Aside from river tubing in Vang Vieng, I didn't know what Laos would hold for me. Crossing over from Cambodia, I quickly found myself on Don Det, one of the better "developed" islands situated in the midst of the Mekong River in southern Laos. Life was slow, very slow. Sip a beer, talk with other travelers, watch the muddy water wash by, and maybe go for a walk.
When it came time to move onward with my new Parisian friends, we headed further north to check out an old temple complex, Wat Phu.
There are a lot of activities you can book from Luang Prabang in northern Laos.
As I planned to do a multi-day hill tribe trek across the border in Thailand, I decided to opt for a mountain biking excursion, which included my first elephant ride.
By the time my guide and I reached the waterfalls and ate lunch, it had started to rain.
Needless to say, the rest of the way back to town, which included 10 km on the mountain bike, was less than pleasant.
I'm not usually one to broadcast my religion as I travel, but around Christmas time, as people continuously asked me how I celebrate the holiday, I began to tell them I was Jewish.
To date, every single person to whom I have told I am Jewish has responded with the same thing: " You're so smart!"? Um, thanks? You've probably never met a Jew before, where is that stereotype coming from?
Well, it turns out that in this town, it's coming from the geography class where the students are taught that Ashkenazi Jews have the highest IQs of any minzu, or ethnic group. While that doesn't explain where the stereotype comes from in other cities, I have to assume it's similar.
Sometimes reactions have also involved follow-ups. Most of the time, it's simply that we're really good at business. Ok, that stereotype is worldwide, I get where that came from. Others have been less founded in reality, or more hilarious.
A coworker, for example, once petted my arm for awhile and asked me to teach her. She didn't specify what I should teach her, but seemed to hope that any teaching coming from my minzu would be particularly awesome.
One person, upon hearing that I was Jewish, paused, squinted at me, and then said, " Well, why aren't you black?"? The person next to her then told her she was an idiot, Jews aren't black, so that probably isn't a commonly held misconception, but it does highlight that these stereotypes are based not on actually having met any Jews.
And, perhaps my favorite moment came when I actually asked why people think Jews are so smart. We were near computers, so this friend typed into BaiDu, the most popular search Engine in China, " Which ethnic group is smartest?"?-- top hit? Jews. Nice. If the internet confirms it, it must be true.
As I mentioned, this came up most around Christmas, as people really couldn't figure out why I don't celebrate the holiday. People usually looked perplexed and then asked, " Why don't you have a New Year?"?-- turns out there's a common misconception that because Christmas is the biggest holiday in the US, that it's also our New Year, similar to the Chinese New Year. It took me awhile, but I finally figured out the confusion.
At least in this town, not a single person knew that Christmas was related to the birth of Christ. Old Man Christmas (the literal translation for Santa Clause in Chinese) was known, presents were known, and many in this town even " celebrated"? Christmas (giving gifts and eating a lot), but no one knew about the religious aspects. It's funny what we export, eh?
Once I set some folks straight, I told them my own Christmas tradition involved eating Chinese food. Now that was well-received, and many joined in my festivities.
I boarded the Megabus to New York City yesterday to attend a roundtable discussion about how social media has impacted the travel industry.
The panelists included:
To be honest, I enjoyed meeting people at the event more than the actual discussion (search #NYSMRT on Twitter), though I did find it interesting how Meg approaches social media from a professional PR standpoint, and Stacy was leveraging Twitter to gain business for her travel agency.
I had already become familiar with the social media success of the Roger Smith Hotel at the last roundtable I attended in Tribeca.
Before the event, I bumped into Mike from Vagabondish, who was just as funny in person as he was when I interviewed him for Travel Blog Success.
I also met Robert Reid from Lonely Planet (and Reid on Travel), Pete Meyers from EuroCheapo, Anna from Frill Seeker Diary (and moderator for the night), and a few others.
I confirmed with Sean and Alisha from Sosauce that their office had fully recovered from the New Year's Eve fire.
After the post-discussion mingling settled down, a bunch of us headed to Tavern on Jane for beers and late-night buffalo burgers.
Our motley crew included Robert, Kim, Mike, Michaela from Briefcase to Backpack and her husband, Erick from Adventure Insider, and myself.
The banter was off the charts, and I teared up more than once from the laughter. If last night was any indication of what the Travel Blog Exchange conference will be like in June, we're all in for A LOT of fun that weekend.
This is a guest post by Emily Baughman. If you want to guest post on Go Backpacking, please read more here.
The Smell of Genocide
I once burned (accidentally) three strands of my hair
heavy putrid wafts swallowed the room
and all adjoining enclaves down the hall.
Does my nose dare imagine
a head of blonde disappearing to black ash?
What is the smell of genocide?
Is it gardenias that grow in Rwanda?
flourishing in blood-rich soil
the fragrance of spring, this fanciful Venetian mask
like rose water enshrouding a cheap whore
forevermore the musk of atrocity
What is the smell of genocide?
Or the crows in Poland savaging for
worms squirming their way among human skulls.
the defecation of the living
the sweet smelling mockery of lesser forms
What is the smell of genocide?
Perhaps, the sharp cloud of cadaverine
when the upper arm becomes a humerus
When the last drops of marrow
seeped from the bleached bones of Cambodia.
What is the smell of genocide?
Abandoned shoes of old rotting leather.
The warden's sandalwood cologne.
The garlic breath of the executioner.
What is the smell of genocide?
What is the smell of genocide?
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About the Author: Emily Baughman has a big appetite for unconventional adventures. She also enjoys sticky rice. Contact her at emilyabaughman(at)gmail.com
Photos: David Lee
In an effort to go off the beaten track in Cambodia, I decided to explore the rural, northeast province. Aside from my minivan breaking down both on the way there, and on the way out, I had the chance to visit ethnic villages and swim in my first volcano crater lake.
Next week, we head into southern Laos along the Mekong River.
No traveler can leave their home country without travel health insurance; being injured abroad is an event that no traveler wants to face.
Facing a severe injury abroad without the support net of travel insurance makes an already bad situation worse.
Holiday Extras is a UK-based company that has been serving the travel community for over 25 years.
They arrange travel insurance, airport parking, and other related services for over 5 million travelers annually.
They offer complete coverage for single trips as well as annual policies for frequent travelers.
For example, a one week holiday in the Caribbean, including full health insurance, cancellation insurance, and protection against lost or stolen luggage, is only £33.
On average, Holiday Extras offers more comprehensive coverage than its leading competitors.
For instance, in the above example, Holiday Extras is both cheaper and offers more coverage than World Nomads.
Also, Holiday Extras offers £5,000,000 in emergency medical insurance, while World Nomads only offers £3,000,000.
Holidays Extras exceeded my expectations when it came to understanding their policies; not only do they provide a standard legal document detailing your policy, but they also provide a document describing the key points of your policy so you don't have to sift through complicated legalese.
Policies are available for all ages under 86, though children and senior citizens may be subject to reduced coverage.
Holiday Extras does not cover any claim relating to excessive alcohol intake, and as a result, they may not be the best choice for wild backpackers; however, they are an excellent choice for families traveling abroad as those under 18 are covered free of charge.
One part of Holiday Extras' policies that I do find troubling is the exemption from cancellation insurance.
If a relative who is not on the trip becomes ill, you are not covered if they required treatment or prescribed medicine in the 90 days before departure.
Many, if not most of us, have relatives who would fall into this category.
Depending on your situation, this may be a point of concern.
Coverage is only available to those whose primary residence is within the UK. Still, for those eligible, Holiday Extras is an excellent option for not just holiday insurance, but cancellation and theft insurance as well.
In particular, families should seriously consider their policies as the potential cost savings are considerable.
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This story was brought to you in partnership with Holiday Extras.
After my Annapurna trek, I returned to Kathmandu for my last week in Nepal.
I could only handle a few nights in rockin' Thamel (the tourist district) after having experienced the tranquility of Pokhara, so I sought refuge in nearby Boudha, home to one of the valley's seven World Heritage Sites.
My new base camp was much quieter at night, and by spending my last few days in Nepal there, I was able to photograph Boudhanath Stupa at all times of day, from sunrise to sunset.
I observed the daily life of the Tibetans who lived there.
I watched them walk around the stupa, spinning prayer wheels, and counting their prayers on malas (beaded necklaces). I walked around spinning prayer wheels too.
And I bought a few wonderful souvenirs from the shops that enveloped the stupa.
Tibetan Buddhism is alive and well in Boudha, and it quickly became one of my favorite places in the world.
The sky is filled with flickering lights and shapes, and the crowd marvel at the spectacle above them. The annual Bristol International Balloon Fiesta is famous for the Night Glows, the most popular part of the four-day festival.
The pilots create various dazzling effects from "burn', "flicker' and "flash' which are set to music.
The array of sequences is impressive and expertly choreographed, and the dramatic finale is a colorful firework display that leaves even the most mature feeling like young children again. It's a night to remember!
The Fiesta began in September 1978 after Don Cameron of Cameron Balloons (the world's largest balloon manufacturer) decided to create an event for ballooning enthusiasts.
Local firms sponsored balloons and were allowed to help crew them.
A small gathering of balloonists from England, Ireland, Germany, and Luxembourg came together at Ashton Court (less than 2 miles from the city center) to celebrate what was to become the first-ever Bristol International Balloon Fiesta.
Spectators witnessed a mass ascent of 27 balloons and marveled at the weekend's 117 flights. A great success for Don, he decided to make the event an annual fixture.
Bristol is now a world center for ballooning, and the International Balloon Fiesta is Europe's largest balloon event, with over 100 balloons attending and crowds coming in their hundreds of thousands.
Seeing the Fiesta for yourself is well worth it, but good vantage points are at a premium, so get there early!
The event is held in August over a long weekend (Thursday to Sunday). Ashton Court opens on Thursday, and you can check out the various stalls and a free pop concert.
The first Night Glow is one of the Fiesta's most significant attractions as thousands of people flock to the official opening ceremony to catch sight of the breathtaking spectacle of some 30 tethered balloons illuminating the night sky.
There is another Night Glow on Saturday.
Related: Cappadocia Hot Air Balloon Ride
The unique shaped balloons are also launched on Thursday at about 6 pm. You can see all sorts of wacky shapes, from cathedrals to lighthouses!
If mass ascents are more your thing, they happen between 6 am and 6 pm on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
Over 100 balloons take off in less than half an hour from a small patch of ground.
Many take part in a "hunt' across the sky for the "hare' (a balloon that takes off ahead of the rest).
You can see large clusters of balloons in hot pursuit. The pilot from the 'hounds' who manages to land nearest the 'hare' wins.
The festival's success relies on the weather as balloons need calm and clear skies to fly, the unique shapes even more so.
No need to worry because throughout the Fiesta, there are sideshows such as stunt bikes, parachute displays, and, if you are lucky, even the Red Arrows demonstrate their daredevil skills.
To see events from a higher perspective, take a ride in the basket of a balloon. It's a fantastic feeling drifting with the wind.
The journey is silent, apart from the firing of the burner to gain height. Sounds on the ground can be heard as you drift through the skies.
The landing will not necessarily be a smooth experience, though. You are sitting back in the basket in a brace position; you hit the ground with a thud.
The basket will not always stay upright either, as the balloon can drag it over the land. That said, the experience is fantastic, and if anything, the landing adds to the adventure.
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About the Author: Rebecca Tom lives in England and loves to travel. You can catch up with her on Twitter @travelsoon1.
Vaccines are just one of those things that every traveler needs, but nobody wants to get or pay for it.
The farther afield you venture, the more vaccinations you will need.
Southeast Asia may be a common backpacking destination, but that does not preclude the necessity for preventive vaccinations.
Canada's universal health care system is truly great for most health issues, and for the most part, I wouldn't change it.
But one thing that is not covered is what Manitoba Health considers travel medicine.
This means that any visits to a doctor for vaccinations, prescriptions or consultations are not covered.
My trip to a local travel medicine clinic marked the first time in my life I have ever paid to visit a doctor, though it is still hard to argue with a $45 charge for the first visit and $20 for each follow-up.
Through my own research, I had concluded that I would need to be covered for Hepatitis A & B, Typhoid, Polio, Rabies, and Japanese Encephalitis.
In addition, I took the opportunity to be vaccinated against H1N1 and the seasonal flu late last year.
Prior to my visit to the travel clinic, I did talk to a walk-in clinic doctor and was not impressed by his lack of knowledge.
He also wasn't able to prescribe the Japanese Encephalitis vaccine.
This is where a travel clinic really becomes useful; not only are they knowledgeable and travel-trained, but they have all the vaccines on hand so there is no need for a trip to the pharmacist.
My goal going in was to be covered against only what I needed, with the ultimate goal of keeping costs down. I received the Twinrix vaccination for both Hepatitis A & B.
Though it does appear expensive at first, it does cover me for almost a quarter of my life and is much more cost-effective than separate shots for A and B.
I had two options for Typhoid, a shot that would cover me for 3 years, or a few pills that would cover me for 7 years. At only $5 more, the pills were a bargain.
Perhaps the biggest advantage of using the travel clinic was that I was advised against some vaccines, allowing me to keep costs down.
The Rabies vaccine is not only expensive at $800, but not necessary unless I were planning for close contact with wild animals.
I was also advised against the Japanese Encephalitis vaccine, as it shouldn't affect me, and the vaccine itself may be largely ineffective.
I had overlooked the need for other types of preventative medicine, but the staff at Skylark Medical Clinic made sure that I was aware of the risks for Malaria and traveler's diarrhea.
They suggested a daily pill for Malaria prevention, but I refused in order to keep costs down.
As a result, I did get very frank advice on what to do if I develop a fever.
Without this advice, I would have likely just stuck out any illness I contracted rather than seek help; a potentially life-saving nugget of information.
If I do start to run a fever in Asia, I will seek medical help within 24 hours, in accordance with her advice.
In the likely event that I am hit with a bout of traveler's diarrhea, I received a double prescription of Zithromax.
Ciprofloxacin is the standard prescription but is less effective in Cambodia. I hope I never need to use it, but at least I'm covered.
All told, my vaccinations and medicine only cost me about $250, which is much less than I had expected.
Much more valuable then even the vaccines was the advice I received.
The staff knew what I needed and were familiar with the region I was visiting.
They made sure that I was educated and had the right information.
I can't recommend the services of a travel clinic enough to anyone planning a trip abroad.
Below is a chart of the vaccinations I received and several online resources for vaccinations.
Links
Notes
This post does not constitute medical advice. Be sure to consult a medical expert when deciding which vaccinations and/or prescriptions you should get for your trip. All prices in this article are in Canadian Dollars.
A few weeks ago, I entered a contest for travel bloggers and writers sponsored by Rwanda Tourism for a free, 6-day VIP tour of the tiny central-African country.
Entry was simple, I tweeted their message just once. It was so simple, in fact, that after looking over the Facebook page with the contest rules, I didn't think anything of it.
Then, a few days ago, I saw that Kristin Luna announced on her blog, Camels and Chocolate, that she and Katie Hammel (new Editor at BootsnAll) won.
I was happy for them, and buried my nose back in my laptop. And then, a few days ago, I received a tweet from Ben, who is representing Rwanda for the trip.
Turns out they had an opening (Katie couldn't make it after all), and it was being offered to yours truly!
I am bouncing-off-the-walls excited to announce that I've accepted the 6-day tour of Rwanda!
That's right, there is no way I could pass up the chance to see endangered mountain gorillas in the wild, track chimpanzees, and learn about the tragic genocide that occurred there all too recently.
More specifically, the tour will include:
1. Rwanda's Volcanoes National Park and Nyungwe National Park
2. The cities of Kigali (capital) and Gisenyi
3. Gorilla trekking and bird watching
4. Rwanda 's newly launched boat on Lake Kivu
5. The canopy walk in Nyungwe and the Congo-Nile trail
The organized tour with myself, Kristin, and 3 other journalists will occur from March 20-26, 2007, however I intend to allow myself a few extra days in the capital city of Kigali to hopefully enjoy a homestay with the locals, and decompress before and after my flights on Ethiopian Airlines (via Addis Ababa).
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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Table of Contents
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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.
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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, 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.
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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.
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Photo Credit: All photos courtesy of David Lee.