Matador Network's Blog, page 2169

Piss off a parent on an airplane

Photo: Micah Sittig

Tell us to ‘stay at home.’

There are many reasons why families travel. It’s no easy feat taking small kids on an intercontinental plane ride, and it’s often not a decision we as parents take lightly (trust me, I’d love to save the extra money that goes into flying a family of five across the continent). Being the twat with the screaming kid on the plane is one of the worst parenting moments; almost as embarrassing as being the twat whose kid pooed in the public pool.

Like everyone else, we want a vacation too — but on a deeper level, because giving our children the gift of travel at a young age is one of the biggest gifts we can give them as parents. Travel exposes children to people, cultures and experiences they don’t get back home and allows them to become more tolerant and open minded adults. Those are the same reason you travel too, right?

Give us a nasty look when our child starts screaming.

Yeah we get it, being on a plane with a screaming kid sucks. We know this because before we had children, we were solo travelers too and, yes, we cringed at the sight of a family boarding the airplane. Now we are hogging the front row in economy with baby bassinets, oversized diaper bags, and silently praying that our little angels keep quiet during the flight.

For most parents, preparing a family for air travel takes on the same proportions as planning a military expedition. We pack extra food, clothes and diapers; we even wrap presents as extra little goodies, lovingly prepare their favorite snacks, and try to cover every eventuality — from delays, to medical emergencies — to keep our little angels quiet during the flight.

Ignore us when we could really use an extra set of hands.

Any parent knows that two hands are never enough. There’s the diaper bag, the scruffy teddy, the milk bottle, the pacifier, and just when you thought you’re more loaded than a Sherpa on Mount Everest, Little Miss Toddler decides she can’t walk anymore and needs to be carried if you’re looking to make your connecting flight on time.

Try walking up a narrow plane aisle, while 200 other passengers are shoving behind you, and trying to get your oversized diaper bag into the overhead compartment. You could really use a hand, but all you get is a few embarrassed sniggers. Suddenly everyone is either looking out the window, or at the still inactivated screens in front of them.

A friendly smile and an extra hand, if you can spare it, goes a long way. Just sayin’.

Fail to put our situation into perspective.

Airplanes and airports are the perfect breeding ground for toddler meltdowns. Long check-in queues, passport controls, austere security checks, and more waiting to get on the plane can test anyone’s patience — and that’s all before you even stepped on the plane. There are the 300-plus strange faces to contend with, confined space, neon lights, incessant aircraft noise, and missed naps. When the same situations also apply to you and make you cranky, is it really a wonder why my child is having the meltdown of the century?

We agree, no one likes a screaming child on an airplane, but next time you’re at the receiving end of Little Johnny’s tirade, please know that we are trying our best. If that doesn’t work, crank up your headset, use the complimentary ear plugs, and breathe deeply; we’ve all been at the receiving end of annoying passengers, and it’s not only children.

Point out that Expedia proclaimed “Parents of unruly children” to be the worst passengers.

An Expedia survey found that inattentive parents traveling with unruly children are officially the number one pet peeve of air passengers. There are definitely tone-deaf parents blissfully immersed in their headphones whilst Little Johnny screams like a maniac, and I can’t make excuses for them. But I think that the dude snoring like a walrus is more annoying, or even the Chatty Cathy who just spent the entire 12-hour flight blabbing non-stop about her arthritic knee.

We all have different thresholds of testing our patience and comfort. Wanting to expose my children to the outside world doesn’t make me a bad parent. But maybe if you stop hogging the armrest, pushing your knees into the back of my seat, or remember to shower before boarding, I’ll reconsider bringing my kids abroad.

Think we’re asking for extra favours.

Priority boarding, special children’s meals, express customs clearance, toys — these are all things that make a huge difference to traveling families, and can be the clincher between a happy child and a meltdown.

Traveling as a parent can be an exhausting experience. No longer are our main concerns whether to choose chicken or beef from the meal trolley, or whether to watch the latest release or have a nap. These days we’re more concerned with sacrificing our shut-eye to keep the little ones rested and calm.

We appreciate every little bit of help the airlines can give us. Flight crews know what they are doing — unlike you, who may experience the annoyance of a child on your flight every so often, they have to deal with it on almost every flight. If you honestly feel like our special treatment comes at your expense, flag down a flight attendant and pony up the $3 for a pair of “special headphones.”
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When traveling becomes escapism

Photo: Dominic Hartnett

In 2009, I was living at home with my parents, I was unemployed, and I was miserable. Someone made the mistake of giving me a copy of the book Into the Wild, so I decided that I, too, was just going to drive around the country in search of adventure. I told everyone about my plans, and started buying equipment, like a stove that I could hook up to my car’s cigarette lighter. I invested in a better backpack and I started putting more money into savings. Finally, when I was a month off from my departure date, my dad pulled me aside.

“Matt,” he said, “this is a fucking stupid idea.”

I protested. Didn’t he want me to move out? Didn’t he think I should experience life?

“Yeah,” he said, “But you’ll be back here within a month. Because you have no money, and because you aren’t the type of person who wants to die in the Alaskan tundra on an abandoned bus.”

My dad, unfortunately, was right. It was a fucking stupid idea. Instead, I got a job working at a fruit shack, and found a place to live with a few other buddies. I resented him for a while though. “Why shit on a good travel plan?” I thought.

Travel isn’t always a good idea.

I’m not of the opinion that people who don’t have money shouldn’t travel. I do think that travel is something that really only relatively privileged people get to do, but I don’t think it should be that way, and I think that if travel is a priority for you, even if you’re poor, you should find a way to make it happen.

That said, me traveling poor was a horrible idea. In the three years prior to my dumb trip idea, I’d spent about a full year living abroad. The idea of sitting in my parents’ house on the outskirts of Cincinnati, where no massive festivals or parties were happening, where no sexy Australian girls were inexplicably flirting with me, was unbearable after all that jetsetting. So I decided to escape.

I’ve since had a few other travel schemes similar to the Dumb Trip, and I’ve learned to identify them relatively quickly. First, the plan usually has an incredibly short timeline, possibly because there’s a voice in the back of my head screaming “LEAVE! NOW! NOW! NOW!” Second, the plan is usually spectacularly ambitious. Perhaps it’s a motorcycle trip from Buenos Aires up to Houston at a time when there are no roads connecting Colombia and Panama, and at a time where I have no knowledge of how to drive a motorcycle. Or perhaps it’s simply a $2,000 plane trip to Thailand at a time when I’ve only got $200 in my bank account. If I manage to take a second to step back, I can usually catch these warning signs.

And it’s times like these that I have to accept that I have deeper problems than travel can solve, and that, like alcohol or sex, or drugs, travel is just something I’m using to avoid those deeper problems.

When you should stay still.

Most people, when they travel, find that they are discovering things left and right. They are discovering new cultures. They are discovering things about themselves that they never knew before. They are discovering that their stomach’s tolerance for tainted water is not great. Whatever it is, travel is a learning process, and this can make it therapeutic.

At one point, I booked some solo travel. I was living in London at the time, and I decided to head to Belgium for some Christmas markets. When I got there, I found that the portions of the trip I most looked forward to were ones where I was on the trains and could read, or when I could hole up in a cafe or bar and read. I spent maybe 50% of my waking time reading, and when I got back to London, I thought, “Well, shit, I could have easily done that in London and saved a ton of money.”

When you hit this point, you’re no longer traveling to learn. You’re traveling because you’ve got shit to deal with, and you aren’t letting yourself do it in your normal habitat. The idea of a “staycation” is starting to catch on with a lot of people, and in spite of being an absolutely atrocious portmanteau, it’s a good idea. One of the best things you can learn after spending a lifetime of moving is when to stay still.
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6 undeveloped islands to visit

Photo: TimOve

25 YEARS AGO, a few intrepid travelers found paradise in the Andaman Sea. Phi Phi Island, off the coast of southern Thailand, was almost totally undeveloped.

There were no resorts on Phi Phi – just white sand beaches and palm trees, plus a small village of sea gypsies who called themselves “the island people.”

Travelers who made the epic journey to Phi Phi returned to the mainland with glittering eyes and epic stories. More travelers caught the once-a-week cargo ship to this new island paradise, then more and more and more.

Today, Phi Phi is packed with tourists. Dozens of resorts line the once-empty beaches and trash floats in the water off concrete piers built to accommodate large ferries.

Phi Phi is still beautiful, “a discovered paradise still worth checking out” as Matador founder Ross Borden puts it, but for those who knew the island before the crowds arrived, Phi Phi is a tragic example of Paradise Lost.

A call for RESPECT

Some of the islands described below are on the track to development, though early in the stage. Some are already protected. It’s up to you, as a sensitive and engaged traveler, to respect the information below, to preserve the natural environment and to honor the people who call these island Edens home.

-Tim Patterson, Editor, MatadorTrips.com

6. Koh Rong, Cambodia

Photo: Austin King

Koh Rong is bigger and more beautiful than the most famous Thai islands, but there are no established beach resorts on Koh Rong yet, simply because it’s in Cambodia.

In 2007 your faithful Koh Rong correspondent camped in an abandoned house on 6 miles of white sand beach, and survived scary encounters with illegal loggers and Cambodian Navy men.

In 2014, there still isn’t running water, and electricity is only available for a few hours a day, but there’s wifi everywhere on the island… There’s also word of heavy investment on Koh Rong, with big money flowing to the boss man in Phnom Penh and rumors of Russian, Japanese, and Chinese investors. By 2020, there should be a luxury resort built.

5. Bohol, Philippines

Photo: An diabhal glas

I have a confession. The Philippines intimidate me. There are just too many islands, too many languages, too much history.

How to pick just one of more than 7,000 islands?

Matador expert Casey Gusto lived on Bohol island in the Philippines for 2 years. Bohol gets a lot of tourists, he says, which it should – it’s one of the most beautiful islands in the whole archipelago.

But there are gorgeous parts of Bohol that are not developed, including outlying islands, where you can chill with some of the friendliest locals in the world.

4. Cuttyhunk, Massachusetts, USA

Photo: Ben Eriksen

Cuttyhunk is one of the most laid-back island “summer communities” off the coast of New England. There’s nothing to do except catch enormous striped bass, breathe fresh sea air, and sniff about the new money that ruined Nantucket.

Cuttyhunk.net says it best:

Cuttyhunk does not have discos, bars, malls, a singles scene, a party life, video games, parking lots, traffic, or much action.

What Cuttyhunk does have is a quiet, isolated, beautiful, ocean environment, perfect for getting in touch with yourself.

For bonus points, arrive in Cuttyhunk on your own sailboat.

3. Teuri-to, Japan

Photo: Snap55

Teuri-to is a lot like Cuttyhunk, except it’s off the northern coast of Hokkaido, the northernmost island of Japan, way north of Vladivostok, Russia.

The fresh sushi and sashimi on Teuri is quite simply the best and cheapest I found in 2 years of traveling around Japan and the locals will be thrilled to see you.

2. Providencia, Colombia

Photo: Cultura de Red

Providencia is the less developed of two isolated islands that lie off Colombia’s Caribbean coast, near the border with Nicaragua.

Construction on the island is limited and the inhabitants own all the hotels so as to contain the dangers on the environment of becoming too popular for tourists.

Thanks to Richard, one of Matador’s many Colombia experts, for the heads-up:

Long stretches of white sandy beaches, verdant hillsides and palm trees lining the streets. Over the five days we rented a moped to explore the island, lazed on deserted beaches, drifted in the breeze in hammocks, slept late and enjoyed some cold ones with the locals. It was a cliche, it was paradise.

1. Salt Cay, Turks and Caicos Islands

Photo: Loretta

I thought I’d never write about Salt Cay. It’s a special place to my friends and family, truly a second home, just a low-lying slab of coral, sand, and memories 90 miles north of Haiti, as far from the corruption and resort glitz of the capital island Provodenciales as you can get in the Turk and Caicos islands (which are south of the Bahamas).

Salt Cay is the most beautiful island I know, not because of the sunsets, empty beaches, neighborly humpback whales or free-range donkeys, but because of the pious, good-humored and hard-working people who live there.

the project of the whole island being ripped in half for a mega-resort, complete with golf course and yacht marina came to a halt recently, but the future of the island is looking grim. The airport has been lengthened to accommodate private jets and the rapid growth of tourism on the island has already damaged the coral reef and the shorlines.

The development in the Turks and Caicos is getting ugly. I wonder if I’ll ever go back there, and I can’t write about this anymore.

This article was originally published on May 4th, 2008.

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Write the Details. Write the World.

Photo: Lulu Lovering

Cars and trucks glittered in the neon. I was looking hard, seeing details: the hippie couple ahead of me, both white kids with dusty dreds, the woman in a raggedy patchwork skirt, skipping like a kid. I was looking hard. I was thinking of the Black cop in Reservoir Dogs; “…get the details was the soap yellow liquid or that gritty pink powder?” — Journal entry, 2/16/95

I read my way through the shadows of my childhood. My mother intended to give me a love for books. She succeeded — in equal measure by intention and by going psychotic again and again. I learned to pay attention to the details: the ambulance parked in our driveway, the still figure on the gurney, the empty pill bottle left on the bedroom rug.

Once she had tried suicide a second time, I began to watch for signs. The descent was more terrifying than the final act — always an attempt that occurred in time for my father or me to find her. I learned the details. Her face would begin to lose color. Her eyes would go flat. There would be a casserole on the kitchen table, a note, and that stillness that I would see as color. Yellow-gray.

There was no one to tell. It was 1946, 1948, 1950, 54, 56, and 58. No one spoke of bipolar disorder or even mental illness. They might have whispered, “Lillie had another nervous breakdown.” with the same horror they would say of another, “He had the Big C.”

There was no one to tell. My father was terrified. It was 1946, 48, 50…men were not supposed to be afraid. Or helpless.

In all of this, I had no idea I was being trained to be a writer.

I told no one. Then, on a day my mother’s mind was clear, she took me to our little farm-town’s library, tucked into the basement of the one bank. It was the only place that was cool during the humid northeastern summers. The librarians were all women of a certain age.

My mother signed me up for my own library card. I walked into the children’s section and understood I had found shelter.

I read every night. Summer was best because even after bedtime I could read by the long, generous eastern twilight outside the western window. I read till my eyes ached. And, when I finally crawled into bed, I pulled the covers up over my face and watched the stories play out behind my eyelids.

For 10 years I read and carefully watched my mother; then, I found myself watching the rest of the world with almost as much attention: the way December twilight turned the snow to sapphire; how maple leaves went not just scarlet, but each red in my watercolor box; how lightning was a brilliant opening in a midnight sky.

I was twelve the first time I wrote a story. It was a northeastern version of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’ The Yearling. The little boy became a little girl. The deer became a raccoon. The devastation became the bulldozing of the creeks and hills of my homeland. In fact, Kodak and Xerox had expanded. Suburbs spread everywhere. In my story, the raccoon lost its woodland home. There were abundant details: sapphire light, alizarin crimson leaves, lightning seaming the July sky, how a field of ragged stumps was a carcass.

I wrote. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea I was detailing a world.

To do: Sit or stand or walk for 30 minutes. Do nothing but pay attention to the details: light, colors, sound, scent, how the air moves, light and shadow. Write later and see if the details fill out the writing. See if they make a sliver of the world.

First published at Matador’s travel journalism school, MatadorU.

Top 20 American microbreweries

Via

1. Kettlehouse Brewing Company, Missoula, Montana

Known lovingly as the “K-hole” by Missoulians, this tiny brewery features an even smaller taproom where you’ll find locals of all stripes downing Cold Smoke Scotch Ale.

They don’t serve food, but the intensely hoppy Double Haul will usher in the perfect ending to a day of fly fishing the Clark Fork (a mere 200 feet from the front door) or exploring Glacier National Park.

2. Barrio Brewing, Tucson, Arizona

If you’re visiting Tucson to cure Seasonal Affective Disorder, consider this brewery for your therapy. Barrio is hard to find, but the beer and the beautiful view of the surrounding mountains makes it worth the effort.

Their porter is a GABF award winner and even in the heat of summer should not be passed over for the lighter beers in their lineup. Don’t be alarmed when the patrons shout that a train is coming. Beers go on special when the railroad gates come down over the road outside.

3. Full Sail Brewing Company, Hood River, Oregon

This tiny town in the Columbia River Gorge is the gateway to Mt. Hood and home to some of the world’s best windsurfing and kayaking. The drive through the gorge to get there is worth the trip itself, but the beers take it to the next level. Enjoy a cask-conditioned Imperial Stout while looking out over Hood River and the Columbia Valley.

4. Second Street Brewery, Santa Fe, New Mexico

Break away from the tourist strip and head to Second Street for late afternoon sun and fresh beer out on the patio. You can hear live music, mingle with locals, and drink a great Scotch Ale.

5. Clipper City Brewing Company, Baltimore, Maryland

Every year, scores of tall ships sail into Baltimore’s historic ship-building Inner Harbor as mobile museums. After exploring some of the ships that altered the course of human exploration and transportation, grab a Loose Cannon IPA. Clipper City is known as much for their whimsical beer labels under their popular Heavy Seas lineup as for their small-production winter reserve ale.

6. Free State Brewing Company, Lawrence, Kansas

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Kansas may be considered fly-over country, but as you look over the wheat fields, you’ll realize all those craft beers you’ve enjoyed your whole life were born right here. What better way to get in touch with the beer’s grainy lifeblood than a stop into Free State? Lemongrass Wheat is the perfect thirst-quencher for a summer afternoon on the prairie.

7. Uncle Billy’s Brew & Que Smokehouse & Brewery, Austin, Texas

While you’re in Austin checking out the music scene, get back to what Texas is really about by visiting Uncle Billy’s. Don’t expect to find a dark beer on tap, but the Back 40 Blonde is surprisingly hoppy. Also available are brews by the newly opened 512 Brewing.

When in Texas do as the Texans do and slather their signature habanero hot sauce on your food.

8. Brooklyn Brewery, Brooklyn, New York

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Brooklyn Brewery‘s central location in the city makes it an easy stop-over between sites and events. Notable brews are The Pennant Ale ’55 and the Post Road Pumpkin, one of the best flavored ales around.

9. Sleeping Giant Brewery/Lewis and Clark Brewing Company, Helena, Montana

This small city is central to all locations in the Big Sky State but is best known for its deep roots in the boom-and-bust world of precious metals. Stop into Lewis and Clark (still known as Sleeping Giant to the locals) for a burger and a Tumbleweed IPA, one of the best IPAs in the country.

10. Deschutes Brewery & Public House, Bend, Oregon

Bend has become synonymous with rec-head culture. At Deschutes you’ll find friends recounting the day’s rides along McKenzie River Trail or how the world looked from atop one of the Three Sisters.

While the Deschutes brewery has a nice taproom, its Public House offers special brews — like cask-conditioned ales — that the brewery doesn’t.

11. Ale Asylum, Madison, Wisconsin

You expect something different from this funky Midwest college town and the Ale Asylum delivers. The cleverly named brews run the emotional gamut from Ambergeddon to Happy Ending, fitting perfectly with the underground culture of the city that gave us The Onion.

The brewers bring their eclectic tastes to the taproom. The Hopalicious APA, as the name suggests, tastes like it’s brewed on the other side of the Rockies.

12. Boundary Bay Brewery, Bellingham, Washington

A Boundary Bay Beer Flight. Via

A trip to the San Juans won’t be complete without a stop at Boundary Bay. Like most taphouses worth visiting, it’s often packed with locals. The IPA has the hoppiness associated with the Pacific Northwest, and the Amber is well balanced and smooth.

13. Asheville Pizza & Brewing Company, Asheville, North Carolina

Asheville Pizza does various takes on the traditional pie, and their Shiva IPA and Houdini ESP are both exceptional brews.

14. Moab Brewery, Moab, Utah

Moab is home to Canyonlands and Arches National Parks and is unique in the world for its mountain biking scene. When visiting the Moab Brewery, check out the Dead Horse (named after the famous Canyonlands vista point) and Deraillieur Ales.

15. AleSmith Brewing Company, San Diego, California

AleSmith shows you what craft brewing is all about. Both the brewmasters and their beers have won awards. They have a huge selection (by brewery standards) on tap, so expect to spend a full weekday afternoon sampling. Note: the taproom isn’t open weekends.

16. Long Trail Brewing Company, Bridgewater Corners, Vermont

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The Green Mountains of Vermont are home to the Long Trail, the oldest long-distance hiking trail in the U.S. It crosses the state’s highest peaks from the Massachusetts state line 270 miles north to the Canadian border. It’s also the namesake of Long Trail Brewing, one of New England’s premier micros.

Stop into their active brewery and see the action from a balcony above the floor on a self-guided tour, or just enjoy one of their signature ales on a balmy day in their riverside “beer garden.”

17. Twisp River Pub, Twisp, Washington

Northwest sport climbers and mountaineers alike will run across the small town of Twisp at some time in their lives, if only passing through to get to the exposed granite of the northern Cascades. The Twisp River Pub is excellent; Methow Brewing is a true microbrewery, keeping batches to 100 gallons or less for the highest quality. They also pull some beers by hand using a traditional beer engine.

18. Novare Res Bier Cafe, Portland, Maine

Old Port’s Novare Res has the best beer selection anywhere in New England. Whether you grab a seat inside at one of the wood-paneled bars or outdoors on the expansive patio, anything from Maine’s local Allagash Brewing is a good pick for a pint.

19. Dogfish Head Brewings & Eats, Rehoboth Beach, Delaware

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Expect something different from Dogfish Head beers — like the Raison d’Extra, a brown ale brewed with raisins. If you’re going to sample more than a couple, bring money for a cab. These beers not only have plenty of alcohol, but they seem to have been magically brewed to hit harder than most. Dogfish also handcrafts gin, vodka, and rum. Plan to sleep in.

20. New Belgium Brewing, Fort Collins, Colorado

New Belgium was one of the founders of the microbrew movement and has since grown to the point that it blurs the line between micro and macro. Their top-notch beers have a wide fan base, but they also put on a deep roster of community events focused on sustainability.

Don’t miss the summer Bike-In Cinema nights (think drive-in, but with bikes and beer). There’s nothing more pleasurable than lying back on the grass under glittering stars, sipping a Fat Tire Amber and enjoying a flick with 300 like-minded souls.

Explore the world party scene with 101 PLACES TO GET F*CKED UP BEFORE YOU DIE. Part travel guide, part drunken social commentary, 101 Places to Get F*cked Up Before You Die may have some of the most hilarious scenes and straight-up observations of youth culture of any book you’ve ever read.

This article was originally published on April 28, 2009.

How to travel to Africa without being another neocolonialist

Photo: Janice Waltzer

WELCOME TO AFRICA. Or rather, welcome to South Africa/Kenya/Ethiopia/wherever. Because it isn’t — as we routinely try to point out — a country at all.

But that’s a cheap shot. You knew that of course.

Yet there might be some stuff you didn’t know. Or knew, but weren’t paying particular attention to. So here’s a primer on some of the basics when coming to South Africa/Kenya/Eth…. Sod it. Africa. You’re coming to Africa.

1. Learn to love buses.

Photo: computerwhiz417

Seriously. Unless you are traveling on a bed of dollars (immaculate, post-2006 ones if you’re going to Congo), you’d better learn to love buses. Anywhere worth going can be reached by a bus. Even places that buses should really not be able to reach. By buses that should really not be allowed to try.

There are a million kinds. There are air-conditioned ones that feed you en route — just like the Greyhound back home. They will pop up in obvious places like Johannesburg and Nairobi. And not-so-obvious places like Khartoum. There are the ratty, dangerous kind that will sway, have shitty seating, and begin the journey with prayers.

And finally, there will be the completely screwed, used-to-ferry-livestock (and you) variety. Many of these may not even look like buses. Giant roaring monsters with not a single redeeming feature except that they’ll get you to where you want to go, and you may be allowed to sit on top for parts of the journey.

2. Drop the heroic voluntourism.

Nobody takes a holiday to London and drops in at the local slum to voluntour a few hours of singing and dancing with the local kids there. (Those English, they just have such rhythm in their culture!) It would be strange and condescending, and a bad idea for a whole range of reasons.

So don’t do it.

If you’re actually traveling to wherever in order to do some well-planned, real development work (setting aside a massive academic debate for a moment), then fine. If you’re coming for an adventure and would like to briefly get your Clooney on, please refrain. We’d much prefer it if you concentrated on having fun.

Also — while we’re undermining your explorer/hero fantasy — no two-tone khaki explorer clothing. Only the game ranger gets to dress like a game ranger. The same goes for references to ‘African Time’ or saying ‘T.I.A.’ to other travelers with a knowing look. Yes, it is Africa. But the problem at hand is likely that you’re being impatient and irritating. There are words for people like that on the continent, but they’re mostly shorter than three syllables, and children might read this.

3. Don’t be scared. Most of us are the 99%.

Someone probably told you something about Africa being scary. Where “scary” may have ranged from casual references to “Nairobbery” or Joseph Conrad, to something about an RPG-toting teenaged pirate in sandals.

The pirates exist. And some of them do indeed wear sandals. Of those, a handful may even have earned their rocket propelled grenades. But they are a minority of perhaps a few dozen in a continent of a billion, and unless your travel operator has you scheduled for deep-sea fishing in the Gulf of Aden, you will probably never meet any.

Conrad and being mugged in Nairobi — unless you’re intending to seek out specific places — are little more than exaggerated fantasies.

Read more: 5 African festivals you have to go to (and 2 to look out for)

99% of the people you meet will be friendly, civil folk. I’m assured by a colleague just back from Mogadishu that it’s probably around 90% there. Perhaps 83.7% in Bokara market (where they shot the famous Black Hawk down). But I digress.

Point is, Africa doesn’t bite. For the most part, everyone wants the same things as anyone else their age. To send their kids to college. Drinks with friends. An iPhone. That kind of stuff.

Very few people — RPG-carrying or otherwise — are sitting and waiting to harm you. So be scared of all the friends you’ll make instead.

4. Learn some photographic etiquette.

There are some photos we wish you would stop being so obsessed with. Things like:

You hugging our kids. You carry diseases and look a little too much like Angelina Jolie, except you aren’t bringing colossal amounts of UN funding when you leave.

Photo: Tim & Annette Gulick

You pretending to be “ethnic” in a non-ironic way. Hair in cornrows. Pretending to pump water. Stirring my porridge while your accomplice goes crazy with the shutter. Imagine walking around in America wearing a cowboy hat and chaps non-stop. Wanting to have a hand in pouring beer and flipping burgers everywhere while your friends take pictures. Yeah. It’s weird in the same way.
Photos of livestock. Lions and wildebeests we understand. You don’t have any, and in their thousands, they’re pretty damn awesome. But a goat on the roadside? Donkeys eating trash? Have you never seen a farm animal before?
The sun. The glorious, incandescent, I-had-a-farm-in-Africa sun. Granted, it looks glorious through a telephoto lens on the savanna the first dozen times, but it’s about as original as the Cape Town skyline.

If you exercise your creativity a little, you’d be surprised how much else is possible. Your friends and family back home will thank you for bringing back an account of your journey that reads like something other than KONY2012 dating the Lion King.

5. Check your playlist.

As you’ll be on a bus a great deal (because you’re going to interesting places) a playlist will be important. If you intend filling it with “African” music, you may be eligible for an intervention. Music by Shakira, Toto, K’naan or Johnny Clegg means you require diversification therapy.

“Nwa Baby” or Amadou & Mariam are good starts. Then go to a music shop nearby and ask what’s popular at the moment. You might find some gems.

You might. You might also hate it. Some places give national acclaim to truly terrible artists. But you won’t know unless you’re willing to give it a try. Kind of like visiting the continent in the first place.

White people from up north were busy for a very long time, wreaking the destruction that extracted slaves and built London and Brussels.
6. Read some history.

Particularly if you’re European. Your forebears had a description-defyingly-large impact on the continent. The Italians massacred the Ethiopians. The Germans annihilated the Herero in Namibia in the first genocide of the twentieth century. The English built concentration camps in Kenya and South Africa, to complement the bloody activities that Rhodes and Kitchener were up to at various points. Don’t even get me started on France or Portugal.

Or, God forbid, the Belgians.

The point is that white people from up north were busy for a very long time, wreaking the destruction that extracted slaves and built London and Brussels. Yet for all the profound histories that various African countries have, too few visiting foreigners have the slightest clue of them.

At best, it’s a little disrespectful and really deprives you of a rich understanding of the place (would you visit Germany knowing nothing of the Cold War or the Nazis?) At worst, it leaves you looking like an idiot when you metaphorically return “home” to Africa by flying into Cape Town. If you think you metaphorically “left” in the slave trade, you should be flying to somewhere in West Africa. If you’re speaking in terms of the exodus of ancient man, you probably want to go to Kenya or Ethiopia. Or Johannesburg.

So, history is important. For both of us. Us, because you pretty much took a giant historic sledgehammer to it. You, because it will make travel so much richer than animal spotting and faux-humanitarian photography (see above). Did you know there are pyramids in Northern Sudan? Or that Portugal sent soldiers to Ethiopia centuries ago to help their emperor in a holy war? And that the castles of said emperor remain in Gonder to this day?

Now you know. And Ethiopia and Sudan just became a world more interesting because of it.

* * *

I’m so glad we got all that out of the way. Things should be so much less awkward now. Let’s hug.

This article was originally published on October 11th, 2012.

Why millennials don't travel

Photo: Britt-knee

1. I don’t earn enough money to travel.

According to a Federal Reserve’s Survey of Consumer Finances, if you’re earning more than $35,300 a year, you’re making more than half of all millennials across the country. Incomes in general, when adjusted for inflation, have been falling in recent years.

Yet the people I met while traveling were definitely not the exception to this trend. I met several waiters, retail workers, baristas, and minimum-wage workers who had still managed to save money and travel with the income they had.

A lot of this has do expert budgeting, but much of it also has to do with how you plan your trip. For me, even expensive locations like Patagonia or Europe were affordable by tackling these places with budget tactics: hitchhiking and taking buses over renting cars and taking trains, going during off-season to get bargain prices, or camping/couchsurfing instead of staying in lodges or hotels. Income may dictate the way you travel, but it doesn’t have to dictate whether or not you travel at all.

2. My city is too expensive for saving money.

Surviving the city is no joke these days. A recent study found that the best cities for social mobility and professional opportunities are often also the most expensive places to live, a paradox that leaves most millennials unsure of how they can ever conquer the American Dream. The average rent in San Francisco, the city I moved to at 22 with my first real job, has now hit $3,200 a month, making it the most expensive city in the States.

Still, during those two years working as a teacher in the Bay Area, I managed to save enough money to travel by cutting out city-costs wherever I could: I got rid of a gym membership and biked/hiked instead. My roommates and I turned a two-bedroom apartment with an unnecessarily large living room into a three bedroom by building a partition. I rarely shopped; I took public transportation instead of cabs; and I ate Trader Joe’s frozen dinners instead of buying take-out.

A Silicon Valley techie recently wrote an article describing how he managed to trim his expenses down to $20,000 a year while living in the Bay Area, still saving enough for an occasional backpacking trip at the end of the year. Cities are tough, but they’re not impossible when you place your financial priorities in the right areas. It’s all a matter of downsizing your expenses now to experience something greater later.

3. I can’t give up my apartment.

With rents going up and housing opportunities often scarce, having to let go of a good deal you’ve had on an apartment can be reason enough to stay put. But with websites like Airbnb, House Carers, Mind My House, and others, subletting your place has never been easier. Many travelers even fund their adventures this way: using sublet money to pay their expenses and still having their warm, comfy home to come back to when they return.

4. I have too many student loans.

Millennials are experiencing the worst student debt in history: 40% of people under 35 have student loans, compared to only 23% in 1998. The magnitude of this debt is also far more crippling than it’s been for any other generation before. The Institute for College Access & Success says that on average last year’s college grads carried $28,400 in debt, compared to only $10,000 in 1998. So deeply in the whole, it’s understandable that many young people feel there’s no way to use their savings for travel.

Yet what’s less understood is what a gap year of travel does to a debt-repayment plan. Many longtime backpackers I knew simply budgeted their monthly payments into their travel expenses for each month, and still found it entirely manageable to do both at the same time. For example, a backpacker living off of $20 a day in Southeast Asia, can easily add $300 monthly debt payments and still end up only spending $900 a month to travel, far less than what many millennials would spend in a typical month in the United States.

5. I don’t know enough about handling finances to pull this off.

Much has been written about the financial illiteracy of most millennials today — we fail quizzes asking basic questions about financial planning, we don’t own credit cards, we’re distrustful of banks.

But managing finances abroad is a lot easier than many of us think. With online banking, most bills can be taken care of remotely. And daily expenses while abroad are easy if you prepare the right resources beforehand: opening an account with Charles Schwab ensures that all your ATM fees abroad are refunded. Applying for a travel rewards credit card ensures that you pay no international fees while traveling, and build up points and miles that could later lead to a free flight. Of course, exchange rates can be confusing at first and the stress of daily budgeting can feel overwhelming when you don’t have the safety of a monthly pay check. But most travelers learn that travel-finance skills are not nearly as intimidating as they previously had thought.

7 Americanisms that Brits don't get

Photo: Nathan Rupert

1. “Could you recommend a hoppy beer?”

In the United States, we’re undergoing something of a craft beer revolution. It’s pretty fucking great, because we’re finally no longer the country of faux-German pilsners made from pisswater. But the craft beer revolution has overcompensated for American beer’s previous tastelessness by hopping the bejesus out of their beers. We have beers named “Palate Wrecker,” “Hopsecutioner,” “Hopzilla,” and — no joke — “Hoptimus Prime.”

But beer hoppiness hasn’t been as big of a deal in the UK. Sure, it’s the country that invented the IPA, but whenever I’ve asked for “hoppy” beers in London, I’ve gotten quizzical looks, been asked if I meant, “happy beers,” and if so, what the fuck is a “happy beer,” and then, finally, berated by a surly bartender: “You realize all beers have hops, yeah? So every beer’s a fuckin’ hoppy beer.”

2. “I’m fucking pissed.”

You aren’t angry in the UK if you say this: you’re drunk. And let’s be honest, Americans — the British version of “pissed” makes way more sense.

3. “You will never catch me wearing a fanny pack.”

Actually, a Brit would never say this either, but only because “fanny” in the UK means “vagina” instead of “ass,” and thus “fanny pack” doesn’t exist as a term in the British vernacular. If you think about it, though, “fanny pack” makes more sense using the British meaning than the American one, considering which side of the body the fanny pack is usually worn on. Of course, this common sense doesn’t extend to the British term for fanny pack, which is “bumbag.”

What’s most frustrating about this term is that it originated in Britain, and the term has always referred to the vagina over there. So whoever brought it over to the United States and Canada decided to just fuck with everyone by having the body part it referred to moved three inches to the posterior. It would be like if America decided to take the English word “shoulder” and have it refer to the arm instead.

4. “Oh god, I can’t wait for Girl Scout cookie season.”

They are “Girl Guides” in the UK. Sorry Britain, you win for “pissed,” but we win at naming our proto-feminist organizations.

5. “Ah, I loved Where’s Waldo? books when I was a kid.”

Where’s Waldo? is actually a series that was created by a British writer, and it was not called Where’s Waldo? there originally. It was called Where’s Wally? in the UK, and the name was changed for reasons I can’t really fathom — it’s not as if Waldo is a more common name in the United States than Wally – but apparently Wally changed his name in a lot of places around the world. He’s Willie in Afrikaans, Walter in Germany, and Ubaldo in Italian.

This is a fairly common practice between the two countries: decide that the title doesn’t translate well between cultures (even though it basically does) so change it to something dumber. The best other example of this is Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, which America changed to Sorcerer’s Stone. The annoying thing about this change is that the Philosopher’s Stone is actually an ancient alchemical myth, while the Sorcerer’s Stone is nothing. It’s just an attempt to Disneyfy the title.

Britain occasionally does the same to our cultural products, though. There’s no such thing as White Castle in the UK, so they got to see the cinematic masterpiece Harold and Kumar Get the Munchies, and in Britain, everyone’s favorite heroes in a half-shell are the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles.

6. “Could I have some sprinkles on my ice cream, please?”

In my home state of Ohio, I’ve heard sprinkles referred to as jimmie sprills, which I will admit is a completely ridiculous name for sprinkles. But in the UK, they have been given the much wordier name, “Hundreds and Thousands.”

I have to give this one to the Brits as well — the name “sprinkles” is charming and to the point, but any time I get to go into an ice cream parlor and ask for “HUNDREDS AND THOUSANDS” of anything, I feel like a billionaire. Or a god.

7. “My favorite year of school was probably my sophomore year.”

The Freshman-Sophomore-Junior-Senior High School system does not translate into British English because they have a different schooling system. The British schooling system is probably incredibly simple to Brits, but to me, it always sounded like the rules to cricket — completely labyrinthine and impenetrable. In the US, it’s relatively simple: first through twelfth grade, maybe followed by college, maybe followed by grad school.

In the UK, there’s college, but it’s not the same as uni, and students have to take things called A Levels and GSCEs and Forms, and you can choose to “sit” certain exams. I think America wins on simplicity, but I actually went to grad school in the UK, and found that I learned a lot more under the British system than I ever did under the American system. So we’ll call this one a tie.

30 things travelers do in their 30s

Photo: Jacob T. Meltzer

1. Have someone wait for them at the arrivals area with an embarrassingly large sign.

When Jeff and I arrived via train to Chiang Mai, we had someone from our guesthouse waiting for us with a very large, very white sign saying “Ms. A.” As we walked with the driver to the car with the very large sign in tow, I spotted a group of backpackers scoffing at us. I was offended until I realized I used to be one of them.

2. Spend more time updating LinkedIn than Facebook.

Because I need to work again someday and those pictures of me doing shots in a hostel weren’t doing me any favors.

3. Fly. Direct. With upgrades to economy plus.

I just can’t do three-day, five-connection bus trips anymore. In May, Jeff and I had two options from getting from Chiang Mai, Thailand to Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Fly direct in 2 hours
Take a 23-hour voyage by train, bus, and tuk-tuk for 25% less

Guess which option I picked.

4. Not speak to anyone for days.

There are stretches of weeks when Jeff and I only talk to each other because we’re staying in a hotel or apartment instead of living communally in a hostel.

5. Look up #YOLO.

Yup, I had no idea what that meant until earlier this year.

6. Check out how clean a restaurant is before eating.

When I was a younger, dirtier-looking restaurants seemed more “authentic” to me. In what universe did I think that was a good idea?

7. Stay in a hostel dorm bed, but only to see if they’ve “still got it.”

Grabbing the top bunk seemed like a good idea at time…until I realized I had to climb back down that ladder.

8. Buy travel insurance.

I didn’t own anything of value (including my Honda Civic) until I was 30, so the idea of buying travel insurance never occurred to me until last year.

9. Pose for photos at the same site in the same way as when they were 25.

Pinching the Eiffel Tower never gets old. Right?
10. Take one look at a crappy room for rent and walk away versus walking right in.

The internet in 2014 has thousands of options compared to my travel book in 2004.

11. Travel in groups of one or two, not 10.

I’ve noticed that unless it’s a tour group, herd-like traveling seems to dissipate for people in their 30s. Unless you count those stray cats I put in my backpack.

12. Bring a pharmacy.

This might be better filed under “Anxious Traveler,” but I’m now prepared for a medical apocalypse. My World Health Organization immunization card has more words than Anna Karenina and my toiletries bag has more prescriptions than Walgreens. When I traveled in my 20s, “well prepared” meant remembering to bring a band-aid.

13. Scoff at groups of young backpackers.

Whenever I pass younger backpackers heading out to party at 10 pm, I think “THANK GOD I’m going to bed now.”

14. Secretly admire groups of young backpackers.

Upon overhearing said backpackers regale their stories the next morning, I reminisce over my own days of partying with complete strangers whose name I never knew in cities I can barely remember.

15. Take hot water for granted.

While researching places to stay in Morocco, I found accommodations where hot water was a feature. I laughed until I remembered that the only hot water I used in India 15 years ago was from inserting a live metal coil into a pail of water. God knows how I never electrocuted myself.

16. Show up in a new city with hotel reservations.

Over ten years ago, I backpacked around Brazil for three months via bus. Every week or so, my traveling partner and I would hop on a bus and head to a new city. Then we’d walk around town until we found a guesthouse or hostel in our budget. I’ve cut it close on this trip, but we’ve always showed up in a city with somewhere to stay.

17. Handshakes before hugs.

What?!? You want to press your entire body up against mine before I even know your name?!

18. Book a first-class train / bus ticket instead of “roughing” it in second class.

My friend Marisa and I traveled in Europe and India together in our 20s. We were cheap and broke, so we’d always get around in the cheapest way possible.

We used to take turns sleeping on 2nd or 3rd class overnight trains so one of could serve watch against over-excited men and wily thieves. Once, when some men tried getting a little too personal on an overnight train, we sang “We are the World” at the top of our lungs until we scared off everyone, including the train attendant.

Now I’m willing to pay a little bit more to upgrade, because my lungs don’t work like they used to.

19. Sleep in a bed.

Gone are the days when I’ll sleep in the corner of a random bus station. Overnight.

20. Only drink from bottles with hermetically-sealed caps.

I could pull out the water sterilizer I still haven’t used, but what would I do without my daily liter of sparkling water?

21. Wear a blazer instead of a fleece jacket.

There was a time when looking like a backpacker was a source of pride. Today, I try to dress stylish by wearing the same clothes I’d wear at home. Wait a minute…that means I should be dressed like a backpacker.

22. Go to Starbucks.

There was also a time when I wouldn’t be caught dead in a multinational chain abroad. Today, I squeal with delight when I can order a double-tall, extra-hot soy latté. With extra foam.

23. Start their day at 6 am instead of 6 pm.

See #14

24. Replace Lonely Planet with Rick Steve’s.

Sorry LP, there’s a new sheriff guide in town.

25. Unpack the hair dryer from their suitcase…and then repack it.

I tried going without a hair dryer. However, after six weeks of looking like I’d touched a loose wire in Cambodia, I broke down and bought a hair dryer and hair iron.

26. Bring a suitcase.

I wish my backpack could grow wheels and a handle to give my aging back some rest.

27. Return home with money.

Since living with my parents is no longer an option, I need to budget during and after the trip.

28. Call home. And not just to ask for a loan.

I’m still going to pay you back someday, Mom!

29. Take a vacation from their vacation.

If you understand this, you’re probably over 30.

30. Dream about quitting their jobs to travel.

#YOLO

This article originally appeared on Expositions: Stories about the road (less) traveled. It has been adapted and republished here with permission.

48 ways traveling is like sex

Photo: Darian Wong

1. Sometimes a free breakfast is involved.

2. No matter what, there’s usually some baggage.

3. It can drive you crazy if you haven’t done it in a while.

4. It always leaves you wanting more.

5. There are times when you like doing it with other people. But there are also times when it feels way better doing it alone.

6. Sometimes you set your sights so high that you’re disappointed in the end. Other times, you have low expectations and experience something totally unexpected.

7. There are people who abstain from it. And you don’t understand why.

8. It has a distinct smell.

9. You know people who have done it more than you. You also know people who have not done it as much as you have.

10. Your entire personality changes during the course of the event.

11. It can be used as an escape, or to fill a void.

12. You can get a disease if you’re not careful.

13. If you’re good at it, you’ll do it a lot more.

14. Sometimes, you’re unsure of whether or not to do it, or whether or not it’s the right thing to do right now.

15. You definitely dream about doing it at the office.

16. You can do it more than once. You can do it all day, every day, if you really wanted to.

17. It’s completely natural.

18. Some people like to photograph it, or take videos.

19. Sometimes it’s for business. But mostly, it’s for pleasure.

20. You know the best places to find it on the web.

21. You can make a career out of it.

22. You need to use protection if it’s a risky situation.

23. Most people do it between the ages of 18 and 65, but some are younger and some are older.

24. The most popular time to do it is during the summer.

25. You can pick up good tips in a guidebook.

26. Trying something new for the first time is both exciting and scary, but you’re always happy to have done it afterwards.

27. Some people do it after careful planning. Other people are spontaneous about it.

28. You can do it on a train, a plane, in a car, on a boat…

29. Sometimes you leave stuff behind, like your underwear, or your phone charger.

30. It makes you feel really fucking good.

31. Your friends who haven’t done it might not “get” why you did it first. They might even be jealous. But they’ll do it eventually.

32. You can do it with strangers or people you know.

33. There are all kinds of different ways to do it — with a man, with a woman, with a group of people, or by yourself.

34. Sometimes, it’s horrible. I mean awkward, unsatisfying, sloppy, and overall not memorable.

35. It’s good for relieving stress.

36. Sometimes you wake up and are like, “Where the hell am I?”

37. It can take a long time.

38. There’s usually a bed, but sometimes there’s a couch involved.

39. Lots of people like to stay in hotels while doing it.

40. It can be addicting.

41. Even a bad experience can be better than no experience.

42. Finding people to do it with is sometimes tough.

43. Sometimes you get it for free; other times you pay too much for it.

44. Sometimes you leave a mess behind. And then there are times when you need to take a shower right after.

45. People sometimes come to you for advice about it.

46. It’s not always a good idea to do it with your best friend.

47. It can be exhausting.

48. You never forget your first time.