“Suffrage! Right to hold office! Show us first the woman who has independence and sense and taste enough to dress attractively…in shoes that do not destroy both her comfort and her gait.”

So wrote the New York Times in 1871, on the topic of women’s suffrage.  I had not realized that a woman’s wardrobe choices, including a fondness for high heels, had been at issue during the long fight for the right to vote in the United States. But shoes have been quite political over the course of human history. The quote above was on the wall in a special exhibit about shoes in the 1920s — the last stop on my tour of the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto.

This was not the first time that politics had come up at the museum, nor was it the first time that Elizabeth Semmelhack, the museum curator, and I discussed the total impracticality of high heels. (For the record, we were both wearing flats.) “High heels are entirely irrational footwear,” she said. “The higher a heel becomes,  the less it conforms with mobility.” On the other hand (other foot?), high heels and a woman’s sexuality have been intimately intertwined for centuries — they are routinely described, for instance, as “hot”.

So a conundrum for a woman in the late 19th century: should she sacrifice an important signifier of her one reliable source of power over men, that of sexual attraction, in favor of sensible shoes? Or should she keep her heels, retain that power, and provide evidence of  a “woman’s foolishness”?

Telling are the two stereotypes that women were sorted into, on the basis of the height of their heels, writes Semmelhack in Heights of Fashion, in her fascinating history of the elevated shoe: “The humourless, low-heeled frump and the empty headed, high-heeled flirt.”

My private tour with curator Elizabeth Semmelhack was another stop on my Toronto itinerary, and therefore part of the all-expenses paid trip which you can enter to win. See previous stories on this trip, including this one on a frequently overlooked museum in Toronto, and this one on my a romance with a hat. More details here.

Looking for a Christmas gift for the traveler in your life?

Want a practical gift that’s small enough to fit in a backpack or suitcase?

But also a fun gift that will have them smiling all the way to the airport?

Here’s 6 Christmas stocking stuffers might just do the trick.

Designer Duct Tape

Smart travelers know that a roll of a duct tape is worth its weight in gold, capable of fixing and personalizing luggage, plugging up a sink, repairing books and hemlines, and even baby proofing a room.

Crumbled Maps

Crumbled maps can be folded or simply screwed up and stuffed into a pocket, backpack or carryon without damage. Guaranteed wrinkle resistant and waterproof, the crumpled map is the perfect companion who still prefers a real map to an App.

WiFi on a keychain

This little gadget is designed to make finding a WiFi hotspot a breeze.  Instead of wandering around, laptop at the ready, all you have to do is pull out the keychain and click the button to turn on the mobile signal locator.

A Gorillapod

Flexible and light, these mini tripods are perfect for both amateur and professional photographers. Able to be wrapped around any surface – fences, tree branches, wine bottles, and even arms – these rugged and highly flexible tripod making taking photos easy. And there’s even a ‘gorillamobile’ for iPhones.

Whimsical luggage tag

Add a little humor to your luggage with a whimsical luggage tag from Anne Taintor (left)  or Pamela Barsky (right) that might just entertain everyone from the luggage handler to your fellow travelers.

A gift of giving

Of course, some travelers may have already packed their bags and don’t want anything new. For them, the perfect gift might just be the gift of gift of giving through the Passports With Purpose.

By Shelley Seale

Visiting the driest place on Earth, a writer is captivated by the alien landscape but longs to look deeper into the lives and traditions of the hardy people who inhabit it.

It is still dark when the Colque family makes its way up the volcano, climbing steadily in the early morning hours. The air is cool and arid here in the Atacama, the world’s highest and driest desert in the far northern reaches of Chile, along the Andes mountain range at the borders of Bolivia and Argentina.

The small group of indigenous Atacameños reaches the peak just before sunrise on this winter solstice, June 21—the New Year for the Atacameño people. The eldest male, the grandfather, leads the animal they have brought along to the edge of the volcanic crest. Perhaps it is a llama, perhaps a sheep or a goat. All have been used in previous years.

As the sun begins its climb over the horizon the elder pulls out a knife and, with great respect and reverence, cuts open the animal’s chest. He reaches inside and pulls out the still-beating heart.

He holds the heart up toward the rising sun, an offering to the gods and to the power of nature in this harsh, forbidding land where very little grows and some places have never seen a drop of rain in recorded history. The entire family watches intently, in silence, for however many times the heart continues to beat will reveal how much prosperity and good fortune the family will have in the coming year.

After the ceremony, which has been a part of many Atacameño for thousands of years, the Colque family returns to the valley and goes to church—a Spanish Catholic church in the village of Machuca, where they live.

“It is very, very important to do this,” says Joel Colque, one of the younger adult members of the family at 24 years old. “With it we receive blessings, and a good year.”

This blending of cultures and beliefs may seem incongruous, until you realize that in this desert region at the northern tip of Chile is home to an incredibly hardy people with a long lineage in human history. Some mummified remains in Father Le Paige’s Museum at San Pedro de Atacama are the oldest in the world, pre-dating Egyptian relics by thousands of years.

The Atacameño people were invaded by the Inca, colonized and relentlessly persecuted by the Spanish, and at times under the control of Bolivia and Peru. Their religion, culture and language have been under attack for centuries, yet somehow they have preserved a way of life that is little changed, and very welcoming to visitors.

“My people have made rituals at the top of volcanoes for 600 years before the Spanish,” Joel tells me. “We make animal sacrifices, though when the Incas came to this area they were known to make human sacrifices. Many of their constructions are still up there, in the Andes.”

The Atacama Desert presents a geography that is almost like another planet. Its otherworldly appearance and terrain have been likened to Mars; so much so that it has been the location for many movies filming Mars scenes, and NASA tests instruments for future Mars missions here. The lack of rain — an average of only .04 inches per year in the entire region—has created riverbeds that scientists believe have been dry for 120,000 years.

The immensity of the landscape is breathtaking, as you pass copper and lithium mines made famous by Che Guevara and the 2010 incident that trapped 33 miners for two months, with smoking 35 million-year-old Andes volcanoes of up to 22,000 feet looming over it all. And at six to nine thousand feet of elevation, altitude sickness is common; visitors are cautioned for the possibility of some initial lethargy, headaches or insomnia.

Into the Salt Flats

For a real look at the history of the Atacameño people, hike up the Pukara de Quitor, a fort just outside San Pedro de Atacama that was built around 900 B.C., until the Spanish overtook it centuries later. As I approach the entrance I hear guitar music; the ticket seller is sitting languidly in the corner playing music. As I pay my $2 entry fee, I attempt a conversation in very broken Spanish.

The man’s name is Luis Salva, I learn; he has worked at Pukara de Quitor for two years. He plays five instruments, and performs another song before I start my climb into the fort. “Atacama es muy bonita,” Luis says.

I must agree. The fort is dotted with signs explaining its history of invasion upon the peaceful people, in both English and Spanish, and my arrival at the top yields a magnificent view of the desert gorge below. After my exploration, I hop on a loaner bike from the Alto Atacama Desert Lodge to explore the surrounding valleys and villages.

After a traditional asado (barbeque) lunch, Joel Colque arrives to take me to the Salar de Atacama, the largest salt flat in Chile and third-largest in the world. Joel is a guide working for Alto Atacama, and he represents the straddling of two worlds that many of the region’s younger generation undertake. Until you hear the story of his family’s annual animal sacrifice, you would think he was any adrenaline-junkie adventurer in his twenties. He’s big into sandboarding, but also attempts to ride his board down the snowcapped volcanoes. Joel guides not only for the hotel but also his aunt’s adventure tour company. He’s young, cocky and brash; if he threw in a few “dudes,” he could be a California surfer.

Continue to Page 2 of Atacama Chile story

Klezmer is a traveling music, an intricate weaving of dance rhythm and lament, a sharing of joy and sorrow through voice, violin, clarinet, cimbalom, keyboard, horns, and percussion that has moved through medieval times in the Jewish communities of Eastern Europe to travel the world and, on the shores of America, meet up and be in conversation with jazz, bluegrass, and the blues. As the beginning of Chanukah, the festival of lights, approaches on 20 December, it’s a good time to take a listen to the work of musicians who are carrying forward this lively and living tradition.

Twenty five years ago, a mixed bag of artists responded to an advertisement in a New York paper seeking people who’d be interested in forming a klezmer band. Through twenty five years, The Klezmatics have done just that, holding on to tradition by extending it, creating a sound that carries the eastern European sounds of the music into deep connection with other ideas while staying true to source and sound.

To celebrate the band’s twenty fifth anniversary, The Klezmatics have released a two disc set of a concert they gave at Carnegie Hall in New York City. Two of the bands’ founding members are still in the group, Lorin Sklamberg on lead vocal, accordion, guitar, and piano, and Frank London, who plays trumpet, horns, percussion, keyboard, and also sings. Long time band members Lisa Gutkin on violin, Paul Morrissett on bass and tsimbl, and Mark Darriau on clarinets, saxophones, and kaval add their voices and their instruments to the concerts, as do a roster of nearly two dozen guests including former band members and friends who have worked in projects with the band. The repertoire shows the range of Klezmatics’ skills and interests, and the energy from their connection with the audience on the the night is present, too. The first disc of Live at Town Hall, with a mix of music from tradition and recent day, features the rhythms of the music, while the second disc leans toward vocal music and collaborations the band has made with other artists, including songs by Woody Guthrie that he left unfinished and band members were invited by the Guthrie family to complete,. There is original music composed by members of the band as well. If you choose to listen to only one album of klezmer music this season, Live at Town Hall should be that album.

There is a lot more to explore, though. That is what pianist and composer Roger Davidson found. Though he has worked in western classical forms, as well as in jazz, tango, and Brazilian music, he decided to go deeper into klezmer music for his album On the Road of Life.. “The spirit of this music has been with me all my life,” Davidson says. “I only recently started to write music for small klezmer ensemble and it was a very natural way to express myself.” The twelve original pieces on the album, with titles such as Freedom. Dance, Equal in the Eyes of God, and Dance of Hope, offer melodic and refreshing explorations of the dance music roots of klezmer as done by a small group. To bring his vision for this music to recording, Davidson turned to Frank London of the Klezmatics to produce and arrange the material, and to play trumpet. Joshua Horowitz plays cimbalom and accordion, Pablo Aslan handles the bass, and Richie Barshay plays drums, while Andy Statman plays clarinet and mandolin. The work of this small ensemble, led by Davidson;s piano, makes a nice compliment to the larger group sound of the Klezmatics’ album.

Andy Statman was one of those active in the revival of klezmer music in the 1970s, but his interest in American roots music has always been wide ranging. As a teenager he got into playing jazz, and learned everything he could about bluegrass, as well. His versatility of interest and instrument has taken his career through many musical roads, a path he joyfully explores with music, much of it original, on Old Brooklyn. It’s not klezmer, but if the music described above interests you, you’ll want to follow Statman on this exploration too. The ideas of evoking city energy with bluegrass and the history of the melting pot that is Brooklyn with jazz just give a hint of the flavors and stories Statman brings to life on the two disc set. Bluegrass, jazz, old time, and yes, a hint of klezmer now and again fit naturally together across twenty five tunes which range from Shabbos Nigun to 21st Century Chicken Shack Blues to Long Journey Home. It’s a journey worth the taking.

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I’ve had LL Cool J’s “Going Back to Cali” stuck in my head all morning, but with “Bangkok” substituted for “Cali”. Yes, though I’ve only been away from dear old Bangkok for about four months, as I mentioned last week I’m flying out tomorrow for a little 10-day jaunt around the city that’ll essentially amount to a tour of my version of Bangkok’s greatest hits. Early-evening walks through Lumpini Park, a late night at Tawandang German Brewery, outdoor restaurant feasts with friends, as much snacking as I can stomach–it’ll be difficult fitting everything into 10 days. We’re even staying in the condo we lived in for 8 months in 2008-09, which I’m sure will be equal parts surreal and comforting.

I’ve written about the city a number of times in this space, so while I’m sure you’ve all religiously kept up with those posts and reread them at least five times, now seems like a good time to round up some of my Bangkok pieces from this year in the off chance you missed ‘em the first time around.

BKK Must Eats Series: The modest goal of this ongoing series is simply to spotlight, somewhat randomly, damned delicious dishes in Bangkok that I’ve indulged on many occasions, and that I recommend you indulge too. Given that eating as much as my stomach can handle is my top priority these next 10 days, I’ll certainly be adding new entries in the coming weeks assuming, that is, I don’t fill up on everything already covered below first.

+ Early Evening Pad Thai on Soi Chidlom
+ Salmon Agemusubui at Sukishi
+ Spicy Tuna Roll at Yaki Ten
+ Grilled Squid at Pantip Plaza
+ Pumpkin Hummus at May Kaidee’s
+ Seared Tuna at Pla Dib
+ Mexican Food at La Monita
+ Salmon Mania Roll at Zen Cucina
+ Feasts at Jae On

How to Cross the Thailand-Laos Border Via the Friendship Bridge, Starting in Bangkok: My double-entry tourist visa finally ran out of extension options in July, so I made the common “visa run” to Vientiane, which after all these years spent exploring Southeast Asia was somehow my first trip to Laos. My trip began with an early Air Asia flight to Udon Thani, and then… well, you can read the whole story here.

Eating Out is an Everyday Joy in Bangkok; The Rare Home-Cooked Meal is a Special Treat: I still dream about the amazing spread my friends Joy and Em whipped up for us that evening. Read on and you’ll see why.

Where to Find a Michelin Star, Ice-Skating Rink, and Body Shape Solutions Under One Roof in Bangkok: I’ve lived just around the corner from CentralWorld Plaza both times I’ve taken up temporary residence in Bangkok, which means I’ve probably eaten there at least 150 times. The food is a big draw, but there’s so much more to it. Just don’t call it a mall: it’s a “lifestyle complex.”

Three-Wheeled Bangkok Adventures in Songkran (Booze Me Up and Get Me Soaked): Quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in Bangkok, as well as the most fun. A lot of people sneer at booze-fueled Songkran merriment–and I don’t totally disagree with that opinion–but everything about this particular experience was perfect, including the fact that nobody got hurt (but probably should have). I wrote another related piece about what Songkran means to me, as an expat in Bangkok.

How Thunderstorms and Wrong Turns Made Bangkok’s Best Pad Thai Taste Even Better: When I wrote this, I considered the gooey pad thai at the legendary late-night hole-in-the-wall Thip Samai my favorite in Bangkok. It’s still one of the best and well worth seeking out, but if you only have one plate of pad thai during your visit, try to make it one from the sweet brother-and-sister duo parked on Soi Chidlom.

For Lunch, Off-Key Karaoke with a Side of Surliness, Som Tam, and Sticky Rice for 60 Baht: You wouldn’t have any reason to go to this dingy, somewhat depressing food court on the fifth floor of the aging wholesale shopping center City Complex, but curious lunchtime karaoke and a solid som tam makes it worth a visit.

Revisiting a Favorite Old Haunt in Bangkok: I have just about beaten this topic/restaurant to death here, but with good reason: Jae On is quite simply one of the most special places for me in Bangkok.