of Heineken beer for the table, as well as a few bottles of Chang just to, you know, make sure we had enough. We were soon joined by a friend of Trevor’s, Yorg, along with his Thai girlfriend. Standing about 6-6 and thin as a beanpole–he reminded me of Stephen Merchant–Yorg arrived in a flurry of exaggerated hand gestures and a long list of grievances, a list which only grew as he realized he had our undivided, bemused attention.

Yorg’s day in Bangkok began with a trip to Bumrangrad Hospital to have a worsening case of itchy scalp looked at. (I’ve been there a number of times myself; it’s rather pleasant if you ask me, at least as far as hospitals go. I can only imagine how many nasty sexpats with nasty health problems those poor doctors and nurses must see every day, which isn’t to say Yorg is a sexpat; he definitely isn’t.)

Yorg didn’t understand why he had to surrender so much of his “personal data” just to see a doctor, but relented after a short argument with the staff… a staff which was surely horrified at his public display of semi-aggression. Unfortunately, after all that consternation, he decided the long wait wasn’t worth it and left; his scalp would have to go on itching, and his personal data would have to languish unscrutinized.

Afterwards, his ongoing search for a tailor specializing in shirts for 6-6 German beanpoles ended emptyhanded once again. He went home to find his girlfriend still feeling sour: she had been “grumpy for maybe 2 or 3 days” since he had lamented about how slow and directionless she walked on the sidewalks; clearly, he wasn’t yet aware this practice was not unique to her. All Thais are slow and directionless on sidewalks. The bellyaching was all in good fun: Yorg clearly loves living here.

Life is Sweet

After drinks at Sawasdee we walked with him and his girlfriend down a nearby soi, us bound for a local bar he’d recommended, them to a small market to fetch fruit for their muesli in the morning, then to the only 7-11 in the area he claimed had the exact size milk carton he needed. Yorg is truly a nut, but the endearing kind of nut.

We grabbed the one outdoor table in front of the bar, Sweety’s, and settled in for cocktails: my girlfriend a pina colada (which she swears was the best one she’s ever had in Thailand), me a whiskey sour. The soi was pleasantly empty. There was little more sound than the faint voices of Thais belting out karaoke from a small bar across the street, and the far-off crank of motorbikes on Phaya Thai. It was as close to dead quiet as it can usually get in Bangkok.

Intoxicated by the moment (and, okay, the drinks too), we ordered a jug of “Blue Hawaiian Beach”, which was served with a small ladle and two shot glasses and had the consistency of a watery slurpee. It was available in the following strengths of liquor: light, medium, hardcore, hardcore plus, or hardcore + shot. Take the guesswork out of how strong your mixed drink will be and simply pay for how drunk you want to get–brilliant! We’ll be back.

On the way home, half past midnight, I bought a som tam and bag of vermicelli from one of the late-night food vendors on Petchaburi. It’s going to rain again later. Tomorrow too. Fortunately, tropical storms here make for great theater. After nearly 8 months, my flight back “home” to New York the first week of July looms ever larger. It’s June 2; I’m not ready. Not ready at all.