Walk into three different bars in Tokyo, and you may have three completely different experiences: one bar thick with cigarette smoke, one with a sealed glass smoking room humming in the corner, and one entirely smoke-free.

Within regulatory boundaries, the choice often lies with both the owner and the customer: Proprietors decide what kind of space they want to run, and patrons decide which environment they prefer. Compare that to much of the United States, where indoor smoking is broadly prohibited by state or local law. Roughly 82.4 percent of Americans are covered by 100 percent smoke-free rules in workplaces, restaurants, and bars, largely removing the decision from the marketplace.

Like many other countries, Japan regulates smoking heavily. The 2020 revision of the Health Promotion Act introduced major restrictions on indoor smoking in public places such as parks, government buildings, hospitals, and most workplaces.

In many Japanese cities, smoking on the street is restricted as well. You can’t simply light a cigarette while standing outside or walking down the sidewalk. Instead, smokers must seek out designated areas—small smoking stations separated by glass or plastic partitions and equipped with ashtrays. Lighting up outside these areas can lead to fines of up to 300,000 yen ($1,890).

At first glance, Japan’s system might appear stricter than the rules in the U.S., where indoor smoking is banned but outdoor smoking is generally tolerated. But Japan’s laws leave surprising room for flexibility, especially inside private venues such as bars and restaurants.

Article 25 of the Health Promotion Act does not simply mandate that every public place be entirely smoke-free. Instead, it encourages businesses to take “appropriate passive smoking prevention measures.” In practice, this leaves room for several exceptions.

One of the most significant is the small-business exception. Restaurants and bars with a floor space of 100 square meters or less—the size of many neighborhood bars in Tokyo—can allow indoor smoking as long as they post a sign at the entrance indicating that smoking is permitted. Small businesses with no employees also can allow smoking.

That matters because small, owner-operated establishments are very common in Japan. Many bars consist of a counter, a handful of stools, and a single person running the entire operation. For some of these venues, the ability to smoke while drinking or eating is part of their appeal.

“I personally don’t like smoking inside, but at our bar there are definitely customers who see smoking at the counter as an essential part of the bar experience,” says Keith Tanaka, who runs a bar in Roppongi. “At the same time, we know that other guests are uncomfortable with smoke, so finding the right balance is never easy.”

Since “smoking on the street is also restricted,” Tanaka adds, customers who cannot smoke inside “often have to leave for a small designated smoking area, which can lower satisfaction and break the flow of the experience. In practice, we do everything we can to manage the environment responsibly. We run strong ventilation, use several air circulators and air purifiers, and even operate large humidifiers because the air becomes too dry. That is the reality of trying to balance comfort, culture, and day-to-day bar operations.”

When venues are larger or have employees, smoking is generally banned throughout the space. But owners may install designated smoking rooms that meet ventilation and sealing requirements. Anyone who has spent time in Tokyo’s nightlife district has likely seen them: glass-walled rooms tucked into the corner of a restaurant or bar where customers can sit, drink, and order food while smoking.

Physical spaces are not the only way Japanese regulations address smoking. The rules also distinguish between cigarettes and newer tobacco products such as Philip Morris’ IQOS or Japan Tobacco’s Ploom. Because these products heat tobacco rather than burn it, regulators consider them less intrusive and treat them differently from traditional cigarettes. As a result, some venues that prohibit regular cigarettes still allow heated tobacco products.

All of this can feel complicated, but the underlying pattern is simple: Within the legal framework, owners can still shape the atmosphere of their establishments.

During a recent visit to Tokyo, I asked a friend who owns a small bar why his venue allowed some forms of smoking but not others. His answer was straightforward: He allows heated tobacco products because that’s what he smokes.

For customers, choosing a bar in Tokyo often means choosing an environment as well. Someone who dislikes cigarette smoke can avoid it. Someone who enjoys smoking with a drink can seek out places where that is permitted.

Japan once leaned further toward consumer choice than it does today. Before the 2020 restrictions, smoking inside restaurants and bars was far more common. Today’s patchwork of exemptions and designated spaces is, in many ways, the remnant of that earlier system.

That remnant still offers something interesting. In Tokyo, the air inside a bar is not determined entirely by government regulators. Sometimes it is the choice of the person behind the counter and the people who choose to walk through the door.

The post Japan's Smoking Bans Make a Lot More Sense Than America's appeared first on Reason.com.

Warsaw, Poland, is a living museum of economic systems. It’s a city where concrete reliefs of stoic factory workers decorate a building that now houses a Kentucky Fried Chicken, where a Soviet-era apartment block stands beside a glass tower filled with coworking spaces.

Not even 35 years after escaping Soviet-style central planning, Poland has become a capitalist success story—the world’s 20th-largest economy and among the most prosperous of the former Eastern Bloc nations. The country’s transformation isn’t just visible in gross domestic product figures; it’s on every street corner and in every bite.

At lunchtime, you can step into a bar mleczny, where beet soup and pierogi still cost a few zloty. A few blocks away, in a converted power plant, bartenders pour small-batch IPAs. Those two scenes tell the story of Poland’s journey from collectivism to choice.

The first bar mleczny (literally “milk bar”) opened in 1896 as a cafeteria serving cheap dairy-based meals to urban workers. Under communism, the model was nationalized and multiplied, feeding the masses when stores and wallets ran empty. After the fall of communism in 1989, most closed as subsidies dried up and people rushed to embrace the global fast-food brands that symbolized freedom. Milk bars were forgotten, but they made an unlikely comeback in the 2010s.

Most have gone fully private, expanding menus and embracing the market; others still receive modest government reimbursements for meat-free dishes. Either way, milk bars have gone from symbols of scarcity to icons of nostalgic comfort—Poland’s version of the American diner.

If milk bars represent survival despite totalitarian economics, Poland’s craft beer movement embodies experimentation. Beer has been brewed in Poland for a millennium, surviving Nazi confiscation and communist quotas that once forbade brewers
from selling outside their regions.

Freedom transformed that constraint into a creative explosion. In 2011, the release of Atak Chmielu—a hoppy IPA from PINTA—kicked off the modern craft movement. By 2019, Poland had over 400 breweries, up from just 70 in 2010. Today, it ranks third in the European Union for beer production. From family-run taprooms to chic brewpubs, the scene reflects a bottom-up capitalism built on
competition, flavor, and risk taking.

And then there are capitalism’s culinary cathedrals—food halls.

Hala Koszyki, first built in 1909 and reopened in 2016, set the model: a prewar market reborn as a playground of global cuisine. Elektrownia Powiśle, a 1900s power station that was turned into a food hall in 2020, still flaunts its old industrial panels and switches while serving cocktails and bao buns. Fabryka Norblina followed in 2021, a factory complex now filled with wine bars, vegan counters, and live music. For vendors, food halls like these offer lower barriers to entry; for consumers, they offer an abundance of choice.

Warsaw’s food culture captures what no central planner could ever manufacture: spontaneity, competition, and taste shaped by demand.

The post Poland's Beer and Food Tell the Story of the Country's Extraordinary Rise From Communism appeared first on Reason.com.

America is lonelier than ever. Recent surveys find that nearly half of Americans report feeling lonely, and 21 percent express experiencing “serious loneliness.” Close friendships are also in free fall across the country. In 2021, the American Enterprise Institute’s Survey Center on American Life found that close friendships have “declined considerably over the past several decades,” with 12 percent of Americans reporting “they did not have any close friends.” 

Documented causes of this loneliness epidemic include social media and the rise in remote work, mental health challenges, and the decline of what sociologist Ray Oldenburg famously called “third places“—the spaces beyond home and work where people meet and connect.

Historically, churches, fraternal organizations, and even bowling leagues functioned as third places where people found connection. Such institutions are now in steady decline, but the demand for connection is not. Now, Americans are turning to recreational amenities such as pickleball courts and dog parks to fill the void that traditional institutions once met.

But the supply of these new third places has failed to keep pace. As our lonely society searches for connection, America desperately needs more of these spaces, and at sufficient quality to attract and sustain demand. One tool long championed by libertarians could help close this gap: user fees.

Consider pickleball, which has been America’s fastest-growing sport for four consecutive years. Nearly 20 million Americans played the paddle sport in 2024, a 311 percent increase since 2021. Its distinctive “open play” format brings strangers together on public courts, fostering the kind of social interaction needed to combat loneliness. As writer and pickleball player Mitch Dunn says, the pickleball court is “a Third Place where we meet new people, collaborate with them, and leave wanting to do it all over again as soon as possible.”

But even pickleball courts are in short supply. Despite adding 18,000 new courts in 2024, major metropolitan areas remain underserved. New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago all sit roughly 90 percent below national averages for dedicated court density, according to data from the Sports and Fitness Industry Association. The result is overcrowded facilities and frustrated players—hardly a recipe for fostering the relaxed social atmosphere that makes third places work.

User fees offer municipalities a way to expand these amenities without further straining the public fisc. Earlier this year, Burlington, North Carolina, opened a pickleball complex featuring 17 courts. The complex is operated by the city using a blended funding system of member and non-member user fees. For a $20 monthly fee, members get advanced court reservations and free use of the ball machine, while non-members can access the courts for a $3 entry fee. Other cities are implementing similar systems.

The possibilities extend far beyond pickleball. Dog parks have come to play a similar community-building role. In an analysis of Dallas-area parks, researcher Lori Lee concluded that dog parks qualify as third places that “encourage people to discard passive imitations of life to take part actively.” Whereas alcohol historically acted as a social lubricant in many third places, such as the local tavern, Lee argues that dogs increasingly act as a new type of social stimulant by encouraging humans to talk to each other and swap pet stories. Unfortunately, dog parks face their own funding shortfalls across the country.

Public swimming pools offer another example, but more and more are closing as local governments face chronically underfunded parks and recreation budgets. The same is true for trails and other outdoor amenities, which are increasingly operating as third places. 

The economic logic of user fees is straightforward: Fees are incurred by those who directly benefit from the service, rather than taxing the general population. And when revenues are retained and reinvested in those services, it creates a virtuous cycle—more users means more funding for improvements, which attracts still more users. Reason Foundation and other free market organizations, such as the Property and Environment Research Center, have long championed such user-pays-user-benefits models. This concept could easily extend to municipal park systems to fund the amenities most desired by the local community.

Of course, markets are already responding to America’s demand for social recreational spaces. Private pickleball clubs are proliferating, as are mountain biking trails and hiking destinations on privately owned lands. But voters still expect many recreational opportunities to be provided publicly. Even within this constraint, user fees offer a productive path forward.

The approach addresses multiple policy goals simultaneously. User-fee models could help reduce property taxes by shifting recreational costs from general revenues to direct beneficiaries. They also create sustainable funding streams that are less susceptible to politically motivated appropriations. They generate resources not only to build more parks, trails, and recreation facilities, but also to improve their quality so they attract more Americans seeking to escape their screens and rediscover community.

Embracing user fees could increase the supply of third places without tax hikes or unnecessary growth in government coffers. In turn, Americans could gain access to forums in which they can get off their smartphones, connect with other human beings, and maybe even make a friend or two along the way.

The post Americans Need More and Better 'Third Places.' User Fees Can Help. appeared first on Reason.com.

The American Automobile Association predicts that nearly 82 million Americans will travel more than 50 miles from home over Thanksgiving—a new record if it pans out. Almost all the travel increase, it projects, will be by car.

Whether you take a train, plane, or automobile to your holiday festivities, your income tax dollars are subsidizing drivers on the road. Most Americans assume that gas taxes and tolls fund highways. That used to be the case, but it’s no longer true. 

Gas taxes and user fees haven’t fully funded the federal highway system since 2007. In 2021, Congress authorized roughly $181 billion in transfers to the highway account—money paid for by debt and general revenues.

Even with that added cash, the federal Highway Trust Fund (HTF) will run out of money again in 2027. By 2033, it will need an extra $250 billion from taxpayers. That’s nearly $2,000 per American household over the next eight years.

The increased popularity of electric vehicles (E.V.s) contributes to the shortfall, as E.V. drivers don’t pay gas taxes. But the biggest reason highways are costing taxpayers is a decrepit financing system that needs an overhaul.

User fees are the best way to fund the highway system, because they come closest to approximating market prices. Gas taxes scale with how much people drive, while also pricing in some of the air and noise pollution they create. Heavy trucks rightly pay more in registration fees because of the damage they do to the roads. Meanwhile, freight railroads don’t benefit from subsidies the way that freight trucks do. Private freight railroads pay for over 90 percent of their own capital investment.

Congress can’t impose tolls to fund the HTF; state governments are responsible for maintaining federal and state highways, however, and they can levy tolls to fund them. As E.V.s gain a larger share of the car market, tolls will become increasingly important, as they are the main way for E.V. drivers to pay for their road use.

Many think it’s fine to exempt E.V.s from paying for the highways because of their environmental benefits. But E.V.s have their own pollution problem. Their extra weight means they often produce more particulate matter pollution from tires, brakes, and road surfaces. They also do more damage to the roads than equivalent gas-powered cars. Also, considering how their batteries are produced, recharged, and disposed of, E.V.s aren’t such an unambiguous win for human health that we should let them use the roads free of charge.

Charging all vehicles for their use of the highways through tolls or other user fees makes economic and environmental sense. When users have to pay their own way, they have an incentive to conserve. When they’re exempt from paying, they will have an incentive to overuse a resource. 

Another benefit of tolling is the option for surge pricing. Variable tolling can balance traffic and allocate scarce highway space to those drivers who need it most—and are willing to pay for it—at peak times.

Ideally, Congress should transfer ownership of federal highways to states and let states fund them through variable tolling as well as their own gas taxes and registration fees. So long as Washington can’t use tolls to fund highway construction, it makes more sense to put the responsibility for that funding in the hands of governments that can. 

Otherwise, if Congress is unwilling to get out of the highway game, it needs to raise the gas tax to cover the full cost of the HTF.

No libertarian wants to advocate raising a tax, but the federal gas tax is closer to a user fee than most other taxes. Right now, the federal government uses income taxes, tariffs, and other distorting levies to subsidize inefficient highway use. Opposing an increase to the federal gas tax in the current environment effectively endorses higher income taxes instead.

The post Thanksgiving Traffic Shows the Highway Trust Fund Is Running on Empty appeared first on Reason.com.

Everyone knows about the McDonald’s Happy Meal—a global icon, with its bright box, its golden arches, and a toy that keeps kids entertained long after the fries are gone. What most don’t know is this worldwide sensation was born in Guatemala, a small Central American country more often associated with coffee, bananas, and (unfortunately) crime.

In the mid-1970s, Yolanda Fernández de Cofiño, who founded the first McDonald’s in Guatemala, noticed that kids struggled to finish their meals. She created “Ronald’s Menu,” a kid-friendly meal that included a smaller hamburger, a little batch of fries, a drink, a sundae, and a toy she picked up from local markets. Her idea caught the attention of McDonald’s corporate offices, and by 1979 it had evolved into the Happy Meal we know today.

It’s remarkable that a product so central to McDonald’s global empire had its beginnings in Guatemala. But it’s not surprising. Beneath the headlines of corruption, violence, and poverty, the country pulses with entrepreneurial energy.

Walk through downtown Guatemala City, and you’ll feel it. Vendors line the sidewalks, selling everything from shucos (Guatemalan hot dogs) to handcrafted jewelry—often just steps away from sleek shopping centers filled with local luxury brands. This is a country where people don’t wait for permission or perfect conditions. They improvise, adapt, and build.

Visitors can see this spirit in action at places like the Mercado Central (the central market), where generations of merchants have set up shop in the city’s historic center, or the Mercado de Artesanías La Aurora (the handcrafts market), where artisans from across the country sell handwoven textiles, ceramics, and leather goods. It’s also alive in Cuatro Grados Norte, a once-neglected neighborhood now revived by artists, restauranters, and small businesses. And on Sundays, the city’s Pasos y Pedales program transforms two of its main boulevards into lively pedestrian zones, buzzing with cyclists, food carts, and families browsing handmade goods.

“About 45 percent of adults are involved in some kind of entrepreneurial activity,” explains David Casasola, director of research for the Global Entrepreneurship Monitor (GEM) at Universidad Francisco Marroquín (UFM). In 2023, Guatemala ranked second out of 45 countries participating in GEM’s survey—the world’s most comprehensive study on entrepreneurship, which includes economies from every region and income level—for the highest share of adults owning and managing a recently created business. It also held the third highest rate of female entrepreneurship.

This is partly shaped by necessity. Around 90 percent of Guatemalan entrepreneurs start their own businesses because formal job opportunities are scarce and strict labor regulations make it difficult to enter the formal work force, according to GEM.

“Guatemala has a serious problem generating employment opportunities,” Casasola explains. “Many people can’t access the job market because, first, it’s a highly regulated market. The way hiring works is very strict….Second, for a formal job to be worthwhile to an employer, the worker needs a level of productivity that is often out of reach—mainly because of low-quality education, limited technical training, and industries that still lack the kind of structure needed to generate significant value.”

Labor laws designed to protect workers—such as rigid termination rules, mandatory bonuses, and restrictions on part-time or freelance work—often end up discouraging hiring altogether. Starting a formal business isn’t easy either, thanks to layers of bureaucracy and paperwork. Add rampant corruption, poor infrastructure, limited access to credit, and legal uncertainty, and it becomes clear why opportunity is often stifled.

Ironically, those very obstacles have pushed many into entrepreneurship. Faced with endless red tape in the formal markets, many Guatemalans turn to informal ventures. About 70.6 percent of early-stage ventures operate without registration, according to GEM. Those that survive and adapt to the challenging environment are the ones that eventually formalize. But whether formal or informal, a business is still a business—and the value these ventures add to society, from creating jobs to fostering innovation, is undeniable.

“This is a developing country burdened by countless obstacles,” says Ramón Parellada, a board member of the Center for Economic and Social Studies (CEES). “People need more freedom to pursue entrepreneurship.”

CEES was founded in 1959 by the entrepreneur and economist Manuel Ayau and others eager to understand why Guatemala was so poor. Their conclusion: economic barriers—not a lack of talent or effort—were holding the country back.

In 1971, Ayau went on to found UFM, a libertarian university dedicated to promoting free markets, individual liberty, and the rule of law. “The idea of creating a university that stood out from the rest wasn’t driven by an interest in teaching just any subject—those can be taught anywhere,” Parellada explains. “Instead, the focus was on teaching the principles that govern a society of free and responsible individuals.”

At UFM, my alma mater, “Academic freedom led to other kinds of freedom,” as George Gilder put it in Life After Google. Its graduates have been central to key economic reforms. One of the most notable examples took place in 1996, when a group of alumni helped privatize Guatemala’s dysfunctional state-run phone system. Within a few years, Guatemala became one of the best-connected countries in Central America. Today, call centers are booming. “Sometimes thoughts become things,” Alfredo Guzmán, who played a key role in the privatization effort, told Reason in 2011.

Guided by CEES’ motto “for individual freedom to produce, consume, exchange, and serve without coercion of privileges,” other key reforms have followed. These include deregulating foreign currency, allowing Guatemalans to conduct business in any currency, and securing greater autonomy for universities by separating them from state control. These changes have helped start the process of dismantling the barriers that keep so many Guatemalans in poverty.

One of UFM’s current initiatives is the Kirzner Center for Entrepreneurship, named after the economist Israel Kirzner. His concept of “entrepreneurial discovery” describes how entrepreneurs identify and solve unmet needs, creating value in the process. The center applies this framework by helping Guatemalans turn ideas into businesses.

UFM has also pioneered a degree in entrepreneurship, encouraging students not just to build businesses, but to critically assess the policies that shape their success or failure. The goal isn’t just profit; it’s long-term, widespread prosperity.

Guatemala is an extraordinary country: home to ancient Mayan pyramids hidden in jungles, active volcanoes towering over vibrant cities, and 23 officially recognized languages. But perhaps its greatest untapped treasure is its entrepreneurial energy.

Guatemala faces serious structural challenges, many of them imposed by the state. But its people continue to find workarounds through informal markets and voluntary exchange. Whether it’s inventing the Happy Meal or deregulating entire industries, Guatemalans aren’t waiting for permission. They’re building prosperity in spite of the system, not because of it.

5-Day Historical Getaway in Guatemala

Day 1
Flight to Guatemala City

When you arrive, head to your hotel and drop off your luggage before exploring the city.

Stay in Guatemala City 
for three nights.

Standard hotel: La Inmaculada Hotel Upscale hotel: Hyatt Centric

Visit the Historic Center

Start your trip in Zone 1, the heart of Guatemala City. Wander through the central square, surrounded by such iconic landmarks as the Metropolitan Cathedral (Catedral Primada Metropolitana de Santiago), a blend of baroque and neoclassical architecture, and the National Palace of Culture, once the seat of government and now a museum.

Don’t miss the Central Market, where you can find everything from textiles and handicrafts to fresh produce and street food.

Optional activity: Visit Guatemala’s 100th McDonald’s—known as “Mc100″—in Mixco’s Zone 7. The flagship location features a distinctive architectural design as well as the largest McPlay area in Central America.

Grab a drink at El Portalito, one of the city’s oldest bars, known for its live marimba music. For dinner, head to La Cocina de la Señora Pu, a cozy spot that recreates traditional Guatemalan flavors.

Day 2
Dive into Mayan Heritage

Explore Guatemala’s historical roots at two of the country’s best museums: Museo Popol Vuh, home to one of the world’s most important collections of Mayan art, and the Ixchel Museum of Indigenous Textiles and Clothing, which showcases Guatemala’s textile traditions. Both museums are located on the Universidad Francisco Marroquín campus, so take some time to enjoy the beautiful grounds and modern architecture.

For lunch or dinner, head to Zone 4, the city’s creative district. It’s packed with great dining options. A local favorite: Mercado 24, known for its creative take on Guatemalan ingredients.

Optional activities: Get shucos from a street vendor in Zone 4. No need to get out of your car—they’ll come to you!

Day 3
Day trip to Antigua

Just an hour from the capital, Antigua is a UNESCO World Heritage Site famous for its cobblestone streets, pastel-colored colonial buildings, and unbeatable volcano views.

Walk through the Santa Catalina Arch, hike up to Cerro de la Cruz, and explore the city’s many shops and markets. Grab lunch at Tartines for panoramic views of the cathedral from the rooftop. Enjoy a cocktail at Ulew, a speakeasy known for inventive drinks.

Day 4
Connect with Nature

Go on an adventure and hike one of Guatemala’s volcanoes: Pacaya Volcano is a popular half-day hike, with a chance to witness volcanic activity and even roast marshmallows over geothermal vents. For a more challenging experience, try Acatenango, an overnight trek with incredible sunrise views of the erupting Fuego Volcano next door.

Optional activities: Fly to Tikal in the Petén region to visit the Mayan ruins in the jungle; visit Lake Atitlán, a highland lake surrounded by volcanoes and dotted with picturesque traditional villages.

Day 5
Flight home

Make a list of the things you didn’t have time to see for your next visit!

The post The Nearly Free Markets of Guatemala appeared first on Reason.com.

Last year I honeymooned in Rome, which was a long day trip from the tiny 2,500-year-old village in the Campania region of Italy that my maternal grandparents left in the 1910s. Of course I had to go—it was surely my only chance to see where that side of my family had come from.

It’s a very American thing to travel to ancestral hometowns, especially if your ancestors were fleeing poverty or political repression. Perhaps more than ever, as America grows less sure of its exceptionalism, we want to be reminded that we are lucky to have grown up in the glittering New World rather than the tarnished old one.

But the best sort of travel is that which confounds our expectations rather than confirms our prejudices. And that’s what I experienced on a drizzly day in Fragneto Monforte, population 1,700, known for a relic of the 3rd century martyr Saint Faustina, for an ancient and revered tiglio tree in the town square, and, go figure, for a hot air balloon festival that started sometime around the turn of this century.

I had heard only fleeting references to this speck of a town throughout my childhood, and the stories always drove home how backward, stultifying, and impoverished the place was, even for notoriously poor southern Italy. My mother and her siblings rehearsed a particular narrative about why their parents had emigrated; it was persuasive if uncheckable even before my grandparents died in the 1980s. (They didn’t speak English; I didn’t speak Italian.) The story went like this: There was no future in Italy back then, especially for peasants like my ancestors. Everyone who could leave, did.

Incredibly, my wife had tracked down a relative of mine via Facebook groups and Google Translate. Part of me worried that we were being scammed—I’ve seen the second season of White Lotus, where Italian-Americans seeking to connect to their roots in the old country are suckered on multiple levels. We took a surprisingly efficient and well-appointed high-speed train from Rome to nearby Benevento (post-Mussolini, it seems, the trains still run on time) and then a cab to Fragneto Monforte, where Pasqualino, my previously unknown second cousin, met us. He was a tall, strapping 50-something construction engineer. He met us with his wife and daughter, who was training in Rome to become a doctor. With his daughter translating, he explained that he was the grandson of my grandmother’s sister and his own mother was still alive at 93.

They gave us the grand tour, which took less than an hour, showing us the houses where my grandfather and grandmother had grown up. I searched for my grandfather’s initials in the bricks surrounding the tiglio tree. (Family lore had it that he’d scratched them in before he left for America as a teenager.)

I was eager to meet Pasqualino’s mother Anna, a cousin my mother had never known or spoken of before dying in 1999. She was spry for a nonagenarian—and though she spoke no English, her gestures, expressions, and sounds instantly reminded me of my mother and grandmother. She lived in a beautiful house that had been in the family for generations; truth be told, it was far nicer than the house I grew up in, or those of my Italian-American relatives, which occasionally veered into plastic-covered couches, mirrored walls, and gold-foil wallpaper. She brought us drinks and snacks and showed me photos from the ’70s, when my grandparents had visited.

I told her I was taught that my grandparents (her uncle and aunt) had left for economic reasons and to avoid war. No, said Anna, they were all doing pretty well, even during World War I and World War II and the rebuilding afterward. They and one other were the only family members who left, she said, and it was never clear why.

Did she ever wish her parents had gone to America No, she answered: This was always a good place to live.

As I hugged this ancient woman with whom I share a real but tenuous connection and whom I will never see again, I felt for a second like I was hugging my own mother one last time. I was also saying goodbye to family stories that may or may not have ever been true.

The post Visit Your Ancestral Homeland appeared first on Reason.com.

The people of Georgia might well be the first folks who ever got properly wine-drunk.

Straddling the Promethean Caucasus mountains, wedged between both Black and Caspian seas, Georgia is a cultural crossroads between Europe and Asia. Its fertile valleys and slopes yielded the oldest archaeological evidence of wine production currently on record. During my short yet delightfully buzzed visit last fall, it was apparent that they’ve only gotten better at both the making and the drinking. Georgian winemaking traditions are hard won; in the Soviet era, many indigenous grape varieties were lost to brutish demands for quantity, not quality. Some families preserved precious varieties in secret.

I saw this heady spirit in the small town of Kachreti at the Burjanadze family home. At a traditional supra (banquet), my host and tomada (toastmaster) poured glass after glass of his own inky red Saperavi, each after a heartfelt toast, before bursting into a polyphonic song alongside his father. The wine came from a qvevri, a traditional clay pot submerged in his backyard, and the bottle’s label was stamped with his family’s fingerprints, several of whom shared the table and the cherished moment.

Georgia also gave the world one of the 20th century’s worst tyrants, Josef Stalin. Born in Gori, west of capital city Tbilisi, Stalin’s dark shadow lingers. Venture across the Kura River a few miles outside the city center and find yourself down a dank underground museum where a young revolutionary Stalin printed secret pamphlets during the Bolshevik Revolution. A charming yet perhaps contextually overeager docent asks you to sign a guest book scattered among USSR memorabilia.

Soviet-era grisliness aside, it’s an understatement to say Georgian politics have been complicated. Surrounded on all sides by great powers, the seismic situation encompasses many languages, plus the friction of competing political ideas and faiths in Armenia and Azerbaijan. Most notably it shares a contested border with Russia, the bear next door with an appetite.

If geography really is destiny, then the Georgian situation has understandably necessitated a stiff, perpetual drink.

After the Soviet Union’s collapse and at least a decade’s worth of post-Soviet corruption, a young Mikheil Saakashvili climbed Parliament’s stairs with flowers in hand. The Rose Revolution swept Saakashvili into office peacefully; he reduced government corruption and increased economic liberalization, spurred on by his libertarian-leaning minister of economy, Kakha Bendukidze. Georgia’s economy received a jolt, as if the whole country had taken a shot of its beloved brandy chacha (second only to the wine) and raised eyebrows in the Western world with the speed and success of those reforms.

Though Saakashvili left a mixed legacy (he’s now imprisoned on abuse of power charges), the stickiness of those free market ideas and reforms is notable, however fraught the country remains. Girchi, the only official libertarian party in a post-Soviet state outside of Russia, was formed by dissenters from Saakashvili’s United National Movement party after his collapse. It has since advocated both economic and drug liberalization, while staging stunts against conscription and state crackdowns on sex workers, going so far as opening a brothel in its party headquarters.

Georgia remains a swirl of political foment, as I realized by stumbling accidentally onto Rustaveli Avenue before fall parliamentary elections. Thousands of Georgians paraded, draped in Georgian and European Union colors, marching in support of then-President Salome Zourabichvili, as she tried to hold off billionaire and former Prime Minister Bidzina Ivanishvili’s Georgian Dream party. Ivanishvili’s ties to Russia and presence in politics still loom large, much like his Bond villain–esque mansion perched high above Tbilisi.

Despite the turbulence, pockets of Tbilisi buzz with young entrepreneurs reclaiming and redefining the Georgian trajectory, one pointed decidedly west. Down an unassuming street, there’s Lasha Devdariani selling handcrafted silk robes from his cozy studio, some of which cloaked Tilda Swinton in Only Lovers Left Alive. Walk into Sololaki where traditional meets modern at Iasamani restaurant—bare candles burning over peeling paint, cracked tiles, and khachapuri hint at the history of both the room and the nation. Around the corner the gents at 41 Degrees Art of Drinks sling cocktails from a handwritten book that taste like the throng on Rustaveli Avenue felt: fiery and self–assured.

John Steinbeck heard of Georgia’s magic before arriving in 1947 at the start of the Cold War. In A Russian Journal,he noted: “People who had never been there and possibly never could go there spoke of Georgia with a kind of longing and great admiration. They spoke of Georgians as supermen, as great drinkers, great dancers, great musicians, great workers and lovers. And they spoke of the country in the Caucasus and around the Black Sea as a kind of second heaven.”

More people, especially free thinkers and drinkers, should visit. Drink the wine, pet the dogs (tagged strays roam lazily, freely, even into bars and hotel lobbies), shoot the chacha, stare at giant Jesus in Holy Trinity Cathedral, devour khinkali (hands only), and let the hospitality intoxicate you in its distinctly Georgian way.

6 Days in Georgian Wine Country

Day 1
Flight to Tbilisi

It’s best to have a car to see Georgia at your own pace. Pick up a rental and head to your hotel.

Stay in Tbilisi for three nights.

Day 2
Explore Tbilisi

Start your adventure by getting a feel for Georgia’s capital, Tbilisi. This is a place where the old meets the new, offering a mix of historic sites and trendy bars and restaurants.

The Holy Trinity Cathedral of Tbilisi is the largest Orthodox church in Georgia and boasts fantastic views of the city. Next, take the Tbilisi Funicular up to Mtatsminda Pantheon, where some of Georgia’s most prominent writers, artists, and national heroes are buried. Up there, you can enjoy Mtatsminda Park and get a view of former Prime Minister Bidzina Ivanishvili’s stunning house. Take the Rustaveli-Mtatsminda Cable Car back down the hill to end the trip.

Day 3
Free day in Tbilisi

Go where the wind blows today, and be sure to drink some wine along the way.

Optional activities: 8000 Vintages wine shop and bar, Cafe Daphna, Dry Bridge Market, Queen Darejan Palace, Tbilisi State Academy of Arts, the National Gallery, Underground Printing House Museum

Day 4
Self-Drive to Sighnaghi

Head east for your two-hour drive to Sighnaghi, known as “the city of love” and located in the heart of Georgia’s wine region. Revel in the colorful buildings, the medieval architecture, and the stunning Caucasus mountains on the horizon. And of course, the wine. Visit the Kerovani Winery to sample an assortment of Georgian wines and learn about the traditional Kakhetian method of winemaking in qvevri (clay vessels).

Stay in Sighnaghi for two nights.

Day 5
Free day in Sighnaghi

Enjoy your final day in Georgia!

Optional activities: Sighnagi National Museum, St. George Church, Marriage Palace, The Sighnaghi World War II Memorial, Sighnaghi Wall

Day 6
Flight Home

Drive back to Tbilisi for your return flight home.

The post Georgia: The Possible Birthplace of Wine and Definite Birthplace of Stalin appeared first on Reason.com.

For my 80th birthday, my wife Lou offered to plan a trip somewhere I’d always wanted to go. I chose the Millau Viaduct—Europe’s highest and most wonderful bridge.

I used a photo of the viaduct on the cover of my 2018 book, Rethinking America’s Highways, because it is a superb example of a major highway project as a business enterprise. There were no government subsidies involved in the 1,125-foot-high bridge, which spans the gorge valley of the River Tarn near Millau in southern France. It was financed and is operated and maintained based on toll revenue, exemplifying key ideas in the book.

But it’s also more than that. Anti-privatizers like to portray privatized infrastructure as done on the cheap, potentially cutting corners in pursuit of a profit. I already knew that was false, based on a coffee table book about the Viaduct’s design. Discovery Channel’s coverage of the last stages of its construction declares that it “fits perfectly into the beautiful landscape.” It also saves vehicles on the motorway from Paris to the Riviera nearly an hour, compared with driving down into the valley.

The Viaduct is not merely an engineering marvel; it’s breathtakingly beautiful. Seeing it up close, first from the floor of the valley and then driving across it, was overwhelming. Last year was the bridge’s 20th anniversary, and the company is introducing electronic tolling at its toll plaza.

The post Europe's Highest Bridge Was Built Without Government Subsidies appeared first on Reason.com.

It’s little surprise that many libertarians count The Lord of the Rings among their favorite stories.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s tales of bravery and camaraderie in the face of an evil lust for control have shaped many libertarian world-views. Though many adaptations have been made in the decades since Tolkien published The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, no films brought these beloved books to life as spectacularly as Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies, which owe a great deal of their visual power and emotional resonance to the natural beauty of New Zealand, where much of the trilogy was filmed.

Visitors to Aotearoa—the Māori name for New Zealand—can find themselves immersed in a geography that feels magically pulled straight from Tolkien’s stories. The North Island (Te Ika-a-Māui) is home to a rolling hill country and a rural calm that are perfectly suited for the Shire, most notably in the town of Matamata, where the Hobbiton set still stands (and where you can enjoy a feast fit for 13 dwarves). Geothermal regions echo the eerie beauty of Middle-earth’s darker corners, and the lush forests near Wellington provided the setting for the ethereal realm of Rivendell.

On the South Island (Te Waipounamu), the landscape opens up to jagged peaks, windswept plains, and glacier-carved valleys that became the backdrop for places like Rohan and Gondor. Whether on foot, horseback, boat, or bus, visitors have many ways to experience this real-life fantasy world surrounding the city of Queenstown.

Are you quite ready for another adventure? Gather your fellowship and let this sample itinerary be your guide—but stay flexible. After all, you never know when you might encounter a cave troll or need to find another path into Mordor. Every journey takes some unexpected turns, but as Tolkien reminds us, “Not all who wander are lost.”

Day 1
Flight to Auckland

If you are leaving from America, you will cross the international dateline and lose a calendar day in travel. (If you depart on August 1, you will arrive on August 3.)

Stay in Auckland for one night.

Day 2
Free day in Auckland

You’ll arrive in the “city of sails” early in the morning. Spend the day immersing yourself in the local culture or exploring the charming neighborhoods on foot.

Optional activities: Auckland city sights tour, ferry to Waiheke Island, Auckland War Memorial Museum

Day 3
Self-Drive to Matamata: Hobbiton

Pick up your rental and enjoy the 2.5-hour drive through New Zealand’s beautiful countryside to the set of Hobbiton in Matamata. Your guided tour will take you through all 12 acres of the Shire, including the famous Hobbit Holes, until you arrive at The Green Dragon Inn, where you can enjoy a complimentary beverage from the famous Hobbit Southfarthing Range. After dark, you’ll be treated to a two-course banquet.

Self-Drive to Rotorua

After dinner, drive one hour to Rotorua, where you will stay for two nights.

Day 4
Free day in Rotorua

Enjoy some leisure time in “nature’s spa of the South Pacific.”

Optional activities: Scenic gondola ride, Te Puia geothermal park, Polynesian Spa, Stratosfare Restaurant, Waitomo Glowworm Caves

Day 5
Flight to Wellington

Drop off your rental car and catch your morning flight to Wellington for a one-night stay.

WĒTĀ Workshop Tour

Wētā Workshop is home to an entire team of creative artisans who’ve helped bring to life films such as Jackson’s Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies. Learn about the making of movie effects, from armor to creatures to costumes and makeup to miniatures.

Day 6
Free day in Wellington

Explore the city’s vibrant streets, iconic landmarks, and cultural attractions.

Optional activities: Wellington cable car, Zealandia wildlife sanctuary

Ferry to Picton

Take the 3.5-hour evening dinner ferry to Picton for one night.

Day 7
Flight to Christchurch

Christchurch, where you will spend one night, is a hub for all things nature, culture, and art.

Optional activities: Christchurch Art Gallery, Centre of Contemporary Art, Pōhatu Penguins tour, Akaroa dolphin cruise

Day 8
Self-Drive to Queenstown
via Mount Sunday

Mount Sunday, about 2.5 hours from Christchurch, served as the filming location for Edoras, the capital of Rohan. It’s one of the most iconic Lord of the Rings locations in the South Island, and the surrounding Rangitata Valley is jaw-droppingly beautiful.

Continue to Queenstown, where you will stay for three nights.

Day 9
Free day in Queenstown

Queenstown is a year-round resort where excitement meets tranquility amid stunning landscapes. Situated on the shores of magical Lake Wakatipu, there is something for everyone, whether you’re seeking serene moments or heart-pounding adventures.

Optional activities: Doubtful Sound tour, white water rafting, high country horseback riding, gourmet wine tour

Day 10
Full-day Lord of the Rings Tour

Your expert guides will bring you through Arcadia Station, the breathtaking filming location nestled in the stunning Paradise area near Glenorchy. This unparalleled experience will bring you closer to the iconic Lord of the Rings locations than any other tour can.

Day 11
Flight Home

If you cross the international date line, you will arrive home the same calendar day you leave.

The post An 11-Day Middle-earth Fantasy in New Zealand appeared first on Reason.com.

Sure, people are great, but sometimes you really want to be an individual—alone. Solitude and quiet, unfortunately, are becoming a luxury commodity. Here are six out-of-the-way places offering unique experiences to the antisocial traveler.

Jules’ Undersea Lodge

No one’s going to bother you at Jules Undersea Lodge in the Florida Keys, besides maybe a class of new scuba divers practicing in the lagoon outside your window. The lodge offers a hotel room that one must scuba dive down 20 feet to enter. The price includes underwater pizza delivery, too.

New Camaldoli Hermitage

When my neighbors crank up their gas-powered leaf blowers for the umpteenth time, I consider the finer points of joining the brothers of the New Camaldoli Hermitage, a Camaldolese Benedictine hermitage overlooking the cliffs of Big Sur, California.

New Camaldoli’s location was chosen for its isolation and beauty, and the place is accessible only by a winding mountain road. The dozen or so monks there take a vow of silence and spend their days in prayer and peaceful contemplation. They also welcome visitors to experience life at the hermitage at several guest lodges.

The branch’s founder, St. Romuald, instructed brothers to “put the whole world behind you and forget it,” a task that’s considerably easier when you’re watching the sun set over the Pacific Ocean from a quiet bench with your back to the rest of the world.

Fort Jefferson and the Dry Tortugas

In 1846 the U.S. government began building an enormous brick fortress in the Dry Tortugas, a small uninhabited island chain about 70 miles west of Key West. The site was strategically important—but as the name implies, it didn’t have a drop of fresh water.

The miserable and ill-fated fort was built largely by slaves and convicts. It was never fully completed because it began collapsing under its own weight, a metaphor so obvious it would be unsporting to joke about if the butt of the joke weren’t the government. The fort remained in Union hands during the Civil War and doubled as a military prison, holding criminals and deserters. One of the Lincoln assassination conspirators was incarcerated there for several years after the war. Wracked by hurricanes and yellow fever outbreaks, the military garrison was drawn down and eventually abandoned. The fort’s fearsome artillery batteries were melted for scrap or left to rust, never fired once.

Today this sinking government boondoggle can be your island getaway. Dry Tortugas National Park is one of the most remote national parks, reachable only via sea plane or a long ferry ride. The camping is primitive, but there’s unmatched stargazing, terrific snorkeling right off the beach, and 70 miles of open ocean between you and someone taking a picture of a brunch plate.

Fire Lookout Towers

Fire lookout towers in national forests have mostly been phased out by new technology. That means they’re now available to rent for short stays. They’re remote, they’re inexpensive, and they offer stunning views.

“Boy, it sure seems like there’s a lot of government stuff on this list for a libertarian magazine,” you might be saying. Well, the government already paid to put all this stuff in the middle of nowhere. We might as well get some enjoyment out of it.

Besides, surely you’d like to brag to your friends about your vacation at Sex Peak Lookout in the Rocky Mountains. Availability and booking information for fire lookout towers can be found on recreation.gov.

Everglades National Park

If the price and logistics of getting to Fort Jefferson are too daunting, Everglades National Park offers similar isolationist pleasures for those willing to paddle for it. From the Flamingo Visitor Center at the southern tip of the Everglades, adventurous campers can launch a kayak or canoe and travel overwater to a number of isolated beaches and floating platforms known as “chickee huts.”

It’s not hard to find a remote backpacking spot, but camping on a chickee hut over the slick flat water of Florida Bay—the only place on earth where alligators and crocodiles coexist—is not something soon to be forgotten.

Frying Pan Tower

Want to get a taste of seasteading without the annoying paperwork of declaring yourself a micronation? Check out Frying Pan Tower, another derelict wonder. This one is a decommissioned Coast Guard light station 32 miles off the coast of North Carolina. A nonprofit group is now restoring the iconic lighthouse—named for its 72-foot-by-72-foot platform—and it hosts ecotourism adventure weekends for those whose idea of a fun vacation is skeet shooting 80 feet above the Atlantic Ocean and scuba diving with sand tiger sharks.

The post 6 U.S. Travel Destinations in the Middle of Nowhere appeared first on Reason.com.