It's good to be a tourist in... Rome!

Before I tell you about our travels in Calabria, I must share something about our recent visit to Rome (post-Istanbul) where we spent a week gathering content for several travel stories, experiencing walking tours, hotels, restaurants, and museums, doing interviews with fascinating locals, and for my husband and co-writer Terry, shooting photos. Despite the fact that we were working, for the first time in a long time, I felt like a tourist. And, much to my surprise, it felt fantastic. We'd been to Rome a few times before, yet this trip was different. The first time we visited, a decade ago, Terry and I were spending a summer backpacking through Italy, Spain and Portugal. The second trip I took my mother as part of a summer sojourn to places she'd always wanted to go but had never been - Istanbul, the Greek Islands, Paris, Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Spain - as a way toward healing and learning to live again following my dad's death from cancer. The third visit was at the end of another long Italian summer for Terry and I that involved writing a book in Milan, followed by (our reward!) travel to some Italian places we'd never been together, a driving trip through Sicily, time kicking back on the Aeolian Islands, a jaunt to the Amalfi Coast and Capri where our days were spent walking and swimming and nights spent eating and drinking, and finally some days in each of Napoli and Roma where we did the design hotels, hot new restaurants, and hip bars. This trip to Rome was altogether different. For the stories we were researching we did a series of guided tours and walks (something we never do), and we stayed in the Vatican City and Via Veneto, where it's impossible to escape the tour groups and hoards of tourists. We were just two of tens of thousands of travellers clutching our guidebooks as we did the sights. Sure I was making lengthy notes and observing the people as much as the places, and Terry was carting around one too many cameras to be a tourist, but still we somehow got caught up in the flow. Like little leaves we floated down Rome's cobblestone streets, centuries of complex history surrounding us, and we loved it. For the first time in a long time I felt so exhilarated by a city, it was as if I was experiencing it for the first time. And it felt great. It felt good to be a tourist in Rome. But I'm not sure how many other cities I could say that about...

On the road again... in Calabria!

We've been on the road in Calabria, the 'toe' of Italy's boot. But with little internet access, so please forgive me for the silence. We've been researching and shooting a new guidebook, the first by a major English-language publisher to this little-visited region. (Ah, but how 'little-visited' is it? More on that soon.) Today the speedometer hit 2,670 kilometers as we completed our loop of the region, and with it most of our research of the area. We've visited every major city and all of the most interesting towns and villages. We've criss-crossed Calabria several times, and at one point as we drove down the gorgeous (albeit very narrow and extremely winding) road from Gimigliano to Tiriolo we could look to one side and see the azure-coloured Ionian Sea and to the other the equally alluring Tyrrhenian Sea. It must be Italy's narrowest stretch of land. So far (we still have another four or five days left), it's been a trip that has both exceeded our expectations as much as it has disappointed, and one that's confirmed many of our preconceived ideas about the place while being full of many surprises. But isn't that what travelling is all about? More on Calabria soon! Being on the road is exhausting and I desperately need some sleep.

Or... everything old is new again

While in Istanbul last week I picked up the May special 'Europe' issue of US Travel + Leisure with a feature on "Hidden European Neighbourhoods". The author writes: "Beyoglu is now reclaiming its status as Istanbul's favourite playground". Yet Beyoglu has always been Istanbul's commercial heart and its main pedestrianised street is the city's main shopping boulevard. Beyoglu is hardly "hidden" and it has always had a buzz about it, especially in the evening when it seems the whole of Turkey is out shopping, eating and drinking. The neighbourhoods that have experienced a renaissance in recent years are Tunel, Cukurcuma and Cihangir, considered the coolest by locals and the most interesting to explore for travellers with their cutting-edge boutiques, music stores, vintage clothes shops, antique stores, hip cafes and bars. Take a look at 'Istanbul, the Undiscovered Capital of Cool', which we published in April 2007. I'm in Rome this week, so it's amusing to read that Ponte, Parione and Regola are the eternal city's latest hot spots. These neighbourhoods are a hop, skip and a jump from Piazza Navona and their well-trodden cobblestone streets have always been the focus of tourist activity. While they're lovely, again, they're far from "hidden". Monti is much more fascinating, with its music school, funky boutiques, design stores, and laidback trattorias, while gritty San Lorenzo is the city's bohemian heart. But then the residents of Monti and San Lorenzo would probably argue their 'hoods have always been hip.

One traveller's 'latest discovery' is another's old favorite

Around five years ago the glossy travel mags started talking up Croatia as the next hot destination and travel journos were writing about the country as if it had only just been discovered. The Croatian National Tourism Board saturated the global media with their 'Mediterranean As It Once Was' campaign and everyone bought it. And bought tickets to Zagreb. We spent the summer there in 2003, travelling the length and breadth of the country. What we discovered was something very different to what was being marketed. Dubrovnik was one of the most divine cities we'd ever seen, the islands were beautiful, the myriad walled towns were atmospheric, and the nightlife was wild. However, Croatia was far from untouched. It was easily as crowded with tourists as Paris, Rome or Venice for that matter. Indeed, the Italians had been vacationing in Croatia for many years before it was 'discovered' by the English-speaking travel media. In 2005, Croatia had 10 million visitors. Still, in 2006 National Geographic Adventure magazine voted it destination of the year. It just goes to show that one person's latest, hottest destination is another person's old favorite. Nothing is new to anyone, it's just new again.

Life of a travel writer: loving the work

As much as I loved the dinners and parties in Istanbul, I have to admit though that the highlight for us was the work rather than the play. While some of the other press, including writers who'd flown all the way from New York for just a few days, seemed content to sleep in, enjoy the free spa treatments and meals, and kick back at the hotel, for us there were too many other fabulous opportunities in the city to ignore. Every day was jam-packed with interviews and shoots - with chefs, fashion designers and an oud craftsman - and squeezing in time to explore and photograph the less written about areas of Istanbul in between. After the W we shifted to another boutique hotel, Lush, closer to the action around Taksim and Beyoglu, and we pounded the pavement all day every day. It was hard work but we got to meet some incredibly fascinating people and not only got great material for the stories we were commissioned to write, but we were also able to gather content we can continue to use for many months to come. That's the life of a travel writer for me. And I love it!

Life of a travel writer: VIP openings, acrobatic waiters and private parties

Will you forgive me the silence? Perhaps when I tell you where I've been. If you followed the Lonely Planet author scandal you'd get the impression from Thomas Kohnstamm that fees are so low and travel writers so poor they have to deal drugs and scam meals to survive. Or if you read the blogs, comments and stories in response from other writers you'd think we all work 16 hour days, seven days a week (which we do), but that miserable fees force us to sleep on friends' couches when we travel and the closest we get to Michelin-starred restaurants is watching customers dine through the window while we make menu notes outside (which we certainly don't do!). If you work hard, network well, and line up a number of commissions for a trip, you can sleep in design hotels, dine of fine meals, and live a rather luxe life if you choose. Last Monday we flew to Istanbul to cover the opening of the new W hotel and Jean-Georges Vongerichten's Spice Market for two in-flights and two travel magazines, and write a guide to Istanbul for another travel mag. What followed was a whirlwind four days of work - and play! The W generously hosted us in a stunning room and fed us Jean-Georges' superb cuisine for two days. We went to an exclusive press dinner at Spice Market with a dozen other writers and W's fantastic global PR team. We sipped bubbly poured by an acrobat for a waiter who hung upside down from a chandelier of champagne bottles! And we boogied the night away (with Jean-Georges himself!) at the hotel's spectacular launch party, attended by Istanbul's jet set and hundreds of W VIPs around the globe. And it was fun. Especially being invited by Jean-Georges to his private after-party in the hotel's presidential suite with magical views of Istanbul!

Strange Planet (part 4) or How I learnt to stop worrying and love the Lonely Planet Loophole

by Terry Carter*
Oh yes, there's more... So far this Lonely Planet thing is a mess of contradictions and odd confessions. Surely the guy who photocopied and stapled together the first copies of a Lonely Planet guide by hand on his kitchen table will come to the rescue and sort out this nonsense once and for all. Cue Lonely Planet co-founder and travel industry legend, Tony Wheeler:

…accepting free car hire from a tourist office would not be "a major problem". "That doesn't disappoint me..."
Well, Tony, it disappoints me. And my bank manager. I still have the receipts for cars hired across several countries, for several Lonely Planet books, going back several years. Shall I send them care of the BBC, or directly to you? I hear you’re pretty flush these days. I’ll expect a nice little nought on the end of my bank balance next week. Enough about my out of pocket expenses, though, back to the oddly twisting scandal. So now even the co-founder of the cultish company is admitting that certain kinds of freebies aren’t a problem. Admittedly, free car hire is an obtuse example, especially if it’s organized by the tourism people, so it’s not that bad. The Lonely Planet is still on its orbit, it just wobbled a little. Still looks beautiful from space. Thanks for reading! And drive safely. Drive Avis. What? He says more about not accepting freebies?

“From my perspective this is an impossible standard to meet," he says.
You have to be kidding me. But you, Tony Wheeler, put that standard in place. Your perspective? You ran the company. What not change this to a goal that is achievable? Why not have a more nuanced policy? Why say this now? But could it get any worse than the co-founder of LP stating that he never expected his writers to refuse comps? For the love of Lonely Planet, please let it stop. But it doesn’t…

When asked whether Lonely Planet was betraying the trust of its readers by insisting it did not take freebies, he says curtly: "Well, that's what you'll have to say, won't you?"
Sweet Jesus. OK. I’ll run with that. I’m no newspaper editor, but I swear that my headline would have read something more insightful than ‘A guide delusion makes it Lonely at the top’. I don’t even understand what that means. I’m not sure it’s even English. Here’s a more accurate and revealing headline, if I do say so myself: LONELY PLANET CO-FOUNDER SAYS COMPANY BETRAYED READERS TRUST. ADMITS WRITERS ACCEPT 'FREEBIES'. Many people in the travel industry see Lonely Planet, its employees and fanatical fans as a kind of cult. I see their point now and I agree to a certain extent, but I never realised it was a doomsday cult. Not sure if I’d be drinking from the water coolers at Lonely Planet headquarters today. Just a thought…

* Terry is my husband, co-author and a photographer. We wrote and contributed to over 25 guidebooks and stacks of other content for Lonely Planet over four years. Take a read of part 1 and part 2 of this strange saga here.

Strange Planet (part 3) or How I learnt to stop worrying and love the Lonely Planet Loophole

By Terry Carter*
Hallelujah! On the weekend Peter Munro writing for The Age in Melbourne cleared up the whole Lonely Planet scandal. Thank god that’s over. Yes, we were getting bored with it too. But in the words of Lonely Planet publisher Piers Pickard: “No freebies — period.” Thank you and goodnight! What? Oh, wait, there is a caveat? Sorry, folks. Quotes from the story in italics below.

Peter Munro writes: Are there exceptions? He (Piers) pauses. He says Lonely Planet lets its authors accept free entry to state-run institutions such as museums or national parks.
Phew. Well that’s okay, journalists usually get media passes to these things anyway. We’ve always asked for them. Nothing to see here, move along. Thanks for reading! Oh no, now what?

Prodded further, he says the company also allows freebies when obtained through a tourist office. He says the wording of its policy will be tightened further in future books to close any perceived loophole. Readers, do you know what you can get through a tourist office as a travel writer working on a guide book to a city or country? Sometimes very little. A meeting with the tourism officials, with tea and biscuits and mind-numbing small talk. But most of the time you can get the whole trip paid for. In full. Flights, transfers, meals, hotels, car hire, and VIP treatment the whole way. That’s not a perceived loophole, that’s a free pass to writers such as the couple mentioned in the article who openly admit to taking freebies. But more on these miscreants later. Now back to Piers. Changing the text in the books to "close any perceived loophole" when you allow freebies obtained through a tourist office smells like three-day old fish at an outdoor market. It’s still not clear what the real policy is. And when Lonely Planet stakes its credibility on this, you’d better get it sorted out. But let’s cut Piers some slack. Perhaps he was just a little flustered because of all the media attention over the past couple of weeks. He’s probably as tired as Barack Obama and as nervous as Hillary Clinton. This might account for his weak attempt at spin:

The interest in the scandal is "because of the trust people have in Lonely Planet not because of distrust".
Nice try, but not quite accurate. The interest in the scandal for many is because your customers (your loyal readers) want to know whether they can still trust your books or not. You know, whether you really are the only ‘cleanskin’ guide publisher, who doesn’t accept freebies and visits every establishment. Once again, Lonely Planet has staked its reputation on this, and, as former global publisher Richard Everist puts it in the story, it positions itself as, "being on the side of the angels". You’re the good guys. With integrity and moral fortitude. But there are others, especially in the travel writing industry, who are interested in seeing Lonely Planet get taken down a notch. Including many other publishers who feel that Lonely Planet had been setting themselves up for this by stating the policy in the first place, not paying authors enough to fulfil the promise, or hiring authors who really take advantage of the ‘perceived’ loophole. Astonishingly, the author Peter Munro finds one Lonely Planet author totally in agreement with everything in the paragraph I’ve just written:

New York-based writer Zora O'Neill, who has written guides for several publishers including Lonely Planet, says Lonely Planet uses its official no-freebies policy "to imply it's somehow better, cleaner, more righteous" than its rivals.
To implicitly validate that it’s not better, cleaner and more righteous than its rivals, Zora goes on to commit an act of author disembowelment and perhaps bids farewell to her relationship with Lonely Planet.

Freebies were a necessity "both in terms of dealing with the pay you get and getting to know a place". Lonely Planet author verification teams, once you’ve finished in South America following up Thomas’ tall tales, next stop Egypt. Zora is one of a group of authors who find the best way of “dealing with the pay” and “getting to know a place” is to accept the commission and wink at the loophole, instead of doing the right thing and refusing the commission. Author Paul Hellander is another one of the authors who enjoys the fruits of the loophole provided by Lonely Planet’s policy, but with a twist:

…Paul Hellander, who has worked for Lonely Planet since 1994 on about 35 titles, says flexibility still applies. He argues that while he has never sought a freebie on assignment, he is entitled to accept them regardless of Mr Pickard's protestations. "(The policy) certainly means I can receive a freebie without any real soul-searching because from my view I have not transgressed the line of exchanging content for service," he says. OK. So Lonely Planet has a policy with a ‘perceived’ loophole and Hellander takes guilt-free advantage of it. Lonely Planet says they’re tightening it and Hellander says he’s still ‘entitled’ and flexibility still applies. So, what’s changed? As long as authors with his attitude are still working for Lonely Planet, nothing’s changed.

He says in some countries, such as Greece, the refusal of a free meal or accommodation could offend locals. "If someone says, 'The meal is on me,' I say thank you and walk away," he says. "Lonely Planet would be fooling itself if it sincerely believed its authors had not received a gratuity at some stage."
But Paul, how does the restaurant or hotel know you’re from Lonely Planet? Lara and I have written the Greece chapters (twice) for several Lonely Planet European guidebooks and we've never had a restaurant owner in Greece just randomly give us free meals. And we’ve eaten at many of the restaurants that you’ve reviewed in your books. And we’ve done it while working for Lonely Planet. Here’s a tip: Need to get the correct phone number, opening hours or ask if they’re closed in winter? Ask after you’ve paid the bill. If you end up having to tell them why you need these details and you show them your business card and they insist that the meal is on them, put the money on the table and walk away. We’ve never been chased off a Greek island for paying a bill while working for Lonely Planet and we’ve been in the same situations as you – and I’ve put money on the table and walked away. Plenty of times. I guess we just have a different idea of ‘entitlement’, the kind of entitlement where you show someone your business card, they offer you a freebie and this somehow ‘entitles’ you to accept. After all, you don’t want to offend anyone…

Even more far-fetched is Hellander’s claim that accepting free accommodation is equally a guilt-free practice. Firstly, Paul, you’re letting hoteliers in the industry think that Lonely Planet authors can be bought. (Although unfortunately this isn’t news.) And, yes, hoteliers talk about it to each other. And they don’t see Lonely Planet as any different than all the other guidebook companies. In fact, some see it as being the most cynical and duplicitous of all the guidebook companies. Secondly, it makes it awkward for the next author who can’t be bought while on assignment for Lonely Planet. But soul-searching clearly isn’t your strongest suit. I can probably guess why. There are several other Lonely Planet authors I could name who point to this loophole while accepting freebies for Lonely Planet, but if The Age story is any indicator they’ll probably end up confessing anyway, as if they’re members of some strange cult seeking absolution. Strange indeed.

* Terry is my husband, co-author and a photographer. We wrote and contributed to over 25 guidebooks and stacks of other content for Lonely Planet over four years. Take a read of part 1 and part 2 of this strange saga here.

Our latest travel writing: in print and online

After a busy period of writing (and web designing as well for Terry), it's wonderful to see our work in print and online. Take a look at Terry's photography website and let us know what you think. As he's just finished freshening it up, his home page is blooming with spring flowers. You can almost smell them! I picked them in the fragrant garden at our friends' villa in Kas, Turkey, where we recently spent a month. (Well I have to take credit for something...) Take a look here: www.terencecarterphotography.com. The May issue of Gulf Air's gorgeous in-flight magazine, Gulf Life, has a special feature on the 7 modern wonders of the Arab world, including our story Seeing the Light on Masdar, an extraordinary eco-project being undertaken by Abu Dhabi government, one element of which is a Norman Foster-designed eco-city which will be the world's first carbon-neutral, zero-waste community. I wouldn't mind a little apartment there! In the May issue of Jazeera Airways in-flight magazine J-Mag, look out for Beyond the Beach, my off-the-beaten-track guide to Cyprus, which should go up any day now. We've really stayed off the tourist trail this month. Terry also wrote for Viator on his Top 10 Off-the-beaten-path experiences in Dubai. There was lots more of course, but we'll let you know when they're in print. Pictured? My pic of spring flowers in Kas, and in the previous post also. They're not nearly as gorgeous as Terry's but I think they're pretty all the same.

Antalya, Turkey: hot nuts on a cold night

This is the stand of hot nuts for sale down at the old harbour at Antalya that I told you about in my previous post. The woman was there toasting her nuts the first week we arrived when there was still a chill in the air and it was so cold we had the fireplace on downstairs. Now it's spring and the weather has warmed up so much that today felt like summer. She was still there this evening, selling her nuts, and she's added pulses, seeds and sweets to her assortment of offerings. She was alone today and I wondered where the man was who was in the photo I took that night. There was an intimacy there between them that I can't explain. Or perhaps it was just in that moment. Perhaps it just felt good to be close to someone. Someone warm. Because surely hot nuts couldn't be enough? Not when there's a chill in the air.

Antalya, Turkey: silhouettes and beers at sunset

I can't get enough of the sunsets in Antalya. Early evening, an hour or so before the sun goes down, we wander down to the old harbour, a ten minute walk from the house we're renting. During the day Terry and I are so focused on work, that apart from our coffee and lunch breaks, our bend-and-stretch moments, and our breaks to play with the kittens (when we arrived four weeks ago we were asked to babysit a cat and her four newborn kittens; the offer was too good to refuse), we rarely speak and our eyes barely leave our laptop screens. Once upon a time when I worked a full-time job my staff used to call me a robot. Now I freelance I'm the same. Terry's no different. We could be working in separate offices, for separate companies. It's like this when we're in write-up mode. So we use our walks to catch up on the day's 'events'. We ignore the touts wanting to sell us carpets, postcards and tacky souvenirs. Especially the guy in the fez who is always posing for a picture with sunburnt German tourists. And we ignore the guys inviting us to sit down in their restaurants for dinner (at 6pm!), to have a beer, to take a boat tour. And we especially ignore the guys in silly velvet costumes yelling out "Hello! Ice-cream!". Today we look at each other and laugh. It sounds as if they're saying hello to their ice creams. Do these calls ever get people in? Is it not enough to display the ice-cream and for tourists to see it and think "Mmm... ice-cream... that looks good, I might have an ice cream..." Do we need to be shouted at? The touts in Turkey are bugging us more than ever before. They should know we're 'locals' by now, I think. Terry and I use our walks to brief each other on emails received, work opportunities and offers, commissions underway, progress made in trip planning, and new project ideas. We always seem to have new project ideas. This is part of our problem. We're never satisfied. We always want more. We take on too much. And we chat about the travel news and world news and emails from family and friends. And then we enjoy the sunset. With the locals. Who walk along the concrete breakwater and back again. Who canoodle on the rocks. Play with their kids. Read newspapers. Paint their boats. Fix their fishing nets. Buy hot nuts. Eat hot nuts. Play guitar. Drink beers. They always drink beers. They really seem to like their beer here, especially the local brand Efes. Once the sun is so low that the people are only silhouettes, we snap a few pics and go 'home'. Back to work. And then I'm reminded that no matter how much we're living like locals, we're not locals. If we were locals, we'd still be down at the harbour drinking beers.

Living like locals

Two months ago we arrived in Antalya, Turkey, from Crete via Northern Cyprus. We weren't in Turkey to research or write about Turkey. We were here to hole up at our friends' villa in Kas and use it as a base for a month to write up the Crete and Cyprus books, write a tonne of travel stories for magazines, and plan our next trips. When it was time to leave Kas, we still had more to do, and more work had come in, so we returned to Antalya and rented an apartment for another month. It's a rooftop apartment in a renovated Ottoman house in the old town and we've been here writing, and living like locals. In some ways, it's a relief to not have the pressure of being a parachute artist. We've had no personal desire to play the traveller either, as we've been here before. So we haven't done anything touristy in our time here. In fact we've eaten out just a couple of times. After two months on the road in Cyprus and Crete, moving hotels every couple of days and eating all our meals in restaurants (and with another few months of the same ahead of us), all we wanted to do was eat at 'home'. We've still gotten to know the city. Just a different side of the city to the average traveller. We know every supermarket in town, and which one to head to for what products. We know the different words for lamb and beef in Turkish, and while our vocabulary reads like a shopping list, we know little more than the usual greetings and courtesies. Yet we've somehow built up a rapport with our butcher, who when he sees us looks pleased and smiles. And he seems pleased that we like him to prepare our lamb cutlets the Turkish way, beaten flat and tender and smothered in spices. We know all the courier companies as we've been sending and receiving contracts and manuscripts between here and London, with varying degrees of success. Let's just say that we know the Kaleici (Old Town) streets better than the couriers. We know Antalya is a college town although you rarely read that anywhere. It has a lively, youthful scene, and these kids, especially the arts students (the ones carrying the sketch pads) have the coolest haircuts we've ever seen, so cool they'd be right at home in Milan. We know where the locals go for their afternoon walks. In the seaside neighborhoods just outside the tourist area. And that in the early evening they like to take beers and food they bring from home and set up picnics on the wooden tables overlooking the water. In the same park young couples canoodle on the benches, parents play with their kids, and a lonely man stares at the sea. We see the man around town. He's missing part of one leg, from the knee down, and he moves about on crutches, balancing a stand hung with fluffy toys and Valentines hearts which he sells to earn his living. He usually wears a camouflage jacket although the other day he was wearing a clean new shirt. And he has tea in another park some days, staring at the sea. We may not know the tourist sights, but each day we're seeing little things that move us more than any museum display. Things most travellers wouldn't notice as they rush through a destination in a few days.

Top secrets of travel writers: #2 the art of parachute artistry

Lonely Planet founder Tony Wheeler said in a 2005 New Yorker story ''The Parachute Artist': "To research a big guidebook, you need some people who live in the country, but you also need some parachute artists, someone who can drop into a place and quickly assimilate, who can write about anywhere.” The skills and tricks of a parachute artist are one of the secrets of travel writing. In much of the Thomas Kohnstamm media coverage, online reader comments and discussions on travels forums, travel writers were criticized for not living or staying long enough in a destination they're researching. Because few people recognize or appreciate the art of parachute artistry. So how do travel writers quickly assimilate to a city? And how can you do so too?
1) visit the tourist office: don't just leave with a map and bundle of brochures and let the staff get away with circling "we are here" on your map. Interrogate them. Ask what's new, what's not in the brochures, what's recently opened in the way of sights, museums, galleries, shops, restaurants, cafes, bars, whatever it is that interests you, then press them for their preferences. Also ask where the interesting neighborhoods are, where locals go out, hang out, shop etc.
2) consult local experts: when you eat somewhere you like, ask the manager, waiter or chef for places similar to where you're eating at and where they eat on their night off; ask the sommelier where he/she likes to drink and eat, where there's a nice little wine bar specializing in local wines; if you like a bar, find out where the bartenders drink after closing; art gallery managers can suggest other galleries; music store staff can tell you where they see live bands; fashion boutique sales staff can direct you to hip areas to shop; hairdressers can recommend the best dance clubs.
3) talk to locals: if you're at a museum, gallery, restaurant, cafe or bar you like, strike up a conversation with locals and ask them where they like to go to see similar shows, eat, drink, hang out, shop, etc. Ask local surfers for the best beaches or people walking in a park for tips on other places to stroll. Don't ask them where they think you should go, but where they like to go. Big difference. Ask people where they think you should go and they'll often name the usual tourist traps, even if they haven't been themselves.
4) 5-star hotel concierges: whether you're staying at the hotel or not, there's nothing stopping you from going to chat to the concierges and get some tips. A 5-star concierge always knows the best restaurants, bars and shops, what's showing at museums and theatres, where to get tickets and the best times to go. Their guests may be discerning but don't think their tips will always be out of your price range if you're on a budget. Not all rich people enjoy throwing their money around, but they tend to expect quality and good-value, whether it's a cheap ethnic eat or a Michelin-starred place.
5) read local publications: buy a local newspaper or magazine from a news stand and pick up those free entertainment, music and clubbing papers, leaflets and postcards, that you often find on the floor in music stores and boutiques. If you're in a city for a while head to a bookstore and look for locally-written guidebooks that you won't find outside the country. For instance, whenever we go to Bangkok we immediately buy the excellent Chic Restaurants and Bars Bangkok book written by local food critics.
So, are you ready to jump? And how do you quickly acquaint yourself with a new place?