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10 reasons to keep a travel journal

Photo: nahlinse

1. Because memory is a slippery bugger.

When I was 31, I backpacked alone through Vietnam without a journal. I’d recently purchased a pricey camera, so I enthusiastically snapped hundreds of photos, never bothering to write down a word. Not surprisingly, what I retain from that trip are imprecise memories and a shoebox filled with slides of people and places I can no longer name. Furthermore, because I traveled solo, I can’t even poach my friends’ memories for missing details. In short, I didn’t bother asking myself what I’d want to remember and what I’d likely forget.

When traveling, we assign more significance to our experiences than we do to the happenings of our daily life. That outlook, along with our tricked-out digital camera and its generous memory card, instills a false sense of confidence about how much we’ll retain. Out on the road, life is so electric, jazzy, fresh, and funky — how could we ever forget? But we do. We forget, and then we hate ourselves later for mistreating our own memories.

No matter how unique, powerful, outrageous, or touching our story, the mind’s flimsy hard drive simply cannot be relied upon to safeguard the particulars. But a journal is personal travel insurance, protecting our memories from strolling off unchaperoned, vanishing without a goodbye or backwards glance. This is the driving force behind most people’s road journals, and although basic, its importance cannot be overstated.

2. There’s no better keepsake than a tattered notebook.

Journals get tucked away in drawers or basements to be dusted off years or generations later and enjoyed for the tactile sensation that only an old, beloved book can deliver. Nothing can replace a road-worn journal filled with scribbles, coffee cup rings, doodles, and bus tickets.

Years from now, when your journal unexpectedly finds its way back into your hands on a day when you have time to open it, it’s time travel — a complimentary door-to-door shuttle delivering you back to your most fearless and fascinated self, when you were out roaming, eyes wide open, connecting to the world and its people, tracing the journey within the pages of your messy notebook. It’s more than a collection of words; it’s a personal artifact.

3. Because you need an anchor.

Any way you look at it, travel stirs us up. It’s a stimuli smorgasbord with a menu of curiosity, frustration, self-consciousness, bliss, courage, vulnerability, stress, alienation, titillation, fear, loss, boredom, lust, loneliness, awe — you name it. And in addition to emotions, we’re perpetually absorbing information and sensory phenomena. But a notebook is a traveler’s salve, soothing the commotion of our relentless thoughts by providing a safe container for them. The act of writing anchors us, slowing and deepening our reflections so that we articulate with more honesty and precision than when we think and talk. To my mind, this is the ultimate reward of a travel journal: being forced, routinely, to slow down and pay attention.

Journaling demands stillness and extreme concentration. If we set aside even a few minutes a day to sit with our notebook and write about where we are and what we’re currently experiencing with all our senses, it becomes a practice. It frees us from thinking only of past and future — the site we’ve just visited or our next destination. We can let go of hopes and fears as we bring attention to this moment, then the next, and the one after that. Over time these brief, disconnected moments of awareness form a cohesive thread, a solid habit of increased mindfulness that can carry over into all areas of life.

4. And a sacred space to call your own.

When we travel solo, a journal keeps us company. Conversely, traveling with others means we get our fair share of camaraderie but routinely forfeit our privacy. We double up on rooms, rides, meals, and lavatories; share maps, gear, and dry socks. But your notebook is private property. You won’t be asked to lend it out. It can thus become a haven, a sacred oasis to come home to when travel has thrown you off-kilter — a personal traveling shrine or altar where you commune with only you.

5. Journaling is a profound vehicle for self-discovery.

While any journal is a portal to expanded awareness, the travelogue is an unparalleled avenue for self-discovery. Paired with the myriad rewards and ordeals of travel, it can solicit breakthroughs that other journals simply cannot. Travel tilts us off our axis and enrolls us in a crash course in cutting through desire, attachment, aversion, and ignorance.

On the road, we’re in constant flux — it’s an impermanence free-for-all. Leaving home demands that we surrender control, break out of cozy routines, and confront inconvenience and obstacles (travel’s ever-present entourage) around each corner. We’re continually forced to reassess our entrenched beliefs, as well as question social and cultural concepts we’ve grown up accepting as appropriate and normal — from the way we discipline children, to what constitutes breakfast food, to how we bathe, shake hands, and clothe ourselves. Keeping a journal while navigating the discoveries and obstacles that come with travel is a rare and extraordinary opportunity for growth.

6. You might need that odd bit of information.

On the most basic and practical level, a travelogue is a vault of information that you wish to preserve — the name of that historic hotel in Livingston, Montana, the artist you discover at the Uffizi Gallery, the family you bunk with in Tunisia, or the location of a dreamy holistic spa in Jamaica. A journal can store practical info that you want to remember but not necessarily share with your blog readers or email list.

Some photographers keep journals of locations, film, and camera settings, while chefs store recipes and lists of ingredients in their journals to reference later. If you’re a detail hound, you can even begin a table of contents on the first page to be filled in as you go. It’ll be painless to find information later, such as favorite restaurants, inns, shops, campsites, or spas you want to recommend to fellow travelers (or better yet, return to yourself).

7. It’s the world’s best writing exercise.

In Fresh Air Fiend, Paul Theroux commented, “When people ask me what they should do to become a writer, I seldom mention books. I assume the person has a love for the written word, and solitude, and a disdain for wealth — so I say, ‘You want to be a writer? First leave home.’”

Travel has the ability to make writers of us all, and keeping a journal is what can turn the potential into reality. Throw yourself in the mix and you’ve got the winning trifecta: Travel supplies endless material and inspiration, the Travelogue provides a canvas and demands commitment and examination, and you, the intrepid and attentive Traveler, are the prime candidate for the position.

One of travel’s great benefits is that once we cross a border, we needn’t even seek out creative inspiration — it’s everywhere. We step off the runway and within hours find ourselves surrounded by plants and flowers we don’t recognize and animals we’ve seen only in zoos or on TV. We interact with people who speak only words we can’t understand, observe customs contrary to our own, pay for exotic trinkets with Monopoly money, eat unidentifiable food. For some, this can be unsettling. For the writer, it’s a windfall.

8. “Elsewhere” is a place creativity grows.

Pablo Picasso said, “All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.” That problem, I think, can be solved with travel. Travel renews our youth, giving us dispensation to reclaim the original zest for art so often rooted out of us as adults. Surrounded by the unfamiliar, we regain the eyes of a six-year-old, and suddenly we’re handed all the conditions necessary to become an artist again: inspiration, free time, a portable canvas (the journal), and a cornucopia of exotic materials at our disposal. Can you think of a better environment for revamping your creativity?

Infusing your notebook with visual components is more than a pleasurable, relaxing activity with a visual payoff; the act of doing so also immediately intensifies your connection to a location, adding another layer of self-awareness and expression. By deciding to include artwork of any kind, you’re signing on to register impressions in a new way — with keen observation. When you return home, accompanying you will be a dynamic hybrid journal that interweaves writing and imagery — a tribute to your experience and destination.

9. A shared journal can help you connect.

If you’re traveling with a friend or spouse, creating a shared journal can bring you closer and foster a sense of unity. The upshot of this is multifold: First, by sharing the goal of a travelogue, you’re more likely to commit since you’ll be loath to flake on each other. Furthermore, when you’re not feeling the writing vibe, he or she may be — you’ll egg each other on. Knowing you’ll be sharing your words will also up the ante, adding zing to your writing. One more bonus is that you’ll no longer rely strictly on your own mind, so when your memory falters, your friend might provide insight into the circumstances that led to you falling off your camel in Giza or your barstool in Berlin.

If you’re in a group, you can create a feeling of community by starting an “open” notebook that members of your group can contribute to at any time. At trip’s end, photocopy it for everyone or create a separate album with pictures, quotes, names, inside jokes, highlights, and lowlights. Even if you and your friends are together 24/7, you bring to the book distinctive perspectives. You’ll appreciate accessing their take on shared experiences, and you’ll learn from these secondhand impressions. Ultimately, your friends’ stories will inform your own.

10. It’s a wonderful outlet for handling travel stress.

Travel isn’t always easy; sometimes it can completely derail you. On these occasions, the journal can be your lifeline, something solid and steadfast to grab hold of in the midst of upheaval. When feelings of homesickness, powerlessness, frustration, or fear wiggle their nasty little fangs into your erstwhile perfect vacation, you can draw strength and comfort from writing — using your journal as a refuge and a reminder of how resilient you are and how courageous you want to be. If you start losing your temper (or sense of humor), you can call on your journal to help you find it again. That’s what it’s there for. Your journal will help you cope, like a portable therapist. You might even find you can be more honest with your notebook than with your therapist.

This post is excerpted from Writing Away: A Creative Guide to Awakening the Journal-Writing Traveler and was originally published here.

The post 10 reasons to keep a travel journal appeared first on Matador Network.

Off the beaten track in Vietnam

Photo: United Nations Photo

“What have you been doing?” I asked my guide after he arrived an hour late to go for dinner.

“Drinking,” was his short, slurred answer. With a challenging stare he dared me to comment. I merely nodded and suggested we find something to eat.

We were in a small Degar village in the central highlands of Vietnam, on the third day of a four-day motorcycle trip. I had met Anh on the streets of Nha Trang, where I told him I wanted to escape the pretty picture presented to the bucket-guzzling backpackers and see the country for what it truly was. Anh promised to show me the ‘real’ Vietnam.

He was a quiet, brooding man, but a good guide. He knew the roads perfectly, pointed out sights I wouldn’t otherwise see, and answered my questions before I asked them. The only criticism was that every night he got blind drunk. That day he started drinking at 4pm. While I explored the village, Anh had aimed for oblivion with rice wine. I was hungry, tired, and sore from the day’s riding. I wanted to eat and go to bed.

The first place we went was shut. We moved on and heard a ruckus coming from a stilted hut to our right. It was far from the road but the din was strong and promised the type of scene Anh was looking for. We climbed a ladder fashioned from a log and stood at the entrance. Inside were about 40 men. Some sat on benches along the edges of the room, drinking brown rice wine from glass Coca-Cola bottles. Five very large ceramic jugs of rice wine were set in the center of the room, with other men drinking from them through bamboo and plastic straws. The men were of all ages, the youngest teenagers smoking hurriedly, sitting on the floor on the outskirts of conversations. They barely noticed our appearance at the doorway, apart from one villager, who welcomed us.

We found an open space in the corner and sat down on the floor. The man who greeted us brought over two bottles of the murky rice wine.

“Anh, can we eat here?”

“Yes, but later,” he said to me curtly.

“When?” I asked. He ignored the question, talked with the man, and then turned to me. “This is a special Vietnamese wedding. You should feel lucky to experience the culture. People pay thousands of dong for such a unique experience!”

“This is a wedding?” I asked, stunned.

It didn’t look like a celebration. The people’s clothes were third-hand and in tatters, except for one man in a black and gold collared shirt who Anh explained was the groom. The bride was cooking in the kitchen with the other women. This swayed me, and I tried to explain I was happy to be there, just hungry. “You need to go to the army,” he told me disapprovingly. “Would you rather be with your friends at a full moon party? Or here seeing this? Do not get angry. Come, drink more.” All of this was garbled and spat out.

Now I found myself in the kind of unique situation I proclaimed to be so desperately after, and I had second thoughts.

I took a deep breathe and considered his questions. I looked around slowly again and noticed the side glances and muted conversations. I realized we were in fact not welcome at all. It seemed like we were intruding, and Anh, in his intoxicated state, was oblivious.

Anh talked to the man who had welcomed us. He disappeared and returned with a bowl of rice, fruit, and sauce. As he crossed the hut, every head turned and watched the food. A salivating hush descended. Judging by the looks, everyone was just as hungry as I was. As the food was placed in front of us, I looked up to see every face heavy with envy — some of the drunker ones were incensed. One older man shouted something that shattered the silence.

“What did he say?” I whispered to Ahn.

“I don’t know. I don’t speak his language. Eat,” he told me.

Slowly the men returned their focus to the conversations and drinking. Others displayed their outrage by shooting over cruel glances between sips of rice wine. Anh dished up the food and gave it to me. I was so hungry I decided all I could do was eat. After one small bowl my head immediately felt clearer. Anh didn’t touch his.

“Why aren’t you eating, Ahn? Eat,” I told him.

“I’m not hungry. I’ve already eaten.” I just looked at him. I was too exasperated to argue.

As I ate, I started to perceive the villagers differently. They didn’t appear to be as malicious as I initially discerned. They were rightfully skeptical of outsiders, especially on such an auspicious occasion. I realized we deserved to be treated as the intruders we were.

I had a long sip of wine and considered the night. The allure of this motorbike trip was to see the raw, uncensored Vietnam. Now, it seemed, I found myself in the kind of unique situation I proclaimed to be so desperately after, and I immediately had second thoughts.

It occurred to me that the romantic allure of off-the-beaten-path travel was different to the reality. I had been thinking of this trip for years and in my dreams created an illusion so grand it would be impossible to live up to. My imagination only included the glory of adventure and discovery and never any discomfort or harsher reality. Two weeks into my seven-month journey through Asia, and I was already second-guessing myself. Maybe I would be happier at a full moon party.

We drank more of the rice wine, and I felt better, less anxious. Eventually the food was brought out, which Anh told me was dog meat. When our rice wine was finished, Anh decided it was time to leave.

The next day as we rode out of the village, I was left with a hangover and the persistent question of how I should have managed the situation better, and if I really did want to persist with this line of travel. As the rice fields and mountains slipped by and we got further from the village, I cheered up. Further from the questions that the previous night had posed and closer to Nha Trang, where I would be able to return to familiar comforts, similar people, and indulging in those buckets. Relieved to return to the very things I initially wanted to escape.

The post What happens when “off the beaten track” isn’t where you really want to be? appeared first on Matador Network.

Yankees are the #1 baseball team

MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL season officially started this week in the USA. While it may be the most boring sport on earth, I enjoy the occasional excuse to be drunk for three hours, and cheer on my home team. I used to think New Yorkers were biased towards the Yankees, as they are pretty much the greatest team ever (the Mets are fine, but have been a long-running joke for most of us), but apparently, everyone else legitimately thinks so too.

In places that don’t have a state baseball brand, it’s easy to root for a team that has won the World Series 27 times — but I wonder if Yankee fan distribution is so widespread, because New York has one of the highest move-out rates in the country.

H/T NBC 4 New York.

The post This map proves that the Yankees are America’s #1 baseball team appeared first on Matador Network.

31 sure signs you're from Florida

Photo: Ricardo Mangual

Today I live in a drought-suffering desert over a mile above sea level, but I was born and raised in a place that’s exactly the opposite of that: central Florida, cultural nexus, land of Southern mindsets without the Southern charm. If you’re a native Floridian too, you probably already know what that’s like.

1. You know the joys of hush puppies.

No seafood joint’s menu is complete without this Gulf Coast delicacy. My New Yorker brother-in-law, after trying them in my hometown’s canal-side upscale seafood restaurant, later asked, “Can we get more of those fried balls of dough?” That about sums it up.

2. You know the joys of Yuengling.

The nation’s oldest brewing company is actually distributed across the East, and if you grew up in Florida, you know it as the king of the upper-bottom-tier gas station beers.

3. You know there are three Floridas.

NoFlo (no one calls it that) is basically southern Georgia/Alabama. SoFlo (ditto) is northern Cuba/DR/South America and a retirement abyss. CenFlo (ditto) is a confused a-cultural region where all the tourist stuff is.

4. You’ve never paid for entry into theme parks.

Trust me — there’s always a way.

5. You know Gatorland, Cypress Gardens, Reptile Land, Dinosaur World, etc.

Florida was once bustling with a charming array of minor theme parks adults would try to convince you were just as cool as Disney when you were a kid. Some of them actually were.

6. You only occasionally care about Florida pro sports that aren’t basketball.

Even then, most people still don’t care about the Heat unless they’re from Miami, the Magic ditto Orlando. Otherwise, every Florida pro sports fan abides by a rollercoaster relationship with their teams: You love the Marlins until the Yankees gut their young talent, you pretend to care about the Dolphins on Sundays, you forget we have hockey teams, and no one watches the Jags.

7. Crazy-things-that-happened-in-Florida lists don’t surprise you.

I’ve read the last few years’ worth of these from Buzzfeed and thought they were funny in a quaint, nostalgic kind of way. I even went to high school with somebody on the list, and another who should have made the list after making CNN for getting his arm bit off by a gator.

8. You can’t breathe in higher altitudes.

Florida is practically below sea level. If you’re a native Floridian and have tried running up and down hills or hiking mountains, you suddenly realized what asthmatics must feel like.

9.You know where crocodiles come from.

No, there are no crocodiles in Florida. There are, incidentally, lots and lots of Crocs.

10. You don’t notice sweat.

In July in Florida, you can walk to your car, grab the phone you left in there, and come back inside to see fresh pit-puddles on your shirt when you pass the mirror. If you hadn’t seen it, you never would have known.

11. You’re just a little bit Southern.

Even the ones like me who moved off and eschew Southern-ness still at least crave BBQ, own shotguns, and obsess over the football teams of schools they didn’t attend.

12. You know Universal is way, way better than Disney.

When you grow up taking annual field trips to theme parks, you figure out after you’re like seven years old that unless you’re a girl who still wants to be a princess, Disney World kind of sucks. Everyone wishes they could go to Hogwarts, though — I don’t care how old you are.

13. FSU v. UF is the biggest rivalry in sports.

It doesn’t matter what part of Florida you’re from (well, maybe not way south) — your life was at some point in some way affected by the country’s biggest redneck football rivalry.

14. You know the Tampa shit-hole paradox.

Tampa is one of the more interesting cities I’ve ever been to, mostly because it’s a total shit hole while also being cool in a cousin-with-a-weird-social-disorder-who-makes-funny-jokes-about-your-uncle kind of way. This is also the anomalous sports city, and the only place you’ll find actual Rays, Bucks, or Lightning fans.

15. You think Tampa is a joke.

Everyone from Florida eyes Tampa with the skepticism with which they’d buy street food in an Asian island country. However, Tampians will defend their city like the parent of a highly spoiled and deeply idiotic child: You don’t understand — that’s just how he is.

16. You know where to find carnies in the off-season.

Gibsontown and Valrico are infamous carnie haunts. Wondering where you might find them? You guessed it, right by Tampa. (Non-Floridians, are you getting the idea about Tampa yet?)

17. You’ve had thong tans on your feet.

I personally hate flip-flops, but a lot of people wear them 12 months out of the year in Florida, giving them a lovely big-toe farmer’s tan.

18. You know Dexter was definitely not shot on-location.

There are not nearly enough armpit stains in Dexter’s long-sleeved shirts.

19. You’re okay with swimming anywhere there’s water.

Canals, ditches, ponds, lakes, oceans, retention ponds, reservoirs, swimming pools — you name it, most Floridians have swum it. Whether they lived to tell about it isn’t always a given, though.

20. A landfill qualifies as a hill.

NoFlo (again, no one actually says that) actually has hills since it’s basically, as stated, southern Georgia/Alabama. For the rest of us, colossal mounds of waste have to suffice.

21. The idea of snow tires is absurd.

You actually have to change your car tires for just a few months out of the year? Why do you even drive?

22. You have no idea what a radiator is.

I live 2k miles away now, and I still don’t know.

23. You have no idea what the Polar Vortex is.

Again, I still don’t know.

24. You say ‘up north’ and still refer to the South.

Sometimes this applies even after you move to a different region. I’m pretty sure I’ve said it while living in the Southwest to refer to South Carolina.

25. Turning on the heat just means turning off the AC.

In the in-between temperatures this might also entail opening the doors and windows, depending on your proximity to standing water.

26. You didn’t know your feet could get cold.

I went to see my sister in NYC in December one year with only a pair of Toms. I coped by doubling up on socks and walking in place.

27. Your thickest jacket is a flannel.

I have two winter coats: the one I got to visit my sister in 2009 and the absurdly bulky leather jacket my dad used to wear in the ’80s when he lived up north (Maryland).

28. 60 degrees is cold.

Mom: “It’s going to get down to 60 today. Better take your heavy flannel!”

29. You’ve been to Orlando for some reason other than tourism.

Concerts, college, conferences, field trips, internships, a job, just passing through…I personally lived there for five years (four for college), and I can tell you even the majority of people who live there moved there for a reason.

30. Long-distance travel gives you phantom E-Pass/SunPass syndrome.

Toll roads are a way of life in Florida. After moving away, I still sometimes feel like I’m doing something wrong if I’m not paying money just to drive on a highway.

31. You know the ‘secret’ to removing love bugs from your car.

Soapy water and dryer sheets, according to my mom. (Does driving through a cloud of love bugs remind anyone else of the Millennium Falcon entering hyperdrive?)

The post 31 signs you were born and raised in Florida appeared first on Matador Network.

Skiing Powder Mountain, Utah [vid]

Day 1

We arrived at Powder Mountain just in time. The road was still open and lifts still spinning after 6” the night before. Hungry for powder, we didn’t even stop for groceries on the way up — this would turn out to be a bad decision, as the storm was just setting in. We met up with good friend and Marketing Director at Powder Mountain, Patrick Lundin, who guided us into the goods for an awesome first day. Little did we know, the lifts would not be turning for the rest of our time at Powder Mountain Resort.

Day 2

Awakening to the deep rumbling of avalanche control after a night of howling wind against our small mountainside condo, we geared up to find out what was going on. Good friend Kyle Clancy just barely managed to squeak up the road to join us before it closed for the day, along with the chairlifts. Luckily, the Summit Series folks were also snowed in and out in force for a day of catskiing. They kindly let us in on the action, and we lapped some awesome low-angle tree runs all day long.

Watch more: What it looks like to ski the greatest snow on Earth


Day 3

Deja vu, except this time we’d run out of the bacon and oatmeal we’d salvaged from the ski lodge freezer. The cats weren’t running, the road was still not open, and the 4+ feet of snow outside the condo had incapacitated almost every car in the parking lot. As ski patrol worked hard to mitigate the avalanche danger, we messed around on snowbank side-hits, adventured out on splitboards and powsurfers, and watched our fair share of Olympic ice skating.

Day 4

The three-day blizzard we called “PowMageddon” was clearing, and the hordes of powder hounds were finally let up the road, but our appetite for a fresh meal and new scenery got the best of us. As the first chairs were being loaded, we were on our way down the road to what would be an all-time bluebird day at neighboring Snowbasin. Fresh blue air and light blower snow made for an amazing day on what’s perhaps the best kept secret in Utah.

After four solid days in the midst of Northern Utah’s biggest winter storm, we needed no more convincing of why they call it the Greatest Snow on Earth.

This post is brought to you by Utah, home of The Greatest Snow On Earth®. With 11 ski resorts less than an hour from Salt Lake City International Airport, there’s plenty of powder for the perfect ski vacation.

The post Powder Mountain ski mission: Waist-deep in Utah’s finest appeared first on Matador Network.

The 32 best Airbnbs in Rio

Space is clearly limited in Rio. Even the more expensive apartments are tiny by many standards, with bathrooms resembling closets and kitchens resembling hallways. Beds are squeaked in wall-to-wall. The magic is in those that manage to take the space they have and turn it into something more, through excellent and beautiful curation.

Here are some of the best Airbnbs to stay in while visiting Rio de Janeiro.

The ultra cush

$3555/night • Rua República do Peru, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22021-040, Brazil

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One of the most expensive Airbnbs I could find in Rio, this place is like the slightly-more-upscale version of the next listing. That said, oh my god, that bathroom. You know the one, with its black marble Jacuzzi. Also, Andy Warhol gallery. ‘Nuff said.

$3081/night • Rua Pompeu Loureiro, Rio, Rio de Janeiro 22061, Brazil

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There are at least two major components of this listing I’m going to mention. First and foremost, spiral staircase. I love them; I can’t help myself. Secondly, flippin’ glow pool. With light-up bar and water curtains.

$2500/night • R. Santa Gláfira, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22610-300, Brazil

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This place, with its wonderful wooden doors and colorful kitchen, is the exact thing I fantasize about when I imagine getting away from the grey of Portland and escaping to some faraway magical not-Portland. I wish I were kidding, but I seriously honest-to-god believe I’ve dreamed of this place, down to the cow clock in the kitchen.

$2495/night • Rua Jackson de Figueiredo, Rio, Rio de Janeiro 22611, Brazil

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Every single photo looks like it was taken from a different movie. First one is clearly Jurassic Park. Second one is the set of every soap opera ever. Third one looks like Forgetting Sarah Marshall. I’m going to skip the dining room because it’s boring, but the fifth one looks straight out of The Princess Bride. And so on, and so forth. What would you pay to live in a bunch of different movies for the weekend?

$1405/night • R. Vinícius de Moraes, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 21072-540, Brazil

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Sadly, this listing taught me something new, and even more sadly it had absolutely nothing to do with Rio and its neighborhoods. Instead, I now know that SONOS is a thing which exists, and when comparing the price of the unit to the price of this rental, I may have to get one of those and just pretend I’m at this place instead.

$1276/night • Rua Nascimento Silva, Rio, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

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There’s one in every batch — the apartment or home that looks as though the professional design and marketing team for a home furniture store designed it. Literally every single room of this looks like it was copied and pasted from a home-design site. Places like this don’t really exist outside the contrived magazine setting this was so blatantly ripped from, so that would be the obvious bonus to shelling out the 1.2 Gs to visit it.

$8822/wk • R. Gen. Urquisa, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22431-040, Brazil

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The offerings for this place are as extensive as they are, indeed, grand. However, I can’t read or comprehend any of them because the clause “…is equipped with swimming pool, steamed sauna, and barbecue settings…” might as well be bold, underlined, italicized, and put into size 100 font. I can’t see anything else, nor would I want to.

$1093/night • Estrada da Gávea, Rio, Rio de Janeiro 22451, Brazil

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This house, from its crisp edges to its poured-concrete countertops, is artsy as hell, but it’s also clearly well thought out, and there’s a place for everything (including flip-flops, evidently). It’s the kind of neat that straddles the line between appealing to my mild OCD and taunting me to touch something I’m not supposed to. ‘Great House in Gavea,’ you are a wonderful tease, and if I could afford it I would stay in you in a heartbeat.

$1000/night • Rua Antônio Basílio, Rio, Rio de Janeiro 20511-190, Brazil

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Take a gander at this incredible apartment: four bedrooms, accommodations for 10, 3D 50” television, 30Mbps internet (dwarfing the paltry offerings I have from my current ISP), and a big-ass sliding door. Also, that kitchen. I would live in that apartment just about anywhere.

$937/night • Avenida Rainha Elizabeth da Bélgica, Rio, Rio de Janeiro 22081-031, Brazil

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This place looks pretty much identical to every Kidrobot store I’ve ever seen, from the color balances, to the lighting, and even to the decor (some of which I’m 80% certain actually came from Kidrobot). So modern and sleek, this place is probably as expensive as it is because of how massive it is by Rio standards.

The midrange

$360/night • Rua Francisco Sá, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22080-010, Brazil

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Holy crap, look at this place! “Projector with hand-painted mural off to the right,” pretty much says it all. That, and a bed-facing, ceiling-mounted TV. I could die there happy, by which I mean I can afford to spend one night there, and hopefully I’ll just die during that night.

$260/night • Rua Alberto de Campos, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22411-030, Brazil

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This place sort of reminds me of a futuristic diner from the ‘80s. It’s probably the stools. Yes, the washing machine is seamlessly integrated into the rest of the kitchen appliances, and, yes, one of the bedrooms looks a bit like a woodland cabin, but the marble-inlayed Jacuzzi tub in one of the three bathrooms made me reconsider. Plus, with three rooms (two of which are luxury suites) and accommodations for eight, this place is a steal at $32.50 provided you’ve got seven other friends to split it with.

$250/night • Av. Atlântica, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22070-000, Brazil

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This place is awesome, super modern, and super dangerous. The danger comes from being that close to the beach and being that white on every surface. You’re obviously going to get sand everywhere, and it’s going to show.

$167/night • Rua Visconde de Pirajá, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22410-001, Brazil

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Spiral staircases weirdly stuck in the middle of the living room, batman! Though this place is somewhat unremarkable, as far as penthouses go, the view alone pretty much justifies the price tag. (Not to mention security, double bedrooms, and sauna access. Like no big deal.)

$154/night • Rua Duvivier, Rio, Rio de Janeiro 22020-020, Brazil

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This is basically an upscale hotel, complete with TV, doorman, 24-hour concierge service, the whole nine. The difference, however, is that you do have to cook your own meals, but at least you can cook them in the fully equipped kitchen.

$142/night • Rua Desembargador Alfredo Russel, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro

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It’s as charming as it was obviously furnished by hipsters. However, between the two bedrooms and living room full of intriguing doodads and tasteful art selection, this place is not a bad choice for a grownup holiday.

$132/night • R. Barata Ribeiro, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22040-002, Brazil

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This two-bedroom apartment two blocks from the beach sleeps five for one price, with only $13 a night for every guest thereafter. That’s an incredibly affordable $26.20 per person a night for those 5 guests, to stay in an apartment a stone’s throw from a beach in Rio.

$118/night • Av. Gen. San Martin, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22441-015, Brazil

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This self-proclaimed “photographer’s loft” is pretty sweet in and of itself, but the gem in this listing is the included photos of the neighborhood, from the dope discotheque to the 24-hour pizza and beer lounge. I’d never want to leave.

The cheap

$90/night • R. Alm. Alexandrino, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 20241-265, Brazil

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I want to go to there. It’s like a jungly refuge, the perfect hideout to meet my agent contact and pick up the dossiers for our next mission. Okay, so maybe the ragdolls and fuzzy pillows read less ‘secret agent’ than the exterior and surroundings, but this place has an unbelievable amount of space for Rio, so sprawl out while you can!

$80/night • R. Raimundo Correia, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22040-040, Brazil

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Okay, so full disclosure — I’m a sucker for purple, and this place has it in spades. Aside from that, however, it’s also pretty cute and has all of the amenities you’d expect, with the added bonus of fluent English-speaking hosts. Sure, it only has five reviews, but five stars means they’re doing something right!

$74/night • R. Joaquim Murtinho, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 20241-320, Brazil

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This place is all about workflow. It’s got a desk, and you get to crash in a freakin’ hammock. I imagine myself swaying gently while trying to brain my way through my next track, or seeking inspiration while staring out the window. Then, when it strikes, I’ll sit up too fast, and the hammock will dump me on the floor. I’ll curse it and everything about everything but get to the desk in time to take down some notes.

$70/night • Rua Santa Luzia, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 20020-021, Brazil

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First and foremost, I love the wee sitting area. It would be the perfect place to enjoy a little espresso and nurse the Brazilian hangover from the night before. The tile work around the mini kitchen is killer, and with comments about the “charmous”-ness of the place, how could you not want to stay here?

$70/night • Estrada do Vidigal, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22451-090, Brazil

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I’m really into the decor in this place, especially the pulled-back-curtain-revealing-batcave-entrance closet in the bedroom picture. It’s like a magical boho princess studio, full of light and primary colors. It’s important to note, however, that there’s no kitchen, so take that into account and plan to eat out for every meal.

$70/night • R. Santo Amaro, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22211-230, Brazil

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It’s sparse and furnished with toys, but this place has all the bare necessities (namely, a place to sleep and a bunch of toys). Fun fact: Carioca is a Brazilian adjective or demonym used to refer to the native inhabitants of the city of Rio de Janeiro.

$69/night • Rua Aires Saldanha, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22060-030, Brazil

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This ultramodern greyscale space is absolutely ideal, given the price. Sure, it’s a tad small, but then again so is everything in Rio, and I personally can’t get over how awesome the decor in the kitchen is, especially the backsplash that resembles an equalizer.

$65/night • R. Barão de Guaratiba, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 22211-150, Brazil

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This place has solid beach house vibes and a very back-to-basics feel, but when I saw “quiet house” I couldn’t help but think about my dad. My dad is the kind of person who would complain if he heard any street noise whatsoever and expect to be moved to the top floor opposite the penthouse suites where the air is thin and the noise is nonexistent. Dad, this one’s for you.

$58/night • Rua Taylor, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 20241-060, Brazil

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Arty and cosy indeed, this cute and colorful crib comes complete with a heap of bikes (though they’re mostly kids’ bikes) and makes for a killer package. The comments make me more than optimistic about the quality of this Airbnb, and at $58 a night it’s hard not to see this as an ideal option for your trip to Rio.

$37/night • Rua Orestes Barbosa, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 21940-375, Brazil

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With ‘good vibes’ in the name, it’s hard not to want to stay here, especially with mentions of a ‘baby pig’ in the comments (which I cling to as a literal description, despite the photos of a tiny dog). Seated in a prime location, and with a host who gets solid reviews, this would be a great choice for a budget first-timer.

$31/night • Rua Joaquim Murtinho, Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro 20241-320, Brazil

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Yes, it’s literally little more than a bed and a bathroom, but for $31 a night this is the ideal foothold in Rio if you’re on a budget. Plus, there are certainly worse things after a night of drinking than being able to crawl out of bed and be immediately in the bathroom.

Honorable mentions

$2501/night • Avenida Infante Dom Henrique, Rio, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

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C’mon, it’s a yacht.

$132/night • Rio, Rio de Janeiro 22420-040, Brazil

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It may not be up to the same luxury standard as many of the other places, but this place is a serious find. It’s a whole house, with a covered porch and air of authenticity as “one of the last houses of Ipanema neighborhood.” It would be a standalone experience staying at this place, which is why it’s on the honorable mentions list.

$25/night • Rua Riachuelo, Rio de Janeiro, 20230-013, Brazil

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Sure, it’s literally a listing for a couch-bed in some artsy hippie chick’s apartment, but for $25 a night I’d crash there, and it seems like a pretty good, well-priced foothold in Rio. Plus, the reviews are in, and she seems super nice. Definitely a top honorable mention.

The post The 32 best Airbnbs in Rio de Janeiro appeared first on Matador Network.

There are like, no wild mammals left

Infographic: xkcd

Randall Munroe, the creator of the popular webcomic xkcd, recently did this infographic showing the total weight of all the land mammals on Earth. While it should be noted that, using this scale, each square is a million tons, what I found most incredible about this was the proportion of humans and domesticated animals to wild animals. There are so few of them. Munroe points to a single box and designates them as elephants, the animals that the English language has made synonymous (“elephantine”) with “huge” or “heavy.”

It’s worth pointing out that, had Munroe included non-mammalian species, Antarctic krill would have had five times the total biomass of humans, and bacteria as a whole would outweigh us by a factor of thousands. In the context of Earth’s mammals, though, this just goes to show what an incredibly huge effect we’ve had choosing which species get to inherit the Earth.

The post There are like, no wild mammals left anymore appeared first on Matador Network.

How to piss off a Romanian

Photo: János Csongor Kerekes

Mistake Bucharest for Budapest.

Never ask a Romanian if he lives in Budapest. That’s the capital sin, the perfect way to end a potentially interesting conversation. Yes, Budapest is a capital city, and there’s a big chance you’ll nail it with this guess — but only if you’re speaking to a Hungarian! We’re so tired of hearing, “Good evening, Budapest!” every time an international act has a concert in Bucharest. Metallica did it, Lenny Kravitz did it. And many others. But they had bodyguards.

You, on the other hand, will be alone in front of an outburst of anger.

Ask us about vampires.

In 1897, the Irish writer Bram Stoker published a Gothic novel entitled Dracula. His story made Transylvania more famous than any tourism promotion campaign ever could. By using some historical facts, he linked Vlad Tepes, the Voivode of Wallachia, to his main character, Count Dracula, the vampire.

Unfortunately, that means foolish tourists now come to Transylvania expecting to see garlic hanging by doors or people walking around with wooden stakes in their pockets. Transylvania is a peaceful, hilly area with many traditional houses and fortified churches. The real threat back then wasn’t exsanguination, but impalement — the Voivode Vlad’s favorite method of execution. And that isn’t fiction.

Leave food on your plate.

Mark my words: If invited to a Romanian’s home for lunch or dinner, fast for a day or two before the visit. We are known for being a welcoming nation, and one of our favorite ways of showing it is through food.

Here are a few appetizers so you don’t starve before the first course is ready. Some eggplant salad, salted roe, homemade smoked bacon with onions, and stuffed boiled eggs with mayo. Come on, try them all! Do you like the smell of our meatball soup? Here comes the clay pot full of sarmale, next to a steaming polenta and a jar of cream. You have to taste this! It’s our traditional course. You’ve finished everything? Don’t worry, there’s plenty more! The pork roast seasoned with garlic is almost ready.

More like this: How to piss off a Lithuanian

Show any signs of slowing down and your host will say, “Whaaat, you don’t like my food?” You might think, Jeez, I’m eating like a maniac — what’s this woman talking about?! And then comes the explanation from the genuinely upset cook: “I can see a tiny bit of sarmale left on your plate.”

Confuse Romanians with Gypsies.

The official name of the Gypsy ethnic group is Romani, and even though Wikipedia states they are “not to be confused with Romanians, an unrelated ethnic group and nation,” misplaced associations are still often made. There are Gypsies all over the world — one million in the United States, 800,000 in Brazil, and many others in Europe, including Romania. They originated in India and left sometime between the sixth and eleventh centuries. Confusing Romanians with Romanis only makes you sound ignorant.

Tell us a breeze can’t make you sick.

We Romanians are so convinced that a cool breeze or draft of air can make you sick that we even have an expression for it: Te trage curentul. (“You’ll be pulled by the draft.”) Take the bus on a hot summer day, and you’ll probably see the windows open on only one side of the vehicle, or not at all. Craving a breath of fresh air, you move your hand in the direction of the window. But even before you touch the handle, you’ll hear a panicked voice say, “Are you trying to get us all sick?”

To anyone else, this doesn’t make sense, but the logic behind this Romanian belief goes like this: The current of cool air will make your ears hurt and your nose run. Don’t even try to argue about this. You’ll only make yourself hotter.

Refuse homemade beverages.

Romania has one of the oldest winemaking traditions in the world. The country once had so many vineyards it’s believed Dionysus, the god of wine, was born in southeast Romania in a region then called Thracia.

As proud successors of the Thracians, Romanians practice winemaking as a popular hobby, so you’ll probably be offered some garage-made wine. Or tuica, a strong fruity beverage.

Even if you have reason for concern, do not ask about hygienic conditions or quality control. We take great pride in everything made with our own hands, so turning it down would be a serious insult. Take a sip, two, three, and worry not. We all drink homemade alcohol, and no one has died of it. So far.

The post How to piss off a Romanian appeared first on Matador Network.

Terrifying vid of an 8.3 earthquake

FROM Matador staffer Scott Brannon:

I lived in Lima for three years and for the last two there was literally an earthquake every three weeks. It started driving me crazy and they became more and more terrifying even when they were small (which they all were, but you still felt the shit out of them).

When you think about the construction of the buildings in that part of the world, there is zero wood: It’s all cinder blocks, cement, and re-bar with heavy poured concrete floors above and below you.

The latest reports are of five dead and hundreds of thousands evacuated due to tsunami warnings. A state of emergency has been declared and troops have been deployed to the hardest hit areas.

The post The terrifying reality of Chile’s 8.2 earthquake caught on video appeared first on Matador Network.

20 facts about Disney World

Photo: Jarkko Laine

Photo: Dancingnomad3

Photo: chensiyuan

Photo: Jeffrey Zeldman

Photo: Cory Doctorow

Photo: Paul Beattie

Photo: Richard Stephenson

Photo: Josh Hallett

Photo: Randy Pertiet

Photo: Josh Hallett

Photo: Danny Thompson Jr.

Photo: AreteStock

Photo: Lou Oms

Photo: Michael Gray

Photo: bdesham

Photo: Candace Lindemann

Photo: bdesham

Photo: Miramar93

Photo: Michael Gray

Photo: Michael Gray

[Feature photo: Peter Lee]

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