Walked & Walked

Where's Andrew?

2010-10-20T17:10:00.001-10:00

Ever since I returned from Antarctica, all my wonderful readers have been demanding to know when I would be heading out again. Well, the time has come. Starting next month, I will be out on the road for National Geographic Traveler, darting from one location to the next, exploring openly and sending back a steady stream of photos, video, tweets, and blog posts for all of you. Find me on Twitter, and stay tuned for more at National Geographic. Thanks for all your support and get ready to have some fun!

Counterintuitive

2010-10-18T15:36:00.001-10:00

I am not a photographer. I am a writer who takes pictures now and then. That said, I find that in this day in age, if you work in media at all--even writing books--publishers and editors keep requesting photos of me, the writer. Over the past year, I've found myself having to take more and more pictures for higher-standard publications--Frankly, I find it all a very daunting challenge but also kind of fun.

Travel photography is tricky stuff and only now am I appreciating the real sense of work that goes on behind it. In an attempt to improve my photo skills, I took a 4-day course with National Geographic Expeditions. The entire experience was rich and educational, not to mention extremely tough and fun. I learned a lot in a very short time and feel an iota more confidence behind the camera then I did before. A lifetime of practice awaits.

Of the few thousand pictures that I shot, I was able to stomach about 10 of the images. Here's one of my favorites--a self portrait snapped in the bathroom/utility closet of a Capitol Hill used bookstore (it looks better bigger, so click on it if you want).

National Geographic Radio Interview

2010-10-01T06:27:00.000-10:00

For the few and far between who actually read this blog. Here's my latest interview w/ National Geographic's wonderful adventurer and wild man Boyd Matson. I talk a bit about my bus trip to Antarctica, then hint at my next project, which will put me out on the road later on this year. Stay tuned to find out more!

Green Land

2010-09-29T04:46:00.005-10:00

September has been a busy month, both for traveling and writing. I saw the dawn of September 1st from the window of a jet somewhere over the North Sea on my way to Copenhagen. I then spent a glorious week in Greenland, which is a country that has fascinated me ever since I could read a map. Finally getting to Greenland was a dream come true--and I also got goose-pimply over the fact that I have crossed both the Arctic and Antarctic circles this year.

Anyway, you can watch/read/listen to all my Greenland coverage over at Gadling, including the following video clips:

That's my attempt at speaking Greenlandic, which is a curious Inuit tongue. I have no idea if this is comprehensible, but I tried. Anyway, this is what traveling in Greenland is like:

I felt very fortunate to visit the village of Tasiusaq, a miniature dot of a settlement on the very southern tip of Greenland. During the hour I was there, the school kids came outside for recess, where they were playing baseball, so I thought:

I also ate whale (!):

And went swimming outdoors:

How I Travel

2010-08-26T05:37:00.004-10:00

The kind folks over at BootsnAll asked me to participate in their "How I Travel" series. You can read the resulting piece HERE. Many thanks to Steve for taking an interest & for all their good questions & for caring enough to ask.

Honestly, I never really considered how I traveled until I got their questionnaire. I could tell you all the ways I don't travel, but not really anything beyond that. Can't say if it's right or wrong, better or worse. How I travel is that I travel, anyway, anyhow.

Undisclosed Location

2010-08-18T11:03:00.003-10:00

This week I'm in another country. Normally I get to talk openly about where I am and what I'm doing, but this time it's different. Like some secret agent, I'm under strict legal obligation NOT to tell people where I'm at. And so I shot this video on the beach, giving all my readers a few clues as to where I am but not getting too specific. After a summer of sitting still it feels great to be out in one of the more exotic corners of the globe. I love re-discovering how much energy I get from traveling and this week is no exception.

Bus2Antarctica Feature Released

2010-08-09T23:01:00.007-10:00

So, exactly one year after I actually pitched my crazy idea to National Geographic Traveler (to take buses from National Geographic headquarters all the way to Antarctica), the magazine has printed my story. If you don't have a subscription, then feel free to can rush out and buy four or five copies from the newsstand. Or you can read it online HERE. Or, you can be among the very first humans to get National Geographic Traveler on the iPad, the first issue of which includes my story with all of its multi-media layers.

I'd like to thank the many hands and minds that went into the final product, including (but not limited to) Janelle Nanos, Marilyn Terrell, Keith Bellows, Scott Stuckey, Jayne Wise, Krista Rossow, Jeannette Kimmel, and Suzanne Hackett. Thanks so much to all of you for helping me take an idea and make it a very real and fun adventure.

Digital Postcard: Punakha Dzong

2010-08-05T23:17:00.005-10:00

I met Beth Whitman at the New York Times Travel Show where we were both on a panel about independent travel. She's a kindred spirit, a fellow guidebook writer, a wonderful wanderer and the founder of Wanderlust & Lipstick--a travel company for women. Beth knows Bhutan very well (so I'm jealous) and she sent me this about one of Bhutan's famous dzongs (the fortress-monasteries in this Buddhist kingdom). Thanks Beth!

Punakha dzong is easily the most beautiful of all the dzongs in Bhutan and has a storied history to boot.

First, you should know that a dzong is a combination of both a fortress and monastery and one is located in every district of the country. Dongs serve several purposes including protection for the region, an administrative seat for the government and they house the local monk body. Annual tsechus (festivals) are held in the courtyard of dzongs and villagers from the entire region walk for hours to attend, dressed in their finest traditional outfits.

Punakha dzong served as the seat of the country’s government up until 1955 (when it moved to the then new capital, Thimphu). Today, it is the winter home to the head abbot (called the Je Khenpo) and houses 600 or so monks. It’s here that the monks study Sanskrit scriptures and perform chants throughout the day.

The interior of the main temple is dominated by a large gilded statue of Buddha, flanked by Guru Rimpoche, Bhutan’s most revered lama who founded Buddhism in Bhutan, and Shabdrung Ngawang Namgyal, who unified the country in the 1630’s. Sitting behind glass and completely filling the side walls are a thousand small Buddha statues. Photography is forbidden in this sacred interior but stories linger and have been passed down through the generations.

One of the most fascinating legends concerns the near invasion of the Tibetan army in 1639. The Bhutanese army guarding the dzong was well outnumbered by the Tibetans – however they were quite clever.

While the Tibetans kept watch over the dzong in preparation for an attack, the Bhutanese marched out of one door of the dzong, walked around the corner and entered a secret entrance in the back, away from the eyes of the spying Tibetans. They then marched themselves out the front door once again. The Tibetans, thinking that they were too few to fight such a large army, fled without invading. This is an excellent example of how Bhutan has managed to stay independent for so long – despite being surrounded by both China and India.

The best time to visit the Punakha Dzong is in early spring when the purple jacaranda trees are in full bloom, the two rivers that merge right next to the dzong are raging and all of the monks are in residence. You might even have a chance to listen to the monks chant if you arrive by mid-morning.

Midsummer Armchair Travels

2010-07-08T04:12:00.002-10:00

It's really, really hot outside. Over a hundred degrees and sweltering, so that the heat hits you in endless waves coming down from the sky and up from the asphalt-smelling street. Unlike most Americans in July, I am not going elsewhere or traveling or "getting away". In fact, I am staying put in my air-conditioned home office because frankly, I like Washington, DC in the summer. It's fairly empty and fun.

That doesn't mean I'm not busy. I'm incredibly busy because I'm trying to (start) writing a book, which is more difficult than most people will ever know. It's excruciating and delightful at the same time. Since writers also have to make money (do we?), I'm still pumping out blog bits left and right. There is no rhyme or reason to these little articles--I just pick a place on the map that means something to me and write about it. Hence the following titles:

Why Luxembourg Matters (Because really, I love Luxembourg!)
Ben Franklin, Traveler (A July 4th nod to my favorite founding father)
Top 10 Reasons to Travel to Canada (For Canada Day!)
How to Pack for a Trip to Antarctica (I was assigned it, so no choice here)
Is Thailand Safe Now? (Because I think it is)

So there. I listed some random blog bits I wrote in the past two weeks. I also flew to the Pacific Northwest for the first time. And I also finally completed my expense accounts for my trip to Antarctica, which involved three months of travel in 17 countries. It was the mother of all expense accounts and I am grateful to Netflix for getting me through the difficult days of gluesticking Guatemalan bus receipts onto construction paper.

Alright, so that's, like, my life right now. Not traveling, just writing, and glad for it. Don't worry though, I'll be back on the road soon enough.

A Fish Tale

2010-06-19T03:08:00.003-10:00

When you travel so much, what kind of pet can you have? Well, I really, really wanna dog. I love dogs, but with my schedule it's just not feasible (or fair to the dog). Loving all animals, I have had about every kind of pet you can have and borrow other peoples' pets when they're away.

Nowadays, I settled on fish and have a big 60 gallon tank filled with white sand. I tried keeping a big, beautiful school of dainty neon tetras, which I love, but alas, they are so dainty that it was very hard keeping them alive. In fact, I ended up just killing a lot of Amazonian fish. Feeling somewhat guilty about this, I finally switched up to a heartier South American fish--a pair of bright orange tiger oscars that I named Diego and Santos, respectively. The tiny fish quickly grew into very large and very aggressive fish (which is what they're supposed to do) and became quite unruly--tapping the glass, splashing and fighting.

Also, Diego became greedier and greedier and grew larger and fatter and stronger than Santos. And then one day, Santos started swimming upside down and then eventually he was just floating upside down. Full-grown oscars are too gigantic to flush, so I had to have poor Santos euthanized (it pays to be married to a fish biologist). It was a mercy killing, given that Diego had already bitten him numerous times and peeled away large amounts of his scales (why, oh why must you be so mean, tiger oscar?)

The next day, Diego finished off the only other living thing in the tank, my 4-year old plecostoma, who I thought was immune given his size (big) and that he had been there first. I nearly cried I was so distraught.
I mean, I understand Diego's nature is to be territorial and aggressive, but the pleco was there first!

And so now I have a very large, single, angry fish who looms mightily in his territory and stares up at me with his fierce jaw every morning. I have changed his name to "Bastard" because it is far more fitting than the more humane and saintly Diego.

Bastard is the perfect pet for someone who travels lots because not only does he not care about me in the slightest, but if he doesn't get fed for a few days, it's not a big deal. He gets his fill when there is food and then makes it last. I still wish I had my itty bitty neon tetras just smiling and glowing in the light, but for now, Bastard will do.

Back from Bermuda

2010-06-14T15:07:00.002-10:00

Still alive and kicking, just kind of swamped in work and stuff . . . "and stuff" including my past two Smithsonian lectures (India & Antarctica), lots of little work tidbits (copywriting, blogging, a few features and some articlettes) and my wedding. Yeah, I got married 10 days ago, so I've been rather occupied.

Hence, my recent trip to Bermuda was neither work-related nor anything-related other than relaxing with my better half. Now I realize all the cliche that surrounds a honeymoon to Bermuda, but there's a reason for that. I mean, I could have and would have gone anywhere in the world on my honeymoon, but I wanted something close (1 hour 45 minute flight from an airport that's a 5-minute cab ride from home, so CHECK), beautiful beaches (CHECK), civilized (CHECK), good diving (CHECK) and low maintenance (CHECK). Too bad it doesn't come in a cheaper package, but regardless of the high cost and cliche and all the rest of it, I have to say, I LOVE Bermuda. So many things are just right there. This was my second trip and will definitely not be my last.

Anyway, the above video clip is the last beach I swam on before reluctantly returning to my busy life in the city. Here's to real vacations--the kind without sightseeing or agendas or waking up too early. Just days and days of endless pink beaches to choose from.

I alway have Paris

2010-05-13T12:13:00.002-10:00

Another month has passed and just how have I been spending it? Working, mainly. Working and recovering from work and then working again. Everyone keeps asking me where I'm going to next and honestly, I don't know.

Then I got this whirlwind assignment to Paris, which I could not say no to (say no to Paris?). Anyway, I had a lovely time, spent 24 hours hitting the streets and roaming about the most lovely urban space on the planet. Then I got stuck, for a LONG time. I dealt with three canceled flights and lots of bad airline inefficiency and all the rest of it--in the end, I coped by going back into the city for a few more hours and sitting in one of my favorite little corner parks in the 14th arrondissement.

So here I am, on a park bench, making excuses and just talking at the camera, explaining to all these imaginary readers how I'm sitting on a park bench in Paris, althought it looks as I could have been filming anywhere.

In the end I made it home, just in time to deliver my big lecture on Antarctica at the Smithsonian. It was a great crowd with lots of friends, old and new. Still, today, the day after, I'm still savoring the aftertaste of my too-short, too-crazy weekend in Paris.

LIVE Online

2010-04-06T09:26:00.003-10:00

How do you even begin to try and capture a 10,000-mile overland journey from your home all the way to Antarctica? It's a baffling task, but I'm going to try and do exactly that next week during a 1-hour LIVE WEBINAR with National Geographic Expeditions on April 12th, 2010 at 8 PM EST. During the webinar, visitors will be able to watch and listen to my presentation live from their own computers at home and even ask questions via chat. I'm looking forward to finally connecting with all my fabulous followers and readers.

You can register for the free event HERE and read more about it at Intelligent Travel. Thanks again to both National Geographic Expeditions and Lindblad Expeditions for arranging this event and for all your wonderful support.

(Photo by Sisse Brimberg & Cotton Coulson/KEENPRESS)

Home

2010-03-21T21:16:00.009-10:00

Home again, home again. I made it.

I'm back from Antarctica and my epic bus journey and the forever road of the Americas: North, Central, and South. It feels great to be home, especially since it's spring now, and it was fall way down there, and somehow I managed to skip all of the snow heavy winter. It took me a day to remember where I was, four days to unpack, and about two weeks to get back to my website. Yeah, that's how slow I am. So now I'm back at my desk and writing away.

It was a grand adventure friends, this throwing myself across the globe and finding penguins at the other end of it all. Everyone keeps asking where I'm headed to next and honestly, I don't know. There are so many options, but for the time being, I'm quite content to sit tight and be in one place for one time.

Bus 2 Antarctica

2010-02-08T02:02:00.003-10:00

For those who don't know, for the last 5 weeks I've been riding buses all the way from my hometown of Washington, DC to the southernmost point I can get to: Antarctica. As of today, I've made it to the southern part of Patagonia and am waiting for my final bus to Ushuaia where I will board the National Geographic Explorer en route to Antarctica.

These two journeys--the 10,000 mile overland jaunt from National Geographic headquarters all the way down to the bottommost point of the America as well as the voyage to Antarctica--both represent dreams come true for me as a traveler. I am still overwhelmed and grateful for the opportunity that I have to do this.

I have not been updating this blog as much during that time as I have been blogging directly for National Geographic Traveler's main blog, Intelligent Travel.

Please follow along on my travels:

Read the entire trip here: Bus2Antarctica

See photos & videos from my trip: National Geographic

Follow what I'm doing RIGHT now on Twitter: @Bus2Antarctica

Thanks & see you all in Antarctica!

Auld Lang Syne

2009-12-29T19:06:00.006-10:00

Another year comes to an end. And what a year:

Began on a cold January day when I took off on a plane, staring down at the empty eternal snowdrifts of Kamchatka, landing in Korea and then on to chaotic, chili-scented Bangkok, then to South America for my television debut in Chile and the overwhelming landscapes of Patagonia (still breathless). Then sleeping horizontal on the seven seats of a spanking new A380 all the way to gold-spattered Dubai, a midnight tour of that constant skyscraping in sand, then across the changing blue waters of the Indian Ocean and dropping down into the blissful Maldives (ah! wonderful). Finding serenity on those beaches, on the complete separateness of that island country, the wet sun there and the world of coral underneath and the shark shadows. On to Wales, land of my fathers, to the high perfect mountains, to the low shores packed with baby lambs and crumbling gray castles and ancient words whispered in even more ancient pubs. A swift run through Londontown, a city of real memories and the true spirit of travel that simmers in every rail station--an obligatory pass through Terminal 5. Back to South America. To Argentina, it's tango, it's chic, and then it's jungle. The red earth and brown rivers, the thundering spray of Iguazu Falls in the moonlight, drowning me upwards. A wet face and crossing into rainy season Brazil, a peak at Paraguay. Midnight in Lima and back to JFK, a regretful second home for me this year. To Vienna, to expensive coffees on the cobblestone square and clean shops and European preciseness, an inconsistent preamble to . . . INDIA. An imagined land of my lifetime became real. The shiny brass, the pink dawn and pink dust and the unbearable heat of a land sucked dry. Tigers in the grass, literally. Elephants and tigers that roared, holy temples with smiling toothless priests. Silk, more dust. Stone of the ages piled into beautiful towers, carved into stories that never die. Vomiting along the road, my head brought low, which is the real point of India after all. Happy go lucky kids, then needing a rest from India until the next time which I pray daily will be soon. India is the infection that never leaves, the constant affair. Texas for the 4th of July. Shooting fireworks in the bayou. A birthday, and then to Iceland, another country that I love that starts with "I". The deep black sand desert interior, the highlands, off road and sinking tires, hot sulphur springs and my brother bundled up in synthetic fabrics. Walking four days across the naked landscape--sun overhead, snow, rock and moss underfoot. Crossing bare streams so cold it disappeared all feeling and crept up to your knees. The exhaustion from a day of walking and the endpoint of more glaciers than stone, impassable grey rivers that roared, ripping white waterfalls. To Canada, the west. Helicopters in the Rockies, scrambling up 10,000 ft. high peaks. Testing my fears and gripping white knuckles to stone without any handles. Seeing sky beneath my feet. To Maine. To simple, quiet, seaside farms, 2-day county fairs with prizewinning blueberry jam, to high and low tides and kind women heavy with life and knowledge of lobster anatomy. Back to Iceland where the skies move too quickly. Beautiful music, rainy streets and a nippy cold dip in the steel ocean, big waves passing over my icicle head. Night after night in Reykjavik, even dancing. Utah, another land of my fathers. High rock mountains once more. Snow-dusted peaks, the end of the summer hinted. Alma mater walkabout, the happiness of family closeby. The Great Salt Lake running out of shades of blue and watching the furrowed deep grooves of a lifeless landscape from the air. Rescued again by family from LAX, a terrible place. A layover-cum-picnic with palm trees and fog, then one more plane and another . . to Tahiti and beyond. French Polynesia unveiled--the old library books became real, my toes dug into the shell-sharp sand. Grass skirts without irony and drums that still beat in my ears. Hitchhiking 'round Moorea, falling in drowsy love with an island I may never see again. To Quebec, the great far north, snowless but dark pine green, to women singing beautiful French carols in a brick church. And back again, then off . . to Tasmania, to the colored facades of Hobart, to a ship that carried me past icebergs and diving penguins to uninhabited islands, and into the fjords of New Zealand. And then New Zealand fully, it's December warmth, it's blue skies and rough beaches and dinosaur-sized tree ferns. Flying back across the Pacific, reviewing and remembering it all, dizzy with the mileage I have covered, filled with joy and gratitude for such a rich year of great travel. Thankful to all my friends out there who've shared with me.

And now two days left until 2010. Another great journey awaits. Happy New Year to all of you who read and thanks for being there.

Farewell to New Zealand

2009-12-27T15:57:00.002-10:00

About to board a flight in Auckland and whirl my way back across an ocean and a continent to home in Washington, DC, after which I'll have exactly three days to get my stuff in order and head off on my great new adventure for 2010: taking the bus to Antarctica. In a way, it's been fitting that New Zealand be the unwitting preamble to my next long haul overland journey. This country is small, green, peaceful, and most conducive to quiet reflection--the calm before the happy storm of travel on which I am about to embark. I really love this place. Driving to the airport, I enjoyed watching all the fern-covered hills, the black and white dairy cows and the impertinent sheep.

How I spent my last day in New Zealand? Out at sea, in the Bay of Plenty, fishing. That night, we barbecued snapper (delicious), piled a pavlova high with fruit and cream, and I relished the last few hours of my December summer before heading back into the snow of the Northern Hemisphere's winter.

I am excited. I have a lot to be excited about. Also a little overwhelmed with the longest to do list in the world and three days to do it in. But it'll all work out. Stay tuned . . .

Official Announcement

2009-12-23T13:03:00.003-10:00

So it's really official. In a week's time I'll be boarding a bus in Washington, DC and heading to Antarctica . . . overland. I've been trying to get to the world's least-known continent forever, and now it's finally happening. I'm thrilled. I'm even more thrilled to be making the journey through all three of the Americas and doing it the hard (fun) way--on a bus! And . . . I'm thrilled most of all to be writing about the whole thing for National Geographic Traveler.

You can read my official first post here at Intelligent Travel. You can also follow me on Twitter where I'll be tweeting away the whole trip on @Bus2Antarctica and sometime next year, there will be an article on paper that you can read.

I leave in a week and as always, am totally unprepared. It's alright, because I have Christmas to celebrate first and a mental checklist a mile long. But the important thing right now is to say THANK YOU to a whole lot of people.

I am so grateful to all the people who've listened to my crazy plan to ride the bus to Antarctica and nodded, smiled, and agreed to help. So, thank you National Geographic Traveler! Thanks to Keith, Marilyn, Janelle, Amy, Stefan, Jeannette, Gio and all the others who are pitching in to make this the best bus trip to Antarctica ever.

You know that feeling when something really exciting is about to happen but not yet, so you have to just sit there and wait except you can't because you have so much to do to get ready? Well, that's how I feel right now.

Magnificent Milford Sound

2009-12-15T11:21:00.002-10:00

Coming to the end of my life at sea for two weeks. We finally made it to the New Zealand 'mainland' (meaning South Island), cleared customs, and then head straight for Fiordlands National Park, which is incidentally the largest single contiguous national park in the world. Amazingly, we had good weather the day we were in Milford Sound. Wow. There is little I can say about this place other than it had me gawking for hours and left me with a sore neck. The cliffs shoot straight up from the see for thousands and thousands of feet--mile high mountains that come straight down to the water. Also, we couldn't anchor because the water was too deep.

I have been blogging at sea this whole time, which is not so easy I discovered, given the rocking ship, satellite internet that comes and goes but I'm not complaining. It's pretty miraculous that one gets to blog at all whilst totally unconnected to anything out in the middle of the Southern Ocean.

So, Milford Sound, according to Trip Advisor, is the most beloved and favorite destination of the entire world. Understanding the slanted democracy of the internet, I'm taking this with a whole pile full of salt, but I will say that having spent a day in the middle of Milford Sound, it's definitely up there wherever 'up there' may be. The natural beauty, sharp mountains, mist rolling in and out, the streaks of waterfalls--all of it was just so overwhelmingly powerful. I'm still trying to decide if we like it because it makes us feel so impossibly small or because it is such a pure view no matter where you look. Not a house, car, or neon sign to be seen. Just rippled water, vertical rock and in my lucky case, a blue, blue sky.

Baby Penguins at Macquarie Island

2009-12-04T08:04:00.003-10:00

You ever have one of those days and you think that you're the luckiest person alive? Well, that was me yesterday, when I spent the entire day on the black sand beach of Australia's Macquarie Island--the southernmost point in that country. Although I was warned of horrific storms, we still had great weather, and I just laid in the sand and watched these baby king penguins for hours. Such melodramatic little creatures! For the next week I'll be exploring some rare and wonderful islands aboard the Orion, an expedition ship that ventures to the lesser-known islands of New Zealand. So far it's been utterly fabulous.

The Southern Ocean

2009-12-02T22:37:00.005-10:00

48 hours after leaving Washington, DC I find myself on a ship headed to the southernmost point in Australia, which is actually a very cold place. On the way, we spotted icebergs like this one--huge blocks of blue and white ice that were beautiful to look at. It's starting to get colder but I'm loving being out at sea and the excitement of all the new islands I'm about to discover.

My Awesome New Backpack

2009-11-27T01:29:00.007-10:00

Uh oh. Product placement! It was bound to happen sooner or later: the corporate world eclipsed the blogosphere long ago, so let's all deal with it. Furthermore, congress and the FCC now want us bloggers to fess up about who pays them to post funny pictures and anecdotes at 3 AM. So this is me coming clean...

Nobody pays me to blog. Not here. This is my own personal site and although I write for half a dozen blogs that do pay me, this one is where I get to say whatever I want however I want (which is the real purpose of a blog). I am still cash poor but travel rich.

However, maybe I have some stuff that I LIKE and I wanna talk about it. Like how I just got a new backpack that is pretty cool (Noobody is paying me to say that either).

I got this backpack for work, since I am now officially a "contributing editor" at National Geographic Traveler and am about to do a lot more contributing and (hopefully) a lot less editing. My new pack is still a newborn--without a crease or knife hole or spilled drink stain on it--just begging to be taken out into the world and fulfill it's purpose of carrying stuff on my back. Which is precisely my intention as I pack it full this afternoon for it's maiden voyage to an undisclosed location on the other side of the world that perhaps rhymes with Zoo Kneeland.

So, specs you ask? Without being tested, the National Geographic Earth Explorer Backpack is loved by me for the following reasons:

1: It's HUGE. I like packing light, but this is gonna fit all my blogging gear without getting bulky.
2: It's not TOO huge. Just like Goldilocks, I find the size just right. (One of my BIG pet peeves are naive backpackers seen clamoring around Europe with backpacks that are large enough to smuggle illegal immigrants in. As if that's not enough, these poor gap year kids where an additional front pack and stagger around like top-heavy zombies, just begging to be tipped.)
3: It's got one million and one pockets. So it's gonna be like having my desk on the road.
4: It has a padded, hidden slot for my laptop.
5: The internal compartments are all detachable, so I can custom build my pack to carry what I want in there.
6: It has a rain cover that bags up the whole thing in one swoop and keeps everything dry.

So, I'm gonna test it out over the Christmas holiday before I actually start using it for my first big work assignment, which is gonna be pretty nifty. If it turns out the backpack sucks then I'll make sure to let you know, although I'm already feeling a little attached to it and wanna just decorate it to death. Or give it a name.

Pit Stop: Québec

2009-11-26T01:01:00.000-10:00

Rampant travelers often get jaded by their journeys--fast. It's an easy phenomenon, for business travelers and backpackers. Spend enough time on the road and it can all start looking and feeling all the same.

Is the antidote to merely stop traveling? No way. The antidote is to keep keeping it interesting. Which is precisely why I agreed to go from sunny Tahiti to frozen northern Québec in a snap. I arrived in Canada bundled up in a coat and scarf, a little tired and a little excited. I like Canada--always have--and have a special affinity for Québec.

Within two hours of arriving, I found myself in the back chapel of a local church, where the local women's choir was practicing a medley of French carols for their upcoming Christmas concert. The voices were heavenly and made me happy to be listening. For me, this is the very best kind of travel--to drop in out of nowhere and immediately discover the place that you are in.

I was in Québec all of two days and now I am home, decompresing and packing for my next big adventure, which is rather BIG.

Hawaiki Nui Va'a

2009-11-23T12:34:00.002-10:00

This month has been full of all things Tahiti. Although I like to think my skills are better in the written form, the world demands video. To that end, from the three or four hours of HD video I shot of the great Hawaiki Nui Va'a outrigger canoe race, I cobbled together this two-minute clip. It's impossible to portray the adrenalin and exhaustion that is evident in this epic, three-day event, but this is my short and sweet version of exactly that. Expect future video as I continue to experiment.

Tahiti Dream

2009-11-16T08:08:00.004-10:00

Just back from Tahiti which was truly a dream. Sometimes sunny, sometimes overcast, always exotic. Friendly, warm, lush and green. I spent the first four days hopping from island to island in pursuit of the world's largest outrigger canoe race. Then I spent two days exploring the islands of Tahiti and Moorea, which are absolutely dissimilar. I enjoyed every minute of it and fell in love with French Polynesia (which I already was). That said, this trip has given me the weirdest jet lag I think I've ever experienced--not falling asleep until 3 or 4 in the morning sleeping in until 10 AM. Not good.

You can read some of my Tahiti coverage over at Gadling where I have started blogging this month. It's a great site related to all things travel staffed by hilarious fellow writers and travelers. I'm also going to be doing some video of the race, so stay tuned.

A big thanks to all the great people in Tahiti who made my voyage interesting and exciting. Mauruuru to you and you and you!

Parlez-Moi de la Polynesie

2009-11-07T17:41:00.005-10:00

I'm in French Polynesia this week, following the great Hawaiki Nui Va'a outrigger canoe race, darting from island to island witnessing the incredible human strength and endurance on display. It's very, very hot, very sunny, and very exciting. It's odd to always dream about some faraway destination--a whole lifetime of dreaming, considering, wondering, longing for, and imagining a place, and then to suddenly find oneself there, in the middle of the bright blue sea and pinching myself to make sure that it's for real. Well, here I am, and it's real and beautiful. As always, I wish I had more time to explore but I am making the most of Tahiti regardless.

Farewell Utah

2009-11-02T12:19:00.003-10:00

Spent the last week in Utah Valley, catching up with some family and visiting my beloved Alma Mater, the BYU. Visiting Utah brings back great memories of childhood summer vacations, college antics and promenades in the great outdoors. It's also a significant piece of my personal geography, so it was good to touch base. I love watching the Wasatch mountains changing from snow to no snow, from green to red to brown to white. It was also a blast visiting my little nieces and nephew.

And so, just as I was getting used to the cool mountain air and random snowstorms, I am off again, this time headed west . . . and fairly far south. Clue: I packed my winter coat at the bottom of my suitcase.

Air Traffic Control

2009-10-26T03:07:00.003-10:00

My weeks of semi-stationary existence are coming to an end and so I spent the weekend printing up electronic tickets and folding laundry. My next month of travel has me bouncing around a fair amount, and so I found this video quite fascinating as it illustrates the daily flow of travel 'energy' that keeps our world turning. I have watched these spinning yellow dots again and again, and I confess that the ones that enchant me the most are the tiny, isolated dots working their way singly across the oceans. Those are the planes I want to be on.

Shots

2009-10-23T03:38:00.004-10:00

Travel's not all post cards 'n roses. Sometimes visiting beautiful exotic places boils down to digestive discomfort and painful red bug bites and vomiting in public. The US State Department's Travel Warnings should always be served with a double dose of Sodium as they are often outdated and ethnocentric (not to mention massive generalizations); however, when it comes to deadly diseases and such, I do like to take my dime store precautions--especially before heading off to new latitudes.

Over the years I've collected a nice little trophy case of vaccinations. Some of these expire from time to time--like car registrations and jars of mayonnaise in the back of the fridge. Others last a lifetime. Anticipating upcoming travels to feverish climes, I got myself three new injections: yellow fever, typhoid, and the generic, vanilla flu shot. I am also begging Santa to give me my very own H1N1 flu vaccine before Christmas but that seems to be this year's Tickle-Me Elmo: outrageously popular and unconvincingly elusive. I shall have to keep sending letters and cookies to the North Pole.

I could bore you with my op ed series on malaria prophylaxis but I'll wait for a slow news month. I think I'm a skeptic at heart but depending on where and when I'm traveling, I will pop those crazy pills.

Thus today I blog with a sore left arm and a touch of self-pity as I contemplate all the things in the jungle that they DON'T make vaccines for. Like jaguars and anachronistic Marxist ideologies.

In Reykjavík

2009-10-18T14:56:00.005-10:00

I arrived in Reykjavík a week ago.

I don't know exactly how many visits it takes for a city to feel familiar. No matter how many times I go to Manhattan, that city feels like an overwhelming surprise. London feels like many long years dodging the rain and coming home late and in England, I am still the consummate outsider. Paris for me is the freedom of being young and the liberty that comes from art--I have big memories in every arrondissement but I still have to check the metro maps to be sure. I wrote a 400-page travel guide to Kiev but I acknowledge that huge swaths of that city remain undiscovered to me.

I have been coming to Iceland's capital now for a decade. My first trip was August 1999 and I arrived on a grey and silent Sunday morning and walked the empty streets alone--an eager American in a Nordic ghost town. Ten years later, I finally tasted the not-silent Saturday night that procedes such Sundays. Thousands upon thousands of made-up fashion teens and basement rockers congregating on wet, dark streets; migrating from club to club, keeping their neon-light vigil 'til dawn. All searching for "it."

That Reykjavík simply means "Smoky Bay" is apt. For the outdoor smokers that blow tobacco clouds up between the red and blue metal houses. For the steam puffs that billow up from the ground and the silver smokestacks of power plants. For the cotton fog that dropped in on a Wednesday morning and only faded away in wisps on this early Sunday morning.

Only when the smoke disappears do you realize that there is a whole land out there--snow-dusted mountains and a panorama of seas, lighthouses, volcanoes. On thoses clear days the city feels new, fresh, and immense asa the sky. On smoky days, Reykjavík is only as big as your stride.

I am here for a music festival. Over two hundred musical acts are strumming, drumming and shouting their sounds out into the cold and we are all here to listen, tap our feet and clap. That these events should take place in a city of fish-filled warehouses and apartment blocks is right. Travelers love sincere places but we are afraid to ruin the moment by pointing them out.

I love this city of Reykjavík. I am not the first traveler to say it, nor feel it. But I add my little voice of admiration to all the rest of them because I like the way this tiny city makes me feel (happy), the way it sounds (like electric guitars and trumpeter swans), and smells (like coffee, clean rain and seaweed). I like coming back again and again and am so glad that I get to.

Autumn Update

2009-10-05T22:24:00.004-10:00

My passport's been taking a break for more than 6 WEEKS (it must be European: next it'll be demanding a 30-hour work week and claiming to be "en grève" right when I need it most), however, that's not to say I'm not keeping rather busy. Writing about travel is one part travel and about ten parts writing, which explains the last 6 weeks. I'm currently cooking on all four burners and enjoying the smells in the kitchen, if you can forgive me that horrible metaphor. My culinary allusion probably has something to do with Gourmet magazine shutting down without ever begging me to write for them. Also, my personal recipe book happens to be an old school folder shoved full of stuff I've clipped out of Gourmet magazine, so we're kind of in crisis mode around here.

Anyway, what I am up to right now:

I am editing a 500 + page manuscript for the 3rd edition of my Ukraine guidebook. Things change wildly fast out on the far eastern fringes of Europe and I'm trying to keep all my good readers abreast and au courant. Heads up to my updater(s) who did such a thorough job scouring the country on my behalf.
The grammar of my fears was published on National Geographic's Intelligent Travel.
I have been nominating my favorite hotels for National Geographic Traveler's TO STAY List for 2010.
I am attacking a feature article about one of my trips this summer (for a magazine that shall remain nameless).
I am planning, researching, and writing not one, not two, but three upcoming talks for the Smithsonian Institution--the first is all about my summer trip to India, the other two are big, big secrets--Stay Tuned in 2010.
I met writer and Chinese-American goddess Amy Tan at National Geographic LIVE's new "Conversation" series. Prayed that she would rub off on me.
I'm still reviewing Washington's most fitting restaurants, clubs, and hotels for Blackbook magazine & attending this week's official opening of the new "W" hotel. But what will I wear?
I'm planning all my travels from now until March 2010 which are not few in number. Hint: there seems to be a lot of Southern Hemisphere happening.
I'm busy window shopping on SkyMall which you can read about here.
I'm spending way too much time on Twitter. Tweet, tweet. I have a lot of cool people following me & I am following a lot of very cool people. Thanks tweetpeeps.

Honestly, I always enjoy a bit of a break from the road while at the same time missing the thrill of it. Thankfully, I will be departing for my dear, dear Iceland in a week for some work and then later in the month headed out to my old college stomping grounds in Utah where I get to go trick-or-treating with my fine nieces and nephew. Can't wait!

Meet Me in Maine

2009-09-18T12:16:00.006-10:00

I am now home from Maine, which proved itself to be a blissful escape from the city and my regular schedule. Thank you to my wonderful friend Karen who lent me her seaside home as a writer's retreat and to all the great people in the town of Brooklin, Maine who took me in and treated me so kindly. Between long stints at my computer, I was able to sneak out for walks in the woods, take short kayak adventures to pine-covered islands and experience the full beauty of Maine's wild seacoast. I left Bangor airport with three live lobsters in my carry-on luggage and a wistful longing to return someday.

The place that Maine occupies in my head has shifted from just another one of the New England states to a very separate, wild, American place that is far enough to be out of mind for most East-coasters. Plus, it has its own very separate culture, language, and cuisine. The tourist appeal is real, but it's still a huge, vastly unpopulated place that is remarkably beautiful and comfortably old-fashioned. Thank you, Maine.

Running Away

2009-09-01T15:02:00.005-10:00

Although it might seem that I'm always on the road, I actually work at home. At my desk or at the kitchen table or sometimes on the couch. Sometimes I get distracted by things like the internet and my hungry pet fish so that it becomes very hard to write serious stuff.

Now that September has swung into center stage, I'm gonna try to be a bit more serious. Which is why I'm disappearing for the next two weeks--from my home, from Washington, DC, and from the internet. Nobody really knows where I am, but it's really beautiful there/here and I'm gonna get tons and tons of good writing done.

Catch ya later-
AE

Climb Every Mountain

2009-08-27T01:41:00.003-10:00

Well-known fact: I'm terrified of heights. Big heights, little heights, all heights. But when you're in British Columbia high up in these gorgeous, ice-capped mountains and someone you've never met before promises that it's TOTALLY safe, then do you conform? If your friends were all jumping off cliffs, would you do it too? Well, actually, that's exactly what I did.

Commuting to the base of the climb by helicopter, I spent the day picking my way up cliffs and over rocky peaks to achieve the summit of Nimbus Tower, a 9,000 foot peak of brown-grey rock in the middle of the Columbian Range. Was it terrifying? Slightly. Luckily, I was so focused on the rock and clipping myself in and out of each new section that I rarely took time to stare outwards into the clear-skied abyss--a drop of some 3,000 feet. After about four hours of climbing, I ended the hike by rapelling off the cliff's edge, dangling to the bottom for a good 150 feet. Folks, this is not something I do. Despite popular belief, I am not an adrenalin junkie. But I did it.

My Awesome Brother

2009-08-21T17:08:00.012-10:00

I dislike unpacking. After a terrific journey, it's kind of sad to empty suitcases and download pictures. It means it's really over and the actual experience has begun the transition into memory. I came back from Iceland two weeks ago, but thanks to my big fancy TV debut and lots of work deadlines, I have only now begun to dust off the black volcanic dust of Iceland's breathtaking interior from my boots and clothes. I have been to Iceland many times, but this time was special because my brother came with me. Together, we hiked the famous Laugavegurinn trail, from the scorched and steamy springs of Landmannalaugar to the green glacier valley of Thórsmörk. The 4-day walk crosses some of the most tremendous landscapes in the heart of Iceland's uninhabited interior. On a single day we passed bubbling mud pots, walked through the sulfur steam of fumaroles, winded through chunky lava fields, trudged across mountainsides of shiny obsidian and tiptoed across immense snowfields. It was a tremendous journey and I recommend it highly to anyone who loves uninterrupted, beautiful spaces. And ice caves.

My brother Nathan--an aspiring filmmaker, musician, fellow adventurer and all-around wunderkind--was a perfect hiking companion. Together we conquered some very high peaks (for me) and left footprints in sand, mud, snow, and moss. I'll be writing the entire journey up a little bit later for a magazine article but until that's done, I will be recommending the hike to any and all who suffer from walking wanderlust. Thanks, Nate!

As Seen on TV

2009-08-11T10:30:00.003-10:00

So I survived my little Travel Channel debut last night without any major trauma or fainting spells. A big thank you to all my fabulous friends who watched with me and showed their support and another thank you to all the great people in Chile who made the show/trip possible. I'll be back!

Confessions of a Travel Writer

2009-08-06T20:34:00.005-10:00

As much as I wanted to keep it a secret, I am going to be on national television this upcoming Monday night. In my eager attempt to infiltrate new trends in media, I participated in a reality TV show that has been daringly dubbed Confessions of a Travel Writer. The show airs on the Travel Channel at 9 PM EST on August 10th, 2009.

I won´t even attempt to script a disclaimer for this one, as I have absolutely no idea what might appear in the final cut. However, let it be known that I had a great time in Chile during the shoot, fell in love with the country, loved the camera crew and had a blast traveling with all the other writers. See you all in TV land.

L'Anse-Saint-Jean

2009-07-25T09:59:00.006-10:00

I am very lucky to be able to scribble blog posts for Intelligent Travel, the blog wing of National Geographic Traveler. Yesterday, they published a bit that I wrote about one of my favorite villages in Quebec: L'Anse-Saint-Jean (you can read it here). I was there at the end of last summer and was touched by what a sleepy, little place it was. The things I remember the most are the architecture--traditional, Quebecois houses showing strong Breton influence--as well as the food--all of it so fresh and local: trout, blueberries, and lots of local cheese. I spent most of my time there walking in the fields, staring out at the Saguenay fjord and enjoying the town, meeting many of the fascinating people who live there. I always love having a moment in a small town--perhaps because I grew up in a small town. Anyway, I don't know if I'll ever make it back to L'Anse-Saint-Jean but I'm glad that I was there for at least two days of my life.

The Future of Travel Writing

2009-07-21T05:54:00.002-10:00

So I've caved in and entered this online contest for a blogging gig to Antarctica. The continent is kind of an obsession for me and thus far, all other attempts have failed. I'm fully aware that this time it's just a big online marketing campaign. I accept that I racking up HUGE Spam Karma by campaigning online, alas here's my first stab at viral video. Watch it and spread it like swine flu.

Andrew's BEST OF 2009

2009-07-17T11:28:00.016-10:00

July is that month when all the travel mags start unrolling their red carpets and donning out prizes. Perhaps summer is a slow news month, perhaps people are in the midst of making plans and payments for vacations present and future. Whatever the case, and despite my repulsion of rating travel and making lists, I am compiling my own--for my own sake and for any out there who may be curious. Contrary to real magazines that claim to have surveyed thousands of customers and applied reliable quantitative methods, my list is 100% personal and subjective. I've compiled my judgments based on my own experiences of the past 12 months; "NEW" denotes new for me. So here's my list (Links included where applicable):

DESTINATIONS

Best New Country: MALDIVES
Best New City: Valparaiso, CHILE
Best Small Town: L'Anse St. Jean, QC, CANADA
Best Island: Grimsey, ICELAND
Best Shopping: Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA
Best Suntan: Kalahari Desert, BOTSWANA
Best New Art Museum: Houston Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, TX, USA
Best Guided Tour: Cardiff Castle, Cardiff, WALES
Best Nightlife: Reykjavik, ICELAND
Best-looking natives: INDIA & ARGENTINA (impossible tie)

TRANSPORTATION

Best Airport: Schiphol Amsterdam, NETHERLANDS
Best US Airline: Continental Airlines, USA
Best International Airline: Emirates, UAE
Best foreign airline: Kingfisher Airlines, INDIA
Best Business Class Lounge: British Airways, Heathrow Terminal 5 (seriously, but I liked it).
Best Business Class Flight: LAN, Santiago, Chile to JFK
Best Railway: SNCF, FRANCE
Best Subway: Kiev Metropolitan, Kiev, UKRAINE
Best Cruise Line: Holland America, NETHERLANDS
Best Car Rental: Hertz, worldwide

HOTELS

Best City Hotel: Fouquet's Barriere, Paris, FRANCE
Best Countryside Hotel: Patagonia Camp, Torres del Paine, CHILE
Best Boutique Hotel: Hotel Nuss, Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA
Best Bed & Breakfast: The Grange, Llangranog, WALES
Best Safari Lodge: Xudum, Okavango Delta, BOTSWANA
Best Design: Le Meridien Bangkok, Bangkok, THAILAND
Best Indoor Swimming Pool: Hotel Remota, Puerto Natales, CHILE
Best Outdoor Swimming Pool: Aman New Delhi, New Delhi, INDIA
Best Hotel Gym: Hyatt Regency, Kiev, UKRAINE

ROOMS

Best Room with a view: The Westcliff, SOUTH AFRICA
Best Bed for sleeping: Taj Palace Hotel, New Delhi, INDIA
Best Pillows: Sofitel, NY, New York, USA
Best Bathrooms: The Westcliff, SOUTH AFRICA
Best interior design/room decor: Pashan Garh, INDIA
Best chocolates left on the pillow: Sofitel, NY, New York, USA

SPA & HEALTH

Best New Spa: The Spa Retreat, Conrad Rangali, MALDIVES
Best New Resort: Aman New Delhi, New Delhi, INDIA
Best Massage Ever: Mizpe Hayamim, Galilee, ISRAEL
Best New Massage: Royal Cliff Beach Resort, THAILAND
Best Spa town: Zrece, SLOVENIA

CUSTOMER SERVICE

Best telephone customer service: ZipCar, USA
Best Hotel Staff: &Beyond, worldwide
Best Waitstaff: CityZen, Washington, DC, USA
Best Wi-Fi: anywhere in DENMARK
Best Border Guards: Canadian Immigration, Trudeau International Airport, Montreal, QC, CANADA

NATURE

Best Beach: Horseshoe Bay, BERMUDA
Best Coastline: Pembrokeshire, WALES
Best Mountains: Andes, Patagonia, CHILE
Best Hiking: Landmannalaugar Nature Reserve, ICELAND
Best Diving: Rangali Reef (Conrad Rangali), MALDIVES
Best Fishing, Odyssey Boreale, QUEBEC
Best New National Park: Parc National des Monts Valin, Saguenay, QUEBEC
Best Wildlife Experience: Chobe-Under-Canvas, BOTSWANA
Best Guides: &Beyond
Best Zoo: Zoo Sauvage de St. Felicien, Saguenay, QUEBEC

FOOD & DINING

Best All Around City for Eating: Bangkok, THAILAND
Best Restaurant Reviewed: CityZen, Washington, DC, USA
Best Local Cuisine: Manolo Caracol, Panama City, PANAMA
Best Italian Food: Centro Vinoteca, NY, New York
Best design for a restaurant: Adour, Washington, DC, USA
Best Airline Food: Korean Air, KOREA
Best Pastry: Ladurée, Paris, FRANCE
Best Doughnuts: Apple House, Front Royal, VA, USA
Best New Cheese: Stori Dimon, ICELAND
Best Cheese: Spenwood, ENGLAND
Best Hamburger: Redwood, Bethesda, MD, USA
Best Steak: Pinnacle Grill, MS Oosterdam, Holland America Cruise Line, MEXICO
Best Seafood: Boat Shed Cafe, Nelson, NEW ZEALAND
Best Chef: Executive Chef at Breeze, Le Bua Hotel, Bangkok, THAILAND

MEDIA & BOOKS

Best Guidebook EVER Used: Rough Guide Morocco
Best New Guidebook Used: Botswana Safari Guide, Chris McIntyre, Bradt Travel Guides
Best New Travel Literature: Irreverent Curiosity, David Farley (Penguin)
Best City Guides: Blackbook (and not just because I write for them)
Best Travel Blog: Intelligent Travel
Best In-Flight Magazine: IN (LAN)
Best travel photos taken by friends: Brian Gratwicke (India); Sasha Vasiljev (Italy)

TRAVEL RECORDS 2009

Longest nonstop flight: Johannesburg, South Africa to Washington, DC, USA (18 hours)
Most expensive manicure: $60
Longest wait for baggage claim: London Heathrow Terminal 4 (1 hour 20 minutes).
Longest layover: Dubai, UAE (8 hours)
Most lost luggage: American Airlines, USA
Closest near death experience: zip-lining, Argentine Military Base, Igauzu, ARGENTINA

Antarctica or BUST!

2009-07-14T10:34:00.005-10:00

I could write a book about all my failed attempts at getting to Antarctica. Let's just say that I've made more attempts than Shackleton. After grant applications, trying to talk myself onto science boats, applying for odd jobs on remote US bases and the like, I'm making an eager attempt to be sent as an official blogger for Quark Expeditions.

The contest is simple: he who gets the most online votes wins. Vote for me here:

VOTE FOR ANDREW

You must register first, which takes a minute. Also, due to the viral nature of this marketing ploy, I invite you to send out and/or repost my entry far and wide. I'm gonna need thousands of votes to win this thing.

Thanks to all of you who helped me kick off this first day of voting. I look forward to making this dream come true in the next two months.

Place of Birth

2009-07-08T02:34:00.005-10:00

I'm from Texas. It's where I was born and where half of my family lives today. I also spent most of my life elsewhere--in Ohio, in Utah, Washington, DC and nearly a decade in Europe. American identities are generally so fluid but something about Texas is different. Perhaps it seems I spend all my time traveling outside America and focusing on the exotic elsewhere, but for me, Texas is always an adventure. This past week I've been home, catching up with family from Houston to Tyler and trying to stay alive in the 103 degree heat. I had some darn good Tex-Mex, counted about 50 barns painted with the Texas flag and enjoyed the still beauty of the green pin oaks. I even saw a longhorn steer in a scrubby suburban field and on the plane home, I sat next to two card-carrying members of the DaRT (Daughters of the Republic of Texas) who invited me to come help them paint the Alamo next month.

Having just finished a big project on Wales and my Welsh heritage, it was nice to go back to the land of my birth certificate and reconnect with a different side of the self. I don't know how qualified I am to be counted as a Texan--being born there, having a driver's license and voting there off and on is probably not enough--but regardless, I do wave the Texas flag alongside all the others that I love and claim it as one of my homes. I like the kind people there, the open space, the mighty sense of frontier in the midst of frightful post-modern sprawl and that cocksure superiority complex thing they have going on. Could I ever live there again? It's too big to say. I've been snowbound in Amarillo and sunburned in Corpus Christi in the same month of the year--I think that's my answer. Still, no matter where I roam, every border guard and hotel receptionist should see those two great letters--TX--and know what it means. Don't mess . . .

CYMRU on the Mall

2009-06-26T06:59:00.003-10:00

Last night, I gave my two-part lecture at the Smithsonian all about WALES and what a lovely country it is. On the way there I stopped for a look at the Smithsonian Folk Life festival that's roaring full tilt on the mall right now. How splendid it was to see all of the red and white tents and hear Welsh being spoken over the loudspeakers--so cool! If you get a chance, head down and check it all out. Thanks again to everyone who helped me out with my trip to Wales in April and everyone at the Smithsonian. I appreciate your wonderful support and interest in my travels! Talking about Wales made me miss it all the more and realize that there are still many corners for me to unravel, so . . .watch out Cymru, "I'll be back."

Bollywood Beauty

2009-06-05T04:38:00.001-10:00

Shuchitra Pellai, Bollywood actress, singer and dancer extraordinaire.

Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright

2009-05-22T21:25:00.002-10:00

Made it to the middle of India--Modhya Pradesh, and whaddya know, I was riding on the back of an elephant and saw this gorgeous adult male tiger. The video's fuzzy, but the tiger was not.

INDIA, Finally

2009-05-20T00:16:00.002-10:00

Writing this from the Vienna airport--a place with lots of deep travel memories stretching back a good 15 years. I am on my way to deepest, darkest (and hottest) India to complete a swirl of assignments.

I've dreamt of visiting India my whole life, and now that it's actually happening, it feels a bit like a dream. I expect the dream-like state to continue for a long time. But still, I am thrilled.

Geographic Dissonance

2009-05-10T11:26:00.004-10:00

Bright May has arrived in Washington, DC and the city is all flowers and people in tank tops smiling. I bought a bike to ride outside in the streets and put away all my mittens and woolly hats. Meanwhile, I am feeling a bit snowed under by several competing deadlines. I'm learning to mentally dart from one place to the next--this week my mind will be focused on Iceland, the Indian Ocean, then South America, then Russia, and ending with Africa. It's an odd feeling to be sitting at my desk, totally entrenched in one place, looking at the saucy stains on my notebooks and remembering what I was thinking and feeling when I was in that one place, and then get up from my desk and return to sunny spring in Washington. Of course, this all leads to a healthy amount of introspective behavior, but isn't that how blogs originated?

So today I am [my mind is] in Russia. Moscow--to be precise; writing a feature and having these little trickles of memories of that place, most of which involve snow and ice and that poetic humdrum of Russian winter. Meanwhile, the American sun is beating down on the right side of my face in a most un-Russian way. I love this picture because it capture so perfectly the matching hue of sky and ground--two stripes of white--a scene I know all to well from the many winters spent in Eurasia.

Live @ the Smithsonian

2009-04-29T03:10:00.002-10:00

Now that I'm back from Wales, it's officially official: on June 25th, I'll be talking for TWO whole hours at the Smithsonian all about gorgeous Wales. I feel honored to have been asked and even more honored to be part of the much larger Smithsonian Folk Life Festival, for which Wales is the featured country this year. Until then, I will be fretting in my attempts to squeeze such a massive little country into two tiny hours and trying to brush up on my scant Welsh.

Iceland in Polish

2009-04-16T10:19:00.002-10:00

My Iceland book was just released in Polish and showed up on my doorstep looking bright and colorful and fantastic. Thanks to National Geographic for doing a superb job, as always. I don't know if there are as many Poles as there were the last time I was there. Foreign language editions of guidebooks are rarely, if never, dedicated, but if I could include a dedication, it would be shared by the Polish motorcyclist who rode his bike from Gdansk to Hofn, via Sweden, Norway, and the Faroe Islands, along with the geography class of middle-schoolers from Warsaw who took the ship with me from Denmark. Dziekuje!

Yr Wyddfa

2009-04-08T04:06:00.006-10:00

Me, atop Mt. Snowden in 45 mph winds, in the rain, and with a temperature of 3 degrees Celsius. I was glad to finally make it to the top of the highest mountain in Wales (1,085 metres--about 3,500 feet, I think). The last time I tried, the path was closed with too much snow. Even more surprising is that after reaching the top, I met a kind Scottish gentleman who granted me access to the new restaurant that will open at the summit this summer. How bizarre to be brought into a clean, warm and dry building after hiking for two hours in the wet, rocky wilderness. What's more, it was equipped with wi-fi, and to prove it, here's a picture of my website being accessed on the summit of Mt. Snowden!

Wrapped Up in Books

2009-04-03T19:15:00.002-10:00

I think every single English-language travel magazine has done a feature or focus piece on Hay-on-Wye. The little village on the English/Welsh border has been discovered to death, but not yet by me, so I made sure to make a wee stop in my grand tour of Wales. Given that Hay is a town that sprawls with 25 (twenty-five!) used book shops, my wee stop turned out to not be so wee at all. Depending on today’s exchange rate, I think I walked away for (just) under a hundred bucks. I present you some of my finds:

Plays of the 1960s, including Billy Liar.
British Boys Annual 1919
Short Stories by Dylan Thomas
A book in Welsh with a pretty Art Nouveau cover
Across the Plains by Robert Louis Stevenson, 1913
The Great White South by Herbert G. Pointing 1921
A guide to dieting from the 1940s ("No Duck!")
The Mabinogion (see below)

Also, about fifty nifty, old-fashioned, vintage post cards, my favorite being a collectors set extolling the charms of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Honestly friends, I think Hay-on-Wye is the most dangerous place on earth--a black hole of endless bookshops that draws you from your path like a band of unkind mermaids lying in wait to drown some poor sailor. You think you're done for the day and headed back to the carpark, but then, "one more bookshop" turns into another hour or so or four. There's no way such a place would be legal in my country.

Hay-on-Wye isn’t that English and it’s not that Welsh. It's somewhere in between, situated quite literally on the miasma of a "border" that everyone keeps referring to but nobody really cares to delineate--at least not since the 1400s. The Welsh have their own type of expressive borders that obviously start with their language and end somewhere on the rugby field. In Hay-on-Wye there is a castle though--a single point in the connect-the-dot border that still remains.

Today the tumbledown castle is a bookshop ("The Castle of Books") and I got the feeling that it's kind of where the whole book theme began for this town. I'm sure it's all on Google, but confession: I am so badly researched on this trip.

Anyway, I was sifting through a dusty pile of old-time photography from some 19th-century Scottish studio when this wonderful old man approached me and struck up a conversation. He commented on each of the books that I had chosen, then offered me a grand discount for the lot. My accent betrays my foreign-ness but when he discovered that I was an Evans, of Welsh descent, he gleamed.

"Ah, then let me give you a free copy of the Mabinogion. It’s a book all about your people!" He led me to the shelf and pointed it out.

And then began his greatest lecture--a tribute to the old and forgotten book, an expose on the new media elite, interspersed with a grand reflection on the phenomenon of Hay-on-Wye. There was just too much to record, but here are a few highlighted quotes:

“You see, the new economy of poverty is the secondhand book. It's what everyone will be trading in soon. We’ve got to discover an economy of poverty—not in currency, but in books!”

"A new book is for the ego, a secondhand book is for the intellect."

“See, it wasn’t the fancy porcelain pots--those were for rich people--it was was the crumpled colored Japanese prints that the pots were wrapped up in that people began reading. THAT'S what started the orientalist movement."

"America is my favorite cocktail!"

"You understand that America sounds like Deutschland to most people's ears."

“The secondhand book is the greatest relic, more than the pyramids."

Scribbling down his wisdom, I asked his full name--to whom may I credit each of these jeweled sentences?

“Put it in Welsh boy!” He shouted, waving his cane in my face, “Brenin y Gelli. That ‘s my name! It means 'King of Hay' because I am a king and I live in this castle." I nodded in agreement.

“Oh bother, if you want my name in English, then you can have it by George," (he really said by George) "It’s “Richard Booth.” He concluded by praising the valor of Midwesterners ("I love their ethnicities!") and his final words to me were a brilliant sum up: "I’m happiest in Nebraska.” It was a strange kind of British ‘I-love-you” farewell.

His mention of Nebraska flooded my pscyche with memories of never-ending road trips, eating cold cereal at concrete reststops and counting the hours to the border, but funnily enough, earlier in the day, in another lovely bookshop down the street, I had bought a collection of 1970s postcards advertising Sunny Nebraska.

(With index finger in the corner of my mouth): hmmmm

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2009-03-30T19:35:00.003-10:00

I left the Maldives today (sigh) and began my aerial hopscotch across the Indian Ocean on my way to London. Here's the airport and plane I started with--my day ended with a Boeing 777 touching down at Heathrow. I think I was the only person in Paddington Station wearing shorts.

The Turtle & Me

2009-03-26T14:48:00.002-10:00

After an arduous day of work in the Maldives, I went for a swim outside my room and found this little guy swimming nonchalantly along the reef.

In Which I Meet the Indian Ocean

2009-03-24T14:21:00.003-10:00

Atlantic, Pacific, Arctic . . .I've swam in all of them. Only the Indian remained and yesterday I finally touched toe to the bath water warmness of this perfect beach in the farthest atoll of the Maldives. The above view happens to belong to me for the next five days. There are no words: "exquisite, paradisaical, beautiful, heavenly" all fall short. I have a week to figure out how to describe this shade of blue. The stresses of my work environment are just too much.

Digital Postcard: Cook Islands

2009-03-22T04:23:00.004-10:00

Friend and travel writer extraordinaire Kristin Luna is in the mangificent Cook Islands, soaking up a bit of paradise. I am touched she spent her limited internet time to shoot me this for the blog:

The great part about being a travel writer is that you get to see places that typically only appear in people's dreams, the stuff you believe only to truly exist in CGI creations and C.S. Lewis anthologies. And you get flown first class to far-flung locales, paid to stay in the poshest of hotels where Kiehl's and Bulgari bath products are as ubiquitous as Starbuck's and McDonald's in first-world countries. The bad part about being a travel writer? Sharing these experiences with thousands--if you're lucky, millions--of others. (And yes, I do understand that's kind of part of the job description.) It's not just that you're unable to do them justice; Hell, I've long since stopped trying to put my adventures into words. I'm only a mediocre writer with mediocre photography skills--it's beyond my realm of capabilities to even begin describing the supernatural aura surrounding Aitutaki, my most recent obsession in the northern Cook Islands (South Pacific for those of you who need a broader geographic scope).

No, I've come to terms with the fact that mere adjectives can't relay the color of the water, blown-out pictures don't capture the snow-white quality of the sand. That's all fine and good, but what's truly at the root of my uneasiness? Sharing hidden gems like this with the rest of the free world. Because once the word is out, nothing can keep the untainted beauty, well, untainted. Throngs of tourists will descend upon the Cook Islands like the army of sugar ants currently attacking the spider carcass dangling from my wall. They will take more than photographs, leave more than footprints. It will no longer be my fantasy writer's retreat, the place where I can (someday) go to finish--er, start--my Great American Novel (or if we're being more honest, chick lit, as seems to be my destiny). At that point, it might as well be Grand Cayman or Paradise Island, only a bit further away and the result of a much pricier plane ticket. So the eternal question remains: What's a travel writer to do? Share a secret like her contract demands, or hold it close to her heart so it's all her own?

(That's not a rhetorical question; I'd really like to know what you think.)

xo from Paradise,
Kristin

Dear Kristin,

What do I think? Well, not to get all philosophical, but its the same question that faced dear Antigone back in ancient Greece: the choice between right and right. I relate to all you say--I wrote a 500 page book about Iceland but it's the places I didn't mention that hold a special place in my heart. In fact, one woman I met insisted I don't include her village--she didn't want anyone showing up for a random visit. On the other hand, if you don't write about a place, someone else will follow behind you. It's the human way. By writing about a place, at least you can put it into the context you want to for others. What if Cortez had focused his narrative on the wonderful cuisine and sturdy textiles of the Aztecs as opposed to their gold and human sacrifice? You know?

Anyway, you've made me want to go there. Thanks for the note!

xo from the airport on my way to Paradise,
Andrew

That Game

2009-03-19T13:17:00.005-10:00

We've all played it. Toss a coin, make a wish, pick a card. Leaving all things to chance we spin the globe, faster and faster. We watch it spin, dizzy from the swirl of colors. Our bangs puff off our foreheads from the fake earth breeze. We close our eyes to let destiny work all by itself. And then, thud. One tiny index finger stops the world. We look closer, where did our finger land us? Where will we go next? What random part of the world have we just touched? What random part of the world will touch us next?

Children play the game and never tire of it. Grown-ups don't grow out of it. Leave a bunch of adults in a room with a globe and eventually, they too will start playing it. For even with all of their stories about all of those places, the surface of the globe is an infinite ouija board of possibility.

I'm playing it right now. And you won't believe where I've just landed . . .

Back from BA

2009-03-15T03:40:00.006-10:00

So I was finally able to experience the wonders of Argentina's capital of Good Airs. It was wonderful being thrust back into the summertime while freezing rain was falling back at home. Equally wonderful was the strange new taste of combination flavors that is Buenos Aires--things that you never thought should go together (straight British roads, curley-cue French architecture, crazed Latin American driving, Italian chic). By no means is my experience a revelation--people have been saying this about BA from the beginning, but now I actually know it and love it--like discovering the strange joy of ham and pineapple pizza.

Despite every Argentine being fashionably skinny, food and drink seemed central to passing hours in this ultimate city. I believe I ate my weight in Dulce de Leche, then repeating the same but with blood red steak. Surely this is a city that deserves a month or two of agenda-free days and nights. I had a grand total of two days but my eyes took in enough art and park scenes for weeks of contemplation. And that is what I am doing now: contemplating how I can sell all my belongings and get a nice 6th or 7th floor apartment with a balcony somewhere in Recoleta and trade in my life's ambitions for the much more daunting task of pretending to be Argentine.

My favorite moment in BA? An hour left before leaving for the airport, walking up the frantic sidewalk of a cobblestone street of roaring traffic, past Parisian magazine kiosks and the charge of Friday afternoon people, stepping into the post office (ring!), taking a number, and watching a giant old clock tick-tocking away. That, and the many alfajores.

Iguazú

2009-03-12T00:26:00.002-10:00

Here's proof that I finally made it to Brazil. Iguassu/Iguazú falls necessitates a multi-perspective approach, hence trips to Brazil and Argentina, then back again during the full moon night. I think that my young brain was corrupted by early 1980s advertising as the entire time I have been at the falls, I have been craving Sprite.

Live at the Smithsonian

2009-03-06T04:05:00.015-10:00

So, my next travel talk will be held at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC on May 16th. The topic? Botswana and why it's such a mind-blowing destination. I'm still editing images and writing the talk, but I can say that it will include lots of zebras, elephants, hippos, crocodiles and the splendid Okavango Delta. You can buy tickets online here or through the Smithsonian Resident Associates (+1.202.633.3030). See you there!

A Breath of Fresh Air

2009-03-05T15:39:00.005-10:00

So, I just listened to the latest interview by gorgeous TV babe Samantha Ettus. Her guest of honor? Peter Greenberg, a quick-tongued and salty journalist who suffers no fools when it comes to the subject of travel. I like. Especially when he says, "What is a tourist? A tourist is a victim." Also, when he takes travel shows to task for being plotted and dull. OK, I'll admit I've never heard of this guy before now, even though I realize that clearly he's a big shot for the industry. I would love to have a conversation with him, as long as he never found out that I write travel guides. To watch the full clip, please click here.

Andrew's Odessa

2009-03-04T07:13:00.002-10:00

My post on Odessa for Intelligent Travel is now live, you can read it here. I do really love the city of Odessa--like none other in the world and truly alive and crazy, the way I like cities to be. I've been there a half-dozen times but someday would love to go and spend a good, long while.

St. David's Day

2009-03-01T16:47:00.002-10:00

Happy March 1st, St. David's Day, wonderful day of Wales and all things Welsh. How did I celebrate? Stayed inside, well out of the snow and ice and thought about leeks, coal, and daffodils. I'm headed to Wales at the end of the month and have enjoyed pouring over several detailed maps planning my journey. I must confess a great pride in being Welsh--well, half-Welsh, probably much less than half, but totally Welsh in name--and am looking forward to exploring new climes back in the fatherland.

Going Back to Rockville

2009-02-20T03:51:00.010-10:00

Yesterday (or maybe it was the day before yesterday) I embarked on a mission that took me to Rockville, Maryland--the sweet, innocent (& historic!) suburb of suburbs of the capital of the United States of America in which I live. I also live on the red line, and Rockville is also on the red line, so public transportation was an option. This year is only six weeks old and I have already been to three continents BUT I have never been to Rockville. I smell adventure.

The metro and my book put me to sleep in Van Ness and I woke up just in time for Rockville. Everything was concrete and painted lanes. I waited and waited at the station for the bus, but it never came. Nobody said hello, and I tried asking directions but nobody wanted to talk to me. So I walked. Two miles through the brown grass suburbs and naked tree parks with DO NOT... signs nailed to wooden posts. Past the Korean Presbyterian Church, the Latvian Lutheran Church, the Episcopalian Church and the First Baptist. I crossed over a sixteen-lane highway on a pedestrian bridge paid for by some Ruhr valley sister city in Germany--a cycle lane lined with overhead chain link guards to keep me from jumping to my death or throwing projectiles at people's windshields.

I wandered; I walked and walked. I accomplished my mission and then covered the miles of lawn and sidewalk and brick shopfronts back to the station, where I climbed on at Rockville and disappeared myself back to DC.

Only then did I have that kind of self-wake up call (Hey!) for the song and lyrics of R.E.M's most appropriate song: Don't Go Back to Rockville. Guitarist Mike Mills wrote it for his girlfriend who actually wanted to move back to Rockville, Maryland and his lyrical depiction of the place is kind of dead on. Also, it's a perfect song for the great American malaise known as the American suburbs because Rockville is the real-life Springfield of the United States. There's at least one Rockville in Maryland, Connecticut, California, Indiana, South Carolina, Utah, AND New Jersey (case closed).

Don't get me wrong, here. It's SO easy to trash the American suburbs--we all love to make fun of them but we all grew up in them. America's suburbs are why we lived to be this age and how we got to have straight teeth and know how to play tennis and swim butterfly and do algebra. What's more, it's America. We can't pretend that America is just purple mountains and the St. Louis arch and the Mojave desert and Pennsylvania Dutch mandalas painted on red barns surrounded by wheat fields. Most of America is cookie-cutter, communal mailbox, "from the lower 200's" subdivisions separated by school district and the asphalt expanses of shopping malls. Mock it not, because it just is. And the rest of the world from Johannesburg to Shanghai is trying their darndest to recreate the ideal we're trying our darndest to disdain.

U2's "The Joshua Tree" was the first cassette tape I ever owned. The second was R.E.M's "Eponymous" which changed my life. Here's the song that's been stuck in my head since Wednesday, filmed way back in 1985 when it was still fresh and edgy and not yet a cult classic, sung by a blonde and boyish Michael Stipe. I probably won't go back to Rockville, but if I do, I'd have this song on repeat.

My Life on the D-List

2009-02-12T12:45:00.006-10:00

Gum-chewing, pissed-off woman with big hair speaking Brooklyneese: "Uh, isn't Rick Steves s'posed to be here?"
Me: "I dunno, I'm sorry. Maybe you could go check . . ."
Bothered woman: "I don't wanna go somewhere and ask--just tell me!" [shouting at me, the disobedient autistic child] "Is Rick Steves gonna be here or what??"
Me: "I think he might be coming later in the day, but I don't know for sure."
Woman: "Well I wish you'd just tell me 'cuz I don't want to go buy one of his books if he ain't comin'." She storms off in a huff.

And THAT, dear readers, was the extent of human interaction during my one hour book-signing at the New York Times Travel Show. Ah, New York! If it wasn't for your pizza, pastry, and publishing industry, would I ever go back? Yeah, OK, I probably would.

But Rick, did you not appreciate the warm and ready plastic seat that was awaiting for you to make greeting your adoring fans a bit more comfortable? Hey, don't mention it. Anytime, bro.

The Breakfast Club

2009-02-09T04:32:00.000-10:00

I'm back from the breathtaking vistas of southern Chile and facing the cold realities of February. Sometimes travel happens so quickly and intensely that one can only reflect on the full experience after the fact. For years I've been desperately trying to trademark the phrase, "it's not where you travel, but who you travel with that matters." (My retirement plan is to sell little cross-stitched pillowcases and appliqued t-shirts with the phrase). For now though, I am left holding a week's worth of rich and bizarre memories--the wilted party favors of an incredible journey with five random travel writers. Allow me to introduce our motley bunch: Charles, Jimmy, Chantal, Shira, and myself. The Breakfast Club's cardboard VHS cover tagline said it best: "They Only Met Once, but it Changed Their Lives Forever." I will surely miss the antics of my fellow voyagers. Also, I am slowly dealing with the realization that I might just be the Anthony Michael Hall of travel writing.

Travels with Shira

2009-02-07T06:23:00.001-10:00

So here it is, folks: my fifteen seconds of fame, over and done like the snap of a toe separator getting yanked from a size 6 foot. Let me introduce you to Shira Lazar (www.shiralazar.com) who the Fates brought into my life somewhere below the 54th parallel of the southern hemisphere. Shira's a TV personality extraordinaire who welcomed me into her sunshine ever so briefly. If I seem like an awkward speechless seventh grader next to the most popular girl in the school, it's because I was having an awkward seventh-grade moment. Yes, we are in Patagonia and that's a condor feather in my pocket.

Icebergs!

2009-02-04T08:51:00.000-10:00

Kayaking on Lago Grey in Torres del Paine National Park, Chile.

Penguin Pal

2009-02-03T14:15:00.002-10:00

Isla Magdalena, Patagonia, Chile--the closest I've ever been to Antarctica. About a hundred thousand Magellanic penguins cooing and calling, scratching in the dirt and cocking their heads from side to side. I was in love and this little guy here was curious enough to jump out and look at me up close. I may forget a lot of the places I've been and the people I've met, but when two animals stare at each other long enough . . and connect, you can't forget that penguin, you know?

Southernmost

2009-02-02T08:29:00.003-10:00

So I just set a new record: my northernmost point on the globe is Grimsey, an itty bitty rocky island north of Iceland at 66° 33′39″ N. Today I flew to to the southernmost bit of South America where it's light all the time and there's ice all around. Something like 53° 10' S which beats my earlier wanderings in New Zealand by nearly 10 degrees. Painfully close to Antarctica but not there yet, alas.

Santiago

2009-01-29T11:11:00.005-10:00

Made it to Chile after so much airport craziness. Went to sleep with shivers from the ice storm in Washington and woke up to the heat from the South American sun through the airplane window. After long lines and taxis and stamps (Latin American governments love stapling stuff into your passport, don't they?), I immediately ditched my things and headed into the city. Saw the Cathedral, ate a real life empanada and checked out the Pre-Columbian art museum, where they had very eerie black mummies. I am most happy to simply be here. I finally made it to South America, even if it is under dubious circumstances (more on that later). I snapped this photo exactly one hour ago--two friends hanging out on a stoop. It's kind of how I feel now: content, unassuming, but a little bit exposed.

¿A Dónde Va Ahora?

2009-01-28T06:58:00.003-10:00

Off to the airport, and heading to . . . Patagonia. The time has come to switch hemispheres. I'm excited on so many levels, not least of which is the fact that Patagonia is kind of the ultimate proving ground for travel writers. All the greats have come and tried to put this on to paper. Stay tuned for more adventures in Chile.

That Doesn't Count!

2009-01-26T00:12:00.012-10:00

As the world becomes smaller and smaller; as airplanes zip us across the globe's dizzying distances; as we keep track of our countries like golf scores or savings account balances; as we compare and contrast our life's maps with others; as places all become more similar and international airports in Africa and China and the Caribbean all use the same floor cleaning fluid and/or German architecture firm, it all reopens the question of where we've actually 'been.' In the very male contest of "I've been to more countries than you" I'm presented with countless variable standards of what counts (spent a night there, got your passport stamped, set foot in the country, ate a meal) and what doesn't count (passed through the airport, saw it from the sky, had a nice dream about it, went there as an incognizant child). Until country counting becomes an Olympic event, I assume the rules and regulations are up for negotiation.

Personally, I reject the whole concept of contest. Counting countries carries very little meaning as it only represents the one-dimensional physical relationship between person and place. I know people who've traveled to over a hundred countries but confuse Guinea, Conakry and French Guyana. Their modus operandi is the travel equivalent of sleeping around--playing passport Cassanova whilst never finding true love.

Wow, listen to me preach and pontificate! Ah, but I know I'm right on this one. I see some fundamental problems with country-counting:

First off is that most of the real country counters are outrageously wealthy men (always men) who turn travel into an unhealthy compulsion of going further, longer, and more remote, thereby reverting the concept of adventure and voyage to its Victorian concentration camp from which we liberated it long ago with the invention of budget airlines. For such, travel becomes a lifelong shopping trip and they win because they can always shop more. Plagiarizing the Sermon on the Mount, "They Have Their Reward."

Secondly, how exactly does one begin to count countries when they are such a man-made construct? Apparently, there are 757 "places" in the world (countries, territories, itty bitty islands, etc.), while the "official authority" on the subject, the (ahem) Travelers' Century Club counts 319 countries with the explanation that "THIS LIST IS RECOGNIZED BY THE WORLD AS THE STANDARD OF COUNTRIES AND DESTINATIONS THAT ARE POLITICALLY, ETHNOLOGICALLY OR GEOGRAPHICALLY DIFFERENT." Oh, really? I didn't see Brooklyn's Flatbush or the 20th Arrondissement of Paris on that list. And by that definition one might say that you can only count countries that don't have the same chain restaurants as your home nation. Borders also pose a tricky counting issue and all kinds of irregularities. My Facebook "Where I've Been" application claims I've covered some 30% of the globe. And yet had I never been to Moscow or St. Petersburg (two cities that you could easily squeeze into Belgium) then the number drops significantly.

Thirdly, what counts as "being in a country"? Consensus is that airtime and airports don't count, and I get it, but still. Last week I flew to and from Asia on Korean Air. All together I spent some 41 hours on a Korean airplane, with about 80% Korean passengers, eating Bibim Bap for breakfast and lunch, watching Korean subtitled-movies, and tracking my journey on the SkyMap in Hangul. I watched from the window as we passed the never-ending gray mountains and rocky Korean coastline. I circled over the city of Seoul for 15 minutes and watched Koreans commuting to work on long bridges. I spent 4 hours in Seoul's Incheon airport and watched Korea outside the gigantic windows. Have I been to Korea? My passport says no, but from now on, whenever I hear the word "Korea", I have a fairly rich well of memory from which to draw (for the record, the very same Travelers' Century Club DOES count airport stops as having been in a place).

My response to all of this is to focus on memories. Don't tell me how many places you've been. Tell me what it was like; what you remember. Every place holds meaning, and some of the worlds most well-traveled people miss that meaning again and again. Even national tourist boards often miss out on the meaning of the very destination they are trying to sell to others.

Ok, I think I'm done preaching, but watch out. I could talk about this forever. Lucky for you, I need to go pack for my next trip.

Bollywood, Interrupted

2009-01-15T06:03:00.005-10:00

Strolling the speedboat-laden shores of the Gulf of Siam I happened upon this happy movie happening. I couldn't believe my stroke of good fortune! With my very own eyes I witnessed the magic of Bollywood in the making (in Thailand, go figure). Not unlike my own experience at show choir dance camp in the 7th grade, this Hindi lip-synching duo went through take after take after take trying to get it together. I think they got better around take thirty-six. By the way, the quality of my filming is just fine--Bollywood actors are grainy in real life and I discovered that they get a little sensitive if one keeps bringing it up.

Buddhist Big Brother

2009-01-11T13:09:00.004-10:00

Blaring Buddhist chants from a loudspeaker at the Temple of the Dawn in Bangkok. Perhaps it was the red star, perhaps it was the fanciful yellow sash meant to decorate away the cold technology--either way, I was simultaneously mesmerized and made uneasy.

English as a Second Language

2009-01-09T13:46:00.006-10:00

In Bangkok and loving every over-the-top minute of it. My attempts to be a bona fide blogger have failed miserably. I am too enchanted to take time to go back to my room and 'blog'. I'd rather just sit on a street in this, the craziest, most harried of Chinatowns and just watch and smell.

I'm well aware of the whole hilarious concept of Thailish and the silliness of Asian translations of our tricky Anglo-Saxon tongue. I've always thought it a little mean-spirited to point such things out, until I actually came here and got to experience such unintentional poetry for myself, e.g.:

+ "We want to welcome guests, so we spray our lobby to smell like Frankenstein" (translation: Frankincense)

+ "I hate Sky Crappers" (Said to me while staring out at the dazzling night skyline, and yet, what a perfect word!)

Of course, in my atonal attempts to count from one to ten in Thai, I sound all kinds of hilarious and inappropriate. Everyone smiles and praises, "You know Thai so well, good for you." But then you meet someone honest who points out that you didn't just say "Four" but that you said "scrub" and that when you try to pronounce "Nine", you are actually saying something a little bit naughty.

So, how about we all laugh at one another and call it a day?

Like I Said . . .

2009-01-06T03:00:00.005-10:00

Unexpectedly, for the next 25 hours of so I will be en route to Thailand, that forever flowering lotus of a country in southeast Asia. Maybe this once, I shall attempt to be a traditional blogger-type blogger and actually post loads of deep, meaningful thoughts while I'm on the road. So daring, so edgy. This will be my first of many firsts, including taking a direct flight to Asia from special, local Washington Dulles airport and the first time actually leaving Bangkok airport once I get there. I suspect there exists some single-word German-language psychological terminology equivalent to "the shock of traveling to Bangkok for the first time" but I have yet to be diagnosed.

Oh, the Places We'll Go

2009-01-03T04:58:00.006-10:00

A new year is here. For me, the new year did not come in with a bang. I spent most of it in bed with a sore throat, a cup of hot ginger tea and some long-winded Icelandic sagas, which are great books because they keep going on forever. Now everyone is asking me where I'm going this year and the answer is I do not know. I never really know in advance. I plot trips in my head all the time and then they don't happen but then other ones unexpectedly DO happen. On New Year's Day I spent three hours with my trusty atlas, scanning borders and roads, place names and islands. Will any of us see any of these things in our lifetimes? Probably not, but there is no harm in trying.

Happy Old Year

2008-12-31T00:11:00.008-10:00

The new year has crept up on me with little notice or regard for my schedule. I don't know if I'm ready for 2008 to be over. It's been a rather good year, taken me to some good places, surrounded me with good people. I've been to Mexico and Paris, Jerusalem and the Kalahari Desert, to the French-speaking Arctic and Panamanian rain forest -- all good adventures. I've met a bunch of very cool travel writers and got to visit a good deal of family. And I've published, which is all we can ever ask for. I will spend the last day of anno domini 2008 writing about food and getting over a sore throat. BUT, last night I rode the subway all the way out to the Virginia hinterlands and watched a grand Bollywood musical epic that left me with twinkling eyes and a beating heart. I must remember that the most exotic things are often so closeby.

My hopes and best wishes to all of you out there.

Forgotten Hero/Anti-Hero

2008-12-22T22:50:00.005-10:00

My current bedtime stories of choice is the riveting biography, "The Adventures of Kimball Bent", published in 1911 by James Cowan. The story is that of one man Kimball, born in Maine, ran away to England, pressed into the British army, deserted, captured and repressed into the British army, sent to India, sent to New Zealand, again deserted, then a lifetime spent living among the Maori of Taranaki. Fascinating. My mother-in-law in New Zealand gave me the book as a Christmas present a few years back to provide some context for my travels in Taranaki. (My book pile is a few years long).

What I gather is that this man was not an 'adventurer' per se, or even a 'traveler', but that he traveled across the globe and ended up living with the Maori simply to survive. He's quite a controversial historical figure--some people count him as a traitor, others a coward, etc. etc., but his story is entirely unique and despite grotesque attention to the intricacies of warfare and cannibalism, his life and story capture a time and a place in the world that would have otherwise been falsely historicized neatly on some library shelf. Here's a brief nod to the man by Wikipedia.

So yeah, at night, right before I go to sleep, I'm at the base of a volcano on North Island, circa 1867.

All Your Wildest Dreams Will Come True

2008-12-16T00:23:00.004-10:00

Just got confirmation that I will be speaking at the New York Times Travel Show on Sunday, February 8 at 11:00 in the morning. I shall be the voice of unreason on a panel entitled, "Make Your Wild Travel Dreams a Reality". Perhaps I should just put it out there that not all my wildest travel dreams are ever a reality, yet. I still haven't snowshoed in Antarctica or watched the sun set on a beach in Yemen or even been to New Hampshire but I guess the important thing is to always keep trying. This year's NYT Travel Show will include for the first time ever a country booth dedicated to Ukraine (!). I've also got a few book signings scheduled throughout the two days of the show. See you there.

In Which I Talk on Television

2008-12-12T00:29:00.001-10:00

Look at me, I am on TeeVee.

There's No Place Like Home

2008-12-04T04:44:00.002-10:00

Thanks to protesters in far away airports and the general global chaos of the moment, I'll be staying in this December. Normally I would protest right back, you know, you have to fight for your right to travel, but frankly I'm afraid of anyone who willingly sleeps at the airport for a whole week. Once upon a December I spent 36 hours in a freezing Moscow airport, a single shivering body in a huddled mass of unpapered Indians stranded on their way to Bangalore. Never again. Until further notice, you can find me in not-that-snowy-just-yet Washington, DC. Me and my laptop and a cup of hot chocolate. Working on a bunch of projects, the main one being Christmas. Also, a bundle of restaurant reviews for Blackbook. Tasting menus are kind of a consolation for not crossing the Pacific.

The Trip That Got Away

2008-11-25T21:10:00.004-10:00

For every wonderful trip filled with memories, there's another voyage that never happened. Sigh. The trips we planned on, hoped for, gunned for, and then missed out on. I was trying so hard to be the fourth member of the team to Antarctica for this, the Shackleton Centenary Expedition. The team of spritely Brits is following in the footsteps, or rather ski tracks, of the doomed Antarctic explorer. I believe that I was disqualified for having an American passport or maybe for just having an American accent. Now, just to rub it in, the expedition sends me an e-mailed daily update telling all about what a fabulous time they're all having down in Antarctica. Wish you were here. Also, the post script asks if I might spare an extra 100 pounds right now to help defray the cost of the trip and all. So they ask me to apply to come along, then tell me thanks but no thanks, then send me daily post cards asking me for money to pay for their trip. It's kind of painful and maybe I'm kind of bitter. Antarctica is at the top of my list. Other pet peeves include people who refer to Antarctica as An-Artika, or worse yet, the "ARTIK".

Perhaps Shackleton himself felt the same way. So close to reaching his goal, and yet never made it, alas. 100 years later, we're celebrating his trip that got away. To all you cold, miserable souls on the ice down south, living the dream, with your satellite internet and such. Happy Thanksgiving!

Everyone in Zambia Hates Me

2008-11-17T05:21:00.004-10:00

I walked to Zambia from Botswana (with the aid of a small ferry). I had spent all week in the bush and so it was kind of exciting for me to see people again. Alas, right after I took this snap, I incited a small riot of bitter, angry Zambian women. They demanded I give them money for their picture. Oops, I think I just fell right into the great debate of tourism--the objectification of foreigners, "poorism", and exploitation, etc. But you know, all I wanted was to take a picture.

In fairness, while I was a grad student at Oxford, busloads of Russian and Japanese tourists used to stop and take pictures of me, especially when I was dressed in sub-fusc. My only consolation is the thought of hundreds of pictures of me in the family photo albums of Osaka.

New York Field Trip

2008-11-10T12:39:00.006-10:00

Back from a whirlwind of meetings in Manhattan, most of which were productive, interesting & compelling. And yet all that matters in New York are the senses, n'est-ce pas? So, before I forget, a roundup of favorite discoveries from my latest field trip:

Macaron Cafe /161 West 36th Street/ A wee shop the size of a bathroom stall but chock-a-block with les vrais macarons francais. Like a little untrampled pink flower in the midst of hyper-choked midtown. Incroyable.

Kunjip Restaurant /9 West 32nd Street/Just another glassfront restaurant in Koreatown but with impossible waits, insane crowds, compassionate waitstaff and perfect bowls of food. I dissected an entire mackerel with chopsticks.

Craft /43 East 19th Street/A+ for design, A for foie gras appetizers, extra credit for the memorable risotto. Righteous brussel sprouts with bacon, yessss.

Centro Vinoteca /74 Seventh Ave. South /West Village Italian restaurant with white-painted brick walls. Creamy polenta squares with fontina. Warm duck salad, amen.

Back from Botswana

2008-11-05T08:44:00.002-10:00

Shot this croc in Chobe National Park, me in a boat, safely on the Botswana side, this lovely lizard smiling sheepishly on the shores of Namibia. My African adventure was incredible--I am still reeling from the animals and sunsets.

Off to Africa

2008-10-24T04:45:00.003-10:00

The best trips are the spontaneous ones. No planning at all--just pick up and go. And like that, I'm off to the Okavango Delta of beautiful Botswana in about . . . well, right now. I think it was all meant to be since I recently met the former president of Botswana, the Travel Channel just released their one hour special on the country AND I live two blocks from the Embassy of Botswana. Lions, warthogs, and lilac-breasted rollers, oh my!

My Big Fat Shiny Silver Medal

2008-10-19T07:33:00.005-10:00

I always love a good rumor, especially when it's about me. Imagine my excitement yesterday when a travel writer friend shot me an email congratulating me on my recent Lowell Thomas Award. I was like, really? So I checked it on their site and sure enough, it seems that I won the Lowell Thomas for my latest book, Iceland.

Now wait a minute, there. I didn't WIN win. I won SILVER, which if I am not mistaken, means I am not the greatest guidebook author in the universe, but only the second best guidebook writer in the universe . . until next year. But that's okay, because I love silver. In fact, I prefer wearing silver to gold, and it makes me feel just like the United States women's gymnastics team.

Here are the judges' nice comments about my book:

Full of fascinating details in writing, graphics and photos, “Iceland” delves deeply into the country in a format that often resists depth. Evans knows the country, and it shows. But he also organizes the essential information in an easy-to-use way. It’s the combination of depth and breadth that sets this guidebook apart from many others. Evans takes his subject seriously and invites the reader into the experience of Iceland with wit and authority.

"Depth and breadth . . . wit and authority." Oh, I'm so flattered and I have way too many people to thank: Dr. Brian Gratwicke (my trusty sidekick and the photographer whose images made the book pretty), my awesome contributors, especially Gudni Johannesson and Eliza Reid (who fact checked and wrote interesting text boxes), Nick Gilroy, and Dennis Riege. My awesome editor Anna Moores, who was extremely patient and full of good ideas, not to mention smart, meticulous, and respectful of all my little primadonna moments. Thanks to Adrian Phillips, Tricia Hayne, Donald Greig, and the rest of the team at Bradt Travel Guides in England. The biggest thanks of all goes to Hilary Bradt who gave me a shot at writing a book. Thank you, Hilary.

To Iceland and the Icelanders, I can't say Takk enough. Thanks to Einar Gustavsson for his interest and longstanding support of my book project, to Magnus Gustavsson for his genuine kindness and promotion of the book, and to Ambassador Albert Jonsson for his personal support. I am indebted to way too many Icelanders to squeeze into a blog post, but please know how grateful I am to all of your contributions big and small.

Getting a Lowell Thomas means a lot to me, so a huge thanks to the Society of American Travel Writers. It's really nice to be recognized for a book that took a whole year to research and write.

So what will I spend my prize money on? A ticket, to somewhere.

Isolation

2008-10-15T07:10:00.003-10:00

It was my very first cruise. Ever. To Mexico, on Holland America. Yes, I loved it--I mean, I loved traveling by boat, being at sea, and coasting down the Baja coast. And I love Mexico. I don't know if I liked going on vacation with 2,800 other people. There are some disadvantages with a bunch that size.

Like so many travelers to Mexico before me, I picked up a souvenir case of Montezuma's Revenge (the Shrimp Ceviche sounded too authentic to miss). Then I made the mistake of going down to see the ship's doctor, who, in lieu of administering me any medicine, put me in quarantine for 24 hours. Aha! There's no vacation like quarantine, especially when you're paying for it. I tried to make the most of it, watching old movies, ordering room service every 20 minutes and trying to establish the ultimate Love in a Time of Cholera moment. Alas, sitting in your bed on a cruise ship with the sunny Pacific Ocean outside, well it kind of really sucks.

Oh, I understand the whole principle of keeping me away from the rest of the merry cruisegoers, but, but, but . . . . I spent a day of my tropical vacation in isolation! Alright, I'll get over it. OK, inhale, I think I'm over it. No hard feelings Holland America. I love your ship and your perky crew and your all day ice cream stand! You know, I might even go on another cruise with you some day. Next time though, don't expect me to tell you about my funny tummy.

Bridge To Nowhere

2008-10-01T00:12:00.004-10:00

National Geographic Traveler published my bit about trying to walk across the Bridge of the Americas in Panama. You can read it here. Quite tragic that any place becomes popular for suicide attempts, but it's happened all over the world--at the Golden Gate Bridge and the Hampshire Downs in England. The point of my piece was to promote safe intercontinental passage on foot. Alas, our world is not safe.

Cajun Fever

2008-09-26T08:08:00.008-10:00

Just back from Texas and the post-storm calm that followed Hurricane Ike. Thank goodness, my family's fine. It was kind of fun to live without power for a few days and great to fly into an empty airport. During the week I visited my 96 year old grandfather and met one of his elderly neighbors from just outside Lafayette, Louisiana. A 100% authentic Cajun girl (maiden name Thibodeaux), she told me all kinds of great stories about the little villages in the back bayous of Cajun country. She also spoke in Cajun to me and sang me a refrain from the song Jolie Blonde. It was a wonderful little coda to my recent trip to Quebec and my growing interest in all things French-American.

I am now in search of more examples of recorded Cajun French (spoken, not sung). I recently found this clip from the 1948 movie, "Louisiana Story" in which a father tells his young son that he's "trop canaille" (too much of a scoundrel) before handing him his very first shotgun. Now I just gotta see this movie.

Going to Ukraine (in my mind)

2008-09-12T06:34:00.002-10:00

Attended a reception for Ukraine's independence day at the embassy in Georgetown. Two weeks late (August 24th is the official day) and with lots of added tension. Let's just say that if there was elephant in the room (and there was), it was speaking Russian. I went for the Ukrainian music and of course, the varenniki--fabulous potato-filled dumplings. I love embassies in Washington because the minute you step inside, it's like being in that country. So on Wednesday night, for about one hour, I was in Ukraine. Made me miss it really. I truly do wish I was there.

Two days later I attended a fantastic music and image presentation on the Crimean Tatars. Both the researcher and photographer used my book while traveling around Crimea this past summer, so I was flattered. Overall, a really quality project that really captured the essence of the place and the plight of the people. You can check out some of their fantastic pictures here: www.alisoncartwright.com. [Photo Credit: Alison Cartwright].

(an actual) POST CARD: Tblisi, Georgia

2008-09-04T11:12:00.005-10:00

This post card showed up in the mail last week from my friend Alex. He's been working in Tblisi all summer, a city that's at the top of my "need to get there soon" list. The card talks of a "beautiful street cafe" and women selling vegetables. It arrived with Turkish stamps, so I'm guessing Alex is no longer in Georgia. At least, that's my hope. I'm pretty devastated by the whole, ugly situation and look forward to a better day for that country. We have enough wars right now and I would hate to be banned from yet another post-Soviet country. For the record, it's my dream to open a Georgian restaurant in Washington, DC someday. You know, dream big.

New Flag

2008-08-17T23:27:00.004-10:00

Back from the beautiful land of northern Quebec. Spent most of my time in the Saguenay (Sa-GUH-nay) region and the far away reaches of the province, marked by a stunning fjord by the same name. In my wanderings I discovered their regional flag, which takes a classic Danneborg design but in yellow, green, silver, and red. I was amazed that somewhere so close (two hour flight) can be so terrifically exotic and different. Sad to leave, but back in DC and busy writing for Blackbook.

What Canada Feels Like

2008-08-12T23:55:00.003-10:00

Wild, Wonderful North America

2008-08-03T00:32:00.002-10:00

Last week I was out on Gatun Lake in the Panama Canal Zone. Not only did signs warn me of crocodiles, but I saw them; terrifically HUGE crocodiles. Today, I'm flying off to the other end of our fine continent, to the far northern regions of Quebec. Looking forward to cooling off, but also glad to be taking in the breadth of my home continent.

Why I Love to Travel

2008-07-24T23:28:00.004-10:00

Remind me never to fly through Dallas Forth Worth (DFW) ever again. Or on American Airlines. On the bright side, watching lightning from above the clouds is very cool. Then your plane runs out of gas circling and you have to land at another airport and take a one hour taxi ride home and you wait all day for your luggage to arrive but it never does even though you keep calling and getting put on hold so you give up and spend two hours going back to a different airport and find your luggage sitting in the wide open for anyone to take and it's been there for a night and a day. Oh, and your wet swim suit that smells like the Panama Canal has soaked the rest of your clothes and books.

¿Donde?

2008-07-20T05:59:00.007-10:00

So, I'm in Panama. In case anybody was wondering. Finished my talk on Washington, DC, rushed home, packed, slept for three hours and then was on a plane down south. I'm at 9 degrees north, which is pretty far south. And loving being at the canal betwixt two great oceans and two great continents. Spent all day yesterday catching poison dart frogs with my bare hands. I was told it's not a problem, but then somebody told me not to touch my face afterwards. Hmmm.

Insider's Washington, DC

2008-07-14T04:32:00.002-10:00

Today's Bastille Day, and though I'm celebrating appropriately with good French food I'm also getting ready for tomorrow's presentation at the Smithsonian. Today's Washington Post Express published a recent interview about the talk, which you can read here.

Druk Yul Y'all

2008-07-07T01:56:00.002-10:00

What better way to celebrate America's anniversary than to put Texas and Bhutan side by side on the National Mall? An impromptu research visit to the top of the Washington Monument landed me in this colorful display of Bhutanese dancers, reawakening a lifelong ambition to visit the place. Right next door was the Texas pavilion, so of course I felt right at home. Alas, the Smithsonian Folklife Festival is officially over for this year, but I count it as one of the many reasons I love living in Washington, DC.