I’ve enjoyed just over two weeks in Thailand so thought I should put finger to keypad and write about it.

First off, say what you will about budget airlines, but Air Asia is great. There’s a reason they consistently win the worlds best budget airline award. Service is excellent. Here’s a hot tip – if you are on an Air Asia X flight (long hall) the last 5 rows of the planes drop down to two seats on each side. Nab one of those. They will only fill the neighbouring seat if the flight is absolutely full. Also I somehow managed to score myself a business class flight upgrade (do not underestimate the power of flattery/bribery) so that was quite nice too.

Spent a few days in Bangkok, such grandiose plans that never came to fruition. I did walk around a hell of a lot, and met some lovely people, but otherwise I managed to do what I always do; wake up with ideas, go back to sleep after breakfast, and wake up again for afternoon drinks and dinner. So be it.

Then it was down to the islands.

On my first trip overseas I went to Than Saadet  – A beautiful cove on the east side of Koh Pha Ngan. It’s been 4 years or so since my last visit, so thought I’d give it another go. Despite a little further development and influx of day tourists, not much had changed. This time I opted for a room “on the rocks” which is polite Thai talk for half way up a mountain the size of Everest. Add to that my dodgy night vision and it made for interesting trecks up and down the mountainside. At one stage I think a turtle overtook me. Fucking show off.

3 nights there and I was ready for the banana pancake trail (I’m sorry to admit) so off to Haad Rin I went, where I feasted on surprisingly authentic Mexican, enjoyed air conditioning and some truly excellent company, and before I knew it, I was back in Samui. I decided to spend 2 nights in Chaweng – the crazy bit – before one last night in Lamai  - the not so crazy bit. It’s been 2 years since my last sojurn in Samui, and I was glad to say that I quite enjoyed it (goodbye my cool, independent backpacker ethos)

Before I knew it, my time in Thailand was over. I took my Bangkok Air flight back to the capital, made excellent use of my Priority Pass card (look into that, seriously) – a self service open bar, which made my flight back to KL much more enjoyable. A night at the Tune hotel at KL LCCT and then an early morning flight to Colombo, Sri Lanka, for more beach, beer and barramundi.

Photo by hawkins_hnotk

It was supposed to be a relaxing holiday in Vanuatu. A bit of snorkeling, a few drinks and a giant book to read. However, as we all know things never turn out as just as planned and I had plenty of time to reflect on this as I sat on the sand in the dark, drenched by the monsoonal rain, scouring the reef looking for a man in a canoe to arrive with my kava.

It started out innocently enough. I was invited to take part in a Kava drinking ceremony, in what I thought would be a nice cultural exchange – a good way to start my holidays and would alleviate any guilt for what was planned to be two weeks of slothful relaxation on an almost deserted island. So I happy accepted, though as I sat waiting for hours, dripping wet and wondering which of the mosquitos on my arms were malarial, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

Kava I am told, is traditionally drunk at dusk. It’s somewhat of a social lubricant; villages have avoided wars, marriages have been approved and more recently building permits granted, all over a few shells of kava. It’s a mild narcotic; rather than getting you drunk it makes your body feel almost stoned, but your mind is still active. Kava also has the added benefit of being an appetite suppressant and more than a few New Caledonian French tourists have been known to use it to loose weight.

It tastes disgusting. Like dirty water and chopped grass.  It used to be prepared by having young boys chew on the root of the Piper methysticum (Piper being Latin for Pepper, Methysticum meaning ‘intoxicating’) plant, saliva mixing in with the mushed root. You, like myself, would be forgiven for wondering about such a person to whom this would appear to be a good idea: “Here’s an interesting tree root – round up the boys, Ima gonna get ‘em to chew this for a few hours, mix it with water and drink it to you know, see what happens”. Luckily the village tweens did as they were told though. As I’d soon find out, Kava is spectacular.

We noticed a light out on the reef, slowly becoming bigger until we could see the outline of what seemed to be a very relaxed man in a canoe. The kava had finally arrived.

The first shell (for all kava should be imbibed from either a purpose made cup, or a coconut shell) makes your mouth tingly. Like you’ve visited an incompetent dentist who missed your gums and shot the Novocain straight into your cheeks. You can’t sip kava, you’re body will reject it. You must scull it, preferably with a chaser – for which beer works nicely – though nothing quite prepares you for the foul aftertaste.

We sat around a table, an even mix of travellers and Ni Vanutau (the collective term for a group of people from Vanuatu). While we waited for the full effects of the Kava to kick in, the preparation process was explained. The chewing technique of yore has been replaced by machine that grinds the root, which is then soaked in water until the liquid turns to watery chocolate milk colour (I was relieved to hear this though couldn’t help but wish it was explained to me before my first shell). Most of the Pacific islanders drink Kava, though it is apparently much stronger in Vanuatu. We were told that you find most kava bars by the red or blue lights that are displayed on the side of the road; the light stays on until the kava runs out. In Vanuatu, kava bars are only frequented by men, though there is a relaxed view towards foreign women attending. Each bowl at these bars sells for 100 Vatu, or about $1, which makes for an incredibly cheap night.

There’s a lot of spitting and coughing involved when drinking Kava, it’s disconcerting and reminds me of what seems to be the national pastime in China. I found it difficult getting into the Kava groove with the guy next to me coughing up a lung, but I persevered.

It was time for the second shell. Straight down the throat, half a beer chaser. Immediately I noticed the tingly feeling spread to all of my face, and down my neck. My body started to relax and I had a feeling of being quite happy with, well, everything.

I traced my teeth with my tongue for a while – which felt fantastic – and chatted to my spitting and coughing friend. The conversation was relaxed, until I mentioned the growing pool of phlegm at his feet. He thought this the perfect opportunity to remind me that up until not long ago, cannibalism was rife in his country (the last recorded incident was about 50 years ago). In fact – he said with a look that rapidly countered the relaxing affects of the kava, he even knew a guy who had once tasted human flesh. I excused myself quickly, something about needing to go to the toilet. Returning after what seemed like only a few minutes, I was told I’d been gone for about half an hour. This seemed peculiar, though who knows. The rain had stopped and I could see the moon come through the clouds, lighting the coral beach in such a magnificent way, I felt as though I must go for a walk, and I really had no say in the matter. The kava had well and truly kicked in.

Later, I sat on the beach, about 20 metres away from the group. I was looking at a piece of coral, admiring the shape, the way the light from the moon bounced off it, and then it moved. Well, scurried. I think it was hermit crab, though I can’t be sure. I named it corab (half coral, half crab). Someone in the group called out to me that it was time for our third shell. I replied that it had only been about 15 minutes, but was told that it had been well over an hour, though who really knows.

I went back to the group, and prepared for round three, my body protesting but my mind keen to see where the kava train would take me. We stood around in a circle and reluctantly sculled our Kava, then half a beer chaser. My body went to jelly; I needed to sit down. Gulping the remainder of my beer, I studied the faces in the group. The Ni Vanuatu, in between spitting, seemed very relax, a sentiment I also shared.  One of the Germans in our group was looking a bit green. I was about to ask him if he was ok, when he promptly threw up. A French guy in the group chuckled at this, mumbling something condescending about Germans all the while furiously rubbing his own knee caps. The other Australian that was there was staring intently at a moth that was dangerously close to becoming a Gecko’s midnight snack. The whole scene started to look pretty sad so I took my leave and stumbled in the general direction of my bungalow. On the way I tripped over and fell on my back. I stared at the moon, falling in love with it’s colour and shadows. After ten minutes someone walked passed and helped me up, though they said I had left the group about an hour ago, at which point I was convinced there was an international conspiracy afoot, orchestrated to fuck with my sense of time.

As I lied in bed, unable to sleep from the buzzing in my head but enjoying the faint rumblings of distance thunder, I decided that from then on I would stop at two shells.  Maybe.

I have friends that recently left Australia for a few months in South America. I’m jealous. Some of my favourite memories thus far are chowing down on ceviche on the coast in Peru, or eating empanadas on overnight bus rides. Food plays such a huge role in any trip to Latin America, which is why I almost wet my pants with excitement when I heard about the Latino Fiesta held in Johnston Street, Melbourne’s Latin district, this weekend. Not one to ever miss a paella opportunity, I spent most of the week counting down the days and went to bed especially early on Friday, so that I might be able to get a full weekend of filling my belly. I never claimed to not be a loser.

Melbourne’s Spanish and Latin American community isn’t massive, but isn’t exactly non existent either. Latino HQ is pretty much Johnston Street, which is home to tapas bars, Jamón shops, authentic Mexican restaurants and Spanish clubs. Once a year the street is shutdown for a weekend of Salsa classes, over-priced Sangria, tacos and Columbian BBQ’s. Heaven for this little cerdito.

The fiesta also has a significant amount of hand made crafts, Flamingo Dancers and Latino music for sale, though for me today, it’s all about la comida.

Rule of thumb for any street food festival is to do a reconnaissance lap, check out what’s going on. You don’t want to jump in too eagerly and fill up before you get to the good stuff. So away I went.

I saw Lechona (stuffed pig) at a Columbian store that had been cooking since 3am (it takes about 10 hours). There were Anticuchos (sort of like meat kebabs, anticuchos de Corazon – beef heart- being the most popular) grilling at one of the Peruvian stores. I passed an impressive amount of revelers waiting in line to be served Sangria at many of the bars that line the streets. I found my first stop of the day.

Sangria is summer punch served in Spain and Portugal. It usually consists of a inexpensive red wine fruit, spices and a sweetener like syrup or sugar. It’s also delicious and over indulgence, at least for me, often results in the mother of all hangovers. Still it’s a small price to pay and nothing that some aspirin and huevos rancheros can’t fix.

After the sangria party for one, I was on the move again, navigating past the nervous looking guys getting salsa lessons and found the empanada store. These delicious little parcels are like a South American samosa, dough with a meat, cheese or vegetable filling, and served with salsa. Stopping myself at one, I then made a beeline for the Taco stand.

Western versions of the Taco are wrong, god damnit. To start with, a taco isn’t served in a hard corn shell in Mexico, but rather come in a small soft tortilla. Secondly there’s no lettuce to be seen in an authentic taco, rather it’s topped with diced raw onion, tomatoes and an abundance of coriander. I was a served pork taco with a wedge of lemon on the side, and encouraged to squeeze it on liberally. My first bite is extraordinary; a fusion of delicious tastes and smells.

Keen readers of this website know that I’m a vegetarian who bends the rules a bit when travelling. I decided to adopt this rule today; instead of me travelling it was Latin American that came to see me. I welcomed it in all its carnivorous glory.

Getting full and a little sleepy I decided I had room for one more dish. I did another lap so I could way up my options. I was deciding between paella and quesadillas when I stumbled across Fideuà. The icing on my gluttonous cake.

Fideuà

Fideuà is from Valencia, Spain and is similar to paella except that it uses a thin noodle like vermicelli instead of rice. The Fideuà I chose came with an abundance of crustaceans and was served with aioli. It was exquisite. I’m not a man that goes around liberally declaring things to be exquisite, so I hope this goes some way to describing just how intensely tasty it was.
Being quite content with my finds for the day I waddled over to the tram stop to head home (the laundry isn’t going to wash itself). I left with a full belly and a happy heart, knowing that my sojourn into the culinary delights of Latin America and Spain cost me little more than a tram ticket and a few extra inches around the belly.

Photo credit

There’s plenty of travel articles written about the joys of turning up to a new city, and walking around to find a place to stay. You take in the sights, get a feel for the area, and you can pick and choose your hostel in person, maybe even negotiate a discount during low periods. And that’s sound advice. But here’s a few reasons why I book my hostels online

• Being the tightarse backpacker that I am, I tend to fly the budget airlines, which tend to get me to my destination at 2:30 in the morning, at an disused military airbase 200 kilometres from the city centre (Frankfurt, Rome, Melbourne – I’m looking at you). The last thing I want to do is catch a bus into the city, traipse around town waking up guest house owners asking for a bed all the while lugging around a heavy backpack. If you already reserve a room (even if it’s just until you get your bearings) you know you only have to do one thing before sweet, sweet sleep – and that’s check in. The hostel might even offer a airport pick up service.
• Not every place is a backpacker Mecca like Khao San Road, catering to your every whim. I could hardly expect to rock up to a place like Los Angeles and walk around until I found an oasis that not only offers a bed, but a tour desk, bar and breakfast in the morning for less than $20. Booking online and at least you’ll know exactly what’s on offer, what the nearest sights are, possible tours and if you read the reviews left by other travellers, you’ll know if the hostel has bed bugs, annoying low flow showers and if the coffee is any good.
• I’m a fastidious planner, and if I’m going to a city for the first time, I’m likely to have booked my accommodation weeks ahead, giving me more time to get out and see the sights, and less time standing around deciding which hostel has more value for money.
• Turning up to a popular city without a booking, especially during holidays and other peak periods might not be a great idea, unless you like the idea of sleeping in a broom closet or paying through the nose for a place that’s sub par – all the good places are bound to fill up first, leaving you with a crumby hostel far from the sights. Also, some countries require proof of address at immigration -  like a booking confirmation and not just a scrawled address on the entry card. If you’re visiting a country you haven’t been to before, it’s best to hit the forums like Lonely Planet’s Thorntree to see what the go.

And something I just found out the other day…

• You can get %50 of your deposit back just by booking with HostelBookers.

Now, I use HostelBookers as my online booking portal of choice, primarily (amongst other reasons) as they don’t charge a booking fee. If you’re on a round the world trip, or away for a long period of time, those booking fees add up. But I recently stumbled across their current deal, where they will select 1,000 customers to receive a 50% deposit on their next booking (I’ve included the HostelBookers media release at the bottom of this page).

This is huge, one of my last bookings was for a week in Amsterdam – not exactly the cheapest place in the world- and my 10% deposit which I paid at the time of reservation was greater that the GDP of New Zealand (but lets face it, that’s not hard). They’re also offering everyone who’s previously booked with HostelWorld 10% off their first booking with HostelBookers, which is sure to make a lot of backpackers very happy, and a lot of people at HostelWorld pretty pissed off, but hey, that’s business, baby.

HostelBookers Rewards Loyalty in Backpackers

Once again HostelBookers highlights several reasons why their customers remain loyal to the backerpackers accommodation specialist. They are 8.7% cheaper than Hostelworld*, don’t charge you a service charge or booking fee, offers a lowest price guarantee and will pay you double the difference if you find the same deal cheaper elsewhere **.

To thank their current customers for their loyalty, HostelBookers has launched a great promotion to demonstrate their appreciation. HostelBookers will randomly select 1,000 customers to receive a 50% deposit refund on their next booking. In addition to this, to really help backpackers in achieving budget travel, they are even offering customers of HostelWorld the same deal when they make their first booking with HostelBookers***. For more details visit the  HostelBookers Gives Back to Travellers page.

David Smith, CEO at HostelBookers, states: “This promotion is a great opportunity for customers both new and old to fall in love with HostelBookers and to realise that we have the best deals and rewards. We believe that HostelBookers represents the best value for money for budget travellers and this promotion is part of our ongoing efforts to engage and support them.”

* Survey by Reed Business Insight click for more info

** Terms and Conditions apply

***Terms and conditions apply, booking eligibility must be verified and customers must book using the same email address.

- END –

This guest post is written by my friend Jon, a traveller and bar tender in Quito, Ecuador. Besides pulling beers, Jon is actively involved in placing people in volunteer positions around Ecuador.

I asked him to write a few words on volunteering in the Galapagos.

For me, and countless others that I have met here, travelling is an active endeavour. It’s what I call adventure. The enjoyment is taken from participating in a new environment, exploring the terrain with an active imagination, and meeting people in cultures vastly different from those we came from only to discover that we have similar interests and share mutual passions.

One area of Ecuador where people don’t take full advantage of their surroundings in this sense is the Galapagos Islands. Most of the people who go there take cruises. It’s the way it works, and few question the standard practice beyond trying to sort out a last minute cruise either by booking in Quito once they arrive, finding a deal over the internet a few months before they get here, or taking a chance and flying to the islands in search of a last-minute spot being left open on a boat.

I have always found this restricting in the sense that travelling to me involves more than cruises. Not to say that I dislike cruises. It’s just for me, The Galapagos are the same place that inspired Darwin, were the home of pirates, and which offer a glimpse into nature that one rarely sees in one place.

It’s also counter-intuitive to the environment. Tourism is responsible for much of the wear and tear inflicted on the Islands. Quarantines are disregarded, pollution is shocking, and many efforts to preserve the ecosystem are overlooked by the majority of people who live and travel there each year.

One of these efforts that I have a huge respect for is conservation. To break it down simply,conservation in the Galapagos is crucial to keeping the islands vibrant and growing. Organisations like the Darwin Foundation and Jatun Sacha work diligently to repopulate native species of plants that are in danger of extinction. Over-forestation and invasive species of plants brought in on cargo ships that supply the islands with fresh fruit and vegetables daily literally choke out important aspects of the
ecosystem if left unchecked.

A new breed of travelling has emerged here out of this dilemma that addresses all of my points so far, combining volunteering and travel. Though at first glance many dismiss this option as a sort of backpackers’ way to see the islands while saving money spent on cruises, it’s actually more involved than this and deserves attention.

The nuts and bolts of these trips are best illustrated if referring to a specific program and I am using three week volunteer \ travel trip organized by Lead-Adventures in Ecuador as my reference.

• The trip costs roughly what it costs for an eight day cruise and is all-inclusive once volunteers reach the islands and pay the entrance fee at the airport.

• The three weeks are spent on three Islands. First on San Cristobal, then on San Cristobal at the Jatun Sacha biological station, and the last week is spent enjoying the beauty and wildlife of Isabella.

• The work involves clearing space of out of control plants and reintroducing native species that are used for their unique properties by locals.

• Time is spent communally alongside locals who run the projects who offer an educating view of their home and a refreshing attitude towards visitors. They like spending time with those interested in helping.

• The accommodations are in hostels, volunteer lodging, and at a homestay.

This program works for me. It combines all the elements of my way of travelling and injects a fresh perspective to the islands that I look for when discovering a new place. The idea is inspiring, the itinerary is well organized, and when all is said and done, the money spent is contributing to the health of the Islands. This is important to me as money from tourism doesn’t stay on the islands as a general rule.

Working alongside locals makes things more personal. Helping to conserve the islands creates a different dynamic in these relationships that results in friendships based out of mutual respect for the common good. This is travelling.

When not volunteering, opportunities for adventure are at the forefront of the activities. Tours of each island’s exotic attraction are arranged and one feels encouraged to explore the nooks and crannies that offer pictures with participants as well as scenery. These are the moments that I find make new friendships form, present opportunities not seen to the naked eye, and create memories that stand out when in faraway places surrounded by familiar settings.

The places that are chosen for volunteers to stay are also comfortable to me because they offer social settings where I can find new perspectives from other volunteers and travellers. This is why I travel.

I find that sitting down for dinner at a hostel, with a group of people travelling, and in someone’s house create situations where interesting conservations are the rule and not the exception. Comparing notes with others who share my interests for travel often refreshes my passion for discovery while giving me the confidence to keep exploring.

Taking a leap and deciding to do something new like volunteer in the Galapagos isn’t always the easiest step. But for me I find it’s always the situations that begin with a challenge that offer the most reward and keeps me seeking out new horizons. If you have a similar spirit and are interested in finding out more information about the volunteer program that I mention here, ecotourism, or need a contact for anything about travelling in Ecuador, email me and check out my blog . I have a large network of trusted friends who I can recommend for Spanish Schools, Galapagos trips, Jungle adventures, and beach retreats, who came here with a traveller’s spirit and found somewhere and something that they call home and time well spent.

Follow Jon on Twitter

Don’t hang out in San Jose

Allegedly there are some nice areas and cool sights in San Jose. I wouldn’t know because I was too busy trying to fend off muggers, not step on heroin shooting junkies on the sidewalk, all while pretending not to look at the hookers literally earning their money in the alleys.

The taxi drivers also refused to take me anywhere cool because I didn’t want to pick up one of their prostitutes.

Do stay in Alajuela

Assuming you are flying in to SJO (Juan Santamaría International Airport) Alajuela is much closer than the actual city of San Jose. A taxi will run you around $25 to San Jose or just $3 to Alajuela.

There are plenty of small hostels / guesthouses in Alajuela and it’s very safe compared parts of San Jose. It’s not a bad launching pad for the sights and activities around the Poa volcano either.

Don’t take the Interbus shuttle

Nothing against them personally. I’ve heard nothing but good things but they run around $35-40 to the destinations I scoped out.

Do take a local bus

Most of the buses in Costa Rica are very nice and comfortable and they’re also considerably cheap. Last time I checked, it cost around $4 to go from San Jose to La Fortuna or $6 to go to Quepos. Both rides are around 4 hours so that’s not a bad deal for such a long distance.

This schedule should help but get there early to make sure it’s accurate.

Don’t reserve a hotel online

It’s true that Costa Rica is a major tourist destination, especially for backpackers, but it’s not as crowded as you would imagine. If you arrive late a hostel might be booked by the time you get there, but if you have the time, consider checking out the area for good deals.

Do just show up and look at a few rooms

I booked a private hostel room for three last year in Quepos which ran about $50. Not bad for three people, but when we took the bus to the beautiful Manuel Antonio beaches we found that there were plenty of hotels with amazing views of the Pacific Ocean for $25-50. These exact same places were listed online at a minimum of $100 per night.

Talk about slashing prices.

Don’t eat anywhere listed in the Lonely Planet

It’s not that the places listed in the guidebooks are bad by any means, but it appears they double or triple their prices once they get published. If it was listed as a budget restaurant in the Lonely Planet it ran around $10-15 for a standard meal. That’s around the same price as a standard meal where I live in Southern California–one of the most expensive areas in California I should add.

Do find the local soda

Soda’s are your typical Costa Rican eatery. Smaller than most restaurants, most soda’s only have a couple of tables and chairs outside. Many soda’s operate on the street corner with nothing more than a window for you to order your meal. They’re a step or two above food carts on the street.

The best meals I have had in Costa Rica cost around $3 from local sodas. The menu usually isn’t very large and will feature several comidas (typical meals) with your choice of meat. One night it’ll be fresh vegetables and rice, the next it’ll be french fries. It all depends on what they have on hand and what’s fresh.

Don’t party and drink your vacation away

I’ve met plenty of backpackers who sleep most of the day and party most of the night. That’s fine every now and then, but Costa Rica has a lot more to offer visitors than $1 Imperial beers and happening clubs.

Do get out and enjoy the scenery

There is too much to do in Costa Rica to list them all here. Consider white-water rafting, zip-lining through the rain forest, a beautiful hike, or even renting a surfboard and chilling on a beach.

Follow Jeff on Twitter or read more of his travel tales at Have Pack, Will Travel

“Welcome to Mexico City. There are 5 rules you most obey to make this a memorable visit for you. Uno: You will be at your hostel soon, because I drive fast. Muy fast. But you cannot make any Speedy Gonzales jokes. I mean this. The last man to break this rule lost a kidney. Dos: Any tequila you plan on drinking in the next 30 minutes must be shared with me. In fact, why don’t you just give me any tequila you have now, and I will tell you if it’s good or not. Tres: Do not get into a drinking competition with a Mexican. You will lose. Cuatro:  Learn in español the words for toilet (baños), more beer (más cerveza), and I like your moustache (Me gusta el bigote) –  and you will be fine. Cinco: Here is my card, don’t forget to call me when you need to go back to the airport.”

I’d been in the country for only 5 minutes, and knew straight away I was going to love it.

I could wax lyrical about Mexico City, but I’ll spare you an overuse of adjectives.  Vibrant is the best way to describe this place, the largest metropolitan area in the Americas, home to over 23 million people.

There are 16 districts or delegaciones that make up Mexico City, all built around the Centro Historico, home to the Zocalo – the 3^rd largest square in the world.

A few misconceptions that need to be cleared up;

Sure, it’s polluted. But what city this size isn’t? Mexico City sits in a plateau and as such gets smoggy. But it’s certainly livable and comparable to Los Angeles, and is much cleaner than Bangkok or any city in China. There was an incident in the 80’s where birds fell dead from the skies, but it seems the government took that as a warning and have since cleaned up their act, and the air.

You won’t get mugged. Well, probably not.  I found Mexican’s to be some of the nicest people I’ve ever had the fortune of meeting, and not once did I feel unsafe in Mexico City (There was one incident with a guy plying us with nachos and trying to sell us pot, He was agitated and kept looking outside the bar to where there were some policia conspicuously standing around, seemingly waiting to nab some Gringo’s for possession, so we politely declined. Good nachos though). As Chuck Thompson wrote in his book ‘To Hell Holes and Back’;

“Being stood up by Mad Max (to score coke) is the only outright act of discourtesy I experienced in Mexico City”

In fact, Mexico doesn’t even get a mention in the listverse.com Top 10 most dangerous places on earth, and Antarctica comes in at number 6. So there you go, safer than Antarctica. Obviously if you’re strolling around the districts of Tepito or Iztapalapa Sporting a Rolex or fiddling with your iPhone, you might have a different experience.

The food is awesome. Not once did I get sick of or from eating tamales, Quesadillas, Sopa de tortilla, taquitos or tacos. The only time I had a standing date with the porcelain in Mexico City was as after a sojourn in Havana. You know what’s good for Cuban food based tummy upsets? Tequila. Kills everything.

Mexican food is very meat based, but there’s still heaps of variety for a vegetarian, and if you’re a fishacrit (aquatarian, pescatarian etc) hit the coasts for a mean Pulpo Diablo. Still, I’d steer clear of the ‘Pesca del dia’ in Mexico city – the closest beach is 500km away.

The coolest thing about food in Mexico City? McDonald’s have self-service jalapeños.

A few things you can’t leave Mexico City without doing:

Witness the battle of the Mariachi Bands at Paza Garibaldi. Sit at a makeshift bar, downing margaritas and Negra medelo cervezas while being serenaded by some of the loudest singers you’ve ever heard, for a few pesos a song. Your ears will be ringing by the end of the night, but you might get asked to join in on a verse of La Cucaracha, guaranteed to be the most fun you’ve had in ages.

Stop by for a pot of tea at Frida Kahlo’s house. You can’t miss it, it’s the giant blue building with hundred’s of people queuing outside. Once you’re inside though, you don’t seem to notice the crowds as you idly walk through the rooms, checking out paintings, Diego Rivera’s murals, and the bed that Frida was confined to for over a year; right where she first started her self portraits while recovering from a horrific bus accident. It’s a beautiful house with a large courtyard that has been painstakingly restored and maintained as it was 60 years ago.  In the courtyard is a small café where you can grab a cup of tea and cake, served on plates emblazoned with Frida’s mono-browed image, along with a heap of other Frida y Diego memorabilia.

Drift down the Xochimilco floating markets. You know it’s going to be a great tour when your guide stops to pick up an esky full of corona’s. The Xochimilco floating market boats are painted in incredibly bright colours, the procession is very slow, with traffic congestion that borders on insanity, but hey, it’s not your problem. Take the opportunity to relax, drink a beer, and eat what ever is on offer from the old ladies that plow into the side of your boat.

Run up the Teotihuacán Pyramids. The 3^rd largest pyramid in the world is the Pyramid of the Sun, at Teotihuacán. A lot of people run up the steep steps of the pyramid, if only to get away from the touts at the base. Still, once you’re at the top (or as high as your guide will allow) it’s a breathtaking view. Once you have your breath back, it’s time for another dash through the maze of souvenir sellers along the calle de los muertos (street of the dead) to get to the Pyramid of the moon. Bring Ventolin.

Fill up on Mezcal. Or tequila for that matter. Infact, if you’re super adventurous there is a train that takes you from Guadalajara (the second largest town in Mexico) all the way to the town of Tequila, in the north. But I’m the sort of guy that would watch the tennis on TV instead of going to see it at the arena, so you can imagine I’d also subscribe to the  mantra of ‘fuck it, there’s perfectly good tequila, right here in Mexico City.’ I was not disappointed. A lot of bars I’d frequented in Centro Historico and Roma Condesa (two neighboring delegaciones known for art deco buildings, great restaurants and über grungy- cool drinking establishments) have over 130 types of Tequila and Mezcal, quickly resulting in a messy, and expensive night. (Rule of thumb, if the tequila bottle has the brand name plastered in gold, it’s most definitely more expensive than you can afford. It’s good to learn from past mistakes.)

I’ll be heading back to Mexico City in the new year. It’s such an exciting city to be in, the festivity of the city is palpable. So forget what you’ve heard. Just go. You won’t be disappointed. But maybe lay off the Speedy Gonzales jokes.

A last minute road trip I couldn’t refuse.

Jeff from Have Pack, Will Travel had a just over a week in Thailand, visiting the northern city of Chiang Mai – a place I hadn’t been to in my previous trips to Thailand.  He was gracious enough to invite me to tag along.

I rarely need an excuse to go overseas and this was no exception. While it would mean stretching all available leave options at my office job, it would afford me the chance to finally meet my travel writing boss and it’s hard to turn down a opportunity to eat some cheap and tasty Thai food.

I booked my tickets and we brainstormed a few activities to do, trying to fit in as much as we could in as little time as possible.  There’s always plenty to do in Thailand but our trip this time took on a purpose a bit different from the norm: we were going to motorbike from Chiang Mai to Pai – some 762 hairpin turns through the Mae Hong Son loop – one of the most scenic regions in the country.

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The first cool thing about Chiang Mai is that everyone seems pretty ok with you being there.  Not including the night bazaar, there were next to no touts trying to sell you treks, suits or prostitutes. In fact the whole lack of visible sex tourism was a welcome difference from some of the other well-known tourist haunts. People wanted to talk to us with no hidden agendas, and that’s a refreshing change to Bangkok and some of the places down south. Another cool thing about Chiang Mai is the food.  It’s spicy. You’d be right in guessing that the author of SanchezJalapeño is partial to a bit of chili, so the food was a bit of a highlight. It’s frustrating when you say you want something spicy but perhaps because you’re a farang you’re dished up a mild green curry, which has happened many a time. Not so in Chiang Mai.

The first stop for us a stroll through a few Wat’s, then dinner at the walking street market, which happens on Sunday nights.  Walking street however seemed to be a bit of an understatement as the fucking thing continues for miles. Blocks were sectioned off to house all the market stalls – everything from I heart Chiang Mai shirts, giant funky oil paintings, and dried fried insects.

Video © havepack.com

We planned an early night these things rarely go to plan and I spent a majority of the night drinking cheap scotch on the roof with an ever-rotating group of backpackers and my Australian friend Steve, who was along for the ride.

6am came and we groggily woke, showered and mounted our beasts – 3 automatic 100cc scooters which were to be our chariots for the trip to Pai.

The outskirts of Chiang Mai is an amazing place to be early in the morning. We passed songthaew’s crammed full of school kids waiving at us and Monks holding out their alms bowls collecting rice from the people on their way to work.  It’s probably an hour on the main road out of town before you reach the turn off to Pai.  Immediately the scenery changed, and the temperature dropped about 5 degrees. We stopped for breakfast at a small little café situated at the first of the 762 turns to come. After a breakfast of champions (or plain omelette and coffee, depends what your perspective is on such matters) we rode for a while before coming across a dirt path with a sign for waterfalls. We followed it 6km down an eroded dirt track, climbing little hills (no small feat considering we were on automatic scooters) finally arriving at a less than spectacular waterfall. But hey, the trip was good and I got the opportunity to place with a mangy dog I called bush puppy and take a photo of a scarecrow/laundry day.

Back on the main road we drove for a few hours before stopping for lunch.

I ordered the Tom Yum, then realized just how far we were from the ocean – my prawns were hardly going to be the catch of the day. Oh well, it still tasted pretty good and my chili quota for the day was met. We found another side road that led to a geyser so we followed it, almost crashing into a family of elephants being walked up the road.

Video © havepack.com

It was this encounter that reaffirmed my love for travelling (not that it had ever really waivered) – To see these awesome animals being walked up a road at least 20 kilometers from civilization, their owners waiving at us and smiling for photos. The bush puppy that earlier had come bolting up to me, almost making me fall over the top of my bike. I was getting sad that the purpose of my trip here to Thailand was halfway through, the realization that I’d soon be back in my cubical set in. But still, can’t go around forever with that frame of mind so I snapped out of it and  we continued riding, Pai being only a few hours away.

The trip takes a lot longer than you think it will. Any traveller who says they can do it in less than 2 hours is a dirty liar. A local guy we met later that night said he did the same trip, does it every week and it takes him 3 hours. But no matter how long people say it takes them, all agree that the hardest and most complicated part of the ride is the last hour; basically a freefall decent down hairpin turns on the side of a giant cliff – made all the more difficult due to my lake of fuel, but luckily I could turn the bike off and coast most of the way down the mountain.

Before I knew it (well, in fairness 8 and a half hours after we left Chiang Mai) we were cruising into Pai – A small hippy town with a surprisingly large Muslim population set on the bank of the Mekong Pai river, near the Myanmar border. The town is a good base for exploring through some of the Hill Tribes, hot springs and elephant camps, but mainly survives on tourism, with Farang’s counting for most of the visitors until the release of two Thai romantic movies set in Pai (they do love their sappy romance movies) which has resulting in a huge swing in domestic tourist numbers.

Riverside Bungalow in Pai

We spent a few days in Pai, writing notes and checking out the town before we started to think about how to get back to Chiang Mai. We thoroughly enjoyed our epic trip here, but the prospect of doing it all over again wasn’t exactly high on our agenda. So we flew. Nok Mini flies a 12 seater plane daily from Pai to Chiang Mai for about $60 –which was was worth it just for the amazing views over Mae Hong Son, an added bonus being that the flight took 25 minutes.

If you are considering doing the same trip, here’s a few tips:

• Aya are the only company I could find that offer one way motorcycle rentals between Chaing Mai and Pai. At 120 baht they are incredibly cheap but the bikes were well looked after and services.

• Consider getting a GT rider map of the Mae Hong Son loop. It features detailed topography, dirt roads and suggested itineraries.

• Get travel insurance. The last thing you want is a hospital bill that  is $10,000+ just because of a motorbike accident.

• If you can, leave enough time to see some of the hill tribes, and continue onwards past Pai on the Mae Hong Son loop, I hear amazing things about Cave Lodge and can’t wait to explore there in early 2011.

Follow Shane on Twitter, read his posts at Havepack, or catch up on his travels here.

Backpackers sometimes get a bad rap. We’re considered lazy, dirty bed bug riddled floozies that fill up all the seats on the chicken bus with our backpacks, float between tourist slums so we can drink cheap beer and tick off another place on our itineraries. We’re called cheapskates; spending as little money as possible to delay having to go back to the real world and do real things, like getting a job.

And it’s sort of true.

Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. But just because the majority of us portray some of the characteristics listed above, it doesn’t mean we’re all like that, all of the time.

Ahem.

It’s a very broad generalisation, but what I’ve noticed is that as well as that ‘backpacker group’ I’ve listed above,  there’s a few subgroups – the Hippies, the Lads, the Bogans and the Wankers –  so I’m going to jump right on the typecasting bandwagon and share some of my observations on these groups that I’ve come across during my travels. Allow me to put on my judging cap, strap yourself in and try a few of these pigeon-holes on for size;

The Lads (and ladettes)

Cashed up Brits are forces to be reckoned with. Generally found in SE Asia they’ve exchanged their pounds

Lads. Nature's idiots.

for about a gazillion Baht and are living like kings; Eating and drinking their way around town, though you’ll find them at the pubs more often than at the street markets. Often acting like drunk raging lunatics anytime after midday (which is about the time they wake up) you’ll rarely find the lad on the tour bus, but once you’re at the pub you can’t swing a cat sideways without hitting one. -they’re no doubt at the bar trying to pick up anything with boobs. Like a moth to a flame they all migrate to Ko Pha Ngan for the full moon party once a month, which means it’s a great time to see, well, any other place.

Likes: Alcohol buckets, pub curries and cheap cigarettes

Dislikes: Most other things – notorious whingers.

The Aussie Bogan

Southern Cross Tattoo? You my friend, are a Bogan.

Thailand and Bali are both incredibly cheap to get to from Australia, which means that even those on the dole can afford it, and the Aussie Bogans are out in force. Wearing wife-beaters (singlets) and sporting a mullet, these bogans are often found in the beach side pubs with the British lads, drinking cheap beer and watching the cricket. Bogans do like to get a bit of ‘culcha’ so there is the chance you’ll get stuck next to them on the mini bus to the Tiger Temple. Be prepared for some ear piercing Aussie vernacular when ‘Nicko’ yells at ‘Cheryl’ to ‘look after the fucking kids’, because ‘they’re given me the shits!’

Likes: Tribal Tattoos, Tiger Beer, a liberal approach to personal hygiene.

Dislikes: Immigrants, Hippies, New Zealanders, Bok Choy.

The Hippies

Old saying: A hippy a day... will give you syphilis.

You can spot them a mile away. Reggae Dub blaring from the speakers at the Rasta bar, mango shake in hand, The Hippies can be found lounging around all day on fancy triangle cushions discussing the who has the biggest dreadlocks and the differences between normal and organic chickpeas. Harmless more than anything, though you should be prepared  for enough glaring to make you want to crawl under a rock and cry, bucket loads of indignation and the faint odour of Roquefort – The Hippies feet (not unlike the rest of their bodies) are somewhat unaccustomed to warm water and soap.

Likes: Tofu, cheap dorms and armpit hair

Dislikes: Things that are not Tofu, cheap dorms or armpit hair

The Insular American

On my recent trip overseas I asked as all the Americans I crossed paths with if they knew the name of the Australian, Canadian, New Zealand or British Prime Ministers. Not one person got any of them right. Insular Americans tend not to know much about anything that doesn’t happen within their own borders. You could blame the education system, their mind numbingly stoopid TV (Survivor, anyone?) or the perhaps misguided perception that USA really is ‘Number 1’. It’s probably a combination of all. It’s sometimes frustrating sure, but don’t blame them too much, they are after all a product of their environment. Just smile, bite your tongue and have a bit of a chuckle about how much more worldly you are… which is an excellent segue to…

The Stuck-up Backpacker Wanker

Travel Wanker? we'll find out in 15 years or so.

They sleep on potato sacks in a horse stable instead of forking out for a dorm bed. Dinner is a bowl of cold rice.  They don’t fly, take the train, the bus or the boat, instead they hitch lifts on the back of  donkey drawn carts or float on a hand made bamboo raft dkown the Mekong. They can’t wait for you to finish talking so they can role their eyes and chastise you for being a ‘tourist’ and not a ‘traveller’. They’ve always done everything cheaper, harder, longer and immersed themselves further into anything you’ve ever done. Ever.

And they give me the shits. Easiest way to avoid them? –  Forget South America or South East Asia, go to Europe instead.

Likes: Hating other backpackers, not spending any money, taking the hardest, longest possible route as they believe it gives them ‘travel cred’.

Dislikes: Other people. Unless they can wrangle those other people into buying them dinner.

I see bits of myself in about three of those groups.

Notable mentions include The Lonely Planet Army, The Tight-Arse Angry Israeli’s, The Contiki Clubber’s and The Spoilt Princess/Daddy’s Credit Card Troupe.

* One final note regarding Insular Backpackers – it’s not just the American’s. I once had a conversation with a British girl who was quite surprised to hear that Australia had a queen. Imagine how her mind exploded when I explained that it was in fact the very same Queen that she had in the UK, and that the Canadians share her with us too.

Have you noticed how many travel blog sites are out there? Heaps is a gross understatement. On Twitter alone I must follow at least 150 really interesting and informative travel blog writers. I’m always on the look out for new blog to follow - it’s such a joy to find a hidden gem full of interesting facts and travelogues on cities I want to visit or compare trip notes with.

That’s why I’m glad I stumbled across travelblogsites.com. I’ve been following this website for a little while now. They rank the webs best travel blogs on a weekly basis, and profiles the best ones daily. It’s sort of like a one stop shop for quality, independant travel writing. It’s run by the guys from travelpod (which in my humble opinion houses some of the worlds best travel journals… you can read mine here) and I’ve been fortunate enough to now have sanchezjalapeno.com join the TravelBlogSites community which I’m very excited about.

The site is a great resource while to while away a few hours, or get inspired by some really creative travel writing. Check it out or follow TravelPod on twitter

Follow Shane on Twitter , read his guest posts at havepack.com or catch up on his travels here.