Travel Guide

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(CNN) — For many, Wuhan was an unfamiliar word until this month, when the Chinese city was thrust into the spotlight as word of the outbreak of the deadly coronavirus hit headlines around the world. Where is Wuhan?With a population of more than 11 million people according to government figures, Wuhan is the capital city of Hubei province and the biggest city in China’s central region. Located on the Yangtze River, it’s about 800 kilometers (about 500 miles) west of Shanghai, or a four-hour ride by high-speed railway.The city, spanning 8,494 square kilometers, has played a major role in the government’s plan to rejuvenate the nation’s central region for more than a decade. The transportation capital of ChinaWuhan’s high-speed railway maintenance centre is one of just four in the country. -/AFP/AFP/Getty ImagesThanks to its prime location, Wuhan is often referred to as “jiu sheng tong qu,” meaning it’s considered the main thoroughfare of nine provinces.In addition to conventional railway networks, Wuhan is one of the stops on two of the main long-haul high-speed railway lines: Beijing-Guangzhou (from north to south) and Shanghai-Chengdu high-speed railway (from east to west).It’s also home to one of just four major train maintenance centers in the country.Turning to aviation, Wuhan Tianhe International Airport is the only airport in the mid-China region to have direct flights to five different continents.According to data from aviation website Flightconnections.com, Wuhan Airport services non-stop scheduled passenger flights to 109 destinations in 20 countries. These include major cities like London, Moscow, Paris, Rome, New York, San Francisco, Bangkok, Tokyo and Seoul.Wuhan to shut temporarilyOn January 23, government officials announced the temporary closure of Wuhan’s airport and railway stations.All train tickets in and out of Wuhan have also been suspended, while multiple international airlines have canceled flights to the city.All public transport services are suspended until further notice. This is expected to create a lot of chaos as China is now in the middle of Chunyun, or the Spring Festival travel rush. Some 3 billion trips were expected to be made among Chinese people visiting their families to celebrate Lunar New Year — many of those journeys passing through Wuhan. A rising business center, tourist destinationWuhan is a major manufacturing city in China with a heavy focus on automobile and medical equipment: Bosch and PSA both relocated their China headquarters to Wuhan recently.But the city’s historical importance can be traced back more than 3,000 years. Wuhan is listed as one of the Famous Historical and Culture Cities by the state and is home to the ruins of Panlong City. The archaeological site, discovered in the 1950s, includes graves and palace foundations of the ancient walled town from Shang dynasty (1600-1046BC). It was where the Xinhai Revolution broke out in 1911, leading to the overthrow of China’s imperial system.In addition to historical attractions, travelers visit Wuhan for its natural scenery such as Mulan Mountain, a sacred mountain area for both Taoist and Buddhist believers. Wuhan is also a popular jumping off point for those exploring the Three Gorges Dam Scenic Area, which is about 400 kilometers west of the city. Many travelers going on Yangtze River cruises begin their trips in or near Wuhan.

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Drone footage shows a frozen lake in China featuring icy “branches.”

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Host Hidetoshi Nakata takes us on a tour of Tokyo’s stunning Geihinkan — the State Guest House — which accommodates heads of states and diplomats visiting Japan.

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(CNN) — For as long as I can remember, I have struggled to explain to people where I’m from.Americans know of the Soviet Union but have little idea of the different characters of the republics that made up the former USSR.Calling myself Russian didn’t feel authentic. Yet when I referred to Moldavia, where I actually grew up, I would get blank stares. “It’s called Moldova now,” I would say. “Where is it?” the question would immediately follow. As the decades went by, I wasn’t sure myself where I was from. My country wasn’t even on the map when I was young, and in my heart I felt homeless. America was now my home. I’ve spent my entire adult life in the United States. I got married here, raised my daughters and lived my American dream. Still, a piece of me was always missing, and I didn’t know where to go to find it.That was until one day in 2019; I received a message from my high school classmates asking me to return for a reunion.Behind the Iron CurtainGoing back to the place I was raised felt scary. It had been more than 30 years and from what I’ve read in the news, Moldova wasn’t doing well. It’s one of the poorest, least visited and most politically unstable countries in Europe. Many people are leaving. But that was only half the story.It was December 1989. I had just turned 20 when I fled to the United States, leaving my parents behind in the midst of my country’s collapse, right after the fall of the Berlin Wall. I didn’t know a soul. All I had was $61 in my pocket, a small suitcase and a desire to be free. The catalyst for the escape was my arrest for selling a denim skirt. I knew it was illegal to sell anything outside of government-owned shops and if caught I could spend time in prison for “speculation” — trading to make profit.I needed money for food and hoped I wouldn’t be punished, especially with perestroika underway (the program of political and economic reforms that was intended to save the Soviet Union but, some would argue, hastened its end).But when two militiamen took me to the station and interrogated me for an entire day, promising to ruin my life, I was scared. A bribe got me released, and by then I instinctively knew I had to find my way out. I understood that once I was beyond the Iron Curtain, there was no going back.’Aren’t you curious?’Elina Fuhrman (right) and her school friend Olga Golban in 1986. Courtesy Elina FuhrmanI did make one trip in 1992 to Chisinau, capital of the newly renamed Moldova, to see my parents. The Soviet Union no longer existed, at least on paper, and I foolishly thought it meant I could now freely travel, at least through Eastern Europe, in this brave new world.On my way back to America, I was taken off the train from Chisinau to Bucharest and held at the Romanian border in a padded cell. If not for the serendipitous encounter with the newly appointed Moldovan national security adviser at a Washington, D.C., party weeks before my trip, I would have probably been jailed for leaving my motherland the way I did. “My dear girl, nothing has changed,” a border guard told me after my release following the Moldovan President’s orders in the middle of the night. Needless to say, at that point there was never going back. Ever. “Aren’t you curious?” one of my classmates messaged me on Facebook. I hadn’t seen most of my classmates since our prom night in June 1986. I forgot many of them, including their names and their faces. We didn’t have class reunions until someone created a Facebook group and started adding everyone to reconnect. We are spread out all over the world, but this year we were all turning 50, and seeing each other again seemed like a great idea to some. How do I go back to the place I removed from my memory? A vanished country that I told myself I had no connection to? I brought my family to the US in the mid-’90s, and there was absolutely nobody left in Moldova for me to see. Do I want to unknot my personal narrative after all these years? A tourist in my own homeTaking the plunge to revisit my childhood home was one of the boldest decisions I’ve made. Here I was armed with a small stack of old black-and-white photographs, the only mementos left from my life there and my even more limited memories. I nervously got ready for my trip. When the plane landed in Chisinau, my anxiety escalated. “Is this your first time in Moldova?” my seatmate asked me. I could tell that my uneasiness was noticeable, but all I could answer back was “in a long time.” Anxiously fumbling with my luggage, I handed my US passport to a Moldovan passport control officer and watched his gaze as he examined it before waving me to exit. I entered the city straight into the embraces of my classmates who came to greet me, and my fears immediately dissipated. My car ride from the airport felt surreal. If not for my childhood friends beside me, I couldn’t tell where I was. The new name for Moldova is fitting, because Chisinau doesn’t look like anything I remember. I felt like a tourist in my own home. Everything has been transformed: the alphabet, the money, the flag, the clothing, the billboards. The gray monolith that’s been etched in my mind is no more; the city and the people are more colorful. Supermarkets and designer boutiques replaced the state-owned shops selling propaganda and uniforms. Construction work is everywhere, and everyone is talking on a cellphone. You can buy sushi, go to a karaoke bar and have a burger or French pastries.The Soviet past I remember is just that — a vanished way of life, an old story or an archived film. The life and the childhood I remember no longer exist. What I do find here is the connection to my classmates, an extended family I told myself a long time ago I didn’t have. Communist youth1984: As members of the Komsomol youth organisation, the children are carrying real guns. Courtesy Elina FuhrmanWe are the children of an extinct world, and we will always be bound together by the profound experiences we can’t even begin to explain to our kids. Only we know what’s it like to grow up indoctrinated with a rigid ideology only to see it crumble before our eyes on the cusp of our adulthood. To have our formative years coincide with the sweeping shift of the political landscape and subsequent collapse of the only world we knew growing up. All of us were raised as upstanding communist youth and to believe we were lucky to live in the country of the happiest childhood. We came of age with glasnost (openness) — a Soviet government reform introduced in the mid-198s to give people more rights and freedoms — and in this changing world, we were battling our desire to live alongside the need to survive. We all share the experience of unlearning everything we learned as kids. We were the last generation to grow up behind the Iron Curtain. As we made our ways to different parts of the world, created new lives and new identities, we all realized that we would forever be trapped between two worlds. But what we found going back to our hometown is a sense of collective identity, a home within each other, a childhood home we thought we no longer had.I came to Chisinau with a question: What changed more — Moldova or me?I didn’t know how to answer it, so I asked my classmates. We agreed that everything is unrecognizable, but the changes in the city couldn’t compare to the changes within us. As we toured our hometown and surrounding areas on a bus, we felt like visitors in an unfamiliar city, discovering its secrets and learning its newly written history. The biggest change for me was that I no longer felt homeless in my heart.

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(CNN) — If your sweetheart turns to you tonight and whispers “shall we try for a little one?”, don’t dismiss them out of hand. It could be they’re talking about an Irish island. Great Blasket, on Europe’s Atlantic fringes, is seeking a couple to become summer caretakers and sole full-time residents of this unoccupied island off Ireland’s west coast. As long as you’re not sticklers for electricity or hot running water, you’ll embrace the majestic 1,100 acres (4 1/2 square kilometers) of emerald isle as your domain. As well as sublime views, the generous rain keeps the landscape lush and those stiff Atlantic breezes power the wind turbine that generates enough electricity to charge up your phone. The roles, suited to a couple or two friends, involves the management of the island’s coffee shop and three vacation cottages from April to October this year. Accommodation and food are provided and wages discussed on application.Candidates should be aware they’ll be facing some tough competition. “We’ve had about 7,000 applications,” Alice Hayes tells CNN Travel on January 16, having posted the job vacancy online just six days earlier. Hayes and her partner, Billy O’Connor, live on the nearby Dingle Peninsula and O’Connor runs regular boat tours to the island in summertime. Together, the couple refurbished the islands’ cottages, one of which was home to legendary storyteller Peig Sayers, whose Irish-language autobiography “Peig,” published 1936, has been a standard text for generations of Irish students.Sayers had “a very tough and difficult life on the island,” says Hayes, and her famously bleak book documented “the hardship she went through.”The island’s 2019 caretakers were Lesley Kehoe and Gordon Bond. Like Sayers, they shared their Great Blasket experiences with the world — although their Instagram and Twitter accounts presented a rosier view of Atlantic living. However, Kehoe tells CNN Travel, wannabe caretakers should take note: “What you see on social media isn’t what it’s all about.” While she posted “pictures of bonfires, fields and sunsets,” what you didn’t see is Kehoe “running round the cottages making beds” or “queues coming out of the coffee shop.” “You can easily forget that it gets up to 400 visitors a day,” she adds. “it can be incredibly busy.”As for off-the-grid living, Kehoe says that while you can use your cottage’s kettle to boil water for showers, after a few days she steeled herself and got used to showering cold. Start your morning that way, she says, and “at least you know that’s the coldest you’ll be that day.” The water is fed by an island spring and that pure water and fresh air has its benefits. “My skin, my hair, my general health was incredible,” says Kehoe. There’s no electricity or Wi-Fi on the island, but, surprisingly, the mobile internet reception is excellent, thanks to a mast a few miles away on the mainland. Of those 7,000 — and counting — applications Hayes and O’Connor are now sifting through, there will no doubt be a large number of people with a romanticized view of what the job entails. However, Kehoe says that those who know they’re the person for the task will have the “gut instinct” that they are a Blasket Islander in waiting. She says that she and Bond were unable to return this year “for practical reasons,” but “if we could do it again, we would.”Not only has the experience been a powerful one for her and her partner, they’ve also made lifelong friends with Hayes and O’Connor. She and Bond are now back home in Kildare, near Dublin, but plan plenty of repeat visits. While there are those who criticize the “commercialization” of Great Blasket and its neighboring Blasket Islands, Kehoe thinks the global attention the island is receiving is ultimately beneficial. “I think that the work Billy and Alice do to keep the island alive is so much more important than leaving it out there fossilizing. If that [industry] wasn’t there, it’d just be ruins.” For more information about Great Blasket Boat Tours, island accommodation and Blasket Island trips, visit greatblasketisland.net.

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(CNN) — Chris Gursky nearly died hang gliding. No, that’s not an exaggeration. There’s a viral video to prove it.Yeah, you read that right: Gursky spent over two spine-chilling minutes hanging on for his life, the glider soaring high above the ground as Gursky gripped on with a single hand.Thankfully, he lived to tell the hair-raising tale. But while most people might be put off aerial adventures for good after such an experience, Gursky — undaunted — wanted to give it another shot.And so, less than a year later, he was back, surveying the Alpine landscape, about to step over the ledge and go through it all again — albeit, attached to the harness this time round.”I said, ‘I want to do it, I want to get up there, I want to do it again,’ ” recalls Gursky, who lives in Florida.”The hardest point, I guess, was standing at the launch point — the same place I launched off the first time — and just looking down saying, ‘Alright, we’re going to do this again.'”But once once we left the ground I was just taken along and it was absolutely beautiful.”A day to remember Gursky and his wife Gail don’t shy away from heights and often enjoy aerial pursuits while on vacation. On previous trips they’ve enjoyed zip lining, he says.The couple’s hang gliding adventure in November 2018 was the first time either one of them had tried this particular air sport.It was also their very first day in Switzerland, Gursky says, and it was a stunning day, the sun illuminating the dazzling panoramas of the Alps and the lush forests below.Gursky’s wife took off successfully, and he was poised to follow.”It kind of went in slow motion when we took off,” he tells CNN Travel.”I didn’t exactly know what was going on, what happened until it was way too late to either drop off or do anything about it. I just remember realizing that the only thing holding me up from probably imminent death was my hands.”The video shows how Gursky grabbed onto the glider with his left arm, and scrambled with the right to hold onto the instructor, who was attached.An adrenaline rush — for the wrong reasons.Watching the video is pretty stressful, so it’s impossible to imagine what was racing through Gursky’s mind during the ordeal.”At one point when I looked down, I pretty much saw that the trees were all changing colors. It was an absolutely beautiful day and I just looked and I was like, this is absolutely beautiful — and I’m going to fall to my death here. And I kind of envisioned myself falling to the air. And I think at that point, I really just tried to concentrate fully on hanging on as hard as I could, for as long as I could.”Gursky’s ordeal is a pretty impressive exercise in endurance, both physical and mental. Faced with such a terrifying scenario, many of us would panic and potentially lose control. He reckons what got him through is a mix of being strong-minded — and strong-wristed.”Once I put my mind to something I’m pretty stubborn about it,” Gursky says. “I’m not a gym rat. I don’t work out like a maniac or anything, but I’ve always had a pretty strong grip. But I’m right handed and I held on mostly with my left hand the whole time — so I’m not sure where that came from.”There was just no other option but to hold on, says Gursky, so that’s what he did. He remembers feeling pretty relieved when he finally landed on the ground — even if it was a bumpy descent. He fractured his right wrist and tore a tendon, but was otherwise left unscathed.The aftermathLying in the hospital later that day, Gursky tried to make sense of what had happened.The pilot might have made a grievous error, but he, in Gursky’s words, “turned out to be a pretty stand up guy, even though he nearly killed me.”Gursky had no wish to name and shame the instructor or the company, or pursue legal action.”I just wanted to take the high road, and just move on, move past it,” he says.He did share his experience on Facebook though, recounting the story alongside a picture of his arm in the cast.But because Gursky is known by friends and family as someone who enjoys a laugh, a lot of people assumed he was kidding.The video footage proved otherwise.Chris Gursky and his wife Gail, about to embark on their second hang gliding experience.Courtesy Chris Gursky Gursky’s GoPro was clipped on to the hang-glider, and he left the camera behind when he headed to the hospital. When it was later returned to him by the hang gliding company, Gursky says the footage had been deleted.”This could have been just a big, wild crazy story that I told a few people and no one really knew about it,” he says. But Gursky found a company that helps retrieve lost footage — and they got it back. Gursky posted the video on YouTube, entitiled “SWISS MISHAP” and with the warning that “Content may be disturbing to some. Including my wife!”It’s since clocked up over 9.9 million views.”My wife would not watch it for oh, probably several weeks. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t really want to see what I went through because she really had no idea what happened until we’re in the emergency room,” he says.The video ends with the statement, which almost seems comical in light of the footage that precedes it: “I will go Hang Gliding again as I did not get to enjoy my first flight.”Second time lucky They weren’t empty words — Gursky had every intention of going hang gliding again.Despite everything that happened that fateful November day, Gursky kept returning to the look on her wife’s face when she landed, before she knew what had happened to her husband.”She was standing there and she was absolutely glowing,” he says. “Like she did the coolest thing ever.”Gursky wanted to experience that feeling.He appreciates some people might think he was crazy, voluntarily ascending to the skies once more, but he puts a practical spin on the situation.”I mean, what would the odds be that that happened again, to me?” says Gursky. “It was a one in a million as it was.”Still, his wife kept telling him, right up to the day in September 2019 that they found themselves back in Switzerland, that he didn’t have to go through with it.The couple chose a different hang-gliding company this time round — in fact, Gursky was flying with Wolfgang Siess, considered to be one of the world’s best hang gliders.So he was in safe hands, and didn’t feel that nervous.”It was just everything I hoped it would be, it was effortless, like you were flying. It was fantastic.”So what would Gursky say to adrenaline junkies who find themselves hesitating after watching the video of the flight gone wrong?”Mine was a one in a million, you know? I would say go for it. It’s a incredible experience,” he says.Correction: This article has been updated to correct the length of time Chris Gursky was in the air during his original flight.

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