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Photo: Tom Hyde/My Shot

“Welcome to the Wild West of China,” my guide said as we touched down in Lijiang after a 4-hour flight from Shanghai. Though I didn’t yet spot any cowboy boots, I was indeed far west in the Yunnan province, at the foothills of the Himalaya; bordered by Laos, Vietnam, and Burma.

Impressions of Lijiang performance (Photo: Annie Fitzsimmons)

For an instant introduction to the region, I attended a performance of “Impressions of Lijiang,” with the sacred Jade Dragon Mountain looming behind the outdoor theater.  It is truly a spectacle of local culture, with hundreds of the minority Naxi people performing songs and dances. And no wonder the show is such a creative triumph; the force behind it is Zhang Yimou, famous for directing the Opening and Closing Ceremonies at the Beijing Olympics. I couldn’t leave without purchasing a recording of the music that could transport me back to Lijiang over and over again.

The area is difficult to navigate on your own. I traveled on an Abercrombie & Kent itinerary with the warmest expert guide, Gerald Hatherly. He makes centuries of Chinese history come alive daily. A&K is known for making far-flung getaways like the Yunnan accessible — and also happens to be celebrating its 50th anniversary this year.

The Banyan Tree was our base in Lijiang, and its architecture reflected the design of the Naxi homes while providing all of the comforts of a great hotel. We rode bikes through a valley of green farmland to the village of Bai Sha, and to the infamous Dr. Ho, who has been credited with healing thousands of people in his 90 years. I received a quick eye scan from Dr. Ho, who instantly pronounced (with Gerald interpreting): “healthy” (whew!). His office contains more than 50 pots filled with therapeutic plants and herbs that he gathers in the mountains. Dr. Ho will proudly show you a letter from the Mayo Clinic thanking him for healing a terminally ill cancer patient. I am convinced that if I return in 30 years, a 120-year-old Dr. Ho will still be there, smiling and healing.

From Lijiang we took a stomach-turning drive through the mountains to Shangri-La, or Zhongdian. An easy hour-long hike through the stunning Tiger Leaping Gorge provided me with a much-needed break in the drive. These mountains are home to Khampa Tibetans, and the area provides a look at Tibetan culture, 13,000 feet above sea level. Each morning, from my room at the Songstam Retreat, I awakened to views of the jagged, snow-capped Himalaya. Gerald introduced me and my group to farmer friends of his in the town of Ringha who welcomed us in for cups of yak butter tea and to meet their new baby. A warning: the tea is a hyper-local delicacy, and makes you feel like you’re drinking a cup full of hot butter!

Songzangling Monastery (Photo: Annie Fitzsimmons)

The hotel overlooks the 17th-century Songzangling Monastery, home to hundreds of monks practicing Tibetan Buddhism. At the bustling monastery, I toured colorful temples and meditation halls covered in murals. I was even blessed by a living Buddha (a very high-ranking lama) in his prayer hall, which kept me on cloud nine all week.

As you make your 2012 travel wish lists, I hope you consider adding this faraway corner of the globe. The Yunnan is woefully under-traveled, with Westerners accounting for only 1% of visitors. This unusual and exotic journey felt like a well-kept secret: until now!

Fitzsimmons is a New York-based travel and hotel writer. She is a frequent contributor to publications that share her love of exploration and discovery. Follow her adventures on Twitter at @anniefitz and on her personal blog, Hotel Belle.

Why else would they call this area, along the northeastern part of Florida’s panhandle, the “forgotten” coast? It is remote, undeveloped and, at this time of year, no one’s here.

Oh, wait. I should have said, no tourists. Out in the flat-as-glass Apalachicola Bay every morning, we found dozens of oyster boats quietly harvesting the famous shellfish from the shallow sea floor.

They say it gets busy during the summer, but it’s a different kind of busy than frenetic Panama City, to the west, or St. Petersburg, the closest major city along the coast as you head southeast. Forgotten-coast busy means something else. It’s a little harder to find a parking spot at St. George Island State Park, but the beach remains subdued by Sunshine State standards. You might have a hard time getting a seat at Harry A’s or BJ’s around dinnertime on the weekends, but otherwise, they say, it’s more or less the same place all year round.

Our vacation rental looked out over the bay. The units on the other two sides were dark, their windows shuttered for the season. We watched the sun rise over the ocean in the morning as we sipped tea. (To find a strong cup of espresso, but you have to drive across two long bridges into Apalachicola to find it. It’s at the Cafe Con Leche.)

The biggest attraction on St. George, other than the state park and the ever-present oystermen, is the lighthouse. Back in 2005, the Cape St. George Lighthouse fell into the Gulf of Mexico. Preservationists rallied to save the 1852 landmark, and in late 2008, the reconstructed tower reopened. A new museum just next door is only a few weeks old.

We also swung by the Apalachicola National Estuarine Research Reserve, to check out its recently opened exhibit (my daughter offers a tour of the fish tanks in the video below). It’s one of only 28 national estuarine research reserves nationwide, and you’ll leave with a much clearer picture of why areas like these are worth protecting.

In talking with the few year-round residents of St. George Island we met, it became clear that getting “forgotten” is a good thing in a place like Florida. Most of the coastal areas are overdeveloped, with high-rise hotels and condos competing for the best view of the gulf or the ocean. It’s fun for a few days of R&R, maybe — or maybe not.

In order to really appreciate the remoteness of the forgotten coast, you have to head inland, to the Apalachicola National Forest. On our last day, we did just that. Covering more than half a million acres, it’s the largest national forest in the state and true to its billing, it showed us what this place must have looked like before the area was settled.

At a remote campground (which at this time of year was abandoned), we ran into the only person we’d seen all day — a woman who worked at nearby Tyndall Air Force Base. She was looking for the lighthouse on St. George Island and had gotten lost along the way.

We stood at the edge of the bay, admiring the chocolate-milk colored water framed by seagrass, and I said to her, “Being lost isn’t so bad, is it?”

No, she said. Not here.

Elliott writes The Insider column for National Geographic Traveler. He’s traveling across the country with his family and blogging about the experience on his family travel blog, Away Is Home.

Abu Dhabi is My City

The first place I take a visitor from out of town is Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, an architectural wonder. It is the largest Mosque outside of Mecca or Medina.

When I crave Indian food I always go to Ushna in The Souk at Qaryat al Beri. Don’t miss the black lentils and the terrace seating with views of the Grand Mosque. Overall, Indian food in Abu Dhabi is exceptional.

To escape the city I head out to the Qasr al Sarab Desert Resort by Anantara. It is located about 90 minutes outside the city, among the deep desert dunes.

Qasr al Sarab Desert Resort (Photo: Jennifer Garcia-Alonso)

If I want to shop I go to the impressive Marina Mall.

For complete quiet, I can hide away at Yas Links golf course. Even non-golfers can enjoy the luxurious pool and outdoor dining with views of the golf course and water.

If you come to my city, get your picture taken with a camel! You can find them right in town at the Abu Dhabi Heritage Village or, if you book a 4×4 desert safari, you are sure to encounter a few (many of the desert safaris also offer camel rides).

If you have to order one thing off the menu from Hakkasan it has to be the Jasmine-tea-soaked Wagyu beef ribs.

Magrudy’s is my one-stop shop for great books. As an expat, I love a taste of home, and they will order (almost) any book in print for you.

Locals know to skip those boring hotel bars and check out the dramatic Skylite at the Yas Viceroy Hotel, located inside the Formula 1 circuit, instead.

When I’m feeling cash-strapped I go to the beach!

For a huge splurge I go to dessert and coffee at the Emirates Palace hotel. Pricey pastries are dusted in gold, and if you are really adventurous, you can get a cappuccino made with camel milk. The opulent hotel is worth a visit in itself: it cost around $3 billion USD to construct and is an important Abu Dhabi landmark. If you are really splurging, pick up some gold in the lobby vending machine.

Photo ops in my city include the Corniche and the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. The best vantage points are Heritage Village and The Souk at Qaryat al Beri, respectively (in both spots, you get views from across the water).

If my city were a celebrity it’d be Colin Firth: international, strong and relatively reserved.

The most random thing about my city is the nail salons and spas. They are everywhere, and if you are willing to venture outside your hotel, relatively economical. Women here are especially well groomed.

My city has the most international men and women. While Emirati locals of course play a crucial role in defining the culture and trajectory of the city, most people who live in Abu Dhabi are not from here.

In my city, an active day outdoors involves water sports. Check out the Al Forsan complex for wake boarding and water skiing offerings.

My city’s best museum is yet to come. Abu Dhabi locations of The Louvre and The Guggenheim, as well as an impressive National Museum, are planned for the future.

My favorite jogging/walking route is the Corniche downtown, with views of the Arabian Gulf.

For a night of dancing, go to Allure on Yas Island. Or, for live music, check out the Yas Island Concert Series. Everyone from Guns N’ Roses to Shakira to Janet Jackson to Metallica has performed here.

Maroush is the spot for late-night eats. Shawarma time.

To find out what’s going on at night and on the weekends, read Time Out.

You can tell a lot about my city from a walk downtown. Notice all of the languages and nationalities represented!

You can tell if someone is from my city if they smell wonderful. Perfumes and colognes are a big part of local culture.

Hiking Liwa Dunes (Photo: Jennifer Garcia-Alonso)

In the winter you should play outside! This is when the weather is at its best: water sports, golf, tennis and desert excursions are all perfect winter choices.

In the spring you should see Abu Dhabi from the water. Hire a dhow (traditional wooden boat) for a tour, charter a speedboat to take you to one of the 200 islands off the main island or kayak in the mangroves.

In the summer you should stay inside! Temperatures consistently remain above 105F and the humidity level is quite high.

In the fall you should hit the Formula 1 festivities: the yachts in the Yas Marina, the unbelievable concerts, and of course the races, are all worth seeing.

A hidden gem in my city is India Palace. Another great (and economical) choice for Indian eats.

For a fantastic breakfast try CuiScene at the Fairmont. For about $25 USD you get a full (and I mean full) breakfast buffet. And the restaurant features a lovely terrace to boot. Luxury for less.

Don’t miss the Abu Dhabi Art Fair in November. It brings together contemporary art and design from all over the world.

Just outside my city, you can visit Dubai. It’s about a 60 to 80 minute drive. If you come to the UAE, you get two vacations in one!

With public transportation options at a minimum, the best way to see my city is by car or taxi. The city is increasingly spread out with attractions like Ferrari World amusement park, Yas Marina Circuit (home of the Formula 1), Monte Carlo Beach Club and Saadiyat Beach Golf Club all located a good distance from City Center.

If my city were a pet it would be a bird: small in size but ready to fly.

If I didn’t live in a city, I’d live on the beach somewhere. Warm weather is a big thing for me.

The best book about my city is From Rags to Riches: A Story of Abu Dhabi.

When I think about my city, the song that comes to mind is Movin’ On Up! While growth plans for Abu Dhabi are substantially more conservative than its sibling Dubai, new hotels, malls, office buildings, attractions and high rise apartment buildings (the “deluxe apartment in the sky” bit fits, too!) are quickly appearing and the city has gained critical importance on the world stage.

If you have kids, you won’t want to miss the hotel beach and pool clubs. For example, the Hiltonia Beach Club offers day passes and has child and adult pools, a beach, water sports and restaurants.

National Day celebrations could only happen in my city. Emirati locals and non-locals alike celebrate the young country’s birthday (the UAE just turned 40) with flags, fireworks, special parades and lots of driving and honking horns.

My city should be featured on your cover or website because it is cosmopolitan, international, full of wonderful surprises and growing quickly.

What do you love about Abu Dhabi? Tell us in the comments section below.

Want to see your city on Intelligent Travel? Copy and paste our list of fill-in-the-blank questions into an e-mail, fill in your answers, and send your responses (with any photos, videos or links) to IntelligentTravel@ngs.org.

[Abu Dhabi Guide]

• The Outback isn’t just a great spot for spotting kangaroos. Experience the beauty that Australia’s Northern Territory has to offer. [Matador Network]

• Just in time for Valentine’s Day: Check out these four heart-shaped islands. [LA Times]

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Photo: Kahouli Jawher/My Shot

See photos of where you — or readers like you — went, and get inspired to plan your next trip.

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Chiiori guest house in the Iya Valley of Shikoku

Travel photographer Macduff Everton has been around the world to cover stories for National Geographic Traveler magazine. His most recent assignment took him to the island of Shikoku in Japan for a January/February feature story.  Our photo editor Krista Rossow asked Macduff to tell us more about his experience while photographing the island.

Krista Rossow: You first went to Shikoku as an 18-year-old hitchhiking around the world. Were your impressions different this time around?

Macduff Everton: There’s a world of difference. Japan was much less worldly then — I was the first foreign hitchhiker that many of the Japanese said that they had met. There wasn’t the U.S. influence of McDonald’s, KFC, television, MTV. No one had been to Disneyland. A lot more people worked on farms and lived in the countryside than now. When I went around the world, people talked about culture shock as if it was a symptom that every traveler would come down with, especially upon returning home. You rarely hear that anymore. So I was pleasantly surprised on this trip to discover that traveling around Shikoku was probably closer to my first experience than I expected, especially once I got off the high speed motorways.

KR: You shot with your panoramic camera and a DSLR camera for this assignment. How do you determine which camera to use? Do you have a personal preference?

ME: I think that the panoramic camera is very good for giving a sense of place — it covers what the human eye sees with peripheral vision. But you don’t always need that, and the DSLR camera is best for everything else. As far as my preferred camera, it really depends on what I’m covering.

The geological sandstone coastline near Cape Ashizuri

On the corner of Broome and Crosby in SoHo, a quiet sanctuary celebrates one of India’s spiritual traditions: the Broome Street Hindu Temple. Inside, the community recites the Bhagavad Gita, practices pujas, meditates, connects with the divine. Days after September 11, Eddie Stern opened the temple, which began as a yoga studio the year before. When the Twin Towers fell, it became a refuge to pray for hope amidst the ash-covered streets of lower Manhattan, and it has certainly been a place of transformation for Stern himself.

As a former punk rocker, Stern used to play guitar in three bands, one of them called Losers of a Dying World. Once he began exploring Indian culture, he said his life took a dramatic turn.

“Within a few months of learning about a vegetarian diet, starting to do a little bit of meditation and a little bit of chanting … everything began to change for me,” Stern said. “I felt like I was alive. I could explore and get to know myself in a new way because before I was covering it up.”

Stern has traveled to India around 25 times in his lifetime. He began teaching yoga in 1989. “I didn’t know anything about India at all, but I went and I loved it and I didn’t stop going back,” he said.

And it’s people like Stern who bring elements of India’s culture, history and traditions to the U.S. for others to learn about and enjoy. Here are five ways to experience India in New York City:

1. The Dazzling Dosa: It’s the eye-catching spectacle during a southern Indian meal — the dosa. Crispy, spicy and delicious, this crepe-like staple made of fermented rice or lentil batter will take up nearly half the table. For a classic masala dosa, try the Dosa Hutt in Flushing, Queens or the Jackson Diner in Jackson Heights where a dosa is included in the $12 lunch buffet. For fusion fare, swing by the Hampton Chutney Company in SoHo; their melding of southern Indian and Western flavors really spices things up. The curry chutney chicken, spinach and balsamic-roasted onion dosa is a popular favorite, as is their chai tea.
2. A Little India in Queens: Off the seven train, an eclectic mix of South East Asian culture awaits on 74th Street and Roosevelt Avenue. Primarily dominated by elements of Indian culture, Jackson Heights is also punctuated by communities from Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka. Bollywood music blares, brilliant red and orange saris glimmer in window displays and turban-wearing Sikh men chat in the streets in Punjabi. Stop by the Indian grocery stores Subzi Mandi or Patel Brothers to pick up sugared fennel seeds, fresh naan bread or a chilled mango lassi (the classic Indian drink made of yogurt and tangy mango puree).
3. India’s Hollywood: A fast-action melodrama that dazzles audiences with color and catchy music, Bollywood dancing steals the stage. In Bangalore’s Hollywood, this dance style, usually performed during musical breaks in Bollywood musicals and movies, combines modern techniques with classical Indian dance. Instructor Pooja Narang at Bollywood Axion in Midtown opened one of the first Bollywood dance studios on the East Coast in 2003. Get coached in high-cardio dance moves that will get your heart pumping or try Punjabi-style Bhangra. Other popular studios include Dhoonya Dance and Bollywood Funk NYC Dance School.
4. City in a Curry: If you’re seeking the flavors of India, stroll around Curry Hill in Murray Hill or Curry Row in the East Village where door to door the scent of cumin and coriander teases the nose. The blinking rainbow lights at Panna II Garden on First Avenue beam through the window like the Aurora Borealis. Inside, a chaotic cluster of Christmas lights hangs so low, patrons have to duck their heads to squeeze through the narrow passageway. The experience, prices and food here, however, are a thrill. In Curry Hill, there’s the more modern and spacious Dhaba on Lexington or Chennai Garden on 27th Street with its cone-shaped dosas and Gujarati curries.
5. A Tour of Temples: At most Hindu temples in New York City right now, the sound of saws and chisels as renovations are underway. A new exterior edifice is being carved by hand for the Ganesh Temple in Flushing; the Broome Street Temple is retrofitting its second floor temple to make it more green; and The Radhe-Shyam Temple in the East Village closed and reopened as the Ramakrishnananda Yoga Vedanta Center in Astoria, Queens on 38th Street. During construction, however, services continue. Find your way there to chant, meditate, practice yoga or learn more about Hinduism, the majority religion in India.

Megan Snedden is a curator at Wanderfly. Her work also has appeared in the Huffington Post and Santa Ynez Valley Journal. Connect with her at www.megansnedden.com or on Twitter @megansnedden.

Kerrin Sheldon is the content manager at Wanderfly and he enjoys swimming with sharks and climbing mountains. Catch him at blog.wanderfly.com or on Twitter @kerrinsheldon.

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[French New York]

It was a silly thing to think could be done, I told myself as the second and third person passed me on the steep incline. It was done for the attention – the hiking equivalent of holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa in photos. An online high-five. It shouldn’t be me – it should be the people who passed me, walking sticks in hand, bananas and oranges tucked into their backpacks. These are the people who deserved the title, to tell their friends back home about what they did that day…

Theirs should be the first eyes on Machu Picchu for 2012.

I told myself this the rest of the steep, wet and cold climb the morning of January 1st, talking myself into fake sportsmanship, and out of another depressing morning, which – when you travel by yourself during the holidays – is inevitable. It would have been nice to have been the first person to summit the lost city in the clouds this year, if only to justify all of the lonely evenings spent in late December, traveling alone, sacrificing time that should have been spent with family. To accomplish something that monumental…

But I was worn out.

My shirt was soaked. I didn’t have any walking sticks and barely enough energy to hold myself up, much less the added weight of fruit.

The fourth person passed me and I forced myself up from the rock I was resting on to follow – I refused to be embarrassed by anyone else that morning, especially someone who looked to be at least 20 years older than me. As we rounded the last corner, white light poured in through the trees and I realized we had made it. The five of us rushed up to the unmanned ticket booth and placed our backpacks up against the glass door, proving to any latecomers just who had made it up before them.

It was now 5:50 a.m. The trail began to spit out more hikers, the sounds of the buses were getting closer and closer. With no water or snacks and a shirt full of cold sweat, the realization that, had I been in slightly better shape I would have been the first visitor of 2012, began to aggravate me.

The only unhappy person in line to see Machu Picchu – and it was me.

A few minutes later, the ticket-takers came out of their office and began plugging in their little scanners to the computers. A security guard came out and unlocked the glass doors, telling us to wait. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the hands of the ticket-takers went up, motioning for us to come through. I reluctantly gave the four in front of me the universal head tilt of Go ahead, but they didn’t move. “We’re waiting on our guide,” came the response in an annoyed German accent. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The four people in front of me were no longer in front of me.

There was no one in front of me.

I was now the first person in line.

I bolted to the turnstile, throwing my passport and ticket at the poor girl behind the computer. Others were beginning to line up to my left, doing the same thing. I had – at most – a 15-second head start on them …

A hand holding my passport and stamped ticket broke my concentration. I grabbed them, pushed my way through the guides and security guards and flew down the path and around the bend, where the first eerie silhouettes of this famed city began to take shape. The arrows told me to go straight, then to the right, but there was also a tiny path that went up into the woods. Making a split-second decision, I took the latter, running up the stairs with borrowed energy. It zigzagged up the hill into a timbered area. At the end of the path I saw nothing but sky. Not knowing the layout of Machu Picchu, I was worried that I might have ended up on the other side of the mountain, but again – there was no time to do anything but run.

Ten seconds into this final path and shapes began to form in the clouds.

The large peak of Wayna Picchu took shape, as did the ancient city below it.

My panting went from loud exhales to staggered chokes.

I walked out onto the overlook and down onto the city.

Ten-plus years of travel, forty-plus countries, countless marvels, but this is the only place I cried at seeing.

One photo was snapped from my phone — those four seconds were the maximum amount of time I wanted to take my eyes off of it.

For 30 seconds, I sat in silence – not even realizing what I had just done.

It took the sound of footsteps behind me to bring everything back to the present. And it took the sounds of voices to realize that when I had first gotten up – there were none.

An estimated 1.2 million people this year, and I was visitor no. 0,000,000,001.

Through a stroke of luck – a guide who was only a few minutes late – I had been the first person up on Machu Picchu in 2012. And for half a minute, it was all mine – shared only with the morning fog and a pack of llamas.

But something funny happened on the walk back down to the town – my thought process changed. I suddenly couldn’t wait to tell people what it was like, but not for the bragging rights.

The reason I wanted to tell the story, to share the video, to draw on people’s maps, was so that in 2013, it might be their name above mine on that non-existent list.

The one with 101 names to date, since its discovery in 1911.

It’s the list of people who were first up each year …

It’s the one without the high-fives.

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