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“Mai pen drai. Mai pen drai,” the nurses kept saying gently to me, smiling, as I lay on my back in a hospital bed. They were trying to reassure me: no big deal, don’t you worry. “Pen drai…pen drai…” I weakly whimpered back, knowing very well that this was not a legitimate phrase for “all this puke is too a problem!” The nurses ignored the pleas of the foolish farang (foreigner). They gave me an “anti-womitting” pill that I quickly purged myself of and then tried to insert an IV into my shaky arm.

One hour previously I had announced to a vanful of fellow students (heading home from Bangkok) that I wasn’t feeling well and then promptly yarfed into a tiny plastic bag. The driver quickly detoured the van of disgusted, irritated students to the nearest hospital. After the IV was in me, they wheeled me into a large room full of beds with other people, all in apparent agony, where I surveyed the surroundings in dismay.

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Hazer Baba Pistachio-rich Finest Turkish Delight

My roommate recently returned from a trip to Turkey.  Among the many exotic gifts she brought home (mini-Whirling Dervish dolls, embroidered scarves, sweet apple tea), was a small, unassuming box of candy.  Standard souvenir fare for the experienced traveler.  Often picked up at airport lounges and gift shops, in a last ditch effort to cover all her obligatory souvenir bases.  This, however, was not just any candy.  If it were purchased at the last minute in the Istanbul airport, I don’t even care.  Because it was Turkish Delight.  Specifically, Hazer Baba Pistachio-rich Finest Turkish Delight.  And it was wonderful.

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Fijian beach - photo by Meghan

The freezing weather of New England this October has led my mind to stray to better days and warmer climes.  About this time three years ago, I was fortunate enough to find myself lying on a deserted tropical beach, befriending locals, and running around without electricity or running fresh water.

What drew me to Fiji was, of course, the tropical weather, white sand beaches, and palm trees, but what really interested me was the culture.  Fiji is a country comprised of hundreds of small islands, some of the more remote of which house tribal populations.  The last reported case of cannibalism, historically a tradition among some of the Fijian peoples, was in 1994.

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Stradun - photo by Lisa

Most people don’t realize that while the old town of Dubrovnik is quite small, navigating the pedestrian-only main street, Stradun, can take anywhere from three minutes to seven hours. The street is only about 300 meters long.  If you are on Stradun the diversions are apparent,  yet still, doing the three minute tour is difficult to accomplish.

You have to treat Stradun like ski slope.

The first step is to take a minute at the top of Stradun to survey the situation. The main impediment is the crowds.  (It has become a local pastime to complain about the crowds. Either too many crowds are ruining the ambiance or a lack of crowds is ruining business.)

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An Irreverent Curiosity - by David Farley

First and foremost, David Farley is a (self-proclaimed) awesome dancer. Secondly, Farley is the author of An Irreverent Curiosity and has travel essays in Travelers’ Tales Best Travel Writing 2009, Travelers’ Tales Prague, and 30 Days in Italy–as well as in numerous magazines and newspapers. And wait, there’s more: he also writes for WorldHum.com. We had so much fun asking Rolf Potts some questions we decided to see if one of our other favorite travel writers would answer and even be up for our version of The Hemingway Challenge.  He was kind enough to respond.

1) Do you prefer aisle or window? (Please explain.)

Always the aisle. I like to move about the cabin whenever the spirit strikes me and if I’m sitting at the window, I’m stuck there, lest I want to pester the person sitting at the aisle (which I don’t). Extra special bonus lovely seat: the aisle seat in an exit row.

2) Have you ever pretended that you were Canadian while overseas?

Never. And I never will.

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Marco Polo Didn't Go There - by Rolf Potts

Marco Polo Didn’t Go There is a collection of travel stories by Rolf Potts from a decade of writing for publications like National Geographic Traveler, Salon.com, and WorldHum.com. He’s also been selected for The Best American Travel Writing anthologies several times and is best known for his book, Vagabonding: An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel. Each essay in Marco Polo is accompanied by  a “special commentary track” that gives the reader clarifications and anecdotes about each story. After Sarah and I read the book, we still had a few questions that we were dying to ask. Since his travel advice column for WorldHum.com is called Ask Rolf…we did.

1. Do you prefer aisle or window? (Please explain why.)

Aisle.  I have long legs, and it’s nice to stretch them out every so often.

I’d say the bag of peanuts I bought in the Siphandon region of Laos in 1999. There were rumors of a cholera epidemic in the area at the time, so I was avoiding restaurant meals.  I figured a bag of peanuts would be fine.

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Tourista! - photo by Sarah

When I returned to the 7-11, Stosh was just returning from getting the car fixed. He had met a local college student who spoke English. He was eager to help get the car fixed in return for a ride to Cascada Cola de Caballo, a local tourist destination that featuring hiking, waterfalls, and – yes – bungee jumping.

Cola de Caballo is Spanish for “Horse Tail” and describes a waterfall that sits above the forest canopy an hour outside of Monterrey. The place reads like Disneyland: families, resorts, stalls selling knick-knacks and food – all in a way that seemed utterly foreign and strange. The concept of taking a natural landscape and creating this kind of tourist attraction seemed odd to me; In America, we build roller coasters and ferris wheels for this kind of enjoyment. Nature is held in a forced state of pristine beauty, in reserves and national parks. Here, the peacocks were drinking piña coladas the size of my head, and a midget ticket-taker was sitting on a donkey.

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The Last Fish Tale by Mark Kurlansky

Like Mark Kurlansky’s other books, including Salt and Cod, his most recent, The Last Fish Tale, explores one subject in great detail. In this case, the book could have easily been called Gloucester.  The narrative explores local Gloucester, Mass from past to present, covering fishing industry issues it has faced and how the city has progressed since then.

This book was particularly relevant to me, as I spent three frigid months last winter living out of a motel there, working on day-fishing boats for my job as a National Marine Fisheries Observer.  Since working at The Globe Corner Bookstore, I appreciate being dry, not being covered in fish slime, and being on solid ground.  Still, I miss Gloucester.  So when I picked up this book recently, I was transported back to that unique town.

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Monterrey Mural - photo by Sarah

Monterrey, Mexico is a geodesic prism of youth culture that lies under the radar of foreign tourists. I arrived after three ten-hour days of driving in the desert in a van with no air conditioning. My glasses had broken at the onset of the trip when the van broke down in New Mexico. Rather, I broke my glasses in the broken van and it all seemed so fitting – Murphy’s Law or some other idea that can be referenced in situations where everything is spiraling in a direction you’d rather not see it go.

Two hours into a month-long trip through seven countries, the van broke down. Parked at the closed mechanic’s shop, I practiced yoga in the back of the van. When I got up from a shoulder stand, my glasses were absurdly looking back at me in two pieces. Like a pug whose eyes look in two different directions. Maybe I shouted, or maybe I laughed, but in either case I was frustrated, and continued to be playfully frustrated for the next three days as I wrestled my broken glasses onto my face with duct tape.

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French Quarter - photo by Jess

Too broke and too busy to travel abroad, I instead took three small trips around the country this summer.

The subtitle of this post should be “24 hours driving, 24 hours there.” In early August I drove 24 hours, almost straight, to New Orleans, and had about the same amount of time in the city itself. The term “road trip” may suggest a fun, leisurely drive with numerous pit stops to see America’s eccentricities – the world’s largest rubber band ball, the country’s best apple pie, or the largest state fair, for example. But make no mistake, this road trip was strictly business – get to New Orleans! (I did, however, stop off in South Carolina for Chick-fil-A and Atlanta for Chipotle… yum.)

My time in New Orleans was unfairly short and I feel like I only had time to do about seven things… But, of those seven things, some stood out as winners. Here’s what I’d recommend:

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