Matador Network's Blog, page 2220

The Temple Guardians of Burning Man

Dear Guardians – A Burning Man Short Film from Ian MacKenzie on Vimeo.

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THE STORIES I HEAR about Burning Man are nothing short of sensational. Stories about crazy drug trips, of sex with strangers, fake marriages, blackouts, and beyond — sometimes I wonder if I’d really be able to handle seven days of complete debauchery. The Temple of Burning Man seems like the kind of place I would really be able to connect in though, and I admire the work that the Temple Guardians do, especially amongst the chaos. Sometimes in an overwhelming situation (either positive or negative), all we need is someone to reach out and let us know they are there.

7 confessions of a commuter

Photo: Mirkuz

I commute to work every day on public transit. I also did this for two years during university. Most of the time, it’s all good. I enjoy the hour / hour and a half to myself in the mornings, where I read the news or indulge in a good book, and on the return I catch some zzz’s while obnoxiously listening to Beyoncé’s newest album on repeat.

However, there are certain things I think on the train that I should come clean about:

1. If you look like you have a cold, I won’t sit beside you.

I’m not a germaphobe by any means, but I can’t handle it when someone’s blowing their nose all in my face, sneezing without covering their mouth, and horking in a handkerchief to my left, right, and centre.

Obviously, we all get sick. We all have days when we sneeze unexpectedly and grotesque bits of phlegm fly out of our noses and throats. If you’re sick and taking transit with others, be considerate of their space and try not to breathe, sneeze, cough, or hork on them. Ew.

2. I get nervous when I see an older person who might need a seat.

I had this troubling experience when I asked an older gentleman if he wanted to take my seat, and instead of saying, “No, thank you,” he screamed, “I’m not old!” This resulted in a busload of people staring at me in either disgust (they didn’t hear the conversation due to having headphones in) or pity. I know the right thing to do is to get up and offer my seat, but I’m terrified I’ll get yelled at again just for trying to be polite.

3. I judge people who choose an aisle seat instead of the empty window seat.

This makes life so challenging for anyone who’d like to sit down. Not only do they have to wiggle through the tiny space between the aisle seat patron’s legs and the dividing board, but they also have to suck in their gut and pull their bag awkwardly for fear of smashing it in their soon-to-be seat buddy’s face.

It’s one thing if you’re getting off in a few stops and don’t want to trouble anyone else, but if you’re there for the long haul, be smart about it and respectful to someone else who might want to sit down.

4. I want to scream when drivers try to overload the streetcar.

When the streetcar stops to load more people and the automated, “For customer convenience, please move back,” message keeps playing, all while the driver shouting, “Behind the yellow line! Please stand clear of the doors! Get off the steps or else the doors won’t close and we can’t move,” I want to turn around to the 6,000 people trying to board the car and yell a) there is no room, wait for the next one, and b) if someone seriously thinks they’re going to get on with their truckload of groceries at 5:42pm on a Thursday evening, they’re deeply mistaken.

5. I feel this overwhelming sense of confidence when walking down the aisle of a public transit vehicle.

I’m probably thinking, Driver, roll up the partition please, even though I have no personal driver, nor do any of the vehicles I travel on have a partition (and they probably never will).

Yet, there’s something empowering about grabbing a sweet seat, keeping my balance throughout the entire ride, and knowing where to get off that gives me this Yoncé alter-ego who’s all, Me, myself and I, it’s all I got in the end. That’s what I found out. The best moments are when I’ve applied fresh red lipstick and my bangs are looking on point, or when I’m wearing shoes with a bit of wedge.

6. I’m in awe when I see someone with children or a pet.

The kids probably have their arms flailing in the air, screaming, “I DON’T LIKE THIS TRAIN, DAD” and chomping on cereal that’s going absolutely everywhere on dad’s work clothes, and, yet, there are parents throughout Toronto (and other cities) who just do it and don’t sweat it. Damn. I hope one day I’m like you.

Secondly, when pet owners have their dog, cat, bird, or who knows what other animal on board with them, I mentally give them kudos for all their patience and confidence.

7. When I see a couple making out, I look away in disgust (after accidentally staring at them).

There’s one couple I see every morning who stare at each other so intently, whispering sweet nothings the entire ride. The male partner gets off the subway first. When he kisses his lady goodbye, it’s one of those long, lingering, tongue-filled kisses that shouldn’t be shared with other people, never mind strangers. Every time I see them I roll my eyes and try to find a seat far, far away.

This article originally appeared on A Quarter Young and is republished here with permission.

Global tipping cheat sheet

ONE OF THE most common questions I get when people ask me to help them plan a trip, is how much to tip in a certain country. When I was in Oslo, my waitress told me that tipping is definitely expected in Norway. But while living in Prague, we weren’t expected to leave a dedicated tip, just round up to the nearest koruna. I think the most important thing to remember, is that tipping is not universal by continent — nor is it universal within the country as well.

I like this infographic because I feel like it’s really comprehensive, and provides enough information without seeming overwhelming. While I don’t think I’ll ever be the kind of person to not leave a tip, at least I can ask questions to locals in the countries I’m skeptical about, to avoid embarrassment in places like Japan.

Image via Visual.ly. Click to enlarge.

8 travel lessons from your cat

Photo: Erin Dage

1. Always take the window seat.

My cat always finds the best seat in the house, and that seat is always right by the window. Sure, an aisle seat may be tempting, especially if you frequent the bathroom and you’re on a nine-hour flight to Austria — but when you touch down in a country you’ve never seen before, you don’t want the two people on your right to be blocking 70% of your view.

Whether you’re on a plane to Uruguay, a train from Amsterdam to London, or in a Parisian cafe, the best seat is where you can see everything that’s happening around you.

2. Nap anywhere you can.

Cats sleep 16-20 hours a day, because being “king of the household” is pretty damn exhausting. Traveling can also be exhausting, especially if you’re saving money by opting for connecting flights and early-morning travel times. So if you can sneak a quick nap in on the bus ride from Vienna to Prague or sprawl out on a rock by the water at the Swiss National Park, do it.

Who knows if you’ll actually be getting any shuteye at your hostel after binge drinking with Australian backpackers all night.

3. Always be alert.

Think your cat isn’t paying attention? Drop something that rolls, dangles, or makes a noise, and I guarantee your cat will spring into action.

In travel, it’s important to be aware of your surroundings. If you’re in an almost empty metro car, should that guy really be standing so close to you? The man you asked for directions says he knows a faster route, but how could this be a shortcut if he’s leading you farther away from the action at Camden Market? Use your gut; if something doesn’t seem right, get out.

4. Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want (especially if what you want is food).

No matter what time of morning it is, if my cat’s hungry, she makes it known — by meowing, licking me, and, if all else fails, knocking the heaviest things her little paws can push off of my dresser until she gets fed.

If you’re traveling in Poland and don’t speak the language, point at whatever delicious food you want but can’t even begin to pronounce. I definitely need my fill of krischickies, and I won’t leave until someone sells them to me.

5. Take time to people watch.

There’s nothing my cat loves more than sitting for hours on end watching our neighbors go about their business. There’s also no better way to immerse yourself in a culture than to watch the locals out and about, living life.

Take some time to watch the street vendors sell to their regular customers at Chandni Chowk in Delhi, observe the passengers on the boats of the Stockholm canal, and appreciate the way Italians greet each other at the Caffè della Pace.

6. Keep yourself clean.

My cat’s coat is shinier than Beyoncé’s weave because she spends about half her day tending to it (my cat, not Beyoncé). No one likes a smelly traveler — especially not on a six-hour bus ride from Rio to São Paulo.

Clean yourself on the regular (even if it means braving the scuzzy hostel bathroom), and make sure your hair is always silky smooth. You don’t need to pack a lot of grooming supplies for the road, but you don’t need to look slovenly either.

7. Stretch early, stretch often.

Cats are more flexible than any yogi could ever aspire to be because they stretch before and after pretty much everything they do. If you don’t immediately take the biggest, longest stretch you can possibly take when waking up after napping on the flight from Brazil to Argentina, or after eating your weight in chole bhature in India, or at least every 30 minutes on the seven-and-a-half-hour bus ride from Athens to Thessaloniki, your cat would say you’re doing it wrong.

8. Don’t be afraid to travel alone.

My cat prefers to experience new things on her own — whether it’s an empty box or a bag of groceries I left unattended. Don’t wait for someone to get on board with your travel plans. That saying about how curiosity killed the cat is complete BS. Don’t let other people get in the way of your awesome travel experiences, because most people don’t die from booking that two-week trip to Taiwan, that road trip down the California coastline, or even that long-weekend getaway to Toronto.

5 insane drinking games

Photo: Michael Mooney

Pennsylvania, USA – Stump

Stump is a popular game played in an area of Pennsylvania referred to as “Pennsyltucky,” a nickname given to the region by people in Philadelphia and Pittsburgh to describe the rural countryside between those two cities. Stump is a favorite among college students, especially at Penn State, and is played in the forests or on farms throughout the Pennsyltucky region.

Stump finds its roots in a German drinking game called Hammerschlagen, meaning “to hit with a hammer.” To play you need a hammer, a tree stump, nails, beer, and skillful aim. Each player must hammer a nail halfway into the stump, so that it can stand on its own without falling out.

Once the arena is set, it’s you versus everyone else. Each player takes turns throwing the hammer into the air, catching it, and in one swift movement hammering an opponent’s nail into the stump. If the player hammers in the opponent’s nail, the opponent must drink. If sparks fly from the strike, everyone drinks. And if the player misses, he or she must drink. There are plenty of rules, conditions, and other nuances of the game, but it all varies by region.

Germany – Bierkastenrennen

Literally translating to “beer crate running,” this game combines two favorite activities among Germans: running and drinking. To play, everyone breaks into teams of two, and they’re given a case of beer. A course is set, usually around a lake or field — the distance is typically 5km to 15km. The objective of the game is to not only be the first team to cross the finish line, but the first team to do it with a finished case of beer.

There are plenty of strategies: Teams can finish the beer first then run the course; run the course and finish the beer just before crossing the finish line; or have one person drink while the other person carries the case, switching off throughout the course. But most Germans who play the sport carry the case together, and both teammates drink and run simultaneously.

Russia – Tiger Has Come

In a game called Tiger Has Come, Russians combine gambling with heavy drinking. To play, everyone sits at a table and places their bet on the table. Throughout the evening, the game leader will say “tiger has come.” Each player must then hide under the table and take a shot of vodka. They’re only allowed to come back up when the leader announces the tiger’s left. Once the tiger’s left, each player has to get back up to his or her seat and place another bet on the table.

This continues throughout the night until there’s one person left who can still get up from under the table. The winner gets to keep the money but also must host the next game and supply the vodka.

China – Jiuling

The game of Jiuling is about 3,200 years old, making it the world’s oldest drinking game and the Chinese the forefathers of competition drinking.

To play, drinkers need a glass of beer, fingers, and math skills. Players begin by holding up a certain number of fingers behind their backs. Each player tries to guess the combined number of fingers being held up. Whoever guesses the closest to the correct answer gets to enjoy their victory by watching the losers drink. The game heats up the longer it progresses, as math skills become compromised the more players drink!

Wyoming, USA — Gelande Quaffing

Like most drinking games, this one exists purely because there was nothing else better to do at the time of its invention. In 1986 the Jackson Hole Air Force, a secret ski club in Wyoming, was trapped in a bar waiting out a blizzard. Naturally, to pass the time, club members spent their entrapment drinking. With every order, the bartender would slide a freshly poured draft down the bar for the patron to catch. During one of the orders, someone accidentally let their glass slide off the end of the bar, but they were able to catch it just before it hit the ground. It was an epic move that the entire bar tried to reenact, thusly creating the game Gelande Quaffing.

Twenty-eight years later, this game’s become a semi-organized sporting event with timed rounds and a point system based off how stylish the catches are. Two teams of four members try to see how many beers they can slide to each other and drink before the time runs out. This is a game where everyone comes out as a winner, having drunk his or her fill of beer and having a fun time while doing so. Even spectators get a good show.

The Mostar Bridge Diving Competition

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MY PARENTS CONVINCED ME not to study abroad in Bosnia and Herzegovina when I was in college. While I don’t regret my time spent in the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Poland, part of me wishes I had “accidentally” filled out the wrong application. The Mostar Bridge jump is one of those reasons — while I probably won’t be diving there myself, I think the 46-year old diving competition would be amazing to watch. Only skilled professionals make the leap, as the bridge’s clearance below is over 65 feet, and the water below is too cold for normal swimming.

The bridge was destroyed during the War in Bosnia and Herzegovina, in 1993. Before then, it had stood for 427 years. It was reopened in 2004, and the diving competition began once again.

Finding her grandson after 36 years

Members of the Mothers and Grandmothers of Plaza del Mayo march in Buenos Aires.
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Editor’s note: Estela de Carlotto is president of the Grandmothers of Plaza del Mayo, a human rights group who searches for the children of mothers who were “disappeared” by the military dictatorship during Argentina’s Dirty War (1976-1983). Estella’s daughter Laura was abducted in 1977 while pregnant, and later killed after giving birth in a military hospital. Laura’s mutilated corpse was returned to the de Carlotto family, but her captors appropriated the baby, whose legal name was Guido, and for 36 years Estella never knew what happened to him.

TO FEEL HAPPINESS through another person. Is that not the definition of love? But what if that person is not known? Or rather, known but never met. Never touched. Never spoken to. Is it still possible then to define love this way?

It is possible. On Tuesday August 5, 2014, that shared happiness went through all of Argentina. Our whole country swayed in an embrace. Falling tears, renewed hope: Estela de Carlotto, president of Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo, announced that, after 36 years of searching, she had found her grandson Guido.

Her eyes translated for us 36 years of struggle that would be impossible to put into words. The eyes of a mother who did not succumb to the pain of losing her daughter. Who invested her energy, love, and time finding answers. In creating possibilities. The spirit of a woman who never spoke of revenge but justice. To never let death win the tug of war with hope. All that was there, in the face of Estela Barnes de Carlotto, seconds before starting the press conference.

And then she spoke. And then it was true. “It’s a prize for everyone.” Guido had looked for her. The poetry enclosing that fact is immense: Guido looked for his grandmother. That grandmother who never lost hope of finding him. He found her. The circle was closed with an ending that’s really a start. “I didn’t want to die without hugging him,” confessed Estela. And all ran to embrace our loved ones. We sent messages, called. We shared that moment. And in some way — and thanks to Estela’s generosity — it belonged to everyone.

But why is this particular case so emotional? Each of the 113 grandchildren recovered and reunited with their families marked a path. What seemed impossible was repeated 113 times. Each was a step towards memory, truth, and justice, values ​​that for many years had been eradicated from our reality. Little by little, Estela became a symbol of that repair. A personification of the fight, the tenacity that so many women have carried forward. We all know the story of Laura, her daughter, kidnapped three months pregnant, murdered by the dictatorship shortly after giving birth to a boy. We all know the story of Estela, seeking untiringly that baby born in captivity in a clandestine concentration camp in 1978, snatched, stolen, ripped, not only from the arms of his mother, but also his family.

Each time she appeared with a recovered grandchild, we all felt so many emotions. She was the one responsible for giving the news in each of the 113 cases. Her face is the emblem, the flag always high.

During all these years, we were confounded by her perseverance, patience, love, strength. Where does she get the energy? How does she keep going?

The answer lived in Olavarría. Long in coming but finally here. And it left us all speechless in front of the television screen. Estela found Guido. Guido found Estela.

And then once we shook off the surprise, once, in slow motion, we managed to react, to fall, to try and measure what this means. The profundity it implies. Because Estela’s fight, the fight of the grandmothers, is everybody’s fight. Because there are 400 more Guidos or Victorias or Tatianas or Juanes that do not yet know their true identities. Because the identities of those 400 people were taken from us all. And yet each returned grandson returns us all a piece of history. Because the grandmothers’ relentlessness reminds us that it is impossible to build a future even if we haven’t solved the past.

Today, Argentina’s past, present, and future merge in Estela and Guido’s embrace.

9 experiences on Easter Island

Rapa Nui (Easter Island) is a small volcanic island halfway between Oceania and South America. It’s mostly famous for the Moai, massive human figures carved from stone by the Rapa Nui people between 1250 and 1500 AD.

I’m lucky to have recently visited this tiny dot of an island in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean. It was an immersion into an unexplored culture, where you can ride a horse all the way up a volcano and hear stories about the Birdman religion and sacred ceremonies. Among other things:

1. Land at the most isolated airport on Earth

Photo by the author

Rapa Nui is located halfway between French Polynesia and Chile. It’s the most isolated inhabited land on the planet. Unless you own a boat, Mataveri International Airport is how you’ll arrive. Be sure to buy tickets for the national park as soon as you get off the plane (even before passing through immigration) to get a discount. Also, the airport runway crosses the entire island and is possibly the best place on Earth to see planes come and go…even if there’s only one aircraft per day.

2. Get the stamp!

Photo by the author

Daily flights to Rapa Nui arrive from Santiago, meaning you get a Chilean stamp on that hard-worn passport of yours. But go to the downtown post office and they’ll be gracious enough to stamp your passport with their own Rapa Nui stamp.

3. Swim the clearest waters in the South Pacific

Photo: travelwayoflife

One characteristic that protects Rapa Nui from predatory tourism is the lack of postcard-ready white-sand beaches. There’s but one, Anakena, pristine as a Pacific paradise advertisement, complete with picnic tables, a line of very impressive Moai, carritos (shacks) selling unbelievably delicious empanadas de atun and, if you’re lucky, even a traditional marriage complete with all-white clothing, family members, and music (like when I was there).

The natural blue, cold, and cool waters are perfect for diving; sea turtles can be seen when snorkeling right off the beach.

4. Bump into ancient petroglyphs

Photo by the author

I was roaming around some rocks by the sea, right in front a souvenir shop. There weren’t any signs — I just wanted to get closer to the sea and here looked as good as any. But then I saw a rock shaped like an animal — a frog, maybe? Right next to it there was something carved on a rock. Then more. And more.

Rapa Nui is an archeologist’s heaven — minus the curious visitor walking over ancient markings, of course. That’s why, 30 seconds later, the owner of the souvenir shop appeared on the road above the rocks yelling at me to get out of there immediately.

5. Check out the Moai

Photo by the author

Moai translates loosely as “to whom” in the Rapa Nui language. Makes perfect sense once you understand what those enormous statues stands for — not gods or aliens, but ancestors watching over the land and sharing mana (vital energy) with their tribes. It also explains why the Moai were torn down when tribal wars devastated the island.

The best place to see them is…just about everywhere. I mean it — if not careful, you risk stepping on Moai remains near an ahu and getting mad stares from tour guides and park rangers. Two spots are remarkable: Rano Raraku, known as he “Moai factory” because that’s where the most figures were excavated; and Ahu Tahai, which is guaranteed to deliver the sunset of a lifetime and is walkable from the island’s downtown area.

6. Eat local fish

Photo: David Berkowitz

Nearly everything consumed on the island comes from conti (continental Chile). But this doesn’t mean they lack fresh, local ingredients, especially fish. They’re used for things like fresh ceviche, Peruvian-style: raw tuna or kana-kana bites seasoned with lime juice, onions, peppers, sweet potatoes, and cilantro, among other tasty ingredients. Each place has its own recipe and Tia Berta, on the main drag of Atamu Tekena, is a local fave.

Insider tip: If raw fish isn’t your thing, go for sopa marina, a rich and hearty caldo of seafood and fish.

7. Watch the world’s best sunset, drink in hand

Photo by the author

It’s safe to say you’ll have fantastic views on any stretch of the west coast. But there are two places where the experience will be even more rewarding. The first is the top of the Terevaka peak, with a 360-degree view (also great to see the sunrise, if waking up at 5am is your cup of tea).

Second is the bar inside the newly opened Hanga Roa Hotel, walking distance from the main street. The Hanga Roa offers daily sunset drinks for visitors. Grab yours, order some snacks, and watch the sun peacefully going down the sea.

8. Ditch your car and ride a bike (or horse)

Photo by the author

There are many places to rent bikes here. I rented mine on day 1 and spent all week on two wheels. Cars are available too, but they’re not as much fun.

9. Learn a few words of Rapanui

Photo by the author

You can learn maururu (“thank you”), manuia paka-paka! (“cheers”), and ‘lorana (“hello/goodbye”) from the internet, but discover so much more from a Rapa Nui tour guide. Our guide learned the history and culture of his people from his grandma. Rapa Nui people have a powerful sense of belonging and are quite proud of their history and heritage.

This trip was sponsored in part by our friends at the Hanga Roa Hotel. Be sure to check out their website, rates, and tour packages at hangaroa.cl.

20 portraits from the Caribbean

Editor’s note: I first came across Daniel Chafer’s work at MatadorU’s travel photography program, and was immediately captivated by his imagery of water.

Daniel has been living at sea for more than six years, giving him next-level access to surf spots and beaches across the Caribbean and Mediterranean. Below is a collection of some of his shots that I most responded to.




1

Sandy cay

On a day trip out to a sandy cay in the British Virgin Islands, I felt I couldn't capture what I saw through my lens. The island is full of palms and crystal-clear water with a combination of sand and reef. We all swam ashore, and for the next few hours we started to explore, only to find a fairy-tale bush track that covered the island. We tried to camp on the island that night, but a national park ranger told us to move on.

2

Cane Garden

I hadn't been camping for a while and wanted to find a location where we could watch the sunset over the campsite. We'd just managed to surf the right spot at the right time—a rarely breaking right point called Cane Garden Bay. We heard of a bay just north of Cane Garden, so we decided to navigate our way around the back roads to find it.

3

Sharing stoke

I asked this local man, Tafari, if he'd heard of the bay north of Cane Garden. He told me he'd take us if we didn't tell any travelers of this spot. We got to the top of the road and looked out to the ocean, only to see the kingdom of heaven. Tafari asked if we had anything to drink. All we had was warm orange juice, so we gave it to him.

Intermission




4
11 portraits that reveal the real faces of the homeless
by Joshua Thaisen



3
16 images of life on the streets in LA
by Joshua Thaisen



3
10 experiences you can only have in the Guianas
by Karin-Marijke Vis












4

Beachcombing

The island of St. Thomas is home to many reef breaks, and in the US Virgin Islands the picturesque little beaches are covered with driftwood, coral, and colorful shells. Early one morning I checked the surf report to find the swell was up, so I drove to Hull Bay to find a perfect 3ft wave. On my paddle back to the beach I found a pile of beautiful shells and couldn't just walk away without creating something.

5

Navigating the sea

After doing loads of research on different islands to explore in the Caribbean, we figured if we penciled an outline to our journey we wouldn't mind being lost as long as we knew we were heading south to St. Lucia. Sailing the Caribbean is a lifestyle; you have the luxury to choose what private seashore you're anchored in, or find a beach with nobody around.

6

Tortola

This is my good friend Tommy. As we had a few hours left before we had to catch the ferry back to St. Martin, he was taking a few snapshots of the local kids playing in the sand. I climbed the closest sand dune and stole his focus away for just a few moments to get this snap.

7

Looking into a fish tank

The surf was small, so we decided to snorkel at a beautiful beach on the French side of St. Martin (Baie de Grand Case). The weather was so calm and tranquil that morning it felt like we were swimming in a fish tank. My girlfriend, Jessica, dove into the vibrant blue waters as I watched in amazement the way the water was reflecting off her pale skin.

8

Choppy ferry ride

As we jumped on the ferry that afternoon, we could see the wind was picking up and knew the seas would get a little choppy for our hour-and-a-half boat ride back from Tortola to St. Thomas. Fortunately enough, I could handle the rough waves, unlike most of the passengers, who were tended to by staff busily running around with paper bags and telling everyone to look out the windows into the horizon to feel better.

9

Tropical pigs

The Bahamas are an island nation consisting of more than 700 islands, cays, and islets. One district called Exuma has the clearest waters you'll see on Earth. Big Major Cay in Exuma is populated by pigs, which, as legend has it, are descendants of survivors of a shipwreck. Now the pigs are a tourist attraction to many travelers who visit the Bahamas every year.

Despite all the talk I'd heard from the locals, I still wasn't too sure if these pigs would actually swim. But one morning we took a tender over, got settled right close to the sand, and, after waiting 10 minutes, to my amazement three pigs came stomping out behind the bushes, crashing their way into the water. I jumped overboard with a handful of lettuce and my camera. These pigs were so quick. Before I knew it they were fogging up my lens with their huge snouts.

Intermission




1
31 portraits of people sharing their greatest insecurities
by Katie Scott Aiton



5
15 images that changed my perception of Vietnam
by Colm FitzGerald



8
Notes from a photographer in Varanasi, India
by Andrés Vanegas Canosa












10

Rain drops

My friend Reece and I paddled out at Botany Bay on St. Thomas, hoping to get some shots of us surfing. But my attention was drawn to the substantial rain that struck the surface with great force. I lost myself for a few minutes, staring into the ocean, until the rain actually started stinging. I held my underwater housing over my head to try to get some shelter.

11

Rowing is a sport for dreamers

This beautiful rustic boat was sitting by the shore in St. Lucia. Her name was "AUDREY LOU." The owner was standing next to her just lying back on his chair. As I stood close to him he began to tell me a few stories of the adventures he'd had with her. I asked him why he didn't buy a boat with an engine. He looked at me and burst out laughing, saying, "This keeps me happy; rowing is a sport for dreamers."

12

Simple pleasures

Most in the Caribbean don't have much but still seem to be always smiling. I was driving to the beach after work and saw this boy (Ricky) selling fruit at his mum's store. I pulled over and bought lots of fresh fruit from the family, then asked his mum if I could buy him a juice. His face lit up, and within seconds he'd drunk the whole bottle.

13

Playful dolphins

A day you could only dream of in St. Thomas: We set sail on our Atlantic crossing en route to Barcelona. The sun was setting, so I decided to go sit on the bow of the boat with my head resting on the edge, capturing some moments with the water and the sunshine. To my amazement three dolphins appeared. The dolphins were getting pushed by the boat, due to the low pressure system the boat's bow creates. They were piercing the water without a splash. I couldn't help but stare and be drawn into the expression of these creatures. They would whistle out of their blowholes like they were trying to tell us something, I always thought they were trying to tell us there was rough weather ahead.

14

Sunsets never get old

Land was seen on the horizon for the first time in two weeks, crossing from the vivid blues of the Caribbean to the cultural whirlwind of the Mediterranean. We were lucky enough to experience unusually calm seas for the 14-day voyage. Our flag had been twisted around the pole from the strong winds earlier that day, so Ian climbed over the rails to unravel the flag from its tangled mess. As he turned around there was a pod of whales ahead of us, playing on the surface while the sun was about to go under the horizon.

15

Summer all year 'round

The beach of Coki Bay, St. Thomas, is surrounded by calm, clear waters and a white sandy bottom. It fills up with beautiful reef fish and is a perfect spot to snorkel. I asked the locals for some dog biscuits, and as I dove into the water my biscuit started to crumble into a thousand pieces, the reef fish wiggling into a feeding frenzy.

Intermission




4
Following the Ganges from source to sea
by Jake Norton



9
A year in photos: The extreme light changes of Antarctica
by Ben Adkison



4
Portraits from the streets of Havana, Cuba
by Chris Burkard












16

Message in a bottle

Since I've been living on the water, it's been my dream to stumble across a message in a bottle. It's been six years, and I've found many old wine bottles with crabs and fish living in them but no script. I thought of an old story that a Caribbean Rasta had told me. He survived on a raft after his boat was hit broadside by a large wave and capsized in a bad storm. He'd been drifting between St. Lucia and St. Vincent for three days in a 6ft fiberglass boat, with a water maker he found floating from his emergency kit. So I decided to write his story on a script, hoping that one day another sailor would appreciate his journey and how he was rescued by a fisherman who trawled those waters every day.

17

Green flash

A lot of captains I've met along my adventures have told me about a green flash at sunset. I've spent six years of sunrises and sunsets hoping to see the horizon turn green. The atmosphere can cause light from the sun to separate out into various colors, allowing a green flash to appear right after sunset or right before sunrise. This day we were in St. Lucia. I'd just finished dinner ashore and was heading back to the boat with some fresh produce. To my amazement, there it was—flick—a vibrant green line that shone along the horizon. I missed photographing it. It's so hard to capture the flash; you need to be prepared to snap it up. This shot was just a few minutes before.

18

Carnival time

I hired an old Vespa with my girlfriend over a long weekend to explore some of the local reefs in St. Martin. I always try to ride down the back streets, as there always seems to be more alluring events taking place in the alleyways. The police pulled us over and asked us to turn around as there was a carnival taking place ahead. We thought we could hear thunder, but it was the sound of the drums and the roar of the crowds as they danced through the streets. The leader of the group was the man with the African Power t-shirt. His spirit and dance moves made everyone smile around him. As he swung past me he held his hand out and gave me a high five. He noticed my camera and stopped to pose for a few photos, but this natural one was my favorite out of the bunch.

19

Aquamarine

We'd woken early one morning to try to beat the traffic on a busy Saturday at Grand Case in St. Martin. The beaches were still packed with tourists and the waves were coming up the beach, so we decided to walk down next to the marina to try to find a spot to get away from the crowds. A few kids had climbed through a wire fence and disappeared under the bridge, so I decided to follow them down, not knowing I was about to see this picturesque color of aquamarine.

20

Kindness

I was visiting some friends based in St. Martin in a marina called Bobby's. We'd been exploring the island for reef breaks, and every morning I'd have a coffee on the dock at 8am and see a young boy walk past with four bags filled with fresh fish. After the third day I asked the young boy what his name was. He replied "Bobby," in a Rasta voice. I asked him where he takes all this seafood. Bobby said he walks four kilometers every morning to the local wharf to get fresh fish for his parents' restaurant. The day we set sail for another island, I let Bobby ride with us.

11 things I miss about the South

Ah, Waffle House. Photo: Kent Yoshimura

It’s more than copious amounts of butter. I know Tennessee is only one part of the South, but, where I come from, things were la-di-da, spacious, and simple.

1. Personal space

Nashville had plenty of room to roam among a wealth of coffeeshops, living space, and nature. Personal space is a rare privilege in NYC. Apartments are too small for hanging out, cafes are crowded, and if you do find yourself on a quiet street alone, the NYPD recommends you leave it.

2. Southern breakfasts

The Loveless Cafe in Nashville has the quaint country charm and good cookin’ required for any true Southern breakfast. Homemade preserves, scratch-made biscuits, and the freshest fried chicken aren’t easy to find in pretentious-brunch-filled New York.

Waffle House is also particularly missed on late Saturday nights in the East Village, when a slice of dollar pizza just won’t do. Delightfully greasy, so darn cheap, and literally always open, Waffle House should put that bright beautiful black and yellow sign in the middle of Meatpacking and just be done with it.

3. Preppy people

In Tennessee I lived among groomed Southerners in friendly uniformed pastel polo and sundress looks. Contrast that with the bitch in the black leather Versace dress and studded Louboutin heels who stole my cab in Midtown yesterday. I then watched a hobo in a Slipknot t-shirt pick off his toenail and flick it.

Most likely this wouldn’t happen in Tennessee. That said, I have also seen a tattooed bro with gold teeth gently scoop a baby bird from the bike-filled East River highway and move it out of harm’s way, which probably isn’t something that’d happen in Tennessee.

4. $4 drinks

Nothing says NYC like spending a quick $32 bucks on two cocktails, which is easy to do when you want to try the smoked sea salt and kale margarita and the chipotle-infused agave bourbon. In Nashville, I could buy a pint of Yazoo for $4. “Don’t forget to come getchu a free one when ya finish that, darlin’,” bartenders would say. “It’s happy hour.” And for my savins’ account, it certainly was.

5. Sweet Southern conversation

“Woodya like butta on your muffin, muffin? Sugah in your coffee, sugah?” People say things like “Jeet,” meaning “Did you eat?” Or “Ju let out the cayut?” Words in the South are practically pronounced in slow motion, and I miss being called food names on the reg.

Sometimes in the city I wish someone would ask me if I like the new “flares” planted in Central Park, or if I’m planning to visit “Grammaw” for the holidays. Instead people wear earbuds everywhere and curse at me on my Citi Bike.

6. Southern music

In Nashville honky-tonks are plentiful, and Broadway’s bustling with live music. Summer’s the best time to be a Tennessean. I’m not even country’s biggest fan, but when CMA Fest rolls around I’d put on my cowboy hat and happily drink Budweiser in a tailgate parking lot.

NYC doesn’t really have parking lots, and I have yet to find a place like Lonnie’s in Printer’s Alley where I can listen to the next wannabe American Idol play the gee-tar and belt “Wagon Wheel” in tight, frayed blue jeans.

7. Gossiping

In the South, there’s something very alluring about everybody knowing everybody’s business. If Patti got a boob job, the whole town knows how much it cost. In New York, I couldn’t tell you the first name of the neighbor I share a wall with, but I could tell you he listens to accordion music when he has sex, and it knocks the frames off my wall. But if I wanted to snitch about his odd sexual antics and multiple mistresses to someone, 1) I wouldn’t have anyone to tell, and 2) no one would care.

It’s hard to find a sense of “neighborhood” in NYC, and without it, gossip isn’t really possible. Despite what Serena van der Woodsen would say.

8. That slow-paced, easy lifestyle

In a rush to get my car’s oil changed in Cookeville, Tennessee, the mechanic told me I’d have to wait five hours. “We ain’t as fast as them Yankees,” he said. Unsure if I should remind him the war was over, I dilly-dallied away with no particular place to be.

This isn’t something I ever say in New York. And always having somewhere to be can be exhausting, even if that somewhere is just a boozy bottomless jazz brunch in the West Village.

9. Places like this:

In NYC a haircut is $75, and mine’s never come with a blessing.

10. Backyards

In Tennessee, I’d walk barefoot out my back door into a clean, green, private yard surrounded by trees and birds. Now my backyard is Central Park, and it’s shared with eight million others — and I have to take the train to get there.

Let me be the first to say I adore Central Park. But once I arrive, if it’s a nice summer day, I’ll have to hunt through herds of people for a shady spot that may or may not be sprinkled with rat feces.

11. Driving for no reason

Sometimes I run on the East River and look back at the city I’m attached to and realize I’m actually trapped on this non-pristine, crowded island of Manhattan. Freedom to go wherever whenever isn’t something that exists in the city for normal people. In New York I’ve let my driver’s license expire, and my subway commute smells like hot garbage and piss. No driving on hilly, tree-lined back roads with the fresh air in my hair.

And whether it’s dumping rain or snow or so hot my shorts cling to my ass, I will have to carry my groceries home in it.