Matador Network's Blog, page 2213
September 10, 2014
21 spectacular trees and forests
Madagascar is known for these strange, alien groves of giant baobabs. Find them on the road between Morondava and Belon’i Tsiribihina, in the west of the country.
Photos via, via, and via
2. Wisteria “trees”
Technically, wisteria is a type of flowering vine. But there are several growing in Japan that are decades or even centuries old and have been sculpted into fantastical wisteria-scapes that are as large as any tree.
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3. Rainbow eucalyptus
The rainbow eucalyptus is found mostly in the Pacific Islands (the one in the first shot above is from Kauai). The strange coloration happens when the surface layer of bark falls off. The bark underneath starts off brown and then changes colors over time, giving the tree its rainbow effect.
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See more like this: 15 awe-inspiring forests from around the world
4. Dragon’s blood trees, Socotra Island
Found on the Socotra Archipelago in the Indian Ocean (part of Yemen’s territory), dragon’s blood trees get their name from their red sap.
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5. Bamboo forests
Bamboo is another plant that technically isn’t a tree (it’s a grass), but when you’re walking through a dense forest like those above, what’s the difference? Sagano Bamboo Forest (seen in the first two photos) near Kyoto, Japan, is the most famous, but you can also find them in places like Hawaii (third photo).
Photos via, via, and via
6. Angel oak tree, South Carolina
The famous Angel Oak tree — named not after the fact that it looks like Guillermo del Toro’s conception of the Angel of Death from Hellboy 2, but after its owners’ surname — is around 1,500 years old, growing just outside of Charleston.
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See more like this: 25 natural wonders that will inspire you to explore
7. Giant sequoias, California
Sequoia National Park in California is home to the largest trees in the world, by volume. Pictured above are the President (first photo) and General Sherman (third photo).
Photos via, via, and via
8. Beech tree tunnel, Northern Ireland
This tunnel of beech trees in County Antrim, Northern Ireland, was planted back in the 18th century by a man who was trying to impress people coming up to his home at the end of the road. The tunnel is referred to as the “Dark Hedges,” which doesn’t at all make it sound like a place where leprechauns would steal your baby.
Photos via, via, and via
9. Dead Vlei trees, Namibia
The white clay pan of Dead Vlei is located in the Namib Desert. It once lay in the floodplain of the Tsauchab River, but when the water vanished as a result of climatic change, so did the trees’ ability to survive. They exist now as skeletons, backdropped by immense orange sand dunes.
Photos via, via, and via
10. Blossoming cherry trees
From the German city of Bonn, to the grounds of the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, to DC’s Tidal Basin, cherry blossoms mark the arrival of spring.
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11. California’s redwoods
The tallest trees in the world, coast redwoods, grow within a narrow sliver of land on the California coast, from just south of the Bay Area up to the border with Oregon.
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See 10 more incredible trees and forests on page 2 >>
On the reclining plane seat debacle
Photo: David King
I’m a nice guy.
I hold the door open for old ladies. I listen to my friends’ problems and offer thoughtful advice. I donate to charity. I give pet owners a smile instead of a scowl when their big, stupid dog slobbers all over my goddamn hand.
And I recline my seat every single time I’m on an airplane.
This is apparently now a part of our national conversation because nothing else pressing is going on that we need to talk about (Ferguson? Who’s Ferguson? You mean the annoying brother from Clarissa Explains it All?). In the past couple weeks, three planes have been diverted because passengers acted like petulant children when the person in front of them reclined. They fought; the planes were forced to land.
The internet exploded (as it has before). This past February, the conservative website The Federalist published an article titled We Need to Come to a National Consensus on Airplane Seat Reclining.
Pardon me, The Federalist, but no we abso-fucking-lutely do not. This is an invented issue. This is not a big deal because reclining your seat on an airplane is not a big deal. There are literally — and my use of the word literally here is not hyperbolic — millions of more important things we need to come to a consensus on than airline-seat etiquette. I would list all of the millions here, but I have a word limit and a personal policy against making lists to disprove dumb statements.
I say this using my authority as a tall, overweight person. I am 6’3’’, which makes me eight inches taller than the average American male, and I weigh 220 pounds. I recognize there are other people who are taller and heavier than me, and I understand that not all larger-than-average individuals will agree with me. But suffice it to say, I’m often intensely uncomfortable on airplanes. The seats are too small for me, and I usually have to angle my legs either into the aisle — where they’re hit by the beverage cart — or into the wall — where they never quite fit — all because my legs lack the ability to pass through solid objects.
Sometimes, the person in front of me leans back and I have slightly less space. Do I rage against that person for their selfishness? No. Because I have a neat little trick I can do that provides me with more space: I can lean my chair back, too.
Are we mad at the people who put us in this sardine-can prison? Are we mad at the people who designed airline seats using the physical rules of the M.C. Escher Universe? No. We’re mad at the guy who wants a little more space.
When I fly, I tend to resign myself to discomfort for the duration. I get up and walk around so I don’t get deep vein thrombosis and die. Usually the only place to walk to is the bathroom, which I also can barely fit in. If anyone tells you they’ve joined the Mile High Club, by the way, don’t believe them unless they’re Keebler Elves. There’s no way two full-size people can fit inside those aluminum closets.
But discomfort is part and parcel of modern flying. It’s there along with taking your shoes off when going through security and getting the most intimate areas of your body looked at by a stranger using one of those newfangled peeping-Tom machines.
There are so many little indignities involved in flying these days: paying exorbitant amounts to bring any piece of luggage that can hold more than a book of matches, getting eye-fucked by lecherous security employees, being treated like a war criminal by airline employees, having to turn off your Kindle pre-flight for “security reasons,” not being able to say “The real security risk is what I’ll do if I don’t get to read Harry Potter during takeoff” without getting tasered by a burly ex-Marine Air Marshal, having to connect through the Atlanta airport, and so on.
But the indignity we’ve chosen as the last straw is when our fellow passengers try to alleviate their suffering by desperately squeaking their seat back three and a half inches. Are we mad at the people who put us in this sardine-can prison? Are we mad at the people who designed airline seats using the physical rules of the M.C. Escher Universe? No. We’re mad at the guy who wants a little more space.
Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I wouldn’t be surprised if all the CEOs of all the airlines gathered together last year around a Strangelovian war room table and, after worrying about rising customer dissatisfaction, decided to create the nefarious Knee Defender contraption that’s caused a number of these passenger-on-passenger skirmishes. “Maybe if we make them think this is each other’s fault,” they said, “they’ll stop complaining about us and fight each other!”
And, oh, how it worked. Instead of opting for more comfortable (not to mention more environmentally friendly) modes of transportation, we went to war with each other. They’ve successfully wagged the dog. 
The new Apple Watch and travelers
It can be hard to keep track of your health while traveling, but the Apple Watch will do so automatically. It will track your movement, calories burned, steps walked, run, or cycled, etc. It’ll also remind you to stand up for at least a full minute once an hour, an important and easy-to-forget exercise on those long-haul flights.
2. It’ll keep your water-phobic iPhone safe.
Traveling without your smartphone isn’t an option for many, which means losing one to water, sand, or snow has become an occupational hazard for the modern traveler. Getting all of your notifications, texts, and emails on your waterproof Apple Watch means keeping your iPhone safely in your room.
3. You can leave your credit cards at the hotel.
Starting in 2015, you’ll be able to pay for things at many retailers with your credit card using just your iPhone and Apple Watch. This means you can leave the cards back at the hotel and travel light, while also minimizing the risk of having them stolen.
4. You can send something more personal than texts back home.
Feeling homesick? You’ll be able to send someone you’re missing your heartbeat and have them feel it on their wrist, live from their own Apple Watch from anywhere in the world.
5. You’ll have maps on your wrist.
GPS and smartphones have made getting around in a new place super easy. With the Apple Watch, you’ll get that same convenience right on your wrist, always accessible no matter how many bags you’re lugging around.
6. It’ll give you remote camera control.
Set your iPhone up on a rock and take as many group photos as you want while checking the composition from your wrist.
7. You’ll have all your favorite apps, only smaller and closer.
Can’t travel without Yelp, Foursquare, Facebook, Twitter, etc? Starting this week, any iOS developer can begin developing apps for the Apple Watch to have them ready in plenty of time for its release in early 2015.
The author, Tom Reynolds, is a writer whose Young Adult Sci-Fi novel Meta became a bestseller out of the gate in 2013. The sequel is due out in fall 2014. You can also catch him as one of the hosts of the iTunes top downloaded podcast The Complete Guide to Everything.
9 underrated beaches in California
Gold Bluffs Beach. Photo: David Fulmer
Picture California’s North Coast, and beaches might not be the first thing that comes to mind. Hence the underrated status of Gold Bluffs Beach, a 10-mile stretch of pale sand halfway between Eureka and Crescent City — as far north in the state as you can go before the Ataris write an album about it.
But what you do expect from the North Coast — mist and mystique, smaller crowds, and redwood groves — is all here in abundance. Hang a left off the 101 onto Davidson Rd, just north of Orick, and continue for a few miles as the pavement turns to dirt and the tall trees thin as you reach the Pacific. If you take the time to camp and explore, you’ll find elk wandering along the foggy shore.
2. Manchester State Beach
Manchester State Beach, with Point Arena Lighthouse in the distance. Photo: Sharon Mollerus
Manchester State Beach wasn’t built for surfing or swimming. Nor sunbathing, really. But if every beach were, they’d get a little dull, don’t you think? Manchester, off Highway 1 just north of Point Arena in Mendocino County, is located in a catch basin of currents, making the water itself haphazard and murky. But it’s in that swirling vortex of hydrodynamics that the magic is found. The catch basin offshore means these five miles of sand are littered with perfectly polished driftwood and other marine artifacts, which makes walking the sand continuously fascinating.
Oh, and inanimate objects aren’t the only things getting caught in the currents. Bring a pole and tackle. Hell, bring a string with a bottle cap attached to the end. You’ll be going home with a few days’ worth of fish tacos either way.
3. McWay Falls, Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park
McWay Falls at Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park. Photo: Dawn Ellner
It’s easy to get what Jack Kerouac saw in Big Sur. When life started moving too quickly for the man only comfortable with transience, he retreated to the shores of the Central Coast, spending his days searching for his sanity by kicking through the sand and wandering the forest. The area is quiet, and though it takes foggy cues from the North, there’s much that’s unique to the region: tiny beaches at the bottom of the cordillera that cuts across the coast; outlets for the creeks.
Bixby Creek is the most famous, with an iconic bridge standing over it, but it pales in comparison to the beauty of McWay Falls, a small beach on the shore of Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, some 40 miles south of Monterey. Here, while the creek winds into the water like a snake, another outlet falls with a slap onto the sand. A large sentinel rock stands nearby, creating a closed area where the sound of the waves echoes into the silence.
The falls feature in an untold number of screensaver-postcard-pics, and thus this beach isn’t “underrated” per se — but it’s also easy to miss and hard to reach. The hike takes you through the forests that have made Big Sur famous, and by the time you get to the water, you’ll feel not unlike the storied bohemians who made the trek before you. Alone in nature.
4. Guadalupe-Nipomo / Pismo Beach
Guadalupe-Nipomo Dunes. Photo: Pacific Southwest Region
If you want crystal clear water, try the bathtub. A great beach is all about the sand. Running in the water and then corndogging yourself in silica is a rite of passage for every child at the beach. And while everybody loves to brag about how powdery a beach’s sand is, how white it is, the real fun is the interaction.
If that’s what you’re looking for, then Guadalupe-Nipomo (just south of San Luis Obispo on the Central Coast) is the place to be. It’s the largest remaining coastal sand dune group south of San Francisco, making it not just a place to roll — go ahead and bring a snowboard if you’ve got the agility. If you don’t, head north. The northern tip of the dunes is known as Pismo Beach, and it’s become a hub for motorsports, with cheap rentals of ATVs and even monster trucks.
Of course, the beach is great where the sand meets the water as well, and there’s generally a disconnect between the people frolicking up the hills and the people relaxing at the bottoms. Take your time on either side. You’re gonna need the dip to cool off after an afternoon of sandy shenanigans.
5. Two Harbors
Sailboat at Two Harbors, Catalina. Photo: Kenneth Hagemeyer
Usually, finding the best-hidden beaches can be as simple as driving the PCH and pulling over when you spot a place worth stopping. But if you only go that route, you’ll miss one of California’s worst-kept secrets: Santa Catalina Island (just call it Catalina), 22 miles offshore of the greater LA area — catch a ferry from San Pedro, Long Beach, Newport Beach, or Dana Point.
Catalina is a tourist hotspot, and Avalon (the only real city on the island), despite having a decent beach, is packed full of tourist candyshops and hotels. Few people venture outside this first port of call. Meanwhile, on the other side of the island is Two Harbors, an unimaginatively named settlement on the island’s isthmus. With 90% of Catalina’s population in Avalon, Two Harbors is quieter and more natural, and though there are still plenty of boats docked just offshore, the rare company means you can use more of the beach. On the off chance it does get crowded on one side of the isthmus, well…there’s a reason it’s called Two Harbors.
Either community on Catalina will have locations to rent kayaks, which means the entire island is yours to explore — there are more beaches than Two Harbors, and some are worth packing a lunch and getting lost for a day. And who knows, if you get really lucky, some of the island’s 150 bison may join you.
6. The Wedge
The Wedge. Photo: Raniel Diaz
When surfing is involved, there’s no such thing as an underrated beach. Any break of decent quality has been tracked and categorized by the army of surfing fanatics along the coast, making liberal use of the “dibs” system. Maybe that’s what makes the Wedge underrated, in a sense — it’s almost too overrated for exclusivity.
Located smack at the end of the Balboa Peninsula in Newport Beach (a short drive south of downtown LA), the Wedge, watersports-wise, is something only the experienced should try. The waves there routinely reach into the 15-18ft range (or more), and the intense shore break means even skim boarders can get gobsmacked by a giant. Normally, this would mean only the experienced would even bother to go, but the mainstream location makes the Wedge a great place to watch the athletes without worrying about getting in their way.
7. San Onofre State Beach
San Onofre Beach. Photo: Justin Meissen
Maybe it’s the endearing wild hills that line the eastern side of the 5 here at the halfway point between LA and San Diego. Maybe it’s the giant mothballed nuclear reactor on the shore that looks humorously similar to a certain part of the human anatomy. But more than likely, it’s the magnificent beaches that line the coast of San Onofre. Trestles gets all the fame, being one of the best surf spots in California; Cotton’s Point, a short walk north, also stands to the challenge.
You may have heard of this section of California coast before. It’s the location of La Casa Pacifica, also known as the Western White House, where Nixon retired. He didn’t pick the location at random. The beaches in the area have a powdery white comfort to them, and combined with the nearby lazy beach town of San Clemente (try the zucchini fries from Mr. Pete’s on the way out), there are certainly worse ways to spend a post-Presidency.
8. Solana Beach
Solana Beach. Photo: SpencerHanson
When I was a kid, my parents placed me in a junior lifeguards group on Solana Beach. I spent every morning of every summer running up and down the compact sand of the low tide. It was often cloudy, and the water wasn’t typically as warm as other spots along the South Coast. When the tide was high, it went right up to the bluffs that line the beach.
These details keep many casual visitors away from Solana, a small coastal community just north of San Diego. Instead, you’ll find folks who don’t mind putting in a little effort to find places they enjoy — particularly the dawn patrol who like to catch a little pre-daylight exercise. When the pink morning sun first starts to show above the eastern horizon, there will already be troops of junior guards doing their morning routines, swim groups with their polar bear plunges, and casual joggers whose sneakers don’t even sink into the sand.
It’s certainly not for everybody, but then, the best places in life never are.
9. La Jolla Cove
La Jolla Cove. Photo: Joel Olives
Greater San Diego’s La Jolla Cove is hardly a beach. When the tide is in, the water laps the bluffs that enclose the coarse, seashell sand. The water is cold, and the floor drops swiftly into a forest of seaweed. Slippery rocks cover either side of the narrow shore. But nothing worth doing is easy, right?
As unconventional as it is, the Cove is the place to be for those in the know. It’s true draw is as one of the best access points to the colossal marine reserve jutting into the La Jolla coastline. Here, where all but kayaks are banned, swimmers can throw on a snorkel and find themselves in an alien world of garibaldis, bat rays, nurse sharks, and jellyfish.
On the other side of the sand, up the stairs and back into the town of La Jolla, there’s a large park dotted with giant Torrey pines. When the sun begins to set and the tide closes out the beach, you can escape to the green grass just in time to watch the Green Flash over the horizon. By that point, the park will be inundated with all types: families packing up, couples surreptitiously cracking a bottle of wine, young adults jogging with their dogs. It’s a microcosm of the entire population of California. Though, given how great the beaches in the state are, that’s hardly unique to the Cove. 
Our friends at Visit California asked Matador how we #dreambig in California. This post is part of a series we’re publishing to answer that question. Click here for more.
September 9, 2014
Exploring Bamiyan, Afghanistan
I love Afghanistan.
Most of all, I love Afghanistan’s mountains. Some of the most beautiful mountains in the country surround the town of Bamiyan, and after years of working in the country helping to equip and train the Afghan National Women’s Cycling Team, I was finally able to arrange a trip.
Bamiyan has consistently been one of the safest regions in Afghanistan, although it’s currently surrounded by provinces under Taliban control, which makes getting there harder than it was a few years ago. Roadside bombs, checkpoints, and eruptions of violence along the main roads into Bamiyan have become commonplace. The most convenient way in and out for internationals is by helicopter, but luckily the airstrip was recently enlarged so that small commercial flights can land.
You can follow Matador Ambassadors Shannon Galpin (@sgalpin74) and Deni Bechard (@denibechard) on Instagram.
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The view of the large Buddha niche from my window at the Silk Road Hotel
I finally arrived in Bamiyan, on a dodgy flight with East Horizon Airlines. I had heard horror stories from friends of the plane coming in swinging side to side, nearly clipping the hillside of the City of Screams on its landing, of flights taking off hours before their scheduled time without warning, and without all the passengers. The airline simply has a general feeling of unpredictability. Still, it's the only flight going, and they give you a juice box and an Iranian sponge cake for the 30-minute flight out of Kabul, so how bad can it be, right? Other than my seatbelt not working, and the entire row ahead of me not bolted into the floor securely, it was a fairly uneventful flight...apart from the landing, where I swear something bounced off the plane when we touched down.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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Standing in a side cavern at the bottom of the large niche filled with pieces of the destroyed Buddha
After dropping my bags at the guesthouse, I headed outside to start walking. The joy of walking is amplified after the self-confinement of Kabul in the wake of pre- and post-election violence this year and the continued security concerns. There have been no weekly hikes up the mountain in Kabul, no walking to cafes only a few blocks away, only the occasional ride on a motorcycle breaking the monotony. An easy 10-minute walk brought us to the large Buddha niche and the caves that surround it. At the base of the enormous niche was a fenced-off area with piles of rubble, all that’s left of the enormous Buddha that the Taliban blew up in March 2001.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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Walking the plateau above the large Buddha niche
A steep hike up the side paths, following a system of caves that were inhabited until only recently, brings us to the open plateau above the large Buddha niche. Dotted throughout the landscape are remnants of smaller buddha niches carved into the walls, less famous but just as impressive. According to mine clearance maps, this is an area officially cleared of land mines, yet every springtime, the rains unearth the occasional unexploded ordinance, so it's always important to stay on the path—although at times the path was difficult to follow, or even see. But the views? Mind blowing.
Photo: Deni Bechard
Intermission
Racing mountain bikes at Whistler with the pros
by eric warren
1
The innovation that may just get YOU commuting by bike
by Katka Lapelosa
Epic bicycle journey across Lapland
by Lindsay Clark
4
Walking around the Buddha niche
We continued past the trenches and after some scrambling through a ravine, trying not to think of landmines but keeping an eye out for shiny objects, emerged down valley near the small Buddha niche. This niche is more stable than the large one, and you're still allowed to climb the stairs leading up to a viewpoint across the entire valley. Lots of side caverns with remnants of the mosaic tiles that once covered the walls can be explored, but the piles of stones stacked and labeled at the bottom is a sobering reminder of what has been forever lost here.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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Practice ride with the Afghan National Cycling Team through town
The chance to ride newly paved, empty, peaceful roads was an opportunity I wanted to share with the team, which ordinarily is forced to train on the busy trucking highways outside of Kabul. After a morning of bike assembly, we took the bikes out for an evening test ride through town to make sure all the bikes I had brought—new racing bikes donated by Liv—bad been assembled correctly. As I was the sole bike mechanic for this trip, and a single-speed mountain biker at that, I was most concerned that the brakes worked and that I hadn’t put the derailleurs on backwards!
Photo: Deni Bechard
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Training ride with the Afghan Women’s Cycling Team
All systems go. The girls were happy with the bikes and excited to ride. So the next morning we were up early and riding as a team on the paved roads that lead out from Bamiyan. We focused on endurance, pacing, and riding in a peloton, something that's hard to focus on when you have trucks, cars, and motorcycles whizzing by at high speeds. The roads here are much more peaceful, and the girls were able to focus on riding. In the end, they rode the farthest they’ve ever ridden, and everyone was exhausted but smiling.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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Sitting beside the turquoise water of the Band e Amir lakes
The following day we hired a driver to take us out to Afghanistan’s first national park, Band e Amir. The park is of keen of interest to me beyond its renowned beauty, as the park service recently hired a team of female park rangers.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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Swan boats still tied up from the winter season
The deep turquoise lakes and the surrounding area are a favorite summer holiday spot for Afghans and expats alike to hike, swim, and picnic. Although as it was early springtime, we had the lakes and swan boats all to ourselves.
Photo: Shannon Galpin
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Where the trail seems to disappear
We followed up the trip to Band e Amir with a short visit to the Red City, Share e Zohak. I'd read a little about this place and seen a few photos and figured it would be an interesting historic stop. When we pulled up to a field across from the ruins, and looked up at the mountain in front of us, my jaw dropped. Like something out Genghis Khan's time (and in fact his grandson fought and died here), the city is built into the side of the mountain. An amazing amount of the original structures are preserved with ornate details carved into rock. We crossed the field and went up the path, looking at the fields of white rocks and some red ones, marking landmine clearance. As with the plateau above the Buddhas, springtime rains and erosion uncover and move landmines every season, so we focused on staying on trail.
Photo: Deni Bechard
Intermission
4
The art of travel by bicycle
by Hal Amen
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Sick B.C. mountain bike footage
by eric warren
Downhill mountain bike racing at Whistler
by eric warren
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The uppermost part of the Red City—our driver makes a phone call from a Soviet gun turret
The path winds its way through what was once a city, and up to the tippy-top of a lookout fort from which you can survey the entire valley. An old Soviet gun turret still rests at the top. Tired, hungry, and dusty, we headed back down through the oncoming dusk, past the roadside guards who waved as we drove to the guesthouse.
Photo: Shannon Galpin
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Riding through the outskirts of Bamiyan with the Screaming City in the background
We woke at first light for an early morning ride through town and up to the City of Screams. Share e Gholghola was conquered by Genghis Khan, and the noise from the violence that ensued earned the citadel the ominous name. It once held another Buddha, and today makes for a visually fascinating hike through a period of history few get to experience due to Afghanistan’s insecurity and ongoing conflict.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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At the entrance to the City of Screams
We offered the security guards our bikes to take a spin, proving once again that bikes make the best conversation starters. Everyone loves to ride a bike.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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A stark reminder that the dangers in Afghanistan go beyond the Taliban and security
We spent the afternoon riding to the Foladi Caves, amusing the curious local men and boys who occasionally rode with us, and finally climbing back up the mountain behind the Buddhas to continue to play on the bikes on the plateau we'd hiked and take in the breathtaking views again. This time, I ventured off the trail and swiftly encountered a reminder that landmine clearance is never 100% in the mountains. A shiny object I rode past turns out to be a small UXO. I took a photo and sent it off to a friend in the military to inquire about its potential for damage, and he assured me it’s enough to blow off a foot and that I should report it so a mine clearance team can sweep the area.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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5am search for snow with two of the newest female skiers in the province
We drove out to a remote valley with Sajat, one of the ski guides who works in Bamiyan. Parking the car, we hiked the rest of the way up to the snow line on foot. The girls were just learning to turn, but their huge smiles showed their enthusiasm. It reminds me of why I taught my daughter to ski in Breckenridge a few years ago, the mix of fear and elation coexisting in the same expression.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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Walking back down for breakfast with the girls
On the way back down, I talked with the girls about skiing, sports, and school. One of them knew how to ride bikes too, so we made plans to have her join our evening ride with Zahra, a young Afghan woman and university student at the women’s college who's teaching girls to ride bikes in Bamiyan.
Photo: Deni Bechard
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A group gathers to ask Zahra questions
We met by the Buddhas and rode for an hour or so, collecting quite the crowd as we went. A group of young boys immediately joined our gang of three, and a series of impromptu races kicked up dust as our motley crew sprinted from one end of the field to the other. A young group of girls watched us curiously—perhaps girls that Zahra will be able to get on bikes someday?
Photo: Deni Bechard
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An evening ride turned race with the local boys
As dusk fell, one of the younger boys told me that since he rode with us, he was going to go home to teach his sister to ride. That is progress. One step at a time. In a country that's just starting to see girls ride bikes, that still considers bike riding culturally offensive, Zahra and girls like her will continue to lead the charge, teaching girls to ride, riding herself, and setting an example that Afghan girls can do anything they choose to, even ride a bike.
Photo: Deni Bechard
Glowing trees: The new streetlights
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The latest development in the field of “Oh crap, the future is here” technology is Dutch designer Daan Roosegaarde’s bioluminescent streetlights.
Roosegaarde and a group of researchers have taken bioluminescence from animals like fireflies and jellyfish and merged it with the leaves of plants and trees. The idea behind it is to turn the trees into totally energy-neutral streetlights. The glow would take the place of our current incandescent lights and turn our world into something out of Avatar.
Watch the video to see Roosegaarde’s explanation of the ideas behind the streetlight, and how he thinks we’re heading into an age where technology and nature merge. 
33 maps to change your worldview
EVEN IN THE AGE OF THE INFOGRAPHIC, maps are still the undisputed champion of conveying information visually. True, many maps — including some of the ones on this list — don’t really tell you anything you can use in your life in a meaningful way. You’re just not going to find a practical use for knowing which countries have names that end in the letter A, or which American lake is the home to a mythical eel pig, or whether or not Coloradans hate the LA Lakers.
On the other hand, maps can transmit immensely important political and cultural information. How does culture shift over time? Which areas will be the worst off if sea levels rise? How many countries recognize Palestine as a sovereign state?
I’m of the opinion that all knowledge — useful or otherwise — is worth knowing, so both types are on this list. Enjoy.
1. Most popular beers by country
The next time you hear an Englishman talking about how Americans like shitty beer, point out that England’s favorite beer — despite a pantheon of other incredible options — is Carling. Most countries seem to prefer watery beers, most notably Saudi Arabia, where alcohol is illegal and the Beck’s is non-alcoholic.
Image via
2. The richest person in each US state
Who is the richest person in your state? And how much do you need to save to beat them?
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3. Lake monsters of America
Atlas Obscura, cataloguer of the world’s weird-ass shit, put together this excellent map of the many supposed lake monsters of the United States. While Nessie-style sea serpents are by far the most popular, Americans have reported sightings of goat men, eel pigs, and aquatic lynxes as well. Check out their site for a more in-depth breakdown.
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4. What’s across the ocean from you
When we were kids, we’d sit on the beach in Florida and ask our parents what was on the other side. “You’re looking at England!” they’d say. Well, no. We were looking at the Western Sahara, or maybe Morocco. We’d have to be in Nova Scotia or Quebec to be looking at England. Here’s a map to help keep you from making the same mistakes. Note that parts of Chile and Greenland are looking across the oceans at themselves.
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5. The movements of important people over a lifetime
You can tell a lot about where cultural shifts are happening by showing where famous or important people were born, and where they died. This video shows hundreds of years of culture using that simple measurement. Give it a watch.
See more like this: 57 maps that will challenge what you thought you knew about the world
6. The world with a melted Antarctic
National Geographic has an awesome interactive version of this map on their site, but it’s interesting to see the areas that would be the most affected by a massive rise in sea level caused by climate change. The continent that appears to be the least affected is Africa.
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7. Your country (during Pangea)
You’ve probably seen maps of Pangea — the super-continent where most of the world’s land mass was bunched together hundreds of millions of years ago. But who would your neighbors have been? The East Coast of the United States would have been next door to Mauritania and the Western Sahara, while India would have been scrunched up with Antarctica.
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8. A reunited Pan-Latin America
The history of how a large chunk of the United States was once part of the much larger Spanish Empire is, unfortunately, not that well known.
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9. Composite map of 30 people’s attempts to draw the world
Because we like to feel smarter than other people, and because Jay Leno is done with his Jaywalking sketch, we now have the internet phenomenon of asking people to try and draw or label maps of the world. This Reddit user actually made it slightly clever by creating a composite of the maps he received, and making it look like a real map of the world.
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10. US GDP split in half
Despite being a pretty huge country, the vast majority of economic activity in the United States occurs in its major cities. It should be noted that Denver, Cleveland, and Atlanta are all in the blue area.
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11. Countries ending in -land (in the English language)
Not all maps need to contain useful information, but I think this map is interesting because it illustrates how many of these places (and places without “land” in their name) are named not after the land itself, but after the people in the country.
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12. Countries ending in the letter A (in the English language)
English speakers love ending countries in “A.” What else is there to be said?
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See more like this: 36 maps that will make you see the world in completely new ways
13. European states with equal populations
A popular map experiment is to redivide existing areas to be “equipopulous.” Basically, what would the countries in a certain region look like if they all had the same population? It’s already been done for the United States (check it out, it’s fascinating); here it is with the countries of the European Union.
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14. Countries that recognize the state of Palestine
One of the oddities of becoming a state is that you can’t really become one until other nations agree to it. Due to its controversial relationship with Israel, Palestine is not officially recognized as a state by much of the Western world. What’s interesting, though, is how much of the rest of the world does recognize Palestine.
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15. States with the most state pride
Okay, full disclosure: The methodology for this map’s data is sketchy at best. It’s actually a measure of the percentage of a state’s population that “Likes” the state on Facebook. Not super scientifically valid — people could have simply visited Texas and really liked it, but they may not have any real pride in the state. My home state, Ohio, is the #1 winner. More specific rankings are available on Movoto.
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16. The world’s empires before WWI
Seeing as 2014 is the centennial of the start of World War I, this map seems particularly timely. These are the major empires of the world just prior to the war. After 1914, everything changed.
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17. The world split up into billions
Our global population is now estimated to be closer to 7.2 billion people, but the most fascinating aspect of this map is the insane concentrations of populations in places like South and East Asia, and the relatively low population densities of the Americas.
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18. World civilizations since 3000 BC
A really great depiction of how empires formed, grew, and collapsed over time has been waiting for the YouTube era. With a slightly better music choice, this video could’ve been perfect.
19. Countries where over 50% of the population is religious
Even though we constantly hear stories about how atheism and agnosticism are on the rise, most countries are still pretty religious. The only major, glaring exceptions are communist countries or formerly communist countries (though Cuba is actually still very religious), and countries where we just don’t have enough information to be able to tell.
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20. Italian wine regions
You probably know the names of some famous French wines like Bordeaux or Champagne. French wines clearly have good publicists. But Italian wines, despite being of a similar level of quality, aren’t as well known outside the wine world. Here’s a primer for the regions of Italian wines and the varietals they produce.
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21. How many beers can you buy (in Europe) with your minimum wage?
Living on minimum wage is the worst, so naturally, you just want to drink all the time. But in some countries, you really can’t buy all that much beer each month. I think the British Isles and Germany are safe, but Georgians can only afford 36 beers per month — just a little over one per day. Ouch.
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See more like this: 20 maps that will change the way you see the world
22. Europe’s biggest companies
Knowing which company is a country’s biggest can tell you a lot about that country and its economy. See how many of these you can recognize.
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23. Pot usage by US state
One important thing to note about this map is that Colorado and Washington hadn’t implemented (or even passed) their pot legalization laws at the time this data was taken.
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24. The most hated NBA teams by state
Look, everyone hates the Lakers and the Heat, but it’s the few exceptions on this map that are really interesting.
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25. The most hated NHL teams by state
The most hated NHL teams is a little more diverse than the most hated NBA teams, but it’s still pretty clear who people hate the most.
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26. The most hated NFL teams by state
It’s a sad day when you realize your team — say, the Cincinnati Bengals — has never been good enough for any state to develop a really strong hatred of them.
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27. The world’s open borders
The world is pretty far off from having open borders ever being a thing — but some residents of some countries can freely travel across their frontiers into other countries. Here are the places where that holds true.
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28. Countries governed by authoritarian regimes
In 2012, The Economist listed the world’s authoritarian regimes. There are more left than you’d think. The darker the shade, the more dictatorial.
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29. Countries with ongoing conflicts
Wikimedia does a great job of keeping this map updated — this version is for August 2014. The orange-yellow color means there are fewer than 1,000 deaths a year in that conflict; the red means more than 1,000.
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30. The CDC on which countries have safe drinking water
Probably the most clichéd travel advice is “don’t drink the water.” Here’s where it’s true, according to the Centers for Disease Control.
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31. US rivers named after colors
You’d think the famous “Green River” from Creedence Clearwater Revival would be on this list, but it turns out the song actually refers to Putah Creek near Winters, California.
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32. Countries the US is sanctioning
There have been plenty of news stories lately about the US and Europe sanctioning Russia, but that’s not even close to the only country we’re currently wagging our finger at.
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33. Where it’s okay to travel (according to France)
A lot of countries give their citizens foreign travel advice. Here’s where France thinks you should and shouldn’t go. This information is as of November 2013, and so Ukraine is yellow and just at the beginning of its protest movement.
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How Ethiopia taught me to get over myself
Photo: Rod Waddington
In 2010, I spent two months in a remote outpost of Awash National Park, Ethiopia, while conducting fieldwork for a research project on baboon social structure. I lived in a one-person tent with no running water, electricity, or contact with the outside world. And with no one from home being able to see me, either, let’s just say I got a little rough around the edges.
I’m glad, because I picked up some important truths.
I learned to let go.
I came down with a raging case of amoebic dysentery halfway through my trip. GI distress is unpleasant enough in the privacy of your own home, but the lack of running water, climate control, and general personal space at my field site made it unbearable.
I can still hear Mat, the project manager, yelling: “Are you sick? Were you having DIARRHEA?!” at the top of his lungs as I came slinking back from the toilet for the eighth time that morning.
I felt like a horrifying failure on many levels: for not being tough enough, for wasting a valuable workday at the hospital, for being generally gross. At some point, though, all the talking about it normalized the situation.
I remember sitting in our truck outside the hospital, close to tears, and then feeling terrible about that when I zoomed out on the whole thing and realized how hilarious and ridiculous the situation was. Mostly, I realized that everyone poops, everyone knows that everyone poops, and for the most part, no one cares.
Now I talk about pooping too much.
I learned to forget about mirrors.
Women seem both to take on, and have put upon them, an inordinate responsibility to look good at all times. The baseline upkeep — hair, makeup, clothes, plucking, waxing, shaving — consumes a lot of time and money, even for the “low maintenance” among us.
This presents an additional, silly obstacle to anything we want to do in public, particularly when traveling to an unfamiliar place. My hair can’t handle that humidity. How can I put on makeup in the morning if there aren’t any bathrooms? I can’t go out looking like that.
In Ethiopia, I learned to neutralize this concern. There’s nothing like waking up, putting on your shorts and boots, grabbing your backpack and a piece of bread, and just starting your day.
I learned that I’m tough, and that just about anyone can be, too.
Right before I left Germany for Ethiopia, one of my professors had been telling me increasingly disturbing stories about the last girl who tried to work at this site. Within days of arrival, this girl developed a severe allergic reaction to sunblock and all her skin blistered off. She got her period for weeks on end. She passed out from heat exhaustion so constantly during the daylong treks that it was impossible for her to collect any data. Ultimately, she abandoned her project and started working with a different baboon study population in South Africa.
“And she was a marathon runner, too. Not an ounce of fat on her,” this professor had said, raising an eyebrow at my little layer of bratwurst-derived winter insulation.
I smiled and nodded, while freaking out inside. I can not be like that girl, I thought. For the next month, I trudged around in shin-deep snow in Leipzig with a hiking backpack full of books, determined not to embarrass myself in Ethiopia.
The first day at the site was a little rough, and my body was sore that week, but I adjusted. I learned that you don’t have to be a marathon runner to be able to walk around outside for most of the day. People have lived outdoors for millions of years. Most of the time, the anticipation is the worst thing about it.
I learned to embrace new things.
Before I moved to Ethiopia, I had never really gone camping. While this led to some equipment mishaps (like sleeping in a coffin-sized tent for two months because I didn’t think to purchase a bigger one), I caught on to the routine pretty quickly. More or less, you do what you do at home, except more of it is outdoors.
I’d never driven stick before, but when Mat decided to turn over the wheel of our rickety manual truck while we were jolting down a flooded dirt road, I went for it. I managed to not careen into a tree or get jammed in the mud, which was more than could be said for some of the scouts who tried.
I learned that I am mortal.
For much of my time in Ethiopia, I felt invincible. This led to some overconfidence at several points, and in those moments, awareness of my own human fragility was overwhelming.
When I lay alternately boiling and shivering in my tent, racked with amoeba-driven fever and wild hallucinations, I felt sure I was going to die or suffer brain damage. On my first night, I lay awake with my buck knife in hand, listening to lions roaring in the distance, certain they would come pick us off. When an Afar man casually waved his perpetually misfiring Kalashnikov in my direction, I realized how quickly I could be removed from this earth. I attended the first funeral of my life in Ethiopia, for one of the park scouts who was shot by a member of another tribe.
I learned the limits of my own identity.
Living among Ethiopians for two months did not make me Ethiopian. I wasn’t a part of their struggles and couldn’t speak for them. I grew up with more access to everything — clean water, food, medicine, education, protection from violence — than most people I met there. If I were really sick, I would have been medevaced out of there in a heartbeat. I came into my fieldwork healthy, vaccinated, armed with malaria prophylaxis, and protected in a way that the people I worked with were not.
At the same time, being female in a place where we don’t get much autonomy or respect, my movement was restricted in a way I have never experienced before. In such a wild, free place, I couldn’t do anything without Mat or Teklu coming with me. When Mat was away for a few days, I couldn’t even take the five-minute trip to the hot springs to bathe, so I had to content myself with tepid, insect-strewn well water until he returned. One of my favorite things about travel is that feeling of autonomy, and the loss of freedom was sometimes stifling.
I learned that perspective and humor are the best antidotes to mortification and a profoundly shitty day.
Being around a bunch of turd-talking hooligans allowed me to blow off some steam. Everything was a lot easier because I didn’t have to go through the social formalities of looking nice and being polite — I just focused on doing what I could to feel better. When I was sick, I didn’t have to deal with the double-challenge of feeling terrible and also having to lie about why.
I learned how much my own feelings about a situation depend on the context. Why was I finding being tricked into eating a goat testicle funny? When I finally got near a mirror and saw the accumulation of rashes, infected mosquito bites, greasy hair, week-old leg stubble, and weird sunburns I’d accumulated over two months, why did I react with laughter and not horror?
Because it is what it is, and at some point you just have to suck it up and deal with it. All your crying isn’t going to make you look nicer or feel better. It isn’t going to get you a cold drink or a TV if you’re out in the middle of nowhere. Laugh it off and focus on something else. 
22 signs you're an expat in China
Photo: Phil Chambers
1. Overhearing nigguh no longer stops you in your tracks.
那个(pronounced “na ge”) and 这个(pronounced “zhe ge”) mean “that one” and “this one” and are generally the first things you learn upon arrival in China. There’s also the disconcerting, repetitive “ne guh ne guh ne guh” which is used as a Chinese way of saying “umm…”
2. Hearing mei you still pisses you off.
The lazy answer to everything. 没有 (pronounced “mei you”) literally means “I don’t have.” It is rarely followed by an explanation or any further information.
3. You’ve given up on shopping for clothes.
It’s true that a multitude of cheap options can be found when shopping in China. Unfortunately, I’m 5’8” and wear a size 10 shoe. If you’re an average-sized Westerner, clothes shopping of any sort is out of the question. Any additions to my wardrobe arrive in beautiful care packages from mom.
4. You’re tired of being interrogated by taxi drivers.
“Are you married? Why not? How much money do you make each month? At least $10,000, right?”
Although culturally acceptable to begin with these questions, I’ll never get used to it.
5. You have a mask for high-pollution days and a pollution app on your phone.
There’s no escaping the smog that looms over Shanghai. Sadly enough, it’s become a part of the skyline. An Air Quality Index of 150-200 is the norm in Shanghai. A level that would severely alarm any city outside of China.
6. You know all bar and restaurant awards are paid for, yet you still tout them as the “best in the city.”
We all know these awards go to the highest bidder, yet we continue to go to that restaurant over another because “City Weekend says they have the best burgers.”
7. You refer to your Chinese friends as bananas.
White (read: mentality) on the inside. Yellow on the outside. A diamond in the rough!
8. You’ve run out of BS answers to the question: “So you think you’ll stay forever?”
Fair enough. I came for one year, three-and-a-half years ago. But no one will readily admit that they might never leave.
9. You’ve conceded to paying luxury prices for mediocre products.
China’s cheap if you want to fully immerse yourself and try to “be one of them.” It’s far from cheap if you want to indulge in anything remotely foreign.
10. You no longer notice when a small fender bender blocks traffic. For miles.
Seriously. You can take pictures, argue, and wait for the police on the side of the road.
11. You know better than to play chicken with the bus drivers.
Pedestrians do not have the right-of-way. Buses will speed up and probably not honk before shifting their ankle to the left to brake for you.
12. You can actually provide numerous examples for when you realized you were living in a communist country.
Always the question from folks back home. No, I don’t have propaganda in my face daily, but, yes, I do notice when the government steps in occasionally. Most often when I want to check Facebook. Or YouTube. Or Snapchat. Or Tinder.
13. You realize it’s no use waiting for the green light.
In an organized society, green traffic lights are not generously handed out to all that desire, but rather a group of vehicles all traveling in the same direction. If it happens to be offered to another lucky bunch of steel, they most certainly do not have the priority and must wait until their path is clear.
In China, a green light is generally given to everyone in smaller intersections, left-turning traffic and pedestrians included. Those of us on scooters, bicycles, or, heaven forbid, risking transportation on foot, must be diligently cautious or aggression will ensue. The term ‘right-of-way’ does not yet exist in the Chinese vocabulary.
14. You no longer have any quandaries elbowing Granny Zhang in order to exit the metro/elevator.
I get it, there’s an empty seat way over yonder that you (and 20 other people) have your eye on, but even on the elevator? Why must I fight my way off?
15. You now realize those old people helping people park their cars are a necessity.
Old — I assume retired — folks are always hanging out along the street. As soon as a car approaches, they run over to direct them on how to park properly and, of course, collect their due. Parking meters don’t exist and parallel parking seems to be an anomaly to the citizens of the Middle Kingdom.
16. In three guesses or less, you know the profession of every expat in the room.
The majority of expats in China fit into a three job categories: education, trade, and architecture/design. We either assume we know or don’t even bother asking.
17. You’re selective while handing out friendship vibes.
Living abroad is interesting because you’re always meeting so many new people. Said new people are also always coming and going. Learning that someone is only “here for a few months” often zaps the energy needed to develop a new, meaningful friendship.
18. You’re severely lacking in outside world information.
Censorship is real, folks. If I find out at all, it hardly qualifies as breaking news.
19. “Get to know you” conversations are shockingly short and highly predictable.
What do you do here? “So where do you teach?”
Where are you from? “Which city in Italy are you from?”
How did you learn Chinese? “So you studied in Jiaotong University? Ah, Fudan, right on.”
You can skip right over those mundane questions. Observe for 10 seconds and you’ll already know that she’s a teacher because she’s drunk on a Monday night. Her Italian accent is super obvious (but cute). And she just ordered a round of beers and tequila shots flawlessly in Chinese.
20. You’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to pay substantially more for an Apple product.
True story. Not everything is cheaper in China.
21. You’re still shocked at how much affluent Chinese pay for luxury cars.
Due to taxes and import costs, an Audi R8 in the United States might run you $100,000. In China, expect something more like $380,000.
22. And you’re totally baffled when you see who actually steps out of those luxury cars.
In the United States, I generally imagine a James Bond-like scene when seeing a luxury car zoom past my street side table outside of my favorite café. Driver revs engine, attracts everyone’s attention. Said driver screeches to a halt in front of the fanciest hotel in the city, he tosses his keys to the valet staff on his way in for his 3pm martini on the rocks. He’s wearing a tuxedo, maybe even a diamond studded watch on his left wrist.
In Shanghai, they drive so slow that you’re unsure as to whether they’re new to driving or are just simply extra careful. The old man from #16 rushes over and they work on parallel parking while you order (and finish) another beer. Then, as the driver steps out, you’re at a loss for words. There in front of you stands a 28 year old that doesn’t know how to brush his hair let alone dress himself.
You can only assume the car was stolen. 
Colorado's backcountry from the air
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AERIAL PHOTOGRAPHY ALLOWS ME to take my cameras where nobody has ever been before, and capture scenes from vantage points that have never been seen by the human eye. This is what truly excites me. This is what pushes me to hike thousands of vertical feet, tens of miles of terrain, all with a quadcopter and a pack of batteries (think bricks) on my back — along with all the other gear that I’ll be needing.
It’s a serious commitment, but the reward is unrivaled. The following video is a compilation of footage from several areas around Colorado, including Rocky Mountain National Park, Boulder Flatirons, and Mount of the Holy Cross. Enjoy! 
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