Matador Network's Blog, page 2254

Enter the #Travelstoke Summer Promo for $50 off MatadorU tuition and the chance to win a free course

HAVE YOU ever felt #travelstoke? You know, that epic moment when you’re reminded that there’s so much more to this world than we experience in our little bubbles at home. This summer,  Matador is looking for stories–both visual and in writing–that capture this feeling. They can be vignettes that describe a certain scene or bus ride, or connection between people. It’s wide open as far as form; what matters is that it evokes the inspiration of being on the road.

Submit a photo or story using the hashtag #travelstoke,  and you’ll be automatically entered to win a free MatadorU program of your choice (Travel Writing, Photography, or Filmmaking). You can enter as many times as you like.

Also note: By entering you will receive a promo code for $50 off tuition of any MatadorU program, valid until August 1, 2014.

How to enter

Visit our #Travelstoke Summer Promo page and follow the instructions to upload your photo(s) and stories via Tumblr, Instagram, or Twitter. Then fill out the form at the bottom of the page to receive your MatadorU promo code.

We are accepting entries until June 30, 2014 and will announce a randomly drawn winner of a MatadorU course by July 7, 2014.

Let’s see those #travelstoke moments! Best of luck.

9 questions when considering a move

Photo: Mike K

1. What are your priorities?

If you think beer is a good thing, consider Asheville, North Carolina.

Are you looking for a small-town feeling? An I-may-have-slept-with-everyone-in-this-bar-but-I-can’t-tell-because-that-guy-grew-a-beard vibe? Portland, Maine, sounds like your jam.

How important, on a scale of 1 to 10, is meeting a model who’s also a dubstep DJ, who’s also a vegan? 11? Put Brooklyn on your list. Actually, just move to Brooklyn. Stay there please. Thank you.

2. Are people going to be nice to you?

Were you booed off the stage at five different open mic nights in the same city? It could mean you suck at the ukulele. It could also mean you don’t jive well with the local mentality. And nobody wants to hear your ridiculous ukulele playing.

3. What’s the money scene like?

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, a successful carpenter in New England makes somewhere between $36k and $68k annually. Down South, they might get 10 bucks an hour and a free t-shirt.

If working in your craft is important to you, make sure your skill set is actually valuable at your next destination.

4. Where’re ya gonna live?!

In a rented room that’s also a screened-in porch with three other people? In a suburban bungalow in a hip, new neighborhood with five community gardens? In your 1983 Volvo in a parking lot behind the 7-Eleven? So many options!

5. How are you going to fulfill yourself? / How are you going to not be depressed?

According to research conducted by The Huffington Post and Prevention.com, San Jose, California, is the happiest city in America because they have a lot of organic vegetables. (Sunshine + organic produce = happy. Duh.)

Salt Lake City came in second because they don’t have cancer. Mormonism means no drinking and smoking, which means no cancer, which obviously means happy. Sober happy happiness.

6. Can a girl get a burrito in this joint without having to proposition someone?

The South: Mouth-watering and impressively affordable BBQ. Mexican available at every roadside convenience store.

The North: Second mortgages required for most guacamole add-ons.

7. What if your cousin Natasha needs bail again? And other family-related concerns.

Being away from family can be hard. It can also not be hard.

8. What are the local politics?

Do you prefer to smoke your marijuana freely in the fresh air? Where your patchouli-scented sun-streaked locks can be gently tousled in a whispering breeze? Where the birds can happily chirp in conversation as they eat sunflower seeds from your open palm? Try Colorado.

Do you believe that women’s bodies are equivalent to baby-storing Tupperware containers and should be kept under the constant supervision of male politicians? Consider North Dakota, your one-stop medieval paradise destination.

9. Do any of these questions matter?

Maybe. I have no idea. The best advice someone gave me: If you’re ready for a big move, then you’re ready for a big change. Life is always going to be unpredictable in a new place, so just dive in.

Baby in Bosnia airlifted from flood

LAST WEEK, several parts of Bosnia, Serbia, and Croatia, where devastated by a flood consisting of over three-months worth of rain. According to The Weather Channel, “more than 100,000 homes, 230 schools, businesses, roads and railways were washed out by the flooding. Tens of thousands were evacuated across the three countries…Around a million people are without drinking water in Bosnia alone.”

Having lived through Hurricane Sandy, I can say first hand how awful it is to watch your home be swept away by water — but I can also attest to the amazing kindness and power employed by people during times of crisis. This video, of a baby being airlifted from the scene of a flood, is one such example of how citizens of the world come together when others need them the most.

For more information on how you can help those affected by this natural disaster, click here.

The important story behind all these dudes posting tiger photos on Tinder

Photo: tinderguyswithtigers

THE LATEST INTERNET trend seems to come in the form of people posing with tigers, who then use their photos as bait to lure in potential hookups on Tinder. I guess it’s some sort of symbolic way for people to express:

I’ve got a soft side, look at me cuddling with this cute animal!
But I’ve also got a badass side, and am not afraid to lie with a wild beast!
When was the last time you touched a tiger? Exactly. I’m better than you. And that’s why you should date me.

Maybe some people would fall for this ruse, but educated Tinder users (which, let’s be honest — are probably non-existent) should be aware that these people are supporting establishments where animals are mistreated, neglected, and abused.

In his article, 7 reasons to think twice before visiting Thailand’s “Tiger Temple,” Turner Barr exposed the cruel world of animal attractions in Southeast Asia. Within moments of posting, it post went viral, and it currently has over 346,000 page views. It’s important to understand what goes on at places like Tiger Temple, and to educate others to avoid places that promote irresponsible treatment of animals (and adults).

Maybe the guys and gals who have posted their big cat photos on Tinder didn’t realize what went on behind the scenes of these places, but it does make a statement about the kind of ethics they potentially hold. In my opinion, someone that volunteers to help rehabilitate formerlly captive elephants, after researching the legitimacy of the organization, is way hotter than some guy who happened to visit Thailand and tried to overcompensate for his small wiener, by posting his tiger photo on Tinder.

 

Inside a Japanese maid cafe

(via)

We paused at the bright bubble-lettered sign above Moe Filles. Tucked in against a blocky two-floor complex, it was strategically nondescript, and I’d walked past it dozens of time on my days off without giving it a second thought. White cardboard covered up the main window, and the dark varnished door looked like it’d been pulled from the wreckage of a Victorian home. Most of the surrounding shops were still closed behind steel shutters, and there wasn’t a whole lot to indicate this place was open either. Beside me, Dave, his hands tucked in the pockets of a grey hoodie, lifted his shoulders against a gust of wind funneling down the alley.

I’d been teaching English for about six months in the small city of Himeji, about 100km west of Osaka. Dave had been here nearly ten and his contract at the English school we worked at was coming to a close, but one of his students had told him about a popular maid café off Miyukidori, the main shopping track. Curiosity was our only legitimate excuse for wanting to check it out, but we’d invited another one of our students, Akiko, along as a kind of chaperon.

“Maybe it will be less weird if we have a girl with us,” Dave had suggested.

Akiko went first, and as we entered the three of us played hot-potato with nervous glances that silently asked, How are we supposed to act? A sickly sweet artificial smell of strawberry wafted past, and a young teenage girl approached us in a pink maid outfit. My first impulse was to gauge her age, and I found myself rounding a lot lower than I felt comfortable.

“Gokitaku hajimete desu ka?” she asked, slightly nasal. Is this your first time coming home?

Dave just gave me a giddy confused grin, and Akiko quickly nodded and accepted a laminated card that had the café’s rules written out in English and Japanese, which included never making physical contact with the maids, ordering a mandatory drink, a 500¥ ($5 USD) per-hour cover charge, and the prohibited use of cameras.

Our maid, who introduced herself simply as Mu-chan, made a slight bow in her impeccable outfit. The petticoat, short frilly pinafore, and long stockings seemed exaggerated, as if she really had stepped out of a Japanese anime. The garter on her stockings disappeared up her thigh; a pair of black cat ears sprouted from her hair band. She caught me looking and seemed to reflexively lower the sleeve of the slack black vest she was wearing down her back and on her elbows.

I could make out several patrons passing bored leers at the two gaijin (outsider, or non-Japanese) and their Japanese acquaintance who had just entered. The bright colors of the walls and short tables seemed to accent the feeling of a child’s playroom.

Akiko said something to the effect that we understood the rules and all the maids suddenly turned from what they were doing, bowed in unison, and replied with, “Okaerinasaimase goshujinsama!” Welcome home, master!

Before our hour expired, another of the maids had brought out a karaoke machine and coerced us with pouting eyes to sing “Hajimete no Chuu.”

This greeting has come to define a trend of Japanese subculture that coined the word otaku, a term that has been used to describe a male demographic between the ages of 18 to 35 who have an obsession with anime. The first maid cafés originally found their footing in Tokyo’s Akihabara district in the mid-2000s and were advertised as safe, nonjudgmental places where otaku could buy and play bishojo games (virtual sims that explored interactions with attractive animated girls).

In bigger cities many cafés still incorporate this theme, which includes opportunities to engage in innocuous activities like card and board games and arts and crafts, to more intimate services like massages, spoon-feeding, and mimikaki (or ear-cleaning). There’s even a tsundere café in Nagomi, which refers to another popular personality quirk in anime characterized by an initial coldness that eventually warms up over time.

As we sat down at our table, a flatscreen above us cycled the end credits to various anime with furigana subtitles scrolling underneath, and I turned to Dave. We each ordered from a list of 500¥ drinks and Dave ordered an omelet rice, a feature of most maid cafés.

“This is bizarre, dude,” he said. “I think that guy behind me brought work from his office to do here.”

I looked over his shoulder at an older man with a serious case of fop sweat and in his late 30s, absorbed with some papers in his briefcase. Other regulars seemed to gaze listlessly into space, occasionally making cheerful banter with the maids. Mu-chan returned with our drinks and kneeled down at our table. This act of kneeling down to eye level is a quintessential aspect of the maid’s “character image” as a caregiver and embodiment of innocence.

Unlike hostess clubs in Japan, the sexuality in maid cafés is deliberately subdued. And yet both maid and master seem to follow a kind of script that acknowledges the maid as a symbolic and subversive infantilization of that sexuality, one that hallmarks the anime genre. And though they also lack the corporate misogyny of hostess clubs, the demarcations between gender roles is rigid.

Dave’s omelet rice finally arrived, decorated with an anime-style ketchup drawing of Mu-chan and a personalized message in hiragana. “Kawaii,” Akiko said. Too cute.

Before we could eat, however, Mu-chan insisted on performing an “incantation” to make it taste better. She put both her hands together forming a heart and sang “Moe, moe, kyunnn!” and leaned in close as she urged us to perform it with her. I could smell the fake strawberry on her.

When I asked Akiko later what moe meant, she struggled to translate. “Someone who likes anime, that kind of thing. Cute things. I don’t know in English,” she said, but in my mind the word “fetish” was already rolling around. An individual with moe loves anime, and probably more specifically refers to an attraction to the “young girl” image.

“I feel like a creep now,” I admitted after we left. “I think I just aided and abetted with putting women’s lib back a generation.”

Dave smirked. “Or pedophilia. How did you play it so cool in there? I was freaking out. That was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been.”

“To be honest, when Mu-chan made us do karaoke in front of the whole café, it felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. I’m not entirely sure I was mentally present for the whole thing,”

Before our hour expired, another of the maids had brought out a karaoke machine and coerced us with pouting eyes to sing “Hajimete no Chuu.” When all eyes turned to the two gaijin and their cute and pleading doe-eyed maid, we finally submitted and brutalized the classic song with quivering voices, red faces, and a very rudimentary grasp of Japanese.

“Well, if we go back next week, they’ll probably remember us, anyway,” I joked.

“At least we have a memento,” Dave replied, referring to the cheki, or personalized Polaroid photo we’d had snapped with Mu-chan (for another 500¥).

“Are you going to tell your girlfriend?” Akiko asked.

“She’s cool. She’d find it hilarious,” Dave said, and then scratched his head. “Maybe not.”

Spain reinvents crosswalks [vid]

A lot of times, we accept the basic features of our cities for no particularly good reason — we’ve just been doing it that way for so long that we don’t even think about doing it otherwise.

A great example is the modern crosswalk. For streets with less automobile traffic and more pedestrian traffic, why cross only at the intersections?

Vigo, Spain has an interesting new system for crosswalks: Instead of zebra stripes marking the intersection, there are tiny lit pillars all along the street that are red when crossing isn’t allowed — and traffic is moving through — and then turn green when it’s okay to cross. It wouldn’t necessarily work at every intersection, but it’s a new, creative way of thinking about traffic in the city. And hopefully, it would mean fewer bullshit jaywalking tickets.

Brazilian vs. Argentine soccer fans

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1. The way they treat their teams

Fact: Brazilians pester their players. In Argentina, supporters cheer nonstop for the whole 90 minutes. Yes, they also assault their players from time to time, but that’s another story.

2. Fan violence

Compared to the Argentinian barras bravas, the Brazilian organizadas behave like grandmothers. Soccer violence in Argentina is more prevalent and problematic because it gets political — a serious issue.

3. Party style at the stadiums

This point isn’t all that different. Both sides wave flags, display banners, and flaunt their pride. But Argentinians are prone to make a mess, launching all those pieces of shredded paper onto the field. I’d hate to be the cleanup crew after the game.

4. Earned conceit

Brazilians are arrogant about their soccer tradition. But, as five-time World Cup champions, they have good reason. While Argentina is certainly a major player on the world stage, it’s not as important as its supporters like to think.

5. Idols of the past

In Brazil, it’s Pele, and there’s no way to adequately explain the idolatry that Brazilians heap on him. In Argentina, you have Diego Armando Maradona, and the relationships Argentinians have with him transcend rationality. There’s even a church in his name — maybe a mixture of craziness and mockery.

Either way, these two legends stand opposite each other in the pantheon of football — Maradona was a controversial prima donna who made headlines on and off the field while Pele was, frankly, just kinda boring despite his beautiful prowess on the pitch.

6. Idols of the present

In Brazil, it goes like this: You have to be a World Cup champion. Until this day comes, Neymar won’t secure his place in Brazilians’ hearts. Not even Zico has achieved it. The Argentinians have been hard judges of Lionel Messi, but the lefty overcame critics with his splendid performance four years ago.

7. Classic matchups

In Brazil, they’ve tried holding games where only one team’s fans have been admitted, but classic matches are still played with fans of both teams in the stadium. In Argentina, because of fan violence, games between Boca Juniors and River Plate, the two teams with the strongest rivalry in the country, take place with supporters of the home team only in attendance.

8. Local teams

Argentinian soccer fans have an affection for the local neighborhood teams. This is why even the smallest teams stay alive. As for Brazilians, they prefer to support only the most important teams of the city, state, or country.

9. Intra-national rivalries

In Argentina, every club has a rival. In a local third-division classic, Chacarita Juniors fans took Palestine flags to the game against a team traditionally championed by Jews, the Atlanta.

Meanwhile, in Brazil, the rivalries happen inside the major leagues: Flamengo vs. Fluminense, São Paulo vs. Corinthians. But who’s the arch-nemesis of Juventus? Who provokes the Bangu fans? No one.

10. Television rights

In both countries, soccer fans have no problem watching matches on TV. In Brazil, all-powerful national network Rede Globo holds rights to most important games, while in Argentina the government subsidizes the transmission rights.

11. Stadium ownership

Almost all Argentinian fans attend games in privately owned and operated stadiums. Meanwhile, in Brazil, taxes are used to build and maintain arenas like Maracanã, Pacaembú, and Mané Garrincha.

Open letter to a friend in Palestine

Photo: Author

There is really nothing secret about the road. Alaa and I have mapped the way from al-Bireh in Ramallah and through the villages of Birzeit to Ein Yabroud, around and under the bypass road at the edge of the Ofra Israeli Settlement and Silwad, through the villages of Deir Jarir and Taibe. And we know precisely when we are leaving ‘Area A,’ those areas within the West Bank under the control of the Palestinian Authority, and when we are entering ‘Area C,’ those areas of the deeply divided territory under full Israeli control — although all roads, regardless of area classification, are Area C. It’s important for you to understand, because there exists no road in all of Palestine where we ever really feel free.

But beyond Taibe, our road of legend. So sinuous, that we follow only the sky. So dangerous are its curves, that we feel safe here. So lost beyond the confines, that we feel found. Alaa is behind the wheel, and he gently heavies the weight of his foot against the gas pedal. We are not scared; it feels like flying, and I want to fly above our confines, given to us, placed on us, forced upon us. I release the buckle of my seatbelt and soar from the open window, arms stretched like magnificent wings. “Nobody can hear us,” I shout to him as he drives — and we are laughing, and alive. “Alaa, I want to scream to the sky!”

“Haifa, be careful!” — one last glance. The poet Mahmoud Darwish wrote of Palestine: Do not describe what I can see of your wounds. And scream that you may hear yourself, and scream that you may know you’re still alive. Alaa has this way of looking at me as though his heart is in his big brown eyes.

And so the cool night air takes my hair, and I scream to the desert valley before us, “CAN YOU HEAR US! I WISH FOR LOVE!”

Hysterical laughter, and I fling my body back inside and take his hand into mine — eidy fi eidek, Alaa. This is our sacred place. When I take the wheel from him, Alaa shouts from the window, “GIVE US A FUCKING BREAK!”

* * *

My best friend, my twin soul. I have not seen you in nearly a year, and I don’t know for sure when I will see you again. But we’ve bared this uncertainty, always. I know you are reading this, and so I can say: One day you and I will drive from Ramallah to Jaffa and to Haifa, and I will show you the land you have never seen — although its blood courses through your veins as the olive’s oil courses through your hundreds year old trees, rooted to this place. We will swim in the Gaza seas. We will dig our toes into the sand by which I once wrote your name, and could take only a picture to show you. One day you will see the city by the sea where the golden sunsets ignite Jaffa’s looming mosque ablaze in fiery hues. We will take one of the fishing boats and with our tabla drum make music into the Mediterranean night. One day we will walk and feel the sand from the Sinai to Egypt.

I am sorry that sometimes entire countries have to be shattered and entire families torn apart, but one day the suffering and your longing will end.

One day, we will drive along the coast and across old borders to Tyre and to Saida, and to Beirut. I am from there. There will be no more camps, because nobody is a refugee — Ein al-Hilwe will no longer be splintered cement, but literally the beautiful springs it was meant to be. One day we will walk the ruins of great empires, inside the Saidon Sea Castle built by Crusaders in 1228 AD, now crumbling into the Mediterranean Sea; the shattered remnants of the Phoenician city in Tyre; the Roman ruins of Baalbek in the Bekaa Valley — the fallen mosque amidst the Great Court and temples to the gods Jupiter and Bacchus. As a child I’d played hide and seek and ran barefoot at the pillars of their civilizations.

Do you remember walking once along Hamra Street in Beirut, and the way we danced in the dimly lit jazz club with no name, its walls of brick and smoke, hidden away from the glaring car lights, blaring horns, and the glamorous Lebanese nightlife? And they played oud instead of jazz, and sang to Ziad Rahbani instead of Frank Sinatra. The night we sat on the jagged rocks beyond the walls of the corniche — the very rocks from which my grandfather used to fish and my uncles used to jump; the rocks from which my mother and her sisters used to swim — and we watched the smiling moon setting over the black water as we prepared to say one of our many goodbyes, and talk about the next time. We will do that again, one day. One day, we will not be greeted by mothers and women and children coming from Syria now with sad eyes, and open hands. You are from there.

So one day we will climb to the top of the Golan Heights and reach Syria. Where Yarmouk Camp was once a nebula of sprawling cement and stone block homes along narrow streets, alleys, and motorways — a densely packed .81 square mile radius, home to over 100,000 Palestinian refugees in the heart of Damascus — one day it will be rebuilt beyond the walls that once defined it as a camp, and you will return to the place that was once home. One day you will take me to your family’s farm in Damascus, and we will run and play and eat beneath the trees you last saw as a child. Your mother will meet her mother again, and your cousins will be beautiful women. I am sorry that sometimes entire countries have to be shattered and entire families torn apart, but one day the suffering and your longing will end.

And one day again in Palestine, we will dance to Hotel California on the bare stone floor of my kitchen in Birzeit. And you will stand behind me, holding the ropes of the swing you built next to my lemon trees. And we will watch Ramallah’s twinkling lights and argue about how far it all really is. And in the morning we will share a taxi back to al-Manara, where all roads lead, connecting the city of the heights of God with Nablus and Jerusalem. And we will walk to your home in al-Bireh once again, and I will throw my arms around your mother, father, and brother. We will dance on the balcony, Fly Me to the Moon. One day, these things will never change.

One day we will not be Arabs or Muslims or Israelis or Jews. We will not be enemies or others — we all come from there, and we will all return. One day we will not be bound to the manipulated ideologies of states and politicized faiths, but to our common humanity and the faith in each of our beings. One day we will not tolerate but embrace. One day when we are not divided by walls and borders and barriers and checkpoints.

One day we will not be realists, but idealists. Concerned not for what is, but what ought to be. And there are no words to describe us, Alaa. There is really nothing secret about the road, except you and I.

26 items every traveler should have

Photo: enfad

1. Bank cards

Never leave home without your Visa and at least two debits, especially if you have more than one bank account (which is always a good idea).

2. Grocery-store member cards

The shoestring traveler knows that every dollar saved on a box of granola or tube of toothpaste is one more dollar they can spend on the next box of granola or toothpaste.

3. Mini mirror

Vanity is not a backpacker’s vice. Nevertheless, a mirror has more functions than making yourself look decent as a hitchhiker. It can also be used as an emergency signal. If you have a dead camera lying around, the paper-thin metallic disc inside the lens can be salvaged and is super lightweight and reflective.

4. Hostelling International card

Another essential for any traveler. Hostelling International is one of the largest hostelling chains in the world, with over 4,000 hostels in over 80 countries. Being a member gets you priority reservations and discounts and also makes you eligible for annual prize drawings.

5. Twist ties

All but weightless with a thousand uses and counting.

6. Internet/phone card

Our tie to home often comes down to a friendly email or phone call from a friend or family member. Having a ration of minutes in card form is the psychological safety net that allows us to keep moving, even when we’re overwhelmed.

7. First-aid / other certifications

If you decide to work in a foreign country, having some documentation in 8x5cm form not only shows foresight, it also makes you credible to authorities and employers alike.

8. Health / insurance card

Stay safe, stay smart, know your blood type, and keep a record of your allergies, vaccinations, and emergency contact information.

9. Coupons and stamps

Another strategy of the thrifty traveler. Free meals, stamp cards, and discounts all eventually add up, and even if it’s just a coffee or a happy meal from a McDonalds in Bolivia, the fact it’s free somehow makes it taste better and takes the edge off worrying about your funds. Especially important if you frequent chains.

10. Buttons

The size of a pinky nail and practical for fixing your coat, using as tokens in a friendly game of poker on an overnight train, adjusting a wobbly chair at a restaurant, or attaching to a fishhook as a lure.

11. Mini flash drive and light

Carrying a flash drive is an excellent way to share photos, copy documents like eBooks or passport scans, watch movies on long bus rides, and most importantly exchange music (especially when the map of your travels is measured less by kilometers than by the music and the people who introduced you to it). Some drives also come equipped with a miniature LED flashlight, which has innumerable benefits, not the least of which is looking for the power outlet in a dark room.

12. Identification

Another no-brainer, don’t just limit yourself to one piece. Passport photocopies, driver’s licenses, student cards (ISIC), heck, even your member card to the bouldering gym. The more you have that says you’re you, the better off you’ll be in a tight border crossing or customs check (although government-issued ID is the best).

13. Cardboard ruler

I picked this one up by accident. Many notebooks have a cardboard ruler in the back you can cut out, and it fits nicely in most wallets.

14. Thumb-sized pencil

Even if you’re not a writer, a small pencil with a good eraser is the key to responsible traveling. Mark down phone numbers or email addresses of fellow travelers, departure times of buses, addresses to a hostel, or even a word in a foreign language you want to look up later. It also doubles as a roller for duct tape, dry tinder, a toothpick, and a candle. Yes, you can use pencils as candles. Not for very long, but they work.

15. Detachable razor head

Small and safe, a detachable Mach 3 gives you the option of shaving on the go. In a pinch, the plastic head can also be disassembled and each blade removed individually.

16. Paper clips and rubber band

A few paper clips and rubber bands take up virtually no space and are a handy traveler’s best friend when it comes to MacGyver-ing a hair clip, fixing a watch band, holding your laundry in place, or simply marking a page in a borrowed, dog-eared Lonely Planet.

17. Sewing needle and one meter of thread

For emergency surgery, whether on yourself or a pair of well-worn cargo pants. Can be safely stored in the plastic case from a mechanical pencil refill.

18. Waterproof “strike anywhere” matches

Not an imperative item. However, if you find yourself doing some serious bumming and roadside camping, the above pencil refill case makes an excellent weatherproof container for a few matches.

19. Business cards

You’re bound to run into locals and travelers alike, and more than a few of them will have business cards. You never know when you might need to call on their hospitality, or return the favor. They’re the unofficial, underground way of connecting people to other people. They also double as emergency paper if you need to jot down something before you forget.

20. Extra passport pictures

Another light and easy-to-carry item. Say, if you find yourself wanting to apply for a last-minute working-holiday visa in Australia.

21. Transferable bus tickets

A few extra transit or subway tickets can get you out of a bind in a pinch. Additionally, short of cigarettes, they’re probably the second-best nomadic offering if you want to make a new friend.

22. Extra memory card

A safe place for those albums.

23. MEC card

If you’re Canadian, this is one of the few items that sets you apart — the presence of your Mountain Equipment Co-op member card. You never know when you’ll need to refurbish your outdoor supplies.

24. Bike key

The most reliable form of transportation, excluding your own two feet.

25. Money

Many countries have cash-based economies, which can sometimes be hard to get used to if you’re from a card-based economy like Canada or the United States. Always making sure you have an ample supply of paper money on hand makes traveling less stressful, especially if you plan ahead and have more than one currency to bargain with. If at all possible, keep your coinage to a minimum.

26. Shoelace

Some people have wallet chains. I opt for a durable length of hiking shoelace, which doubles as a replacement for my boots.

6 myths about Colombia

Photo: Daniel Piraino

1. It’s unsafe.

Safety always comes up as an issue when foreigners think about paying Colombia a visit; and while the country does have a past full of instances of civil war and violence, I don’t see that as reason to stay away. Colombia is taking its bit of the tourism pie, and with that comes money, infrastructure, and development. Just take a look at Medellin to see how far one city has come from a dangerous pit of unrest to a tourism capital.

2. You might get kidnapped.

If you’re ready to take Colombia off your itinerary because of kidnappings, then you’d better take Malaysia, India, and Mexico off your list, too. According to the Ministry of Defense of Colombia, the number of annual kidnappings has dropped from 2,882 in 2002 to 282 in 2010. Whereas, according to Vocativ, just last year, “almost 1,583 kidnapping cases were reported to Mexican authorities — the highest number since Mexico began tracking kidnapping stats in 1997.”

3. It’s difficult to communicate.

In certain areas of the country, Colombians are known to have the easiest Spanish accent to understand. Not only that, but Tom Stockwell, from travel blog Waegook Tom, says you don’t even need to know Spanish to travel Colombia. “Travelling around the country for one month, I didn’t really need an extensive vocabulary,” he says. “You don’t need to know the language of a place in order to go there.”

4. There’s too much political instability.

I really couldn’t have said it better than journalist Richard McColl, who wrote a piece in response to tourists who took part in reckless activities in the country. “There are times when I wonder why we promote Colombia if the country is a destination for not only the intrepid and educated but also for the plain stupid,” McColl said of two people who had gone missing after embarking on dangerous “treks” in politically heated areas of the country. You can read more about the tourists’ misadventures here.

The moral of the story? There is political turmoil in the country, just don’t be stupid enough to find yourself mixed up in it.

5. Expats can’t find jobs.

Unemployment rates are on the decline in Colombia, and “have decreased by 1.1% in February compared to the same month last year,” according to the National Administrative Department of Statistics.

In Chris Allbritton’s controversial article, 10 Things I Hate About Bogota, he is quick to condemn Bogota as “a black hole, work-wise.”

“There just isn’t a lot of work in Bogotá for extrañeros,” he says.

But I say it comes down to knowledge; if you have knowledge of the language and culture, more opportunities will be available to you. For those who don’t have fluent Spanish on their side, there’s also English teaching, bartending, and the odd acting role.

6. There’s no innovation or development.

In 2011, the BBC called Colombia, “the least well-developed culture of innovation and entrepreneurship” on their list of 24 most entrepreneur-friendly nations.

“Of the polled citizens, Colombians are particularly pessimistic about how innovation and creativity are valued in the country. 46% of the respondents strongly disagreed with the statement that this was valued, while 20% somewhat disagreed,” Colombia Reports wrote of the BBC article.

Earlier this year, the BBC reported on the dramatic changes the country and the economy faced. In their piece “Latin America catches entrepreneurship fever,” Gideon Long wrote about how Colombia and its neighboring countries have embraced business, extending far beyond their bread and butter in raw materials.

“Until recently, entrepreneurship in Peru was a question of survival,” says Gary Urteaga, a Peruvian tech entrepreneur. “People started their own businesses because they couldn’t get a job. They’d sell sandwiches in the streets and wash cars. But now, for the first time, people are choosing to be entrepreneurs.”

The same is happening in Colombia. A medical start-up called Keraderm has won state funding to develop a new technology for skin grafts. “Looking at a country like Colombia, which had several problems in terms of violence and security and all that, we have changed a lot in the past 10 years,” says Jorge Soto, Keraderm’s chief executive. “Now, developed countries are going to have to start looking at us as a source of new ideas and new companies.”

This post was originally published at Sarepa and is reprinted here with permission.