After zipping through rural Cambodian villages outside Battambang on the back of a motorbike, I found downtown Phnom Penh to be rather unpleasant. I had to go though, if for no other reason, then to visit the former Khmer prison of S-21, which was an emotional, thought-provoking experience.
I passed through a lot of airports on my trip around the world, big and small.
I boarded everything from a six-seater in Botswana to a jumbo jet to Thailand, and I always had my camera ready to go.
I was "that guy" fiddling with his camera on the tarmac as the flights were boarding in China, Qatar, and many places in between. How else could I get you some of these shots?
Perhaps the most essential component of travel is experiencing a culture different than that of your own.
In order to truly experience a culture, you have to have at least a reasonable grip on its history and current events.
I start this process long before I board my plane and jet off to a foreign land.
You wouldn't be able to truly grasp German culture without knowledge of WWII nor could you understand the Cuban psyche without learning of the Cuban Revolution.
I am by no means suggesting that a Ph.D. in history is required to travel, however, awareness is essential.
I have quite the affinity for history and politics so I enjoy this process greatly.
Although I do review the history of a country, what truly interests me are current events, particularly events that may be overlooked by Western media.
I feel that learning about under-reported issues gives me a deeper understanding of the culture.
Most people would be surprised at how much is overlooked by Western media.
For example, at present there is an armed insurgency in the South of Thailand, bombings and shootings are common, and tourists have been killed including a Canadian teacher.
The conflict is a direct result of Thailand annexing what is now Southern Thailand from Malaysia in 1902.
The conflict has gotten so out of hand that the Thai government has started to arm Buddhist citizens.
Though not quite under the radar as other issues in the region, the political strife in Burma was brought to the attention of the world most recently in September 2007.
Most of the coverage centered around a peaceful uprising that happened in Burma.
You probably saw the images that were broadcast around the world of monks marching through the streets.
These images were almost exclusively taken by an independent news organization called "Democratic Voice of Burma" (DVB).
They are an organization in exile who sponsor undercover video journalists to secretly capture private and political life in Burma.
As the uprising grew, they did what other journalists could not, and thus gave strength and worldwide support to the movement.
A film has been compiled together from the footage shot by DVB, and the result is Burma VJ, a gripping journey that takes the viewer through the history of rebellion in Burma, from the lead up of the uprising all the way through the brutal repression by the military.
The story follows a single reporter exiled in Thailand, watching helplessly as his countrymen fight for their freedom.
His scenes were recreated to lend dramatic effect and emotional weight to the film.
A few events in the film really struck me as unique and acutely interesting.
While watching the film, you see the video of tens of thousands in the street shouting "Reconciliation now! Our cause! Our cause!"
You are hit with a wave of emotion, from the voice of thousands you can feel their struggle and the voice of a nation emerging.
What I found interesting was that the crowd was calling for negotiations and not the outright fall of the government.
If I was in their situation, I would not have been so generous, and perhaps that highlights a stark difference between Western and Buddhist culture.
Later in the film, the issue of the military is highlighted. If they had joined the uprising, the government would have fallen.
I expected hatred to be directed at the brutally oppressive military, yet only pity was expressed for the soldiers. Again, I believe this is a product of Burma's strong Buddhist culture.
Whether you are aware of Burma's political instability or not, Burma VJ is an amazing must watch for any traveler considering visiting the country.
Not only will you be a better-informed traveler, but you will see the country in a whole new light.
Burma VJ currently has limited showings in Europe with a few showings coming in the States later this year.
Unfortunately, most people will have to wait for a wider release or find the film through more dubious means. If you have the ability to see it don't rob yourself of this great experience.
After the post I did about "Top 10 Travel Movies To Get You Going in 2010" received so much feedback, I thought I would do a follow-up list.
There were a lot of good suggestions in the comments about other titles, and I was happy to see some good independent travel movies recommended as well.
One thing is for sure (and I stated this before), everyone has a different opinion on what constitutes a good travel movie.
Sorry Sherry (author of Ottsworld.com), and Michaela (co-author of BriefcasetoBackpack.com), but I've got to point you out on this.
Sherry wanted to add Revolutionary Road and Michaela wanted to add The Devil Wears Prada.
In no way did any one of these movies ever inspire me personally to travel in the slightest bit.
I didn't care for Devil Wears Prada, and personally I could think of 20 other films that better represent New York City life.
Revolutionary Road was a good movie, and although I know why it was listed as a good travel choice, to me it was more about suicide/marriage problems/reunion of Titanic than anything else, as I felt travel only played a very small part of it.
That being said, I watched XXX and wanted to go to Prague the next day because of it.
Some people who have watched it would say it was a good action movie, but it didn't inspire them to quit their jobs and buy a one-way ticket to travel the world.
They would think I'm even crazier for listing this movie on a Top 10 travel movies list.
So bottom line, everyone is different.
Everyone gets inspired in a different way, everyone thinks differently and everyone is right in their own way.
If you were in the fashion industry in Japan and watched Devil Wears Prada, then it might well be the best movie to get you to travel to New York or Paris in the future.
Below are some suggested titles of other great travel movies that will hopefully inspire you.
Again, all new suggestions are welcome in the comment section.
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In Last Stop for Paul, two guys travel the world to as many countries as possible in two weeks.
They carry the ashes of a friend along the way, and get into trouble in every way possible.
Shot with one camera, and a truly bare-bones budget, it won more awards in 2007 than any other independent movie.
Man gets dumped by fiancee and takes the honeymoon on his own to South America.
He meets other travelers along the way and the name (The Art of Travel) pretty much says it all... it's about travel!
Two girls hitchhiking Ecuador because of a bus strike.
One is trying to see the country and the other is trying to stop a wedding.
Que Tan Lejos is all in Spanish and some of the jokes you have to be Ecuadorian to understand but it's a sweet movie about traveling, getting lost and meeting new people.
"On a trip around the world, every day feels like Saturday.
A MAP FOR SATURDAY reveals a world of long-term, solo travel through the stories of trekkers on four continents."
A blind blues player goes to Mongolia to jam with Tuvan throat-singers in Genghis Blues.
A beautiful, soulful movie about one man's dream and two different cultures coming together.
If you haven't heard of Tuvan throat-singers, they can sing 3 notes at one time and there is nothing else like it in the world.
One man's journey across Canada from Toronto to Vancouver on a vintage motorbike.
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George Clooney flies around America firing people but his only wish is to become the 7th member of American Airlines to reach 10 million frequent flyer miles.
There is a lot more going on in Up In The Air, but as far as extreme travel goes it hit a high note.
Easy Rider is a cult-classic about two Americans in the 60's traveling the badlands tripping off life.
An original road tripping film that set the benchmark.
The president's daughter runs away from her Secret Service protection to explore Europe.
Chasing Liberty is a chick flick but has some great backpacking scenes from Europe that any traveler will be able to relate to.
Small town girl with dreams of escaping her dead-end life by becoming an international flight attendant.
View From the Top shows the joys and pains of working as a flight attendant and Mike Meyers is funny as hell "I want my warm nuts!" Not a real serious movie but a fun one.
Three American brothers traveling by train to find their reclusive mother in rural India.
The Darjeeling Limited is a funny movie with a superb cast!
This is a guest post by Stephen Barrett. If you want to guest post on Go Backpacking, please read more here.
As part of a larger backpacking trip around the world, Stephen Barrett had the good fortune to be in McLeod Ganj, seat of the Tibetan Government in Exile, for the first day of a series of lectures given at his residence by Tenzin Gyatzo, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama.
I wander into the small museum close by within the complex. Within this small space the museum successfully tells the story of Tibet's interwoven spiritual and political history and the current Dalai Lama's selection at the age of two under the direction of his predecessor who took instruction from his dreams. It goes on to illustrate Chinese occupation and the subsequent plight of so many people.
Photographs, videos and detailed descriptions bring this hidden history to the fore and the effect is powerful. First hand accounts of seemingly impossible journeys fill the air and only then can I begin to understand those damaged people outside. It is a profound experience.
The main hall within the Tsuglagkhang Temple complex is large and airy with gold colored prayer wheels on the inner walls. Groups of monks and lay people from all corners of the world mill around talking excitedly, scoping out positions and choosing a floor space to seat themselves. Many have brought cushions to sit on and carry bowls or cups, the use of which is yet to become apparent.
To the front an enclosed area with space for maybe two hundred devotees houses a raised wooden stage with a simple white seat decorated with multicolored and gold inlaid covers. Behind it sits a large golden Buddha. Large windows and wide doors mean there is no problem for the rest of us to observe what is to take place. Immediately outside this enclosure sit five rows of monks.
I manage to find a space in the sixth row among the first of the lay people. I settle in to sample the atmosphere and regret my lack of a cushion as I got used to the hard ground. Teenage boys, shaven headed and barefoot skilfully weave through the seated crowd carrying large kettles filling the cups and bowls with sweet, milky tea. I am spotted and a plastic cup is produced from beneath a robe just for me. The atmosphere is alive with anticipation and it is obvious that this is an honor for many of the monks too, not just us lucky visitors.
Soon every inch of floor space is taken, leaving just enough space for people to pass single file around the outer hall. Latecomers quietly scurry in and apologize to their neighbors. Many, including me, produce small radios and earphones and tune in to listen to the simultaneous translation. It is at this moment that the screen on my digital MP3 Player/FM Radio decides to freeze and I am left dumbfounded. I am going to miss the whole point of the gathering. I study the player, fiddle with the buttons and scan the crowd above the heads of the monks for anyone who looks vaguely "˜techie', all to no avail.
The Dalai Lama is entering and the people stand as he passes. He is smiling and polite, shaking hands and bestowing blessings as he makes his way to the platform. It is all about to happen and I am not going to understand a word. Just then a young female monk or Bikkhuni taps me on the shoulder and takes the player from my hands, she pulls a pin from the hem of her robe and carefully inserts it into a tiny hole on the side of the player marked "˜Reset', a hole I had never noticed. The player obeys her and reawakens. She smiles at my look of gratitude and surprise before returning her gaze to the platform. I am saved!
To my shame I often forget that despite their other worldly appearances these are regular people just as involved and abreast of the modern world as you or I, often more so. Within Buddhism, Monkhood is not necessarily a permanent state, it is something that can be entered into and left at different stages in life, depending on the individuals own path.
His Holiness takes his seat. He wears the same maroon and yellow robes as the other monks, right arm free to elaborate his speech, left arm concealed beneath the robe. He begins by answering a few questions in English. His demeanor is open and relaxed. His voice is deep, warm and authoritative. With eyes fixed attentively on each questioner in turn it is clear that when you speak you are important to him and there is a promise there that he will give his best in his response.
In the course of answering the questions he touches on a meeting with Chairman Mao in 1954 in which the Chairman endorsed the use of the Tibetan flag, tells a humorous tale of pulling his fathers mustache as a child and instructs a mother on raising her son with compassion, patience and clear explanations. The serious question of whether a student should have blind faith in a master is raised. This brings an eloquent explanation that contrasts sharply with the dogmatic teachings of many religious leaders.
The Dalai Lama instructs his students to question their masters in the light of their own experiments, investigation and reason, and only then, if they are satisfied, should they accept the teaching. Faith and devotion to a master should not be allowed to color an individual's judgment. He goes on to explain that the Buddha himself said that oneself is one's master, Buddha is not the creator, merely a teacher, so you alone are responsible for satisfying yourself. It is a graceful and, to my mind, irrefutable response.
The final question, considering this is a brief and semi formal Q & A, is a big one. " Is there an end of "˜I'?"?
Without a pause for thought the answer begins to flow back to the questioner. The Dalai Lama responds by first defining the self as pure conscience. If we take this definition, he elaborates, then it is possible to argue that there is no end because there is no "˜counterforce' to pure conscience, therefore no reason for it to end. Things made of mere matter are destroyed by counterforces, their opposites. Impurity in the mind can be destroyed by meditation and right thinking. What is left is purity. A true buddha's mind is a pure one with no reason to end so the essence remains.
He goes on to cite as evidence, children with very clear memories of previous existence but he also leaves room for further debate by stating that there are many views on the subject from various religions. His final words on the subject, as you would expect, reflect an open and inquisitive mind; " Which is right? We must investigate."?
Switching to Tibetan now, he addresses the text he is to discuss this afternoon. As this happens a quiet whisper begins in my ear. His faithful translator, sitting attentively to one side, is discretely whispering in English probably for half the people present or more, as well as all those gathered in cafes, hostels and classrooms across the town.
The Dalai Lama is addressing us on the text of Je Tsongkhapa's Song of the Stages for the Path to Enlightenment, someone and something I have never heard of. His discourse is all about clarity and removing "˜obscurations' in order to obtain a correct view of reality. Throughout his discourse the emphasis is on the ability of everyone to do this. No man, not he or the Buddha himself has an innate advantage in this area. Everyone must learn and develop to improve their mind.
The feeling of equality is the wonderful thing about attending a lecture such as this, given by someone who has clearly devoted a lifetime of study to the subject. There is no condescension, no inflated ego, no political grandstanding. Although he is held in the greatest awe by everyone in the room he never gives the impression that this is relevant to him. The feeling he has created in the room is that we are all equal and he just happens to be the one speaking today. Everyone is engaged, thoughtful and, to a greater or lesser extent, enlightened.
Two hours later, we disperse and I come away feeling a little lighter. It's like the physical feeling you have after vigorous exercise, but transposed to the brain. The walk back up the hill crackles with debate and discussion. Everyone has a view they are keen to share.
As the sun starts to slip behind the mist veiled mountains and the air take on its evening chill the people disperse to gather in homes, gompas, tearooms and cafes. The strings of their conversations will lengthen with the shadows long into the coming night.
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About the Author: Stephen travelled the world in 08 and 09 and actually made a few dollars with a few little tricks along the way.
Check out his advice at http://80bays.blogspot.com or follow him on twitter @80bays
Photo Credit: All photos of India by David Lee
This is a guest post by Stephen Barrett. If you want to guest post on Go Backpacking, please read more here.
As part of a larger backpacking trip around the world, Stephen Barrett had the good fortune to be in McLeod Ganj, seat of the Tibetan Government in Exile, for the first day of a series of lectures given at his residence by Tenzin Gyatzo, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama.
I wake up in The Lady's Adventure Guesthouse in the small town of Mcleod Ganj, high in the mountains of Himachal Pradesh State in northern India. It is a short walk uphill to the town's two main commercial streets to seek out breakfast. Like many westerners passing through Upper Dharamsala, I amble into Gakyi Restaurant and order momos (dim sum like veggie dumplings) and a cup of spicy ginger tea. It's a small place; the tables are close together which makes for a friendly atmosphere. The conversation around the room is polite and convivial.
" So, are you going to see the Dalai Lama today?"? I am asked matter of factly by a gentle looking Canadian guy in glasses, white kaftan and a long graying beard.
Correctly reading my blank stare as recently awoken and bewildered by his question, he kindly elaborates.
The Dalai Lama is in residence and will be giving two talks per day for the next three days. This surprise news brings me to my senses and I immediately start asking questions. I glean all the information I need from the customers of the tiny cafe, with people pitching in from every table in the place. His Holiness would indeed be giving two talks per day at the request of a Buddhist group from Singapore and the talks were open to anyone who wished to attend. They would be translated into English and broadcast live on FM radio throughout the town.
In fact the first of the talks is already underway and I realize it can be heard on the cafe's tiny transistor radio brought out especially for the occasion. There is no need to have booked months in advance or anything like that; all that is required is security clearance from the staff at the temple complex.
One thing I love about India is the way the best laid plans so often change five minutes after getting out of bed. Today will be no exception. This is too great an opportunity to miss.
There is no time to lose. I wolf my momos, drain my tea and head through the town to seek out the compound's security team. Walking through Mcleod Ganj is like nothing I have ever experienced.
The prayer wheels laid out along the side of the town's central temple face the main tourist and commercial street. This makes a quick spin of the wheels, and therefore a prayer, an almost involuntary action.
As you pass them you can't resist holding out a hand to spin them, this in turn focuses your mind on the reason behind them and there you are, meditating, just for a moment, almost by accident.
The wheels are just part of a colorful scene that constantly reminds the visitor that they are in a unique place of religious teaching and observation, yet it never overwhelms.
Perhaps this is because the practitioners too are visitors of a sort to this country, already so rich and diverse in its spirituality. Witnessing older monks barter in markets and younger ones play basketball in the grounds of a monastery, or gompa, reminds you that this is a place where spirituality, pragmatism and fun can happily co-exist.
The temple aside, Post Office Road is a mixture of small shops, cyber-cafes, treatment centers and travel agents all actively pursuing your tourist dollar. Tibetan influences are very strong with many family businesses proudly displaying the Tibetan flag. Turning to Temple Road, the other main street in the small town, things change. There is a panel of craft shops on one side with the usual phalanx of touts unashamedly cajoling tourists into splashing the cash.
To the other side there is the Lha Charitable Trust which provides training, medical assistance, clothing, and clean water to those in need in the local community. The Trust also coordinates volunteer work and it's a great place to start to get involved and connect with the local community. On the other hand it also offers the chance to learn language, traditional drawing techniques or craft skills native to Tibet.
Heading down the hill to the Tsuglagkhang Temple complex is a fascinating stroll. To the right, in the distance, there is the breathtaking view of the mountains, lower lying farmlands and lakes. Much closer to you stands a line of chaotic stalls offering everything from practical hats, gloves, pots and pans, to the more exotic hand held prayer wheels, mini cymbals, inlaid daggers and sheaths.
On the left, after the shops stuffed with counterfeit clothes and shoes there is a series of elevated pretty restaurants and hotels. Some of these would not look out of place in the middle of Soho. Western clientele recline outside, sip lattes and take advantage of a new WiFi service. The contrast between the two sides of the street is glaring. In every way except geographically, the other side of the street is a million miles away for the impoverished stall holders.
As I approach the compound entrance, the crowd intensified along with the stray dogs, hawkers and many disfigured people asking for alms. Most of these people have fingers, toes, hands or feet missing as a result of frostbite caused by the fierce conditions encountered when crossing the Himalayas from Tibet. They fled from Chinese rule, often by night, often leaving friends and family behind. The Dalai Lama himself undertook this arduous journey back in 1959 to claim exile here and so begin a new chapter in Tibetan history.
Getting into the compound is relatively straight forward, I am simply told to come back with my passport and two passport size photographs. A quick dash back to the guesthouse and a brief stop at the small shop of two young entrepreneurs with a camera and a printer sort this out. Within fifteen minutes, I return and collect my pass for the afternoon session. Now all that remains is to wait.
To be Continued...
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About the Author: Stephen travelled the world in 08 and 09 and actually made a few dollars with a few little tricks along the way.
Check out his advice at http://80bays.blogspot.com or follow him on twitter @80bays
Photo Credit: All photos of India by David Lee
Re-discover Manila and be prepared for the surprises it'll bring you.
Less than P50 is all you need to ride public transportation: be it a jeepney, FX or a bus going to Manila where fun and good times meet.
Manila is the city long forgotten by many because of the exciting, overly-secure, and posh malls of Makati.
Home to the President of the Republic, the glaring red light district and the obscure menu is also the city that never sleeps.
What once was the pride and glory of the country is now part of history books and police watch lists.
We all want a little thrill once in a while, so the next time you're planning a vacation, plan a trip to Manila.
Here's a roundup of cool things to do in the metro area.
Manila is a beautiful city that boasts arts, leisure, and entertainment.
Erected with numerous landmarks like the National Museum, the Planetarium, Luneta Park, and Manila Zoo amongst others.
A short trip will do good for your head, so you can start brushing up again on your knowledge of history and science.
Part of any experience in Manila is the gorgeous sunset of Manila Bay.
World-famous for its harbor view, one can experience the tossing of the day and night in the benches while you enjoying your "sopdrink" in plastic and old-style "mamon."
At night, Manila turns into a throbbing district littered with anything that screams good times, fueled with a display of electric light shows from the many bars, massage parlors, saunas, and clubs.
Walking in the streets of Malate is a treat as it is the real heart of Manila nightlife. Local and foreign restaurants offer the real food for the gods, the ultimate Pinoy Inuman combo of Pork Sisig, and San Miguel beer.
Manila's natural sound may be annoying to some, but for many of its foreign lurkers, it is the perfect key to the culture.
One can find the best cover singers of Matt Monroe and Elvis Presley in the spirit of popular live acoustic bars, or maybe one can listen to new Manila sound of OPM chill out music as you navigate the streets of Orosa and Nakpil.
Manila at night isn't just about listening to music, it's about creating some.
The most popular hobby at this side of the metro is the pinoy star dreamer in all of us, so be prepared to sing you favorite anthem, be it "Lak-Lak" or if you're the moody type, maybe some Air Supply and Barry Manilow.
Food in Manila is unlike anywhere else in the world. It's unique, flavorful, and definitely not for the fainthearted.
Manila offers the most absurd, and surprisingly most sumptuous, local delicacy anyone will ever taste.
Balut and Penoy are for tourists. Western food has finally hit the core market of Manila.
Forget about paying P300 for a plate of pasta in a fine dining restaurant, and head to the Quiapo market along Villalobos and order a single serving of sweet-style spaghetti and palabok.
Plus, you can order crispy Fried Chicken with wings at less than P50.
One may also discover the secret hub for Chinese food lovers in a place called Estero in Binondo for huge servings of Mami, lomi and pancit at dirt cheap prices.
If the pressure of designer living in the city center has taken its toll on you, head to Manila where you can feel the spirit of luxury living for a fraction of your peso.
Manila, where every visit seems like the first time. Cheers Panyero!
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About the Author: The author currently lives in Manila, has traveled around South East Asia but always finds himself going back to his roots, roaming the streets of this enigmatic and one of a kind city, and finding the pleasure that is innate in a city like no other. He narrates his journeys in his blog called Pinoy Boy Journals www.jerik76raverz.blogspot.com
I spent a full afternoon cruising through floating villages to arrive in Battambang. It was here that my motorbike guide gave me his first hand account of living through the Khmer Rouge genocide, and later invited me to eat dinner with his family. In the most unassuming, and seemingly random location, I had several of my most memorable moments of the whole trip around the world.
The kindness of strangers can have that kind of an affect on a traveler.
I raced around Egypt in December 2008 as I only had 11 days before my onward flight to Brussels.
It was enough time to see all the major sites, and while I had tour guides for them all, I can't remember a single thing they said. And I didn't think I would.
Instead, I focused on taking photos.
For those of you who thought siestas were only for people working in Spain, you've obviously never worked in Sichuan before. Indeed, each day my microfinance organization has between 12 PM and 3 PM off for lunch, and a good xiuxi, or rest. This is the kind of thing that you don't learn in your Chinese class, and the reason that working in a foreign office is fun.
Here are some of the things I've found most amusing, note-worthy, or frustrating about working in an all-Chinese office in the countryside of Sichuan:
1. I have yet to meet someone in China who does not have a QQ name. QQ is basically their instant messaging program, but it also has features that resemble Twitter or Facebook applications, all rolled into one. Most noteworthy is that one of these games is a garden-growing game that I've seen people of all ages play. It's basically like a tamagatchi (blast from the past) game where you simply water the garden and plant things. No winning, no losing, and no noticeable fun, yet everyone in my office has one. For the really hip, there is also a fish version-- you feed them, they swim around, and yeah, that's all that happens. I mean, I've wasted my share of time on my RSS feed and I know others use Twitter-- I guess since those things are blocked (in China), fake fish are the next logical option...
2. One of my coworkers brings me presents of fruit most days. Lovely tradition-- everyone enjoys getting an apple, an orange, or a really large pomelo on their desk on a Monday morning. True? True.
3. Every office phone has a popular song as its ring tone, and each one goes off about 5 seconds after the first one. A cacophony of Chinese pop. Not really the professional, quiet demeanor I've seen offices strive for in the US, but it certainly does make you answer the phone more quickly. People positively run to answer them to stop the madness.
4. Sometimes our power goes out-- probably not that surprising for rural China. However, one time when it went out my office went on what can only be described as a field trip. We piled into the little buses that run out of our town, and went to watch the villagers nearby do a dance performance. It's still not clear to me if this performance was because we had a power outage, or if it was scheduled beforehand (see what I mean about not quite getting it all?) but either way, it was hilarious. They knew so many line dances, I half expected to see the macarena. In fact, maybe I should teach them the macarena...
5. It's probably about 35 degrees here, yet all the windows in all of the offices are open. Why? Because of some combination of feng shui (we need the qi flowing) and H.E.N.E (that's what it sounds like if you pronounce H1N1 in Chinese-- yi in Chinese is one) fears. As a result everyone clusters around the heaters in the room, which are open flames. Seriously. The heaters are gas fed and they could all double as cooking devices if you just put a pot on top of them. The combined silliness of gathering around a heater when the windows are wide open and there is a safety hazard of a flame in the middle of the room never fail to amuse this laowai (foreigner).
Boracay Island is undoubtedly the number one tourist destination in the Philippines.
Often called "the best beach in the world" by locals and foreigners, this island lies in the pristine region of Panay in the province of Aklan in the Visayan region.
How To Get There
Traveling is cheap in the country by Western standards so if you're a foreigner and you want to go here, fly my friend.
As of late, there are no direct flights from anywhere in Asia, so you have to leave from the capital city Manila.
From Manila to Boracay, flying is best advised. You have two choices.
One: Manila to Kalibo
Two: Manila to Caticlan
Airline companies in the Philippines with routes to Boracay Island include the following:
Getting Around the Island
Once you've arrived in the Caticlan airport, hire a tricycle/multi-cab for about P15-25 that's half-cent a dollar you're in the jetty port.
If you're traveling alone, you don't need to pay any more tax, just the boat ride. If you're going in a group, you need to pay a fee of a few dollars.
A few years back, tourists, islanders, and heck everyone was dropped off right at the white sand beach of Boracay.
Now everyone is dropped off at the back of the island along the paved roads. Here they hire another tricycle to get to anywhere in the three stations of Boracay. Don't worry; it takes less than 15 minutes.
Station 1: This station is where big bets stay. Resorts and hotels here are far more expensive than in the other stations.
The big names such as Fridays, Cocomangas, the newly built Discovery Shores, and the Shangrila Hotel are littered north of the island.
Station 2: This station is where I stay most of the time. There are loads of resorts to stay at like Red Coconut, among others.
What's cool about this station is it's in the center of everything happening. Lots of restaurants, eateries, the mall is here, and of course for me, still the number one bar/club in Boracay, "Hey Jude."
Station 3: This station is on the far south of the island.
Forgive me for the lack of a better term, but this side is Class-C, where locals frequent a couple of inns, huts, hotels and resorts, and their foreign boyfriends.
If you're like me, a guy who can go anywhere and doesn't care much, I strongly advise you to visit those at the back of the beach.
Some rooms are cheaper because they're not located on the beachfront, as if a 2-minute walk is such a pain.
As for me, I always stay in Seabird International Hotel. It's in station two at the back of the Red Coconut Hotel.
I like the location because its near the beach, near "Hey Jude," and near the mall. So I can get drunk and not worry about long walks.
Food is quite expensive if you eat at those fancy looking restaurants with buffets and seafood galore.
Try the back of the mall where there are bluefish, a couple of grilles, or you can go for fast food at Andoks.
A hearty meal shouldn't cost you more than $4. Walk around at night and try to scout out a party. They tend to change locations. Some bars/clubs have events.
As of late, there's Juice Bar, Cocomangas, and heaps of other drink out places. I happen to find my spot right in "Hey Jude."
Friendly people, efficient bartenders, excellent DJs, and an atmosphere you cannot find anywhere else.
So you've successfully landed on arguably the best beach in the world. Tap on the back, my friend.
Even if everyone is saying Boracay is overrated, it's nothing compared to, let's say, Phuket or Krabi.
Boracay is like a small kid who is wandering around in his pubescent youth - searching for something, making friends, making out.
Where To Go Out At Night
Boracay is a sleepless island. Twenty-four hours a day, there's always something going on.
You have to know where the smoke is, and a fire must be burning. There are a couple of bars/discotheques around stations 1-2-3.
But mostly eateries, restaurants, and cafes are sprouted across the white beach. I'll let you in on a secret, walk.
Walk around north to south, and for sure, you will find a spot you like. Whether you are a romantic, the quiet type, or a party animal, there's a place for everyone.
I want to suggest a couple of places I like. Have a drink, make friends, don't swim in the waters (or maybe you can), don't mind the exhibitionists on the beach if you come across one.
And of course, Hey Jude.
I like the place a lot. I've been going there since I can't remember when.
It's a place where DJ's play outstanding house music, where waiters talk to you when you're traveling alone, where people cheer you with their drinks, where you can be crazy because its free to do so, but mostly the ambiance is impeccable.
There's something about the set-up that makes you feel at home, in a far-away tropical beach. That's Hey Jude. Vodka Red Bulls, Rum 'n Cokes, San Miguel Light. What is there not to like.
If you like Koh Pha Ngan, Thailand, my friends... this is like his little brother, a paradise with good vibes and awesome beats.
Not many people, no twenty thousand worshipers for the Full Moon Party, no peeing punks on the beach, no f**k buckets, we have San Miguel. Good clean fun. Mostly.
And of course, the beach here is incomparable. If you're lucky enough to survive the night without passing out, try to wait for the sun to rise, the beach is cest' magnificique.
The water is greener. Sand is whiter. The sky is bluer. And your face will light up because you know you've found paradise in the Philippines.
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Beach chair image by http://www.flickr.com/photos/ple101/ / CC BY 2.0
I have a few opinions on travel: one should learn some historical background to understand the culture of today, one should try their best to speak the native language as to not "lose things in translation," and one should never expect a place or its people to adjust to one's own way of life.
For as seemingly inconvenient and ridiculous in the eyes of an American, many customs are just that, customs of one beautiful and distinct culture, and should be approached with an open mind.
Chuck Thompson is a native Alaskan, the former and first editor in chief of Travelocity magazine, a travel guru (according to his publisher), and the author of Smile When You're Lying, and most recently, To Hellholes and Back. And his travel opinions most likely differ greatly from my own.
I am making this assumption from personal experience as I had the pleasure of hearing him speak on January 21st at my university while he was in the midst of his book tour around our "great country with a real screwed up foreign policy."
Immediately I was struck by his casual, laid-back demeanor.
I found him to be strongly opinionated, fearless in how he would be perceived as a result of this, and finally, wickedly entertaining as he led us through a book reading and answers to audience members' questions.
Would I want to read his books, however? Probably not, too tongue-in-cheek for me.
But I'll let you make your own decision, of course.
He was inspired to write To Hellholes and Back by the concept of extreme tourism.
To most, he says, images of million-dollar space trips, and grass-huts in rural Asia come to mind, but to him, extreme tourism could lead you anywhere, so as long as you are taken outside of your comfort zone.
And so he made a list, a long list of places that he was intimidated by, had prejudices against, and would never in a million years want to travel to: The Congo, India, Mexico City, and Disney World.
To him, the Congo was the sum of all African fears, the heart of darkness as described by Joseph Conrad.
He found the idea of India to be surrounded by the paranoia of economic fears, terrorist threats, and the horror stories of friends.
Mexico City was controversial in the midst of a heated immigration debate and the capital of Latin American drug lords.
And Disney World, oh Disney World, combined all the pains of traveling, in his opinion, with the glory of "dumb animated figures in a stupid and juvenile environment" alongside bratty children.
What he found, was that countries are a lot like people in high school, 90% of what you think is hearsay.
He then spent six weeks in the Congo, 31 days in India, five weeks in Mexico City, and seven days in Disney World (he claimed to not have been able to handle any longer of a stay).
He did thorough pre-trip research, took endless amounts of notes, and met multiple people like Ahri in Africa who, "turned out to be as much of an experience as the country itself."
And then, after many months of writing and re-writing, his second book, To Hellholes and Back, was published.
It is described by Jaunted.com as "well-written, funny, and fast paced."
They say that "it's refreshing to read a travel writer who eschews all the "sun-dappled vista'-style prose and tells it like it is."
Surely they have met Chuck Thompson because according to him, that is what his book is all about.
"You can only describe sunsets and food for so long, what really brings a country to life is people."
Thinking about planning an Appalachian Trail thru-hike -- that 2,174-mile footpath between Springer Mountain, Georgia, and Maine's Mt. Katahdin?
Great! I highly recommend the journey, which was one of my life's most soul-satisfying, difficult, wonderful, uncomfortable, inspiring, tiring, exhilarating, challenging, and fun experiences.
I'm quite the anal planner, and I started my Appalachian Trail thru-hike adventure well before passing the first white blaze by attempting to plan every day of it.
Once I decided to fulfill my dream, I set out the pens, notebooks, books, and calendar. I made lists and more lists and began scheduling to the max. I'd hike 15 miles this day and stay at that campsite or lean-to. I'd send a maildrop with pre-purchased food to such-n-such a town, where I'd arrive on a particular date.
Then, one day, I tossed the whole thing. Sure, planning is good practice, even if you scrap the entire kit and kaboodle before putting any of those best-laid plans to the test. After all, the process can teach you much about what you're setting out to do and help avoid potential problems just by the knowledge and awareness you'll gain.
See also: Walking Nepal's Great Himalaya Trail
At the same time, it's almost impossible to plan for every situation, whim, and factor beyond your control. This is especially true when talking about roughly six months of backpacking through 14 states, six national parks, eight national forests, and more than 400 named peaks.
Most people who try to stick to a schedule on the Appalachian Trail fail or find it too confining and illogical within the first few weeks, if not the first few days. And many thru-hikers who pre-pack maildrops find they're sick of certain foods in no time and leave much of their maildrop contents in hiker donation boxes or, unfortunately, trash cans.
There are, however, certain things you can plan for and count on when setting out for an end-to-end Appalachian Trail thru-hike (or even a long section), regardless of which direction you hike, your experience level, or what Mother Nature and other forces lay in your path.
Table of Contents
Follow your heart and sometimes your whims. Drop your pack and sun yourself on that warm slab of rock. Take ten to take in the view. Make that dip in the cool mountain stream.
Get that burger and big salad you've daydreamed about for the past few days as you rehydrate your dinners. Don't pass up the chance to do what tickles your fancy to stay on some predetermined schedule.
A change in the weather? A sore foot that's giving you grief that day? Whatever it may be--something physical that's bugging you, someone you want to continue hiking with who doesn't want to go as far on a particular day, a stretch of trail more difficult than you'd expected--it's okay to bend.
Do fewer miles than you may have expected to cover, or maybe no miles at all. Or, occasionally, hike a few more miles if you're up to it.
Yes, you'll get chilled, at least for short periods, till you can retreat to your sleeping bag or put on those extra layers. As long as you're prepared for it, though, and don't leave out vital insulation because it is warm while packing and trying to go ultra-light, you should handle the cold just fine.
And plan to be that way for days at a time. Embrace the sweat dripping into your eyes and off the tip of your nose. Be one with your body odor and that of other thru-hikers who come anywhere near. Just don't short yourself on water.
Take a siesta during the hottest part of the day, and hike early and late. Take a bandanna bath or use a refreshing wet wipe when you get to where you'll camp. Just think about how cold you've sometimes been and enjoy the heat!
There's nothing like hiking in a downpour or sloshing through the mud for miles, and you'll undoubtedly do both on an A.T. thru-hike.
So, keep a spare set of clothing deep in your pack in a big Zip-Lock baggie or a garbage bag or Sil-nylon stuff sack, so you know you'll have something dry to put on when you're finished hiking for the day.
It's comforting to know the dry and at least somewhat cleaner clothes are in there, not to mention a physical relief when it's time to put them on.
Breaking in boots before hitting the trail will certainly help, but I haven't met a single thru-hiker who has not experienced blisters, bunions, a multi-colored toenail or two (if not the whole set), or just plain ol' foot pain during the trek. But sore feet show-and-tell is a great way to bond with your fellow hikers.
It's not just the feet. Maybe you'll get some cool chafing from your backpack, clothing, or even skin rubbing against your skin for hours.
Your back and neck might ache, especially if you're not used to carrying a full pack for eight or twelve hours a day and sleeping on hard, uneven ground or the planks of a shelter floor. And the knees--even with trekking poles, your knees will be tested. You'll perfect the art of the "hiker hobble."
Lightning, bears, boogie monsters, oh my! Rattlesnakes and copperheads don't let you know they're there until you almost step on them. The occasional bit of terrain gives you the willies. Or maybe that was just me?
But it's a good kind of tired-an "I lived today" kind of tired. It's a twenty-miles-on-my-feet-up-and-down-five-mountains-today kind of tired. I loved it! And if you enjoy physically putting yourself to the test as I do, you'll love it, too.
Even things that aren't ordinarily funny will probably be funny, like being filthy, soaked, and smelling like rotten peaches. There are lots of things to laugh at about life on the trail. So laugh and laugh often.
Be here, now, on the Appalachian Trail. Hiking a long-distance trail is a chance to slow down and suck the juice out of life.
If you want to be alone, you can find solitude. But the friendships are out there if you want them. It doesn't matter who you are, where you're from, whether you're shy or outgoing, or your background.
The shared experience of hiking the Appalachian Trail creates a bond that surpasses most differences that otherwise might make a difference off the trail.
It just gets under your skin--the fresh air, the sheer physical exertion, the camaraderie with others who walk with packs on their backs. That 2,174-mile footpath, marked with 165,000 painted white blazes as it winds, climbs, and descends from Georgia to Maine, has a way of grabbing hold of your psyche and heart and not letting go.
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About the Author: Deb Lauman, the long-distance backpacker known as "Ramkitten," is also a writer and a member of a Search and Rescue Team based in Flagstaff, Arizona. You can read about her SAR experiences at Deb's Search & Rescue Stories.
Deb will be spending three months in Nepal, learning about the country's only rescue squad so she can write a book about them and the many lives they've touched. Learn more about the Himalaya Rescue Dog Squad Nepal Book Project on Kickstarter.
Today I am excited to announce the launch of Travel Blog Success, a new website and community aimed at helping travelers build successful blogs, whether they measure that success in terms of readers or revenue.
In 2009, my travel blog success resulted in online earnings of more than $10,000, plus I was offered a paid blogging trip to Colombia.
I don't say these things to brag. I say them to encourage other travelers to join me in taking advantage of the shifting media landscape.
How It Works
Travel Blog Success is an online course consisting of 12 lessons, covering essential topics such as picking a smart domain name, building an engaged audience, SEO, and how to make money online (hint: Google AdSense is old news).
Unlike other "how-to" sites and eBooks, this program addresses issues unique to travel blogging, such as mobile technology, and blogging while always on the move in foreign countries.
Travel Blog Success includes an exclusive Blog where additional tips and podcasts with subject matter experts are posted regularly.
To kick off the audio interview series, I spoke with Mike, Editor of Vagabondish.com, about the importance of web design to a travel blog's success.
To ensure every member has direct access to me, plus a way to ask questions, network with others travel bloggers, and collaborate, there is a Forum. I invited a few veteran travel blogger friends to join us there.
I'm offering a super-low introductory rate for the first 100 members who join.
After that, a price increase is likely because I want to ensure I can continue to offer personal support to everyone who joins.
By the way, the membership comes with a 60-day money-back guarantee.
Early Reviews
When you join, we'll start working together immediately to improve your travel blog.
If you have any questions, please leave a comment below, or send me a private message (via the contact form). I'll get back to you promptly.
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PS - I'd really appreciate it if you can help me get the word out, either by sharing this post or a link directly to Travel Blog Success (http://travelblogsuccess.com) on your favorite social media sites, such as Twitter, Facebook, StumbleUpon, or your blog.
January 28, 2010 - Washington, DC
On another crisp Winter eve, the DC travel blogging/writing community came together for drinks at Cafe Asia.
This time, I was armed with more than just my Blackberry's camera, though I learned a few people want a bright flash in their eyes at a trendy sushi bar.
Next time, Kelsey, one of the pro photographers that joined us, offered to bring her camera.
Speaking of Kelsey, she told me about a cool crowdsourcing and journalism project she's working on called The Mongolian Experiment.
I'm sure you're going to hear more about it as she ramps up, and it's just the sort of idea that reminded me of Chris Guillebeau's non-conformist approach to living and working.
Another new attendee and professional photographer was Abram, who just moved to the District from Pennsylvania.
He's looking to break out of the wedding niche and take the travel world by storm.
He reminded me of Jen Lemen, as both had been to Rwanda to take photos.
It was great to see Julia and Adam again, both of whom I met at a World Hum happy hour last Fall (which was part of the inspiration for organizing these travel tweetups).
They're a great comedy duo - bouncing playful insults off of one another like siblings.
Julia's been working as the web editor for the World Bank while Adam continues to represent Lonely Planet on the guidebook front.
Sonia was there, and she may very well have been the first person I met through Couchsurfing back in 2007.
Molly was there again, and very excited for the upcoming launch of my new membership site, Travel Blog Success (Feb 1).
And Derek was all aglow with his future plans to leave on a 12-month trip around the world in the Spring.
Sandi was struggling a bit with the idea of heading down a completely different path to join him, so I made sure to encourage her!
The Rollcall
Thanks to everyone for coming out and making this another great event.
And a special thanks to Sisarina for the unique Twitter nametags.
We'll keep you posted on the next one in late February!
After bonding with several backpackers during the bumpy bus ride from Bangkok to Siem Reap, Cambodia, we set about exploring the various temples together.
The top 3 are Angkor Wat, Bayon, and Ta Prohm.
Then, if you've still got the energy, you can bicycle or tuk-tuk around to the smaller, lesser visited sites.
But, it doesn't take a person long to get templed out though.
Siem Reap was also my first taste of delicious Cambodian cuisine.
As it's the tourist hot spot, there are plenty of foodie options, from local markets to nicer restaurants, and surely more upscale ones in the 5-star hotels that are a little further outside the city center.
I knew when I packed to move to China for half a year that I only wanted to bring one backpack, assuming that at some point I'd want to be mobile for backpacking.
Plus, you can't take the cheap buses to and from airports if you have to lug a lot of luggage-- and I have a total and complete aversion to the cost of cabs, even when they are cheap in China.
So, here's how to pack one backpack for six months of travel.
First, bring the things you can't buy in China (outside of an expensive expat-oriented grocery store, which only exists in the big cities): razors, tampons, deodorant, and Western medicine.
Seriously-- none of those exist in my small town at all. To all those who are curious-- yes, there is a market for deodorant here that's going untapped. The people here also have BO, they just seem less concerned about it than we do in the US. So pack two Old Spices or Secret cause you're not going to find it here.
Don't pack toothpaste, shampoo, face wash, loofahs, etc.-- even Qtips are readily available here, so as long as you can shake your brand loyalties, you can find those things in abundance and quite cheaply.
I personally traded in Pantene Pro-V (which you can find here at a reasonable price) for Jake Chan's Anti-Falling Shampoo (maybe they mean anti-balding?) and Israel Locks Conditioner (which I take to mean " good for curly hair!"?).
Speaking of buying locally, if you are moving to a cold climate, as I did, I recommend you buy some of your cold weather items here. Why bother to pack gloves, a coat, and boots, since they take up a ton of space, when you can buy them?
I am proudly sporting a pair of fingerless gloves (5 RMB), a coat (90 RMB), and a pair of boots that kind of look like space shoes (40 RMB). For those keeping track at home, this means I was winter-outfitted for $20. I admit, I had little choice on the shoes because I have bigger feet than most Chinese, and my coat is a XXXL (ugh. I feel huge in this country) and the zipper leaves something to be desired, at times, but hey. Good deals abound.
Other than that, here are the three smartest items I packed:
Most of the other things I brought are quite standard, but when in doubt, assume that it's available in China. I probably didn't need that umbrella since one here would be $1. Why did I pack a large Nalgene from the States, which takes up an annoying amount of space on the airplane and can't even have liquid? That's available here cheaply. Oops. But hey, you live, you learn.
What I've mostly learned is that next time I travel, I need a Kindle-- running out of books in rural China means that you'd better learn to read characters. Fast.
Fire dancing is synonymous with the beach party scene in Thailand. I didn't encounter it on the fairly sedate Chaweng Beach of Koh Samui, however it was a nightly occurrence once I reached the Full Moon Party beach, Haad Rin, on Koh Phangan.
Even though I was seeing these guys almost every night at some points, it never got old. And it was a lot of fun to increase the exposure on my camera and try to capture the motion and trails of the fire.
This is a guest post by Suzy Guese. If you want to guest post on Go Backpacking, please read more here.
Set in southwestern Sardinia, Costa Verde or " the Green Coast," could be mistaken for the Emerald Isle rather than Italy for its land and sea shades of jade. As my toy-car sized rental car follows the coast, it feels as though this cobalt blue power engine with tires smaller than my head is the first car to cover this road.
I continue to drive, with no destination, no landmark I heard I must see, because frankly not many people know about Sardinia's Costa Verde. To the right, lush green hills surround, so green they might make a leprechaun jealous. I notice a sign with a small temple image pointing to the right, almost beckoning me to follow. Without a plan, my wheels crunch against some gravel and I head east.
I reach Tempio di Anatas, about 20km north of the city of Iglesias. I guess this will be my plan for the next half hour. I follow a path out to a lone temple. Isolation surrounds. There are no hints at civilization or people. A simple temple merely blends into the scenery of the Mountain of Conca 'e s'Omu.
The ruined temple spans 2,000 years. It was the Romans though in 3 A.D. that attempted to glorify the structure. The temple was dedicated to Sardus Pater, considered the son of Hercules and colonizer of the island.
These ruins allow me to rest my feet on their limestone blocks, gazing east. No voices, cars, planes or trains can be heard. All I can hear are my own thoughts. I have found a destination when I thought I had no plan.
Seeing these ruins creates a sensation in me, a craving to explore more of this mystical, isolated and seemingly deserted Costa Verde. I begin to wonder, if Costa Verde's land lends such inspiration, I can only imagine how its waters must feel.
I jump back on the main road and my next destination calls my name with a little brown sign. An understated and simple brown marking says " Scivu" with waves drawn next to its text. I just found the water element.
The road guides me west, narrow and curvy. At one point it looks as though the path will drop off into the sea. Once again my toy car takes on the persona of a covered wagon, pioneer in that no one follows me and no one appears in front of me. I can see the turquoise and green waters now, but several obstacles lie in front of me: goats, hordes and hordes of goats. The clown horn honks and the goats disperse. I am, after all, impatient when a destination calls.
Finally, I reach what must be Scivu, as sand, sky and water meet the road's end. Sand dunes cover the way down to the Scivu beach. The decent is somewhat steep in flip-flops, but I march on with determination as though I am wearing big, burly hiking boots. A lone bright orange tent camps out below, just before a sandstone coral-colored cliff interrupts the continuation of water and sand. The sand is unbelievably fine and creamy, something I would imagine the sands of the Sahara to resemble.
I manage not to fall, and reach the main part of the beach. Aside from those bright campers, a handful of people take in the sun farther down the shoreline. However, for around 200 feet, I am completely alone.
The waves start to crash, hinting that swimming may be a little rough. Apparently Scivu's waters are ideal for surfing. If only I learned surfing at college in California instead of Italian. It is crystal clear what the rough waters are telling me. Clouds build and I think the fated weather calls me to leave my second destination.
I discover after visiting those solitary ruins and waters of Costa Verde why it is called " the green coast." Jealousy overwhelms when you realize you cannot take any of this home. Scivu and the Temple of Anatas belong to the Costa Verde and no one else. Everyone must leave, or face the green-eyed monster. That envy keeps solo travelers on its grounds only for moments, so that another traveler can experience that isolation next.
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About the Author: Suzy Guese is a travel writer based in Denver, Colorado. Travel has always been an integral part of her life with family vacations at a young age and her year in college studying abroad in Florence, Sicily, and Sorrento. Find out more about Suzy by following her on Twitter or reading suzyguese.com, where she takes readers physically or mentally around the world with a red-headed temperament.
Country: Malaysia
Entry Point: Rail System coming from Singapore to Malaysia.
Exit Point: Rail system from Butterworth to Surat Thani, Thailand.
When: I'll be arriving on the 15th of April and will be spending a total of ten nights in Malaysia.
Looking Forward to: I'm planning for Kuala Lumpur to be my first experience with couchsurfing in Southeast Asia. It will be a big advantage for me as I'll only be spending a small amount of time in Malaysia, and staying with a local will allow me to engage with Malay culture.
I'll be spending my birthday in Taman Negara. Taman Negara literally translates to "National Park" and is the world's oldest tropical rainforest. I love the outdoors so Taman Negara will be right up my alley. My birthday present to myself will be to go fishing in the park, hopefully I don't get skunked. The park is also host to the world's longest suspension walking bridge, which is suspended up to 40m above the forest floor.
Malaysia is a predominately Muslim country with two sets of laws, one for Muslims and one for non-Muslims. It'll be my first experience with a Muslim country, and I want to try and focus on this when I visit. Currently, there is tension between religious groups, and churches have been fire-bombed this week. Hopefully this will settle down before I arrive. Islamic culture will be my focus when I'm in Malaysia.
Not Looking forward to: I know I will feel rushed in Malaysia as I only have a small amount of time in which to experience this country, and as a result, I will miss almost everything. Its a necessary evil if I want to make my deadline for the Full Moon Party in Thailand. I'll have to focus on the important things to get enough out of my time in Malaysia.
Even though its a big tourist attraction, I can't wait to see and photograph the Petronas Towers at night. Every shot I've seen of the buildings looks absolutely fabulous.
Notes: If it wasn't for me starting in Singapore to visit a travel buddy, I would never have considered Malaysia. It simply wasn't on my radar. That said, I'm extremely pleased that I will be visiting and I can't wait to experience my first Islamic country.
Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand are linked by an excellent and modern rail system. I won't be fulfilling my dream of riding on the top of a train here, but it will allow me to see more of Malaysia then if I had to rely on buses. Without it, I would experience even less.
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Photo Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/stuckincustoms/ / CC BY-SA 2.0
This is a guest post by Aaron and Georgie. If you want to guest post on Go Backpacking, please read more here.
In August 2008 my partner and I (Georgina) were backpacking around northern Vietnam and stopped for a while in the beautiful mountain town of Sapa. Our budget room had the look and feel of an old alpine cottage with infinite views of the surrounding mountain scenery. We quickly realized we'd found something very special, one of the most romantic places we'd been on our travels so far.
While we sat on the balcony, drinking morning coffees and taking in the million dollar view (or seven as the case may be) the conversation turned to how we should fill our time in such a beautiful place, that's when cracks began to show.
Georgie had her heart set on a seven hour bus ride to a remote and rural weekend market in a town called Bac Ha, filled with visions of Flower H'mong hill-tribe people - the " real"? Vietnam maybe, Georgie was as keen as mustard. I on the other hand wasn't. I had already been dragged around every market in Southeast Asia, all I could think about were the practicalities of getting there, the poor roads and sweaty buses for seven long and bumpy hours.
At that point in our idyllic mountain cabin, we realised the real issue had nothing to do with the market, it was something which had been simmering under the surface for weeks. Somehow we'd grown apart as lovers, constantly finding ourselves in intense situations and always being around each other. We had become better friends than we could've ever hoped but with all the highs and lows that come with traveling foreign and unfamiliar places we'd forgotten to make time just for us.
The problem was that we didn't adapt our relationship the same way we had to adapt every other aspect of our lives. Romantic moments on perfect beaches and going out for candle lit dinners soon became the norm. More than that, they became part of our every day life. It was naive to think that our relationship would take care of itself while we took care of having the time of our lives.
When traveling as a couple it's important to remember there are three agendas, not two. His, Hers and Theirs. We had to treat our relationship like a third person that has a third set of needs, not get an extra bed put in the room or carry a third backpack but make time for it during the day. Even the environment can come between a relationship while traveling - dirty rooms, travel sickness, tropical heat, single beds, cultural taboos and the sometimes lack of personal hygiene all redefine a relationship but it's ignorance to this which causes friction.
We calmed down and soon saw that it was just something we simply hadn't prepared for that had gotten carried away. We'd managed to fit everything we'd need for our trip into our backpacks and assumed our relationship would slot neatly in there too. In the end I gave in, we went to Bac Ha and I loved it. That's how we do things these days, if one of us wants to do something then we both do it, no questions or compromises and no moaning. Everyone needs a push to do something they wouldn't normally do sometimes, after all aren't new places, new people and experiences what traveling is really about.
We have been traveling the world for over two years now, we've seen things that neither of us will ever forget. We have lived our dream! It's been a constant learning curve but traveling as a couple has only improved both our experiences. It means we don't just have pictures of beaches and temples, but of each other - in these beautiful places, we have the luxury of being able to talk our way into a solution rather than worry about a problem.
We've seen each others true colors shine through the amplified situations and shared everything...
Nothing gives meaning to a moment or a place like being able to share it with someone you love.
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About the Author: Aaron and Georgie have been traveling the world since April 2008. We sold everything so we could backpack around the world on a budget and we share it all on our travel site http://Happytimeblog.co.uk ...Mucho Mucho LOVE Come Join In (@happytimeblog on Twitter)
I'm beyond excited to see that Go Backpacking is one of the five finalists for Best Travel Weblog, and Medellin Living is one of the finalists for Best Latin American Weblog in the 10th Annual Weblog Awards (aka the 2010 bloggies)!
Please head over to 2010.bloggies.com to vote for both this week. You do not need to vote for any other blogs to submit your ballot. The deadline for voting is Sunday, January 31st at 10 PM, EST.
Both blogs became a team effort in 2009, so I speak for all of the regular and guest contributors when I say "thank you for your support!"
Special Announcement Tomorrow - January 25
Tomorrow morning at 9 AM (EST), I'm announcing a brand new website unlike any other the travel blogging community has today.
Stay tuned!
I wrapped up my first two months in Thailand with an impromptu trip to Koh Tao, before returning to Bangkok for a few final Singhas.
Next up, we're heading east to explore Cambodia.
This is part 2 of a 2-part photo essay.
In late November 2008, I embarked upon a 5-day safari of Kruger National Park in South Africa.
My camera was a standard point-and-shoot, Canon Digital IXUS 860 IS (aka PowerShot).
I went on a game drive at night, however aside from a few snakes and an elephant, I don't recall it being too exciting.
A hyena would visit our camp at night, as evidenced by glowing eyes in the darkness, as it patrolled its territory. A chain link fence was all that separated us tourists from its bone-crunching jaws.
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Photo Credit: All photos are by David Lee, and may not be used without express written consent.
This is a guest post by Rose Witmer (text) and Michael Lynch (photos). If you want to guest post on Go Backpacking, please read more here.
The Naha Festival is host to one of the largest celebrations on Okinawa, Japan. The usual bustle and traffic of highway 58, which cuts through Okinawa's capitol city, is shut down as tens of thousands gather in the streets around an enormous rice straw rope.
Everyone is chatting with excitement of the battle to come. Cameras are raised high above the crowd as the user stands on tip-toe in hopes of capturing the spectacular scene. Suddenly a gong rings out.
Attention turns toward the two lengths of the rope where figures in traditional dress of the kings of the Ryukyu Kingdom era are carried on a wooden platform by four men. The platforms of the East and West stop and the Kings bow. Then each king readies their weapon of choice and a battle is acted out between both sides. It ends in a draw. The Kings withdraw and everyone prepares for the beginning of the main event.
Men climb on top of the rope and the crowd closes in, taking hold of the many extended lines of rope. Where East and West meet, high above the crowd a solid gold ball hangs from a crane at the top level of a tall downtown building. Eyes watch the ball intently and the throng waits in hushed anticipation. Suddenly, it breaks open and streamers and confetti of every color twist down to the masses below. This is the signal. The war has begun.
The preparation for the event begins long before the day of the tug of war, which is held the weekend of the Japanese National Sports holiday. Rice straw from the year's harvest is collected and woven into thicker sections, which are then woven together into two 100 meter halves. Over 200 smaller ropes are then woven into the main piece for the 20,000 plus participants to grab on to and use to pull the main rope in the center. During the event, both halves will be connected by a long, sturdy log made of dense wood.
In the end, the rope will span several blocks of the island's capitol and will stand taller than most cars. It will wait in place of Highway 58's median until the day of the festival when the roads are shut down and cars are replaced by thousands of people waiting for the battle to begin. In 1997 the Guinness Book of World Records made this 200 meter, 43 ton rope made of natural materials as an addition to their collection of record-breaking entries.
The Naha tug of war festival dates back to the 17th Century Ryukyu Kingdom. During these times it was used to predict the coming year's fortune as well as pray for rain, a healthy and abundant harvest, and thank the gods for the fortune in the years prior. Then, the festival would kick off with four main villages demonstrating their strength and skill during Hatagashira, a type of competitive dance with tall poles bearing their village's symbol.
Today, the competition involves many more groups in addition to the four original villages. As they parade down the street each dancer balances these seven to ten meter poles in a thick bundle of cloth tied around their waist and use their legs to lunge the 40 to 50 kilogram pole in the air before catching it again. This difficult task can become tiring. The dancer's teammates surround him at all times holding long rods with hooked ends ready to catch the pole should it fall. Several others wait to step in to continue if the dancer needs to rest.
Amongst the sounds of the crowds and competition, the full, low tones of conch shells accompanied by the Sanshin, a three-stringed instrument shaped like a small banjo and covered in snake skin, float through the air. The deep fog-horn like call of the shells and the twang of the strings blending smoothly with the booming of drums and lively shouts of celebration in the Okinawan language. Dancers kick their legs up high and spin with drums hanging from their shoulders in the traditional Ryukyuan Eisa dance. Among the music of the old kingdom, many dojos of all forms of martial arts scattered throughout the southern region of Okinawa will take advantage of this celebration to showcase the talents of their style at different levels.
Amidst the growing air of anticipation, this parade of Hatagashira, Eisa, and Karate leads to a crowd of tens of thousands of people in the center of the city. Here friendly and excited crowds of people move toward the rope and ready their cameras as the main performances are brought to center stage. The contest of strength and skill with the competing villages' hatagashira begins, followed by Karate demonstrations by each school's Sensei, or master, while conch shells are blown and drums are beaten. These are all events leading up to the grand finale, the tug of war. After the battle between the King of the East and the King of the West, streamers and confetti twirl down from the giant gold ball swinging from a crane above.
Young children and old grandparents. Okinawans and Americans. Everyone pulls with all of their strength on the smaller branches of ropes extending out from the main rope. The event may last up to 30 minutes, however, it usually only takes 10 before everyone begins gasping for breath and laughing from the exhausting joy and celebration of the games.
Men dressed in traditional Okinawan atire stand on top of the ropes banging metal plates and crying out "Hai-ya!" and "O-Shoi!" encouraging the masses to "pull harder!" and "heave-ho!". Unbelievably, the 40 metric ton rope is dragged to one side and the end is called. Immediately, hundreds of people pull out knives to cut off a piece of the rope to take home for luck in the coming year.
Families and friends excitedly climb up on top of the rope that is higher than most cars to take pictures as proof that they were a part of the world known tug of war. The once world's largest rope is cut down and taken home, a unique memento of the memories spent celebrating at the Naha Tug of War festival.
_________
Rose Witmer is a young traveler at the beginning of a long journey around the world. She currently lives in Okinawa, Japan, exploring the jungles and mountains when not enjoying the Japanese city life. She loves to write and never leaves home without a camera and a notebook. You can find her on Matador Travel and at her new blog, Samayou Meigui.
Mike Lynch is a photographer in Okinawa, Japan. For more info visit www.mikesryukyugallery.com
After my confession of getting bed bugs myself, I thought I would at least post some tips on how to prevent bed bugs when traveling from the research I did after getting them in Asia.
In the last ten years, bed bug infestations have quadrupled. It's not just hostels either, as 4-5 star hotels are getting hit with the same problem too.
Prevent bed bugs before they attack: Click here to buy pre-trip supplies!
Bed bugs do not discriminate, and the traveler is the most susceptible to getting a case of them. Since most countries in the world have outlawed the chemical DDT, bed bugs are coming back in a whole new way!
There isn't a full-proof way of detecting bed bugs in a room. I know that's not what you wanted to hear.
They can be hiding anywhere, strike anytime, and it almost takes a case of them infecting someone before you can diagnose what it was. Bed bugs can live as long as 18 months without having to feed.
Odds are, you might have stayed in a bug-infested room already, but nothing happened because they weren't out on the prowl the night you slept. That being said, you can still check for signs.
A good traveler should always ask to see the room first, but before you go straight to the bathroom once you hit the light, go to the bed first.
The bugs are nocturnal and only move around when it's dark, so the best time for seeing signs (or one) of them is right after the light is turned on.
Check under the bed mattress first. Look for stains of black or brown fecal matter. You will typically find this around their nesting area.
Be sure also to check out the mattress tag; they love to hide there for some reason.
Check the sheets and pillowcases by pulling them back. Look for signs of minor blood stains that they leave after feeding.
Check the back of the headboard for nesting areas as well. You may also see translucent light brown skins in this area.
Check the walls for cracks where you might see signs of fecal matter. Most bed bugs nest about 10-15 feet from the bed.
If the room has furniture (couch or chairs), lift the cushions and inspect for the same signs as above. Bed bugs can just as easily nest there.
Inspection on your part is the best thing. Hotels and hostels aren't going to tell you on a scale of 1-10 if there are bed bugs in the room they're trying to sell you.
Never leave your bag or suitcase on the floor or bed. Always store bags in an elevated area, and if the room has a nightstand or luggage rack, use it. Even the top of the TV is better than nothing.
If you suspect an infestation, immediately grab all your stuff and go to the front counter. Inform the management of what you saw and request a room change or refund.
I would go with the refund; if one room is infested, I assume the whole place is. The place your staying isn't worth the risk of getting torn up. If you don't believe me, see the other article I wrote here.
Note: if you paid $5 for your room in a developing country, just leave. Getting angry with the owner and making demands will do you little good.
Don't mistake mosquito bites for bed bugs. Bed bug bites usually come in rows of three and will not have a blood dot in the middle of the bite like a mosquito bite would leave. When in doubt, ask!
HEAT, HEAT, and more HEAT! Wash your clothes and anything you can afford to get wet in the hottest water you can find.
I boiled water and dipped all my clothes into a pot three times. Bed bugs can take temperatures up to 100 F (38 C), so you need your water to be at least 120 F (49 C).
It's the only 100%-certain way of ensuring you rid your clothes of them and do not take any home with you.
Don't bother with freezing or chemicals. Freezing them only puts the bugs into hibernation, and chemicals are sketchy at best.
See a doctor and get some meds to help with the healing. It will speed up the recovery time of the bites, and it's better than having to walk around, say, Thailand, in the middle of the summer with a long sleeve shirt.
Afterward, you might have difficulty convincing yourself that something isn't eating you every time you go to sleep.
It took me three months to get a good night's sleep after I got bitten, and it was all psychological.
Learn from my experience and use these tips to prevent bed bugs while traveling. Good luck out there!
January 14, 2007 - Three years ago, and four days, I installed WordPress on www.gobackpacking.com and began to figure out how to develop a travel blog for my trip around the world. Looking back, I didn't have a clue as to how to attract visitors (though I knew my trip was going to be exciting), let alone make money.
As evidence, here's my first post, presented in its entirety:
Eureka! Installing this blog software by WordPress on my own website was a snap. I had already done the message boards a few months ago, so I'm sure that experience helped. Still, with this up and running so quickly and easily, I'm now psyched to host my Round the World travel blog on home turf! The biggest benefit will be a somewhat unlimited sense of photo storage. Life is good.
I'm a big BootsnAll fan, but when I signed up for a travel blog with them, and saw they were using WordPress, I figured I could just create my own. Almost immediately, my life was turned upside down, as I quickly became addicted to WordPress, and the act of writing/blogging.
Now, three years later, I wanted to take a moment to recognize this anniversary, with post #1,000.
While I've written over 900 of them, this milestone would've taken several months longer to reach if it weren't for Go Backpacking's growing list of regular and guest contributors.
Thank you to everyone who has contributed over the years, whether in terms of reading, sharing comments, donating money, submitting stories and photos, or sponsoring this travel blog. It's helped to keep me motivated, whether traveling halfway around the world or sitting on a couch in my parent's house, pondering what happens next.
I know one thing for sure - 2010 is going to be an exciting year here at Go Backpacking!
I can finally admit it...I got bed bugs once! One of the worst things I have ever had happen to me while traveling, and I guess maybe if you travel long enough, it's bound to occur.
I wasn't sure about writing this story because frankly it's embarrassing and I felt so skanky after it happened, but six months later I can now emotionally deal with the issue (or at least that's what my therapist says).
Below is what I wrote six months ago while waiting at the train station to leave Chiang Mai for Bangkok, Thailand.
Steve is the guy who I was doing photography work within Bangkok.
***
"Today has been a new one for me here in Chiang Mai. I came up here with a friend to shoot some photos of the area.
We had been staying at a recently renovated hotel called The Mercure and were using it as a base for going out to sites in extreme northern Thailand.
We had gotten to Chiang Mai late evening, and for 800 baht per night ($22.50), it came with four stars and breakfast.
Usually this would be over my budget, but Steve wanted to stay there because he knew a friend who was a teacher from Bangkok that was bringing her class, 100+ students, to do a music show there for a week.
She made all the arrangements, and we were given the same discounted price as the school was getting.
So for a little more and being such a nice hotel I was ok with it.
After all, I thought it's ok sometimes to splurge and not stay in a $5, steamy hot, hostel room.
The second night we went to the night market and shot the flowers there, which Chiang Mai is known famously for.
Steve wasn't up for much walking that night, and since it was my first night out, I went out on my own to see the rest of the market.
I got rained in and took cover at a little bar for a few hours, then made my way back to the hotel. It put me back kind of late but overall I had a good night and got some great pictures.
The next morning, I woke up with a whole bunch of sores on my upper body.
Mainly along my arms/back and to me it looked like mosquito bites.
The thing that got me was that the night before I never really remember the little zappers bothering me much.
They itched like hell the next morning, and I decided I would take some precautions when out at night again (something I hardly ever do).
I told Steve about the bites that morning, and he said maybe they were bed bugs.
Never really thought it was that but that night while laying in bed it had me freaked was I sleeping with a 1,000 little body munchers???
It freaked me so much that I ended up sleeping in my clothes that night and every time a hair on my body twitched I was turning on the light.
Made for a long night, and the next day, I just chopped it up as a "Steve story."
We got out early the next day and headed further north to Changi Rai and spent the day shooting The White Temple (fantastic place by the way!).
Got back and had a ton of pictures to edit.
When done I decided to watch a season of Dexter and hit the sack.
I'm laying there watching a movie on my laptop, and somehow I saw this little bug the size of a pinhead move on the bed (I guess I have 15/20 vision).
I got on all fours and scooped it up and put it into a glass. Was this me paranoid?
Had to find out, so I started tearing the bed apart, first the sheets, then the under sheets, pillows flipped, then flipped the bed too and after 20min I had eight bugs in my glass.
A few the size of a small ladybug but there isn't anything cute about them.
This was the evidence I was hoping I wouldn't find.
I knew 100% what had eaten me up two nights before.
I went into the bathroom and started counting the bites stopped at 98!!! I wasn't so much mad as I didn't want to be there.
I planned to go to the hospital and confirm for sure what it was, then confront the hotel about it the next day.
One thing for sure was that I wasn't lying in that bed again.
Stayed up for as long as I could but couldn't make it and ended up curling up in the corner of the room, on a chair like a crack head, using a bathrobe as a blanket.
I felt like some bum on the street in my hotel room that I was paying good money for the night's stay.
Called Steve the next morning in his room and we went to the hospital.
Within 5sec, the doctor confirmed what I thought.
She told me things like this happen but not to worry, as they carry no diseases that I wasn't already vaccinated for.
Total cost for doctors visit was about 500 baht ($15), and with the cream and meds she prescribed for me, it came to about 1,500 baht ($42) total. Pretty cheap doctor visit and was happy about that.
Went back to the hotel and Steve told me the hotel would pay for all the doctor costs and move me into a new " clean"? room.
Screw that I thought!
You don't eat twice at a restaurant that gets you sick, because if it happens again, it's your fault for knowing.
I loaded all my clothes into one bag (had to get them all washed with some scalding water, as I had bought some new ones on the way back from the hospital) and was ready to get out of that place.
Steve kept trying to get me to stay, but what sane person would and in the end, I decided just to leave and head back to Bangkok early.
We were supposed to leave the next day, but I didn't see the point of renting another hotel room (no way in hell I was staying in that hotel another night) to ride back with him.
So as I write this now, I'm at the Chiang Mai train station and getting ready for an overnight train ride in a seat.errrr!
It's going to be murder, but a seat was all they had left, and the thought of sleeping in my safe bed was enough to merit the cost." ~ Written May 29, 2009
***
I hope this doesn't discourage people from traveling.
I have been on every continent in the world (except for Antarctica), stayed in some nice hotels to some dodgy hostels and this is the first time anything like this has happened.
It happened in a place I thought it wouldn't as if it had occurred in a $4 hostel bed I could at least say it was a cheap room and that's what I get for being cheap.
It won't stop me from traveling, but I think I'll invest in a silk blanket to give me a buffer zone.
The joys of traveling outweigh anything like this, but it's not something I want to experience again.
The worst part for me wasn't the scars I had to wear for a month...it was the physiological part that took hold of my mind.
I didn't sleep in my bed back in Bangkok for the rest of the time, and it did take me about three months before I could get a good nights sleep again.
Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite... brings a whole new meaning to me now.
As the van screeches to a halt, the driver forcefully launches my bags onto the sidewalk. I am far from the familiar. One-way Via Della Vigna Nuova in Florence fills with people and light.
I yell back at the driver," Che numero e?" in a shaky, uncertain voice." Tre!" she screams back at me, mid-exclamation, and already the white van has turned the corner.
I look for Biliotti on the golden doorbell frame. Just below, Dolce & Gabbana shares a spot in the building. I notice a Gucci store is my neighbor. I begin to wonder if I have reached Italian fashion heaven, that if I ring Dolce & Gabbana, who or what will open those impressive caramel-colored, gold-detailed doors? Instead, I decide to stick to the plan. I will ring my assigned host family.
The van that dropped me off held a handful of excited, gabbing American college students, ready to begin their semester abroad in Florence. However, most of these students had not faced those intimidating doors before me.
The majority will live together in apartments around town, speaking English as their common foreign language. One chatty Kathy begins to go around the van, asking everyone if they know Italian.
I am the only one with any experience. It seems most make their way to Florence to guzzle down the wine, meet hunky Fabio, and travel around Europe.
Who can blame them? Florence is an idyllic city, covered in Renaissance art and architecture. Some of the greatest minds and artists hail from Florence, including Dante Alighieri. Dante supposedly lived just down the street from where I make my new home.
He is credited with glorifying the Italian language as we know it today, the language that forty-somethings have started to learn post "Under the Tuscan Sun" for its romantic appeal. I have, however, come to live with Mauro and Loriana, two older Florentines looking for some American company.
The door buzzes open, and I maneuver my cumbersome bags through the threshold. An older red-faced Italian man rushes down the stairs, excitedly greeting me with those overly expressive Italian hand gestures.
He stops to give me the double Euro kiss. I am always so awkwardly American at those, never knowing if I should go right or left first, making the exchange more of a standoff of head bobbing.
We climb the stairs and I meet Loriana, Mauro's wife. My jetlag subsides, and I feel that excitement. I am crossing over, but not in the hokey John Edward TV show sense. I am crossing cultures, becoming an Italian for a semester.
Travelers can easily get by without speaking a word of Italian in Florence. Students studying abroad in the city mostly bring their mini-America to the streets that the Medici used to rule.
At the end of the semester, a few students confided in me their envy at my host family set-up, jealous of my connection to actual Italians, which I can take home in memory.
Florence is full of English speakers. A red-headed, American girl, even if she speaks Italian to get those scoops of gelato, is usually met with English.
The Florentines are just so used to the English invasion of their city, with thousands of foreign students studying abroad in Florence every year making no attempts towards speaking Italian. On a small scale, I tried to change that impression.
The only advice I give to those college students choosing the independence of studying abroad is to stay with locals. Most home stay programs include meals with your Italian family.
Those breakfasts, lunches, and dinners turn into Italian conversation lessons. Some days, after five classes, you do not have the energy to do it, but you must sit with your family and try out of courtesy.
Powering through bad moods and fatigue creates an overwhelming sense of independence. You do not just come home with a slew of photos from all over Europe to show to your family and friends. You come home with friends and family from another culture and a wider understanding of life in general.
Night after night, I dined with Mauro and Loriana, learning about their sons, previous lives, and Italian history. Mauro's know-it-all Italian male nature was apparent, telling my roommate Lisa and me how life goes, at least according to Mauro.
We would later return to our room, chuckling about Mauro's persona, but there was something so fatherly in how he treated us.
Loriana fulfilled the motherly role, always ensuring I left home with a sweater and umbrella. On sapphire blue colored sofas, I would lounge with Loriana, discovering she was once a famous Florentine fashion designer. We would watch Italian talk shows and dramatic soap operas.
Tonight, Loriana is probably up late, glued to the newest soap. What I would not give right now to be doing the same, not only speaking Italian but bonding over Italian TV with "i miei genitori Italiani," as I call them, my Italian parents.
__________
Suzy Guese is a travel writer based in Denver, Colorado. Travel has always been an integral part of her life, with family vacations at a young age and her year in college studying abroad in Florence, Sicily, and Sorrento. Find out more about Suzy by following her on Twitter or reading suzyguese.com, where she takes readers physically or mentally around the world with a red-headed temperament.
After spending a week on Phuket that was intended to be spent on smaller, more idyllic Koh Phi Phi Don, I finally boarded a ferry toward Maya Bay, aka The Beach. The first person I spoke with, before the ferry even left, was Josie from Canada, and her friend Catherine.
In addition to the company of two attractive French Canadians, I also had the chance to meet Nate, a fellow travel blogger (Ubertramp.com) who was working in a dive shop on the island.
For an island that was devastate by the massive tsunami, it was hard to tell so much destruction had occurred. I know it wasn't easy, but it was clear that locals and expats alike were quick to try and put the pieces back together again.
Next on the itinerary, an impromptu trip to Ko Tao with my new Canadian friends.
Manners
Manners certainly differ across countries, but by American standards, some Chinese manners are, um, severely lacking.
For example, everyone screams fu yuan! ("waiter") to get attention in a restaurant.
For any food with bones, you put the entire piece, bone and all, into your mouth, then simply spit the bone back out onto the table afterward.
Used napkins get thrown to the floor. One ashes cigarettes on the floor.
And one should continuously spit on the floor during the meal--either simple saliva, or else one of the many foods the Chinese like to eat, simply to spit more: watermelon, sunflower seeds, and peanuts.
At multiple meals, I have seen men take off their shirts (perhaps a good reason for private rooms?).
However, don't be fooled. They still have rules of etiquette. I got reprimanded for using a cloth napkin to--shocking!--wipe my face.
Paper napkins are for wiping (then throwing down on the floor, amidst the spit and seeds).
Different strokes for different folks.
In China, communal Lazy Susans and dishes are universal.
This is great for sampling, but unspoken yet complex rules govern when one can spin the Lazy Susan to get that one dish one wants to eat.
I hope to learn this convention soon because Murphy's Law dictates that fish heads usually lie closer to me, while tasty, bone-free tofu always sits just out of reach.
I could stand up to get it, reaching over everyone, since that's not considered rude, but spinning the Lazy Susan seems to be forbidden. Fascinating.
Regional Delicacies
Sichuan region is best known for spice and hot pots.
Most local spice is bearable, but one, the "numbing spice" (ma la), seriously tingles, then numbs your mouth, lips, and ultimately trachea.
After my leg fell asleep, I learned that our sensation called "pins and needles" is the same word as this spice.
Great, Sichuan. Your spice makes your body feel asleep and tingly. No one wants that.
Hot pot also provides a unique experience, certainly worth a try in Sichuan.
This dish involves cooking all your ingredients in boiling oil at your table.
These pots are usually ridiculously spicy-- all of the ones I have tried have had oil that looked like boiling blood-- yum.
What one dips in the hot pot is usually mystery meat, so it is best to leave the dictionary at home. What I first thought were tofu-like noodles turned out to be duck intestines.
They were more palatable as tofu-noodles! Most interesting perhaps was their hot dogs, cut so that they bloomed in the oil.
Odd-- hot dogs that appear to bloom in bloody oil. Delicacies abound!
Actually, though, I now love hot pot-- but it did take me a few months to get used to it, a lot of oil stains on my clothes (seriously- almost everything I own), and the discovery of the "yin yang" hot pot-- the half spice, half soup variety.
No wonder the Chinese ask me so regularly if I've "acclimated"-- they knew I'd come around to this tasty treat.
See also: Basic Tips for First Time Travelers in China
Markets and Cooking
Living and cooking with a Chinese roommate exposes one to several interesting dishes not on a restaurant menu.
For example, the copious hot dog aisle in the supermarket (yes, it's an entire aisle), produced one stupendously inedible dish involving pickled eggs and hot dogs.
Now, I hate nothing more than pickling, but I also am queasy about eggs, so perhaps I am the wrong person to judge, but these eggs were the worst things I've ever tasted, and not made better by the hot dogs, which smelled like cat food.
While I find almost all Sichuan food delicious, this one is beyond me even its texture is appalling since pickled eggs are preserved in sand of sorts. Scrumptious.
This dish also includes MSG, of course--everything we cook does.
My roommate (who is Chinese and thus controls all essential purchases for our kitchen) needs the all-white spice set: salt, sugar, and MSG. Flavor be damned!
The meat market has also proved to be a real adventure.
Many sights there are daunting: entire pig heads, bloody puddles, baskets of lungs (don't bump them!), and piles of pig feet.
I also have seen women throw their money onto raw meat while paying, which is gross for the cash, grosser for the meat, and grossest when someone with bloody hands picks up the money.
This lack of sanitation tries my Western phobia of raw meat, but some things are particularly shocking, especially the meat grinding.
To get your meat cut, you put it into filthy plastic baskets, then put it through a grinder, which is slathered in meat from previous grindings and appears never to have been washed: no gloves, no refrigeration, no problem.
Oh, when you purchase meat at the market, it usually sits afterward on desks at the office for hours before one goes home to cook it for lunch.
My neighbor likes to leave an entire, dead duck on her desk. Maybe it helps you build up an appetite.
Despite my distrust of the hygiene in the meat market and my distaste for pickled eggs, most cooking experiences here are delightful, and I love trying new vegetables, many entirely new for me.
Also fascinating is what one cannot get in China.
For example, milk is only sold in small juice-box size, never larger.
Prepared chicken broth simply cannot be bought in China.
However, other things are readily available: cilantro (which my roommate cautions is terrible for men's' health) or winter melon (gigantic--tastes like a potato but with melon texture) and other unfamiliar produce.
Final Course
Eating in China will never be boring.
Delicious food will be coupled with hilarious observations and lavish hospitality, maybe involving unwanted pig hooves.
You can't separate the food from the accompanying hospitality rituals and the distinctive local manners.
And you can never distance yourself from eating-- it's the heart of the day.
Just be advised, the food is oily, and chopsticks don't help.
If I've learned any one thing, it's to bring along a Tide pen-- you will get oil on every piece of clothing you own.
That is a Sichuan certainty. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about that one.
______
Photo Credit: All photos courtesy of David Lee.
This is part 1 of a 2-part photo essay.
In late November 2008, I embarked upon a 5-day safari of Kruger National Park in South Africa.
My camera was a standard point-and-shoot, Canon Digital IXUS 860 IS (aka PowerShot).
Because fencing marks the perimeter of the park, there is an abundance of wildlife, including the Big 5. I managed to see them all, except a leopard, which is considered the hardest to spot. There were also a few cheetah running around, but I didn't see them either, as they are often stationary during the midday heat. I saw a white rhinoceros on my last day, however it was too far back in the brush to capture clearly on camera.
______
Photo Credit: All photos are by David Lee, and may not be used without express written consent.
In China, food pervades everything. A large percentage of each day seems to be filled with going to the market, eating, or just talking about food. In my Chinese textbook I learned that one common greeting is, " Have you had your rice today?"? While this doesn't seem to be true here in Sichuan, it's completely normal to talk to people and ask them if they've eaten, if they're full, what they ate, and also to caution them either to eat slowly or eat quickly, depending on the situation.
People in Sichuan are also inclined to tell you about their regional foods, particularly their specialty peppers. Additionally, food is fundamental to their hospitality and social interactions, as I have learned from living with a Chinese roommate, with whom I visit markets and cook on a regular basis.
What I have observed follows in a 2-part series of anecdotes, all told through the medium of food:
Hospitality
My first week in China was spent being ushered into a variety of tiny rooms in restaurants that all served the same food. The Chinese seem obsessed with " VIP"? treatment"”whether " VIP discount cards"? for discounts, or, for me, private dining rooms. After two full months here, I have yet to eat in a restaurant without having a special room, reserved for ten of my new best friends. Most restaurants feature a large empty area where nobody eats and many small, private rooms for actual dining. Go figure. I guess only plebeians would visit a restaurant where they had to eat in public.
Being hospitable to a Westerner seems to involve catering to a lot of stereotypes about Westerners, but it's the thought that counts, right? For example, while all the Chinese will drink tea, they usually get me coffee, which is much more expensive, without even checking first. When I finally declined coffee (I get uncomfortable being continually hosted), they gave me sugar water instead. Why? Because Americans love sugar, they believe. They often give me bowls of sugar with things like rice, just to be nice. Thanks? Then they worry whether I can tolerate spice.
When I went to a hot pot restaurant with a colleague, she took things out of the spice and dipped in a water bowl before placing it before me. I could not help noticing that the only other person who got this treatment was her three-year-old. And I wonder whether the overabundance that they force on me is because I'm a guest, an American, or just way bigger than most Chinese people, but it's definitely enough for at least three people.
Offering things to people is also incredibly hospitable. One gives others tea before taking it. One hands out chopsticks and, sometimes even dishes that could easily be reached without help. For example, the standard bucket of peanuts on the table is always placed directly in front of me, together with the caution that I eat them slowly. I can reach them easily myself, thanks, but I appreciate your forcing them upon me.
Asking others to sit is also incredibly important-- even if you are standing outside, good hospitality requires that chairs and stools and benches be brought to you, so the gathering soon goes outdoors, seated. In fact, more commonly in rural Sichuan, one winds up dining al fresco. Additionally, the role of filling cups of tea falls to the youngest woman at the table, and filling glasses becomes an enormous sign of respect and politeness.
Toasting demonstrates hospitality in another way too. Most Westerners know the Chinese toast, gan bei (which literally means " dry glass"?), but the intricacies of the drinking ceremonies are truly amazing. First, one always wants to fill the glasses of others, but they will resist and try to pour them instead. This ritual leads to violent grabbing of hands and glasses and forcing alcohol on others, a real spectacle!
There follows intense peer pressure towards competitive drinking-- if others are drinking, you must too, no matter how many times you say you'd rather not (or cannot handle it). You also have to finish the entire glass, since the person toasting you does; otherwise, they hold out their dry glass, point at it, and mock you until you do. Oh, you might be excused from drinking if you don't start at all, but once you do start, there is no escape. They will chase you down.
Finally, giving people delicacies obviously forms a big part of hospitality. Bringing gifts, particularly fruit (better if wrapped in cellophane), is excellent form and will win you a lot of " face"?-- Chinese respect. However, at restaurants, the gifting involves putting tasty morsels in other people's bowls.
For me, this is almost always disgusting, especially that fish head, complete with eyes, in my bowl--even if it is a great honor. Some honor: I have to eat fish eyes. Nor do I also really want chicken feet, especially offered talon-first. Trying to eat around the edges of the chicken feet and thus avoid bones (I hate bones) actually led to the joint bending"”yuck! One woman even bit walnuts in half to give them to me. I was raised right, trained to eat everything put in front of me so as not to be rude, but obviously some forms of hospitality require cultural adjustment.
Lest this make you think otherwise, overall I love the food in China-- but it certainly is an adjustment!
Stay tuned for another post about my reflections on food in Sichuan....coming tomorrow.
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Photo Credit: Restaurant picture photo by Laura Silver. All other photos courtesy of David Lee.
Within the international staff of an ESL school, the overwhelming majority are typically young - early to mid-twenties, fresh out of college, unwilling to sentence themselves to the corporate world just yet.
During my time abroad, I was a part of that group. Never before having worked full-time, aside from short summertime gigs, my peers and I in the post-collegiate category perfected the art of complaining about work.
For instance:
This is where I learned to be appreciative of the older folks on staff. Whenever a post-collegiate began to moan, our elders provided some perspective.
They had a bit more life experience behind them. Some were our parents' age, perhaps fresh divorcees, perhaps recently laid-off. Those I knew all seemed to be handling mid-life crises with huge life shake-ups. Others were a bit younger: newlyweds in their early thirties or corporate burnouts in their late twenties, escaping after just a few years climbing the workplace ladder. All had experienced a bit of life, but all were searching for something more.
They were mentors for those of us in the younger generation, preparing us for the real world we had yet to face. They taught us to appreciate what we had.
Sure, teaching hours weren't ideal. But having a free Tuesday afternoon week after week is something anyone in corporate America would kill to have. And yes, the students could grate on our nerves, but better it be a student we could reprimand, than a boss around whom we'd have to remain tight-lipped. And, again, while there was work to do after class ended, twenty minutes of lesson-planning at home in our pajamas would always beat slaving at the office two hours after the sun has gone down.
Like any job, ESL has its ups and downs. It's good to understand what you'll be getting into before accepting a post, but at the same time, it's important to keep the glass half full. It can always be worse, and at the end of the day, you're living abroad. That simple fact makes every complaint well worth it.
Some things about Asia make me miss Europe. For backpackers, Europe is simple, easy and accessible.
For myself as a Canadian, I had no visa requirements and for the most part, I only had to deal with one currency. It made moving around and seeing multiple countries easy.
I have been spoiled so far, not only have I never needed to apply for a visa, but I've rarely been scrutinized at border crossings, and all entries were free of charge.
This is far from the case in Southeast Asia, though I enjoy more lax requirements than other nationalities, I still have to pay fees for visas in multiple countries, apply in advance for my Burmese and Vietnamese visas, and there is no such thing as an unguarded border in SouthEast Asia.
The most important thing is to be knowledgeable about the requirements before you go and to know which crossing you will likely be using.
Which crossing is especially important, as different border crossings have different options available; some may offer visas on arrival, while others may not.
Select crossings may only be open in one direction, and nothing is worse than making your way to the border only to find out your trip was in vain.
In addition, some countries have other requirements such as proof of onward travel, proof of funds, required vaccinations, or finger printings. It is important to check requirements for your specific nationality as it can vary greatly.
Two of the best tools that you have at your disposal for researching the status of border crossings are a Google search organized by most recent entries and Wikitravel.
Wikitravel is written by travelers and it is likely that if a backpacker had a bad border experience, it will be added to the site. Use Google to search for individual crossing and be sure to organize the search by date.
You will get a lot of bad results, but are much more likely to find relevant information.
The first place to check is your home country's website for your visa requirements. Most countries will make this information available online.
The information isn't automatically updated when visa requirements change, so it isn't infallible, but it's an excellent start.
As with most countries around the world, your passport needs to be valid for 6 months after you enter a country.
Burma and Vietnam require me to apply for a visa in advance, which I will do in Bangkok, and Sihanoukville respectively.
Thailand offers its own visa conundrum and really epitomizes why visas are such a hassle.
For a country with such a developed tourism industry, it sure seems like Thailand doesn't want any visitors to stay. The country's visa rules have changed multiple times in recent years, and as a result, I am only able to receive a 15-day visa when entering Thailand at a land border crossing, while a 30-day visa is issued only at airports.
This is not so much a problem for me as I will be splitting my time in Thailand with a trip to Burma.
I did, however, have to adjust my schedule slightly to fit under the 15-day limit, and if I decide to spend more time in southern Thailand, I may end up overstaying my visa, at the cost of 500 Baht a day.
30-day visas as a bare minimum, are extremely common around the world.
For a country such as Thailand to restrict tourism like this is acutely frustrating, but what can you expect from a government that seized power via a military coup?
Most of the countries charge fees for a visa. This is important to note as it can easily make an impact on your budget depending on your citizenship.
I've budgeted $150-$200 USD as there are visa costs associated with entering Burma, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Indonesia.
The baffling reality is that visa costs vary depending on where and how you obtain one.
For this reason, and the possibility of border shakedowns, I have to budget for a range of costs and not an exact amount.
It's not all bad, a person from Israel would certainly face more red tape, fees, and hassle than a Canadian with a golden passport.
It is important to remember that visa information is subject to change at any time, so be sure to double-check your information before you depart.
Below are links to the visa requirements for common backpacker countries.
Resources:
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Photo Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/71502646@N00/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
This is a guest post by Rose Witmer (text) and Michael Lynch (photos). To guest post on Go Backpacking, please read more here.
The coming spring heralds the dawn of the Sakura season, also known as cherry blossom season, in Japan. Tourists come from all corners of the world to view the snow-white blossoms blooming.
However, long before the Sakura arrives on the mainland, Okinawans endure the Siberian winds that chill the cherry blossom trees in January, coaxing the island's uniquely deep pink petals from the barren branches. Soon, the rough brown is softened by a blush of pink, foreshadowing warm spring days.
The Japanese white-eye, a small green bird with a distinct white ring around its eyes, flits from one blossom to another, using its long, curved beak to sip nectar from the cup of each flower.
Sometimes hanging upside down, hiding behind pink branches before zipping off to another bloom, these birds have been depicted in many paintings and poems when celebrating the season of the Sakura.
The Sakura serves as more than an alluring display of pink buds. Many view its brief and beautiful existence as a reflection of life itself and has been an inspiration throughout Japanese history.
The proud Samurai found a special connection with the blossoms. These warriors saw the Sakura's life as one akin to their own, full of divine elegance but cut down early by sharp winds; their existence was both fleeting and radiant.
Not only warriors but also poets, artists, philosophers, kings, and peasants all spent what little time they could beneath the Sakura trees, watching the snow of petals whirl in the air as the wind ripped them from their branches.
Today, the Sakura inspires photographers to mountain cherry blossoms to capture that perfect moment. The pink petals begin to glow as the sun peaks out from behind a cloud, its rays streaking down in golden shafts of light. Drunk on pollen, a lazy bee drifts to a flower while the birds flit from branch to branch. Click. An image of beauty made eternal with film.
The Hanami, or flower viewing party, is a long-held tradition special to the Sakura season. Families and old friends gather together over blue tarps with neatly packed picnic lunches or bentos and plenty of sake for those old enough to indulge. Wrapped in thick jackets, the cold is barely noticed as the time spent reminiscing and laughing with friends and loved ones warms the air.
Festivals also add to the excitement of the season. Tents line the streets with paper lanterns, illuminating the various festival foods, such as grilled noodles, meat, and octopus.
Children run to their parents begging for money in hopes of winning a prize from balloon and bottle games, and old men sit along benches enjoying the aura of the season and the lively excitement in the air. Of course, with any Okinawan festival comes the display of traditional dances and the energy of the Eisa, a dance of drums unique to the Ryukyu Islands.
Most Sakura festivals will end with a display of fireworks. However, even when a village cannot afford expensive pyrotechnics, the Okinawan spirit remains tenaciously undefeated.
One year, instead of loud cracks and bright flashes lighting up the night sky, a group of truckers decided to provide the festival's grand finale. Loud rumbling drew the village's curiosity as enormous trucks dressed in strings of Christmas lights and neon fluorescence made their way down narrow Okinawan roads. It may not have been an impressive display of color and fire, but it added a unique excitement to the night's end.
As February passes in Okinawa, the winter breezes tear the last petals from their safe haven and carry them on whirling paths to join the carpet of pink below. The Sakura's life of climbing into dense jungle mountains, its soft pink petals contrasting with the spreading leaves of the tropical palm trees, is past. The footsteps of pink scattered throughout city parks and lining paths to quiet shrines fade to blend with the lush jade of the coming tropical Spring.
The few remaining petals are replaced by vibrant Irish green leaves that push through from beneath the flower. Only memories and photographs prove the fleeting life of the cherry blossoms. The contrast of pastel pink to vibrant green is so astounding that it leaves one wondering if Sakura had ever existed. Life continues.
However, the Sakura celebrations are only the first of many to come. Sakura is an unofficial national symbol and a source of pride for the Japanese; Okinawa is honored to see it first. Once the Sakura season in Okinawa ends, many will flock to travel agents to book flights to the mainland in preparation for their spring Sakura to bloom in April and May, leaving a trail of snowy white blossoms up Japan's main island.
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Rose Witmer is a young traveler at the beginning of a long journey around the world. She currently lives in Okinawa, Japan, and explores the jungles and mountains when she is not enjoying Japanese city life. She loves to write and never leaves home without a camera and a notebook. You can find her on Matador Travel and her new blog, Samayou Meigui.
Mike Lynch is a photographer in Okinawa, Japan. For more info, visit www.mikesryukyugallery.com
Almost all of my American friends I made while studying abroad were majoring in international relations. At Syracuse University, like most others, it is a broad field, incorporating law, organizations, security, diplomacy, political economy, and international communication in each geographic region of the world.
As a a magazine journalism and modern foreign language major, I was certainly the odd one out in the academic sense. I'll admit that I'd never taken an economics class and was somewhat ignorant on specific political histories, but in my 10 months outside of the country, I was exposed to all of this knowledge and more.
You see, there was one thing that I and every single other American student had in common, our cultural baggage. No matter how aware we were (or weren't), we each carried a collection of values, beliefs, concepts and behaviors. They were uniquely developed within us as children in our respective homes, and yet all the while in our shared home country. And it was at their mercy that we experienced the world.
The first step to cultural understanding is a simple recognition of this perspective within yourself and within each and every other person you meet. Overall cultural themes can be summarized, in fact, by one simple question, the one that is asked immediately upon meeting someone new.
In the United States that question is most often, "What do you do?" Us Americans live in an individualistic, capitalistic society, and thus, we are defined by our jobs or careers. It is a central part of our identity, and it is a double-edged sword.
Struggling for time and balance we have come to depend on efficiency and convenience. As I touched on in my review of The Geography of Bliss, for as positive as this constant motivation to be and do better is, it can also negatively affect our relationships, our happiness and our health.
In Ecuador I often was asked, "Are you married?" For the most part, it wasn't a rude or even flirtatious inquisition, just a way to get to know me better as family plays a prominent role in most Latin American cultures.
Living in Santiago, Chile, however, I was met with "Where do you live? and "Where do you go to school?" by numerous twenty-somethings. The first one can be attributed to the fact that my address is powerful enough to dictate my economic status. While Dictator Pinochet was in power, he organized the city's neighborhoods in such a way that the upper class, middle class, and lower class were clearly defined and segregated within their area. It is often still like that to this day and according to my host mom, the prejudices that have been born from it can reach as far as to affect the hiring process.
The other, is a little less devastating. In Santiago, like most places outside of the US, children, teenagers, and young adults live at home while they study. They go through the education system with the same classmates and groups of friends, often until college graduation. Thus, not only is it difficult for outsiders to integrate themselves into deeply-rooted friendships but it also, as a stereotype, says a lot about their political stance. If you were wondering, the public U. de Chile is considered liberal, while the also public yet religiously-affiliated U. Cathólica is conservative and upper crust. Interesting stuff.
Somewhat less telling were the first questions I was asked in France and throughout my European travels, "Where are you from?" To non-native speakers it was nearly impossible to differentiate whether I was British, Australian, Irish or American among others.
Furthermore, in countries in which I could communicate (Spanish/French-speaking) locals could only reach the point of being sure that I was not from their respective country. To them, I could've been from "anywhere but here." And that was especially flattering for a foreign speaker like me :).
I am certainly not a social anthropologist, nor do I support generalizations of any form, but I do find it absolutely fascinating how far that Q & A period, at the earliest point of first impressions, can reach into our own cultural core.
In the medinas of Morocco, a donkey walks past the cooking-meat smoke of a food stall, a television set tied to its back. Teenage boys on motor scooters zoom and honk, as veiled women fill water jugs at an exquisitely tiled fountain alcove.
The sound of the adhan booms through loudspeakers, echoing off crumbling buildings and down narrow, cat-slinking alleyways. And you are hopelessly lost amid it all.
As quintessential as couscous, medinas are the walled, crowded, maze-like aortas of any Moroccan travel experience. While modern development and orderly urban planning have sprung up around them, medinas are the ancient heart of any city in Morocco. Here, East meets West, past meets modernity, and tourist meets local.
Some are reconstructed, some are touristy, some are pure snake-charming insanity. But none are alike. Here are my rankings for the most memorable medinas visited on my recent Moroccan adventure.
Table of Contents
American expats Paul Bowles and William Burroughs may no longer be on the prowl. Still, the narrow alleys of the Tangier medina feel just as gloriously grimy and hopelessly hash-laced.
Glue-sniffing kids lurk past pushy medina touts, while fresh-off-the-ferry tourists sip mint tea at the old cruising spots of literary giants. Tangier's proximity to Europe has long left it open to all sorts of Western influence, much of it nefarious. I didn't feel unsafe anywhere in Morocco except the dark back alleys of the Tangier medina.
From the wide, evenly paved lanes to the lackadaisical shopkeepers, Casablanca's medina feels more like a recreated theme park or worse, an outdoor mall than a relic of ancient urbanity. Even the stray cats are missing.
The medina itself is only a little over 100 years old, which accounts for the fresh facades and lack of historical ambiance.
Swap the trinkets at the kiosks for cell phones and add some piped-in music, and it'd be an American mall. But if you've been battling hustlers for a few weeks, the peace is a welcome break, even if it feels Disney-ized.
The Marrakesh medina is touted as a steaming, honking, pulsing mess of humanity, and it doesn't disappoint. The famed open square Djemaa el-Fna is ground zero for witch doctors, meat stalls, buzzing gas lamps, and elbowing crowds.
Spontaneous street theater erupts, motorbikes nearly run tourists over, and multilingual boys offer to guide you through it all. Hassles, pushy shopkeepers, and plenty of tourists come along with the territory, adding to the chaotic energy that's become legendary.
The Tiznit medina has nothing to draw tourists; it's a functional urban area with no glitz or particular allure. This is why you won't see another foreign face, pay expensive hotel rates, or get baited into carpet shops.
Folks go about their daily business, meaning you get to explore a little deeper, let your guard down a little more, and spy on unself-conscious, daily Moroccan life.
Most likely, Tiznit will be a stop-off on your way either down the Atlantic Coast or into the Ameln Valley. Its low-keyness is your first clue that you're headed off the beaten path.
Due to its proximity to Fez, imperial city Meknes doesn't get as many visitors as it should. Which means you don't get as much hassle as you should. You won't be the only foreigner around, but you will be immersed in a sea of locals.
Inside the medina, there are plenty of jewelry and textile souqs (squares), but the thoroughfares that wrap around it like boa constrictors are the real draw.
Shoulder-to-shoulder throngs push past haphazard stalls selling cheap clothes, toiletries, bootleg DVDs, and other everyday goods. Hawkers shout, buyers dig through piles, and you get a pretty authentic experience.
The largest car-free urban zone in the world, the Fez medina is 9,000 tangling alleyways of Fassi history and Moroccan modernity. Continually inhabited for 1,200 years, the falling-down buildings are studded with satellite dishes.
Narrow lanes veer, turn, and dead-end; people step into doorways to make room for passing donkeys; and little boys offer to lead your lost self back into daylight (for a couple of dirhams).
Home to the oldest mosque in Africa and one of the oldest universities on earth, Fez's appeal lies in its rootedness and embrace of the present, and in its food. Nothing like a little lamb tagine to fuel you through a day of medina meandering.
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Lauren Quinn is a travel-addicted freelance writer based in Oakland, California. She's traveled independently (and once illegally) to over twenty countries across four continents. Her work has appeared on Matador, BootsnAll, Girl's Getaway, and lonelyplanet.com. Catch up with her at lonelygirltravels.com.
My name is Laura Silver, but I'm presently answering to anything from " Laur"? (pretty close) to " Little Song,"? (or " �宋). I'm 23 and living in rural Sichuan, China to work at a microfinance bank. I decided to pack up and move to the middle of nowhere to get a good sense for how microfinance organizations operate on the ground, to improve my Chinese, and generally to find out what rural life was like in China.
I only have a few more months left here, as well as some traveling in other parts of China, but I want to share some of the stories from my experience, as well as some tips about living and working abroad in China, especially if you are going to be six hours from any sort of Western or expat comforts.
Prior to moving to China I worked in Washington, DC for a year, and before that was a student at Wesleyan University in Connecticut. I had an interdisciplinary major and also studied international relations, taking four years of Mandarin as well. Turns out that those four years meant almost nothing when I got to a restaurant in China and could barely order food for myself, but five months in China have done a lot to fix that, thankfully.
I come by my love of travel honestly, as my parents would say, having started international travels at age eight when my parents took me to Southeast Asia. I'm also the daughter of an art historian so I have been to (dragged to?) more than my share of temples, mosques, pagodas, churches, art museums, etc. around the world. I even set myself a goal when I was in elementary school to always have been to more countries than I am years old. I'm more than making good on that pledge to this day.
Not long after I return to the States, I'm going to be packing up again to go on Semester at Sea, a floating university program that will be touring the Mediterranean this summer. I'll try and chronicle some of the best (and worst) of the seven ports we visit this summer.
I've really enjoyed blogging (minus the proxy hassles... China! Unblog blogspot!) for the last few months and am excited to share some of my reflections and commentary with this wider audience. Feel free to drop me a line-- I welcome feedback, suggestions, and more.
The Beach may have become a backpacker cliche for many by 2008; however, it continued to be a big motivator for me to explore Thailand.
My first few nights in Phuket were at the On On Hotel, which was featured in the movie's opening scenes when Richard was portrayed as staying in a cheap Bangkok hotel.
The broken window in my room reassured me that indeed, the hotel hadn't changed much since the movie!
Ready to book your ferry or flight to Phuket? Search online at Bookaway.
Then, I took the short ride to Patong, Phuket, for a few nights. I shot my first handgun, enjoyed good sushi, and explored the sex tourism capital of the world.
Seriously, every night like clockwork, a legion of prostitutes would arrive on Bangla Road and get to work.
The scene of tourists - men, women, couples, and even some children, walking down the street taking it all in was very reminiscent of Amsterdam's red-light district.
I was only supposed to stay two nights, but I got sick with some form of infection which left me so exhausted, for so long, I contemplated a return to the USA for the first time in my nine months of travel.
Next in the series, I reach the long-awaited Maya Bay and explore the beautiful Koh Phi Phi islands.
My last New York City meal of 2009 was at Mercadito Cantina in the East Village.
It just so happened that I was leaving on a Wednesday, and Tuesday night's special is an all-you-can-eat feast of gourmet tacos.
My brother, friend Kai, and I all wanted the tacos, while Kai's friend did not. Due to a (reasonable) concern on the part of the restaurant about cheating, we had to buy a 4th order of the tacos if we wanted our 4th person to be able to stay seated at our table.
And once the dust of that confusion settled, the plates of tacos came out like clockwork until we were stuffed beyond belief.
All of the tacos were rich and wonderful, however my favorite were the Carnitas - michoacan style braised berkshire pork, cacahuate salsa. Muy delicioso!
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Mercadito Cantina - 172 Avenue B (between 10th & 11th St), New York City
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Have you ever watched travel movies, and while the credits were rolling up, thought to yourself, "I so want to travel there now?"
Movies are a great way to inspire, motivate and bring to light unique places in the world.
To be honest, though, a Top 10 list is a joke and almost impossible to do.
I know some will be mad at this list. You didn't have Indian Jones anywhere. What the hell, you bastard! This is why I added to to the Honorable Mentions section at the end.
Others will be confused. Why is the City of God on this list?
And maybe, just maybe, a few will agree. But for the record, there is no perfect list.
For me, though, after I watched these travel movies, I wanted to book a flight the next day and head there, so maybe you will too.
So to keep it civil and fair, if you have a movie to add, please do so in the comments section.
I know I couldn't fit them all in, but I would love to hear your favorites or even your Top 10 list as well.
Table of Contents
Ok, I know some of you will stop reading right now just because of this one, but you have to admit when you first watched it, it made you want to look for Daffy in Thailand.
It's been overused and abused by the backpacking community as the staple for what backpackers should do, and if you have traveled more than a few months, odds are you have seen The Beach in your hostels at least 10x.
That being said, it's still a good movie and made me want to see Phi Phi Island in person one day (which I did and loved it!).
After receiving a not-so-secret map to a secluded island from a stoned-out loony (Robert Carlyle, full of dark portent and spittle), Richard sets out to find the hidden paradise with a young French couple (Virginie Ledoyen, Guillaume Canet).
What they find is a tropical commune existing in delicate balance with Thai pot farmers, and before long--as always--there's trouble in paradise.
There's trouble in the movie, too, as DiCaprio is reduced to histrionics when the plot turns into a muddled mix of Lord of the Flies and Apocalypse Now, with shark attacks tossed in for shallow tension.
Jeff Shannon
This movie doesn't show the traveler the perfect beaches of Brazil or the famous sites.
It does show you the struggles of real life in one of the most dangerous cities in the world, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
The whole movie is in Portuguese, but you don't even notice having to read the subtitles because it grabs you from the start and never let's go.
It will make you think twice about traveling to Rio, but at the same time, it will make you want to see it that much more.
Celebrated with worldwide acclaim, this powerful true story of crime and redemption has won numerous prestigious awards around the globe!
The streets of the world's most notorious slum, Rio de Janeiro's "City of God," are a place where combat photographers fear to tread, police rarely go, and residents are lucky if they live to the age of 20.
In the midst of the oppressive crime and violence, a frail and scared young boy will grow up to discover that he can view the harsh realities of his surroundings with a different eye: the eye of an artist.
In the face of impossible odds, his brave ambition to become a professional photographer becomes a window into his world ... and ultimately his way out!
Amazon.com
This one doesn't get much attention, but I found it worthy because I think too many people can relate to it.
Mid-life crises, an unexpected trip to China, and bang next thing you know, it's life-changing.
It's filled with lots of cultural interactions from East meets West, and after watching it, you'll want to see China too.
Be sure to pay extra attention to the taxi scene because you will encounter this in your travels at some point.
Set in two dichotomous worlds, Shanghai Kiss tells the story of a Chinese-American actor who doesn't quite fit in anywhere.
In his hometown, he's considered a foreigner even though he's American. And in his family's native China, his mannerisms make him stick out in sea of familiar faces.
Ken Leung (The Sopranos) does a wonderful job portraying Liam Liu, a complicated young man whose flirtation with the teenage Adelaide (Hayden Panettiere, Heroes) is reminiscent of Timothy Hutton's cautious infatuation with the Natalie Portman character in 1996's Beautiful Girls.
Jae-Ha Kim
Who doesn't love this movie?
I mean, it has everything: funny one-liners, covers most of Europe, highlights all the unique things about each country (the drinking of Absinthe in Amsterdam was priceless!) to why we travel in the first place... to score and get laid!
This movie will have you laughing and make you want to buy a one-way ticket to Europe to see for yourself why "Scotty doesn't know..."
Eurotrip views the Old World as a goofy parade of soccer hooligans, horny camera saleswomen, and pawing lechers reeking of cologne.
After being dumped by his girlfriend, Scotty (Scott Mechlowicz) discovers that the German e-mail correspondent he thought was a guy is actually a hot girl--so naturally he jets off to Europe to find her, joined by his friends Cooper (Jacob Pitts), Jamie (Travis Wester), and Jenny (Michelle Trachtenburg, trying to leap into sexier roles after her adolescent characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Harriet the Spy).
Bret Fetzer
Written by Fancies Ford Coppola's daughter, Sofia Coppola, this movie throws you right in the middle of modern-day Japan from the perspective of someone who knows nothing about its ways.
You will feel just as lost as Bill Murray was but at the same time ok with it.
If you want the feeling of being in a new country and not understanding anything... this movie is the one!
Like a good dream, Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation envelops you with an aura of fantastic light, moody sound, head-turning love, and a feeling of deja vu, even though you've probably never been to this neon-fused version of Tokyo. Certainly Bob Harris has not.
The 50-ish actor has signed on for big money shooting whiskey ads instead of doing something good for his career or his long-distance family.
Jetlagged, helplessly lost with his Japanese-speaking director, and out of sync with the metropolis, Harris (Bill Murray, never better) befriends the married but lovelorn 25-year-old Charlotte (played with heaps of poise by 18-year-old Scarlett Johansson).
Even before her photographer husband all but abandons her, she is adrift like Harris but in a total entrapment of youth.
Doug Thomas
Director Danny Boyle must know something about movies that involve exotic locations and traveling (he also directed "The Beach," see #10).
The plot, the acting, the travels through India, and the soundtrack all make this movie awesome!
Never mind all the awards Slumdog Millionaire won because this means little to a backpacker.
We want to know what it's like to live in India, and this movie delivers on that in a new way.
Jamal Malik (Dev Patel) is just one question away from winning a fortune on India's version of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"
But how has this uneducated young man from the slums succeeded in providing correct responses to questions that have stumped countless scholars before him?
And will he ultimately win it all or lose everything, including his true love?
Amazon.com
This one is for you ladies out there!
Getting a divorce, buying a shamrock villa in the Tuscany region of Italy, and learning to cook has never looked so good until after you have watched this beautiful movie.
It's the romantic idea all women have and makes you want to put your corporate life behind and soak up another culture.
Based on the #1 New York Times best-selling book, Under The Tuscan Sun follows San Francisco writer Frances Mayes (Lane) to Italy as a good friend offers her a special gift -- 10 days in Tuscany.
Once there, she is captivated by its beauty and warmth, and impulsively buys an aging, but very charming, villa.
Fully embracing new friends and local color, she finds herself immersed in a life-changing adventure filled with enough unexpected surprises, laughter, friendship, and romance to restore her new home -- and her belief in second chances.
Amazon.com
A must-see and an obvious choice!
It's what most backpackers dream of doing one day, and although the guy took his travels to the extreme, it has inspired many people to let go and see the world in a new way.
If you want the feeling of leaving everything behind in search of proving to yourself that you can see the world, consider Into the Wild your #1 movie.
This is the true story of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsch).
Freshly graduated from college with a promising future ahead, McCandless instead walked out of his privileged life and into the wild in search of adventure.
What happened to him on the way transformed this young wanderer into an enduring symbol for countless people -- a fearless risk-taker who wrestled with the precarious balance between man and nature.
Amazon.com
If you haven't seen this movie... shame on you!
It's all in Spanish, but who cares, as who doesn't want to take a motorcycle trip across a continent with your best friend, living from town to town, using your wits to get by, and in the process, you learn a valuable life lesson.
Oh, plus start a military coup, win a revolution, and become an icon for sticking it to the man. Yeah, you'll be pumped after this movie.
The beauty of the South American landscape and of Gael Garcia Bernal (Y Tu Mama Tambien, Bad Education) gives The Motorcycle Diaries a charisma that is decidedly apolitical.
But this portrait of the young Che Guevara (later to become a militant revolutionary) is half buddy-movie, half social commentary--and while that may seem an unholy hybrid, under the guidance of Brazillian director Walter Salles (Central Station) the movie is quietly passionate.
Guevara and his friend Alberto Granado (Rodrigo de la Serna, a lusty and engaging actor) set off from Buenos Aires, hoping to circumnavigate the continent on a leaky motorcycle.
They end up travelling more by foot, hitchhiking, and raft, but their experience of the land and the people affects them profoundly.
No movie could affect an audience the same way, but The Motorcycle Diaries gives a soulful glimpse of an awakening social conscience, and that's worth experiencing.
Bret Fetzer
And the #1 pick is another movie that most people don't know about, but Outsourced covers everything.
Love in a foreign country, forgetting your Western ways, adopting local customs, finding yourself at the end of the road, and knowing what you want.
If you watch this movie and don't want to see India, then sorry, my friend, you are a lost soul.
There are so many things about this movie that people can learn from when traveling.
I found it to be beyond inspiring!
Todd Anderson (Josh Hamilton-Kicking and Screaming, The Bourne Identity) gets the bad news from his boss: his job has been outsourced. Adding insult to injury, Todd must travel to India to train his own replacement.
Through a series of hilarious misadventures, this charming, critically acclaimed romantic comedy reminds us that sometimes getting lost is the best way to find yourself.
Amazon.com
Honorable Mentions
