Travel is fun until you get sick, and that’s when it all gets a little bit complicated. The issue is that no one is immune to accidental illness whilst abroad, because our immune systems aren’t necessarily used to the bugs and viruses that spread across different nations.

Let’s face it, the likelihood of us catching a cold in our own country is high — abroad it’s practically a guarantee. There are ways to prevent yourself from getting sick though. So do yourself a favour, and one night when you’d usually be playing Partypoker, do some research into the country you plan to visit.

Vaccination

It is a good idea to check with your doctor if all of your vaccinations are up to date before you leave the country. You are more prone to catching something potentially dangerous abroad because you are out of your comfort zone. You should also research whether you’d require additional vaccination for certain countries.

Water

It isn’t wise to drink the local water when you head abroad. Many countries across Europe and Asia do not have the same facilities to purify their water like the US or the UK. And while it doesn’t hurt the locals to brush their teeth or swallow the water from the tap, your immune system won’t be used to it like theirs. Only drink and brush your teeth using bottled water.

Food

Have you ever considered eating at the hotel, instead of going out for food? Normally in the tourist areas, it is perfectly safe to eat the food in the restaurants, because they are used to catering for foreigners. However in some areas you could get sick from the food served. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that because it is a chain restaurant. It will be safe. Often the most well known food places, are the potential hazard in other countries.

Follow these three basic rules, make sure you have travel insurance, and enjoy your travels.

I believe in love at first sight. My extensive travel the past several years has galvanized my views on this matter, to the point where you might say I believe in no other kind of love.

When I know my time with someone is limited — and when I travel, my time with any one person is always limited — I allow myself to be vulnerable from the get-go. For a time, I am madly in love with a person I barely know; and, if I’m lucky, he is madly in love with me.

However madly in love I fall, I never hesitate to leave on schedule. But I often wonder: What would happen if, just one time, I decided to stay?

Metered Affection

I met Will in front of the romantic “Shopping Center 3″ on São Paulo’s Avenida Paulista, with the express intent of checking into a nearby sex motel. In Brazil, motels especially designed to facilitate casual sex between strangers are commonplace.

We paid for our three-hour stay as if we were children buying bubble gum at a gas station; We wasted no time getting down to business once were inside the room. To say that fireworks went off is like saying a car bomb exploded in Hiroshima in 1945.

Initially, I wondered whether I had unwittingly hired a prostitute — how else could a man I barely knew make love like this? I wouldn’t realize until the following night that he was making love because he actually loved me.

Although we also spent our second night together in a sex motel, our intentions were more pure. We clutched each other tightly as the clamor of Avenida Paulista grew louder with the rising sun; that the room service menu consisted of dildos and flavored lubes was a moot point.

I can still remember the sweaty smoothness of his skin as I held his hand in mine, the third and final time I saw him. I briefly weighed the possibility of not boarding my bus to Rio the next afternoon, but by then my mind had taken already taken over — the beach was beckoning!

Israeli Defense Mechanism

When I made his acquaintance online, Liron had offered me but a single sleep on the floor of his Tel Aviv apartment. Within moments of my knocking on his door at 4 a.m., however, our bodies were locked together like ionically-bonded atoms.

“Stay as long as you want,” he said. “Or as little as you want. But please, stay.” In my mind, I planned to remain in Tel Aviv just a few days, having wanted to explore the rest of Israel before moving on to Egypt. I should leave soon, I thought. I will leave soon.

But Liron was taking care of me. He cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner for me. He would call me out when I said something inhibitive or self-deprecating. He would hold me at night, even the night I came home at 6 a.m. from a party where I made out with no less than a dozen other guys.

When I look back, I realize that my behavior was some sort of sick defense mechanism. I’m in the most hedonistic city in the Middle East, I would tell myself, surrounded by the most beautiful men in the world. And they all want to have sex with me.

But Liron, I would realize as I headed westward across North Africa, had wanted to do more than have sex with me. I imagined his lanky arm around me as I lay freezing in my tent, alone under the stars of Moroccan Sahara weeks later. I felt comforted; but I also felt foolish.

Precious Cargo

Björn was a German grad student living in Amsterdam’s Western suburbs, in a building made of used oversea cargo containers that had been painted bright colors. He was hanging out his makeshift window smoking a cigarette when I walked up.

You know the drill by now: We kissed; we got hot and bothered; we went all the way. But I was lovestruck as he rode me back to my Warmoestraat hostel on his bike the next morning.

He rode me home on his bike — who does that? I thought. What a casanova. He was a human horse-drawn carriage.

I hadn’t actually planned to see him the next day; I had an afternoon flight to Libson to catch. But I ended up back in his tiny cargo crate anyway, savoring the friction between our hairy bodies until the last possible moment.

“If it wasn’t about to be winter,” I said as he rode me back to the city center one last time. “I would stay.”

“You should stay anyway,” he said as we approached Amsterdam’s Centraal station. “I’ll keep you warm, in my shipping container.”

Over the Border

Like I always do, however, I shipped myself home and said “yes” to the first Austin hipster who asked me on a date. Par with the course, I lusted after him for a while, then ended up disappointed. Why, I always think, don’t any of these guys do anything? Why don’t they want anything?

Without fail, I get restless and before I know it, I’m off on my next trip. Yet ironically, when I happen upon the next handsome stranger who wants something — namely, a chance to treat me exactly how I want and need to be treated — I write it off as lust.

He didn’t really love me anyway, I always think upon leaving, even as I daydream about what it might have been like to stay in his city, to share his bed every night, to learn his language and teach him mine.

It’s never until I’m over the border that I hear the faint whisper of truth. “Yes, he did.”

Iguazú Falls is among the most hyped nature destinations in South America, right up there with Salar de Uyuni and Patagonia. All the reviews I’d heard about the falls were uniformly glowing — and that’s how I knew I’d probably be disappointed.

To be fair, Iguazú Falls itself is nothing short of awe-inspiring, whether you see the waterfall from the Argentina or Brazil side. The overall experience of seeing Iguazú Falls, however, made me roll my eyes.

Location of Iguazú Falls in Argentina

Iguazú Falls is located in tropical northern Argentina

Iguazú Falls is located about 20 minutes from the town of Porto Iguazú, Argentina, which is about 17 hours from Buenos Aires (by bus). Although its surroundings are tropical and wild, the entrance to the park seems more befitting of a commercial zoo.

After paying 100 pesos (~ 25 U.S. dollars) to enter, you’ll notice that the land in front of you has been clear-cut as far as you can see. The concrete path is brand-new; even the “scenic” trail you use to walk to the falls (if you don’t take the tourist train) is paved.

Around the time you begin to hear the rushing of the falls, the path ends and you walk onto a plastic-covered, metal-grate bridge. By this time, your surroundings are once again exotic, but somehow the fact that you’re walking over a rock-solid bridge negates that.

If the roar of the Igauzú Falls doesn’t deafen you by the time you arrive at the main viewing area, the steady click-clack of camera and shutters will. That’s if you can get close enough to Iguazú Falls to see it — even early in the morning, the viewing area is packed.

The “Argentina Side” of Iguazú Falls

The bridge to Iguazú Falls

I probably sound cynical and bitter, but I promise I’m not: I truly enjoyed the 10 seconds I got to see the Iguazú Falls up-close and personal. “10 seconds?” you ask. “Why did you only get to see Iguazú Falls for 10 seconds?”

The answer is two-fold. As I mentioned earlier, the viewing area is packed to the gills its entire opening hours. The second is that the mist rising up from the falls is extremely heavy and damp: My lens instantly fogged; within 5 seconds my entire camera was soaked.

To be sure, most of the other visitors I observed during my short time at the falls itself stayed only long enough to take a picture or two, to gaze dramatically toward the face of the falls, and then leave in short order.

Iguazú Falls was the first large waterfall I’d ever visited: I never bothered with Niagara Falls; I’ve never been to Venezuela to see Angel Falls, or to Zambia to see Victoria Falls. Perhaps “seeing” a waterfall is a rather quick experience by its very nature?

The “Brazil Side” of Iguazú Falls

Iguazú Falls is beautiful -- I think?

I only attempted to see Iguazú Falls from the Argentina side. There is also a Brazilian side, which Brazilians (and approximately half of foreign tourists) insist is “better” than the Argentina side.

I can only hope that it is wilder, more left intact. Indeed, when I make the effort to see nature (rather than staying in cities, where I am comfortable and, oddly, more stimulated), I want to be as out in the sticks as possible. Paved paths = missing the point.

Like when I hiked two hours in the northern Philippines to see Banaue Rice Terraces. Or stayed three nights in hostels that had electricity only an hour a day while touring southwestern Bolivia. Or camped amid Saharan dunes in eastern Morocco.

Argentinian tourism officials have apparently determined that making Iguazú Falls accessible to the least adventurous tourists in the world is in their financial interest. If you are even the least bit adventurous, Iguazú Falls will probably disappoint you.

Once you decide that you want to teach English abroad, the next step is to actually find a job. Finding a job teaching English abroad is easy — it’s finding the right job teaching English abroad that’s difficult.

Applying and Interviewing for ESL Jobs

I lost my crappy restaurant job in January 2009  and decided that I wanted to teach English somewhere in Asia. I would learn quickly that in many ways, traditional job search logic flies out the window when seeking ESL jobs overseas.

I started my ESL job search on Thursday, the day I got fired. By the end of the weekend, the South Korean school to which I applied had not only interviewed me, but made me a job offer, to start April 1. Something about the situation felt too good to be true.

My phone interview with Cyrus, the recruiter, has lasted only 10 minutes; the interview with the actual school was even shorter. Even before I Googled the school to read about its reputation (it was all bad), I had a feeling they were desperate, probably with reason.

When I said I was no longer interested, both Cyrus and the school became aggressive with me, to the point of late-night phone calls. The entire experience put me off to the idea of teaching English overseas. I temporarily aborted my ESL job search.

Accepting an ESL Job Offer

I would resume my ESL job search at the end of the summer, after none of the applications I sent out to local employers bore fruit. I’d initially set my sights on the Japanese government’s JET Programme when I clicked an ad about teaching English in China.

I was a website bearing the “EF” logo. I knew the EF name from my middle school, where the company had operated European tours for rich kids — this was legit! I submitted my application materials as quickly as I could.

To my shock, the scenario that played out was almost identically to how the one in January had: I had an interview and job offer within a week. Only this one was with a large, seemingly reputable company. I was totally broke by this point, so I said yes.

Could it be, I thought as I signed the contract, that English schools in Asia are just as desperate as prospective ESL teachers like me?

Finding an ESL Job Abroad

From basically the moment I stepped off the plane, I became aware of how high the need for English instruction in China was. The number of English schools in Shanghai was staggering — some literally advertised their needs for teachers on billboards.

The takeaway here is two-fold. First, you shouldn’t refuse an ESL job offer just because the employer seems desperate or over-eager: Asia is desperate to learn to learn English; and English schools in Asia will hire basically any native English speaker.

Secondly, it isn’t absolutely necessary to procure an ESL job in advance of going abroad to Asia, not from the perspective that you won’t be able to find a job, anyway.

Where finding an ESL job “on the ground” can get difficult is immigration — in China for example, you have to begin the employment visa (and subsequently, residence permit) application process in your home country if you want to work legally.

Angkor Wat is without a doubt the most popular tourist attraction in Cambodia, having attracted more than a million visitors in the first eight months of 2011 alone. It has become the international symbol of contemporary Cambodia — and this is good in a way, since Cambodia was for many years associated with the genocide wrought by former dictator Pol Pot’s “Khmer Rouge” regime.

Not surprisingly, the crowds you encounter if you visit Angkor Wat these days are more befitting of Disneyland than semi-rural Southeast Asia. As I pushed my way through such unruly mobs when I visited the temple two years ago, I found myself asking a simple question: Is Angkor Wat really worth the fuss?

My Angkor Wat Experience

Tourists or not, visiting Angkor Wat was an awesome birthday present

I arranged to arrive at Angkor Wat (which, in case you didn’t know, was the “state temple” and capital city of Suryavarman II, who was emperor of the Khmer Empire that existed in modern Cambodia in the 12th century) on my 25th birthday back in 2010, after enjoying some time relaxing on Thailand’s idyllic Koh Mak island. When my friend Gina found out about my trip, she shared the details with her Facebook news feed.

One of her friends decided to rain Haterade on my parade. A few years ago, he wrote, Angkor Wat was nothing short of an archaeological site. Now, it’s like Six Flags Over Cambodia. It’s not even worth visiting — I can’t believe your friend is excited!

At the time, I was furious. How could this person so nonchalantly trash what were, at the time, my grandest travel plans ever?

Angkor Wat and Siem Reap

Even if you hate Angkor Wat, there are plenty of awesome things to see in Siem Reap

I didn’t know why he’d been such a dick, but I also didn’t give a rat’s ass. I arrived to Siem Reap, the city located nearest Angkor Wat, relatively late in the afternoon on my birthday. So late, in fact, that I got to the Angkor Wat admission gate literally minutes before it closed for the day.

I was shocked to find what appeared to be thousands of tourists stumbling around the Angkor Wat grounds. Actually, “shocked” isn’t the right word — the sun was about to set, after all, making for incredible photo opportunities most people would be crazy to miss.

To be sure, the crowds I encountered that day and on the two separate occasions I visited Angkor Wat after that weren’t enough to take away from the experience of being in the massive temple complex.

That’s another item to note: Angkor Wat is massive. Although you’re unlikely to get a shot of the main Angkor Wat façade without at least a few hundred tourists in the foreground, the temple complex extends for no less than a kilometer, and the further into it you walk, the less crowded it becomes. So there’s that.

And let’s assume you are disappointed when you arrive? No biggie. Siem Reap is cool as shit.

Cost of Visiting Angkor Wat

Come on, do you really think this is "overrated"?

I mentioned in the previous section that I visited Angkor Wat several times over the course of my Cambodia trip. That’s because I purchased a multi-day pass at the entry gate.

When I traveled to Cambodia in February 2010, a three-day Angkor Wat pass — in other words, unlimited visits over the course of three consecutive days — cost $40, payable in U.S. dollars. I would imagine the cost of the pass has increased since then. By contrast, a one-day ticket cost $20. So, in effect, I saved $20 by purchasing the three-day pass.

What does this mean for you? Even if the price has increased (and as I said, I’d almost bet money that is has) you are probably better off purchasing the three-day pass, rather than a one-day ticket. The worst-case scenario is that you visit only once and you’re out the premium you paid. But again, I doubt this will be the case — you will definitely be able to find enjoyment in the outer reaches of the temple complex.

And how exactly do you get to Agnkor Wat? Simply take a tuk-tuk or taxi from Siem Reap’s center, located approximately four kilometers away. You shouldn’t expect to pay more than $1 each way, although your driver will probably quote you more than this initially.

Angkor Wat Alternatives

Ta Prohm speaks for itself RE: why you should visit

The great thing about the Siem Reap area is that it’s far from a one-man show: Angkor Wat is but one of many incredible ancient temples in the area, even if all of them don’t have the same incredible history as Angkor Wat.

My personal favorite of these is Ta Prohm, a smaller temple complex that was built slightly later than Angkor Wat, originally serving as a monastery for Emperor Jayavarman VII. Ta Prohm, which is notable for the fact that trees quite literally grow out it, has gained modern notoriety after being featured prominently in the “Tomb Raider” film franchise.

Another popular temple located nearby Angkor Wat is Angkor Thom which, like Ta Prohm, was built by Jayavarman VII.

The bottom line is this: Even if you despise Angkor Wat (highly unlikely), there are more than enough amazing attractions in the Siem Reap area to keep you delighted and entertained.

The city of Cartagena, Colombia is known for the charm and splendor of its 500-year old centro historico, the nuevo-luxe of its Miami-like Boca Grande neighborhood and, more recently, the drama surrounding Obama’s Secret Service hooker scandal. One thing Cartagena is not known for is particularly beautiful beaches.

After you’ve finished strolling Cartagena’s colorful, bougainvillea-lined streets, take a speed boat (or a slow boat, if you prefer) to Isla de Beru, just a short jaunt at 50,000 pesos colombianos from the Cartagena boat terminal. What awaits you is an idyllic paradise that will make you feel shipwrecked — and, if you’ve only booked a day trip, like you should stay longer.

Playa Blanca's main beach, where your boat lets you off

I was initially a bit disappointed when I arrived at Playa Blanca. Heralded by literally every other backpacker I encountered as “Colombia’s Best Beach,” it seemed cluttered and even dirty in parts. Still, I couldn’t get past how content all my fellow beach goers seemed to be there.

Looking past the end of Playa Blanca's main stretch of beach

It seemed to take forever, but eventually my friend Kevin and I reached the end the crowds. The beach beyond that point was deserted; the clear, calm surf was devoid of swimmers. I wasn’t yet convinced that Playa Blanca was the best beach I’d ever seen, but I was beginning to feel comfortable there.

Even canoes can't get enough of Playa Blanca

As we walked further down Playa Blanca, the beach took on an idyllic, shipwrecked feel. Empty canoes sat in the still, swimming pool-like water; most of the cabanas were empty. All of a sudden, I heard a shout.

“Texas!” It was John, a guy from California I’d met in Santa Marta a few days earlier. He invited Kevin and I into the cabana where he’d been staying.

Get out of the sun under one of Playa Blanca's tropical cabanas

We set pretty immediately to rolling a joint. As the high set in, we caught up with each other — or, I should say, we got to know one another. I had only talked to John for a few minutes before he left Santa Marta for Cartagena.  I let myself cool off in the shade, then we headed out into the sea for a swim.

Enjoy a traditional Colombian Caribbean lunch of fried fish, coconut rice and fried plantains

As we floated on top of the gentle waves, I began to realize why John had been camped out on Playa Blanca for five days. The pace of life was as slow as I was moving through the thick, humid air; the breeze was as soft and sooting as the hammock I was lying in.

After lunch, visit with one of the friendly vendors who have set up shop along Playa Blanca

On the way out of the water, I bought a “Coco Loco” from one of the many vendors that can be found walking up and down the beach. A concoction made with coconut water, several different types of rum, cream (and, in my case, vodka), the Coco Loco is a deceptively smooth cocktail — it packs a fierce punch.

You'll probably make other friends at Playa Blanca

After my Coco Loco Kevin and I headed down to one of the many restaurants on the busier part of the beach and enjoyed a traditional Colombian lunch of fried fish, coconut rice and fried plantains. I’d had it nearly every day I was along Colombia’s Caribbean coast, but it tasted just as amazing as the first time. Most day tours include this lunch as part of the ticket price, which is usually around 50,000 COP ($28).

End the afternoon with a Coco Loco, a rum drink served inside a real coconut, while relaxing in one of Playa Blanca's hammocks

We spent a few more hours lounging with John in his cabana. Although the time for the boat to depart came relatively slow, I was sad when it was time to leave. I came not expecting a lot and to be fair, there isn’t “a lot” on Playa Blanca. Still, if I hadn’t had a flight scheduled for the next morning, I would’ve stayed several days. Playa Blanca is a true paradise.

I try not to make contentious, judgmental statements on this website but in this instance, I can’t help it: I hate “backpacker” backpacks. Also known as “camping” backpacks, these behemoths can be found on the backs of travelers all over the world, travelers I believe to be sorely misinformed.

And it’s not just that I think such backpacks make most people look like douchebags. Rather, I believe the super-sized backpacks most travelers use are completely unnecessary, and cause them to bring things along on their travels that they simply don’t need.

Indeed, this post isn’t just to taunt and ridicule: I want to provide you with suggestions for how to pack more effectively in advance of your next trip! Even if you plan to travel for several months, you don’t need to bring luggage of obnoxious size with you.

My Experience With Camping Backpacks

Back in 2005, when he found out I was about to embark on my first trip to Europe, my friend Shane made a firm suggestion to me. “You need a camping backpack,” he said. This was in the days before iPhones, so he had to go get his laptop and show me what he was talking about.

“Don’t you think that’s excessive?” I asked. “I mean, I’m only going to be there a month.”

“Trust me,” he said. (Editor’s note: It was also during this conversation that Shane recommend I not stay in hostels, like ever. So we know how trustworthy his advice is!)

Naïve and bushy-tailed, I trusted Shane and purchased a camping backpack. Specifically, I invested in a baby blue version of the Kelty Cloud, a backpack roughly as long as my torso.

As I began packing for my trip, I soon realized that I had an enormous cavern to fill, particularly because I’m fond of rolling my clothing to save space. This is perfect! I thought. I can literally take my entire wardrobe with me. Indeed, that’s what I did: I took 30 shirts, a dozen pairs of pants/shorts and about 10 pairs of shoes with me.

And I quite literally gave myself a hernia. An inguinal one, to be specific.

My Two-Bag Philosophy

During my extensive travel experience since that Europe trip nearly a decade ago, I have peered into the huge camping backpacks of no less than 100 travelers. In all but a couple cases, said backpacks were filled with unnecessary crap — blow dryers, stiletto heels, encyclopedia-sized books, board games, stuffed animals, you name it.

One of nature’s basic principles is the vacuum effect: If a space is empty, it will be filled by something. The solution for travelers? Bring less space with you.

Another strategy I’ve found helpful is splitting that small space into two, so as not to put all your proverbial eggs in one basket. My preferred arrangement is a standard-sized backpack and a small gym bag or duffle bag.

I typically keep my “important” stuff — computer, camera, passports and so forth — in the durable backpack. The soft gym bag, on the other hand, holds enough clothing and shoes for about a week, as well as any other loose articles that don’t need the protection of a semi-rigid exterior. The gym bag is also handy because it serves as a makeshift laundry hamper, one I can take with me to wherever I get my laundry done when it’s time.

A camping backpack’s gargantuan size isn’t just disadvantageous due to the potential it presents for lifting injuries, either. If you carry a camping backpack with you, you have no choice but to check the backpack when you fly or travel on long distance buses and trains. This means not only that you can’t keep your luggage with you, but that’s it’s subject to loss and theft — and, in the case of most airlines, bag check fees, which are often weight-based.

The best part about carrying a standard-sized backpack and a gym bag? Both are carry-on sized, as far as most airlines are concerned. And in the event that you do need to check one, simply choose the duffle bag filled with clothes and shoes. It’ll be light enough to avoid huge overage fees, and what’s in it is “replaceable” enough that you won’t get anxiety.

But What If I’m Actually Camping?

Then bring a camping backpack! The bottom line is this: Things exist for a purpose, and if you are embarking on a trip that requires you to bring your own sleeping bag and other outdoor equipment, then a camping backpack is the right choice for you. If you are sticking mostly to cities and, even if you venture out into the wild, city slicker hostels, then you do not need a camping backpack.

My Recommendation: The Swiss Gear MAXXUM Backpack

As I mentioned in my video post about traveling light from last August, I highly recommend the backpack I use. Meet the SwissGear MAXXUM (click the link to be taken to the Google Shopping page):

The best backpack for smart travelers

Israel is roughly the size of the U.S. state of New Jersey, so I have to give the country kudos: For such a small place, they have a hugely diverse range of landscapes and destinations. From snow-capped mountains in the north, to the Mediterranean coastline of Tel Aviv to the vast Negev desert in the south, the Holy Land is a wholly rich place to travel.

The majority of Israelis I met were adamant that I had to visit Eilat, Israel’s Red Sea resort, particularly when they found out I would be traveling to Egypt from Israel overland. Indeed, I had no choice but to pass through Eilat and even spent a few hours there, waiting for my Egypt visa.

Unfortunately, I didn’t feel compelled to stay in Eilat, even though I probably technically could’ve. I don’t want to discourage you from visiting Eilat — I simply hope my reasons for not having spent much time there will help you decide whether or not you should.

Eilat is Busy

Call me crazy, but this just doesn't scream "relaxation" to me.

I arrived in Eilat at about five in morning, having taken an overnight Egged bus from Tel Aviv. The streets and shores of Eilat were mostly uninhabited around that time — I probably could’ve heard a pin drop just a few minutes’ walk from the Eilat bus station — but if anything, this just drew more attention to the ridiculous extent of development in Eilat.

I simply can’t imagine why anyone would travel to Eilat for relaxation. Near the city center, anyway, the coastline is so dominated by hotels, umbrella-covered beach chairs and a cluttered horizon that it makes disgusting U.S. beach communities like Galveston and Atlantic City seem tranquil. As the sun began to rise, my attention was drawn to Eilat’s city center itself, with extends unbroken over the desert just before its meets the sea.

To be fair, Eilat’s beaches seemed to get more beautiful and quiet as I sped out of town in a taxi bound for the border crossing with Egypt, but unfortunately, my mind was already made up by then.

I Was In a Hurry

I’d stayed in delightful Tel Aviv nearly a week longer than I originally planned (and longer than my schedule allotted, for that matter), so I quite literally had to make a beeline for Egypt. At most, I had enough time to spend a full day and night in Eilat before crossing into Egypt’s Sinai peninsula.

This being said, I don’t know that I would’ve stayed in Eilat, even if I hadn’t been in such a rush. I probably would’ve been less focused on my task at hand — which was getting a tourist visa to enter Egypt — and, perhaps, more open to seeing the subtle beauty of Eilat that attracts hundreds of thousands of Israeli and foreign tourists to the area every year.

Egypt Visa in Eilat

Get your Egypt visa at the Egyptian consulate in Eilat

Unless you plan to travel exclusively in Egypt’s Sinai peninsula, you’ll need to obtain an Egyptian tourist visa before you attempt to cross the border into Egypt, if you’re an American anyway. You can obtain an Egypt visa in Eilat at the Egyptian consulate in Eilat, the same day you apply for the visa no less.

The Egyptian consulate in Eilat is open from 9:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. Sunday-Thursday. The location of the consulate within Eilat is marked clearly on tourist maps all over Eilat and if you get lost, friendly locals will be happy to help you find your way.

Bring visa payment in Israeli shekels (the fee is 100 NIS as of May 2012), one passport-sized photo (you can have it taken at any photo studio in Eilat) and a passport with at least six months remaining validity. Fill out the Egypt visa application and submit your materials as close to 9:30 a.m. as possible. The consular officer will inform you of your specific pickup time, which will probably be after lunch.

Egypt’s Red Sea Beaches Are Better

Sorry Israel: Egypt wins the Red Sea beach competition, hands down

I got my Egypt visa around 1:30 p.m., and hopped straight into a taxi bound for the border crossing with Egypt. Even without crowds, you can expect to spend about an hour crossing the Egypt-Israel border. Although exiting Israel is quick, security at Taba, the Egyptian frontier town, is stringent, and your bags are likely to be searched.

If you plan to travel by bus to your destination in the Sinai peninsula, politely decline offers from the taxi drivers who will no doubt harass you as you exit the border facility — the station is literally five minutes away on foot.

Whether you travel to Bohemian Dahab or busy Sharm el-Shiekh, I can assure you of one thing: The Red Sea beaches of Egypt’s Sinai peninsula are in every way better than those you find in Eilat, particularly if you can make it to Ras Mohammed National Park at the southern tip of the peninsula. Egypt is also significantly cheaper than Israel, which is an added bonus.

Vietnam was a French colony for most of its modern history prior to the Vietnam war, and French influence is still strong throughout the country. Nowhere in Vietnam is this influence more pronounced than in the town of Hoi An, located on the central Vietnamese coast near the large city of Da Nang.

Hoi An is a relaxing place to stop for a few days as you travel north or south through Vietnam. But it’s also a marvelous intersection of Vietnam’s French-colonial past and the local culture that has been sustaining people long before the arrival of the French, all in a beautiful coastal setting.

Sunrise in Hoi An on the Thu Bon River

Hoi An is near the coast, but not exactly on it. Rather, the town sits on the banks of the Thu Bon River, a waterway that is not only beautiful, but life-sustaining. Although you will probably arrive in Hoi An in the late morning, do yourself a favor and wake up early the first morning you wake up in Hoi An. Walk or bike over to the river and take in sunrise with the locals.

A morning market along the Thu Bon

When I say “life-sustaining,” I mean it. As this scene from a river market depicts, the river is a central part not only of culture in Hoi An, but also a source of sustenance for the local community. The riverbank is where fisherman deposit their catches early in the morning, and where their family members set up markets to sell the portions of their bounties they don’t personally need throughout the day.

Hoi An's colorful cityscape

In general, the further away you get from the river, the more pronounced the French influence in Hoi An becomes. The architectural style of buildings in Hoi An is decidedly French, although the color selections and bougainvillea vines growing over the buildings gives them a flair that’s hard to mistake for anywhere but Vietnam.

Hoi An is home to a number of permanent shops, in addition to street markets like you find in the rest of Vietnam

Although Hoi An is extremely small — you can literally walk across the entire town in 20 minutes, and that’s if you’re moving slowly — it is home to a number of permanent storefronts, and not just the collapsible markets that dominate much of Vietnam. Some Hoi An travelers associate this architectural style with commercialization but to me, it gives the town an Old World stateliness that’s intoxicating.

Head east over the Thu Bon River once you finish exploring Hoi An's town center

You could conceivably spend your entire time in Hoi An exploring the town center, but why? I encourage you to rent a bike, either from your hotel or from any of the several bike rental facilities in Hoi An, and head east over the Thu Bon River. Many delights await you on the other side!

The further away you bike from Hoi An, the more tropical your settings become

Indeed, Hoi An is so small that the scene just a few minutes outside the town limits is almost completely tropical and uninhabited. Whether you’ve been traveling in Vietnam for a week or a month, this tranquility will be welcome, as if Hoi An’s compact size and laid-back energy weren’t refreshing enough.

Eventually, you will arrive at An Bang beach, one I found to be much more popular among locals than tourists

Approximately 20 minutes’ ride eastward from Hoi An’s town center is an actual beach! Not only is An Bang Beach relatively undeveloped, extremely clean and pin-drop quite, but when I was there anyway, the crowd was decidedly more local than tourist. I don’t know if I would bank on this being the case for you, however, with how booming Vietnam’s tourism industry is at the moment.

A tiger lantern on the Thu Bon river at night

Head back to Hoi An’s center at night to see the town — and, as you see, the river — quite literally lit up. Even if animal lanterns like this tiger aren’t present when you’re there (I believe this was part of a special festival), you can still shop for colorful lamps and lanterns at stalls on the east bank of the river.

Seeing wild kangaroos when I traveled to Australia wasn’t enough for me — I wanted to see wild kangaroos on the beach! You’ve probably had a similar idea if you own the latest edition of Lonely Planet’s “Australia” guidebook, whose front cover depicts (wait for it) a kangaroo on a beach.

Several of my Australian friends told me that kangaroos liked to hang out on various beaches in New South Wales, but such hearsay wasn’t enough for me as I made my way north along Australia’s east coast.

Thankfully, Davina at Uluru Camel Tours in Australia’s “red” centre provided me with more specific instructions: To visit the so-called “Look At Me Now” headlands near the town of Coffs Harbour, a few hours north of Sydney.

Transport To “Look At Me Now” Headlands

The kangaroos, if they are out, will be very conspicuous

Australia’s Coffs Coast region is basically devoid of public transport options, so traveling to the “Look At Me Now” headlands to see kangaroos on the ocean isn’t as simple as hopping on a bus. To make matters worse, the only road that links Coffs Harbour with Emerald Beach (the most adjacent settlement to the headlands) is a highway, which means that biking is out of the question.

If you stay at Hoey Moey hostel in Coffs Harbour, you can join one of the organized tours to the “Look At Me Now” headlands, which occurred on Mondays when I stayed there in February 2012. Of course, seeing kangaroos on the beach was my birthday present to myself, and birthday happened to fall on a Sunday in 2012.

As a result, I hitchhiked to “Look At Me Now” headlands, which is essentially your only option for seeing kangaroos on the beach in Coffs Harbour if you haven’t rented a car or campervan. Actually, I met a local man on gay sex app Grindr, and he was kind enough to take me to see the kangaroos by the sea even though I didn’t put out.

Where Are The Kangaroos?

As you can see in this picture, the kangaroos in Coffs Harbour aren't "on the beach," but rather above it

When you arrive at the Emerald Beach parking lot, walk over to your right side and enter the “Look At Me Now” headlands. The footpath hugs the cliffs that rise above the ocean, which sits off to your right. As a result, you will see the kangaroos (if they are out) off to your left side.

Notice I said “if they are out”: You aren’t 100% guaranteed to see kangaroos when you visit the “Look At Me Now” headlands. Obviously, there are ways to increase your chances. Going early in the morning is one of them. Good weather — sunny, but not too hot — also makes it more likely that you will see kangaroos by the sea.

Another tactic is simply to wait. The kangaroos live at the headlands, so even if they’re not “out,” they are “there,” specifically in the shrubbery that sits within the fenced “wildlife” reserve area. If you wait long enough, one of the friendly marsupials might surprise you.

Wild Kangaroo Etiquette

Kangaroos can be imposing, but they are docile enough that you shouldn't have a problem photographing them

Notice also that I said “wait”: You should under no circumstances wander into the brush (the kangaroos’ home) and try to scare them out of it. Indeed, I’ve just used the term “friendly” in a very figurative sense — although kangaroos are unlikely to pre-emptively attack you, they are wild animals, and their behavior can be unpredictable.

Does this mean you can’t get close to the kangaroos in order to photograph them with the ocean in the background? Of course not. But you shouldn’t try to touch wild kangaroos. You must be especially cautious if, like me, you’re lucky enough to see a baby kangaroo or “joey” hanging out by itself.

Be especially careful if you happen to encounter an unaccompanied Joey, like I did

I was photographing some of the larger kangaroos at the headlands — there were around a dozen or so there when I went — when I tripped over some shrub roots, only to notice that a little joey was lying underneath the shrub’s branches. The joey’s father didn’t seem too happy that I had quite literally stumbled upon his son or daughter!

Other Coffs Harbour Activities

Sleepy Coffs Harbour is a highly-underrated Australian destination and often plays second fiddle to Bohemian Byron Bay, located a few hours to its north. Read my article comparing Byron Bay vs. Coffs Harbour for ideas on other activities to do in Coffs Harbour.

Santa Marta, Colombia has gained a reputation as one of the most popular places to travel in Colombia, but the town of Santa Marta itself is dingy, dirty and less than picturesque. In fact, Santa Marta acts as more of a hub for the extensive ecotourism opportunities that exist within surrounding Magdalena province.

Among these the settlement of Minca, perched in the Colombian Sierra Nevada mountains that rise above the sea, is especially rewarding. Take a day trip from Santa Marta to Minca to trek through rainforest, swim at the base of a raging waterfall and take a tour of an organic, hydroelectric coffee farm that’s been operating continuously for almost two centuries.

Minca sits perched high in the Colombian Sierra Nevada, overlooking the sea and Santa Marta city

Minca is relatively close to central Santa Marta; depending on where in Santa Marta you’re staying, the journey takes between 45-90 minutes. If you stay at the Dreamer Hostel (about 20 minutes from central Santa Marta in Mamatoco), take one of the hostel’s organized tours, which costs 25.000 COP and departs on select days of the week.

That you visit La Victoria first on your tour is no coincidence: Early afternoon showers are an almost guaranteed occurrence in the Colombian Sierra Nevada

Most tours of Minca have three parts: A tour of La Victoria, a local coffee farm and packaging center; a trek through the rainforest followed by a swim in a waterfall at the end of the trek; and a panoramic view of the region from a local mirador. The tour almost always occurs in this order, but it’s by design: Heavy early afternoon rains in the Sahara Nevada make the indoor areas of La Victoria the only place you want to be.

Composting is one of the many production stages of coffee farming at La Victoria

Don’t let the word “tour” fool you: Your trip to La Victoria will be extremely enlightening. The coffee purveyors here have been in business since roughly 1850 and still use the same process (and, in fact, many of the same facilities) they have for a century and a half. The entire operation is not only organic, but hydroelectric; The stream water used to wash coffee beans and transport them through the refining process provides all the electricity La Victoria consumes. Your tour guide will explain the long journey a single coffee bean takes from the coffee plant to your cup, which you enjoy both before and after the tour.

The whole Colombian Sierra Nevada sparkles and gleams after the rainstorm

Although the rain can be annoying if you’re wearing inappropriate clothing or carry expensive electronics with you like I do, seeing the forest kissed with moisture after the storm is among the most beautiful sights you’ll ever see. I’ve rarely seen lushness like this anywhere else in the world.

If you're lucky, your guide will harvest some fresh mangoes for you to keep you energized on the 1-2 hours hike

Once the rain has let up you begin your hike, which takes you about an hour down into the Sierra Nevada’s rainforest. Our guide, who is a local of the region, was nice enough to locate (and harvest) some mangoes for us as we made our way along the path. He also kept about two dozen for himself!

The hike takes you deep into the rainforest of the Colombian Sierra Nevada, with only small pieces of sky occasionally visible

Although you are, at most, two hours from central Santa Marta, you will feel much further away as you hike into the Sierra Nevada. This becomes particularly clear if you look up, the sky framed like a picture by the surrounding canopy. The pace of the tour may be faster or slower, depending on how many people yours includes, but try to pause and enjoy your surroundings for at least a moment.

Although the trek itself it easy, there's no mistaking how incredibly wild the nature in and around Minca is, such as this rushing river

One of my favorite parts of the tour was walking over a rushing river on a rickety, wooden bridge. This was exhilarating enough in and of itself, but a Swiss traveler on a different tour took it another step: He was actually lying down on the bridge. I snapped this photo while I was waiting for him to move.

You're guaranteed to see waterfalls in Minca, but less certain is whether or not you'll actually be able to swim there

Unfortunately, the rushing river was a bad omen of sorts: The rainstorm had rendered the waterfall (and the river) unsafe for swimming. Actually “bad” is not the word — it was great to look at! Here’s to hoping you’re able to swim at the base of a waterfall when you take a tour of Minca, Colombia.

If you’ve ever researched travel to Europe, you have no doubt been bombarded with marketing for the Eurail Pass, particularly if you use student travel tools like StudentUniverse or STA Travel in your research.

Eurail Passes give you the ability to travel multiple times within a single country, region or even the whole of Eurozone for a fixed price, one that’s usually less than individual tickets would cost you. Eurail passes are additionally purported to save you the hassle of booking tickets in advance of traveling, allowing you to be more flexible as you travel around Europe.

But do Eurail passes actually save you money? And how flexible are they, anyway?

Types of Eurail Passes

Out of the five times I’ve traveled to Europe, I have used Eurail passes twice. During my first trip, in 2005, I purchased a Eurail “Country” pass for Germany, which allowed me a fixed number of rail journeys in Germany over the span of a month. The second time, I invested in a multi-country “Select” pass for rail travel within several European countries. These are just two of the four types of Eurail passes available.

Eurail Global Pass

As its name suggests, the Eurail “Global” pass permits you travel within the 22 countries RailEurope considers to comprise Europe. Eurail Global passes are available with a variety of validity periods. You can choose a Eurail Global pass that permits you travel on 10 or 15 days out of two months; or, if you plan to travel more frequently, a Eurail Global pass that allows you to travel every day (if you want) for between 15 days and three months. Eurail Global passes are the most expensive of the Eurail passes, starting at $590 as of May 2012.

Eurail Select Pass

Eurail “Select” passes, on the other hand, require you to pre-select between 3-5 countries for travel. You can’t select just any countries for the Eurail select pass though — all of the countries you select must border one another. Eurail Select passes permit you between 5-10 days of travel over two months if you purchase the 3- and 4-country Eurail Select passes, while the 5-country Eurail select pass allows you to travel up to 15 days out of two months. Prices for Eurail Select passes start at $319 as of May 2012.

Eurail Regional Pass

Eurail “Regional” passes allow you to travel within pre-defined regions of Europe, such as France-Italy, or Germany and the Be-Ne-Lux (Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg) countries. These passes are inherently less flexible than other Eurail passes and permit you between 4-10 days of train travel within a two-month period. They can also be a cheaper way to travel, with prices from $177 as of May 2012.

Eurail Country Pass

If you only plan to travel by rail in one European country, the Eurail “Country” pass is the pass you’ll choose. Eurail country passes permit you a certain number of train travel days (between 3-10) within one or two months. Eurail Country passes are priced from $51 as of May 2012, depending on which one you choose.

How Eurail Passes Work

The first catch of buying a Eurail pass is that you must have the pass delivered to an address in your home country. In other words, you can’t just turn up at a railway station in Europe and buy a Eurail pass. This means that if you’re already abroad and don’t have someone at home who can mail your pass to you, you won’t be able to buy or use a Eurail pass to travel Europe by rail.

In theory, all you need to do to use your Eurail pass is board a train within a country where your pass allows for rail travel and present the pass to the ticket attendant when he or she asks you for your ticket. Technically speaking, you are able to board any train at any time, even at a moment’s notice.

In practice, however, using a Eurail pass isn’t always this simple. On high-speed trains like France’s TGV and the nicer German DeutscheBahn trains for example, you must make (and purchase) a supplementary seat reservation or, if you’re traveling overnight, a bed reservation.

To say it another way, a Eurail pass permits you to board a train, but does not guarantee you a seat. Generally speaking, you need to turn up at your departure station at least an hour in advance if the train you want to take displays an “R” next to it in the RailEurope schedules, indicating that passengers need a reservation. Remember that even if you do turn up early, you might not get a seat.

When you present your Eurail pass, the attendant makes a date-stamped punch in your pass, which reduces the number of days you can travel (for non-unlimited passes, anyway) by one. If you take another train the same day, direct the second attendant’s attention to this date stamp.

Are Eurail Passes Really Cheaper?

In addition to being less flexible in theory than they are in practice, Eurail passes are in many cases less of a bargain than RailEurope purports them to be.

Remember how I mentioned that Eurail Global passes start at just over 500 U.S. dollars? That’s for the basic Global pass, which affords you just 10 days of travel over the course of two months. Want to travel every day for two or three months? You’ll be paying a minimum of $1,200, and that’s if you’re a youth under 26 years of age. Rates for adults are higher, in some cases significantly so.

Naturally, Eurail passes do sometimes save you money. When I traveled Germany using a Country pass, for example, I paid just over $100 for five rail journeys, which is what a single journey booked at the station the day of travel would’ve cost me. This was largely influenced, of course, by the fact that I took only inter-city, daytime rail services, none of which requires supplementary reservations.

My savings were less evident, however, when I booked the Eurail Select pass for my 2007 Europe trip. The base cost of the pass (I think it was around $400) was indeed cheaper than individual tickets would’ve cost me. Still, the reservation fees were exorbitant. For the journey from Milan-Paris alone, I was made to pay a supplementary fee over 20 euros, or almost $30 at the time. I think I took five such international rail journeys, which conservatively cost me an extra $150 over the course of my trip.

Air Travel vs. Rail Travel in Europe

One advantage of traveling Europe by rail that’s difficult to dispute is that it’s the most stress-free way to see the continent. Although making a reservation for a train can seem like a hassle when you’ve already purchased a pricey pass, the fact is that even the longest line at a European railway station is much shorter than a modest security queue at an airport.

To be sure, it is in many cases possible to pay less for a one-way air ticket between two destinations that you would for a comparable rail journey, thanks to low-cost airlines like RyanAir, easyJet and Transavia.

In addition to flying being generally more complicated than taking trains, however, traveling Europe by air can also be disadvantageous from a cost perspective — European low-cost carriers not only charge for extras like checked bags and refreshments, but may actually charge you to carry bags on-board, or even use the toilet!

Trains are without a doubt the simplest and least stressful way to travel Europe, but using a Eurail passes may or may not be in your best financial or logistical interest. Even if you don’t want to plan out your trip in detail — I don’t blame you! — write out a sample itinerary, compare it with available passes and price individual tickets for sample dates, then see which option makes the most sense for you.

This is a sponsored guest post from Tombola. Have a travel business you want to promote? Visit the Media Page to learn more about how a sponsored guest post on Leave Your Daily Hell can help you grow your travel business.

What To Do In the UK’s Second-Best City

Manchester, England's second city

International tourists coming to the UK rarely, if ever, get far beyond the city bounds of London (save perhaps for the odd trip to Oxford, or maybe Brighton). And though London has a lot to offer visitors in terms of attractions: landmarks, cultural heritage, shopping, entertainment and food; it certainly is not representative of the UK as a whole.

Indeed, the common complaint from the English is that London is no longer an ‘English’ city. Ignoring the thinly veiled exclusive connotations of this statement, I tend to think this is at least partly true in that London feels like an international city—belonging to the world rather than to England. I also think that tourists coming to Britain are looking to experience something closer to a Dickensian ideal, rather than another NYC with small flairs of local flavors (like black cabs etc.).

In this vein, I believe Manchester to be a suitable compromise between the metropolitan perks of London, and the rest of England where a certain Britishness can still be felt; somewhere you can indulge in world-class shopping and gustatory pleasures while being able to engage in gritty British past times like footie matches, grey hound racing and the odd game of bingo.

Sport

Ask any tourist the first thing that comes to mind when they think Manchester and they will almost inevitably say ‘Manchester United’. More hardcore soccer fans will be aware that Manchester is actually home to two great premier league clubs: Manchester United and Manchester City. I think that if you happen to visit the city while either of these teams are playing (soccer fan or not) it’s an opportunity that should not be missed. Also, both teams’ home stadiums offer museums dedicated to the history of the teams as well as stadium tours.

Arts and Culture

Like any city worth your time visiting Manchester has an impressive offering of both art and cultural heritage contained within its museums. The Lowry Gallery contains a mix of both historical artefacts alongside modern art. Equally the Royal Exchange features fascinating exhibits dedicated to the city’s industrial past.

Shopping

Manchester is home to some of Britain’s biggest and best shopping malls and markets. The Arndale Centre houses the largest indoor shopping area in the UK, and Affleck’s Arcade is among the biggest British independent indoor markets. If you are more interested in an eclectic mix of shops then Bolton Market should give you a good idea of some of the city’s more interesting trades.

Assorted Attractions

As an ex-pat living in England I’ve had some time to consider what some truly British past times might be. Aside from posh summer garden parties and after-work piss ups all I can really think of involves betting.
One option is visiting the grey hound race track at the Belle Vue Stadium in Manchester. Grey hound racing certainly isn’t for everyone, but if you can get into putting money on the pups then spending the day betting at the tracks.

Another option is to visit one of the city’s many bingo halls. Bingo has been a part of truly british culture since before the Second World War, but has found a resurgence in popularity due in large to the proliferation of online bingo — by far the most popular of which is Tombola Online Bingo. However, British bingo halls still hold an important place on the high street—and it is there that you can find a really good slice of local flavour. Just make sure not to sit in anyone’s seat.

Teaching English overseas, whether you do so in Asia, Europe or the Middle East, is a great way to save some money or take a break from your life “back home.” If you’re passionate about education, it can even be the start of a rewarding, lucrative career.

But what if you don’t want to teach English for the rest of your life?

I can relate. After eight months teaching English to adults in Shanghai, I’d had enough. To be fair, this has almost nothing to do with my students, and nearly everything to do with EF China, the school I worked for. But no matter!

Whether you’re nearing the end of your teaching contract or are just about to hop on the plane, it’s important to have an exit strategy ready so you can effectively build on the momentum you gain while teaching English overseas — you don’t want to simply “go home” and live the life you had before, do you?

Overseas Jobs and Internships

For English teachers who love the expat lifestyle (but not so much the actual task of teaching English), it’s possible to procure non-teaching jobs and internships overseas. In Asia especially, demand is high for educated native English speakers, particularly if you have some experience in the industry in which you want to work.

Your teaching can even bolster your qualifications. My former Senior Teacher Lillian, for example, has gone on to work in language training with Cathay Pacific Airlines in Hong Kong.

Of course, some people will want to stay in the English instruction field, perhaps just not at their school or in their current country. After I finished at EF (but before I procured the location-independent income that allowed me to travel basically at-will), I gave private English lessons to high school students through an agency in town.

Likewise, many English teachers in a particular country simply seek out employment in a different one. It’s popular, for example, to teach English in Korea for a year, then move to China or Japan.

Freelance Work Opportunities

Procuring freelance work is another great way to build on the economic momentum you gain teaching English. Freelance work is particularly awesome if your post-ESL goals include traveling, as accepting freelance gigs and positons enables you to work –and, thus, make money — while you travel. For me, freelancing has obviously comprised writing — and not only about travel, but about topics as diverse at electronics, retail and the law.

To learn more about how to find freelance, location-independent gigs you can work from anywhere in the world, read my article about how to become location independent.

Travel the World With Savings

The greatest potential benefit of teaching English overseas is that you generally earn significantly more than your local cost of living. As a result, you can save several thousand dollars over the course of a year if you play your cards right — most people don’t.

If you finish your contract and don’t have any specific desires or inclinations, traveling for a few months can clear your head and allow you to formulate a “next step” that advances you forward. A word of caution, however: I wouldn’t advise returning “home” until you’ve figured out what you ultimately want to do, lest you regress into the life you fled when you went overseas in the first place.

When and How to Quit Your Job

The majority of English teaching contracts are for one year, although some may have shorter terms, usually six months. Regardless of how long your contract lasts, there is a chance that you might not want or be able to fulfill it.

In this instance, you need to read the document carefully to see if you can terminate the contract prior to its completion and, if so, what regulations and/or penalties apply in the event that you do.

At EF China, for example, I needed only to give 30 days written notice and allow the company to cancel the Chinese residence permit it gave me. Although canceling a contract outside the agreed-upon terms and conditions will only rarely result in a severe legal penalty, you probably don’t want to carry around that sort of bad karma with you the rest of your life.

If you want to work legally when you travel in Australia, you need to obtain what’s called a “Working Holiday” visa from the Australian government. This isn’t to say there aren’t plenty of illegal positions available — there are — but if you’re looking for consistent, reliable work in Australia, your chances of finding it without a Working Holiday visa are quite slim.

The Australian Working Holiday visa is restricted, so people from certain countries and beyond a certain age range aren’t able to get one. Likewise, although a Working Holiday visa technically permits you to work for any employer in Australia, some employers won’t hire you if they know you’re in Australia on a Working Holiday visa.

Requirements for Australian Working Holiday Visa

Australia’s Working Holiday visa is intended exclusively for individuals between the ages of 18-30, according to the Australian Department of Immigration and Citizenship.

Two classes of Australian Working Holiday visas exist. The first (subclass 462) is for citizens and nationals of Argentina, Bangladesh, Chile, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, Turkey and the USA. The second (subclass 417) is intended for citizens and nationals of Belgium, Canada, Cyprus, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, France, Germany, Hong Kong, Ireland, Italy, Japan, South Korea, Malta, The Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Taiwan and the United Kingdom.

No matter which of these categories you fall into, the same restrictions apply to you. Namely, you may work for each employer no more than six months and study for no more than four months. The initial term of the Australian Working Holiday visa is 12 months, although you may apply and be granted a second year if you successfully complete the first and can find a company or government agency willing to hire you.

The Australian Working Holiday visa ultimately pays off but initially, you’ll need to foot the cost. The cost of Australian Working Holiday visas for both subclasses 417 and 462 is A$270 as of May 2012. Click here to learn more about subclass 462 of the Australian Working Holiday visa, or click here to learn more about subclass 417 of the Australian Working Holiday visa, including the option to apply for either Working Holiday visa.

Employment Opportunities in Australia

Australia’s economy is booming at the moment, due in large part to the strength of the mining industry in the Western part of the country. As a result of strong export numbers to China and other Asian nations, it isn’t likely for this sector of the Australian economy to cool anytime soon. From what I can gather, you are practically guaranteed to get a job in mining, if one interests you.

Another popular employment choice for foreigners in Australia on a Working Holiday visa is, strangely, picking fruit. I met a girl named Keirra in Brisbane and again in Cairns, where she was planning to pick bananas with some men she’d met. This work certainly isn’t glamorous, but due to Australia’s high minimum wage (which I’ll discuss in a minute), you can still make a pretty penny doing it.

If mining and fruit picking aren’t your thing, you will most likely work in a service industry position (i.e. waiting tables, bartending or working in an Australian hostel) if you travel to Australia on a Working Holiday visa. Although it’s possible you could be hired for a professional job if you already possess the requisite education and experience, it is my understand that most Australian companies are reticent to hire foreigners who are in Australia on Working Holiday visas.

Cost of Living and Travel in Australia

As I’ve mentioned more than a few times on this site, Australia is a pretty expensive place to travel. It’s also quite expensive for living. Read more about the specific costs of food, shelter and transportation in Australia.

Thankfully, for people working in Australia, high costs are at least partially offset by a high minimum wage, which was A$17 per hour when I visited Australia in early 2012. Keep in mind that this is only a minimum. Keirra informed me that she would be making A$20 per hour pduring regular hours, A$30 per hour on Saturdays and a whopping A$40 per hour on Sundays — to pick bananas! Mining industry jobs are reputed to be even more lucrative, with annual salaries over A$100,000 far from uncommon.

If you work in the service industry when you travel to Australia on a Working Holiday visa, you should expect to make around A$20 per hour, from my understanding.

Working Illegally in Australia

So, what if you’re over 30 and/or aren’t a citizen or national of one of the countries listed? I’m obviously not going to officially recommend that you work illegally in Australia, although plenty of people do it. You should understand that working illegally in Australia, as would be the case in the vast majority of countries, can result in punishment or even deportation.

If you’re traveling in Australia and looking to save, one option is to volunteer your time at a hostel in exchange for free or discounted room and board. This is perfect legal and is a better way to go about working in Australia without a Working Holiday visa than getting paid cash under the table.

(Disclaimer: I should probably clarify right off the bat that when I say “travel sickness,” I mean “food-borne travel illness.”)

You could say I’m something of an expert in dealing with food poisoning during travel. Although I’m generally healthy — at home, I almost never fall ill, the occasional cold or sinus infection notwithstanding — I usually succumb to at least one bout of food poisoning per trip.

I would like to tell you that avoiding food-borne illness during travel is as simple as being judicious about where you buy your food but unfortunately, microbes don’t only hang out in sketchy-looking restaurants and food stalls. Indeed, your best defense against food poisoning when you travel is learning to recognize its symptoms quickly, and to deal with them effectively.

Signs and Symptoms of Food Poisoning

If you read my article about the Christmas I spent sick in Shanghai, you’ll know that I had formidable experience with food poisoning prior to departing China on my “big” trip. When I started getting chills as night fell in humid, balmy Vientiane, Laos a few months later, I knew something was up.

I returned to my hotel room after I finished eating with the intention of changing clothes, only to find myself too cold, tired and achy to get up off my bed. To be sure, I’ve found that food poisoning usually comes on in a subtle, deceptive manner, mimicking a generally feeling of fatigue and, as time passes, malaise. If you start getting a headache or body aches to complement your chills or tiredness, you should probably be concerned.

Ironically, I’ve found the gastrointestinal symptoms of food poisoning are among the last to set in. If we assume I went back to my Vientiane hotel room at 8 p.m., it wasn’t until probably midnight that I took my first trip to the toilet. Unfortunately, once you do start experiencing these symptoms, they are unlikely to let up quickly.

Thankfully, although you will alternate between vomiting and diarrhea, none of your excretion is likely to be particularly explosive. When I fell ill in Mandalay, Myanmar a few months after getting sick in Laos, I more often wanted  to shit or puke than felt I had to — the pain and pressure in my abdomen alerted me to the presence of an unwelcome visitor that needed to get the F out.

Seeking Medical Treatment During Travel

Unfortunately, travel illness isn’t always something you can get over without medical treatment. Out of the half-dozen or so times I’ve fallen ill with food poisoning during travel, I sought professional medical attention for two of them.

My fever in Laos got so high that I was concerned it was Dengue, so I took a tuk-tuk to Vientiane’s international hospital before it opened, and waited for the staff to arrive. After hours of examination, testing and a relatively substantial blood sample, I was given a huge bag of pills to cure the bacterial infection that had control of my digestive tract.

In Myanmar, I become so incapacitated by my sickness that I braved a 30-minute journey in the back of a pickup truck to the only English-speaking doctor in Mandalay. As the medical professional in Laos had done, he prescribed me no less than 10 different medications, from antibiotics for the infection to activated charcoal to combat nausea.

Of course, I allowed my other four instances of food poisoning to run their courses, so I’m not sure to what extent seeking medical treatment for travel sickness actually helped me fight it. Perhaps the benefit was entirely psychological? As a general rule, if you feel like you aren’t getting better after a day or so of sickness, seek medical attention, if only for peace of mind.

Travel Sickness Coping Strategies

Whether you head to a hospital or tough it out on your own, it will take some time for your food-borne travel illness to dissipate. The first coping strategy I recommend is that you get your own hotel room — or, if you’re staying in a hostel, a private single with an ensuite bathroom.

Quiet and privacy will not only increase the quality of your rest, but they are also practically beneficial. When I fell ill in Essaouira, Morocco after eating sketchy street meat, I was in probably the most echo-y hostel I’ve ever stayed in. Every time I vomited (thankfully, not much came out of the back end during this particular bout of travel sickness), the heaving sound reverberated throughout the entire building.

If your room has a bathtub, occasional hot baths can help you alleviate fever symptoms, although you shouldn’t overdo it — I usually do. Not surprisingly, frequent dips in extremely hot water will raise your temperature even higher, which can have disastrous consequences if you aren’t careful.

Once you get your appetite back, eat mild, bland food, but don’t just buy the cheapest thing you can find at the supermarket, even if you’re on a strict budget. Pampering yourself, even slightly, is essential to recovering from your illness.

How Long Should You Rest?

My recovery times have been different each time I fell ill with travel sickness. In Laos, I got sick on a Tuesday night; on Wednesday night, I was on an overnight train to Bangkok, albeit extremely reluctantly.

In Myanmar, I was incapacitated for around 48 hours before I flew back to Thailand. My Moroccan sickness was a 24 hours bug; At the end of my recent trip to Australia, I experienced fierce gastrointestinal discomfort for a solid three days, including when I was trying to enjoy the overrated Whitsunday Islands.

You should allow yourself as much time as you feel you need to recover, but keep in mind that at some point, you need to take control over the sickness (and your weathered body) and get going again. A body at rest will stay at rest; and it’s your job to put yours back into motion, which is the key ingredient in getting back to 100% and traveling at your normal intensity level.

One of my main objectives in traveling to “dangerous” places is to avoid danger and, by way of example, disprove such labels.

I set out in Bogotá, Colombia this morning with the intention of doing just that. By the end of the day, however, I was trapped in a women’s bathroom with a dozen other people, covering my nose and mouth for fear of breathing in tear gas.

Initially, my day went swimmingly, all though I did notice a huge number of police officers — to the tune of no less than 1,000 — as I strolled through La Candelaria, Bogotá’s historical center. To be fair, this part of Bogotá is more than a little sketchy, so for perhaps the first time in my life, I felt as if the police were my friends.

Police prepare for Bogotá's May Day "manifestations"

Upon arriving in Plaza de Bolivar I realized that the Bogotá police hadn’t filled the streets to protect me and my gaudy camera, but indeed to pre-empt May Day. For those of you who don’t live in socialist countries, “May Day” is a socialist holiday of sorts that occurs on May 1 of every year, and involves citizens protesting governments. Or something? Again, I didn’t really think much of it.

Plaza Bolivar adorned with banners proclaiming May Day

I continued making my way through the streets of La Candelaria, convinced that every officer I passed was in place to prevent the sketchy people standing between the two of us from harming me. Ironically when I snapped a photo of this dog, no police were around to prevent an (admittedly harmless) beggar from begging me for 2,000 pesos colombiános.

A sad-looking dog in La Candelaria

I wrapped up my stroll through La Candelaria with shots of some of the amazing architecture in the neighborhood. These photos shouldn’t require much narration:

A colorful La Candelaria building

The church in Plaza Bolivar

Another church in La Candelaria -- I'll have to get back to you RE: the name

After that was over, I headed west down Carrera 3 — in Bogota, streets called carerras run east-west, while calles run north-south — in search of Monserrate, a hilltop park that’s purported to provide the best view in Bogotá. The walk to Monserrate begins with a row of reflecting pools that seems to extend forever.

The reflecting pools that lead to Monserrate

Bogotá is different from most of the other South American cities I’ve visited in that typically the “downtown” area of a particular city is the “bad” part. Hostels tend to exist only in “safe” areas. I wouldn’t say that the area either La Candelaria and the area between it and the entrance to Monserrate are unbearably sketchy, but much of the imagery I took in on my way to the mountain entrance was foreboding, to say the least.

"Vigilado" means "watched over." Creepy, huh?

The climb up Monserrate is relatively strenuous, although you won’t bat an eye if, for example, you scaled Machu Picchu. If you do need to stop, most of the places where you can do so make for great photo ops.

One of the many miradors on the way up Monserrate

In addition to the view you enjoy from Monserrate, the peak is home to a tranquil garden filled with flamboyant religious imagery, quaint cafés and a church:

Inside Monserrate church

The plaza at the top of Monserrate

Are you feeling guilty yet?

If you walk past all this, you end up in a decidedly more local, less “nice” market, which is arguably more interesting anyway.

The "local" Monserrate market

In total, I spent about three hours at Monserrate: One hour getting to the top, an hour and a half exploring what’s up there and half an hour getting down. You see, I made plans to meet the lovely Megan of Bohemian Trails at a coffee shop called Juan Valdez at 1:30 — and at 1:00, I was just beginning my descent down the mountain.

When I saw the dude in the "Anonymous" mask, I had a feeling something was about to happen

Eventually, I found Megan and the coffee shop and we began a lively discussion about traveling, writing and how much better we are than everyone else who does those two things. (I kid, kind of). I noticed a sketchy character wearing an “Anonymous” mask and snapped his picture. What followed after this was a blur.

I remember that a huge mob of people from the street ran inside a café, and people who’d already been in the café were ducking and running for cover. Megan and I assumed this meant that someone in the street had a gun.

Minutes later, I was barricaded in this bathroom

It wasn’t until we’d changed locations within the coffee shop no less than a dozen times that we asked what the problem was. The police, it seems, had thrown tear gas at protesters in the manifestation in order to get them to disband. Here we thought we were about to be robbed at gunpoint, and it was tear gas! This is not to say that tear gas isn’t serious, but I felt no tears coming on, personally.

I would learn after this ordeal that May Day probably isn’t the best day to begin a trip to Colombia. Oh well! Here’s to hoping this is the most dramatic thing that befalls me during my stay here.

The town of Chefchaouen, perched high in the Morocco’s northern hills, is among the most illustrative examples of the country’s geographical and architectural diversity. Painted blue to ward off the mosquitoes and other winged pests that would otherwise torture locals, Chefchaouen is equal parts traditional Morocco city and Bohemian mountain town.

In recent years, Chefchaouen (known as “Chaouen” among locals) has become increasingly popular among backpackers who travel to Morocco. Chefchaouen nonetheless retains a singular charm that becomes decidedly more pronounced the further up and away from the central medina you walk.

Why Is Chefchaouen Blue?

This is what mosquito repellent looks like in Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen is most recognizable for the blue paint that covers nearly all of its buildings. Blue is my favorite color, so naturally I took an instant liking to Chefchaouen the moment I arrived. I didn’t even mind when mischievous local boys purposely splattered some of their blue paint on me as they were working!

Interestingly, the reason for Chefchaouen being blue is more practical than aesthetic. Specifically, blue repels mosquitoes and other insect pests who reside at approximately the same elevation in Morocco’s heavily wooded northern hills. Come to think of it, I didn’t get bitten by any mosquitos when I was there!

The Chefchaouen Waterfall

Chefchaouen's friendly locals are more worthy of your time than its waterfall

Owing to its hilltop, wooded location, Chefchaouen is a regional hub for hiking, swimming and all manner of outdoor activities for backpackers in Morocco. Within the town center, a “waterfall” is perhaps the most famous attraction. It’s relatively difficult to find, however — and I’m sad to report that it’s not particularly worth the trek.

Indeed, your attention in Chefchaouen would be better focused getting lost in any of the dozens of narrow passageways that lead away from the city’s medina. If the curious smiles from local children — and dirty looks from some of their parents — aren’t enough to keep you engaged, you can always walk straight up to enjoy panoramic views of the town.

Bus to Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen's busy medina is a long walk from its bus station

Unless you’ve rented a car or want to pony up the cash for a private taxi, the only way to reach Chefchaouen is via bus. I personally recommend that you use CTM, Morocco’s government-run bus company. CTM buses are the most comfortable and safe in Morocco.

Additionally, CTM bus fares are low. For example, I paid about 70 DH from Fes, located about six hours south of Chefchaouen. If you’re headed to or from Marrakech, on the other hand, you can except an all-day journey that stops in Rabat, Morocco’s capital city. As of October 2011, a one-way ticket between Chefchaouen and Marrakech cost 180 DH.

It’s important to note that the Chefchaouen bus station sits pretty far down the hill from the town’s main tourist center. You can hire a petit taxi for about 40 DH in either direction or, if you want to walk, plan on feeling out of breath and the walk taking no less than 30 minutes each way, if you can even find the way.

Chefchaouen Hotels and Hostels

Pension Souika's rooftop terrace is awesome

When I visited Chefchaouen I stayed in Pension Souika, a hostel my Australian friend Erin had recommended. As of writing, a dorm bed at Pension Souika costs anywhere from 60-100 DH per night, depending on the size of room you prefer being in. Pension Souika isn’t what I would call “nice,” the rooftop terrace pretty much makes up for it.

Dozens of other hotel and hostel properties are available in Chefchaouen, so if you aren’t feeling Pension Souika, don’t worry. Simply walk through any of the passageways leading away from the hostel, and a local person is sure to beg you to stay in his property, which probably isn’t actually his.

In just a few hours, I’ll be on a 737 bound for Bogotá, Colombia. Over the course of the next three weeks, I’m going to explore, research and photograph as many nooks and crannies of Colombia as I can. When all is said and done, my trip will yield dozens of in-depth destination guides, tidbits of travel advice and illuminating photo essays for your consumption.

Colombia has long been on my travel bucket list, but I purposely avoided visiting there during my South America trip last year, having succumbed to “official” warnings that traveling in Colombia is dangerous. Since then, I have met no less than a dozen people who’ve visited Colombia — and every single one of them has listed it among his or her favorite destinations in the world.

In total, I’ll be spending 21 days in Colombia, so here are 21 reasons I can’t contain my excitement about traveling to Colombia for the first time.

1. The notion of “danger” is alluring

2. Colombian men are extremely well-endowed:

World Penis Size Map (Source: TargetMap.com)

3. This:

Hillary Clinton, no doubt ready to text someone (Source: Inquirer.net)

4. David Lee has sold me on Colombia

5. It’s so close, but so far away

6. This:

Salento (Source: LaSerrana.com.co)

5. I miss Latin America

6. I always root for the underdog

7. This:

Ciudad Perdida (Source: TravelBlog.org)

8. Colombian coffee

9. Cocaine (kind of)

10. This:

Shakira statue in Barranquilla (Source: The Sun)

11. Spanish is my favorite foreign language to speak

12. My last trip was to a “rich” country

13. This:

Taranga Beach (Source: Paisa Tours; beach babe not included)

14. I miss taking photos (I don’t take many at home)

15. I plan to get my SCUBA certification

16. This:

Santa Marta (Source: rutlo on Flickr)

17. I know for a fact the food will be amazing

18. It’s a long time coming

19. This:

Tayrona National Park (Source: Top Travelist)

20. I want to prove the haters wrong

21. I love writing about new places

First among the many dangers of staying “at home” too long is growing too comfortable. Comfort, I’m fond of saying, is the enemy of progress. The more comfortable you are, the less likely you are to face adversity.

Adversity, according to Webster’s online dictionary, is synonymous with “difficulty” or “misfortune.” Although adversity very often comes in the form of difficult or unfortunate situations, I believe that adversity is not only positive, but necessary.

Over the course of my extensive world travel, I have faced adversity more than my fair share of times. Rather than allowing myself to feel victimized or unlucky, however, I view adverse situations as an opportunity for introspection and self-assessment.

Coming up against adversity forces you to show your true colors — and I’ll tell you from experience that they aren’t always bright and beautiful. But to me, there is a gift in being able to see yourself at your worst, demons you might not encounter if you stay at home in front of the TV. Adversity is, in this way, a conduit to progress.

Stuck in India

One particularly memorable example of my having faced adversity while traveling was in India in April 2009, during my second trip to the subcontinent. I returned to India with a genius idea I’d hatched during my first trip a few months earlier. I would buy women’s clothing and accessories dirt-cheap, import them back to the U.S. and sell them for a (relatively) large profit.

My shopping trip went entirely as planned, and then some — I got an incredible quantity of stuff for the little I spent, within the span of just one weekend, no less.

The day of my departure, I was enjoying a leisurely lunch at a beachside café in Palolem Beach when the taxi drove up. As we pulled away, the driver spoke. “To confirm, what time is your flight?”

I removed a printed itinerary from my bag. “6:10,” I said. Then, I looked at it again. Fuck, I thought. It says six-teen ten. Four ten!

“What time is it right now?”

The driver pointed at the car’s clock. “10 minutes to four. You’ve got plenty of time.”

“Actually,” I said, “I don’t. Please drive me to the nearest travel agent. Now!”

In the minute or so it took him to drive back to Palolem’s town center, the worst possible scenarios filled my head. What if there are no more flights to Mumbai today? What if Delta won’t book me on a different flight back to the U.S.? I’d be stuck in India. I’m going to be stuck in India. I am stuck in India!

It was with this panicked and irrational mindset that I approached agents in successive travel offices, each of whom seemed progressively less willing to help me. At the time, I assumed this was part of the Universe’s grand plan to leave me screwed over and stranded in Bumfuck, India.

After completely alienating the first half-dozen or so people I encountered, I came across a travel agency staffed by a woman so cool and calm even my hissy fit couldn’t faze her. “Where do you need to go?”

“Mumbai,” I said. “Tonight. I have to make it tonight.”

She gently tip-tapped her keyboard. “How does 6:30 p.m., arriving at 8 p.m. sound?”

“That’s incredible!” I said. I reached into my bag and pulled out my credit card, apathetic how much or little the ticket would cost.  I was so happy and so thankful I could’ve kissed the woman’s feet. In less than a minute, I was confirmed on the flight and back in the taxi. I apologize profusely the poor driver during the 90-minute drive to Goa’s airport and tipped him fat when I arrived.

I am not stuck in India.

Bon Qui Qui in Bangkok

If you’ve ever lived or traveled long-term in Asia and you happen to be white, you know that Asian people conduct themselves reverently toward Westerners, particularly Westerners who happen to be male and at least marginally good-looking.

The effect the constant “yes, sir; of course, sir” has on you might not be pronounced if you spend only a few days or weeks in Asia. But by the time I arrived in Thailand to participate in the Tourism Authority of Thailand’s “Medical Blog Contest” in November 2010, I had lived in Asia for the better part of a year and, during that time, heard “No” from local people few enough times to count on one hand.

To be sure, I had to confirm with the reception at Bangkok’s Diamond City Hotel that I would need to pay more to upgrade to a room on a lower floor and, thus, closer to the Wi-Fi signal my computer wasn’t able to pick up from my original fourth floor lodging.

“You mean to tell me,” I said, “that I need to pay more money, because you put me in a room you knew was out of reach of the hotel’s Wi-Fi?”

“It’s a larger room,” the woman said. “A better room. Just 150 extra baht per night.”

“I don’t want to pay 150 extra baht per night,” I said.

“I understand,” she said. “In that case, you can always come down to the lobby to use the Wi-Fi.”

I could feel my blood begin to boil. Did she just assert that I need to do my work in public? Does she not understand that I chose to stay in a hotel, rather than a Khao San Road hostel, because I want privacy? What is wrong with this woman?

“I am not,” I said sternly, “paying extra to ‘upgrade’ to another room. You list in-room Wi-Fi as one of your amenities, and if Wi-Fi isn’t available in your standard room, you should upgrade me free of charge.”

“But Sir, I–”

“No buts,” I said. “Can I please speak to your manager?”

“I am the manager, sir,” she said.

I felt like I was an actor in a real-life Bon Qui Qui at Burger King. My pulse began to accelerate.

Before all was said and done, I would “blow up” again, albeit to a much less dramatic extent than I’d done in India the previous spring. I did ultimately get what I wanted — a free upgrade to the lower-to-the-ground, “nicer” room — so although I can’t say my decision to have apologized for my behavior was altruistic in nature, I was forced to swallow my pride.

Luckily for me, apologizing profusely enabled me to establish positive rapport with all the staff members at the hotel, which I now consider to be my de-facto Bangkok home, and one of my favorite hotels in the world.

Walk, Like An Egyptian

If you’re still reading at this point, you’re probably thinking to yourself, God, Robert is such a diva! What an ungrateful, entitled little bitch he is! Indeed, I feel the same way when I look back at how I’ve reacted to some of the adverse situations I’ve faced, particular ones like the Bangkok hotel incident, where I was only scantily placed at a disadvantage.

What I’ve learned encountering different sorts of adversity on the road, however, is that the specifics of the misfortune or difficulty I encounter are secondary to the point of adversity. What adversity exposes is your true nature: How you react to an adverse situation is a reflection of your character.

As a result, the more you encounter adversity, the more you are able to look your demons in the eye and move forward in your character development. The less dramatic situations affect you, the happier you become when times are tranquil.

One of my more recently experience with adversity, in Sharm el Shiekh, Egypt last September, was also one of the most harrowing. As had been the case in India in 2009, this particular encounter occurred in a taxi cab. Only this time, I actually was in danger of becoming a victim.

See, I’d gone against my the advice of the staff at Oonas Dive Club. Rather than booking a driver through them, I strutted down to the main tourist road in town. I was delighted when a driver approached me and quote me just 300 LE for transport to and from Ras Mohammed National Park. The receptionist at Oonas had told me that I would pay no less than 600.

On the way back from the national park, my driver was even kind enough to give me a tour of Sharm el Shiek’s old town center, including a new mosque that had just been built, and a huge Moroccan-style dinner theater. It wasn’t until he pulled up to the road that led back to my hotel that I realized his actions had been anything but charitable.

He counted on his fingers for a few seconds. “OK, so that will be 900. OK?”

900 pounds? Is he joking? I reached into my bag and pulled out three hundred-pound notes. “Three hundred. That’s what we agreed upon — remember?”

Rage filled his eyes and, although my door was open and I had one foot out of the car, he slammed his foot on the accelerator. “You pay me 900, or you die.” He picked up a large rock from the floorboard. “And I smash your camera.”

Over the subsequent minute or so — it felt much, much longer — he practically spoke in tongues, informing me that he had borrowed a friend’s car without asking, that he needed money for petrol and that, apparently, he had overpaid for my ticket into National Park, none of which were my fault.

When I saw the security guard in front of the swanky Naama Bay Hilton on the right side of the car, I rolled down the window and waved to him. Thankfully, this caused the driver to slow down and eventually stop. I ran out of the car and practically knelt in front of the guard as I begged him for help.

“We agreed to a price of 300 but now he wants 900 and he threatened to kill me and break my camera if I don’t give it to him. Help me!”

After a few minutes of heated conversation with the drive, the guard came back to me. “You give him 600, you can go.”

“Five hundred?” I waved five hundred-pound notes in the driver’s face.

“Six hundred,” he screamed. “No less!”

I added an additional bill to the stack and practically threw it at him.

His face lit up and he opened the passenger door. “You need a ride back?” (At that point, we were nearly a mile past where I needed to be.)

“No,” I said. “You are a dishonest man. I would rather walk.” And so I did.

To be sure, this wasn’t the first time I’d been scammed, nor was it the first time I’d been forced to pya a price I knew was too high in spite of protesting against it. It was, however, the first time I felt in mortal danger because of (just) defiance — but thankfully,  the cooler demeanor I’d evolved into by that point enabled me to react in a way that saw me exit the situation alive and well, even if I was slightly poorer than I wanted to be.

Encountering diversity while traveling has allowed me to see immature and flawed sides of myself that have always been there, but that literally never come out “at home” because of how devoid of conflict my easy existence here is.

Indeed by allowing myself to face adversity, I have permanently corrected many flaws in my behavior and thought process, flaws that would still be poisoning my daily interactions under the surface today if I hadn’t confronted them, even if they never fully reared their ugly heads.

Have you ever faced adversity while traveling? Tell me about your experience in a comment!

Although I reside in Austin, Texas, I see the city as more of a recharge zone than a home. I live my life here in a simple, structured and often solitary manner.

Last Wednesday, I made an exception to this rule and participated in a new “queer” bike ride, which was organized by Zach and Brett, a couple of my good friends. Among the dozens of fellow gay cyclists I met on the ride was a Web programmer named Aaron who, in addition to being adorable, also happens to be a world traveler.

He countered my account of hedonistic, balmy Tel Aviv with tales of his own experiences in mountain kingdom of Bhutan; he seemed as puzzled by the fact that I’d never been to Bali and I was that South America wasn’t on his travel radar. To be able to speak at length about the world with another Austinite — we are generally not a nomadic bunch — was positively soul-affirming.

Prior to having met Aaron, I was feeling guilty about my decision to travel to Colombia for three weeks starting next Monday. I felt even more conflicted as to whether I should spend the summer traveling through Scandinavia and Russia, a prospect I’m seriously considering. Didn’t I just get back? Summer (my favorite time of the year in Austin) is about to begin, and I’m going to leave again? Really?

After our conversation, however, I felt certain that when faced when the prospect of going or staying, I should always choose going. Until, that is, I received a message from one of my Twitter followers.

The World Outside the City

Just before the telltale tweet came through, I’d been scouting out a late-night bite to eat at a food truck court in East Austin. If you’ve never been to Austin, then you probably don’t understand what a big deal food trucks are here, especially on the city’s “east side.” They serve almost every type of cuisine under the sun, from Mexican, to Italian, to Korean fusion. There’s even a truck that serves only grilled cheese sandwiches, albeit extremely gourmet ones.

I found myself captivated by the chubby, bearded young man who was working the grilled cheese truck that night. He’d be such a little bear cub, I thought, if he were gay. My mind paused for a moment. Like J.D.

J.D., as you almost certainly don’t know, is the name of the young man I dated extremely briefly upon my return from Australia. A little chubby, extremely hairy and (at first anyway) cute and charming, J.D. aggressively pursued me via Facebook before I’d even touched down on U.S. soil. I was physically attracted to him, although he isn’t my usual type. More than that, I liked the fact the he seemed to be into me.

“Seemed,” was the operative word, as we ended up “breaking up” just two weeks after our first meeting — his nonchalant manner when talking to and hanging out with me too greatly contrasted his claims that he was eager to get to know me for my taste. As I walked away from the grilled cheese truck (they didn’t accept plastic; and I never carry cash when I’m in Austin), a wave of sadness came over me. And we never even had sex!

Within a few minutes, a couple of delicious conchinita pibil tacos had taken my mind off my scruffy sort-of ex. By this point, my new travel buddy Aaron was also gone, so I was firmly present in the moment, eating trailer food in East Austin in the middle of the night, Christmas lights hanging overhead, Billy Idol blaring, the existence of a world outside the city limits a moot point.

Unworthy Objects

“Have you read the warning written by President Jefferson about travel?” the tweet asked. President Jefferson? I thought. What the hell is this? I tapped the link and scrolled down to the section titled “Travelling.”

“This,” the former president  wrote,” makes men wiser, but less happy. When men of sober age travel, they gather knowledge, which they may apply usefully for their country; but they are subject ever after to recollections mixed with regret; their affections are weakened by being extended over more objects; and they learn new habits which cannot be gratified when they return home.”

Zach snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Robert. Is everything OK?” Almost unbeknownst to me, we’d migrated away from the food trailer court and to Cheer Up Charlie’s, the mostly gay bar just next to them. The open area out back, where we were sitting, was bustling with loud conversations and dirty looks, and I was tweeting.

“It is,” I said, “I’m just reading something important.”

Zach rolled his eyes and got back to gossiping. I got back to reading.

“Young men who travel,” the dispatch continued, “are exposed to all these inconveniences in a higher degree, to others still more serious, and do not acquire that wisdom for which a previous foundation is requisite, by repeated and just observation at home. The glare of pomp and pleasure is analogous to the motion of the blood; it absorbs all their affection and attention, they are torn from it as the only good in the world, and return to their home as to a place of exile and condemnation. Their eyes are forever turned back to the object they have lost, and its recollection poisons the residue of their lives.

As I read, I felt like how Roberta Flack must’ve felt when she wrote “Killing Me Softly.” How could this man, dead for more than a century before I was born, have known so precisely the tolls travel would take on me, the joy, insight, life experience,  postcard-perfect memories; and the isolation, paranoia, neurosis and torture alike?

And how did he know about my dating habits? “Their first and most delicate passions are hackneyed on unworthy objects here, and they carry home the dregs, insufficient to make themselves or anybody else happy.”

Once He Loves Me, I Can Stay

Indeed, my experience with J.D. was far from an isolated incident. After returning from my third soujourn to Southeast Asia in late 2010 I met Paul, an effervescent Guamanian who’d captured my heart in spite of his evasiveness and who, just weeks later, would trample all over my pumping pith in joyful dance. Then there was Joel…excuse me “Jo-well,” a trust fund kid who didn’t work and slept until 2 p.m. and who came to get me at 5 p.m. when he said he’d be there at noon. I met him literally the day after I got back from South America; within a month, we were no longer speaking.

And who could forget Jet? Jet (real name: Raul) was a boy I met on Grindr, who by the grace of God happened to live literally three blocks from me and, as even greater evidence of God’s grace, was also a world traveler, albeit one who did nothing to document his experiences (he “forgot” his DSLR camera when he went to Nepal) and who funded his wandering habit with stints as a test dummy for major drug companies. When I told him one night, drunk of course, that it just “made sense” for us to be together, he ran away as fast as he could. And I had egg on my face.

I always have egg on my face when I make the dastardly decision to “date” soon after I return home; and I always make that same decision. I always return so relieved to be back; yet terrified of becoming so comfortable in my old skin that I choose, ultimately, never again to venture out into the world. Unless, I tell myself, I meet someone. And then, once I know he loves me, I can stay.

But “he” never does end up loving me; so I can’t stay; and so I leave again. I lose myself; I find myself; I lose myself again. And then I come back and vow to try it all again, not to repeat my earlier mistakes, only to make them much more quickly and decisively, to fall even faster and even harder — and, perhaps mercifully, to be dropped like an even worse habit, even more immediately than the previous object of my affection had seen me as.

I navigated away from the quote for a moment and began typing out a reply to my Twitter follower. You know, I tapped on the screen, I kind of agree with him.

Founded in Experience

Although Mr. Jefferson l had already said more than enough by then, I tabbed back to the quotation once I was finished tweeting, if only for closure.

“Add to this that a habit of idleness, an inability to apply themselves to business is acquired, and renders them useless to themselves and their country. These observations,” he concluded, “are founded in experience.”

I set my phone down and did my best to un-zone-out, but it was largely in vain. At the end of the bike ride, the sort of social endeavor that’s become increasingly rare for me as time passes, I felt so sure that I was making the right decision to accelerate my travel, rather than slow it down. I’m not religious, but I definitely believe in signs. I believe in currents; I believe in serendipity. My having met and conversed with Aaron seemed to be serendiptious.

Why, then, had this dead man’s testimony been fired at me through the ether? Was it the Universe’s way of saying “not so fast, cowboy”? Was it coincidence? Am I reading too far into a chance Twitter mention from a follower whom, however delightful she may be, I don’t know at all?

Not wanting to continue being anti-social, I put my phone away and gabbed for a moment, before heading home more than an hour after my self-imposed bedtime. I slept on it and woke up, not surprisingly, somewhere near the midpoint of where my intuition was guiding me and what the former president had written.

There is no doubt in my mind that my frequent travel has retarded my ability to effectively and rationally live my life in a static place although, to be fair, I do imagine I would very quickly re-adapt to such a life, if doing so ever becomes necessary or advantageous. Of course the personal growth, poignant encounters and omniscient (compared to the vast majority of people I meet) perspective my voyages have afforded me counter any retrograde they cause, perhaps in congruent measure.

To be sure, the letter’s last assertion — that nomads are prone to idleness and an inability to succeed in business affairs — is patently false thanks to technology, which allows me to channel all aspects of my travel experience, positive and negative, into this blog, an endeavor that is not only beneficial to society, but also increasingly profitable and facilitative of subsequent travel. Globetrotting has become its own cycle within my life and while it is, at times, a vicious one, I feel that it is also a necessary one.

I need to be careful not to manifest these words of warning in my life, as profoundly as reading them has affected me. Indeed, I must disprove the seeming prophecy they set forth, rather than allow it to fulfill itself through me.

I’ve mentioned before that I consider the Philippines to be “Asia’s Grab Bag” due to the diverse range of activities, landscapes and cultures present in the country. Among the most unique of the country’s offerings is mountainous Ifugao province, located in the northern part of the “big island” of Luzon.

In addition to being greener, mistier and significantly cooler than the rest of the tropical Philippines, Ifugao is home to the Banaue Rice Terraces, a UNESCO World Heritage site. According to some anthropologists, the Banaue Rice Terraces are the oldest existing example of human agriculture, and date back more than 5,000 years.

The town of Banaue, your base for exploring Ifugao province

I cannot recommend highly enough that you make the trek to Banaue Rice Terraces, which involves a 10-hour bus ride from Manila to the town of Banaue, pictured above. As “cool” as the rickety town looks, the region’s primitiveness is sad — I’m told these houses don’t hold up well in the earthquakes that sweep through here on a relatively frequent basis. Even more disturbing? The fact that I heard Justin Bieber’s voice blaring out of one of them.

A traditional dance performance at the Banaue Hotel

I traveled to Banaue Rice Terraces with Ivan Henares, the Philippines’ most popular travel blogger, and as a result enjoyed a complimentary stay at a government-run hotel in the Banaue Town Center center. The night of our arrival, we were treated to a dance performance by local children in the lobby of the hotel, since it was too late to make it to Banaue Rice Terraces.

The Banaue Hotel is the only hotel-style accommodation in Ifugao province

The hotel, unimaginatively named “Banaue Hotel,” is the only actual hotel property in all of Ifugao province, and a popular base for tourists visiting Banaue Rice Terraces. The hotel is situated just above Banaue’s town center and provides spectacular views of the town, particularly in the morning, when the sun is strong enough to burn through the haze that usually rolls over the hills of Ifugao province.

Once you're on you way toward the terraces, the conventions of civilization begin to fall away, in some cases quite literally

The Banaue Rice Terraces are only around 12 km away from Banaue’s town center, but this number is deceptive. The “roads” leading to Banaue Rice Terraces are muddy and poorly maintained, to say nothing of the homes and businesses that sit along the road. Due to the treacherousness of these roads, travel times are extremely slow. This is good if you’re a photographer — you don’t even have to ask to stop for photos!

You'll take a "Jeepeney," the most popular form of public transport in the Philippines, until the vehicle can't make it anymore

You’ll more than likely travel to Banaue Rice Terraces in a “Jeepney,” like the ones pictured above. The most popular form of public transport in the Philippines, the Jeepney is something of a cross between a Jeep and the “tuk-tuk” you find in much of the rest of Southeast Asia. Jeepeneys are spacious (they can accommodate as many as 60 locals at a time) and can drive on extremely rugged terrain. If Ifugao province has gotten a lot of rain in advance of your visit to Banaue Rice Terraces, however, the Jeepneys might have to stay behind.

You're likely to complete at least part of your journey toward Banaue Rice Terraces on foot

In this instance, you’ll have to complete the rest of your journey to Banaue Rice Terraces on foot like Ivan, myself and our tour guide (who was also named Robert) did. The walk is extremely beautiful, albeit long, muddy and hilly. If you aren’t in great shape, you might want to rent a pair of walking sticks like Ivan did. Depending on how far your Jeepney makes it, you can expect to walk between 1-2 hours to get to Banaue Rice Terraces, each way.

The Philippine government is working overtime to improve infrastructure in Ifugao province

As you’ve probably already gathered, getting to Banaue Rice Terraces is a strenuous, time-consuming process, which owes itself to the poor infrastructure of Ifugao province. Ironically, the government has long held back development of the region, fearing that making it too modern might somehow make it less of a draw to foreign tourists visiting Banaue Rice Terraces. This has been, as Robert explained to me, to spite locals, whose lives are still extremely difficult, in spite of how much money tourism brings the region. As of December 2010, when I visited, there wasn’t a single school bus in Ifugao province, which meant that some students had to walk as far as two hours each way to and from school. Thankfully, that appears to be changing.

The so-called "amphitheater," the main attraction of the Banaue Rice Terraces

The difficulty of getting there notwithstanding, the Banaue Rice Terraces are really something to behold. Even if you aren’t able to wrap your mind around the fact that it’s been continuously farmed for almost five millennia, the sheer scale of the terraces (perhaps best illustrated by the main “amphitheater” shown above) is positively awe-inspiring. The Banaue Rice Terraces are definitely worth the long trek it takes to reach them, although the fact that you have to make the same long trek back to Banaue Town is a bit of a buzz-kill, I must admit.

I love the adrenaline rush that comes along with travel, whether it’s stepping off the plane, walking onto a chaotic street in a city I’ve never visited before, taking in a breathtaking view or sunset or having a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, like camping in the Sahara desert or sailing the Nile river on a traditional felucca boat.

But in my mind, these activities are linked more to tourism than to actual travel. Making a distinction between “tourism” and “travel” (and, indeed, between “tourists” and “travelers”) has always been an extremely contentious task, but to me the difference lies in the long-term impact a particular experience has on you.

While tourist activities might make your heart pump or a smile come across your face momentarily, experiences rooted in travel affect you profoundly and alter you permanently. I only occasionally think back to the day I spent exploring the small towns on the periphery of Mandalay, Burma, for example, but I will never forget the five-minute conversation I had with a monk named Henry.

Connection

To be sure, connection with other people is probably my favorite of the long-term impacts travel has had on me. The most meaningful encounters are often also the most momentary. When I visited Beijing’s Forbidden City in 2010, I was stressed out for a number of reasons. An elderly passerby practically begged me to take his portrait. He smiled wider than anyone else I’d ever seen, in spite of the fact that he had almost no teeth. “Don’t worry, be happy” indeed.

I’ve also had the opportunity to connect with other travelers, thanks in large part to the social environment of hostels and lo-tech forms of transport. En route from Thailand to Cambodia in 2010 I encountered fellow southerners Amber and Kale, with whom I would travel the coast of Vietnam that July and August. This past March in Noosa, Australia, I made the acquaintance of Genevieve, a young Canadian student whose verve and passion for travel continues to inspire. And I met Bianca, my best friend, at a Paris café in 2007.

Connection isn’t just limited to daytime encounters either: To me, sex is a big part of getting to know a place. I won’t go into specific, gory details here, but for more on my perspective about hooking up on the road, you can read my articles about casual sex in Brazil and using the Grindr app to meet other gay men when you travel internationally.

Perspective

Travel also provides you with a broad perspective it’s difficult to get any other way. One of the most profound illustrations of this for me has been how travel in developing countries has impacted my perception of life in the United States, as I detailed in a post last week. The perspective travel affords you doesn’t always present itself in terms of cliché dichotomies like rich vs. poor, however.

As you may or may not know, I lived in Shanghai for the better part of a year. The economic and professional benefits of my having lived there notwithstanding, I was positively sickly by the time I left. When I boarded my plane to Vietnam at the end of my stay, my skin was more broken out than it had ever been, my eyes and lungs were infected and I was gauntly thin from frequent food borne illness. Anybody who doesn’t believe that humans are destroying the environment needs to live in China!

Shortly after departing China, I spent two weeks in Muslim Malaysia during the holy month of Ramadan. Adherents to Islam fast every day of Ramadan, consuming food and water only after the sun has set. It sounded ridiculous to me, so I naturally had to try it — it was positively harrowing, even for a day. The rationale my friend’s mother gave, however, put it into context. “During this time,” she explained, “we are equal, just as we always are in the eyes of God. Rich and poor alike go hungry.”

Endurance

I have fallen ill on the road my fair share of times, usually to the tune of once per trip. Sometimes it isn’t surprising — I probably shouldn’t have eaten the street meat I spotted on the way to Essaouira, Morocco. On the other hand, I didn’t really expect to spend Christmas day slumped over a toilet after a meal at a four-star restaurant in Shanghai. The great thing about getting food poisoning so often is that I know what I’m in for as soon as the first symptoms set in, and pace myself accordingly.

I knew after my third trip to the restroom when I was touring Australia’s Whitsunday Islands, for example,  that my sickness wasn’t going to be over quickly, yet I felt comfortable enough in my discomfort the following morning to board the Greyhound bus as planned and head north to Magnetic Island. The takeaway is that while I certainly don’t enjoy sickness any more than I ever have, I am now able to cope with it, to be present in my own misery, more than I ever have been.

Even if you’ve got an iron stomach, taking long trips like I do boosts your endurance in and of itself. Whether it’s going a month without sex and alcohol in Muslim North Africa, traveling entirely by long-distance bus for two months in South America or simply getting to the point where you think a six-hour flight is short, you become stronger and more resilient the more often you travel.

Humility

Travel is also very frequently a matter of swallowing your pride. My last night in São Paulo, Brazil, I headed out to a bar on Frei Caneca Street with Will, my favorite of the too-many men I met in Brazil’s underrated megacity. We were having a tender moment together when an oaf I would later found out he knew shouted something obnoxious in my direction. One thing led to another and before I knew it, I had officially been asked to leave.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of putting up a fight against the extremely built door guy, and found myself quite literally thrown on the pavement and kicked in the face. Although I was able to walk without feeling pain after only a few days, the scar on my face remained for several months. More importantly, however, I learned that you shouldn’t always fight something, even if you truly believe yourself to be just. As one of my favorite quotes says, “it’s more important to be smart than right.”

Of course, you won’t always have your ass handed to you physically, even if someone threatens to do so. While visiting Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula, I negotiated (or so I thought) a fixed rate of 300 LE for a taxi to and from Ras Mohammed National Park. Unbelievably, the driver demanded 900 LE from me when he dropped me off and I staunchly refused. After being made to fear for my life and my camera, we met in the middle (600 LE) — and I had a new appreciation for the importance of compromise.

When I was doing preliminary research for my trip to South America last year, I was shocked to find out that a cemetery, of all places, was listed among the top tourist attractions in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Specifically Recoleta Cemetery where, to be fair, Eva Perón is buried.

Even if you can’t sing the soundtrack to “Evita” in your sleep like I can, Recoleta Cemetery is a fabulous place to spend a morning or afternoon in Buenos Aires — it’s like a small city in and of itself. Plus, for all the bravado surrounding the former first lady and her memory, Evita’s burial plot is surprisingly small, considering how grand the rest of Recoleta Cemetery is.

The Quest for Evita

Recoleta Cemetery is nothing short of a city for the dead

I’m not going to lie: The primary reason I visited Recoleta Cemetery was because I wanted to see Eva Perón’s tomb. Now I wasn’t a super-fan of the movie or musical by any means, nor do I particularly like Madonna or Andrew Lloyd Weber. Still, I could sing “Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina” before I knew basically anything else about Argentina (I was 11 when the movie came out), so seeing Evita’s tomb was an important part of my first visit to Argentina.

Once I entered into the incredible Recoleta Cemetery, however, Evita was the furthest thing from my mind. Recoleta Cemetery is a proverbial city of the dead, many of its larger tombs more like houses and apartment blocks than grave markers. It’s grand in a way that’s different from the upmarket Recoleta neighborhood, but is just as breathtaking. I mean, who expects a cemetery to be incredible? Well I kind of do, having seen the Chinese Cemetery in Manila and all. But you don’t, do you?

Getting to Recoleta Cemetery

Allow yourself to get lost in Recoleta Cemetery, and explore the finer details

Recoleta Cemetery is located in the Recoleta neighborhood of Buenos Aires, the city’s swankiest. Recoleta’s broad, tree-lined boulevards are among the most European in the so-called “Paris of the South,” its sidewalk cafés and bistros among the most charming (and, not surprisingly, the most expensive) in Argentina’s capital. Recoleta Cemetery is the final resting place for wealthy Argentinians, so it makes sense that the cemetery is in the place where they all most likely lived.

Recoleta Cemetery is located literally 10 minutes’ walking time from Retiro terminal, the busiest bus station in the world and the place where you’re likely to arrive in and depart Buenos Aires, if you travel South America by bus like I suggest. The area around Retiro station is pretty sketchy, so ask the least sketchy-looking person how to get to the cemetery. From elsewhere in Buenos Aires you can either take a taxi, or take the Buenos Aires Subte (Metro) to either Retiro or Callao.

Recoleta Cemetery Guided Tours

Recoleta Cemetery is not surprisingly home to its fair share of gaudiness

Guided tours of Recoleta Cemetery are available if you want insight into the lives of non-Evita people who are buried in the cemetery. You can book Recoleta Cemetery tours in advance at your hotel or hostel or, if you prefer, at the entrance to the cemetery. Although Recoleta Cemetery costs nothing to enter, it has a tourist information booth. You shouldn’t pay a random person who approaches you to give you a tour, as they are likely a scammer who may or may not give you accurate information.

I didn’t personally take a tour, because I visited Recoleta Cemetery literally hours before my bus to Iguazú Falls departed Retiro terminal. Rather, I ooh-ed and aah-ed my own way through the cemetery’s sprawling 14 acres. I laughed as one overly gaudy tomb marker out-tackied the one I saw before it. I felt joyful as I navigated Recoleta Cemetery’s rows and columns. I felt joyful in a f*cking cemetery!

So, Where Is Evita Anyway?

This plaque is basically all that remains of Eva Perón

Oh yeah, back to Evita. So where in Recoleta Cemetery is Eva Perón buried? It might come as a shock, but her tomb is neither conspicuous nor particularly large. Although she is without a doubt Argentina’s most ubiquitous pop culture export, she isn’t necessarily popular in Argentina — the “Peronism” ideology is these days associated with the authoritarianism that overtook Argentina in the wake of both Peróns’ deaths. D’oh!

Geographically, Evita’s tomb is located in the southeast quadrant of Recoleta Cemetery. I don’t remember the exact row — a tour guide will be happy to help you find it, even if you don’t take a tour with her — but if you want to see Evita first thing when you enter Recoleta Cemetery, turn left immediately after you enter from Avenida Junin and find her from there.

It’s 4:20 (on 4/20, no less!), which means that most of you in and around my time zone have already clocked out for the week. For those of you who aren’t yet high or drunk on something, I’d like to take a moment to explain the ins and outs my travel inspiration.

This post is in response to my good friend Megan of Bohemian Trails, who nominated me in her post on the same subject. Click here to read the rules for this “Inspiration Initiative” as set forth by easyJet, a low-cost airline that can fly you cheaply to basically anywhere in Europe.

Who

That's my father holding me. My sister and Mom are the two ladies in this shot! (Houston, 1987)

My father, a steel salesman, traveled around the country five (or more) days per week for the better part of my childhood. I was happy to see him go — but not about the fact that he was leaving. Rather, the sight of airplanes taking off from St. Louis’ Lambert International Airport always sent a thrill through my little body.

I was of fascinated by the fact the spending just a few hours in one of these pressurized tubes as it sped through the air could take you to almost anywhere you wanted to go, but my love of airplanes didn’t end there. I knew the names and liveries of all the major airlines and could identity most major aircraft types before I knew how to multiply or divide.

What

My parents gave me a large world map for my sixth birthday in 1991. Just as I’d almost instantly absorbed all the facts my father told me about the airplanes I flew on, I quickly became familiar with all of the countries on the map, as well as their capitals, their sizes and their locations relative to one another.

I used to fall asleep dreaming about what life was like in, say, Tehran or Jakarta. I would check out as many books on foreign countries as I could find from the library at Uthoff Valley Elementary School and read as much as I could, hoping (but not knowing) that I would eventually be able to see at least a few of them in real life.

When

Palolem Beach, Goa, India: When it all began (March 2009)

We moved several times during my childhood and for this fact alone, I got to see a great deal of the country, if in a transitory, un-glamorous way. I would spend most of the money I earned working part-time during high school and college following my favorite singer, Tori Amos, around the country and, eventually, back and forth across Europe.

It wasn’t until 2009, when I traveled to India, that I truly feel I became inspired to travel. India was the only “different” place I had been up to that point, and although I found myself frequently stressed out, annoyed or sick — usually, all three at once — I knew the moment I got on the plane back to America that I was never going to be able to keep my itchy feet in one place again.

Where

China: Where it all began

Unfortunately, the tangible circumstances of my life upon returning from India weren’t such that I could just pick up and leave. I’d been unemployed for several months, and prospects of finding a job that would both finance my travels and afford me the time to travel seemed dim. Desperate, I found a job teaching English in Shanghai and that November, headed over the Pacific.

Living in China not only allowed to learn about a culture slowly and in-depth, but exposed me to incredible professional opportunities. Most notably, I got a gig freelancing with CNNGo, the network’s online product aimed at wealthy expats living in Asia. Shortly thereafter, I began freelance writing full-time and, since freelance income is 100% location-independent, have been traveling as frequently as my sanity allows ever since.

Feeling inspired to start your own incredible journey? Subscribe to email updates now if you haven’t yet.

I hereby nominate:

LatinAbroad
Travels of Adam
Around the World L
Living the Dream: RTW
Micamyx

(Apologies if any of you have already written your entries; if you haven’t you also need to nominate five other bloggers once you post yours)

Like many backpackers, I travel a lot in developing or “third world” countries. You know, areas like Southeast Asia, India, The Middle East and South America, where costs of lodging, transport and food are low, even for people like me, who earn modest incomes by Western standards.

The reason travelers like me enjoy such low costs, of course, is that residents of the third world tend to earn low incomes and have poor standards of living, a truth of which I become more aware each time I visit developing countries. But more than that, travel in the developing world has highlighted how incredibly easy our developed world lives are.

We Are Rich

My first experience traveling in the developing world was in India, which is home to some of the world’s most abject poverty, in spite of its swelling national GDP. Many memories of that trip have faded in the three years that have since  passed, but one that remains vivid in my mind is of a poor orphan girl, who was running underneath the train as I was on as it headed into Jaipur’s Central Railway station. “Five rupees,” she begged, jumping up as high as she could when she spoke so that those of us on the train could see her. Five rupees is equal to approximately 10 cents.

Another encounter that has stuck with me occurred in the dusty town of Uyuni, Bolivia, gateway to the Salar de Uyuni “salt flat” frequented by backpackers like me. I was waiting in line at a local when a very indigenous-looking woman walked up to the teller next to me. She asked to withdraw five bolivianos (less than $1) from her account. The teller informed her that since the last time she had used her account, the balance had been completely eaten away by fees. Even worse, several of the locals who also overheard this encounter quite loudly trash-talked the woman as she stumbled away.

Now, I don’t completely discount talks of the “crisis” and “recession” back in the U.S. and Europe — times are indeed “tougher” than they’ve been in my lifetime, at least in relative terms. But when I hear people complaining about not being able to “afford” gas (usually, via Facebook on their $100-per-month iPhones), I get a little sick to my stomach. We in the developed world have become so used to having everything that we’ve equated going without one or two of those things to going without completely. For most of the rest of the world, being fed, clothed and sheltered would be sufficient.

We Are Free

I’ve always been a bit put off by the notion of gay pride, mainly because I don’t know how much sense it makes to be proud of something you can’t control. My travels in the Muslim world, however, have changed my perspective on this. Did you know, for example, that even a suspicion of being homosexual in parts of the Middle East and North Africa can land you in prison? I spent the month I traveled in Egypt and Morocco last year as in-the-closet as I’ve been since high school, which made me appreciate the notion of gay pride for the first time ever: Expressing oneself is a first-world luxury.

The freedoms we take for granted aren’t just identity-related, either. While visiting the Banaue Rice Terraces in the mountainous northern Philippines, I struck up a conversation with my tour guide, who was also incidentally named Robert. He explained to me that although he took great pleasure in guiding visitors though his home region, his main source of income was his father’s farm. Ignorantly, I asked him what he ultimately wanted to do in his life. “What I want,” he said, “doesn’t really matter. I need to work the soil to feed my children, who will need to work it to feed theirs.” He smiled. “And so forth.”

Although America is the self-proclaimed “Land of Opportunity,” many people here feel disappointed or even cheated when they aren’t able to immediately fulfill their dreams: They equate “opportunity” with “guarantee.” Just like a child who cries when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants for Christmas, they fail to realize that the chance is the gift — opportunity is priceless! The chance to be yourself, to choose your own path in life, to be happy on your own terms. Most people in the world have no chance; indeed, they have no choice. We do!

We Are Safe

I frequently recount my experience crossing into Israel the first time, which saw me detained at the land border with Jordan for nearly five hours. At the time I tried to put it all into perspective. After all, I thought, Israel does face threats from all sides, and has to do what it has to do to protect itself. Upon returning to Jordan, I would hear several first-hand accounts of the proverbial “other side” of the story, which revealed that Palestinians are actually the ones who should be afraid, with only rocks, stones and crude firearms to defend themselves against machine guns, tanks and white phosphorous.

Although both Israel and the Palestinian territories are small in size and population, the conflict between them is a microcosm of the tension that exists between the larger developed world and developing world population groups. The governments and, to a lesser extent, the people living in developed countries believe that the governments and peoples of third-world nations (particularly Muslims) present an existential threat their very existences. To prevent this, they pre-emptively strike out each and every one of these potential threats, often without debate or deliberation.

I have personally traveled to many countries that are said to be “harboring terrorists,” from Lebanon, to Egypt, to Myanmar prior to last year’s democratic elections. In each instance I’ve been shocked: Not only have I experienced literally zero outward hostility on account of being American, but the outpouring of generosity and kindness has been overwhelming (at least from those whose perceive me as being straight). That we feel threatened enough by such people to destroy them represents the most tragic disconnect of our time: We are so unaware of how safe we are that we create danger where it (mostly) doesn’t exist.

I Am Thankful

The common thread I see running through public discourse and sentiment in the U.S. (and, to a lesser extent, the developed nations of Europe) is scarcity. We aren’t rich enough. We aren’t free enough. We aren’t safe enough. Inherent in the concept of scarcity is entitlement, the idea that we should have more, but don’t. Scarcity represents a lack of things, which precludes taking them from others. The overall dynamic of such a world view is destructive: When you source what you lack from someone or somewhere else, they become poorer and when whatever you’re using runs out, you are also poor.

Traveling in poor countries hasn’t made me want to join an NGO and save the world. It hasn’t made me want to give up the freedoms and luxuries I enjoy, give them to people who don’t have them, to adopt a life of poverty so that I may understand the plight of the less fortunate without any hypocrisy. Rather, it has made me thankful, and caused me to consciously manifest an attitude of thankfulness. Thankfulness is the foundation of creativity and is the opposite of entitlement. Thankfulness is likewise the basis of abundance, rather than scarcity.

Becoming aware of how rich I am, how free I am and how safe I am has, thus far, resulted in me feeling richer, freer and safer than I’ve ever felt. Am I actually any richer, freer or safer for it? I don’t truly know. But I am certainly happier: I am more frequently satisfied than disappointed; I only rarely feel entitled, but often feel thankful. I don’t feel confined by boundaries that others define, but confident that they are figments of our collective imagination. I am not fearful of the increasingly bleak picture the powers that be paint of our future; I am hopeful that we can all paint over it before it’s complete.

Australia’s perennial “second” city, Melbourne usually plays second fiddle to larger Sydney, whose picturesque harbor, bridge and Opera House (its having hosted the 2000 Olympic Games notwithstanding) have made it the country’s de-facto representative on the world stage.

Melbourne might not be as massive, well-known or as in-your-face beautiful as Sydney, but the city is without a doubt Australia’s capital of cool. Colorful, hip and in spots downright futuristic, Melbourne should be at the top of every Australia traveler’s itinerary. Here’s a preview of what you can expect to find there.

Historical Flinders Street station in Melbourne's CBD

You’ll quickly learn upon visiting Australia that a city’s central business district or “CBD” area is far from the “place to be,” particularly at night. Melbourne is perhaps more than any other Australian city an exception to this rule, if only for the juxtaposition of colonial architecture with some of the most modern skyscrapers on the planet.

Smith Street in the heart of trendy Fitzroy

If you don’t happen to be feeling the CBD, hop on any tram labeled “86 – Bundoora/RMIT” and ask the driver to notify you when you’ve arrived in Smith Street. Smith Street is the hip main artery of super-cool Fitzroy, the arguable coolest of Melbourne’s many cool neighborhoods. Although the avenue is dotted with awesome bars and restaurants — my personal favorite is Huxtaburger, a burger grill themed to “The Cosby Show” — you can opt to simply stroll along Smith Street and let the hipness wash over you.

Brunswick Street, which runs parallel to Smith Street, is washed with psychedelic street art

Once you’ve had your fill of Smith Street, which defines the eastern border of Fitzroy, head west toward Brunswick Street, the moon to Smith Street’s sun. Although incredible street art is also present on Smith Street, I find Brunswick’s to be more colorful, nuanced and funky, as the café scene above illustrates.

Melbourne's funkiness extends outside its immediate city center, as these "bathing boxes" in the coastal suburb of Brighton illustrate

Sydneysiders who diss Melbourne often use the fact that city doesn’t have a harbor to bolster their feelings of superiority, but they often neglect the fact the Melbourne does, in fact, have beaches. Is the capital of Victoria home to any coastline as pristine and beautiful as those you find in Sydney’s Bondi, Coogee or Manley neighborhoods? Absolutely not. But in true funky Melbourne fashion, the colorful bathing boxes in suburban Brighton more than make up for the less-than-surfworthy sea.

Of course, a day at Brighton Beach doesn't require you to travel too far from central Melbourne

Brighton is located just 15 minutes from Flinders Street Station by train, which means that you can take in stunning skyline views as you soak up the sun, which admittedly shines only fleetingly during even the hottest part of the city’s summer. Brighton is also located in close proximity to St. Kilda, another interesting coastal suburb, whose historic Chapel Street becomes one of the city’s hottest spots as soon as night falls.

Federation Square, located just opposite Flinders Street station, is home to a performing arts venue, dining, bars, entertainment and the city's official tourist information center

Heading back to Melbourne’s CBD for a second, do make sure and at least walk through Federation Square when you visit the city. In addition to the fact that the square offers incredible skyline views, particularly at night, you’ll find awesome dining, bars and even the helpful tourist information booth located in close proximity to it.

A trip down the hard-to-find Croft Alley takes you to the aptly-named Croft Institute, a bar that was previously a mental institution

Looking for a unique place to spend a night out? Walk or take a cab to Melbourne’s Chinatown, then ask any local where you can find Croft Alley, which is hard to spot if you don’t know where to look. If the street art that papers most of the alley’s walls isn’t bizarre enough, what you find at its dead end should positively freak you out. The Croft Institute was, well, a mental institution in the 1950s and although it’s a trendy bar now, relics of the tests that went on there half a century ago will creep you out, particularly if you’re there early, when the bar is nearly empty.

If you're feeling less adventurous, head back to Fitzroy's Gertrude Street, where establishments that were coffee shops by day transform into lively bars

Of course, Melbourne is also home to its share of “normal” bars. Remember Gertrude Street in Fitzroy, lined with boutiques, hairstylists and coffee shops? Many of the places where you’d enjoy a “flat white” or “long black” during the day convert into busy bars and pubs by night, so if you want to throw back a few — but don’t want to risk being haunted by the ghosts of psychiatric torture victims — head on up to Gertrude Street, join a table with empty chairs and start a conversation with a hipster.

Travel is transformative by default: Traveling allows you to feel emotions, encounter situations and meet people to which you would be completely oblivious if you stayed at home.

Unless you’re a super high-end traveler, traveling also forces you to be more efficient. The more you travel, the more aware you become of what you need (and don’t need) to travel effectively. Eventually, you get to the point where you know exactly what you need to take with you, down to individual items and even certain intangibles.

Every traveler is obviously different, but here are seven things I’ve found don’t serve much of a purpose when I’m on the road.

1. Large luggage

Backpackers are easy to spot because of their obnoxious camping backpacks. I say obnoxious not only because said backpacks make you look like a douche — hey, they do! — but because they’re unnecessary. As I detail in a video post from last August, it’s possible to travel for two months with just two carry-on sized pieces of luggage.

2. Strict diet/exercise

Travel is active in nature. Whether you’re scaling Machu Picchu, camping in Morocco’s Sahara desert or exploring the Australia Zoo, you’re not only moving around constantly (and probably quickly) but you won’t have a lot of time or energy to snack and graze like you do at home. If you gain weight while traveling, you aren’t traveling hard enough!

3. Your whole wardrobe

At home, I have a (relatively) large wardrobe for two reasons: Firstly, because I like to vary my look; and secondly, because I hate doing laundry. Both of these concerns are moot out on the open road: You won’t encounter the same people often enough for them to notice you haven’t changed clothes; and having your laundry done and folded for you is dirt-cheap in most places.

4. Expectations

My favorite part of travel is discovery, which is why I tend not to do too much research in advance of a trip — I prefer to hit the streets (or dirt roads, as the case may be) with my camera and an open mind. Indeed, expectations are even more futile when you travel as they are in real life. When in doubt, follow these four simple steps: (1) Arrive, (2) explore, (3) leave and (4) be thankful.

5. Blow dryer

I’m obsessed with having good hair, so it might come as a surprise that I’m suggesting you not take a blow dryer with you when you travel. The reason I’m recommending this is two-fold. First and foremost, blow dryers take up a lot of space; secondly, travel time is far too precious to worry about your hair more than occasionally.

6. Mobile phone service

I’ve forgone having cellphone service on most of my trips, so trust what I say: Not carrying a (working) mobile phone with you is absolutely freeing. Not only are you not checking your phone constantly, but not having one gives you an incentive to be where you say you’re going to be when you say you’re going to be there. You know, like our parents used to do. Unless, of course, you use Wi-Fi, which I frequently do. Grindr anyone?

7. Attitude

Part of being transformed by travel is not clinging to your proverbial “old ways.” A big part of this is getting rid of your attitude, however essential you might feel it is to your personality. Resist the urge to talk back or have the last word; spend more time listening than talking; and don’t be afraid to admit when you’re wrong or when someone else is right.

When I called the National Passport Center recently to inquire about the status of my passport, the representative told me that my passport was at the Charleston Passport Center, but that the center didn’t have a phone number. I wasn’t surprised — poor customer service and the U.S. government go hand-in-hand, after all.

Still, I didn’t buy the “sorry, no phone number” bit for a second — and I desperately needed to get in contact with someone there regarding my passport, which was having extra visa pages added.

If your passport is also at the Charleston Passport Center and you have an upcoming trip, I have good news and more good news for you. First of all, the Charleston Passport Center absolutely has a phone number; and secondly, the level of customer service there is absolutely impeccable.

When To Call Charleston Passport Center

I sent my passport in a couple weeks ago to have more visa pages added to it. Unfortunately, although I enclosed my passport and the application and expedited it to the National Passport Center, I forgot to enclose the check. As soon as I realized my error, I contacted the National Passport Center at 877-487-2778 to inquire about where I should send payment to ensure prompt processing.

I ended up calling in several times due to how unhelpful each progressive National Passport Center staff member was. Most told me that there was literally nothing I could do, that I simply had to wait for the government to contact me and ask for payment or, worse, return everything to me and start the process over. I tried not to be too demanding — after all, it was my fault at the end of the day — but I was also frustrated that I couldn’t get a straight answer.

The last time I called the National Passport Center, I asked the lady I spoke with where my passport was being processed. The Charleston Passport Center, she told me. Great, I thought. It will be much easier to deal with a smaller center. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be: She informed me that, unfortunately, the Charleston Passport Center didn’t have a phone number.

Charleston Passport Center Phone Number

I know bullshit when I smell it, so I immediately got onto Google and began looking for the Charleston Passport Center phone number. To my dismay, most of the pages I found directed me to discussion forum threads where others were asking the same question. I pressed on through several pages of Google search results with basically no luck.

No luck, that is, until I happened upon a blog that contained a list of phone numbers bearing Charleston area codes. All of the phone numbers, the blog said, belonged to the Charleston Passport Center, but not all of them worked. Among the phone numbers the blog listed for the Charleston Passport Center were 843-746-1690, 843-746-1691 and 843-746-1692.

Customer Service at Charleston Passport Center

If you get through to the Charleston Passport Center, it won’t be to the center’s customer service department. All of the numbers I listed ring through to the desks of Charleston Passport Center employees.

The woman who answered my phone call was attentive and seemed concerned. When I asked her for an address where I should mail the check, she asked me if I’d prefer to pay by charge, to get the process back in motion immediately. There was obviously no question in my mind!

She took down my name and phone number and told me she was forwarding them to a customer service representative who would call me back. Sure enough, 15 minutes later, I was on the phone when an even friendlier young woman from the Charleston Passport Center’s customer service department.

Incredibly, she not only processed my credit card payment, but also made sure the extra visa pages were added to my passport right then and there. She even offered me an expedited shipping option: This was Thursday afternoon; I had my passport Friday morning!

When Not To Call Charleston Passport Center

Service at the Charleston Passport Center is friendly and quick, especially when compared to the awful service at the National Passport Center. Still, there is a reason the customer service phone number for the Charleston Passport Center isn’t published: Employees at the Charleston Passport Center aren’t generally meant to deal with the public.

In fact, according to some of the forum posts I’d read while searching for the Charleston Passport Center’s phone number, you are technically supposed to call the center only after you have asked your congressional representative to expedite your passport on your behalf. Obviously, I don’t think this is actually the case, given my personal experience to the contrary.

As a rule of thumb, I would contact Charleston Passport Center only if you have imminent travel plans and can’t get anywhere with the National Passport Center. If you aren’t traveling within the next couple weeks, I wouldn’t bother calling Charleston Passport Center, as doing so prevents employees from helping others who are traveling more immediately than you are.

As I mentioned in my recent article about Greyhound buses in Australia, opting for cheap transport is one way to combat the usually excessive price of transport in Australia. Another way to travel less expensively in Australia is to stay in hostels, just as you would in Europe or South America.

Unlike the majority of hostels around the world, which become better and better as the number of backpackers grows and backpacker needs evolve, Australian hostels are generally lackluster. Although you won’t ever be subject to unsafe or unclean conditions, Australian hostels provide the worst value for money of backpacker accommodation anywhere in the world. Indeed, the better option might to procure a unique apartment in Sydney or another Australian city.

Australian Hostel Chains

The backpacker travel market in Australia isn’t nearly as large as the ones in Europe or even South America, which has allowed several national and international hostel chains to establish dominance. No matter where in Australia you travel, you’re practically guaranteed to see hostels from large chains like YHA and Nomads.

Although booking a bed at a chain hostel gives you an avenue for recourse in the event that you’re dissatisfied — and you probably will be — you shouldn’t necessarily expect that the quality will be better, whether you’re talking about the product or the service. One main advantage of choosing a chain hostel is that they tend to be close to transit hubs, such as Greyhound terminals.

What To Expect in Australian Hostels

When I say Australian hostels “suck,” I don’t mean to suggest they’re dirty or dangerous. Rather, I find they simply don’t hold up well when compared to hostels in Europe and South America, where huge backpacker numbers over the years have forced hostels to compete with one another. Australian hostels might be better described as poor value than outright poor — the average price for a dorm bed is $22-30 per night.

Even if you go “cheap” and book an 8- or 10-bed dorm, you should expect having only one toilet, one shower and a single fan to cool the whole room. The ambiance at most Australian hostels is loud and rowdy, thanks to the percentage of travelers to Australia who are entitled “gap year” kids, so if the heat and full bladder don’t keep you up at night, the partying probably will.

How To Book Australian Hostels

I booked my first couple hostels in Australia in advice on HostelWorld: The Aussitel Hostel in Coffs Harbour and the Byron Beach Resort in Byron Bay. In both instances I felt disappointed and misled when I arrived but, because of HostelWorld’s agreements with its properties, had no choice but to complete my stay, lest I pay the cost of a single night for nothing.

A superior tactic for booking Australian hostels, I’ve found, is not to book them at all. This is particularly easy if you travel Australia via Greyhound bus, as representatives from several hostels meet arriving buses at literally all times of the day and night. You obviously won’t really know what you’re getting until after you’ve checked into your room, but you also avoid setting expectations that may well not be met.

Sometimes you get lucky, like I did at Backpackers by the Bay in Airline Beach, which had a saltwater pool to complement its free breakfast and the excellent service of its staff.

What’s Included and What (Usually) Isn’t

Another area where Australian hostels fall flat when compared to their South American and European counterparts is when it comes to freebies. While hostels that don’t include free breakfast are all but unheard of in most of the world, I stayed at only one hostel in Australia that gave me a free meal, and that was (an inedible) dinner.

Indeed, Australian hostels are defined not be freebies, but by supplementary charges. Room key deposits are all but required by law. To make matters worse, you typically need to pay an additional deposit for your sheets and even your cookware, usually to the tune of $10-20 per item. Obviously, you get your deposit back when you return the items you use, but I find the premise a little juvenile and untrustworthy.

The experience of staying in Australian hostels is dissatisfying not because it’s miserable, but because hostels in Australia do little to enhance the backpacker travel experience. Staying in Australian hostels definitely allows you to stay on a strict Australia travel budget, but in many cases you’ll pay for that by being uncomfortable, annoyed and poorly-rested.

This is a sponsored post from Language Trainers, an Australian company committed to helping non-native English speakers master the English language. If you own a travel-related business and are interested in advertising, visit the Media page to learn more.

English is indeed the must-know language for every non-native English speaker. Undertaking English lessons, however, shouldn’t be a problem for anyone, since it is very easy to find resources of this language to practice. The more you hear, the more you learn

Radio

Radio stations in English are available in most countries through Internet. Among the most popular international networks you can find the BBC World Service and Voice of America. Both of them broadcast programs especially for English learners. However, listening to any local radio station from any English speaking country (whether it be Australia, the UK, New Zealand or the U.S) should be good ear practice.

TV

It is very common to find American sitcoms, movies, shows and soap operas on T.V around the world, due to the role the United States play in the world Entertainment Industry. The advantage is that in your country, you can watch the show and listen, while reading subtitles in your language. If you try to focus on the language and only resort to the subtitles when you are at a loss, you might pick up a lot of slang and common expressions. When choosing to take English courses Auckland students enjoy writing down the new vocabulary they hear on these shows.

The Internet

Any language learner is a good friend of YouTube, especially English learners, since most videos are in English. 60% of YouTube views come from non-English speaking countries, and YouTube is currently available in 51 languages.

However, the advantages of the Internet for language learning are not only about YouTube. VoIP programs like Skype, for example, allow you to talk to any person located anywhere in the world, just using an Internet connection and a headset. Some teachers even offer lessons through Skype as well, and not only language classes but also, for instance, music instruction.

When choosing to learn English Sydney style, students look for YouTube videos where the city is shown, since they generally also feature interviews with locals.

It may be generally expensive to travel in Australia, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get around the country for (relatively) cheap. The most inexpensive way to see in Australia is via the Greyhound buses that criss-cross the continent. Australia Greyhound buses are similar to their American and Canadian counterparts, if a bit “nicer” and more disproportionately filled with backpackers.

Greyhound buses are a particularly great way to travel around Australia if you’re headed in one direction and spreading your trip out over several weeks or months. Whether you purchase a flexible, multi-ride pass, or buy one-way tickets as needed, there is no cheaper way to see Australia than via Greyhound bus.

Greyhound Australia Network and Schedules

The Greyhound Australia network covers nearly all of Australia, with routes traveling north along the coast from Sydney and Melbourne up to Brisbane and even Cairns, as well as from Adelaide, through Australia’s red centre and up to Darwin. Australian Greyhound buses also travel up and down the country’s west coast, and east-west services between Melbourne and Perth are available.

The quality and availability of public transport in Australia sits somewhere between Europe and the United States. Accordingly, Greyhound Australia schedules tend to be ideal for most backpackers, even if they are a bit lacking by international standards.

Still, several buses per day operate each route — and overnight buses (which save you from having to pay for an expensive, probably crappy Australian hostel) are also common. Click here to see the Greyhound Australia route map and plan journeys.

Flexible Greyhound Australia Passes

Although Greyhound Australia’s one-way tickets are relatively cheap when compared to the prices of other traveler necessities in the land down under, the best value is had when you purchase a flexible “Hop On, Hop Off” pass. When I visited Australia in February, for example, I purchased a Sydney-Cairn pass that was good for 90 days for just $386, or a price that ends up being just over 4 Australian dollars per day when you break it down.

Naturally, preconditions do exist. No matter which routing you select — other options include Darwin-Adelaide and Melbourne-Brisbane — you must travel in only one direction; no backtracking is allowed.

It’s further recommended that you book each leg of your journey at least 24 hours in advance to ensure yourself a seat, although I ignored this policy more than once and never got stranded. You can book legs of your journey online by typing in your pass number and a pin you select, then proceeding as if you were buying a new ticket.

Greyhound Australia Tours and Excursions

Another benefit of having a Greyhound pass is that doing so permits you discounts and exclusive deals throughout Australia. If you choose to stay at YHA member properties, for example, your Greyhound pass earns you deep discounts on extended stays. Headed to the Australia Zoo? Purchase your ticket from Greyhound for a discount.

Greyhound also sells backpacker sightseeing packages that bundle together bus travel, hostel stays, and organized tours of famous attractions like The Great Ocean Road, Fraser Island and the Whitsunday Islands. While this is arguably a sterile, skill-less means of traveling in Australia, it’s an ideal option if you’re on a tight budget or schedule and want to make sure you see everything.

Tips for Riding Greyhound Australia

Greyhound Australia is a cheap, comfortable, safe way to travel around Australia, but you shouldn’t anticipate a particularly luxurious journey. It’s true Greyhound Australia’s coaches are cleaner than the ones you’ll find in the U.S. or Canada and are even equipped with audiovisual entertainment systems. Still, there is no food or beverage service and no possiblity for a bigger seat/bed, like you’d have traveling South America by bus.

Australia Greyhound buses generally leave on schedule, so make sure you’re at the station at least 30 minutes early, perhaps even earlier if you have to buy a ticket, which sometimes requires waiting in a long line. Greyhound Australia is strict about the overage penalties it assess for luggage that’s too bulky or heavy, so make sure and consult Greyhound Australia’s latest luggage policies to avoid being charged.

Greyhound Australia requires that its drivers take a 15-minute break at least once every four hours, so you’ll have plenty of time on even the longest journeys to stretch, use the bathroom and maybe even have a lunch or coffee. If you can’t find anything to do while on a break, have a conversation with your driver. All the Greyhound Australia drivers I had were friendly, funny and had plenty of stories to tell.

Shanghai is, by some accounts, the largest city-proper in the world. It is China’s futuristic-looking crown jewel, a monument to the breakneck growth of the Chinese economy and, if all goes as planned, a preview of things to come for the rest of the Middle Kingdom. Shanghai is dizzying in its density and its expanse, the epicenter of an urban agglomeration home to more than 80 million people.

Peace and serenity are in high demand in the city, whose name literally means “above the sea” in Mandarin, but are in increasingly short supply. It is difficult to get to the sea above which Shanghai kind of sits — and when you do, you won’t want to swim in it.

Eight months in Shanghai left me with as much appreciation for the city as disdain, as much insight gained into China’s rise as questions raised about the smoke and mirrors involved. I arrived to Shanghai curious, hopeful and cautious; I left eight months later content with what I knew, having seen enough and done enough to know that it was to time to peace out.

The City That Never Ends

Shanghai's size is as confounding as it is fascinating

When my plane touched down at Pudong Airport, it was through a haze so thick that I could see only the dirt path directly below the aircraft, and the old woman riding along it on her bicycle. Within minutes of departing the airport via taxi, mid-rise buildings and construction crews carpeted the landscape.

Over the near hour it would take to reach central Shangahi, the buildings became so high and densely packed that I literally couldn’t perceive an end to the city. The mega-high-rises of Lujiazui, home to iconic structures like the Shanghai World Financial Center and Oriental Pearl Tower, towered especially high over the rest of 4,000 skyscrapers that dominated the Shanghai cityscape.

It was hazy and muggy when I exited the airport; by the time I’d settled into my hotel and set out to explore the city, night had fallen. The next day started sunny, but progressively became just as hazy and muggy as the first had been. By day three Shanghai’s wet, cold winter had alerted me to its imminent arrival.

Spectacle and Spectators

Finding serenity in Shanghai is much harder than finding spectacle

I spent my first couple weeks in Shanghai more sobered than awestruck. I was more concerned with finding an apartment and getting the hang of my job and less with “ooh”ing and “aah”ing at any of what was going on around me, its massiveness and the breakneck speed at which new people, businesses and structures appeared notwithstanding.

Indeed the spectacle of Lujiazui becomes the furthest thing from your mind as you go about your daily business in Puxi, Shanghai’s less-glitzy half, even if you can occasionally see the Pearl Tower if you look down an east-west street the right way. The neon signs and crowds and hustlers along East Nanjing Road are more infuriating than scene-setting when you’re rushing to get to the office.

I settled into a routine as quickly as I could because I believed, perhaps ignorantly, that the quicker I understood how to live effectively in Shanghai, the more quickly I could get to enjoying my new life. For the vast majority of my co-workers, my students and the friends I would make at work and outside of work, however, the routine is life, it is the city, it is all there is.

The Speed of Shanghai

Shanghai moves fast, perhaps too much so

I was fond of telling people that my front door was 11 minutes from my desk; and this was true, technically. It took just 11 minutes to take an elevator to street level, descend into the nearest metro station, ride to the center of Shanghai, and fight my way through the crowds of People’s Square and, eventually, into my office building and later my desk.

Transport is one of Shanghai’s strong points, whether you travel on one of the city’s 13 metro lines or take a taxi whose seat belts probably won’t fasten, in spite of the recorded English welcome message urging you to buckle yours. It is uniformly cheap — metro journeys cost just three yuan while buses are two and taxis start at 12 — and quick. Taxis and buses are slower than the metro because of traffic, but traffic isn’t nearly as bad as you’d expect it to be for a city this huge.

To be sure, Shanghai’s problem isn’t a lack of speed or efficiency, but in fact that the ease with which you can get places (presumably to do things) encourages you to always be going places and doing things. I rushed home most nights in 11 minutes just as I had rushed to work that particular morning so that I could meet my co-workers or my students or my friends out, a journey that would also be so fast and simple I don’t much remember it.

Power and the “Good” Feeling

Money is extremely important in today's China

Power is a common theme in Shanghai, whether you’re talking about the formidable economic power the city’s never-ending skyline suggests, or the power dynamic between the Chinese government and its obedient (but not noticeably fearful or repressed) citizens.

If you have a “white” face this power play extends to interpersonal relationships. It is substantially more pronounced if you happen to be male and, even more so, if you happen to be a slim, “handsome” male.

It is just as common to have a complete stranger ask to pose for a picture with you as it is to get your way by raising a finger, rather than throwing a fit like locals are meant to do. People in Shanghai take you more at your word than perhaps any other people in the world, but only because if you are white they assume that you are rich, which is to say they assume that you are good.

This “good” feeling had major professional and personal ramifications. I not only began to get paid writing gigs, first as a blogger for Shanghaiist (sister blog of Gothamist) and later as a contributor to CNNGo, but also found myself constantly re-telling my life story to curious students and, eventually, friends.

Indeed, every local person I met who was close to me in age was desperate to know what my previous life had been like and it felt, for a time, like I was well-liked just for being me. I was awarded every gig and side job to which I applied and if felt, for a time, like I was successful just for trying.

In Shanghai, opportunity looms low in the air like the city’s perpetual pollution haze, but both eventually become suffocating.

The High Cost of Progress

It is easy to feel trapped in Shanghai's massiveness

My first Shanghai apartment was located in the easternmost of the pink towers that stand at the corner of Hengshan and Gao’an Roads in the city’s Xuhui district, a tiny box in the sky I’d chosen mainly for its incredible views of the city. It didn’t end up being much of a home — the lack of heat during the aforementioned Shanghai winter was a main factor — so I typically sought serenity outside the city.

I one time took a bus four hours to Anji, home to the bamboo forest where the movie “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” was filmed. It was indeed peaceful, particularly from a pagoda at the top of the mountain. Unfortunately the city (which city I don’t know) ends just minutes before the entrance to the forest — and remember again that the journey took nearly four hours.

Century Park in Pudong is as lush as green as any park along China’s east coast can be, but it can be difficult to get a breath of air in edgewise among the thousands of other leisure seekers. Did you know that Shanghai has a beach? It does, but you shouldn’t visit: the water is black; the sea foam is brownish-yellow in color; the scene is more Soylent Green more than Beach magazine.

Even thought I loved my second apartment, a comparatively cosy three bedroom in the upmarket Changning district, months of fast-paced, high-stress life in Shanghai had taken their toll on me, as industrious and business-savvy as I had become living there. When the opportunity to leave presented itself (I discussed the circumstances of my departure in more specific detail in a post last week), I jumped almost immediately.

I try to avoid breaking foreign countries’ laws whenever I can. If I find myself on the brink of doing something illegal, I do everything I can to mitigate my risk of getting caught. I didn’t even consider that one could get punished for smoking marijuana in Switzerland when I lit up a joint behind Bundeshaus, an important government building in the Swiss capital of Bern.

If the thought of getting arrested for smoking weed in Switzerland sounds ridiculous, that’s because it is. But whether you laugh at or with me as I narrate, remember: You should never assume you’re going to get away with doing something illegal in even the most liberal foreign countries.

How I Got Caught

It began like any other day in Bern, Switzerland

As you know if you read this blog with any regularity, my best friend Bianca and I usually head to Amsterdam, where smoking marijuana is technically still legal, to get our pot fix in Europe. But we don’t discriminate about location when it comes to our love for the green — we smoke weed everywhere.

Bianca used to work in Bern, Switzerland’s charming capital, and didn’t think anything of smoking behind Bundeshaus, even if it is where Switzerland’s seven presidents do their business. “I literally smoked here every day when I lived here,” she said. She went on to explain that Alex, her ex-boyfriend and a Bern native, had also never heard of anyone being punished for smoking marijuana.

It was a great surprise, then, when two plainclothes police officers approached Bianca and I shortly after we lit our joint. I let Bianca do the German-language talking, in hopes she’d be able to discourage them from taking us in, but it was in vain. To make matters worse, she neglected to tell the officers that we had not just a joint, but an entire bag of weed. We wouldn’t be getting off easy, it seemed.

Arrested and Detained

Who wouldn't want to smoke marijuana in Switzerland?

One factor that caused our punishment to be more, rather than less severe, was the fact that I didn’t have my passport with me. Without a passport, the officers told Bianca, they couldn’t truly be sure where I was or where I came from. They had no choice, it seemed, but to arrest the two of us. Arrested for smoking marijuana in Switzerland, the most liberal country on Earth!

The good news is that when you get arrested in Switzerland, at least for something like this, there are no handcuffs. The local police simply ask you to wait with them before the vehicle arrives, then accompany you to the nondescript station and into the nondescript office, where they interrogate you in the most civilized way you can imagine. There are also no mugshots, which I’ve always assumed would be the best part of getting arrested.

Unfortunately, Bianca and the male officer seemed to disagree over what my punishment should be. Apparently not having your passport is a big deal in Switzerland, so big a deal in fact that the officer wanted to keep me in jail overnight. The female officer was more sympathetic toward me and spoke to me in English as Bianca deliberated with her partner in German. “I have a feeling it will be fine.”

Fine for Marijuana in Switzerland

The punishment for smoking marijuana in Switzerland seems fierce, compared to how liberal the country is

As it turns out, it would quite literally be fine — as in a monetary fine, to the tune of CHF 180 for each of us. As a Swiss citizen, Bianca opted to receive her fine via mail and pay it at a later date, but I had no choice to pay it then. I gave Bianca my ATM card and off she went, returning with my proverbial bail money.

Switzerland is expensive in general, so the fact that it took less than $200 to free me from the grip of the law is actually pretty remarkable, as much as it sucked forking over that money in the first place. Or at least that’s how I tried to rationalize it, until I remember that my having been arrested in Switzerland at was the truly ridiculous thing. Didn’t they grant Roman Polanski asylum?

Indeed, I’ve broken laws in far more authoritarian settings and never been caught. One time in China, for example, an employee at H&M refused to exchange a hat for me. Fed up, I took a new one off the shelf, then reached behind the counter and removed the anti-theft device myself.

Will I Have a Swiss Criminal Record?

Smoking weed thankfully won't get you a Swiss criminal record

I learned first hand that you can be punished for smoking marijuana in Switzerland. Still, you are not likely to get a Swiss criminal record out of it, unless the marijuana offense is second to something more serious. Once you pay whatever fine they assess you, you’re free to go.

Interestingly, the Swiss police came to Bianca’s house on my behalf several times after my departure — we’d listed Bianca’s address as mine when filling out the paperwork. Bianca’s mother turned the police away every time, telling them that no “Herr Schrader” had ever lived there.

The moral of the story here is simple: Don’t assume you’re going to get away with breaking the law, no matter how minor you think the offense is and no matter where in the world you are. Are you going to get imprisoned or deported? In most cases the answer is no, but if you don’t think you can deal with the consequences of getting caught, you shouldn’t break the law in the first place.

As a backpacker, I don’t often get to experience luxury when I travel, so when I was invited to enjoy a morning of pampering at Bangkok’s Devarana Spa, I jumped at the opportunity. “Devarana” translates to “garden in heaven” in the Sanskrit-hybrid language that preceded modern Thai — and this comparison is not made without reason.

To be sure, you’ll pay a pretty penny for most services offered at Devarana Spa, so a visit there still falls into “splurge” territory for most budget travelers, even if prices are cheap by Western standards.

How Devarana Spa Works

Massage oils at Devarana Spa

When you enter into Devarana Spa — I make specific mention of this because entering into the hotel and then the spa is an experience in and of itself — the staff member who greets you will present you with a menu, which lists all the spa’s service offerings.

After confirming your treatment selection, you will be invited to select from among Devarana Spa’s signature massage oils, which are hand-prepared daily and are therapeutic as well as aromatic. With names like “Romantic,” “Balancing,” “Energizing” and “Relaxing,” the oils at Devarana Spa can purportedly treat ailments from insomnia, to anxiety, to poor circulation.

By default, you receive your treatment in an open area where other Devarana Spa guests may be receiving treatments. If you really want to treat yourself, upgrade to a private deluxe or grande suite, which features two massage tables so you can enjoy your Devarana Spa retreat alongside someone dear to you. As of April 2012, these upgrades cost THB 800 and THB 1,500 ($25 and $48), respectively.

Heavenly Nantha Garden Experience

The lotus bath, the first portion of Devarana Spa's Heavenly Natha Garden Experience

You could take your chance and, like backpackers often do, choose the cheapest option on the menu. Or if you really, really feel like splurging, enjoy the signature Devarana Spa treatment like I did.

Dubbed the “Heavenly Nantha Garden Experience,” the incredible treatment costs THB 4,900 ($158) and lasts two-and-a-half hours. It begins with a warm milk bath, complete with pink lotus petals floating on the surface. You can remain in the tub for as long as you want — the masseuses are literally waiting in the hallway for you to finish.

Yes, I said masseuses, as in two. After a brief body scrub, these masseuses guide you through Devarana Spa’s famous 90-minute massage journey, which blends Eastern and Western techniques.

How To Get to Devarana Spa

Every aspect of the Devarana Spa experience is five-star, even the waiting area

Devarana Spa is located in the five-star Dusit Thani hotel in Bangkok’s Silom district, some of the swankiest real estate in one of Bangkok’s overall swankiest areas. Thankfully, while the hotel, the spa, the staff and the service are the most stunning I’ve ever experienced anywhere, nothing about the Devarana Spa experience is pretentious.

I have to admit that I felt a bit uncomfortable there, less because Thais are outwardly judgmental of foreigners (they’re not) and more because I could never afford to come to a place comparable to Devarana Spa in the U.S. or Europe. To be sure, I doubt anyone would say anything if you walked into Devarana Spa hairy and smelling like patchouli, but it would be difficult not to feel self-conscious if you don’t frequently visit luxury spas.

More Information About Devarana Spa

Awards and accolades are in some ways meaningless in Asia, what with how easily and cheaply counterfeit ones can be obtained. As a result, it isn’t terribly important to me that Devarana Spa was named “Best Urban Spa” by Lifestyle + Travel magazine in 2008 and ranked among “Asia’s Best Hotel Spas” at the 2005 Crystal Awards, hosted by Spa Asia magazine. What the hell are the Crystal Awards?

Additionally, my assertion that you should visit Devarana Spa on your next trip to Bangkok comes with the disclaimer that I’m not an authority on spas. But I do urge you to go, once again, if it’s within your budget.

To browse Devarana Spa’s full range of treatments online or to learn more about its concept, visit them at their website. Contact Devarana Spa directly using the information below:

Devarana Spa Co., Ltd.
9th Floor, The Dusit Thani Building
946 Rama IV Toad
Bangkok, 10050 Thailand
+66 (0) 2200-9999
info@devaranaspa.com

Open daily, from 9 a.m.-1o p.m.