Religious resort town visited by many tourists, perhaps is Lumbini, birthplace of Gautama Buddha. For Buddhists, Lumbini became one of the places you should not miss during a visit to India. The reason, according to the historical Buddha Gautama was born into the royal family in the year 556 BC in Lumbini, Nepal near India borders.

It is said that Gautama Buddha’s birth was followed by the emergence of signs such as growth of the tree. By King Ashoka, the ruler of the Buddhist period, established a stupa and a pillar to commemorate the Buddha Gautama. Construction of King Ashoka stupa made ​​after visiting the birthplace of Buddha’s two centuries later. Although the current state of the stupa in ruins, but did not dampen the tourists to remember.

Another place that is not less interesting is the Bodhgaya. That said, this is where Gautama Buddha reach perfection after doing penance under a Bodhi tree at the age of 29 years. In this city there is also the Mahabodhi Temple was built in the 3rd century by Emperor Ashoka. Others said the temple was built between the 5th century and the 7th.

The next place that you could spent your Holidays for singles is Samath, India Ganges River valley, where the Buddha taught the faith and all aspects Budhaan. Another shrine is visited by many Shravasti. In this city the Buddha do many great miracles. Another important city Sankashaya. According to Buddhist belief, Gautama Buddha is believed descended from Tushita heaven. The city is the only Buddhist shrine that does not have a temple or monastery.

Nalanda also become an important pilgrimage site. Not because it is blessed with the presence of the Buddha, but because of the university’s famous monastery, Rajgir also has its own charm, the Buddha had to come and teach.

Important events of Buddha’s arrival to Rajgir was when the Buddha passed two of his disciples, Shariputra and Maudgalyayana. That said, Sariputra was awarded the extraordinary intelligence. While Maudgalyayana power to perform miracles. Kushinagar is also the center of attention, especially Buddhist tourists who visit India. Because, this is where Gautama Buddha reach all-contemplation.

Inland, the hills rise up and greet the sun, patched with golden fields of grain, vibrant citrus orchards, and the vineyards that produce Sicily’s fragrant nero d’avola wines. The skies are blue, the weather is warm, and somewhere, a few steps down a narrow street, someone is rolling fresh pasta to tempt you back from the shore.

There’s no mistaking Sicily for part of mainland Italy. Though Sicily has been officially part of Italy for nearly 150 years, it has also been ruled in turn by Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and Normans, and the island has kept the flavors of each passing wave of conquerors. Only a few blocks beyond the monuments to Vittorio Emanuele II outside the train station in Palermo are palaces and churches with the domes, mosaics, and geometric loveliness of medieval Arab architecture.

Baroque details line graceful, decaying buildings that shade sprawling markets and tanned children playing soccer in the streets. Most visitors come to Sicily for the weather: the climate is warm year-round, and in the summer months the sunshine is constant and temperatures hover around 86 degrees Fahrenheit. But in Sicily, history, culture, and natural wonders are layered on so thick that the trouble is in choosing the adventure, not finding it.

One adventure worth having, though, is a voyage to the Aeolian Islands off the north coast. The ancient Greeks and Romans called these islands the home of the winds, and their breezes offer some relief from the constant beat of the sun. One boasts the forge of the fire god himself: Vulcano, a volcanic island reachable by ferry or hydrofoil with sulfur baths and dark umber beaches.

Here, the intrepid and long-winded can climb to the top of the sleeping volcano that spewed forth much of the island and peer into the crater once said to be the entrance to Hades. Though it hasn’t erupted in a century, Vulcano’s main crater is far from extinct, its peak smoking with sulfur from multiple exhaust holes and the giant divot of its mouth still muddy-looking and dangerous.

The rock that surrounds the crater is as brittle and sharp as ceramic. Signs warn that hikers should spend no more than a few minutes at the top, lest the fumes intoxicate or poison them. Still, with the wind blowing freely on the sweat spent making it up, the feeling and the view are well worth the scorching hour-long climb.

While the ancient Greeks assigned their gods’ homes on the outer islands, though, they worshiped them on Sicily itself. And after experiencing Vulcano’s primordial power, you can remind yourself of the force of human culture in the Valley of the Temples in Agrigento. Here a complex of Greek temples was hewn from the native red sandstone and erected on a ridge overlooking the countryside, with the hazy cerulean smudge of the Mediterranean visible below the swell of the fields. Modern Agrigento rises to one side, and majestic sandstone forms cascade down the slope, linked by a pale road the Romans called the Sacred Way.

Each temple has its own appeal. The temple to Hera offers the best view and perhaps the most picturesque profile, perched atop the high point on the temples’ ridge. The sanctuary to Concordia is nearly intact despite the twenty-odd centuries since its construction, and dark shadows hide its inner depths even at the height of the day.

The temple of Zeus, meanwhile, is massive and almost completely destroyed, its ruins now poetically crumbling courtyards and staircases among the aloes and olive trees. The temple of Heracles demands humility, one row of its massive columns still standing and each one three times as wide around as the arm span of the average man. Together, the complex inspires awe—after two millennia, its structures are not only standing, but ethereally beautiful and seemingly indestructible.

Sicily’s mysteries are too many and too varied to explore in one short trip. But like the striking beauty of the island itself and the cultural marks so many have made on it, the memory of them will surely endure.
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The falls’ indigenous name, Mosi-oa-Tunya, means “the smoke that thunders”. And indeed, it roars, it throws up spray, it crashes and it swirls – Victoria Falls is an overwhelming sight, twice the height of Niagara Falls. So spectacular, in fact, that it already was a popular tourist attraction in 1905, when the railway from then-Rhodesia to Cape Town was completed under British colonial rule. Now a World Heritage Site, Victoria Falls attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors every year, some content to simply take in the natural wonder, others, like me, daring (or brainless) enough to bungee jump over the gorges, too.

While in Zambia on a work assignment, I took the first opportunity to escape from the dreary capital, Lusaka, and visit Victoria Falls, which are a six-hour bus ride away through flat, dry savannah. In fact, African public transportation schedules being what they are (“when it is full o’clock” is as close as it gets to a departure time), it took me and my friend Leila most of our Saturday to reach the characterless town of Livingstone, then the park.

We first heard the low rumble. Then we came across the life-size statue of David Livingstone, the Scottish explorer of Doctor-Livingstone-I-presume fame. As the first European to have seen the falls in the mid-19th century, he named them in honor of his monarch, Queen Victoria. A little further down the path, we caught our first glimpse of the cataracts. Stretching as far as the eye could see, curtains of furious white water tumbled down, divided by the rocks jutting from the crest of the falls. A massive cloud of spray rose from the gorge, hiding the depths of the chasm.

As we walked down the path that paralleled the falls and led to a narrow footbridge spanning the gorge, we noticed that all the people coming in our direction were soaked. Continuing beneath the protection of the trees, we began to feel fine drops, which, once on the bridge, turned into a literal upside-down rain, so thick was the spray. “Hence the clever stand renting out raincoats back there!” shouted Leila, as she started to run towards the other end. But the sun playing on the drizzle had created a beautiful rainbow, a sharp circle leaping over the walkway and plunging into the gorge. Later, as the sun descended over the far side of the falls, the light turned the haze into a golden cloud.

The next day, we made our way to the bungee jumping center on Victoria Bridge, which spans the second gorge a few hundred meters downstream, linking Zambia with Zimbabwe. As we reached the entrance, 120 meters above the rocks and rapids of the Zambezi way below, my knees went weak. How could my so-called friend have talked me into hurling myself off that bridge?

Feeling hollow inside, I trudged to the jumping platform, amid the traffic of indifferent African women carrying bundles on their heads. As the instructors strapped my gear on, they directed a steady stream of chatter at their (idiotically consenting) “victim”, to distract me from what was coming. I had picked the gorge swing, so I was to step off the structure, not drop headfirst. “Look straight ahead, not down, and when we count to three, just walk,” they told me.

One-two-three, the solid ground underfoot gone, a startled cry of surprise, a few endless, terrifying seconds of free fall, then I was swinging silently in the peaceful morning air, suspended alone above boiling green waters, far from the crowds of onlookers way above. Once I had been hoisted back onto the bridge, I felt relieved to have gone first.

My friend was almost in tears as the instructors gently pushed her into the void. She screamed all the way down. Bounced up. Fell again, still screaming. Later, she swore that she would “never again” perform such a jump, but it was too late – we had both earned our bragging rights in one of the world’s most amazing natural sites.

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It’s not accidental that this small town feels like the Alps, and there is no more visible symbol of this than the Trapp Family Lodge. The Austrian inspired lodge and resort is operated by actual members of the Von Trapp family, whose story was told in the Sound of Music. The main lodge is right out of the Tyrol, with dark woods and balconies lined with bright red and white flower boxes. This theme is carried on by a number of other lodges (Northern Lights Lodge, Innsbruck Inn), and private residences around town.

While you will rarely encounter hikers in Lederhosen, there are outdoor activities of all kinds including miles of trails at the Trapp Lodge and Stowe Mountain Resort Touring Centers, Wiessner Woods and the Long Trail, all of which are free off season (and off-leash dog friendly). There is also a scenic greenway and paved bike path that winds lazily for five and a half miles from the village center, crisscrossing the road and river leading to Mount Mansfield past shops, restaurants and a pub or two. Make sure to stop at the Shed Brewery for a local brew on the patio overlooking the path…if you’re lucky they may have their Weizen beer on tap.

Alongside the pubs, Stowe is dotted with excellent chef-owned restaurants specializing in regional and seasonal fare, often using local ingredients. A few offer Austrian and German dishes, and the most authentic of these is an unassuming (and unadvertised) place called the Alpenhaus, where chatty owner André Noel will greet you, inquire as to whether you have a reservation, and regardless of your answer, lead you to an almost always empty dining room.

Despite the lack of crowds, the dinner menu is authentic and extensive, with everything made extremely well from the highest quality regional products. The dishes include a whole page of Schnitzels, potatoes in pancake, dumpling and soup forms, and quite a few vegetarian options, including one of my all time favorites, Kaesespaetzle, a decadent macaroni and cheese made with top notch New York Emmenthaler. Attached is the Vienna Tea Room serving lunch and decadent pastries that are seriously worthy of Stephensplatz.

The Trapp Lodge also offers an Austrian Tea Room with a variety of Wursts, baked goods and desserts, while their Dining Room provides a more formal setting with a few German inspired dishes including an excellent mushroom strudel in a fresh herb cream sauce with cranberries. In the center of the village, comprised of a couple blocks of storefronts and restaurants is a Swiss restaurant called the Swisspot offering all kinds of wonderful fondue and European dishes.

In all, Stowe offers beautiful alpine scenery, a plethora of outdoor activities no matter what time of year, and for those of us who are in love with Germania, an authentic experience like none other I have seen in the United States.

The Norwegian Automobile Federation offers 268 camp sites and additionally there are about one thousand other camp and cabin sites as well as parking lots for caravans and recreation vehicles throughout the country and its fifteen national parks. Due to the Norwegian allemannsretten (everybody’s right), you may also park your car somewhere beside the road for just one night, which makes it easy to follow Norway’s national roads and enjoy the quiet lakes, dense woods, gentle hills, steep mountains, roaring waterfalls, sparkling glaciers and narrow fjords alongside.

While the Vikings, who had discovered Newfoundland in the “new world” long before Columbus explored the Caribbean Sea, once conquered foreign lands with their longships and terrified their southern neighbors, the descendants have become quiet and unassuming, open and hospitable to foreign guests. Blessed with the Gulf Stream, North Sea oil, and plenty of energy produced by hydroelectric power stations, the 4.7 million inhabitants enjoy one of the highest living standards in the world.

Coming from Oslo, we headed southwest for the region of Telemark, the home of skiing. In the town of Skien, we followed the Telemark Canal, which was the “Eighth Wonder of the World” and the most spectacular waterway of Europe in the 1890s. It took five years to build it and was designed to raft wood from the north of Telemark down to the seaports of Skagerrak, where the Baltic Sea meets the North Sea. Eighteen still original, hand-operated locks in eight places level out a difference of 236 feet in altitude between Skien at the south-east end of Lake Norsjoe and the town of Dalen, 65 miles further west at the end of Lake Bandak. Today, you can sail or paddle up and down the canal in the summer months or go for a comfortable, nostalgic boat trip.

“The world’s highest waterfall, I have discovered at Rjukan in Telemark.” geology professor Jens Esmark reported back to his king in Copenhagen in 1810. Well, this was a slight exaggeration, as the waters plunge only 340 feet down into the valley of Vestfjorddalen. However, the sentence made Rjukan the cradle of tourism and the first vacation resort in Norway. Visitors from all over Europe came in the summer months and checked into the hotel of Vemork or booked Norway’s first tourist cabin on Krokan farm above the thundering waters of the fall. Artists came to paint the waterfall and scenery below the cone of Gaustatoppen that towers majestically over the town. With an altitude of 6,178 feet above sea level, it is one of the highest and most beautiful mountains of the region. About thirty thousand people make the trip up to the summit every year to enjoy the fantastic view down into the valley and over the foothills of Hardangervidda that offer plenty of opportunities for hiking and cycling.

At the entrance of Rjukan’s Tinn Museum, troll faces (queer-looking giants and dwarves from the Norwegian woods) greet the visitor, and old farm houses and barns show the history of house building from medieval times to the end of the 19th century. Textiles, old prints, paintings and wood carvings represent the art and traditions of the farmers who once settled in this valley before bold scientists and entrepreneurs discovered the place and started to produce energy from the power of its waters.

A winding road brings you up to the mountains in the south, and a narrow fjellveien (mountain road) leads up to 4,134 feet and over one of the highest passes of Norway. Via the places of Tuddal and Sauland, it isn’t far to Heddal, where you can visit the biggest and best preserved stave church of Norway. Built without any nails and steel parts, the wooden building is an architectural masterpiece of the early Middle Ages. Still being the parish church of Heddal, its doors are open to tourists during the summer season.

If we had known about the annual blues festival in Notodden that takes place in early August, we would have changed our itinerary. However, we went further west to see the fjords at the country’s North Sea coast and the pulpit rock of Preikestolen, which is one of the most visited natural sights in the south of Norway. The 2.5-mile-long foot path from the parking lot took us two hours and 1,100 feet up to the mountains and the famous cliff, which juts out over the Lysefjord that lies 1,980 feet under your feet. Meandering 25 miles into the interior of the country, it ends at Lysebotn, where the cliff of Kjerag rises 3,555 feet vertically into the sky.

Next time we are going to explore Sognefjord (with 126 miles the longest fjord of Norway) and I hope for better weather conditions when we go on hikes in the national park of Jostedalspreen, the biggest glacier in Europe.