Matador Network's Blog, page 2320

How to NOT be a poser volunteer

Photo: isafmedia

As the interest in voluntourism grows, more and more “middleman” companies have swooped in to create customizable volunteering packages for travelers. These companies can charge upwards of $500 a week to place you in a volunteer program, and — according to their PR — to hold your hand if anything goes wrong.

This can be reassuring for first-time travelers, but by and large these commercial programs are ridiculously overpriced and often have questionable impact on the local community. Consider that many of these programs include only two weeks of volunteering followed by two weeks of adventure activity. How much of an impact can you have in two weeks?

These companies cater to the “Quick! Get a picture of me holding up this shovel and carrying a small Latino child, so I can show on Facebook how worldly and caring I am!” tourists.

Here’s how to find a genuine program for low-cost volunteering abroad and avoid falling into the category of ‘poser do-gooder.’

Do: Volunteer for as long as your itinerary allows.

Depending on your level of involvement, some organizations will ask for anywhere from a two-week to six-month minimum, but the one thing they’ll all tell you: The longer, the better. Two weeks is definitely not long enough to make a big impact, and can instead be draining for the administration who’ll need to take time out to train you.

Consider extending your volunteering to a month or longer. You may have to cut some sights out of your itinerary, but based on my experience it’s more than worth it. I extended my time in Peru from three months to six and was able to really connect with the community. Believe me, when you’re spending your last couple weeks playing football with local kids whom you’ve actually built a relationship with, instead of roaming around yet another ruin, you’ll be happy you’ve made the choice to stick around.

Don’t: “Squeeze it in” if you don’t have enough time.

Nobody says you have to volunteer. No one is going to judge you if you spend your vacation actually on vacation.

Do: Seek out organizations run by and employing locals.

Although it can be comforting to spend time with fellow backpackers who speak your language, be hesitant of organizations consisting of only foreigners. Not that they’re all bad, but locals will actually have an innate understand of community issues and the best way to address them within the context of local culture.

Don’t: Assume your only options are teaching English and taking care of kids.

For some reason, these seem to be the go-to options for volunteering abroad. But there are plenty of others out there. Hate kids? (Don’t worry, we won’t judge you.) Volunteer at an animal rescue center. Hate kids and animals? (Okay, starting to judge…) Volunteer to do administrative computer work for an NGO. Work on an organic farm. Help out with the elderly.

If you don’t enjoy something in real life, you’re definitely not going to enjoy doing it for free, in another language, in a foreign country. Just think of what you like to do, and go from there.

Do: Figure out your marketable skills.

Applying to become a volunteer is much like applying for a job. It’s not as competitive obviously, and most organizations will find something for you to do, but they’d rather place you in something you’re good at. Bilingual? Help with translations. Have experience in web design? Update the website. Got legit artist skills? Paint a new welcome sign! Seriously, whatever abilities you have, they can translate to the nonprofit world.

Don’t: Expect to volunteer for free.

This is kind of a weird concept and one that rattled me at first. I’m graciously volunteering my time, why should I have to pay? Unfortunately, that’s how its works overseas. While you should be wary of any companies that charge you ridiculous amounts for short volunteer programs, expect to pay something.

The weekly dues you’ll pay to volunteer will likely be going to a stipend for invaluable administrative staff. If room and board is available for volunteers, costs will likely be going to rent, food, and general maintenance. Not sure how much is an appropriate amount to be paying? It really depends on the location and organization. Volunteering in a touristy beach town in Mexico is going to cost more than super rural Indonesia, as the cost of living is higher. Contact the organization to ask where exactly the money goes. If the group isn’t transparent about their costs, be suspicious.

Do: Put your money where your mouth is.

If you still want to get some karma points but don’t have time to volunteer, consider donating instead of volunteering. Not everyone has months to spend giving back. If you really can only spend a couple weeks giving back, consider donating to the organization instead. Money goes a long way for these programs, and it will probably be more helpful than your inexperienced butt spending a week attempting to teach English to rowdy kids.

If you do donate, ask the organization if you can come in for a day and see how their programs run. They’ll be more than happy to indulge you with the obligatory Facebook photos, and you’ll have the satisfaction that you’ve actually helped.

Do: Make a sincere effort to connect with the community, not just your fellow volunteers.

Volunteering is a great way to meet other travelers, and you can walk away with lifelong friends, but that shouldn’t be your main reason for becoming a volunteer. It can be easy to fall into a trap of working with a community during the day and coming back to a house full of volunteers eager to let loose and party it up. That’s fine, but it’s not really that different from traveling and staying in hostels.

If the option is possible, do a homestay. One of the benefits of volunteering is being able to connect with a community. And what better way than living and developing relationships with a local family? You may not get the same party atmosphere as a volunteer house, but you’ll gain much more meaningful experiences.

Here are some good resources for volunteering opportunities:

Free & low cost volunteering throughout Latin America: Volunteer South America
Volunteer, intern, job opportunities in global nonprofits: Idealist
Low cost volunteering positions: Omprakash [image error]

The post 8 ways to avoid being a poser of a voluntourist appeared first on Matador Network.

Help find missing travel blogger

Tribe, the friends and family of missing travel blogger Harry Devert are anxiously searching for information on his whereabouts. Harry was in the middle of a solo motorcycle journey from New York City to Ushuaia, Argentina when he disappeared somewhere in Michoacan, Mexico, on his way to Zihuatanejo.

His last communication was with his girlfriend Sarah on January 25th. He contacted her using WhatsApp and told her he was being given an military escort through areas of Michoacan.

‘Just got an hour and a half long escort out of some area it was too dangerous for me to be. Stopping for lunch and … voila Internet. … Gonna get back on the road soon….Apparently there’s another military escort waiting for me in some other town… I’m running way late because of the crazy military stuff…hopefully get a chance to talk to you tonight when I (hopefully) finally arrive.’

He hasn’t been heard from since.

His mother hopes that he is just in a remote area where he cannot get cell or internet service but the state of Michoacan is known for being a dangerous zone and speculations of kidnapping and accidents are being heavily suggested. On his blog: A New Yorker Travels, Harry describes his inexperience with a motorbike and why he chose to use one.

“I couldn’t possibly hang up my traveling pack (not that I think I ever really will) without having experienced this last mode of transportation…I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before…but there’s no time like the present..”

Harry is 6 feet tall, 185 pounds and has brown hair and brown eyes. He has a large tattoo of a carp, globe and waves on his right shoulder and Asian symbols on his chest. He is riding a green Kawasaki motorbike with license plate number: NY67SD67.

Anyone with any information is asked to contact the Help Find Harry Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/helpfindharry or email: helpfindharry@hotmail.com.

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Mapped: Europe's language trees

Graphic via Etymologikon

THE IDIOM, “It’s all Greek to me,” finally makes sense. It has a comparatively large lexical distance from other European languages!

This map is a visual representation of how far apart European languages are when comparing differences in their overall vocabulary. Take a look to better understand how many people speak each language, which group it belongs to, and how different it is from the languages of neighboring countries.

Also, check out the original post at Etymologikon for more details on this study.

The post Mapped: The crazy relationships among European languauges appeared first on Matador Network.

'Global water shortage', really?

LET ME SAY OUTRIGHT: I don’t believe there’s a global water shortage. Science tells us that every drop of water on earth is part of a closed loop (remember the hydrology cycle?) that’s been around for millions of years. The exact same amount of water that was here those millions of year ago is still here today.

The horrible drought in California is counterbalanced by abundance in other parts of the world (like we’ve had in the US South this winter).

The key then is to begin thinking about water not on a world scale but in terms of availability and (especially) consumption at the local level. Start with something as relevant as how you consume water each day, such as illustrated in the video above. The problem with water isn’t shortages, but how “invisible” most of our consumption is. Notice how much water is hidden in the energy it takes to “work” just sitting in front of these computers.

And note especially how much water is used to provide you with that hamburger whether it’s from Whole Foods, Cost-Co, or the local market.

Everywhere on earth experiences cycles of drier and wetter years. That will never change. The problem comes when we don’t understand our own “address” within our local watersheds, and don’t take responsibility beginning there. Those who know this better than anyone are the ranchers and business operator in the US West, a naturally arid region where fights over water rights have gone back to the days of original settlement claims.

These fights continue to present day and as population grows, they become more important than ever. Take for example H.R. 3189 or the Water Rights Protection Act, a bill introduced in the House in 2013. The bill’s author, Representative Scott Tipton of Colorado, designed it around the argument that the federal government should be prohibited from “taking” privately held water rights, such as those owned by Ski Resorts across the country. But if the bill were passed, the government’s ability to monitor and control the amount of water left in rivers and basins for both recreation and environmental purposes, would be eroded.

So as with everything it comes down to being informed and understanding how laws at every level affect you. Do you have a vested interest in the success of the ski industry? Or do you side with less private water consumption for recreational purposes? Do you eat meat? If you do, where does it come from? How much does it cost to produce?

And as always, the more you can make your food security, water security, economic security independent from anything beyond local systems, the more your own life is a direct “answer” to these “global problems.” Thoughts?

Feature image by crowt59.

The post ‘Global water shortage’ is just another scare tactic. . .unless you live here appeared first on Matador Network.

On the impotency of the expat

Photo: Luc Forsyth

At 5:30am, Phnom Penh hulks unlit beneath a dirty orange moon. My bike tires clatter over shards of porcelain tile filling the potholes on Street 480, then hiss over the wet pavement where a shopkeeper sprays the grit off 271.

I start teaching today; I’m thinking about the lesson I stayed up to perfect. My helmet is clipped around my handlebars so it doesn’t wreck my hair.

Ahead, just past a car-sized heap of ruptured trash bags, a silhouette gang stares at something on the road: a motorbike dead on its side, a man with his skull split open like a bag of trash, a headlight-catching gleam of brain, an oil slick of blood.

I park my bike in front of the school, walk upstairs to my classroom, and write “Good morning!” on the whiteboard.

* * *

My brother Steve and I weave through the river of men, women, Buddhist monks, motorbikes, tuk-tuks, and trucks surging down Street 484. We’re carrying Coke and beer from the gas station across from my house; they’re dancing, clapping, waving the opposition CNRP’s flag, and chanting, “Hun Sen euy! Choh chenh tov!”

An insane disparity looms between the classroom and the street.

“What are they saying?” I ask my friend Soriya as we watch from the balcony.

“‘Hun Sen, get out,’” she says. “Remember the peaceful protests on Human Rights Day? These could be the real ones. A lot of people need change.”

Since July 2013’s contested elections, the CNRP — Cambodian National Rescue Party — has been gaining momentum in its fight against Prime Minister Hun Sen’s increasingly autocratic Cambodian People’s Party. Hun Sen has been in power since 1985, the CPP since the Vietnamese overthrew the Khmer Rouge in 1979.

Though not necessarily politically aligned, garment workers, land rights activists, teachers, and independent media activists are also rallying for reform, in solidarity becoming the largest anti-government movement to ever stand up against Hun Sen.

* * *

Steve and I are drinking Angkor draft on the Mekong River Restaurant’s patio. Sparse lights tremble on the Tonlé Sap as it flows from the great lake south to the sea. We watch motos sprint down Sisowath: children standing up on their mothers’ thighs, surfing, with their hands on their fathers’ shoulders; monks riding sidesaddle in saffron robes and blue surgical masks, their eyebrows and scalps shaved but shadowed with new growth.

A shoeless girl in a Santa costume loiters near us, her face the height of our table. Over her forearm, she displays a wire coat hanger strung with cheap bracelets.

“We play rock paper scissor,” she says, hitching the hanger onto her shoulder like a backpack strap.

“Why?” I ask. She slides my rings down my fingers to count and name each tattooed letter. I fight the impulse to snatch my fingers back; wariness is a bird in my chest, guilt is a rock. Who taught her to read?

“I win, you buy this time. You win, you buy next time,” she demands. She speaks better English than most of my students. Like the majority of Cambodian women, she will probably not get a chance to go to school, instead working to support her family.

Tonight, hundreds of Cambodians are pouring into the city with checked kramas wrapped around their heads and CNRP flags in their hands. They are crowded in open-air trucks like livestock.

Stone-faced men in black helmets and full body armour follow, two dozen to a truck. “GRK” is stenciled below the plexi-glass sights in their riot shields — Gendarmerie Royal Khmer, the elite military police.

* * *

I bike to school and unclip my helmet. From a distance, a siren shrieks — another accident? Then a GRK truck races past with a Doppler scream. Where are they going at 5:45am?

I’m not allowed to ask my students about politics. Instead, following the curriculum, I ask them to repeat after me: “The price of rice is nice in my province. I would like two kilos of mangoes please.”

* * *

Over the next few days, garment workers and Buddhist monks, protesting for a minimum wage raise from 85 to 160 USD a month, are arrested and severely beaten outside a South Korean/US-owned garment factory. Workers striking on Veng Sreng Boulevard, home to hundreds of foreign-owned factories that produce clothing for Western brands — H&M, Nike, Levi’s, the Gap — are also targeted. Cambodia’s US-supported counterterrorism unit, the GRK, municipal police, and highly trained paratroopers fire automatic AK-47 rounds into crowds of stone-throwing youth wearing flip flops. Plainclothes thugs in full-face motorcycle helmets and red arm bands storm Freedom Park, where pro-opposition supporters had been peacefully camped for weeks prior.

Five are killed. 23 workers, journalists, activists, union leaders, and NGO rights monitors disappear for almost a week, while being denied medical attention, before human rights organizations locate them in a remote maximum-security prison in Kampong Cham province. Four dozen more are seriously wounded, suffering gunshot wounds, brain damage, and battery, including bystanders, unarmed monks, a pregnant woman, a worker who was cooking rice inside her rented room nearby.

Hun Sen indefinitely revokes the constitutional right of freedom of assembly. Protests pause temporarily; protestors and garment workers stream back out to their home provinces for fear of more violence. I walk by Freedom Park after donating blood at Ang Duong Hospital. It is enforcedly deserted, an eerie calm amidst the city’s chaos.

* * *

Pheakdey, a student of mine, is also studying Management at university. Like her classmates, she is learning English to get a better job and support her family. Today, we discuss different types of clothing: shoes, pants, scarf.

Where does a history of violence and oppression begin? I try to follow it back to the source, but I cannot.

An insane disparity looms between the classroom and the street. Some days, it threatens to swallow me whole; some days I want to beat my head against the fucking wall until it splits open, until I understand. I learn that another bystander was shot dead in November, another protestor shot dead in September. Three female garment workers were shot by a town governor in 2012. In the past few decades, countless activists seeking democracy, fairness, social reform have been imprisoned or killed. Government forces are notoriously and consistently immune to repercussions. Impunity reigns.

I’m drowning under reports of wrongful abductions and incarcerations, land seizures, extreme violations of human rights. But where does a history of violence and oppression begin? I try to follow it back to the source, but I cannot. I can’t figure out if corruption is the lake feeding the river that irrigates Cambodia, or if it flows upstream.

I cannot convince myself I’m helping Pheakdey by teaching her how to ask for rice in English. Even if she gets a decent job, how can she thrive in a country chained by the dual shackles of government oppression and societal deficiency? Insufficient infrastructure, poor education, substandard medical care. Poverty, illiteracy, child labour — everything seems preventable, inevitable.

I remind myself that this isn’t about me; that it doesn’t matter if I feel frustrated, impotent, a sidelined Messiah armed with a grammar book; that there are more pressing issues than my secondhand anger; that I’m not here to “figure it out” or “fix it.” I can’t even define “it”.

My goddamn Levi’s cost double a garment worker’s monthly pay.

* * *

In the Russian Market, between the rows of moto parts and Cambodian-made tourist t-shirts, two young kids prod an infant kitten. His eyes are crusted shut; his fur reeks of spoiled meat and axle grease. I wrap him in my krama and bring him home, needing to feel like I can save someone.

* * *

Garment workers return to their factories out of financial necessity, though their wages are docked for the days they did not come to work. The 23 arrested remain in prison. One boy, shot in the chest and disappeared by the military police, cannot be found. His family holds his funeral.

Twice a year, the Tonlé Sap reverses its flow. During the dry season, the river runs from the lake to the sea, and during the wet, from the sea to the lake. A foreigner might mistake this reversal for a sea change, but it’s only a temporary revolution. [image error]

The post The insane disparity between my job as a teacher, and the violent protests on the streets of Cambodia appeared first on Matador Network.

How to date someone long distance

Photo: Zebra Pares

1. Schedule regular check-ins.

It seems kinda obvious, but if you can’t have dates because one of you is in Chiang Mai and the other one is in Cincinnati, you’re going to have to be proactive about scheduling time to see each other’s faces. Nothing makes someone feel important and part of your life like showing them they’re not “out of sight, out of mind.”

Build a Google calendar you can share to schedule dates, or have regular weekly or daily Skype calls. I met a girl at a magazine launch whose boyfriend was in the Peace Corps in Moldova, and she napped in late afternoon so she could get up at 3am and videochat him as he ate breakfast. That’s a little extreme, but you get the idea.

2. The internet is your friend.

Aside from the joys of Skype, you can also send emails, use Google Voice to send text messages to someone’s phone if you’re separated by international distance, and have a bouquet of flowers delivered long-distance on your partner’s birthday.

There’s a lot of talk these days about whether or not relationships that are built or maintained over the internet are as valid or “real” as in-person relationships: of course they are! People said the same thing about letter-writing once upon a time…the internet is just another way to keep in touch with your sweetie.

3. Share a Dropbox.

Dropbox is an online file repository that has both a web version and an app that can be installed on your phone or laptop. A shared Dropbox folder is a really easy way to send files back and forth: all one person has to do is stick a file in Dropbox and the other person can take it out. It’s good for large file transfers…like video. It’s a nice surprise to find a little gift from your honey in Dropbox, whether it be a photo of them waving in front of a tree full of monkeys, or a personal video message that you probably shouldn’t watch in an internet cafe.

4. Send mail.

Yep, actual mail. Postcards, letters, little knickknacks. Real mail is getting more and more expensive, but everybody still gets a thrill at receiving something tangible with their lover’s handwriting on it. Send sketches of the things you see every day, beer coasters from your favorite local pub, or a list of things that remind you of your partner folded into an origami heart.

5. Don’t be afraid to talk about feelings.

It’s easy (and cozy) to just snuggle up to your sweetie and feel a nice glow of affection. If you’re across the globe, snuggles are out of the question, so you’re going to have to make more of an effort to let them know you love and miss them. That means being in touch with your feelings, so you can put your partner in touch with them. Then writing ridiculously mushy love notes (or, if you’re feeling sad or missing them, sappy sad emails).

6. Be clear about boundaries.

Hopefully you negotiated whether or not either of you were allowed to snuggle with other people already. If you didn’t, it’s probably a good idea to clarify what behaviours you’re okay with your partner doing, and what you’re not. This can include things like “please don’t watch the new season of Girls without me” as much as “you can kiss other people but that’s as far as it goes.”

7. Plan for the future.

Nobody wants to be in a long-distance relationship with absolutely no idea of when you’ll see your honey again. Whether it’s planning a solid end to your round-the-world trip so you can say when you’ll be back, encouraging your partner to join you on a trip somewhere, or just booking tickets to spend a weekend in their hometown — whether your long distance is temporary or more permanent, make seeing each other a priority.

I had a boyfriend once who claimed he really really wanted to come visit me in Australia, but he couldn’t afford the ticket…right before he spent $4,000 in specialized repairs to his vintage 1968 Fiat. Valuing time with your partner shows you value THEM.

8. Do things together.

My current boyfriend suggested that we both read the same book, then talk about it. I’ve heard of people watching movies together on Skype, and I once Skyped my mom in for the opening of Christmas presents when I lived in California and she lived in Canada. I know someone who writes stories with her partner, where they edit the shared files and brainstorm plot outlines through instant messenger. Be creative!

9. But also do things apart.

If your long distanceness is more permanent (as opposed to because you’re traveling for two months), don’t just sit at home because your partner can’t be with you. Your partner loves you because you do things they think are interesting…so go out and do them! Spend time with friends, go to karaoke, join a swim team. Your partner will like hearing about the things you’re doing as much as you like hearing about what they’re up to.

10. Long distance is not terrible.

I once got berated for bothering to be in a long-distance relationship, because it was “too hard.” Any relationship takes work, and being long distance just means you have to do a lot more overt discussion about things…which can actually improve your relationship overall. Also, there’s a lot of evidence that being long distance can extend the “honeymoon period” almost indefinitely!

It’s important to find ways to make your relationship work in the day to day, instead of always being sad that you’re not together. It’s okay to miss someone, but also love the things that long distance can give you. [image error]

The post 10 ways to maintain a long-distance relationship appeared first on Matador Network.

Guide to Utah's best apres ski

Photo: Don LaVange

Best spot on the slopes: Molly Green’s, Brighton

12601 E Big Cottonwood Canyon, Brighton, UT

Molly Green’s exists precisely for those days when you just can’t be bothered to pull your boots off before tucking into a gigantic heap of nachos.

Short of providing beer service on the chairlift, Brighton could not have made apres easier for you. Just ski, slide, tumble, or have your buddies drag you into the cozy cabin at the base of the hill for the best on-mountain place to sit for a beer, a nacho mountain, a handful of Gaz-Ex wings burning a hole into your hand, and a three-hour brag session about the backside 3 you seriously can’t believe nobody saw you spin.

Hint: Increase the difficulty level of the tricks you landed incrementally in accordance with the number of beers you drink. (I mean, it was really probably more like a backside 5, anyway.)

You’ll need a breath mint after: The Cotton Bottom Inn

2820 E 6200 S, Holladay, UT

Many an epic pow day has ended here. The Cotton Bottom is located just past the 215 on your way down from Brighton or Solitude.

Day’s end at Park City. Photo: dennis crowley

Finishing your day here is akin to finishing your day in the basement bachelor pad of an old friend. Pile in through the kitchen (has anybody ever even seen the front door open?), grab some pitchers of one of the four beers on tap, and don’t bother messing with the menu. You want what everybody else is having, and your server already knows what it is — the garlic burger.

The name doesn’t lie. It’s garlicky heaven sandwiched between squishy rectangles of bread fused together with American cheese. Don’t ask for fries. You get a bag of chips and a beer with this burger.

Best liquor by the slopes: High West Distillery

703 Park Ave, Park City, UT

Booger-freezing cold, cheek-burning wind, a back leg so sore from riding waist-deep powder all day long, a bruised ego from that last run yardsale, or just the general melancholy of your last run before it’s time to head back to work — nothing a good Old Fashioned can’t handle. The High West Distillery in Park City is hands-down the best place to get one after a long day on the mountain.

For your apres convenience, it’s right at the end of Quit ‘N Time, so you can literally ski or snowboard straight to the front door. Their booze has made its way into bars and stores around the country, but here at the epicenter, High West liquors can also be eaten in dishes like vodka-battered shishito peppers and whiskey-whipped beer cheese. Servers are happy to suggest whiskey pairings for your snacks, but at the end of the day, the biggest reason to sit at their bar is to sip on some Dead Man’s Boots while thawing out in your snowboard boots.

Like stepping into a time machine: Alta Peruvian Bar

10000 E Little Cottonwood Rd, Alta, UT

The Alta Peruvian is left over from a time before slope-side sushi and heated lift chairs, back when skiing wasn’t considered remotely respectable. One of five small traditional ski lodges at Alta, the ski-in/ski-out building houses tiny dorm-style rooms built with just one objective in mind: to give the most hardcore and dedicated of skiers a place to sit between last chair and first chair.

That seat is usually in front of the bar at the P-dog. You may recognize nearly every face sitting around the wood-paneled, heavily taxidermied room from your day out on the slopes. The bar here is where locals and ski purists tend to flock after last chair to swap tales from their day (everyone’s got one; most are highly exaggerated), warm their appendages, and make friends via shotski.

Another remnant from the good ol’ days of skiing, the Alta Peruvian still tosses in some free sustenance — free snacks!

The oldest apres spot in Utah: Shooting Star Saloon

7350 E 200 S, Huntsville, UT

Photo: Paul Duke

If you want proof this is the oldest bar in Utah, start checking dates on the thousands of dollar bills pinned to the ceiling. They go back all the way to 1901, apparently (not tall enough to verify).

The Shooting Star opened in 1879 and has been running ever since. Every past owner is said to have made a commitment to change nothing: not the attitude, not the menu, and definitely not the decor, which includes a gigantic St. Bernard head on a mount, a jukebox that plays old 45s, a boot, the aforementioned dollar bills, and an old-timey cash register.

The best spot for a cold, local beer after a colder day at Powder Mountain or Snowbasin (and the only “real” bar nearby), the Shooting Star’s already the obvious answer for Ogden Valley apres. But add to that the deliciousness of the Star Burger, and it’s pretty much a given I’ll see you here at the end of the day. For about $10, you can score yourself their trademark double cheeseburger with a fat slab of Polish knackwurst on top, one of the many local beers on tap, and a 50-cent turn at the pool table in the back.

Bonus badass points to the Shooting Star for operating through Prohibition without getting busted.

Cheapest apres ever: Street meat in SLC

Tacos el Toro: 800 S State St, Salt Lake City, UT

After a day of slashing pow in the trees at Canyons, skip the slope-side foie gras and charcuterie. Save the money for another lift ticket, and instead truck it to downtown SLC.

Salt Lake City is littered with food carts, serving all kinds of meats with delightfully questionable origin. Every last one of them is awesome, but Tacos el Toro is king. It’s located on State facing south, by the Sears parking lot. Try not to get it mixed up with Don Rafa, which is the one on State facing east. (In the end, they’re both insanely satisfying after a powder-filled day.)

For $3, you get a burrito the size of a baby filled with the meat of your choice: standards like carne and pollo asada, to the more “mystery” spectrum of meat, like lengua and cabeza. They hand it to you open-faced — scoop up all the condiments you want, then either fold it up yourself or hand it back over to be professionally closed before devouring it all hunched over in your car like a caveman, moaning.

Bar with the coolest story: Owl Bar

8841 N Alpine Loop Rd, Sundance, UT

Live music at the Owl Bar. Photo: Eric Ward

Another Western-themed apres spot, the Owl Bar in Sundance has one of the best claims to fame in the area. This is the very same bar Butch Cassidy regularly sat in front of in the 1890s — only, back then it was located in Wyoming. The story goes Cassidy had the Irish oak bar shipped all the way from Ireland. It sat in the Rosewood Bar in Wyoming, where he frequently hung out with his Wild Bunch gang. Robert Redford and his gang eventually came across it in Thermopolis before fixing it up (a process that took 18 months) and bringing it back to Utah to set up at the Owl Bar.

Today, you can order tasty snacks like fried pickles and chorizo pizza to eat in front of this infamous bar, and wash it down with shockingly reasonably priced cocktails (or a Drewski — a shot of tequila with cinnamon and orange) while listening to some live music playing in the background.

Best apres drink special: Tram Club

9600 Little Cottonwood Canyon Rd, Snowbird, UT

The decor of the Tram Club is closer to that of a sports bar in 1979 than a typical apres hangout (way more jerseys and flatscreens than old ski photos and taxidermied heads), but the clientele here is just as rad as the mountain it sits on. Most employees and regulars are die-hard Snowbird skiers and riders, with the occasional confused designer-ski-pant-clad tourist wondering where the hell the fondue menu is before finally kicking off their boots and grabbing a brew and a shot like everybody else.

Just about every skier or rider who calls Snowbird their home mountain has partaken in the Tram Club’s signature special: a $5 beer and a shot. It’s the quickest, easiest, no-nonsense way to start a post-powder party in Snowbird.

For more information about Utah, home of The Greatest Snow on Earth®, go to visitutah.com. With 11 ski resorts less than an hour from Salt Lake City International Airport, there’s plenty of powder for the perfect ski vacation.

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Check out the sport that will make you want to jump off a cliff

Every time I’ve gone paragliding, I’ve just been pulled by a boat, or attached by a line to a mountain. What I’ve never done is land on a bus, skated down a mountain road, or do loop-de-loops in a snow-covered valley. But I’m also not Jean-Baptiste Chandelier, the French paragliding pro.

Check out these stunts, and tell me it doesn’t make you want to go jump off a cliff — you know, with proper, training and a parachute. [image error]

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11 images of austerity-era Athens

Author Henry Miller once said, “The light of Greece opened my eyes, penetrated my pores, expanded my whole being,” a sentiment I can largely echo. I’ve been visiting Greece since I was a child, and worked in Athens from 2008 to 2010 — pivotal years in which the world saw the city marked by demonstrations, corruption, and austerity measures.

I continue to return to Athens annually, and despite its economic struggles, I still believe it to be a city of great light. It was with this in mind that I decided to photograph one of my days around the city: good, bad, and everything in between.

1


A homeless person leaves their belongings unattended to sway in the breeze on Akadimias Street, a major roadway in the center of Athens. The number of homeless people in Greece has more than doubled since 2009. “It’s one of the city’s top social problems,” a 32-year-old engineer in the city told me.





2


Riot police prepare to mobilize during demonstrations in memory of Alexis Grigoropoulos, who was 15 when he was fatally shot by police on Dec. 6, 2008. Many feel that Grigoropoulos’ death was a tipping point for the country, as it sparked thousands of demonstrations that have now become routine in the Greek capital. I followed the march down Panepistimiou Street—where I snapped this photo—but left once police began firing tear gas.





3


A statue of an Orthodox priest looms over the square in front of the Metropolitan Cathedral of Athens—the cathedral church of the Archbishop of Athens and all of Greece. I thought it was kind of symbolic. In Greece, the separation of church and state seems to be unthinkable: 98% of the country’s population is Greek Orthodox; yet scandals continue to plague the church, and salaries for priests and bishops cost taxpayers more than 200 million euros a year.





Intermission





In Search of the Real Dude: Notes from a Lebowski Fest Past



[image error]

44 surreal scenes from Australia’s Great Barrier Reef





Notes from a photographer in Varanasi, India












4


Young Greek men pass by an older man near Athens’ central Syntagma Square. Astonishingly, approximately 57% of Greek youths are unemployed. “A lot of young people are leaving and going abroad because of a lack of opportunity,” an unemployed 24-year-old schoolteacher told me. “They can do so many things, but they aren’t being helped here.”





5


A locally sourced organic cheeseburger and potato wedges are a popular choice at The Dalliance House, a bar/café/restaurant in Kifisia, Athens. Greek businesses have refocused efforts on local production in order to help the economy. “Greek products are becoming more popular than ever before, and bars seem to realize this better than other businesses,” a Greek citizen told me.





6


When walking around the Monastiraki district in Athens, I make it a point to find this building, which has been a favorite of mine for many years. Though renovation was started on it at one point—look closely to see evidence—all efforts have seemingly ceased. I later found out from friends that this is not uncommon, and that renovation on many traditional buildings has been frozen, leaving them surrounded by scaffolding and in an unfinished state.





7


Signs in Athens’ center mock Greece’s political system, which is viewed by many citizens as corrupt. Incidentally, the man who owns—and lives behind—this decorated wall is an Irishman named Tom. He routinely changes his messages on the wall to reflect his social and political frustrations.





8


Erosion is on full display at Athens’ Olympic Athletic Center (OAKA), where the city played host to the 2004 Summer Olympics that cost them approximately 11 billion euros. I stepped off the train to take a walk around the complex, and was surprised at how easily I could walk about the grounds and into the facilities, which are largely deserted.





9


Greek is chic in the country’s capital, where new businesses such as Lukumades offer a new twist on historic dishes. I’d both read about the shop and tried some of its fare—traditional Greek deep-fried doughnuts that can be filled with lemon, mastiha, or praline cream—before happening on it as I readied for the day. It was encouraging to me to see that Athens continues to be a burgeoning center for food and culture, despite its hardships.





10


Though many businesses have shuttered, Athens’ flea market remains as bustling as ever. Here, two women descend to the basement of one of the city’s many antique stores, where you can find a variety of items including carpets, lamps, coins, stamps, and clothing from the Second World War.





11


Commuters enter Ilioupoli Station, which opened in July 2013 as one of Athens’ many new additions to its sprawling and efficient metro system. Expanding the metro line—which received a massive overhaul, completed in 2003—is seen as part of the city’s efforts to curb pollution and traffic. It is estimated that the metro carries nearly 400,000 riders a day.

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I had yet to cry in Afghanistan

Photo: Spc. Tobey White

Today was a first.

Saying goodbye to the women in prison in Kandahar, I felt hot tears welling up in my eyes. Glad for the cover of darkness that had fallen while we were talking, I turned from the last woman dressed in vibrant purple, who was still holding my hand, thanking me for coming to talk with them, as the tears coursed tracks down my cheeks.

I have yet to cry in Afghanistan. I have visited four different prisons multiple times, meeting with the women and their children spending years in jail for crimes they did not commit. Women who are in jail because a male family member raped them and the family had to save honor, and thus accused her of adultery.

I have met with street children who walk an hour to and from school, selling gum and maps in the streets, trying to avoid the kidnappers that roam Kabul. I have sat with families that have needlessly lost their wives, mothers, and daughters during childbirth when they wouldn’t take them to a male doctor five minutes down the road. I heard stories of acid attacks on young girls walking to school, political leaders assassinated outside their family home, and women beaten to death trying to cast their vote.

All of the stories worth shedding a tear for.

Yet I never have.

All the stories move me, and I’m truly touched by the heartache and injustice. Yet I am resolute in finding solutions to help, understanding that there are a million of these stories all over the world.

Tonight was different. We walked through the prison gate into a large courtyard to see children swinging on some playground equipment. Women scurried back to cover their heads. We slowly went over and asked them their names. My limited Dari was of no use, as they all spoke Pashto, and I felt frustrated not being able to convey the basic niceties. Luckily they were okay with my male translator joining us, and we soon were chatting away animatedly.

She showed us multiple slashed scars and said they continue all over her body from the beatings he gives with a knife.

They clustered around, kids pulling at skirts or running around in the dusk. They showed me their rooms and seemed quite willing to talk openly in front of the commander. The first woman I interviewed was dressed in vibrant purple. She talked openly of the accusations against her. She was in the prison, accused of killing the son of her husband’s other wife. He blamed her, which she denies, and who is to really know what happened? She is the fifth wife of her husband. He is 65 and she is 20; they have been married for 4 years. So when she was 16 she was married off as the fifth wife of a 61-year-old man. The first three wives are dead. All killed by his harsh beatings. She shyly pulled up her sleeves and showed us multiple slash scars and said they continue all over her body from the beatings he gives with a knife.

Another woman we speak with has four daughters. She was married for ten years, then her husband moved to England for eight years and she divorced him. Now her daughters are educated, the eldest a teacher, the youngest only seven years old, and he is insisting they be sent to live with him in England. She refused, saying they were divorced, and she had raised these girls on her own for over eight years. The reason is unclear why she would be sent to jail, but sure enough there she is. Awaiting her fate for an unknown crime so her ex-husband can take her daughters away.

It goes on and on. Heartbreaking, and unfortunately typical of many of the stories I’ve heard in Afghanistan.

I asked my translator to please tell these women I wish them all the best and that my heart is with them. Then I clasp their hands in both of mine and thank them in Dari, knowing they will understand. One of them in a beautiful flowered scarf presses a silvery jeweled hair barrette into my hand. She has taken it from her own hair to give to me. I smile and try to refuse, not wanting to take anything from these women, but she insists. Then the group turns me around and takes the rubber band out of my ponytail, a comb materializes, one of the women smooths my hair and clips it neatly with the silver barrette.

They hand me back my simple rubber band, laughing gently and smiling.

That’s what did it. I felt the hot liquid in the back of my eyes and smiled broadly as the one with the barrette kissed me on the cheek. I turned sadly to leave with the commander, looking back once to wave and say goodbye again. My attempts to verbally convey my true feelings felt inadequate. At the door, the woman in purple was there. She clasped my hand tightly, speaking and not letting go. Thanking me for taking the time to visit them, for listening, and for giving them a chance to talk and share.

I held her hand for as long as she let me, squeezing lightly, hoping she could sense how much I was feeling for her. [image error]

This post was originally published at The Long Way Around and is reprinted here with permission.

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