Matador Network's Blog, page 2263

3 reasons to travel to Egypt NOW

Photo: Karen Eliot

Egyptian affairs have been international news since the overthrow of President Mubarak in 2011. Egypt has held onto this unfortunate spotlight following the revolution, coup d’etat, and removal of Mohamed Morsi from office in 2013. Despite everything you hear, here’s why there’s no better time to visit the country.

1. It’s never been so affordable, and it probably never will be again.

Egypt’s economy is desperately dependent on tourism and hospitality. It’s full of the world’s most famous antiquities, as well as some of the most unique landscapes and recreational water activities. You can spend a weekend diving the Blue Hole of Dahab, climb the ancient blocks of the Great Pyramid of Giza, and descend through 3,000-year-old tombs of ancient pharaohs at the Valley of the Kings.

Following a terrorist attack in Luxor in 1997, tourism took a brutal blow, and the country still hasn’t recovered from when the 2011 demonstrations in Tahrir Square hit international news outlets. As a result, major price cuts have occurred in all realms of the Egyptian tourism industry. There’s literally not a thing in Egypt that’s nonnegotiable. A budget traveler can easily find a private room in a hostel or hotel for as cheap as $5, an awesome meal for less than $4, and a tour guide desperate for some work for less than $10/day.

2. Egyptians are ecstatic to host foreigners in their country.

I walked past a “Welcome to Egypt” sign moments after clearing customs in Taba, and a sense of uncertainty overcame me. I questioned if I was naïve in putting so much faith in people I’d never met, and so little trust in dramatized international news stories. I walked another 500 meters, and the manager of the bus stop came outside, sat down next to me on the bench, cut into his orange with his pocketknife, and handed me half. “Welcome to Egypt!” he delightfully beamed. His English was great, and he informed me that my bus wouldn’t arrive for four hours — so I should leave my bags with him and enjoy myself across the street at Taba’s newest outdoor lounge.

This incident wasn’t isolated — on the bus, I had three people sitting near me who welcomed me a dozen times. They offered up their smartphones to help me find lodging in Cairo. One man, Ahmed, even got off the bus and negotiated a cheaper taxi fare for me and later sent me an email just to make sure I successfully landed on my feet in Cairo.

With so little tourism these days, any and all tourists stick out like a KFC across the street from the Sphinx. Every single time I left my hostel, I was approached by complete strangers wishing to welcome me. Nine times out of ten, this was my standard greeting, but at least six or seven times, after replying I was from the US, they’d bellow, “Welcome to Alaska!” I still have absolutely no clue why everybody said it, but it was friendly as hell.

3. You won’t have to wait in line for anything.

Every single attraction, from Cairo’s Citadel to the Temple of Karnak in Luxor, can be your own private playground for a day. In February 2014, there were less than a dozen tourists at both when I arrived. You can guarantee yourself an intimate and personal experience at every attraction you’ve had your heart set on traveling to since seeing The Prince of Egypt as a kid.

Travel guides say that considering the crowds and time-restricted viewings in Luxor, it’s best to secure three days at a minimum in order to see everything. In just one day, I was able to go to the Valley of the Kings, Temple of Karnak, and Hatshepsut, take an afternoon stroll down the banks of the Nile, swipe a half dozen sugarcanes to sample from a passing tractor, and soak in the most remarkable view from any McDonald’s on Earth.

Working on a fishing boat in Alaska

Living on a boat with five other people is something all my future claustrophobic experiences will be measured against. It’s hard enough to live in such close quarters when you get along with your fellow sardines, but that was far from my case. The captain called us the worst crew he ever had. One new father in his early 20s couldn’t get to the boat two hours late — let alone on time — to save his life. Our skiff man was completely occupied with a girlfriend who wanted nothing to do with him. Then, of course, there was me. The new guy who had no clue about what it took to work on a commercial fishing boat in Alaska.

The work was nasty. It was pure repetition starting every day at 3am. Let the skiff go to set the net. Wait. Skiff closes the net. Pile web while not letting the wind blow it onto your partners standing just to your right and left. Dodge the red jellyfish oozing off the web. Use the hydraulics to haul the catch onto the deck. Repeat. Somewhere between letting the skiff off and piling web, I cooked three meals and drank three ulcers worth of coffee. On good nights we got three hours of sleep.

It was the type of experience about which people say “gives you character.” I can’t argue with that. I can’t explain it, but the entire thing sucked so completely that I have nothing but positive memories of it. The frustration and animosity made the decent moments that much sweeter. Seeing whales breach and working outside for good money is an opportunity most will never have.

1

The Aleshaley
The purse seine fishing boat Aleshaley plies the waters near Sitka, Alaska.





2

Captain Granberg
Captain Kevin Granberg barks directions at his crew before controlling the hydraulic hook that pulls the net from the water.





3

Letting out the skiff
While the captain mans the hydraulic controls, it is up to the skiff man, tethered by a heavy-duty rope, to keep the larger fishing vessel off the rocks.




Intermission





How to get work on an Alaskan fishing boat





What it’s like to work on a cruise ship in Alaska





Memories of summer in Alaska

















4

The outsider
Skiff men are the goalies of the fishing world. They are the "go it alone" outsiders cut from their own very different cloth. They are responsible for setting the net and staying in constant radio contact with the captain.





5

Bringing in the net
The skiff brings in the net while the rest of the crew gets ready to haul the load on deck.





6

Wenching the net
The net is sucked out of the water by a wench and overhead power block. The crew is responsible for stacking each of the three sections of the net: the cork, web, and lead line.





7

Stacking the net
Trevor Volk stacks the net’s corks in a circular pattern. When in the water the corks float just above the surface while the net is pulled down by the lead line.





8

The haul
Thousands of pounds of salmon hit the deck of the Aleshaley. After the fish are brought on board, they are kicked into the refrigerated belly of the boat where they float until delivered to a larger vessel called a tender later in the day.





9

Offloading
Trevor Volk positions the large vacuum that will suck the water and salmon out of the fishing boat and into the tender where they will be sorted and later delivered to a cannery.





10

The remains
After the vacuum has sucked out most of the water and fish, it's up to the crew to get what remains onto the tender. It’s important to have a quick eye, as the value of certain types of salmon plummets if they are put through the crude and sometimes destructive vacuum.





11

The benefits
While the work is backbreaking, the views are unbeatable.

15 signs you're from Melbourne

Photo: Logan Campbell

1. You believe there’s no better coffee on the planet.

Our coffee is among the best and we know it. We complain about the bitter crap coffee when we travel and normally spend hours looking through Lonely Planet reviews to find that one coffeeshop which might be okay. When we finally do find that one coffeeshop on the other side of the world, we just tell the barista “I’m from Melbourne” and watch the sweat drip down their face. It’s on!

2. You hate Sydney with passion.

We will take any chance we can get to abuse Sydney — the people are snobby, it’s too expensive, it’s full of one-way streets, the roads are horrific, the food is rubbish. For your own sake, just tell us that you prefer Melbourne; you might even get a frothy (beer).

3. You think you’re cultured.

Chances are the next Melburnian you bump into has some sort of ethnic background. Hell, I do! We have streets dedicated to the Greeks, Italians, Chinese, Turkish, and Lebanese, just to mention a few. Somehow, this all of a sudden makes us cultured.

4. You believe Melbourne is the sports capital of the world…

We host one of the four tennis Grand Slams in Melbourne — the Australian Open. We host the Formula 1 Grand Prix. We have four football codes for only 4 million people. We have the best golf course in the country. We have one of the highest capacity stadiums in the world, the Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG). We get a public holiday every year for a horse race that supposedly stops the nation, the Melbourne Cup.

More like this: What NOT to do in Melbourne

Where else in the world can you get paid to get pissed , bet on horses, and have a barbecue all day for a race that lasts approximately three minutes?

If that’s not enough, we love cricket…and we actually find it entertaining.

5. …and that AFL is a religion.

The “watermelon sport,” as my dad calls it. AFL, one of the four football codes (or ‘footy’ as we call it), is what we live and breathe by. You’ll notice the different footy team colours sweeping the city every weekend, especially on Grand Final day, supporters with bucked-up teeth moaning and screaming phrases like walruses on steroids.

Here’s a tip: Insult a Collingwood supporter (team with black and white colours) and see what happens.

6. You’ve worn sunnies, thongs, a singlet, raincoat, and sweater all in a day’s work.

Ah, yes! The infamous four seasons in a day. The wind will blow your umbrella out of your hands (it’s happened to me twice), but hey, it makes the day more interesting. Just don’t bother messing with your hair. Melburnians call it “character building.”

7. You’ve had hot jam doughnuts from Queen Vic Market.

You’re not from Melbourne if:

1) You haven’t had the hot jam doughnuts from the Doughnut Van at the Queen Victoria Market that’s lined with people waiting to get their fix and 2) you don’t like or haven’t been to the Queen Victoria Market.

8. You’ve made a hook turn.

It’s simple, “You need to turn left to turn right,” as most Melburnians will yelp. We just love confusing the hell out of people.

9. You ‘simplify’ everyone’s name.

We’re too lazy to call you by your birth name. You need a nickname, and it’s generally made by ending your first or last name with an “a,” “o,” “z,” or “y,” whichever works better. For example:

Barry = Bazza

David = Davo

Teresa = Tez

Paul = Pauly

If those letters don’t work, we’ll be sure to find something for you.

And if that doesn’t confuse you, we also do it with any word possible — come to Melbs, have a barbie on a Sundy arvo, watch the footy, and have a cuppa with grans.

10. You love trams.

We have the largest network of trams in the world, and we just can’t get enough of them. We grow up getting told that Melbourne is so special and different because it has trams. We soon realise that most of the world has trams. What a surprise!

They may stop every two minutes, take an extra hour to get to your destination, and cause traffic jams, but yes, we love trams.

11. You’re a fashionista.

Like it or not, we’re into fashion in some shape or form. If you’re one of the many Melbourne hipsters, you’ll generally have one piece of clothing from a thrift shop. It’s still a fashion statement!

We’re called the fashion capital for a reason. Look at the numerous clothing stores at Chadstone Shopping Centre, Chapel Street, or Bridge Road. You’ll not find another city in Australia where people pride themselves on their image. So you’re corporate? Well, I bet you purchased that suit, shirt, and tie from Rhodes & Beckett.

The city is sprawling with chequered short-sleeve shirts, chino shorts, loafers, and of course the Blues Brothers-inspired wayfarer Ray Bans.

12. You’re a massive foodie.

We love our cafés, restaurants, and bars tucked away in countless laneways or character-filled suburbs. We know what to eat and where to eat. After all, we have the best selection of restaurants in the country and host the annual Food and Wine Festival. Just don’t expect to find us at home on a Sunday morning.

13. You’ve complained about the Myki system.

Myki, the maligned public transport ticketing system that cost over $1.5 billion of taxpayers’ money and was delayed by five years. And it still doesn’t work properly! Every Melburnian’s said “bloody Myki” at least once in their time.

14. You’ve told someone, “No dramas, mate.”

So you’ve missed your flight home: “No dramas, mate.”

So you’ve passed out on the street: “No dramas, mate.”

So you’re caught urinating in public: “No dramas, mate.”

Not much will faze us. Just relax and take it easy.

15. You’ve ended your night at the Crown Casino.

You didn’t get into a bar: casino.

You got kicked out of a bar: casino.

You’re feeling unlucky: casino.

I’m feeling lucky! CASINO!

World's largest school of rays [vid]

Mobula rays are not small creatures. They can measure two meters — about six and a half feet — from wingtip to wingtip, and they’re known for being jumpers.

So naturally the view must’ve been breathtaking when National Geographic’s new show, Untamed Americas, managed to capture a school of tens of thousands of mobula rays swarming and flying just off the coast of Baja California, Mexico. Schools of these rays can be regularly seen in the Gulf of California — though usually the schools are nowhere near this large — and some have been known to breach the water as much as two meters into the air.

These aren’t the biggest of the eagle rays — that would be the manta ray, which can measure 23 feet from tip to tip. Fortunately, mantas do not travel in schools this large…a small fishing boat caught in the middle of a manta ray breach might have some problems.

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.