Matador Network's Blog, page 2139
February 9, 2015
If Americans lived like Swedes
Does the average Swede live a better, more comfortable life an upper-class American? No doubt.
This is what The Swedish Part Model (a collaboration between trade unions and employers) is demonstrating with a good dose of humour in this video. The purpose is not to make other nations realize how bad they have it (even though it’s pretty obvious), but to make the Swedes appreciate how well their social model funcions and how hard their unions work at it.
Six-month paternity leave? Personal trainer paid for by your work allowance as a preventive healcare measure? Six weeks of holidays per year? If “like a swede” was a real trend, I wish it would overtake the world. 
Habits I lost moving to Australia
Photo: W3155Y
1. Using a clothes dryer
Yes, it helps that it’s pretty much sunny and hot every day in Australia’s Gold Coast, but rarely did I use a dryer for my clothes while living there. We hung our clothes out to dry on these convenient foldaway clothes hangers instead. The few times it did rain, we would simply move them indoors to dry. In America, I can count on one hand the number of times I hung my clothes to dry outside in the summer versus tossing them in the dryer.
2. Drinking bottled water
Really, what is the point? If you live in a developed country with clean drinking water, why are we too good to drink from the tap? It saves money and the environment. I and many of my Australian friends kept a large jug of tap water in our refrigerators. As an environmentally conscious country, it made sense to take advantage of the fact that you live in a place with clean drinking water and to carry your own, reusable water bottle with you.
3. Disregarding loose change
Oh, do the coins add up in Australia. Since $5 is the smallest paper bill, your loose change is overwhelmingly $1 and $2 dollar coins. That pile of little golden nuggets adds up to a case of beer in just a few short weeks of saving. In the States, we literally throw pennies away because they are worth so little. (Side note — why do we still have pennies? Every price in Australia was rounded, thus eliminating pennies.)
More like this 10 Signs you learned to drink in Australia
4. Never carrying cash
I can’t think of one place outside of the occasional mom-and-pop stores that don’t accept credit or debit cards in the States. I never carried cash in America. In Australia, many places were cash-only, or would have a $10 minimum on credit or debit. At the pub, it was more troublesome for bartenders to run a card versus take cash and move on to the next customer. Although inconvenient if you want to make a quick purchase and have no cash on you, you form a habit of always stopping by the ATM before $3 beers on Sundays at Waxy’s Irish Pub. This is where I used the majority of my coins.
5. Splitting bills at restaurants
Not an option. You will simply be told no. If you need to figure out who spent how much on what meal, then it’s on your time, not the server’s. They aren’t working for tips (see #6), so don’t expect them to spend time organizing your bill for you. When I went out to dinner with a big group of friends to celebrate a birthday, the expectation was to bring cash to cover your portion of the bill.
6. Working for tips
I know this had been reiterated to Americans hundreds of times, but tipping isn’t standard or expected in Australia. As a waitress, this changed a lot of habits for me. In the States, customers expect you to anticipate their every need, and for the most part, kiss their ass. I quickly discovered working in a restaurant in Surfers Paradise that customers don’t want you constantly checking on them and topping off their drinks — they get quite annoyed. You aren’t an important part of their dining experience so unless they’re asking for something, leave them alone.
7. Ordering sugary and complicated cocktails or shots
Americans always want their Girl Scout Cookies, Sex on the Beach, Buttery Nipples, Vegas Bombs, and all the other ridiculously fruity and sugary shots and cocktails to cover up the taste of alcohol. But once again, bartenders aren’t working for your tip — so don’t waste their time on a complicated shot at a busy bar when they have 15 other drunk people waiting to be served a beer. Order a cranberry vodka and call it a day. Australians spend such little time mixing drinks that they actually sell pre-bottled Jack Daniels and cokes called “stubbies.”
8. Getting frustrated with customers with heavy accents
Americans consider it inconvenient when someone doesn’t speak decent English very well in customer service situations. In Australia, if I were to voice my annoyance about struggling to understand a patron with a heavy accent, it was considered rude and judgmental. I quickly learned to listen better and try to help in any way I could instead of giving attitude.
9. Expecting free and unlimited Wi-Fi
It is not normal in other countries to have free and unlimited Wi-Fi all the time, even in your own home. It requires a data package just like a cell phone plan — so cut back that phone (and Netflix!) time. Starbucks is one of my favorite places to order a coffee, hunker down, and spend hours blogging and reflecting; however, I soon learned that in order to connect to their Wi-Fi, you had to order a drink and receive a passcode on your receipt – that had a 30-minute time limit. Want 30 more minutes? Order another drink.
10. Expecting the air conditioning on full blast at all times
It’s hot in Australia. But that doesn’t mean the air-con is on. Restaurants, malls, offices, and hotels adjusted temperatures so they were comfortable, not cold. Our apartment had one small air conditioning unit we used only on the really hot days — as in topping 100-degrees Fahrenheit. You learn to live in the heat.
11. Freaking out about cockroaches
It’s gross, I know, but cockroaches are part of everyday life in Australia. It’s a common part of your side work i a restaurant to check for cockroaches under the salt and pepper shakers. They’re EVERYWHERE.
12. Brewing fresh coffee in the morning
Unless you have a fancy espresso machine that steams milk for your lattes, bring on the freeze-dried coffee. This was in every house and every apartment I visited in Australia. Boil some water, mix in the freeze-dried coffee grounds with a spoon, and — boom! — instant coffee.
13. Expecting a staggering variety of fast-food restaurants
Have a brutal hangover and craving fast food? Grab some McDonald’s, Burger King, or KFC. Those are pretty much your only fast-food choices in Australia. Because there is less fast food, the majority of restaurants are serving healthier and higher quality food, so it isn’t cheaper to eat out versus cooking at home. Quick, cheap, and easy becomes throwing something together in your kitchen, not passing a drive through.
14. Thinking the rest of the world cares about the NFL and religiously watching games
The New England Patriots are the 2015 World Champions! Yet nobody else in the world really cares. Yes, there are one or two games played in London, but the NFL is an American thing. In fact, Australians consider it a pretty weak sport compared to rugby, where they forego the padding and helmets.
15. Looking left when crossing the street
I’m telling you, this is the hardest habit to break. You don’t even realize you do it until you go to cross the street and almost get nailed by a car to your right. For the most part I ended up looking in every direction about three times before crossing the street just to make sure. It scares the crap out of you at first and you feel like an idiot.
13 things your Mexican grandma says
Photo: Rantes Aguirre
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1. Your grandma says “¡Ave María Purísima!”
Literal translation: “Hail purest Mary!”
To express surprise or shock about something. She’ll pick a main character for this expression from the whole Catholic saint dynasty, according to her personal preferences and the intensity of the surprise. She’ll usually cross herself during the exclamation to add a touch of drama. Youngsters have substituted this expression with the more profane “Ay güey!”…and they no longer cross themselves.
2. Your grandma says “Viejas argüenderas”
Literal translation: “Those old gossipers”
To refer to that group of friends with whom she gathers for gossiping purposes. Of course, her participation in such necessities is merely circumstantial…she is just a victim among those evil doers.
3. Your grandma says “Condenados marihuanos”
Literal translation: “Damned potheads”
To inform you about a group of youngsters who spend their time loitering around her place and whose sense of fashion clearly disturbs her. Slackers with inappropriate garments, like trousers that seem too tight or too loose, piercings or any visible tattoos, can’t be anything but marihuanos. You might think that your abue doesn’t have a clue about drugs or anything of the sort; however, those strange herbs she keeps in alcohol to cure herself from rheumatic pains are not exactly coriander. Where does she actually get that stuff?
4. Your grandma says “Si dios nos da licencia”
Literal translation: “If God gives us the opportunity”
She loves to use this ominous sentence whenever she talks about future plans. Notice that the phrase is cleverly expressed in plural. Just a reminder that you’re not getting any younger either.
5. Your grandma says “El chiflón”
Literal translation: “The one who whistles”
To refer to any wind current that could cause you some nuisance. For example, leaving the house immediately after having a big meal can crook your mouth if you encounter el chiflón in your way. Sometimes, these evil winds stay inside someone’s body and the only logical solution is to make a cone out of today’s newspaper, put it in the patient’s ear and — of course — set it on fire. Alternative medicine at its best!
6. Your grandma says “¿Ya andas tomando vino?”
Literal translation: “Drinking wine already?”
This is the usual question your abue will use to find out if you’re developing a habit for alcoholic beverages. She doesn’t give a damn about the different types of alcohol. From beer to absynth…everything is the same and will be referred to as wine.
7. Your grandma says “Debe ser por la Canícula”
Literal translation: “Blame it on the dog days”
To explain any kind of disgrace or misfortune that occurs during the hot months of the year. Of course, excessive heat can cause a lot of trouble, but blaming everything on a heat wave is just too much. The pain on her knees, blame it on la Canícula!, and that ugly spider that walked into her house the other day, yep, La Canícula’s fault as well.
8. Your grandma says “Jaletina”
No literal translation for this one…sorry.
Whenever she refers to gelatina (jello). And according to the Royal Spanish Academy…she’s not mistaken!
9. Your grandma says “Ya es la hora de mi comedia”
Literal translation: “Time to watch my comedy”
To inform you her favorite telenovela is about to start and that she doesn’t want to be bothered. If you decide to stay and share the moment with her, she’ll give you a quick briefing of every character and plot twist you need to be aware of in order to understand the current chapter. She’ll also start complaining about how illogical these stories are getting nowadays and she’ll swear that this is the last telenovela she follows in her life. A word of caution: watching the telenovela with your abue once can easily turn into watching the telenovela with your abue forever…and no, this is not the last one she’s gonna follow.
10. Your grandma says “Se te va a derramar la bilis”
Literal translation: “Your bile is gonna spill”
Meaning you should stop your tantrum right away. Calm down hombre!
11. Your grandma says “Ese niño está espantado”
Literal translation: “That boy is frightened”
A scared or frightened child is not the one who just saw a marathon of japanese horror movies on the TV. Being scared means being ill, and grandmas love to cure children from espanto. For such occasions, they keep a drawer full of strange ointments that must be applied in the correct parts of the body while repeating some prayers. The details of the ritual can vary, but children normally go from frightened to full panic due to the process. Wanna convince your abue that there’s no such thing as being scared? Good luck with that!
12. Your grandma says “Ponte unos chiqueadores”
Literal translation: “Put on some chiqueadores”
To put on what?!? Chiqueadores are the perfect solution for your bad mood, stress or to get rid of that recurring headache. This strangely named cure consists of pieces of plants — commonly sabila or tobacco — which you must put on your temples. They’re commonly fixed by a bandanna or paliacate, and they really work!
13. Your grandma says “Ya se soltó la tromba”
Literal translation: “The deluge has been unleashed”
So you better stop wasting your time on the internet and go grab the laundry before the rain gets it all soaking wet.
6 French habits I lost in Canada
Photo: Adam Nowek
1. I stopped worrying about my looks.
The feeling that I need to look like I’m going to a job interview every time I leave the house is no longer. I only realized that Canada had a serious influence on the importance I put on my appearance when, on vacation in France, my mom threw away a pair of shoes because, to her, they looked like “they belong[ed] in the garbage.”
They were not brand new, but to my newly-acquired standards, they looked just fine. Never in France would I have left the house with a pair of hiking boots to go grocery shopping, put on my toque to cover a mess of tangles, or sport my yoga wear to have coffee with a friend. Instead, I would have put on some clean pumps, washed and blow-dried my hair, and changed into a “proper” pair of pants.
I’m not saying that Canadians don’t look good or make no efforts to do so, but because they are a very down-to-earth bunch, they just don’t seem to care as much. They know when looking elegant is a necessity and when one should just be practical, which is most of the time. In all fairness, shovelling snow in your heels before going to work, or spending hours doing your hair when you’re going to cover it up with a woolen hat all day, is ridiculous.
2. I stopped disobeying.
The first time I came to Canada, while on a walk around Nelson, BC, I tried to cross a street at a red light, but my partner held me back and said: “We need to wait. You’re not in lawless France any longer.”
Even though his comment was meant as a joke, it resonated with me and the habits of my compatriots. In France, we do tend to do whatever we want, whenever we want, breaking the rules if the consequences are limited. We park poorly halfway on the sidewalk and run out of our car to get some bread at the bakery, we smoke on the train station’s platform, and we never pick up our dog’s poop.
At first, I was baffled when someone would refuse to pull onto the side of the road to enjoy the view for a few minutes because it was “not allowed.” Who cares if it was not allowed? Well, apparently Canadians care. A lot. And because I don’t want to look like a wild French woman, I just started to care too. Also, I must admit, it makes living together a lot easier.
3. I stopped taking medical care for granted.
Those who praise Canada for its brilliant medical coverage have never been to France. I never thought it would be that expensive to have your teeth cleaned or get your eyesight checked. Are your teeth and your eyes less important than the rest of your body? In Canada, apparently so.
Let’s not mention how much one needs to pay to visit to the doctor without a care card (about $100 for a five-minute consultation).
I have even gone as far as waiting for a trip to France, where I am not covered for any medical care any longer, to have one of my teeth fixed ($58, please) and get a pair of brand new glasses ($55).
4. I stopped laughing at the French Canadian accent.
That’s just how I speak now.
Like the British one for English speakers, this accent is contagious. If you hang out with French Canadians long enough, you’ll quickly find yourself saying “tiguidou” and “J’suis tannée” to your wide-eyed parents.
5. I stopped using a cell phone.
Canadian cell phone plans are unbelievably pricey compared to what we pay in France (or anywhere else in Western Europe). I’m aware that cell coverage in a country that is 15 times larger than France is not an easy task, but I am still not ready to spend $80 or more a month on a cell phone bill when I can use my landline and call anywhere in the world for half the price. To be honest, it’s also a good excuse to not be constantly connected.
6. I stopped shopping for expensive clothes.
Before my big move, I had never been in a thrift store. I had spent the first 23 years of my life buying all my clothes brand new and at full price. It’s not that French people resent buying second-hand clothes, it’s just that thrift stores are not a common sight over there. In Canada, however, they are everywhere and their abundance completely turned my shopping habits around. Canadians love their thrift stores and I guess I’m becoming one of them, because I ditched my old habits for this greener and cheaper alternative rather quickly.
Travel memoirs by writers of color
We were Black Americans in West Africa, where for the first time in our lives the color of our skin was accepted as correct and normal.
This is a story of an outsider in Ghana, but it’s so much more. It’s a political critique, a deeply personal memoir of a mother and son, Black identity, African identity. While Maya Angelou takes you to dark places, she never lets you forget a poet is leading the way, with sentences filled with emotion that cover the range of humanity, this is a wonderful introduction not just to Ghana, but our own worlds and identities. It builds on the narrative of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and Gather Together in My Name. Do yourself a favor, whether you’re planning on going to Ghana or not, read it.
2. The Jaguar Smile: A Nicaraguan Journey by Salman Rushdie
To understand the living in Nicaragua, I found, it was necessary to begin with the dead. The country was full of ghosts. Sandino vive, a wall shouted at me the moment I arrived, and at once a large pinkish boulder replied, Cristo vive, and what’s more, viene pronto.
I’ve always enjoyed the tapestry and complexity of everything Salman Rushdie has written. He doesn’t do predictable plots. And this narrative is characteristic of his fiction — it’s pointed, wonderfully written with large words for even larger ideas, and it uncovers the layers to a country I only know about through random headlines. In The Jaguar Smile, Rushdie brings to life people, politics, history, and of course, place.
3. In an Antique Land: History in the Guise of a Traveler’s Tale by Amitav Ghosh
I first began to dream of Cairo in the evenings, as I sat in my room, listening while Abi-Ali berated his wife or shouted at some unfortunate customer who had happened to incur his displeasure while making purchases at his shop.
Amitav Ghosh has written many gorgeously penned novels and the most devastating essay on the 1984 pogroms I have ever read, so I immediately picked up this work when I heard about it. It’s a wonderful mix of history and narrative, including what he does best — the first person. Whatever you want to call it — fictionalized memoir, historical non-fiction, paranormal dystopian vampire romance (okay, not really) — it’s a great read.
Ghosh traces the journey of an Indian slave to a small Egyptian village. He begins the story with historical facts, written a strong voice driven narrative. But rather than tell only the story of an Egypt from several hundred years ago, he also tells of the modern, mingled with the traditional state of this Egyptian village.
4. My Invented Country by Isabel Allende
Let’s begin at the beginning, with Chile, that remote land that few people can locate on the map because it’s as far as you can go without falling off the planet.
Isabel Allende doesn’t just write stories, she loads them up with dynamite first. Every single thing I’ve read of Allende’s, from her short stories to her novels, I have been completely absorbed by. Just like the strong sense of place in her novels with politics and beautiful landscapes, this travel memoir is about all of these things infused with the personal: the concept of home. She talks about Chile as home, it’s what she carries within her and is inseparable from her identity — just as the United States becomes without her fully realizing it until September 11. She tackles the nuances of other countries in Latin America, like the open machismo in Mexico compared to its subtler form in Venezuela.
5. A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid
As your plane descends to land, you might say, ‘What a beautiful island Antigua is’ — more beautiful than any of the other islands you have seen and they were very beautiful, in their way, but they were much too green, much too lush with vegetation, which indicated to you, the tourist, that they got quite a bit of rainfall, and rain is the very thing that you, just now, do not want, for you are thinking of the hard and cold and dark and long days you spent working in North America (or, worse, Europe), earning some money so that you could stay in this place (Antigua) where the sun always shines and where the climate is deliciously hot and dry for the four to ten days you are going to be staying there…
This tiny 10-by-12-mile island is brought vigorously to life with Kincaid’s beautiful essay. I could give you more of a synopsis, but after reading the excerpted sentence above, I dare you to keep from reading the rest.
6. Running in the Family by Michael Ondaatje
Drought since December. All across the city men roll carts with ice clothed in sawdust. Later on, during a fever, the drought still continuing, his nightmare is that thorn trees in the garden send their hard roots underground towards the house climbing through windows so they can drink sweat off his body, steal the last of the saliva off his tongue.
A travel memoir from the same guy who wrote The English Patient and Anil’s Ghost? Yes, please.
I had to have it as soon as I saw it lying in a heap of books on a blanket outside a train station somewhere in South India. I forget how much I paid, but I was for sure overcharged because I couldn’t contain my excitement that it existed and that I’d found it.
Running in the Family has history and family lore pumping through its veins. It’s an absolutely fascinating journey into Ondaatje’s Dutch-Ceylonese lineage, filled with what makes his novels so intriguing — he is able to seamlessly bring characters to life as well as the spaces that they inhabit.
7. From Heaven Lake — Travels Through Sinkiang and Tibet by Vikram Seth
The flies have entered the bus, and their buzzing adds to the overwhelming sense of heat. We drive through the town first: a few two-storey buildings of depressing concrete, housing government offices or large shops — food stores, clothing, hardware.
I picked this book up in Lhasa without ever having read Vikram Seth’s novels. I’d heard about the goliath of his Suitable Boy, in college, of course, but it was all about white literature in my undergrad and postgrad years. So I never read anything by people of color aside from white academic approved texts — Jhumpa Lahiri, Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, Pico Iyer.
I found this at a book stall and had to read it immediately. I was pretty much doing Seth’s exact journey without knowing it. I had just finished teaching in China for two years and was heading to India to meet up with my sister and parents by hitch hiking through Tibet and Nepal. Vikram Seth left his graduate program at Nanjing University and hitchhiked back to New Delhi through Tibet.
Seth brings out colourful characters and weaves politics like magic. Unfortunately I’ve never read the entire 1,000 page novel of Suitable Boy, but man did I make a valiant effort. I made it to page 643 and it’s still bookmarked from six years ago — a year before my daughter was born. One day.
8. A Turn in the South by V.S. Naipaul
The land was flat, like the pampas of Argentina or the llannos of Venezuela. But trees bordered the fields and gave a human scale to things. We passed tobacco barns, tallish, squarish, corrugated iron structures, where in the old days tobacco was cured. They were in decay, the corrugated iron rusted dark red, the wood weathered gray.
Naipaul is a world class jackass with deep-rooted misogyny and right wing, fanatical racist Hindu beliefs that re-envision history. Plus, he very quickly jumped on the “Islam is the devil” bandwagon before it was truly popular — but goddamn, he can tell a good story.
The writing in his travel book is sometimes totally on key with the characters brought to life with keen observation. And the topic of race is so uncomfortable for the folks in the book contrasted with Naipaul’s indifference about it, that it’s almost comedy. He covers areas in the American South, from Atlanta to Charleston, Tallahassee to Tuskegee, Nashville to Chapel Hill.
9. Tell My Horse: Voodoo and Life in Haiti and Jamaica by Zora Neale Hurston
Jamaica is the land where the rooster lays an egg. Jamaica is two percent white and the other ninety-eight percent all degrees of mixture between white and black, and that is where the rooster’s nest come in. Being an English colony, it is very British. So in Jamaica it is the aim of everybody to talk English, act English and look English. And that last specification is where the greatest difficulties arise. It is not so difficult to put a coat of European culture over African culture, but it is next to impossible to lay a European face over an African face in the same generation.
This is written by Zora Neale Hurston. That, in and of itself, should be enough to make you want to go out and buy it. If not, I’ll add one more thing: it’s about VOODOO. More specifically, it’s the normalization of Voodoo and other spiritual beliefs that allows it to be genuinely explored through her personal experiences in both Haiti and Jamaica. A wonderful, wonderful book. This ain’t no minstrel show.
10. Butter Chicken in Ludhiana by Pankaj Mishra
Elsewhere, I found a ‘fast-food’ restaurant where a pizza was grated Amul Cheese on sliced white bread, and a vegetabe burger consisted of tikki slapped between two fruit buns. The restaurant, however, was crowded; duplication, however inept, was paying off. For instance, the muzak at this restaurant, which was of India’s biggest non-film musician: a Rap singer from Lucknow, who, by defltly replacing socia comment with inane chatter, had turned himself into a millionaire. Significantly, hiw mist successful album was entitled Main bhi Madonna, roughly as Me too Madonna.
Butter chicken has its roots in Mughlai cuisine and is what Punjabis in dhabas serve to outsiders. Even though it has nothing to do with canonical Punjabi food, it’s also ubiquitous throughout India as Punjabi khana. Let the fools have their butter chicken.
This isn’t Pankaj Mishra’s usual hard-hitting, incisive, research-heavy style of writing. Nor is it a look at the political machination of the butter chicken industry. It’s an incredibly well written book about a small town in Punjab by someone with a traveler’s soul. He attempts to humanize the people he meets without forcing his own ideology and there are of course certain heavy themes like the new Indian middle class and the Indianified toxic capitalism that reigns free, but overall this is a character driven story. We see wit, insight, and scenes with shopkeepers talking about planning holidays in London. Come for the Butter Chicken, stay for the wit and insight (new tourism campaign for Ludhiana).
This article originally appeared at Ishq in a Backpack and is republished here with permission.
14 signs you're from Charleston
Photo: Kyle Jackson Photography
1. You’ve had hundreds of pet fiddler crabs.
You didn’t even have to go looking for them, somehow they found a way into your home. Eventually you probably got bored with them and used them as bait.
2. You talk with that lowcountry twang unique to Charleston.
You understand Geechee Gullah, and can even speak it. You know and use the word “kooray,” but you’re not sure how to spell it. You know the proper way to pronounce Vanderhorst, Huger, Legare, and Gaillard.
3. You love the smell of pluff mudd and the color “Charleston Green.”
4. You’re never in a rush, and you’re always polite.
You walk slowly and you talk slowly, because it’s too damn hot to over exert yourself. You smile and nod at everyone you pass in the street, whether you know them or not. You always hold the door open for people, and saying “yessir” and “yes ma’am” is second nature.
5. You can navigate through the marshes, cricks, and rivers with your eyes closed.
You learned to drive a boat way before a car. Depending on the tide, you know the best places to get shrimp, oysters, clams, crabs, and fish.
6. The sight of dolphins no longer excites you.
And seagulls are nothing but pests.
7. You’re accustomed to spending long periods of time in damp clothes.
You know that the moment you step outside in the summer you will be hit with a wall of heat and humidity so thick your sunglasses will fog up and you’ll start sweating profusely.
8. You don’t throw away worn-out tennis shoes.
As a kid you’ve suffered lacerations from oysters, clams, and other sharp objects in the mud. You probably have a pile of old tattered muddy shoes tucked away somewhere to have on hand for venturing out into the marshes. You’ve unintentionally made several shoe sacrifices to the almighty pluff mud god.
9. You know where the Mason Dixon line is located.
You refer to anyone hailing from above it as a “yankee,” and you think the South is better off without them. You don’t trust democrats, or anyone who prefers their iced tea with no sugar. You also have a slightly negative sentiment towards Savannah, because you blame them for being the reason we lost “The War of Northern Aggression.” You know all of the words to the old confederate song “Dixie.” You, or someone you know, is a member of the patriotic organization “Sons of the Confederacy.”
10. As a child, your biggest fears were: hurricanes, driving over the old Cooper River Bridge, and being in houses that didn’t have “Haint Blue” porch ceilings.
Your recollection of life events is either dated “before Hugo,” or “after Hugo.” You know how to board up windows, and probably have a special emergency supply of food stowed away somewhere just in case. You probably held your breath and crossed your fingers as you crossed the river on the ancient 2 lane bridge that looked as though it could collapse at the slightest breeze. Blue paint on the ceilings was intended to keep away wasps, evil spirits, and nightfall.
11. You’ve witnessed people kayaking, or even wake-stating in the streets.
You know to stay away from downtown if there happens to be a heavy downpour during high tide because the city can quickly flood several feet in minutes causing terrible traffic, and houses and cars to flood. But it can also be a good excuse to call in late to work and bust out the water toys.
12. You always dress to impress.
Ladies- you know the difference between heels, wedges, pumps, and stilettos and most likely own at least one of each, in every color. You are an expert at walking in them thanks to years of maneuvering though cobblestone streets, 200 year old cracked up driveways, and crooked porches and houses. You also own a pearl necklace, and multiple accessories containing your monogrammed initials or a palmetto tree. Men- you own a seer sucker suit, and multiple bow ties, pastel shirts, croakies, and visors. All of your visors are discolored and stained from sweating profusely.
13. You were surprised to learn that not every house has porches.
As a child you thought that crooked, 2 story high porches was the norm. You thought that all docks were at least 100 ft. long, and that all yards had a joggling board.
14. You don’t eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you eat breakfast, dinner, and supper.
Sunday dinner always included rice and Bloody Marys. Grits is not just for breakfast, and you drink sweet tea with every meal. She Crab Soup is only one ounce of sherry away from becoming a cocktail. You have eaten oysters prepared in every way possible, and you know that peanuts are way better boiled. You know that the best place to get boiled peanuts is on the side of the road, where you can also buy baskets weaved out of sweet grass from the Awenda Basket Ladies.
February 8, 2015
The stories of our travel mentors
1
"On the surface he might have looked like a typical tourist, with pale white skin which often burnt under an English sun let alone an African one. He always wore khaki-style trousers and shirts, and kept a phrasebook in the front zip of his rucksack. But my dad was as far removed from your notion of a 'tourist' as it is possible to be. He hated beaches and hotels and craved culture, interaction, adventure, and meaning. He set up multiple charity links around the world with our school, and when he took me to Rwanda with him I saw first hand what sort of impact he was having on communities there.
Perhaps the juxtaposition of the super-tourist look versus his nature and attitude made people love him more. Either way, to hundreds of people he was a father, an uncle, a friend. He was inspirational in ways few of us can only hope to be. And so he never wanted me to simply 'travel'. He wanted me to explore, to experience, and to learn. He always took us to somewhere new whenever he could get time off work, and although being perched on his shoulders gazing at a Scottish loch might feel very distant now, every new country still brings another experience, another memory, another acquisition of knowledge, and a forever thankful son."
Jeremy Ullmann
2
"Bruce Parry spends a month with indigenous groups all around the planet, from the chilly wilds of Siberia to the humid rainforest of the Amazon. In this time, Bruce goes to extreme lengths to integrate himself, even when it is painful, like undergoing traditional piercings, dangerous, like bull jumping, or cause him to vomit uncontrollably -- like trying ayahuasca.
He now appears on the BBC, bringing issues faced by indigenous communities to the fore. For me, it is his eloquent description of returning home and never being able to truly fit back to reality. The feeling of constantly looking for the next adventure, the next untouched corner of the world to explore with a relentless hunger that makes the humdrum of day to day life almost unbearable. An admirer for years, as I re-watch episodes I am reminded of important lessons I have learned on my own travels. To slow down, take time, push yourself, to protect what you find and never ever be afraid of a language barrier!" (Image © BBC 2004)
Samantha Jenkins
3
"My point of inspiration is Greg Marinovich. I met Greg in the early '90s, shortly after he won his Pulitzer. At the time, I was wondering if photography and travel would ever intersect with my long-term interest in social justice. I don't recall what Greg said during his presentation; I do remember most of what he told me during the "meet-and-greet" following his slide show. He said, and I'm paraphrasing:
"Just seeing someone — especially a mother over a young child or a young fighter or a young civilian who's being killed — and that look they give you as you come to photograph them, while you're kind of apologizing about photographing, is so humbling."
At that moment, I knew my path was set and my destiny was forecast. I didn't know it would be close to ten years before life circumstances and my skill set would merge and allow me to travel and turn my camera — and pen — on social justice issues globally." Photo: Via
Jerry Nelson
Intermission
134
The 22 craziest party hostels around the world
by Matt Kepnes
184
12 differences between a normal friend and a Spanish friend
by Ana Bulnes
1
Shut down in Egypt: One artist’s story of struggle and oppression
by Becky Hagan-Egyir
4
"She called home after talking her way into the country, riding a golf cart up a steep mountainside, and readying herself to sail by catamaran around the Windward Islands.
My older sister, Melissa, is my travel mentor. She left our Midwest home to study oceanography and coral reef restoration after high school. While living and working in the Florida Keys, I came to visit, and she chartered a snorkel boat to take me to the living brain coral she had transplanted herself. In many ways, my sister reminds me of a female Jacques Cousteau, her head always underwater, discovering a new creature, cavern, or species. Melissa traveled to Honduras to become scuba certified, then sailed the Caribbean by catamaran. She taught scuba diving and slept under the stars every night for months. After hearing her travel tales, I knew I’d go on to do some exploring of my own."
Jill Kozak
5
“That’s hereditary” usually follows something negative, but every time I get an email blog update from my expat Aunt Pupsi, I smile, knowing that whatever is in her blood is definitely in mine. Most people over 70 don’t tend to have a blog, especially one chocked full of adventures experiencing different countries and cultures, but she does. I continuously try to tag onto her epic escapades to Scotland and Oman and Argentina and wherever her heart desires, but the truth is, I can’t keep up with the “old lady.” Instead, I follow her advice carefully, embrace her unfettered strength to live life fully, and plan for the best-selling biography I’ll write about her one day."
Sara Schneider
6
"For me, wise old women have always been a staple part of life. My wonderful grandmother, my next door neighbor, my 1st grade teacher — I’ve always found myself soaking up the wisdom of the women around me. I guess it’s not too surprising then, that on my first trip to Asia, I found myself sidled up to this beautiful Burmese grandmother at her son’s restaurant in Bagan, sharing a cigar and talking without speaking any of the same languages. It’s people like her that make me feel comfortable yet fascinated when I’m away from home, and it’s that feeling that keeps me tirelessly exploring the world."
Doree Simon
7
"Adam Gaine, a 27 year old from Ireland was venturing around the United States on an orange Honda Shadow motorcycle when he approached us outside of Mac's Tavern (the one owned by Rob McElhenney) in the Old City District of Philadelphia. A few Camel Crushes and five 10 percent Felony IPAs later, we found ourselves on the fire escape of our hostel, sharing travel stories and hopes for future adventures.
He told us about a patient of his back home who he gives round-the-clock care to, Simon Fitzmaurice. Diagnosed with Motor Neuron Disease and left paralyzed, Fitzmaurice has written a book, It's Not Yet Dark, and an upcoming film My Name Is Emily, entirely with the use of an eye gaze computer. Adam's passion and energy in speaking of Fitzmaurice, as well as his stories of his journey through the US and Africa, fueled me throughout the rest of my own travels. It's funny how strong a connection can be developed in a simple meeting, and how such pain can be felt in parting ways with someone I've only spent a total of eight hours with."
Shannon Gadberry
8
"I read Ed Abbey's book, Desert Solitaire, on the train back from my first solo trip to the Southwest. A week later, in Rochester, NY, I read The Monkeywrench Gang, and knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life: road trip, hike, and rock scramble in the desert Southwest -- and fight for that country. I've done that for exactly thirty years. Next week, I'll head out to the Mojave Desert to find new places I've never moved across before and I'll fight to keep them free from corporate solar installations." Photo: Via
Mary Sojourner
US coal emissions [chart]
Take a look at how United States CO2 emissions from coal stacks up next to the rest of the top-10 coal-based polluters.
Though second to China, which accounts for a whopping 50% of the total global CO2 emissions from coal consumption, the United States still contributes a substantial amount of carbon dioxide from coal use, accounting for 13 percent of the global total.
By Simran Khosla, GlobalPost
This article is syndicated from GlobalPost.
February 7, 2015
Drone footage of Shanghai
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IT’S BECOMING MORE AND MORE EVIDENT that drone technology is something the travel industry will start investing in. These high-quality, non-obstructive cameras are able to capture the clarity of Shanghai, despite its pollution problem. Even with a population of over 14 million people, this video footage is able to zero-in on what the city truly has to offer — a diverse, proud culture, other-worldly architecture, and a unique system of infrastructure. Cheers to Cian Greaney for sharing this city through the smog. 
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