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National Geographic
9 hours ago
- National Geographic
From caves to coral reefs, this is how you can discover the wild side of Turks & Caicos
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). Grace Bay sand is predominantly made of parrotfish poop,' states Alizée Zimmerman, executive director of the Turks & Caicos Reef Fund (TCRF), without so much as a smirk. I blink, momentarily taken aback. I'd always assumed sandy beaches were created by the erosion of coral and shells, but here in Turks & Caicos, much of that soft, sugar-white sand has apparently passed through the digestive tract of a fish before settling on the shore. It's an unexpected introduction to this British overseas territory — a scattering of 40 low-lying coral islands and cays south east of the Bahamas. Best known for its white-sand beaches, kaleidoscopic reefs and luxury resorts, Turks & Caicos offers the sort of barefoot glamour that draws honeymooners, divers and escapists alike. But beneath the surface lies a more complex reality — one of fragile ecosystems and quiet urgency — and at the TCRF's coral restoration facility on Providenciales, I begin to see just how intricate and imperilled this underwater world really is. One parrotfish can produce hundreds of pounds of sand a year by munching on coral and excreting it. Photograph by Damocean, Getty Images The parrotfish 'poop' is just one of many surprising truths that I uncover during my guided tour of the lab, where tanks of thriving coral colonies line the walls like a living archive. Here, nursery specimens of coral types including staghorn, star and brain grow and feed, each contributing to research and repopulation efforts across the islands' damaged reefs. I watch each of them closely: one has green polyps that stretch out like tiny tentacles, grasping for food; another, flat and round, lies still, waiting for chance morsels to drift its way. 'Can you tell me — is a coral an animal, plant or mineral?' Alizée asks. My group comes up with various answers, before she reveals that it's actually all three. The more I learn, the more I marvel. We're taught that corals are carnivorous, related to jellyfish and anemones, but they also host algae in their tissues, which photosynthesises to provide food. In just a single tank, the corals range in hue from terracotta to moss green, pale yellow to rich brown. Some plain, others vibrant, but all pulsing with life. Across from the tanks, however, sits a sobering contrast: a coral graveyard. Here, skeletal remains of once-living colonies, including the antlers of a staghorn and the concentric ridges of a great star, lie stripped of colour and life, the brittle white aftermath of something that once thrived. Initially, I assume they're victims of climate change, another casualty of rising sea temperatures. But Alizée introduces another culprit: stony coral tissue loss disease, an aggressive affliction that's affected more than 60% of Turks & Caicos's reefs in recent years. First identified in the Atlantic in 2014, the disease's origin remains uncertain, though it's widely suspected to have stemmed from dredging off the coast of Miami. 'We started seeing massive tissue loss, as if someone had poured acid over the reef,' Alizée tell us bleakly. 'No coral can come back from that.' In response, the TCRF has given large amounts of time, energy and resources into treating sections of reef with antibiotics in a race to curb the disease's spread. It's painstaking, urgent work, a frontline defence against a crisis that many visitors to these islands never see. Travellers can volunteer with the TCRF by joining the dive team to help clean the ladders used to grow endangered staghorn coral. Photograph by Illeana Ravasio, TCRF There are, however, ways in which visitors can get involved in helping to preserve this delicate ecosystem. 'As a small, non-governmental organisation, we currently don't have the capacity to offer regular, scheduled volunteer programmes,' Alizée explains. 'However, travellers can reach out via email or complete the form on our website to get involved. It can vary week to week, but travellers can assist us by preparing materials for moorings, or even by joining the dive team. A visit to our coral lab is a must, and on Wednesday afternoons, we feed all the corals.' Later that evening, back at Wymara Resort and Villas on Grace Bay, I find myself reflecting on the quiet determination of those working to protect the reefs. I order the chargrilled piri-piri cauliflower steak, which, I'm told, isn't just a house favourite, but a dish with purpose. 'As part of the hotel's commitment to conservation, a percentage of the restaurant's proceeds from this dish support the TCRF,' my waitress tells me, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. It feels good to know that simply by choosing to eat here, I'm also making a small contribution to the conservation of the reefs. Island escapes The following morning, I board a ferry that slips across the glassy waters of the Bellefield Channel towards North and Middle Caicos — quieter isles that promise the ultimate luxury: escapism. As we draw closer to land, the waves begin to rise in a whisper, reflecting diamonds of sunlight back to their source. I've signed up for a guided tour of the islands with the National Trust, an organisation that plays a crucial role in conservation here, as well as preserving and promoting the area's rich cultural heritage. Starting in North Caicos, our car winds through pockets of wild greenery before crossing the causeway that links to Middle Caicos, where we're greeted by the white-sand bay of Mudjin Harbour. Curving along the northern coast, this beach marks the beginning of our hike. We climb the headland, aching legs and sweaty brows rewarded with sweeping views of the Atlantic, where white-crested waves rise and break in bursts on the sands below. From there, we walk in single file to steps carved into the cliffside, following them through layers of sun-warmed rock until they open out onto a secluded cove. Sunlight streams in from one side, casting golden rays across the sand in angular streaks. It's a moment of stillness, an encounter with nature's quiet drama. I pause, breathing in air laced with salt, grateful for these hidden corners that you only find when you seek them out. Turning away from the ocean, we press inland. Our next stop is the Conch Bar Caves, the largest above-ground cave system in the Lucayan Archipelago (which comprises the Bahamas and Turks & Caicos), and a 15-mile labyrinth of twisting tunnels and echoing chambers. The air is thick with heat, but inside, the caves offer cool relief. Stalactites reach down like icicles, meeting their counterparts rising from the ground, and in one chamber — known as the 'nine brothers' — the formations are so symmetrical they look man-made, resembling the ruins of a forgotten city. Conch Bar Caves holds significant human history, spanning from the pre-Columbian era to more recent colonial times. Photograph by Matt Anderson, Getty Images 'This limestone cavern was once submerged under the sea. These holes in the ceiling are where the water eroded the rock over time,' explains our guide, Eddie Smith, his enthusiasm evident as he shares the story of the caves.'The Lucayans were the island's original inhabitants,' he continues, 'and if you follow these passages far enough, you can still see evidence of religious ceremonies they held here more than 500 years ago. More recently, families would shelter in here during hurricanes, but today the whole area is protected by the National Trust.' A scurry of cockroaches flees the beam of Eddie's torch as we head further into the gloom. Then, high above us, I notice a cluster of small black shapes hanging by their feet. 'That would be the bats,' he grins at me. 'Four species live here and there are more than 3,000 in this cave. You should see it when they all leave to feed. The sky turns black, like a living storm cloud. It's an incredible sight.' Bats are crucial not only to the cave's environment, but in maintaining nature's delicate balance across the entire island. They play a key role in pollination, while their dung feeds the multitude of insects that call this otherworldly place home. This particular poo, I discover, doesn't end up on the island's beaches, although what's now a bug banquet was an important source of income for locals in the 19th century, before tourism reached Turks & Caicos's shores. Islanders harvested and exported it as far as Europe to be used as fertiliser, a trade that collapsed when chemicals took its place. I'm still contemplating the intricate interlacing of all these ecosystems; how everything — and everyone — has a part to play, when we leave the subterranean chamber, blinking in the harsh afternoon sunlight. Our final stop is Bambarra Beach on the north coast of Middle Caicos and recently named one of the best beaches in the Caribbean. True to the accolade, it's a fine stretch of alabaster sand with no crowds and crystalline waters. I notice a collection of coastal treasures — coral fragments, sea fans and shells — arranged on a weathered bench, like an altar to the ocean. Each piece, I realise, is a small remnant of a once-living reef, a quiet reminder of both the beauty and fragility of life. They speak to what's at stake if these habitats aren't protected. I capture them in a photograph and leave them undisturbed, allowing them to return to the sea from which they came. Perhaps, over time, they'll erode into fine sand, contributing to the beaches we walk upon — along with that parrotfish poop, of course. Three more nature hotspots 1. Flamingo Pond Overlook, North Caicos Situated just off King's Road near Whitby on the north coast of North Caicos, this National Trust site allows travellers to witness a flamboyance of West Indian flamingos wading through glistening wetlands. Admission is free, binoculars cost $2 (£1.45) to rent and the spectacle unfolds daily from 11am to 3.30pm. 2. Little Water Cay, aka Iguana Island Home to the rare Turks & Caicos rock iguana, Little Water Cay is a conservation success story. Boardwalks wind through scrubland and mangroves, where guides explain how reintroduction efforts and feral-cat eradication have helped the iguanas rebound. Entry fees are $10 (£7.50) and support preservation work. 3. Bird Rock Point Trail, Providenciales On the eastern tip of Providenciales, this mile-long trail winds through one of the island's last remaining tracts of coastal coppice woodland. Along the way, it skirts rocky headlands, mangroves and secluded sandy coves — natural habitats that offer refuge for native birds and juvenile fish. Inspiring Travel offers seven nights in Turks & Caicos from £3,159 per person, based on two sharing a Garden Studio at Wymara Resort and Villas on Providenciales. This includes breakfast, flights and internal transfers. Alternatively, Beaches Turks & Caicos is set on Grace Bay, Providenciales, and offers an all-inclusive family-friendly trip with land and watersports and 21 dining options. Prices start at £7,430 for seven nights for two adults and two children, and return flights. For more on conservation, visit TCRF or Turks & Caicos National Trust. Published in the Caribbean Collection 2025 by National Geographic Traveller (UK). To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
Boston Globe
a day ago
- Boston Globe
Six days in Amsterdam: clogs, cheese, and the ‘bicycle mafia'
And, it turns out, Amsterdam is in the middle of a massive, yearlong celebration of its 750th anniversary — including music, culture and sport events, literal parties in the streets — culminating on October 27. Now this was more like it. Graham booked the room and our flights (direct from Logan to Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, a six-hour overnight on JetBlue; fares start around $500), and I set out to plan the rest of our six-night stay. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Advertisement On a warm June day, we land around noon. In the airport, murals boast that 'Amsterdam has more bikes than people.' I soon realize that is truth in advertising: While no cyclists are actually harmed on our ride to the hotel, there are more than a few close calls. 'The bicycle mafia,' the cabdriver calls them. Graham has chosen Advertisement The tall, narrow hotel has no elevators, like most of the older buildings in Amsterdam. Instead, it's filled with flights of steep stairs — akin to a boat ladder leading to a galley. It sits on a street packed with souvenir shops, cafes, coffee shops (here, these sell marijuana; find your caffeine high elsewhere), and food of all kinds. City blocks follow a grid of canals, and burst with people and activity. And, of course, bikes. Seating for the cocktail bar at Rosalia's Menagerie. Handout Armed with my notes, we head out. We walk most places, but options abound, from Ubers, taxis, and bike rentals to public trains, buses, and trams — even canal boats and rickshaws. We head to After, we stop for a freshly-made, milk chocolate-drizzled waffle. It is, in one word, amazing. That night, we walk through the Red Light District, which is in the same neighborhood as our hotel. To say Amsterdam has a different attitude toward what is taboo than in the United States would be an understatement, and it's all on display here: window brothels (women stand in lighted windows, advertising their services), sex shops and clubs, and live erotic entertainment venues. Advertisement Though it hasn't gotten dark yet — the sun doesn't set till around 10 p.m. in the summer — the area is already filled with people. More than 14 million tourists visited just last year. Back at the hotel, we fall asleep to the sounds of drunk British tourists singing football chants in the street. Windmills in Zaanse Schans. Handout The next morning, we board a bus to the countryside for an excursion booked through Viator to the historic, working village of After watching a traditional shoe-making demonstration — and snapping a photo of Graham and me inside a giant clog — at Three generations of clogmakers at Kooijman Souvenirs & Clogs Wooden Shoe Workshop. Handout Last stop on the tour is the Advertisement Back in the city, lunch is at Passengers on the journey to Vuurtoreneiland. Neils Stomps That night we head to Today, the restaurant, along with its six overnight cottages, is known for its natural beauty and commitment to sustainability; local products are highlighted and water, brought in daily, is used as efficiently as possible. An aerial view of Vuurtoreneiland. Niels Stomps The multicourse, chef-chosen menu starts with appetizers served on the boat. About a dozen couples are aboard, and when we get closer to shore, Jonathan Petri, the general manager, tells us the history of the island. The restaurant is breathtaking — the boat docks to reveal a glistening-glass greenhouse just feet from the water, tucked into the remnants of the fort and accessible by a walking trail through the island's flora. Once settled in, we can quickly see why the restaurant is fully booked three months in advance: This is more that just a meal — it's an experience. Advertisement Vuurtoreneiland restaurant features a multicourse, chef-chosen menu. Annelore On our third day, we happen upon Being late June, we have missed the legendary Holland tulip season, but head next to Our next stop combines both. Brouwerij't IJ is a craft brewery next to a windmill. It features a lively beer garden. Handout That night brings a sunset boat cruise, with the Advertisement We finish the night with a stop for drinks at On Day 4, we plan to relax a bit, stopping at an outdoor market for picnic supplies before taking an Uber to The zoo is immersive, with exhibits built to make you feel that you are in the animals' environment, not the other way around. It also hosts a butterfly pavilion, planetarium shows (the one tourist activity we encounter that is in Dutch only), a botanical garden, and an aquarium that is being updated during our visit. An algazel at ARTIS Zoo. Ronald van Weeren After a quick snack of french fries in a cone — it's a thing in Amsterdam — we head to the Outside De Hallen, a former tram station that has been turned into a food hall. De Hallen Amsterdam By our penultimate day, we have two must-do stops left. We finish out the day at Our last full day brings a highlight of the trip: Back at home, the bottle of Hansje In De Kelder liqueur sits on my kitchen counter, waiting to be shared, a reminder that in Amsterdam, there's a little something for everyone. Henri Willig Cheese at Catharina Hoeve Cheese Farm. Mike Bink fotografie Carrie Simonelli can be reached at
Yahoo
a day ago
- Yahoo
Do big gigs alter economies? What the Oasis tour reveals about how we spend
When Oasis returned to British stadiums this summer, hotel prices around venues jumped and flights filled fast. Commentators predicted that economic figures could show an 'Oasis bump' – and indeed, air fares were the biggest driver of July's inflation rise to 3.8% from 3.6% in June. The idea is simple: a sudden wave of visitors meets fixed capacity, so prices rise. But, in truth, the more useful story is what this says about how people choose to spend, and how we should read one noisy month in the data. Start with the mechanics. The UK consumer prices index is a weighted basket. Most of this 'shopping basket' of things we all spend our money on – which includes things such as food, clothing and housing – moves slowly. A few small categories, such as accommodation and air travel, move a lot from month to month because they are priced in the month people travel. Schedule a stadium show on a weekend during the school holidays and you get a tidy, temporary lift in those sub-indices. That can nudge the national figure for a month before easing back when the calendar quietens. What did people actually spend? Industry and banking estimates suggest the Oasis tour drove very large ancillary outlays. Barclays anticipated total spend across the 17 UK dates would be roughly £1 billion, with an average around £766 per fan once tickets, travel, accommodation, food and drink, and merchandise are included. In other words, most of the economic footprint sits in event tourism and hospitality rather than in the ticket itself. That is exactly where we see price spikes around concert weekends. Do fans simply pay whatever it costs? Not quite. People do 'pay up' for the event and associated expenses on the day, but most do not treat this as an impulse purchase. The pattern described in recent spending surveys and analyses is one of ring-fencing. Plan months ahead, set a budget, book early to manage risk and trim lower-priority items before and after the trip. Think of it less as a night out and more as a short break. Three ideas help explain why this pattern holds. First, the economics of a rare event: stadium capacity is fixed and for dedicated fans a reunion is not easily substituted. So demand is less sensitive to price in the short term. That encourages dynamic pricing and a lively resale market, which can push some seat prices well above face value. Second, the 'experience economy': many consumers now prioritise shared, memorable experiences over goods, and say they are willing to spend more for them. Third, nostalgia: reviews framed these shows as a return to a formative time for many of the band's fans from the first time around. Research on nostalgia and consumer choice suggests that nostalgia can lower how sensitive consumers are to prices because the purchase is tied to identity and memory, not just entertainment. Demographics matter too. Oasis's core audience is now mostly middle-aged: generation X and older millennials. They are in peak earning years, value convenience, and tend to bundle spend on travel, accommodation and eating out around a big night. That mix increases certainty for venues and host cities, and it flattens the demand curve around the event itself. The result is a bigger, more predictable local footprint during the tour window, followed by a return to normal once the tour moves on. Keep perspective There are tensions though. Dynamic pricing can help artists capture value that would otherwise leak to resellers, yet it risks alienating fans if it feels opaque or unfair. For host cities, the main effect is indirect. When shows sell out, pricing mostly changes who attends and when they book. Higher face values tilt audiences toward out-of-town, higher-spending fans, which pushes up hotel demand and average room rates, as well as lifting food and drink takings near venues. Earlier ticket sales also let hotels set higher prices further in advance. Only if pricing deters enough buyers to shift the mix toward day-trippers – or leaves seats unsold – do you tend to see a smaller spike in accommodation and travel prices. And we should be careful with 'impact' headlines. Economic development researchers have long warned that some event-impact studies overstate benefits by ignoring substitution – money that would have been spent locally anyway – or by using multipliers that are too generous. Even so, two features strengthen the case that large tours leave a visible mark. Many attendees travel from outside the host city, bringing in genuinely new money. And the price spikes in accommodation and air travel during event weekends are real enough to show up in the monthly statistics, even if only briefly. So how should we read these statistics? Keep perspective. One month of higher services inflation such as air fares can reflect the calendar more than a change in underlying momentum. The data often show a partial 'payback' in the following month as prices normalise. For cities and businesses, the lesson is practical. Tours are scheduled long in advance. Planning for transport, staffing and clear pricing helps visitors spend well without overwhelming residents. And for consumers, the advice is simple. If a special event matters to you, treat it like any other big purchase. Set a budget early, book with a plan and decide in advance what you will trim before or after. The evidence suggests most fans already do just that. Will a reunion tour change the path of inflation? No. Will it show up as a blip for a month? Quite possibly. The deeper lesson is about how culture and money meet in 2025. Shared experiences carry a premium because people judge them to be 'worth it' and plan around them. That is not reckless spending. It is the experience economy at work. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article. Marcel Lukas is a fellow of the ONS Economic Expert Working Group. He received funding from the British Academy, UKRI and Interface in the past. Marcel Lukas is Vice-Dean of Executive Education at the University of St Andrews. All opinions expressed are solely his own and do not express the views or opinions of his employers or the ONS. Error in retrieving data Sign in to access your portfolio Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data Error in retrieving data
