backpacker illusions

Time of your life with .... Facebook Timeline

2012-02-05T05:32:00.005-08:00

Facebook Timeline. The time of your life. Your life story...

Uhmmm, no, no its not.

Its not my life and it doesn't come close to providing a snapshot of my life either. So wax it Facecrack. Im not down with it. I aint 'liking' this....

So, sorry bout the vent, but if you dont know already, Facebook is rolling out the new timeline across the board. Awesome, cant wait. Actually, I can. And I have. Resisted the non existent temptation to turn my Facebook content into a peeping porthole. A bit cynical...?! I dont really care what you think anyway...

Time line. A revolutionary way of displaying ones past for the vogueruistic pleasure of others to drool over. Pass me the Facecloth please...

Awesome, well no, not really, im not a big fan.

Or am I?....

Timeline exposes nearly every recorded piece of data you have ever been associated with in a fancy pants new skinned design. The photos are breezy and the content scrollable, its now like flicking through a file, yet that file is a persons life.

Ok so for some, they love it. Hurrah! Its the tool that just sums up large segments of your life and voids any cognitive function to communicate on a level we had once been accustomed to. Long before this thing called Facebook, there existed electronic mail, and to be frank, (or murray) thats all I keep my Facebook account open for these days. Instant messaging to a very wide radiance of acquaintances.

You see, I think its all gone a bit pete tong. Facebook now has morphed into a living and growing organism. It retains all information, owns all information ever uploaded to it and can use, duplicate and display that information pretty much how they please. The recent floating of Facebook onto the internet has sent stock markets and financial analysts scrawling in attempts to actually 'value' this company.

Its been valued alright, a whopping $90 billion but a lot of this value is placed on the information that Facebook actually holds. As a user, that automatically sets off my alarm bells.

I have for some time, restricted my personal use of Facebook. I havent uploaded any photos, very rarely use my wall to write or post things and again, rarely engage in conversations with my 'friends' unless it is via direct messaging service. Thats just me, Im starting to withdraw from certain social action as the old cliche goes, once bitten, twice shy...

I can recall a few years back when some photos were uploaded of a farewell party for me. The party was comically coined 'Big Gay Dens Big Gay Leaving Party' on a big painted banner, the self proclaimed 'jokers' I had been working with in the hostel thought it was a hilarious title to theme a party. 'Gays n Lesbians' was the get up, and get on up the party got.

Needless to say there were some classic and compromising snapshots uploaded to the F.book over the following days. A couple of photos featuring me walking round with an inflatable penis tied round my waste (doing drunken silly things behind peoples backs) made it back to my mother and unbeknown to me some of my little cousins had copped it also.

God only knows how people digest things, but in hindsight its probably not the type of photos you would whip out on the coffee table around a family get-together. Esp from the conservative roots that my family heralds from. "No mum, everyone is just acting, they're not gay, im not gay, she's not gay, he's not.....well maybe he's a bit gay....and yes thats a tattooed penis on my bicep and forehead..." Wtf, I thought, why am i even trying to explain this...?!!

I learnt my lesson. Some people live and breathe what is posted on Facebook. 1 million miles away the harmless banter that can seem jovial and at the very least comical at the time, you gotta realise that that shits viral, aint no firewall protecting your granny from viewing that tagged photo of you and your mate in a mankini. (for the books, i wasnt in the mankini!)

I guess in a way it has something to do with the shear number of 'friends' I have on Facebook as well and the different value that I place on the respective levels of friendships. I am aware of privacy filters and have a few attached to my profile, but this recent move by Facebook of compulsory roll out of the timeline has seen me shut off pretty much all information that I wish to share with this massive corporation.

I had a conversation with a mate the other night, about Facebook 'friends'. The conclusion we came to was, if hypothetically, tomorrow or in 5 years time, I was in their town (and had time up my sleeve) and chose not to call/see them, then, really, are they are 'friend'?!

The recent flutterings in the internet winds has sent a warning shiver down my spine with the encroaching influences of ACTA and SOPA and the localisation control implemented in other corners of the internet. The world of free flowing information is now being quietly coerced, controlled and manipulated behind the scenes. If anything, Im erring on the side of caution when it comes to uploading personal data on the web in general.

So for me, is it creepy or beautiful?! I spose when your made aware of the creepy habits of some whom use this telescope of time it starts to loose its novelty.

Its beautiful in the sense that we are all guilty of a bit of voyerguism in our own rights, but theres nothing beautiful about privatising personal information.

The web is changing, it is about as obvious as climate warming, but again, too few people actually give a shit and the big bizos continue to grind the turning stones.......sharpening some form of futuristic leverage on us all....

#HeyBackpacker....

2012-02-02T15:01:00.000-08:00

#heybackpacker is a trending hashtag on twitter at the mo, circulating the travel tweeps like an STD outbreak in a Peruvian Hostel.

It begs the question, what is a backpacker? Funnily enough, I named this blog that exact question a few moons ago. It was a phrase that my mind boggled over for quite some time. Until I came to the conclusion that I didnt really care what constituted a backpacker, per se, tou-che.

A backpacker has obvious traits. Similarities in character and particular traveling values that set backpackers apart from other "types" of travellers. They proudly refuse to be placed into the 'tourist' bucket.

Yet they struggle with the stereotypes often associated with a backpacker, the pot smoking, song writing, unwashed, tree hugging, unshaven long-haired friends of jesus.

Where in reality, the picture of a painted backpacker is a far cry from these stereotypical labels.

The rise of the Flashpacker has turned heads within the travel industry.

They are now a marketable bunch of travellers that hoteliers and boutique hostels are scrambling like eggs to get their business.

Flashpackers share the same independent spirit of a backpacker, which is to travel the road less traveled in a more independent manner.

They are usually a bit more cashed up and are generally there to get the maximum out of the minimum time frames they have on their travels.

They are a new breed of backpacker, growing by their thousands. But they are not the only offshoot of backpacker, other DNA strands have taken to the road, stamping their unique style upon the paths they walk.

The eco warrior backpacker has emerged from the bushes. Fiesty and righteous and deservedly so, they practice what they preach and are one of the few types of travellers that actually walk the walk after talking the talk.

These are the backpackers who offset their carbon footprint. The type of traveler that turns off the lights as they walk out of an unused dormitory. Its the little things, but as we all know, its the little things that matter....

They are in my opinion a new breed of positivity in the backpacker scene. This type of traveler engages with the wider social and cultural developments that occur around them. They are not one for thinking that someone else, some other day, will pick up the pieces or clean up the mess. They are positive engaging people with positive engaging attitudes towards travel.

Its a refreshing buzz to see this level of consciousness out on the backpacking scene. Travellers who actually give a fuck about the sustainability of the environment that they are lucky enough to experience.

Community driven and globally inspired, these aren't your tree hugging hippie travellers. Rid your perceptions of these misconceptions, Ecopackers possess a huge amount of respect for the social, environmental and cultural aspects of travel. And in turn, they ought to be respected for their effort and contribution to making travel the beautiful thing it is.

so #heybackpacker, check it before you wreck it. Take a leaf from an Ecopackers book.

Leaving on a jet plane...

2011-12-30T15:24:00.000-08:00

ive just endured a big boy journey. a 38 hour UK to NZ long haul with a couple of stop overs. the joys of buying cheap seats and flying on xmas day aye?! i never really had another option. but its cool. i like it. i often boast that if i had a good book and my laptop and an endless supply of airline food and beverage, i could fly to nz and back again. people look at me strangely. but thats alright. im alright with being a little strange.

throughout the trip i pondered a few things that annoy me on long haul flights.

the first being airport announcements.

they are often an incoherent dribble in an undetermined language, rattled out over tinny speakers that ruffle my fuzzy airplane head.

ive had the unfortunate pleasure of falling asleep in some muggy equatorial airport and drifting in and out of consciousness like i was fluttering through a dream where my name was being broadcasted across a sea of people in a crowded space.

it wasnt a dream. i missed my flight due to the incoherent smack the attendant was dribbling. the speakers were shit. my name was severely distorted and i was left stranded with $2.50 in my pocket and no ticket out of a hole that i desperately needed to crawl out of. airport announcements, i know your trying to be helpful, but fuck, slow down, speak clearly and upgrade your bloody speakers so that they are audible.

the second thing that grates me are muffled farts escaping down the aisle.

the pockets of mouldy mustard flavoured waft casually linger around the aisles, bouncing off the compressed air compartments with no where to disperse.

come on. i know, in fact we all know, how good it feels to let one slip, in fact, the smell of ones own farty aroma is a pleasurable indulgence,a guilty pleasure, but christ, to gas out a windowless box with innocent fare paying strangers less than 5 cm either side of you.

come onnnn!!! cop on. dont drop it likes it hot. airplane food is rank at the best of time. after its passed through your bowels its even more vial.

say no to flatulence at 30000 feet. its far from flattering and it flounders...

that brings me to airline toilets.

no matter where you go, its usually a bombshell. the tiny cubicles inside the cabins, theres no room to swing a cat and certainly no room to drop a bomb.

theres no escape from an asian airline meal thats just been flushed down the loo at 30,000 feet. they should have neutral odor spray or something.

have you ever had to sit opposite the door of a toilet on a long haul flight? torture. you need a WW11 gas mask with industrial earplugs to stay sane.

and finally, babies on board.

yup. up there with the worst. upon boarding a plane and making my way to my allocated seat, my eyes are cast upon the seats around me, wheres the kids? the inevitable screaming little munchkins that are going to pierce my eardrums for the entirety of the journey. wails and high pitched screeches.

im acutely aware for little babies its a result of eardrums being tested so i concur its tough. but its not just the crying or the babies, its the kids kicking the seat behind me. its the constant bullshit chatter and niggly little arguments they get into with their siblings. its the waking up at 3am to watch the cartoons and talk about them until breakfast is served.

but i made it without loosing my cool. its all part of the parcel. long haul flights on a budget airline. you get what you pay for. fun and games....minus the console on air asia....

2011-12-13T10:38:00.000-08:00

This made me laugh...

This made me smile

Will be back on the writing bandwagon pronto....stay tuned....

Been busier than this panda bear.....

Visual treats on a sunny Sunday morning...

2011-11-27T02:02:00.000-08:00

Ive been mad busy lately smashing out assignments, assessments and even a couple of dirty 3 hour exams. Got plenty more on the horizon with the next couple of weeks sending me back deep into the books. Good times tho, learning is a beautiful thing. I like watering plants as much as I like feeding my brain.

Needless to say Ive been writing loads, but my blog has been neglected. So on this sunday morning with a pile of work ahead of me, I want to leave you with a few visuals. Sometimes more powerful than words themselves.

The man who rarely spoke, speaks louder than words...

Bit more upbeat, hitchhiking trip around the world...

Walking down portobello road yesterday with my sister, I noticed this, you gota love the bluntness of Banksy. He hits it where it resonates....

And lastly, people are awesome.

The Anticipation of Travel.

2011-10-29T16:29:00.000-07:00

Its an itch that scratches red raw. An urge that jolts me from my sleep. A reoccurring nightmare that I want to relive, over and over again.

Life in this city is great. Its vibrant and bustling with almost too much to do and see. If feels like there is a whole world on your doorstep. In reality there is. This is a crazy world, within the world. Its an assault on the senses upon walking out your door in downtown W1 London. But what my senses really crave is a true sensory experience. A real escape to a self-prescribed utopian land that dreams are made of. Whoever said 'We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us' couldnt of been more right.

Life escapes the majority of us. We wake up daily and get on with the days proceedings and then we rest our head down again later that night, wrapping it all up and storing it in the memory bank, appropriately labelled 'yesterday'. This process rolls like a tumbleweed across some peoples lives and thunders down the tracks like a snowball in others. We all play this game of life with a different twist. We all escape daily. Its just that the boundaries are different for all of us.

For that Im eternally grateful. My self imposed boundaries on life have been cast wide. I fostered an early desire to travel when I first possessed the means to be able to do so. It wasnt imposed on me, it was a choice. A desire. A relief to a personal itch.

I have travelled extensively. It surpasses anything I have ever done in my life due to the experiences Ive had, the people Ive met and the places Ive seen. I have attempted thus far in my short time on this earth to not let life escape me.

The days pass quicker each year however. I look behind me and see my youth slipping away in the dust that Ive kicked up. Settling over the roads that Ive walked upon, etching the memory of my footprints into history. My history as a human being on this earth.

Im a lucky man. My footprints have been left in some pretty amazing places. But the traveler within me knows that my feet would love to walk again. Theres only so much walking around London one can do.

But its not all melodramatic. Christ, youd think Id been padlocked to a wall for the past year. Ive walked the shores of Spain, France, Ireland and New Zealand and I feel like I havent even put my shoes on. I spose its that undying want for what you cannot have in a way. Cos if i had my way, Id eat peaches every day...

I have worn the dust of many foreign streets, but to brush it off would surely be a crime.
I have the memories of many foreign adventures, but to forget them, would surely be a sin.
So, breath in the dust, and keep the memories in.

- Rowland Waring-Flood

Walk on...

Carpe Diem

2011-10-13T00:29:00.000-07:00

Flashpacking at a music festival...

2011-09-13T06:14:00.000-07:00

Boasting & roasting the accolades for the 'Best UK festival for 2010', understandably there were high expectations for Bestival 2011 and suffice to say, they were all met.

Apart from maybe the blue sunny skies, but hey, where are we again....yup, the Poo-K.

Last year, 55000 people set the Guinness World Record for the most people dressed at any one event.

This year, there were easily over 50,000 people and Saturday was reserved for the best dressed with all the beasts coming out of the bushes in their Sunday best.

There were countless highlights, but musically I would have to bow down to the legendary set played by DJ Shadow in the big tent, kudos to Chromeo for some old school quality.

Magnetic Man pumped out a fizzer and a comical Village People set were but some of the highlights.

Gutted I missed Primal Scream but thems the breaks at a festy loaded with numerous stages, tents and many many musical gods.

Our crew were all classically dressed in all sorts of outfits, until the heavens opened and the jackets came out sending us running for our.....wait for it.... "Boutique Camping zone"...

Yeah yeah I know, cringe cringe, whats that about. But this was a plan well-planned and as for the execution, well, it was kinda messy, but executed nonetheless....

The Octopad, was a saving sanctuary only 5min from the main stage, with its own block of clean toilets, warm showers and food stalls.

All of these amenities were seriously milked over the course of 4 nights, with 2 of those nights experiencing really shitty weather.

The Octopad (on the right) came with 4 beds and mattresses, wooden floors with carpet and electricity. Ha. Loose.

This was definitely Glamping at its best. 'Glamourous Camping.' An extension of Flashpacking ideals, this is camping with all the bells and whistles.

Now I realise I am getting older and with it comes concessions. I passed my 31st birthday whilst out 'Glamping' at Bestival. Whether the two are interconnected is something I will ponder over the days that will unfold before me.

I suppose I will just have to wait to see if my next travel adventure involves touches of Flashpacking. Only then will I succumb to the fact that things are seriously changing in my life hahaaaaaaa....

But until then, its good to try new things. Mix it up. Take an Octopad over a wet pup-tent.

Take a poo on a clean seat.

Choose life.

Choose a job.

Choose a career.

Choose a family.

Choose a fucking big television.

Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin can openers.

Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance.

Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments.

Choose a starter home.

Choose your friends.

Choose leisure wear and matching luggage.

Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.

Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning.

Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.

Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.

Choose life . . .

Shit Happens... (in Colombia..)

2011-09-01T14:25:00.000-07:00

The backpacking road is full of surprises.

And sometimes, shit happens....

Journeys of potential-bliss can turn into freakish-nightmares in a matter of minutes.

Such was the situation I found myself in on a sunny-Sunday afternoon staring out the window of a Colombian bus on a 22-hour journey towards Ecuador.

It all started back in Bogota at the Platypus Hostel as I was stuffing the last of my belongings into my backpack.

I was out in the courtyard in a hurry to say goodbyes to fellow backpackers that I had befriended during my brief stay. Familiar faces, smiles and waves. That goodbye-blur on a Sunday morning in a foreign hostel.

No one really wants to engage you, its too early, its Sunday, acknowledgements are sufficient.

The unspoken backpacker code murmured and nodded. Respect, keep calm and carry on.

This Dutch dude pokes his head out of the door, I recognized his face hazily, I had seen him around, perhaps we had chatted, shared a few brews around the courtyard with the many other backpackers that stayed in the infamous Platypus Hostel in central Bogota.

It was a Partypackers hostel, the type of place you meet some of the Gringo trail's interesting characters.

"Hey man, you going to Quito?! its a long trip man, take these, they'll help.."

and with that he stretched out his hand from behind the half-opened doorway. I shook his hand, instantly noticing the press of a small packet in my palm at the same time.

"Sweet mate, cheers, good luck on your travels"

and with that I was off to Ecuador...

Before long I was on the bus, belting into the lush countryside in the early hours of a relatively quiet morning for Colombian standards. We zipped past the outskirts of Bogota and into the wider green countryside of Colombia, or Locolombia as its often referred to by its inhabitants.

I had the blessings bestowed upon me to sit besides a young women and her fat chubby son.

El Gordito, he became quickly registered in my inner thoughts now spiralling out of control.

‘Fuck it’ I thought. He was restless. Big and burly. A right handful for his young mother. A notable presence wedged in between the pair of us.

"This little fatty bom bom is gonna piss me off"

I caught myself quietly muttering out loud in plain english. And as if he heard my cue, he proceeded to drive his toy car up the side of my leg. A shy smile from the young mother and I found myself rebounding back her smile. He's cool, just a harmless youngster. I looked out the window from the aisle seat, only 21 more hours to go. Shit...

It was two hours and thirty minutes into the ride when my hangover really started to kick in.

The cumbia music thrashing out in the tinny speakers somehow had eluded my attention thus far, now it was grating the side of my tender head.

I hadn't taken sleeping pills before on a long distance bus journey, but somehow the next few hours of fatty broomm brooomm driving his toy car up and down my leg and this ear piercing music was not going to cut the mustard.

The trump card came in the form of two white pills. Small and tablety. Knock-out-nuggets of savior in this hour of need, several hundred kilometers from Quito in a loud rickety bus with the stifling midday heat creeping up on us all.

I reached into my pocket, leaning up on one arse-cheek hanging out the aisle, and in one smooth motion, dropped the pills in my mouth as I chugged on some of my luke-warm apple postobon.

'Later gator' I smurked down at El Gordito...

My head must of lay dormant for a period of ten minutes, trying to shut everything off and slip into sleeptopia. I flipped over to look out the window.

And the cumbia band played on.

It felt like an hour and my pill action had bore no harvest, I was still awake. Fatty brroomm brroomm had been restless as per usual and the cows were still passing in the blurry rush outside the finger-marked window.

I felt hungry but I felt sick at the thought of food. A wave of nausea swept over me. Ahh, could this be it I optimistically pondered, I dropped the shutters on my eyelids and lay my head back to rest.

No matter how much you butter it up, there is no way to describe the feeling when a sudden surge of diarrhea grips you.

An inferno roars within you, tears through your innards and shoots down through your intestines at a lighting pace. Your stomach tightens and your sphincter is overcome with a sudden urge to relax, to release the immense pressure building up behind it.

And its that very urge that you must combat and defeat within the 10 second onslaught of a flush of instantaneous diarrhea.

If you let your determination down, you can kiss your dignity goodbye.

No, this cant be happening, I frantically tried to regather my composure. The young mother and Andreas (fatty bom boms real name) had looked up at me, I must of lurched, squirmed or maybe even let out a terrified yelp. They smelt something coming...

I was so focussed on keeping the back door locked that I lost any sense of my movements and/or vocals.

It took me 1.5 seconds to not only realise the gravity of the situation ahead of me but the catalyst responsible.

I had been done. I had slipped down a double dosage of laxatives.

The joke was on me. My thoughts were climbing over top of one another, I tried to sit up straight, I started to smile, I gripped the aisle hand rail, I took a deep breath.

Thats actually quite funny I thought. I bet they are pissing themselves with laughter right now.

This was going to be the mother of all battles. Fighting off a double drop dosage of laxatives whilst sweating out a hangover with loud music on an uncomfortable bus with an irritating seat partner driving his toy car up and down my legs every few minutes.

I took my breathing down and tried to scramble some thoughts together for a plan of action.

I needed a toilet. This was no flashpacker bus. That luxury didnt exist.

Sweat started to gather on my brow. I needed toilet paper. Nah first things first. No amount of Colombian one ply toilet paper is going to mop this badboy up if the dam bursts.

Another surge started to swell within me. The tide started to turn somewhere deep in my tummy. I started thinking, this is it Den, your all over here, its the 'laxative-express' hurling down the tracks hard and fast.....

A million thoughts crossed my mind. Kiss goodbye to all the dignity you have stored away whilst on this trip Denis, in fact, explain to the raging bus driver in your fumbling spanish that his seat is soiled. Explain to those around you who are pulling out handkerchiefs faster than you can scramble your words together.

Look the young mother and Andreas in the eye and say 'sorry, i shat myself.'

I clenched my dignity with all my might....

And it burned, burned burned....that ring of fire... that ring of fire.....

To Die For...

2011-08-22T04:21:00.000-07:00

On the morning of the Battle of Big Horn, Crazy Horse rose early to meet the dawn and paid homage to his creator. He then turned to his brave band of Indians and said ..

"Today is a great day to die....”

Is today, or any day for that matter, a great day to die?!

It is, if you believe enough in what your doing....

As the Rebels close in on Tripoli....an all too apparent realization washes over me.

They bid goodbye to their families and joined the mobs of men heading to ‘liberate’ Tripoli and dispose of the Gaddafi Regime. They were from all different backgrounds, tribes and professions, but they all shared one thing in common. They were there to lay down their lives for their belief in what they were doing.

They were prepared to die.

It has always fascinated me. Men, women and children who are prepared to die for what they believe in.

Those of us growing up in developed westernized nations may find it hard to relate to. We all live in relatively cushy worlds, rebellions, revolts and revolutions dont really exist. Laying down your life for David Cameron or dying for your belief in capitalism is just something that we are not really prepared to do.

Take religion out of this equation and you are left with men and women who are described by some as ‘Freedom Fighters’ and by others as ‘Terrorists’.

Similar words are thrown around, separatist, liberator, revolutionary, vigilante, militant, paramilitary, guerilla, rebel even patriot to name but a few. They all fascinate me because they all have something in common.

The willingness and commitment to die.

The aphorism is all too cliche, ‘One mans terrorist is another mans freedom fighter’.

So as the rebels march forward on Tripoli, the sons of Libya are risking their life for a post- Gaddafi life. A single sniper bullet could end their lives instantly, a tank shell could blow them to pieces any second, but they march on.

Death may scare them, but death is the ultimate sacrifice for ones freedom.

“They may take our lives, but they’ll never take our freeeeedom!!!” - William Wallace.

I have made a list of current conflicts around the world that severely hinder travel on a domestic level around the world. There you will find, men women and children who are believe that today, may just well be, a great day to die.

(Note that I have not added to this list any religious based organization or groups who have been criminally inspired)

Rebels in Libya

Colombia - FARC and the ELN

MEND in Niger Delta of Nigeria

Philippines - New Peoples Army

Northern Ireland - IRA, UVF

Spain - ETA

Peru - Shining Path

Turkey - PKK

Every day the members of these groups wake up, they are prepared to die.

I wonder what today has in stall for them.

London Riots

2011-08-16T07:08:00.001-07:00

"wat u lookin at?" ..... was the response a little old lady got when she inquired about what the local youths on her street were up to.

In a separate incident on the other side of this city, an elderly man was smashed in the face and landed face first on the concrete, instantly sending him into a coma, then the afterlife, after he too, confronted the youth on his life-long neighbourhood street.

London cut loose.

Its loose ends were burning, wildly and dangerously, flapping about in the air like an electrical cord igniting and exploding. There were sparks, there were flames, there were deaths and there were stunned Londoners left wondering what just unfolded on their doorsteps.

I had the unfortunate experience of living close by to the madness that consumed parts of London last week

I was following the mayhem on twitter and watching out the window. It was the first place I instinctively turned to following the revolutions across the 'Arab Spring'.....but sadly, this was no revolution, this was no uprising, this was just disgusting, this was just mindless violence and a spontaneous crime spree.

Now the dust has settled, the windows being repaired, there remain many deep rooted questions that must be addressed.

Its a given that Politicians will slander each other, propose preposterous proposals and sing a tune of righteous and order. But behind the words, cracks remain. Scars that wont heal with a parliamentary inquiry, embers that wont extinguish with empty rhetoric.

London, madness arrived on your own doorstep last week.

The shutters came down and hoodies came up. Worlds collided.

Which begs the question, what kind of world do we live in when elderly ladies get mocked and elderly men get punched in the face on their own doorsteps?

London has stirred. It was ugly. But it was real, we weren't dreaming. It makes me think, that bigger things are on the way. Bigger riots, more feverish anger, greater force, deeper wounds, deeper divisions.

Life is not sustainable at the moment. If you read my last post below, I mentioned the fact that we will need 27 planet earths like this one to sustain the worlds growing population if we plan to survive without killing each other off.

I dont see us pulling 27 earths out of the magic bag anytime soon. I do unfortunately, see a lot of death and destruction on the horizon.

However morbid it sounds, however painful and disturbing it is to ponder on that thought, i think the slap of reality across the face we just experienced in london is a wake up call....

Change is inevitable...

The World as we know it....

2011-08-04T04:10:00.000-07:00

I watched a documentary last night called ‘Man on Earth’ it was simply about that, mans time on earth.

The droopy old dude who was narrating the whole saga wasn’t nearly as exciting as the revealing of Mother Earths resilient and adaptive nature. Mother Nature, Planet Earth, The World, Gaia, Pachamama, Home, ........ whatever you call it, she’s as gentle and humbling as she is tough and unforgiving.

I dunno why I inherently call the planet a She. Maybe it has something to do with a womens resilient spirit, her sensitive nature or simply because of the direct correlation with the ability to reproduce.

The theme olde Tony was reiterating throughout the documentary was simply that. Mother Earth, our Planet, reproduces. She adapts to conditions. She has been around for hundreds of thousands of years.

But the Earth is sensitive to external forces and reacts sharply, not always with such speed, but with a consistent and almost methodical, calculated reaction.

I think this is definitely why I call the planet a She.

Cue the topic ‘climate change’.

Yeah yeah, blah blah, its a two word phrase thrown around more than the the 90‘s classic, ‘ya mumma’.

But it is a fact. Climate change occurred 7000 years ago. The World adapted to the external forces it was forced to endure.

The entirety of Africa was once abundant with natural resources. Awash with such distinguished features such as lakes and rivers, covered from coast to coast with pristine rain forests. That all disappeared due to Mother Earths reaction to atmospheric conditions. Climate change.

Now the north of Africa is peeled back, the lush green fertile surface erased and now there exists nothing but sand, hot dry crusty sand.

From the Atlantic ocean to the Mediterranean sea, fucking hot sand.

Random fact. The Sahara is over 9 million square kilometers of desert. Say what?! Must suck being a camels toe. (Hot sand ;)

Climate change is occurring now. This minute, all around the World. The Planet is reacting and Mother Earth is buckling under the pressure.

Cracks are showing. Literally. Like the ones in the roads of downtown Christchurch, New Zealand.

There are three easily identifiable issues staring down the barrel at Mother Earth.

Population, overconsumption and inefficient resource use.

It is claimed that if humans don’t sort out these issues by 2050, just 40 years from now, then we will need 27 other planets just like this one, to be able to support ourselves. If that is, we continue to use and consume the Worlds natural and non natural resources at the rate we are going and reproduce the way we are reproducing.

Astonishing aye?! The kind of startling fact that makes you not want to bring up kids in this World, for their sake.

There is not doubt, with us ants (humans) affecting the atmospheric conditions of theWorld, the knock on affects every living organism that clings to Mother Earths skin. Ok thats not fair, cows also need to look at the amount of farts they beef out. This has a massive effect on the ozone layer.

Cows fart 4 times more than humans. If that is anywhere near how many my girlfriend can pop out on a good day, thats some serious gas.

So whats the answer?!

Probably not.

I ride a bike everywhere, but thats almost suicidal on a good day in London. Don’t buy Mcdonalds in places like Brazil where cattle are farmed on irreplaceable Amazonian soil. Conserve the precious amounts of finite fresh water we have....turn off unnecessary lights....the list goes on and who am I to blast these ideals down your throat?! Im certainly guilty of simple pleasures, although I did secretly tell myself I was a dirty rotten bastard when munching down a cheeseburger on the streets of Rio de Janeiro.

What I think every human being occupying space on the surface of this Earth can do to affect climate change is quite simple.

Be conscious. Be conscious of how your actions in your everyday life affect others, not just those in immediate vicinity, but those in far away lands also.

Sounds like some sermon delivered to you by new age Buddha Backpacker Boy here, but its not. Nor am I preaching to the choir, singing REMs ‘its the end of the world as we know it...”

Im just welcoming you to our world like Roy Orbison would. This is reality. The world around us is changing.

Our planet is hanging on a thread. Its a delicate world out there. Your world can be turned upside down at any moment.

Better book that ticket to Timbuktu then.....

If you haven’t yet seen this dazzling documentary, filmed over the course of 10 years, shot aerially over 75 different countries, then lock it in. The entire thing is free on youtube, as the famous Yann Arthus - Bertrand did not want to make any royalties or cash from this labour of love.

This he says, is something we all need to see.

World's worst places to backpack #2

2011-07-06T09:33:00.000-07:00

Iraq. One of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements on earth.

A turbulent mash up of ancient civilization and cave men with guns. This is the region once described as the 'craddle of civilization', the birthplace of writing and the wheel, where the hanging gardens of Babelyon lie....

Iraq, its on its knees. Theyre bleeding rivers of blood, too thick for a backpacker to swim through.

After 10 straight years of indiscriminate killings, of rife and ugly secteriran killings, suicide bombings and assassinations.... the people are broken, the country plunged back into the dark ages.

Its certainly a dark enough place at the moment.

Enduring the despotic dictatorship reign of sadistic Saddam must of been tough for the average Iraqi, then comes the gulf war followed by the invasion of the 'coalition of the willing'. In between foreign intervention and tyranny there's the bickering civil wars, the relentless acts of daily violence...where does it end for Iraq? Actually, where and when does it even begin...?!

Iraq has gone past the point of anything that resembles normality. No matter your race, religon or nationality, somone will find an excuse to kill you.

Torture is something you can buy down at the local market. It comes in a multi-pack containing a sack, duct tape and a humungous-sized machette. Hang around the market long enough and you might even catch the rough end of a good olde fashioned 'market blast'

Hostage taking is just what happens.

Heres a list of the known foreign victims, living and perished .... but just remember, for every 1 foreigner kidnapped 12 Iraqis succumb to the same fate.

The only cool thing about Baghdad is the fresh air on the open-roof bus tours. The roof-top rips open when you pull on the cord beneath the seat...

Travel in Iraq is possible.

There does exist a budgetpacker style of travel. But it can be only found in the north of Iraq. Iraq Kurdistan is different.

Thats northern Iraq, a region that is actually considered one of the up and coming destinations in the world, according to the New York Times. The Kurds are known to be very hospitable people and food and lodging is cheap.

There is a saying, every car in Iraq is a taxi. But watch yourself, not every man is a taxi driver.

(A bizarre clip on whats really going on in Iraq.....)

Just last week, a mass grave containing 900 people was unearthed. Nearly every day, the daily headlines murmur something about death and misery in this god forsaken and forgotten land.

Theres plenty of other places in the world that have sun and sand.

Beat it. Iraq aint for kids.

Nor flashpackers, fuck that.

Iraq, #2 worlds worst places to backpack.

World's worst places to backpack #3

2011-07-04T09:09:00.000-07:00

A discombobulated country on the horn of Africa. Affectionally known as 'the land of spices'

Somalia. Its certainly hot and spicy.

A backpacking trip through here would guarantee a bit of a rush. The experience would leave you with the hair permanently standing up on the back of your neck. Or just leave you.....

Its a country when pretty much anything goes. The reality of day-to-day life in Somalia is the stuff hopelessness is made of.

Without a functioning government in this country since 1991, the country has gone through a bit of a turbulent time of late, a bit of a free-for-all.

And by that I dont mean freebies or free-dom in any sense..

The large land mass that was once home to the largest army in Africa during the 80's, has now barely enough soldiers to protect the fragmented capital city of Mogadishu.

Corruption and extortion seem to be the very threads that hold together the fiscal policy of the country.

The entire economy is based upon these two pillars of power abuse.

From the barely audible or rarely visible government to the dare devil rooky pirates, there's plenty of characters in between who are just as shady.

Al-Shabab fighters control the southern and central parts of the country. Proudly charging round on camels sprouting their religious and political ideologies. They even have the odd crack at taking Mogadishu, the country's capital city, also known as the 'city of death'. The transitional government only controls a few square blocks of the capital city. The remainder is controlled by rogue war lords, powerful clans and/or extreme Islamic-inspired militias.

Odds are, you could probably haggle on the price of your hostel room, playing them all off on each other.

'ah come on...willy the warload said he'd do it for a fiver...Al Shabab don't have any mixed dorms available.....and your the government, surely you could offer me a bit more of a 'discount'

Loosely interpreted, the name Al Shabab can mean 'the youth' and as it happens to be, there are no girls in the gang, so they are also known as 'the lads', or at least thats what they call themselves.

Standard sharia law applies in the southern and central regions and 'the lads' are known for their no-nonsense responses, you don't really don't want to be cracking out the skimpy bathers down at the beach.

(This photo of a dead US solider being dragged through the streets was taken by a journalist whose collagues were only days earlier beaten to death for taking photos)

If your volunteerpacking, be very wary of the stats stacked up against you, in the past two years, 42 relief workers have been merked. Goneski.

Paul and Rachel Chandler, a couple of greypackers traveling around the world got mixed up in the madness, to say the least. The couple now hold the accolades for the longest held captives by Somali pirates, a cushy 400 days at the hands of these ruthless thugs and criminals of the high seas.

They were released a couple of months ago. Needless to say, don't think they'll be going back anytime soon.

So basically, any form of independent backpacking adventure would basically classify as suicidal. The only way you can even think about moving about is with armoured guards, private security or Ethiopian or official Somali troops. It is likely no matter which one of these options you choose, you will engage in some form of street battle.

Pack a bullet proof vest. And your hanky. There might be tears.

Worlds worst place to backpack #4

2011-06-15T11:10:00.000-07:00

Its certainly not on the top of the list for tourism destinations. In fact, its almost at the bottom of my list. Coming in at number 4 of the worlds worst places to backpack is Chechnya.

Chechnya is a federal republic within the borders of Russia. It has its own president, parliment and consitution. Its ongoing conflict with Russia since the break up of the Soviet Union in 1991 has been the bane of its existence.

There has been pretty much an ongoing war since its inception onto the global stage in 91.

Human Rights Watch rencently issued these comments....
"If you are detained in Chechnya, you face a real and immediate risk of torture. And there is little chance that your torturer will be held accountable,"

You'll want to watch your antics in the bedroom whilst traveling in Chechnya. If your caught in the act of, or even accused of sex in the bum, your better hoist your pants up and run for the hills.

Article 148 of the Criminal Law Act punishes "anal sexual intercourse between a man and a woman or a man and a man" by caning and then if your caught again, death. Death comes in the form of stoning for women or beheadings for men. Tough love.

Chechnya is famous for its traditional knives and daggers. This is probably the first thing youll need to buy upon entering the country. English is spoken by pretty much no one so good luck there.

Flashpackers may be slightly enthused to know that you can enter by plane 3 times a week from Russia. For the slackpacker there exists a weekly train route but its prone to hijackings and bombs. But forget it. Seriously. The regions of Dagestan/ Chechnya / Ingushetia are notorious for kidnap risk. One of the highest rates in the world. If you dodge that, you have to deal with the worst of the worst in corrupt cops, i dont think even the Dalai Lamas patience and supply of $100US notes would hold up. The 'officials' tip off the local gangs who then either rip you off again, or simply kidnap you and eventually rip you off for more, or blatantly knock you off. Mass graves are like recreational parks in Chechnya.

(Local Kindergarten..)

Partypackers wont be so enthused to know that there is not a single disco or club in Chechnya. Its not a dry country per se but dont try and look like your having fun.

(Leave the kids at home..)

There is only one hotel to stay, a random 5 star bang smack in the middle of war torn Grozny. Its most famous guest of all time was Mike Tyson. Ha, aint nobody gonna mess with Mike. The Hotel Arena actually steamed in with a classy review on Trip Advisor, check it out...

http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Hotel_Review-g494957-d1895749-Reviews-Hotel_Arena_City-Grozny_Chechnya_South_Russia.html

If somehow your still convinced on traveling to Chechnya, watch this famous Russian film, called Voyna, literally translates as 'War'. Funny enough the capital City Grozny translates as 'terrible'.

Worlds worst place to backpack #5

2011-06-06T20:19:00.000-07:00

Pakistan - Hitting the headlines for all the wrong reasons.

The numero uno wanted hombre in the world was recently taken out underneath the noses of the regime. A lot of questions remain in the dust and dried up blood. The dilemma backpackers face is simple.

Is this a safe country to travel or is this a safe haven for extremism?

Pakistan is situated in a very volatile region of the planet. Its bordered by Iran, Afganistan, China & India. Pretty much screwed on all sides in terms of niggly little armed conflicts and geo-politik tug-o-war.

Its safe to say that Pakistans long and windy roads are no longer the same as the famous backpacker trails of the Silk Road.

Those days are gone. Long gone are the free wandering hippies, goneski the tourism infrastructure, however loose it was back then, its looser now. The only thing left that remains from the free floating 1960s are the drugs.

Pakistans current tourism campaigns seem to be directed at all the wrong people. Theres no Flashpacker accommodation anywhere in Islamabad. Theres no party scene for those Partypackers in Karachi.

Slippery Osama had evaded the most intelligent intelligence in the world. He was a mythical figure, a mystery man, a man who was supposed to be hiding out in a cave. But nah, he was kicking it Pakistan. Living the dream with the million dollar pad, couple of attentive ladies, watching dvds with popcorn on the couch. Sounds like your average hungover day in an inner city hostel?!?

Casa de Osama

Dont get carried away. Anti US and Johnny Foreigner sentiment is running at fever pitch. Coupled with the constant onslaught of Drone attacks in the countryside, its not such an inviting place at this time.

The only fun thing youll find in Pakistan at the moment is a game of cricket in the street. It could turn ugly real quick though. And never, ever high five anyone.....

Stay cool, stay clear of Pakistan.

Freedom Camping & Backpacking

2011-05-31T22:18:00.000-07:00

It boils down to respect.

Respect for mother nature and the environment and respect for New Zealand and the people who live there.

If you decide to take a pee, or worse, rustle up a number 2, just outside your campervan or behind your tent, you may think nothing of it. I mean, it will wash away with the rain, perhaps even bio-degrade or melt away. Its human waste, surely it will erode into the organic waste that makes up your surroundings....

Well sadly no. Think about the collective actions of the next 63 people who camp in that exact spot over the next 2 weeks. If they all emptied their bowels into the same spot there would exist a pile of human feces or a small river of yellow pee enough to fill a couple of buckets. Empty those buckets into the soil, which leads to the river. Game over clean water.

The Department of Conservation do a great job in supplying long drop toilet facilities and even running water. All for a measly $6NZ. To blatantly ignore the good work that goes into allowing the tens of thousands of campers who visit the same areas we all do, would be a slap in the face for yourself.

One of the key things you quickly learn when out on the road traveling, is that you rely on the local environment and local people to keep it the way it is. Perhaps 10,000 people will stand in the very spot you happened to stand in and take that beautiful photo you have on your desktop. Before you drop that candy wrapper from your pocket, or take a quick pee besides those bushes, imagine for a second if even half of those 10,000 travelers who will visit that exact spot, did the same. It wouldnt be the same. The flies buzzing around that mould of human poo behind the rock would get in the photo. It wouldnt be the same for your friend who visited the year after you.

Its a messy one. The dropping of number 1’s and 2’s has become a national problem.

But there is a simple philosophy being mooted at the moment throughout the country. It seems to be one of the most logical steps towards making freedom camping work. The notion is that every campervan should have a toilet that captures waste that can be emptied at designated spots all over NZ roads.

New Zealand Tourism Website www.camping.org.nz

Its feasible. If you dont posses the means to take your pee pee and poo poo with you, then you cant camp wherever you want.

If you do, then camp where you want and enjoy one of the great aspects of traveling in New Zealand. The freedom to camp.
A clean camper is a good camper.
Camp New Zealands’ way, not your way.

Travel with a collective conscience and enjoy the freedom of camping.

---------------------------------------

This story is funny, well kinda....

http://www.stuff.co.nz/nelson-mail/4519468/Couple-left-to-cower-during-machete-attack

Worlds worst place to backpack #6

2011-05-24T01:41:00.000-07:00

Syria - Whats with the freaky dude and all his posters?

Does this mans face scare you?!

He scares me. Everytime he flashes before my eyes, I see an evil man, a man with a nasty side. His power certain displays a nasty side. His loyal and well paid military and security forces have beaten, killed and tortured the Syrians every single time they have tried to voice their opinions publicly.

Its atrocious whats going on. It reminds me of an olde quote of Noam Chomskys, the acts of state terrorism are far worse than acts of individual terrorism.

This man is a terrorist in all sense of the word. Over 11,000 people have gone missing or are simply dead. Bells must be rung, sirens must go off. The alarm is beeping and the world pressed snooze.

Syria is a country where 22 million people live....the country has been living under a military republic since 1963. I thought those days past with the 50's and 60's but seems not.

Life is tough under the regime. Take your own laptop flashpackers as every comment anyone posts in any type of forum in a public internet domain, is recorded and viewed by authorities. Sounds like a very scared authority. One afraid of the implications social media and the internet in general can have upon a society.

Travel is restricted and watched under a close eye. Jimmy Foreigner has personal assistants, although sometimes Jimmy doesnt know about them.

Your average Syrian is lovely. Nice people with moderate standards of living in relative terms. Billy the backpacker would love wandering the old city of Damascus, the Roman ruins of Apamea and the layrinith mystery of Aleppo.

Unfortunately the people of Syria no longer use facebook. The authorities have out smarted them and are one step in front. People dont even use cell phones to send messages. Happy to say however, for those backpackers that do venture, Skype does work and is widely used as a safe channel of communication.

So Syria, with its daunting security presence and its dominating heavy handed authorities comes in at #6 on the worlds worst places to backpack.

Dont stop asking questions where those 11,000 people went......

Pack it or stack it?!

2011-04-21T15:41:00.000-07:00

What to pack, what not to pack, that is the question!!

http://www.stuff.co.nz/travel/4916289/The-secret-of-travelling-light

Worlds worst place to backpack #7 ..... continued....

2011-03-27T02:10:00.000-07:00

Following on from my list of the worlds worst places to backpack, I had ranked Libya as #7. It now seems like that was a gross under estimation.

This video speaks for itself.

Mother Nature not happy

2011-03-11T06:08:00.000-08:00

Mother Nature is rumbling....

earthquakes - check
hurricanes - check
droughts - check
floods - check
global warming - check
volcanic eruptions - check
tsunamis - check

Haiti, Chile, New Zealand, Japan.....the earth's tectonic plates have been jostling for position beneath the surface of the ground we walk upon. Tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanos, floods, droughts, cyclones and storms, this world, our world, is volatile at the moment.

As volatile as it is, it is also fragile. Breaking apart, breaking open, crumbling and deteriorating before our very eyes, under our very feet.

Im from New Zealand. Its a small country. Everyone was effected someway or another by the recent earthquake. 200 dead for a small country is significant. Haiti lost hundreds of thousands and now Japan, the latest findings only hours after the quake struck is that police have found a couple of hundred of bodies on a beach. The worst is obviously yet to come when examining the death toll.

What is one to make from all this? This momentum of natural disasters. I can't help but think of the Mayan prophecy surrounding the year 2012. Next year its all meant to come to a head. The details of what was forecasted to happen on this date in the earths calendar was never recorded, only that it would signify a dramatic event or turn in the earths calendar. Reading between the lines leaves me with an empty feeling considering the Mayans were and still are one of the most respectable and intelligent races to ever grace this planet.

In the build up to this year of 2012 predictions were made that 'waves' of natural disasters would take place, presumably leading to a larger, more profound event.

Is this it?! These succession of events just a prelude of what is to come...?! Pachamama is pissed off. Mother Nature is hurting. She has awoken and she will have the last say as us humans continue to rape and pillage her soul.

This video is interesting, the guys voice is classic at the start, but hang in there..

Beware, 2011 is going to be a rocky one. If you were thinking of traveling, do it. Next year you may not be able to travel to many parts of the world, hell, even this year, a lot of the earth may not be so attractive for a backpacking destination. So dont procrastinate anymore, dont delay any of those backpacking dreams you harbour. Seize the day and get amongst as 2012 is going to be .........

Its Fair Trade Fortnight!!!

2011-03-05T04:29:00.000-08:00

Fair trade travel. I urge you all to think about it for a moment.

Your travels are intertwined with trading with locals no matter where you are. Buying a deep fried papa rellena down the side streets of Bogota, your vegetables from mama down at the local market in Luang Prabang or your fridge magnet you bought for your granny in Rome.

Your trading with locals. Haggling, bargaining, purchasing, buying, swapping, cashing in, cashing up. The locals feel the brunt of your actions. Their livelihoods depend on where and how you spend your money. Think about it...

But does it stop there. Your purchasing power stretches further. In an ever increasingly globalised world we buy goods that have an adverse effect on someone 10,000 miles away. Think about it.....

Your down at your local Tesco......swimming through the aisles blindly, hunting for those bargain stickers, 2 for 1, half price, whatever floats your boat at that particular moment usually gets waxed into your trolley. But do you stop and think about it?! You check the label, those blueberries you bought, have come half way round the world to land on your table. An Argentinean farmer feels the impact of your spontaneous purchasing decision. The locals in the banana plantations in Ghana feel the heat of your purchasing power.

Trade is so seamlessly intertwined into our every day lives we often forget the repercussions of it all. They sell, we buy. End of. Nope, not really. Think about it.

I urge everyone to think about trade and travel. It can make or break people. Your purchasing power is mightier than you think.

Have a positive effect on peoples lives. Think before you buy....

Libya - worlds worst place to backpack #7

2011-02-21T16:40:00.000-08:00

Libya. Gaddafis playground.

The country that lies inbetween Tunisia and Egypt was bound to feel the heat at some stage. Fever and fear grip this nation, this destination is probably one of the worlds worst places to backpack right now.

Libya is a big country. 40 times larger than Denmark yet only has a population of 6 million. Large swaths of the country are covered by the mighty Sahara desert, almost 90%.

The ruling leader, Muammar Gaddafi, is famous for his Bedouin tent. He takes it whereever he goes. Even pitches it up at the UN headquarters in New York until lately when he was been banned. This sparkled a strange response from the big man, after he refused a Russian plane to land, where it was due to pick up some nuclear waste uranium to despose of in regulation with a UN ruling. The crates of weapon grade unranium were left out in the sun on the runway, guarded by only one solider, where they almost spilled out of their containment due to the temperatures at which they were left. The effects would of been Chernobyl style proportions.

Gaddafi is up there with the worst of the present day Arab ruling dictators. After Saddam Hussein and Tunisia's Ben Ali, Gaddafi has earned his stripes of terror infliction, abuse of power and ravage display of corruption. He also exposes a reflection of some Western governments hipocrisy. A closed and isolated country in many respects up until the past 10 years when oil reserves have been tapped and international business has started to flow and in some instances, gush.

Its now a precarious situation. A delicate power vacum potentially could follow Gaddafi if he vacates as there is no such thing as organised opposition to his regime. A 40 year gap.

Gaddafi came to power riding the usual wave of reform and aspiring political ideals.

His socialist flag was soon lowered from the mast, abandoned as power corrupted the libertating hero rising from the ashes of a 1969 coup. You have to understand the geopolitcs of the era to put this episode into context. Revolutions and coups were taking place worldwide, a lot of them based on the model of socialism and to a more extreme extent, communision. Fidel Castro had liberated Cuba from a dictatorship, (to effectively turn it into another), .... Che Guerva had helped and was attempting to do so in Bolivia and even the Congo. The legend Omar Torrijos had overthrown the Panamanian government. From Peru and Brazil to Sudan and Somalia, 1969 was a torrid time for regime changes on a global scale.

The man has deluded himself with power over 41 long years.

He is Africa's longest serving ruler. During his reign he has desposed of those close to him, getting rid of those that assisted him in his original coup, public hangings of 'counter revolutionaries' or people who thought differently from him.
Although he has some mates....

The green passport of LIbya is always in that last list of least desirable nationalities on most immigration forms.

What has spurred these recent developments across the middle east? The uprisings In Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, Dijdouti, Morocco, Sudan and Bahrain? Its no secret that a lack of faith in the ruling powers is one of the reasons, but the real reasons are deeper. People are fed up of decades of blatant corruption, decades of human right violations, state controlled media, the margalisation of the youth and the disregard for the elderly have all played a part in these revoltuions unfolding around the world.

Its serious here. So far over 500 people have been merked by the security forces loyal to Gaddafi.

Security forces are generally well paid in Libya, quite crazy to think that some of the most well paid people in society are those that weld authority and can abuse it the easiest. Although reports are emerging that some defections from the military were occuring nationwide, after officers and entire battalions have refused direct orders to fire on protestors. 2 fighter jets have even landed in Malta after the pilots refused orders to fire on protestors. They are now claiming political aslyum.

This is a very hostile environment to be anywhere near. But....

(budgetpacker accomodation)

The Mediterranean is lush with life. Fruitful and green, its abudent with beautiful beaches, swaying palm trees and turquoise warm waters. What more can you ask for for a beachpacking experience? Tripoli is a culturally rich city on the edges of the Mediterranean. The red castle is a glimpse into life in during the Ottoman empire, Medina, the famous market that dates back to the fourth century. Its cheap, its cheerful, its warm, its not crowded. Its a budgetpackers ideal destination. Why wouldn't you consider Libya as your next backpacking destination?!

Gadafis regime has closed the doors on most of the world during the last 40 years, only in the last 10 years has tourism had a chance to really breath. Theres a reason for this. The ruling regime generally despise the west and its culture. Just take a look at the responses dribbling out from the regime at the moment, blaming the EU, Britain, the US and even Canada of all nations, I mean no one has blamed Canada for anything since South Park.

Dont go backpacking in Libya right now. Helicopters are raining down bullets upon the streets, fighter jets are launching strikes on crowds of people gathered below their telescopic lenses, snipers are picking off protestors from elevated government controlled buildings. The regime has proven in the past, that brutality and terror are the methods to deal with problems. Extermination of this dissent has been broadcast on state run tv by the presidents son. Quote, "we will keep fighting until the last man standing...even the last women"...... He then said that if agreement is not reached immediately then "rivers of blood will flow..."
Sounds ominous.
Make no doubt about it, this uprising is set to be the bloodiest.
Dont get involved.
Grab your backpack and go bush in Botswana instead.

Egypt....Worlds worst place to backpack #8

2011-02-11T10:10:00.000-08:00

Egypt - Where it all began.

That's the countries tourism slogan. Maybe they should change it to, Egypt - Where it all went wrong.

Every embassy in the world has told its residents to leave. There are hundreds of thousands of pissed off people taking to the streets all over the country. Forget your city break in Cairo. There are thugs on horseback and hooligans on bleeting camels storming down the cities streets. The camels won't be the only ones spitting on you. Expect a barrage and confrontation involving most people you run into. Everyone is involved in this uprising, the fever has spread.

But is it all bad? A revolution is a collective wave of like minded values, a sea of souls gathered together in unity of a common fight. Luckily the fight is directed at the ruling president of 30 years, President Mumbuark, and not foreigners. If you love throwing stones at authority and screaming chants in a foreign language, this could be on your list of the worlds best place to backpack.

Petrol bombs and tear gas, water cannons and rubber bullets, rocks and concrete slabs flying through the air, it makes for some great photos but the real threat of being struck down by a live round of ammunition is high. Authorities say 11 people have been killed so far, the UN put that figure at close to 300 people in just over a week.

Watch this clip on youtube to see a man shot at close range by the army.

The president is said to be worth $70 billion………thats not just a couple of lazy million lying around a Swiss bank account, thats 70 billion of amassed wealth. No wonder the people are taking to the streets and are really pissed at the high levels of poverty in day to day life.

Visiting the pyramids could take you awhile as most of the tour guides are on the streets. Hotel doors in central Cairo are boarded up and taxis have pretty much ground to a halt, as the streets are too chaotic to drive through.

The media has been all but shut down over the past week, forget trying to log onto your Facebook page as the only tweeting you'll be doing is from a rooftop at the moon. Funnily enough, the revolt in Iran last year took place from the rooftops of its buildings so anything is possible.

Freedom of speech is a pillar of independence, strength and independence in any democratic nation. For 30 years in Egypt the voices of its people have been suppressed and the lid has been finally lifted. Its boiled over. The resulting steam is thick with rage and is flowing throughout the streets of the nations major cities.

So no Facebook, no twitter, no youtube. Its not the first time we have witnessed social media trying to bring about social justice. But the regime saw this wave of action coming, and nipped it in the butt by pulling the cords to the major social network players. Al Jazeera the Middle East-based news agency was also pulled off air. Says a lot about the regime that the people want ousted. Would you really like to travel here right now? I mean lets face it, tourism is a massive industry in Egypt. It has some sensational beaches and of course the magical desert is soaked in history.

So maybe this is the place to go right now? Flights are cheap. Although the airports may be unmanned so it could be a rocky landing and even shadier reception. But hey, this is living no?! Walzing into hotspots with your backpack on…….Uhm, no its not. Its just stupid. Its hostile there right now, theres anger and violence on its streets. The infrastructure needed for a seamless backpacking trip is simply not functioning right now. Above all, a backpacking trip to Egypt would be just foolish and maybe even ignorant.

Protests like these change the world. From Berlin to Bolivia, when people take to the streets, they mean business. It is their last resort of action. It often means violence is imminent, whether its the venting of the peoples frustrations or from the nervousness of the regimes forces.

I have been involved in street protests when they turn ugly. Its definitely not pretty. Trying to get that last camera shot, or just out there to soak up the magnitude and power of the people en masse, in a blink of an eye the situation can flip. Bullets fly, people turn and flee in every direction, its panic x 10,000volts, frantic pushing and shoving, tear gas burning your eyes until your stomach retches upon itself, ripping up the lining of your oesophagus.

I remember witnessing a man getting beaten only metres away from me. As we both fled the onslaught of the charging army, he had slipped as we ran rounded a street corner onto another small side street. I didn't dare stop but as I looked behind me he was being beaten with clubs by several soliders. I will never forget that image of him curled up on his back with his hands and feet raised, trying to cushion the storm of blows reigning down upon him.

Egypt. Nah. Not now.

Thanks to President Mubrack, Egypt has made its way onto the list of the worlds worst places to backpack #8

Eritrea - Worlds worst place to backpack #9

2011-01-12T12:39:00.000-08:00

Eritrea - Africa's youngest country

The country hugs the north east coast of the African continent with the Red Sea combing its entire length and one of the worlds longest mountain ranges dissects the country in half.

Dry desert scatters the coastline where archipelagos lie out in the Red Sea and highlands rise up to 3000m. Although it looks small on the map, small for African country standards, its actually just as big as England.

Unfortunately this beautiful area is also one of the most volatile regions in Africa.

Eritrea is officially one of the worlds worst police states. The president is constantly ranked in the top 10 worst dictators of our time.
The government control everything and will certainly know about your presence in the country if you dare to set foot. You need a tourist visa from one of the few embassies scattered around the world, you cant just expect to turn up on one of its borders. Speaking of, the border with Ethiopia and Djibouti are closed indefinitely meaning you have to enter via Sudan, which is in the middle of a country being spit in two.

Visa restrictions mean you have to inform the time and date of your arrival at the exact overland border post, this means your plans have to be quite stringent, and traveling through Sudan at the moment, a country on the brink of war, things may not go exactly to plan.

Expect bureaucracy at the borders to take you hours, its impossible to cross after dusk so dont get the late bus from Sudan or you could be sleeping rough in a sketchy African border town.

Can you believe that Eritreans actually need a visa to leave the country!?! They rarely get granted one. Every movement within the country feels like you are being watched. Travellers describe it as eery and constantly lurking uncertainty.

'Postcard from Eritrea'

According to the BBC, "Eritrea is the only African country to have no privately-owned news media." Ranked worse than North Korea for the tightness of its media control by the internationally acclaimed Freedom of Press Index. Could be quite difficult to find a flashpacker hostel with free wifi?

In fact, there are plenty of hotels in Eritrea. Hotel suites with cliche 1970s decor go for around $30US. You wont find the best deals on hostelworld or hostelbookers, you have to go straight to the source, the hotels website.
The Lion Hotel looks like your best deal with its outside areas and its 'internet service room'
http://www.asmera.nl/lion/index.html

No elections have ever been held here, yet the ruling government, and the only party allowed to run is ironically named the The People Front for Democracy and Justice. Go figure....

'Check out this rare yet very bizarre interview with the looney president, he is so arrogant, defensive and calls the journalist insane'

The UN see Eritrea as a destablising state in the Horn of Africa. Across the Red Sea lies Yemen, another 'destablising' state. The government who rule with an iron fist. They use their security forces to commit gross violations of human rights throughout the country. They have been accused of arming militas in Somalia and other insurgent groups in the region. Systematic beatings and arbitrary arrests are the norm for people who try and exercise their universal lawful rights such as speaking out on religion, gathering in groups in public and god forbid you get accused of taking the piss out of the president.....woooo weeee you gonna get a slashing son!!

Nah, its not funny, people die. Not cool.

So with some serious military buildup in neighbouring Sudan to the west, a country on the brink of civil war, to the south remnants of the 30 year war with Ethiopia still linger and no entry nor exit through Djibouti either, chances of your travel plans being ruined are pretty high.

Dont mess with one of Africa's most secretive regimes....it's Eritrea, worlds worst place to backpack #9

Congo - Worlds worst place to backpack # 10

2011-01-09T08:50:00.000-08:00

bongo bongo its the dirty olde democratic republic of congo (DRC)

well, its not that dirty, its actually known the world over for its vast quantities of natural resources. gold, copper, silver, timber, tin you name it, its probably in the congo. no guesses, that this is a country rich in minerals and blessed with mother natures sparkle.
on closer inspection, its rotting from the inside out. its a decaying mess.

formely known as zaire back in the day, this central african country is often confused with its neighbouring country, congo.

they are quite different. there is the democratic republic of congo....

and then the congo...

for one of the worlds richest nations, in terms of its wealth of untapped natural resources,(estimated at $24trillion) the congolese people are amongst the poorest in the world. the average wage is 300 per yr, thats under $1 a day for the majority of the 71 million people who call it home.
now seriously, i know the $1 a day call is hard to imagine, but come on, under a $1 a day, and the majority of the country? get real democratic republic of congo. the so called leaders of this country deserve to be pegged to a stake and left to lie under the congolese sun, then have the vultures have their wicked way with them. beak hook to the left eye ball. howwzzzaaat?

the internal conflict has dragged in neighbouring countries rwanda and uganda. perhaps the most famous are the LRA, Lords resistance Army. the notorious child solider renegade movement. 90% of the children arent there by choice, but that doesnt seem to deter them from snatching new recruits.
there are some great books and even movies on the LRA from children who have escaped and lived to tell the atrocities that were forced to commit. the documentary below is definitely worth a watch, the story is compelling and revealing of the honest truths, shame about the 3 annoying guys that made it. good job, but they just annoyed me.

Joseph Kony, the hunted leader of the elusive LRA is a sicko, a lunatic, an evil person. just watch this interview with him to gauge his mental well being.

who can forget the infamous joseph mobutu, installed by a CIA coup. he was about as good as it gets as a kleptocrat.

in 1998, the second congo war broke out, a war that is often referred to as Africa's world war. it is the worlds most deadliest conflict since world war II. 5 and 1/2 million people killed. staggering. yet most people are unaware of its brutality let only scale.

rape and sexual violence are described by the UN as the worst in the world. the way in which this weapon of war is used is exasperating. women are raped in what could only be described as a public stage, gang raped in front of their families and other villagers, so as to gain the maximum effect possible.
if this is not reason enough for single women travelers to stay away then i dont know what is.
and dont think the army will intervene to help you, they are some of the most aggressive perpetrators. just when you thought help was on the way, you hear that ceremonious chorus of a battalion of zips being unzipped.

when the genocide in Rwanda took place in 94, the hutu militias who carried out the atrocities fled into neighbouring DRC. this gave rise to a renegade band of tutsi fighters who claimed to protect the tutsi poplulation from the still raging hutu death squads.

the reality is, no side is innocent of atrocities. so theres a real chance as a backpacker traversing through this naturally abundant paradise, you may stumble upon some sickos who want to touch you up in front of their mates. not such a cool outcome. avoiding the democratic republic of congo is probably better for your physical and mental health.

before you pack up your backpack and head deep into the democratic republic of congo id advise you think twice about how you value your life.
check out this recent doco on events that have been unfolding....

Congo, the worlds worst place to backpack #10

World's worst places to backpack #11

2010-12-16T06:30:00.000-08:00

Zimbabwe - House of Stone

Its that nagging moral dilemma that lingers in the minds of potential travellers. If i enter this country am i effectively endorsing the current ruling body, whether that be a shady 'elected' government or a straight out military dictatorship. Am i acknowledging them as a legitimate force? In same way or form, respecting them? The very thought disgusts some travellers. leaves them with a taste of distain in their mouths. So they dont go. Simple.

Other travellers on the flip side may cast these thoughts and reasonings aside and for all god intentions, enter the country believing that their actions will have more or less positive ripple effect on the country and is people. Fair enough. If your a conscious traveller and make attempts to circulate and distribute your money amongst communities and individuals then your intentions for entering that country deserved to be labelled moral in someway.

So there you have it, a traveling moral dilemma. Zimbabwe, where the majority of the nations people have seen living standards drop and where Robert Mugabe resides and rules.

For a start, to travel anywhere is going to require two backpacks or perhaps 3 smaller flashpacks. Due to the worlds highest hyperinflation figures, carrying cash around is going to be awkward. Lets face it, they issued a 100 trillion dollar note. Looooose.

Guys shouldn't hang around too long, Zim has one of the lowest life expectancy rankings in the world, just a mere 44 for males. Not that you'd want to hang around long. Ok theres Victoria Falls, one of the most fascinating waterfalls in the world.

The Zambezi river of course, a major drawcard, famous for its wild roar. A favourite for any rafting enthusiasit out there. One of the more crazier rivers in the world to raft, unfortunately the majority of the best part lies in neighbouring Zambia.

"Been there, done that, got the t-shirt"

And of course, theres the animals.

This is a stunning country, the topography is classic southern africa. A landlocked nation that borders along two of Africa's famous rivers, the bamboozling Zambezi and the limpid and long Limpopo. But it suffers. Zimbabwe suffers from internal bleeding.

The large swaths of rainforest have virtually disappeared. The rule of law is toyed with like a cat and a half dead mouse. Human rights abuses are as commonplace as the bouts of cholera that break out. The government have drained the coffers of the nations wealth and in the process, abused natural resources and abused the human resources, the Zimbabwean people.

The countries recent history is turbulent. I visited when Mugabe first initated the land reform program. It was loco. Quite tense, almost sent the country back into civil war. Its poo control and lack of vision over the entire process has effectively crippled the economy. Perhaps the aims of fairer land distribution were fair, viewed in an objective manner, but the way about which the government and its bands of war vetrans went about it have been the epicentre of conflict ever since Mugabe and the Rhodesian Bush war.

Mugabe has sort to punish and blame the colinizers for most of his countries problems. By no means was Rhodesia a saint of a country, nor its colonial rulers, but Mugabes 30 year rule begs a lot of questions.

So after weighing up the pros and cons of traveling in Zimbabwe it has made it on my list of worlds worst places to backpack at #11.

World's worst places to backpack #12

2010-12-01T03:58:00.000-08:00

Haiti - the pearl of the Caribbean...

Its one large island, split down the middle. On one side - the tropical tourism hot spot of Dominican Republic. With its white sandy beaches ....

On the other side of the island, theres Haiti, where the waterfront looks more like this...

Haiti was once one of France's richest colonies. Now its a decaying mess of corrupt politicians, depleted national resources and a population with a broken spirit.

It is the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere.
It has been raped, pillaged and left out for the vultures to pick at whatever is left.

Decades of poverty, environmental degradation, coups, violence, dictatorships and instability have left this country hanging in the midst of hell and the hands of multinational interests.

First there was the mother of all earthquakes....

Then the cholera....

The bright sunshine of the Caribbean somehow doesn't shine down on poor old Haiti. Its dark, disease ridden and death is constantly knocking on the door.

Its a failed state. Perhaps Wlcef Jean could of got it back on tracks, however the stiff ling bureaucracy and corrupt politicians didnt want that happening and as a result he was barred from standing for presidential election.

Make no doubt about it, times are tough.

If your into looting, diseases, roadblocks by illegal armed gangs, kidnapping, car-jackings and the odd natural disaster then Haiti comes recommended.

Worlds worst place to backpack # 13

2010-11-19T03:33:00.000-08:00

Myanmar - the golden land...

Burma or Myanmar call it what you will, it's home to one of the worlds most repressive and abusive regimes. Many countries don't recognise the regime that changed the name of the country from Burma to Myanmar but at the end of the day, we all know where we are talking about.

Mountain chains link their way up across the country, which is surprising quite a large land mass, the second largest country in South East Asia.

Some of its valleys are laden with rare gems and exquisite rocks and emeralds. 90% of the worlds rubies actually come from Burma. But you wont get your hands on one. A large proportion of the country is off limits to foreigners. Your movements are generally watched with suspicion, so remember to put the seat back down on the toilet.

Officially known as The Republic Union of Myanmar, the country is a text book example of a police state. You can interact with the locals but they don't usually like to be seen mixing it up merrily with foreigners. It usually means them being dragged behind a wall after you move off.

So basically if you keep your mouth shut your entire journey, chances of you or one of the locals not getting hurt are considerably higher.

If you didn't read between the lines, Freedom of speech is more or less crushed. So if your taxi price is a fixed one. Don't haggle.

During world war 2, Burma was used and abused, sacked and abandoned. famous for all the wrong reasons, over 300,000 Burmese fled the destructing country to the jungles and mountains to India, just under 10% of them made it. Great books have been written about ‘The Trek’, I vividly recall the amazing story told by Colin McPhedran in the book White Butterflies..., I highly recommend the read, it was one of the worst but least documented refugee tragedies of World War II.

The man who architect ed Burmas independence from the British and gave Burma a glimpse of a new future was the father of Aung San Suu Kyi......, Aung San. He got assassinated and things have been pretty grim ever since.

Although its independent, by no means is it a free country. since the coup of ’62, Burma has clenched up its butt cheeks and remained tight lipped. The analogy between arseholes and military rule is no mistake.

Unfortunately they call the shots. The “junta’ will control your travels. Not only do you need a visa but you need permits and government appointed guides to visit a lot of other places. There is a civil war taking place, ethnic minorities who have been persecuted over the years have given birth to various insurgent groups.

No slogging off the 'Military Junta' or disrespect anyone in uniform, or you might find yourself holed up in one of the many jails that are populated throughout the country. The sounds that reportedly come out of those prisons make the 'rustling of a plastic shopping bag at 4am in a packed hostel dormitory' sound like a piece of musical harmony.

The military is notorious for its rampant use of sexual violence as a means of control. So do what your told or you might get uhmm .............. hurt.

Last week, the jammy 'Junta' released Aung San Suu Kyi, she was under house arrest from roughly 1989 until last week. This is what happens if you speak too loudly in Burma.

Burma forms part of the golden triangle of opium production. Conflicting reports as to who enjoys it but there is no surprising who controls it.

There has always been a moral dilemma for travelers heading for Burma. Aung San Suu Kyi pleads with people not to support the ruling government and therefore not travel to Burma. A lot of western governments support her stance.

But on the flip side, some locals do benefit from your presence, that's if you eat at local restaurants and guesthouses.

Its not the Burmese people that will make your stay an unpleasant one, quite the opposite, backpackers who do venture here rave about the Burmese people, the landscapes and the culture.

Make no doubt about it, its the military/police/government/w@nkers that make this the worlds worst place to backpack # 13.

World's worst places to backpack #13

2010-11-14T05:43:00.000-08:00

World's worst places to backpack #3

2010-11-14T03:10:00.000-08:00

A discombobulated country on the horn of Africa. Affectionally known as 'the land of spices'

Somalia. Its certainly hot and spicy.

A backpacking trip through here would guarantee a bit of a rush. The experience would leave you with the hair permanently standing up on the back of your neck. Or just leave you.....

Its a country when pretty much anything goes. The reality of day to day life in Somalia is the stuff hopelessness is made of.

Without a functioning government in this country since 1991, the country has gone through a bit of a turbulent time of late, a bit of a free-for-all. And by that I dont mean freebies or free-dom in any sense.. The large land mass that was once home to the largest army in Africa during the 80's, has now barely enough soldiers to protect the fragmented capital city of Mogadishu.

Corruption and extortion seem to be the very threads that hold together the fiscal policy of the country, the entire economy is based upon these two pillars of power abuse.

From the barely audible or rarely visible government to the dare devil rooky pirates, there's plenty of characters in between who are just as shady.

Al-Shabab fighters control the southern and central parts of the country. Proudly charging round on camels sprouting their religious and political ideologies, they even have the odd crack at taking Mogadishu, the country's capital city, also known as the 'city of death'. The transitional government only controls a few square blocks of the capital city. The rest is controlled by rogue war lords, powerful clans and/or extreme Islamic inspired militias.

Fair to say, you could probably haggle on the price of your hostel room, playing them all off on each other.

'ah come on...willy the warload said he'd do it for a fiver...Al Shabab don't have any mixed dorms available.....and your the government, surely you could offer me a bit more of a 'discount' ..."

Loosely interpreted, the name Al Shabab can mean 'the youth' and as it happens to be there are no girls in the gang, so they are also known as 'the lads', or at least thats what they call themselves.

This photo of a dead US solider being dragged through the streets was taken by a journalist whose collagues were only days earlier beaten to death for taking photos.

If your volunteerpacking, be very wary of the stats stacked up against you, in the past two years, 42 relief workers have been merked. gone.

They were released a couple of months ago. Needless to say, don't think they'll be going back anytime soon.

Pack a bullet proof vest. And your hanky. There might be tears.

Bon Voyage!!!

World's worst places to backpack #14

2010-10-31T03:38:00.000-07:00

Nigeria - land of milk and honey....

The most populous country in Africa, with one of the fastest growing economies in the world.

With tropical rainforest in the south, rugged highlands and valleys to the south west, a coastline dominated by the famous Niger Delta and the massive desserts of the mighty Sahara encroaching on the northern borders it shares with countries such as Chad and Niger. This sounds like an Ecopackers traveling oasis.

Amid the lakes and forests, savannahs and plateaus lie one of the worlds largest river deltas, the worlds largest diversity of butterflies and an abundence of that stuff called 'black gold'.

Sadly im not talking about the African people, it is after all the most populous country in the world in which the majority of the population is black. Rather its the vast quantities of oil that lie beneath its surface that throw this country into this list of worlds worst places to backpack.

Nigeria is the largest exporter of oil in the continent, a member of OPEC and high up there on the list of most corrupt countries in the world. Backhanders are common, wink wink nudge nudge and hows your father, may get you through most situations, but if your billy the backpacker, chances are your a bit slim on the swiss bank account department. Keep your money close and your passport closer. Chances are you will be swindled at some stage on your backpacking journey through Nigeria.

Its capital city, Lagos is officially the fastest growing city in Africa.

Flights are cheap and you can score some flashpacker accommodation for around $40US a night for a double by the beach.

You can even hit one of four beaches within 25km of Lagos, Lekki beach is one of the more famous for resort style accommodation.

The nightlife in Lagos comes highly recommended, as does a 9mm pistol under your bulletproof vest. You can hip hop you way around many bars along the beaches and inner city clubs are often set in classy hotels. This is where you will find most foreign partypackers giving it the big one.

Travel outside of Lagos and the odds of you having a close shave with either a lashing, stoning, amputation or just a long prison term are pretty high. Beware when traveling in the north about such commonplace norms such as drinking alcohol, you could find yourself the subject of some public street theatre in the central plaza.

If you plan on some ecopacking around Africa's largest mangroves, a hotbed of biodiversity, dont accidentally pack your BP petrol card. Kidnappings and extortion are some of the tactics used by the MEND, (Movement for the emancipation of the Niger Delta) against anybody foreign who may be connected to the oil industry.

Nigeria's largest armed faction outside that of the corrupt government may have good intentions of protecting the regions' environment and calls for fairer wealth distribution, however $ is always the bottom line and the crux of most evil in this country. Nigeria is a corrupt country. Make no doubt about it.

All in all, Nigeria looks relatively exciting for a backpacking experience if your looking for one out of the ordinary. If you dont drink, like lots of people following you around, enjoy pollution, love corrupt officials and layers of back-handed bureaucracy then you may have found your traveling utopia.

Nigeria, worlds worst place to backpack # 14.

Worlds worse places to backpack # 15

2010-10-30T02:47:00.000-07:00

Amen, its Yemen.

World's worst place to backpack # 15.

Flights are cheap, cargo seats on UPS courier flights are even cheaper. The Yemeni peninsula with its torquoise waters, coral reefs and empty white sandy beaches are only a flight away. Im sure there will be plenty of tickets going on www.lastminute.com in the coming days.
If that adventurous backpacker blood is boiling within you, that desire to go to far-flung places, exotic getaways, crazy passport stamps, a sense of unparalled adventure and authenticity...... then Yemen maybe calling your name.

Visit Sana'a, one of four UNESCO sites in the country and also one of the worlds oldest cities. 2500 years of life between its city walls.
Theres a sense of complete freedom lingering in the air. A country hanging in the balance of sharia law and no law. A place where poets settle tribal disputes.

For the intrepid, this could be interpreted as a country where anything goes, no rules, no boundaries....for the more wary travelers' it may also mean no return, no mercy....

Contrary to popular belief and occasional FOX News stories you may see, a backpacking experience in Yemen is no walk in the park.

Flashpackers forget the lattes and wifi. Partypackers beware, Yemen is what you would call a 'dry' country. You cannot drink in public. Fudgepackers forget it, your extra circulum activites are punishable by death.

Accommodation is not measured in star quality. If your flashpacking sleep-needs cant flucuate much lower than a 3 star, you had better re-route that last minute ticket.

Accomodation is ranked on a 'clean sheet' scale. Yup, those crisp white things that cover a sleeping surface. 2 sheets is top of the line, no guess what comes next and then bottom of the quality rating rung, no sheet.

Unless your from Jordan, Egypt, Hong Kong or Syria, you will need a visa. If you dont register yourself at a police station upon arrival, you will get in trouble.

Remember not to drink in public, kiss in public or take photos of public infrastructure, women or policemen/soliders.

Getting around is difficult. You are forbidden to ride on public transport moving from the east to the west. This basically means unless your escaping on the back of a camel under the cover of darkness and/or the cover of a burka; or your forking out lumps of US dollars for a 'private security' posse of government funded police to escort you along in a private taxi, you wont be venturing very far.

And coincidentally if you happen to be into all that Al Qaeda stuff, apparently its the place to be at the moment.

Only ranking 15th last on the formidable list of Worlds' failed states, your ride looks cushy. Theres 14 worse-off places to backpack in the world.

The 10 Very Best Zen Stories For Travelers

2010-09-30T09:03:00.000-07:00

The difference between heaven and hell is just a matter of perspective......this line jumped out at me. As its all too common on the road and in life to pass judgements, make big calls and voice your opinion, the very thread of what makes something or someone different lies in the eyes of the beholder.

This way of doing things and that way of living life are often confronted head on in travel experiences....how you get your head around it often shapes not only your journey but your objective perceptions...

Enjoy!!

The 10 Very Best Zen Stories For Travelers

The return of the prodigal son.....

2010-09-14T06:37:00.000-07:00

It took a return to my first ever backpacking experience to dust off the cobwebs on this blog.
I make no excuses, ive been consumed by this concrete jungle of London and its quietly closed down my capacity to express my love and excitement for travel. However no matter the mundane existence of scrapping pennies together in one of the worlds most expensive cities, my love for travel will never be extinguished.
This has been the longest time I have ever been in one place and not traveled. A reflection of my absence of blog entries....

It was somewhat a coincidence that I arrived in Ireland, 9 years to the week that I left the Emerald Isle on my first ever sustained trip abroad. It was my virgin backpacking experience. One that has shaped my life. It sounds cheesy, but, it "changed my life". I am today the man that I am because of that first trip overseas.

Against the will of my friends, colleagues, univeristy professors, parents and everyone else that had their 5cents worth, i set off on a year long trip. A one-way ticket to the other side of the world, with a year to travel wherever the wind would take me.
I was the only person I listened to, I knew i needed to go. I felt like I didnt understand myself. I felt like I had to truly test myself and the only way to do that was in a foreign environment. Life was passing me by at the age of 20 and I felt like i wasnt holding on with a real sense of purpose.

I still remember entering Ireland ten years ago. I was one of the first off the ferry during the famous foot and mouth disease outbreak. Cameras and flashes greeted me as I stepped down onto Irish soil. It was a rock stars enterance and I wondered who had tipped them off? Here I was returning to the land of my ancestors, the prodigal son with two generations of life in his backpack and a desire to put the 1848 potato famine to rest with a scoop of deep fried irish potato chups.

It was a year that shaped my life. I was out on my own for the first time in my life. Truly on my own. I had to make friends, create a life, choose paths to walk and deal with the consequences. It was a year i will never forget.

Walking down the streets of the bohemian/university town of Galway I felt waves of nostalgia wash over me.
Maybe it was a combination of the waves of Guinness washing down me but as I stopped by pubs where i used to work and sat down and watched life pass before me, I felt proud. Proud in the sense that I took those inital steps to travel away by myself in the middle of studying for a law degree. I listened to myself, and here i was 9 years later, loving that reaquaintance with myself.

I have never regretted a single moment of travel. In fact, quite the opposite.
Traveling to places where i've traveled before and where the memories are particularly special are one of the most fulfilling aspects of life for me as I get older.
Ive hit the big 30 last week. This is no closure on my travel experiences. As Ireland showed, maybe its time to reacquaint myself with some old travel experiences.....

Backpacking & Baguettes

2010-05-08T19:07:00.001-07:00

Baguettes. What is it about them that the French are so obsessed with?

I set out to reveal the truth behind the phenomenon during a backpacking trip around France. Within a few days I was making headway. What makes a good baguette? Why do the French consume so many? After munching about 20 I reckon I had it.

After careful deliberation I concluded it was all about the ‘crunch chew’ factor. The crispiness is paramount in a good baguette. Although there has to exist a vacuum of dough in the hollow nest of the crispy case. It is this fluffy consistency, the airy and delicate state of the dough, that is the go.

In my first two days I had consumed roast chicken baguettes, brie and fresh olive oil baguettes, steak, french fries and sauce combo baguette, toasted aubergine baguettes, shaved ham and mustard baguettes and plain fresh warm baguettes. Mini baguettes, massive baguettes. A baguette bonanza. Too many b’s. Introducing Brian Badongy....

The days in France rolled around the baguette bonanza. They became a morning ritual. A trip down to the local bakery, share a laugh about how hot the baker girl is and some crude joke about a bun in the oven, then wander home along the sun baked road.

The baguette could be enshrined in Frances constitution for all it mattered. (just as the italians have next door have with their parma ham) Life evolves around the crusty bread sticks, like pillars holding up the foundations of society. Everyone pops into the Boulangerie each day to buy their bag I began to understand why and what it meant to share some of this bread. Maybe Jesus is in my Backpack? (see two posts below) Was it only the French that picked up on his lasting legacy of sharing bread....

Hey Mr, Nice Baguette

But its these little rituals I enjoy when getting to know a place. Its the slackpacker in me. Wanting to get under the skin of a place. Wanting to really know how the locals live. What they do and why they do it.

The baguette proved to be my telescope into the kaleidoscopic world of France.

Market Madness in Italy

2010-05-02T11:28:00.000-07:00

my first footsteps in italy took me off wandering through a morning food market. it wasnt so much the diverse fresh produce that caught my attention what was even more amusing was the flavor of the italian personalities.

As i wandered through the rows of hanging chorizos & parma hams and fresh orange trees growing outside the stalls of wall to wall cheese, these characters seemed to jump into life...
“ahhh giavani, blah blah blah blah” whilst waving his hands in the air
giavanni replying “ahhh franco, blah blah blah ha ha ha” ad-mist a flapping of flabby arms
both of them chuckling away as one wandered past the other. i couldnt help but think of that scene in family guy where peter trys to speak italian. classic.

i watched as big fat franco wandered down the closed off street, taunting and touting with various characters behind their stalls.
they had the banter. smiles were chucked round and the parma ham slim slices handed out. the atmosphere was jovial as i set off jostling in ad-mist the general hustle and market bustle.

wandering off down the street i became consumed with watching these italian market vendors. one moment i was watching a pretty lady being chatted up by a market vendor, my ears then dragged me round to a lady dishing out some gruyere cheese, ahh grazie.
i made my way across the street and ran into the same young italian dude carrying the pretty ladies vegetables to her car. it was comical and a beauty to watch. this very attractive italian women striding across the road with her prada heels, mini skirt and sun kissed legs. the young dude bouncing along besides her with a smuggy grin smudged across his greasy face. two cliches in one.

it was then when a conglomeration of shrills and shrieks cast my eye back across the road. a large white market van blocked the middle of the narrow one lane road. four or five people on its right hand side were waving their hands in the air. only this time, it wasnt old franco and giavani having a laugh.

i bent down and to my horror, a dog was pinned under the front wheel. for a moment of chaos, maybe a few seconds no one knew what to do. my eyes flicked back up and caught an elderly lady standing there, a shocked and stricken look pulled down over pale face, in one hand her prada handbag, in the other a dangling red dog leash with no dog on the other end. she was looking up to the sky as if to say ‘wheres my dog gone’ or at least that what it looked like, she was probably either praying or cursing her italian gods.

the collective screams and shouts grew louder over those strange long stretch of seconds, and then finally the driver inched forward to pop the small dog out from under its rubber.
i turned and looked away. i had seen a family cat and a dog suffer the same fate.

(actually in hindsight i can laugh, but our cat was ran over as it sat on the top of a parked wheel, when it popped back out, its skin had been ripped off and it was convulsing, its carcas spasming out on the bloody concrete with my family standing on the steps watching unfold like a bad movie. my little sister suddenly stops crying and starts cry-laughing, “looook, hadlees alive, hes still moving” sadly, the rest of us knew hadlee was long gone.)

but needless to say, i turned away at that moment, it threw me off a bit, the whole mornings market banter slipped quietly from my mind as i wandered off, trying to shake those two poignant images from my head.

backpacker illusions from italy

Is Jesus in your backpack..?

2010-03-22T10:21:00.000-07:00

This video caught my eye mainly because it was shot in the town a few kilometres away from where i live. However, i was originally intrigued by the coverage of such a different side of backpacking that is very rarely unearthed, travel and its religious undertones.

Since the dawn of time, travellers have set out on 'missions'. Sailing across oceans, crusading across lands, all with the same intent - to bring the 'good news' to those they encounter by enlightening those that they meet on their mission. A mission bestowed upon them by a higher being.

When will the bible have a facebook fan page or does the big guy upstairs already use twitter to relay these messages?

Its all very controversial to say the least. Call me what you want, but pressure preaching is definitely not my cup of tea. Nor is the blind ignorance that someone can 'know it all' and have absolute unshakeable faith that their faith is 'the one and only' with little to no real substantial evidence.

Historically missionaries are held partly responsible for bringing death and disease to countless worldwide communities. From Africa to Latin America, the long arm of religion has spread its dirty paws. Needless to say the shaky dependence on this 'good news' that a saviour is coming or that the next life will be a cushy little number is still an empty promise. Its been 2000 years and still no cameo appearances..

I have travelled enough to see the effects of different religions on different societies, different individuals and religious organisations. I respect them all. Although I fail to respect those who blindly impose their beliefs on others. Its a fine line but i am generally skeptical of travellers with a 'religious message' for others who are generally less fortuante than them.

However, it is at the end of the day, each to their own. The slogan 'Live and let live' should be a religion. A backpackers religion. Nah, lets retweak that, if backpacking had a religion, it would read, 'live to travel, travel to live...'

So, was Jesus a backpacker? Safe to say, he was not a flashpacker....

Fairtrade Travel...

2010-03-05T09:45:00.000-08:00

Fairtrade fortnight is coming to an end. Im always a big campaigner for fairtrade coffee and bananas. I buy them religiously at the supermarkets. Its been rippling through the consciousness of shoppers of late, this wave of 'think before you buy' mentality is overwelmingly positive. However the road is long. Fairtrade products make up a pathetic fraction of the space on supermarket shelves.

Its has always been glaringly apparent to me that whilst traveling, fair trade is so paramount in a humans mind. To the point that one will go to such extremes to ensure they are receiving a good deal that they end up crying or yelling; making such a fuss over miniscure amounts or raging because they think they have been taken advantage of.

Markets all over the world, shop fronts, street traders and vendors rely heavily upon tourism as a livelihood.
Tourists, travellers, backpackers, unfamiliar track hackers, content stragglers and market hagglers...we all expect a fair deal when we engage in trade on our travels. It shouldn't stop there. Bring that mentality back to your supermarket.

Its nearly the end of fairtrade fortnight but theres still time, only another 140,000 to go until the million and one mark.

Jump on the website and register your fairtrade swap pronto!!!

Heres the deal:

"Swapping your usual stuff for Fairtrade stuff is a brilliantly small step to making the world a fairer place. It means that you get to show your support for developing world producers through what you buy. Two billion people - a third of humanity - survive on less than $2 a day. Unfair trade rules keep them in poverty, but they face the global challenges of food shortages and climate change too.

Fairtrade believes that developing world producers should be in control of their own lives, by getting a better deal for the work that they do. This is a different way of doing business. It's a way that puts the poorest of the world first..."

Im sure the majority of those reading this will have traded, bartered/haggled over something in s foreign country before. Its an exchange, a swap, a fair deal, between two parties, a common agreement reached by balancing both parties needs and wants.
Ethical travel. Backpackers do travel like this. Backpackers tap into that global consciousness. Theres an Ethicalpacker in all of us.
Make no mistake. World trade inhibits and dictates the way we all live.
Over a third of humanity does not get a fair deal at all.

Make your week a fair week. Join the revolution in demanding more fair trade products on the shelves of local supermarkets!!

Then maybe 2 billion people might have an opportunity to fulfil a dream, like travel....

http://www.fairtrade.org.uk/thebigswap

Cashed up...cash in on the real thing...

2010-02-18T04:58:00.000-08:00

Travel is the biggest blessing ever bestowed upon my life, and ultimately my character, who i am today, what i do tomorrow.

Having travelled for many years, the feeling that i could embark on a lifestyle like this forever was very real. Then the money dries up. Plans become more and more stringent and less complicated, often transport and food options begin to take the back seat. (Pun intended.) Then the inevitable day finally comes....you reach into that wallet and pull out the last twenty note. Its a day you knew was coming, but chose to ignore. Yet the reality of it hits you like a slap in the face with a cold fish.

Ive had many of those moments in my traveling life. However, i quite enjoy them. The parody is my enjoyment from such an unfortunate and anti climatic incident. What strikes me as somewhat humbling in a non self gratification manner, is that looking back on these 'moments' when at the time my world as i knew seem to be crumbling down around me, i was projected, forced, swept down another path in life, one that has always borne very poignant memories.

I have had some of the best times of my life when completely and utterly broke. I stand by this solidly. If anything it proves to me one thing. That money is overrated. Easy to say, hard to live by. Not that i live by this premise at all, but its a lesson i have learnt during my travels. A blessing. A teaching. A principle that i try to take with me in my rucksack of life. The first thing i pack into my backpack when i leave traveling. This principle is like solid gold to me. Because the minute i get consumed with money and what it can do for me on the road, i begin to miss the simplicity of it all. I bypass the things in life that dont cost anything. I never meet as many beautiful and memorable people as i do when my pockets are filled with dinero.

When we travel, its the people that make the difference. Meeting them costs nothing. I dont care too much for money cos money cant buy you love....

Travel Terminology gets funky....

2010-01-26T06:41:00.000-08:00

Neologisms. Coin-phrases, stereotypes and lots of hype. There are so many names for certain flavours of travellers. There exist such a melting pot of people that hit the road in search of adventure, in search of understanding, in search of different cultures, languages and lessons to be learnt.

Its hard to categorise all travellers and some resist the tags imposed on them by others. But I believe there is a real trend emerging. Backpackers are no longer one homogenous groups of travellers. The explosion of flashpackers onto the travel scene has caused many ripples across the traveling pond and in 2010 more will emerge...

Here are a few fun terms that have seeped out of the travel industry in the past few years alone....

• Babymoon: "One last trip" taken by an expecting couple before the arrival of travel-thwarting offspring.

• Couchsurfing: Flopping for free on a stranger's couch. Connections are usually made through the website couchsurfing.com, which has corralled more than 1 million members across the globe.

• Flashpacker: Someone who travels with a little more disposable income, where no cost is too great in the pursuit of travel happiness.

• Girlfriend Getaway: Adult version of a sleepover in which grown women fly to a destination, eat junk food, shop and complain about men.

• Silverpacker: Eccentric retired individual who perpetually coasts around reliving the dream.

• Narco-Tourist: A traveller, often bound for Amsterdam, who bases his or her destination upon the indigenous drug scene.

• Sightjogging: The healthy art of sightseeing whilst running (see also: tripping and falling).

• Slackpacker: A traveler that likes to get under the skin of a place, someone who stays awhile, not there for ticking off the boxes and grabbing the t-shirt, this traveler has time on their hands and uses it wisely to get the most out of their experience.

• Testosteroaming: The exclusively masculine pursuit of wandering around with a group of buddies in search of male bonding activities, i.e. hunting, playing pool and ogling women they don't stand a chance of getting.

• Transumer: An excessively rich tourist who approaches the world like it's an extended shopping mall.

• Voluntourism: Interactive form of travel in which do-gooders pitch in and build schools, educate locals and save the world.

Do you have any others, feel free to add them?
Happy travels, happy days

6Billion others...

2010-01-20T08:41:00.000-08:00

We share this planet, with 6 billion others.
We eat and drink, fart and stink, just like 6 billion others.
We cry and we die, we live and we get by, like 6 million others.

We enter this world with nothing, we leave this world with nothing, just like the 6 billion others.
What we do on this planet, what we say on this planet, how we act on this planet, effects 6 billion others.

If we think before we act, if we speak before we retract, maybe then, there is hope for the 6 billion others.
Sadly at this pace, this so called civilised rat race, there is no room for 6 billion others.

How can we sustain, how can we refrain from hurting 6 billion others.
Compassion alone will not do, nor will pessimism on the other shoe.
We share this world with 6 billion others.

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Visit 6 Billion Others @ http://www.6billionothers.org/

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Check out this amazing piece of work from Yann Arthus-Bertrand, the creator of the movie "Home"

It brings those 6 Billion others a whole lot closer

Paz

Travel with your eyes open...

2010-01-14T08:43:00.000-08:00

As we travel through other cultures, other worlds, other peoples lives, we become a part of them. Whether we choose to embrace it or let those cultures, worlds and peoples lives pass by us, we undoubtably have the power to influence them in one way or another.

Whilst we cannot and should not impose our values and morals on other people, much the same way government foreign policy attempts miserably to dictate what others should and shall not do, we still must RESPECT, LEARN and UNDERSTAND as we travel the road of life.

Backpacking takes you to corners of the world where basic human rights are trampled on a daily basis. Where human dignity is drowned out in a cloak of silence and suppression. Each individual human being knows what is a basic human right is. Upholding, or at least standing up for these is often the hardest part when your in another culture, another world, far from the one you grew up in. But if we strive to be the change we wish to see in this world, then action must be taken, voices must be heard, human rights must be upheld and respected.

Amnesty International are a pillar of strength, a beacon of hope, a light of inspiration for those voices around this world that often go unheard.

When you travel, open your eyes to injustices just as much as you open your eyes to tourist attractions. Becoming aware is the first step in creating a better, more just world. Travel is the forum. And you count your lucky stars that your even able to exercise that freedom....

Backpacker Tips from the last decade

2010-01-05T05:42:00.000-08:00

2010. Twenty Ten. The beginning of a new decade. What happened in the last one?! It doesnt seem that long ago I was in school. The most profound memories i cherish from the last decade is undoubtably those from my travels.

I want to share a few things i have learnt from the last decade of backpacking travel.

• Meet as many people as you can

• Vomit loudly and proudly and whenever necessary. You always feel better after it.

• Never be afraid to disrupt plans and go with the wind.

• Always lie to cops

• Never take laxatives and sleeping pills together

• Have faith in people, put your faith in people.

• Smile at strangers.

• Never rustle plastic bags in a hostel dormitory early in the morning.

• Laugh at yourself, life, and everything around you. People take life too seriously.

• Travel with an open hand, open heart and open mind.

Its so cliche, but so true - Life is short, make the most of it. If this decade flies past like the last i can only vouch for its realism and startling honesty. Remember that you have only one life to live as far as we know. Be whoever and whatever you’d like to be. Pursue your passions and your dreams. Life is too short to wonder, what if....

Its been 10 years since this song graced the airwaves. Always refreshing.

Happy new year everyone. Bring on 2010.

Eco Warriors walk, Flashpackers fly - Copenhagen and travel

2009-12-19T05:33:00.000-08:00

Copenhagen and what it means to you - the air traveler, the backpacker, the flashpacker, the mile high club tourist, whatever ticks your box. Travel is a major contributor to the excessive units of carbon that are released into the worlds atmosphere. A major part of the environmental time bomb in our hands.

As backpackers crunching up controversial carbon as we cross countries, are we part of the problem or part of the solution??

Backpacking has always been part of a larger, much more collective community of like minded people. Now the world faces unprecedented challenges, with rising sea levels, melting polar caps, soaring temperatures, irregular and extreme weather conditions, a disintegrating ozone protection and the extermination and elimination of some of the earths most precious natural resources. The worlds community must come together. They have. Copenhagen, coined the worlds most important environmental action awareness meeting ever.

The world leaders have come and gone. Resembling a parade of non confrontational appearances, acknowledging each country has a role to play, acknowledging that the earth and its 6 billion inhabitants face an environmental catastrophe.
Humans, only 200,000 years old, living on a 4 billion year old earth, have conquered this world, exploited it, sustainably abused it. In just 50 years, our earth has been more radically changed, than all previous generations of humanity.

We are all responsible, but are some more responsible for these factors than others? This was the cry from some of world's least developed countries, and a fair enough one I believe. But its too late for bureaucratic processes of accountability, its time for action. its time to stand up. Are we part of the problem or part of the solution?

Will flashpackers now think twice before taking that domestic flight to save a few hours? Hopefully travellers at the very least will attempt to offset their carbon footprint.

And so Copenhagen comes and goes. There has been a deal reached. A flimsy framework has been floated. World leaders from the 5 major seats on the UN security council are hailing it a success. The developing countries and countries most at risk from immediate global warming repercussions are not so enthused. Understandably.

It is non binding, there are no numbers or dates, it sets no target or timescale for curbing greenhouse emissions. It is what it is. A political catwalk with a lot of talk and little action.

Its too late to be a pessimist. Eco warriors keep fighting the good fight. Backpackers, travel with a collective conscious. Politicians stop talking. Leaders, start acting.

No matter where you go in life....

2009-12-15T09:25:00.000-08:00

Playing for Change.

Life presents us all with various confrontations, problems to overcome and situations to deal with. When you take everything in life away from around you, your left with one thing, people. People are the one true inspiration in this world, the only thing you really need in times of hardship is someone to stand by you.

'No matter who you are, no matter where you go in your life, at some point you gonna need somebody to stand by you'

Inspiration

2009-12-08T12:57:00.000-08:00

I want to share with you a couple of my favourite travel quotes of all time that never get boring no matter how many times I read them.

In fact they are a daily burst of inspiration while my feet lay idle. They stir the blood on a cold northern hemispheric winter morning. Whip the emotions up into a mini 'far away' frenzy, sometimes they even take me away for what pensioners would call, 'a special moment'.

I hope that they do the same for you.

"Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life” ~ Jack Kerouac

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” ~ Maya Angelou

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” ~ Mark Twain

“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” ~Mark Jenkins

“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” ~ Miriam Beard

Part 2 of 2. The Colombian Knee Buckler

2009-12-01T15:58:00.000-08:00

It was two hours and thirty minutes into the ride when my hangover really started to kick in. The cumbia music thrashing out in the tinny speakers somehow had eluded my attention thus far, now it was grating my the side of my head. I hadn't taken sleeping pills before on a long distance bus journey, but somehow the next few hours of fatty brmm brmm driving his toy car up and down my leg and this ear piercing music was not going to cut the mustard.

The trump card came in the form of two white pills, small and tablety, knock out nuggets of saviour in this hour of need, several hundred kilometres from Quito in a loud rickety bus with the stifling midday heat creeping up on us all. I reached into my pocket, leaning up on one arse cheek hanging out the aisle and all of a sudden fatty brrm brrm falls through the non existent gap between us and made this a horizontal three seater. I pop him back out as I settle back down, and in one smooth motion, drop the pills in my mouth as I chug on some of my luke warm apple postobon.

'Later gator' I smurk down at El Gordito, catch you on the flip side chunkster. My head must of lay dormant for a period of ten minutes, trying to shut everything off and slip into sleeptopia. I flipped over to look out the window. Cows in the fields were gazing up at the bus roaring past, I tried to think of sheep back in New Zealand, waiting for them to start jumping and take me to those white fluffy clouds and sleeeeep sleeeep sleeep

And the cumbia band played on. It felt like an hour and my pill action had bore no harvest, I was still awake. Fatty brrmm brrmm had been restless as per usual and the cows were still passing in the blurry rush outside the finger marked window. I felt hungry but I felt sick at the thought of food. A wave of nausea sweept over me. Ahh, could this be it I optimistically pondered, I dropped the shutters on my eyelids and lay my head back to rest.

No matter how much you butter it up, there is no way to describe the feeling when a sudden surge of diarrhea grips you.
An inferno roars within you, tears through your innards and shoots down through your intestines at a lighting pace. Your stomach tightens and your sphinixter is overcome with a sudden urge to relax, to release the pressure building up behind it. And its that very urge that you must combat and defeat within the 10 second onslaught of a flush of instantaneous diarehea. If not, kiss your dignity goodbye.

No, this cant be happening, I frantically tried to regather my composure. The young mother and Andreas had looked up at me, I must of lurched, squirmed or maybe even let out a terrified yelp. I was so focussed on keeping the back door locked that I lost any sense of my movements and/or vocals. Wow. What the hell just happened. It took me 1.5 seconds to not only realise the gravity of the situation ahead of me but the cataylist responsible. I had been done. I had slipped down two doses of laxitives.

The joke was on me. My thoughts were climbing over top of one another, I tried to sit up straight, I started to smile, I gripped the aisle hand rail, I took a deep breath. Thats actually quite funny. I bet they are pissing themselves with laughter right now. Oh my god, what a numnuts I am. Oh shit, Here goes, here it comes, its on....

This was going to be the mother of all battles. Fighting off a double drop dossage of laxitives whilst sweating out a hangover with loud music and an uncomfortable and irritating seat partner called El Gordito.

I took my breathing down and tried to scramble some thoughts together for a plan of action. I needed a toilet. Sweat started to gather on my brow. I needed toilet paper. Nah first things first. No amount of Colombian one ply toilet paper is going to mop this badboy up if the dam bursts.

Another surge started to swell within me. The tide started to turn somewhere deep in my tummy. I started thinking, this is it Den, your all over here, its the laxitive express hurling down the tracks hard and fast.....

A million thoughts crossed my mind. Kiss goodbye to all the dignity you have stored away whilst on this trip Denis, in fact, explain to the raging bus driver in your fumbling spanish that his seat is soiled, explain to those around you who are pulling out handkerchiefs fasting than you can scramble your words together. Look the young mother and Andreas in the eye and say sorry, i shat myself.

And it burned, burned burned....that ring of fire... that ring of fire.....

The Colombian Knee Buckler...

2009-12-01T15:55:00.000-08:00

The backpacking road is full of surprises. Journeys of potential bliss can turn into freakish nightmares in a matter of minutes. Such was the situation I found myself in on a sunny Sunday afternoon staring out the window of a Colombian bus on a 22 hour journey towards Ecuador.

This border is critically acclaimed as one of the most dangerous in Latin America. An area where Colombia's 60 year old civil war has caused tens of thousands of people to "vanish", millions more displaced, a constant heavy military presence and a general uneasiness that rings throughout the area.

It was this ring that got me on my 22 hour bus trip ..... I fell into a burning ring of fire, I went down down down and the flames went higher, and it burns burns burns.....that ring of fire

It all started back in Bogota at the Platypus Hostel as I was stuffing the last of my belongings into my backpack. I was out in the courtyard in a hurry to say goodbyes to fellow backpackers that I had befriended during my brief stay. Familiar faces, smiles and waves. That goodbye blur on a Sunday morning in a foreign hostel. No one wants to really engage you, its too early, its Sunday, acknowledgements are sufficient. The unspoken backpacker code murmured and nodded. Respected.

This Dutch dude pokes his head out of the door, I reckonised his face hazily, I had seen him around, perhaps we had chatted, shared a few brews around the courtyard with the many other backpackers that stayed in the infamous Platypus Hostel in central Bogota. It was a Partypackers hostel, the type of place you meet some of the Gringo trail's interesting characters.

"Hey man, you going to Quito?! Good luck with that one, these will put you out hombre, its a long trip man, happy days" and with that he stretched out his hand, I reached out to the half opened doorway, the shady Dutchman hiding half behind it, not wanting to fully emerge into the bright sunlight streaming through onto the old colonial patio. I shook his hand, instantly noticing the press of a small packet in my palm at the same time.

"Sweet mate, cheers aye, good luck on your travels" and with that I was off. Two of my friends had risen in the morning and were brave enough to show me to the door and send me on my way. Sunday morning soliders they were. Only the previous night they had partied with me until the early hours, true Platypus Partypackers, now valiant as ever, escorting me to the street to send me on my way.

Goodbyes were brief, as they often are on the road. You meet so many people, I had numbed myself to the reality of the situation, I may never see these guys again. It had been an amazing journey across the Carribean ocean to Colombia and down through the countryside. Months of travel together and now a solem hungover goodbye on the empty cobbled stoned streets of downtown Bogota on a sunny Sunday morning.

Before long I was on the bus, belting into the lush countryside in the early hours of a relatively quiet morning for Colombian standards. We zipped past the outskirts of Bogota and into the green wider countryside of Colombia, or Locolombia as its often referred to by its inhabitants. I had the blessings bestowed upon me to sit besides a young women and her fat chubby son. El Gordito he became quickly registered in my inner thoughts spiralling out of control. He was restless. Big and burly. A right handful for his young mother. A notable presence wedged in between the pair of us.

"This little fatty bom bom is gonna piss me off" I caught myself quietly muttering out loud in plain english. And as if he heard my cue, he proceeded to drive his toy car up the side of my leg. A shy smile from the young mother and I found myself rebounding back her smile. He's cool, just a harmless youngster. I looked out the window from the aisle seat, only 21 more hours to go. Shit
..........

End of part 1. Part 2 by the end of the week....its too long for one post, would get boring. Tune in for the finale, coming to a screen near you...

Hey, your cramping my style...

2009-11-24T15:13:00.000-08:00

Travel is about acceptance. Its about tolerance. Understanding and assimilating. These are some of the common threads that bind the seams of travel.

We do and we be, we travel and we see, but theres nothing quite like being free. Free from criticisms, free from persecution, free from ridicule. If someone choses to flashpack their way around the world, are they really missing out on the 'adventure' aspect of backpacking travel? If someone choses to stay in one destination because they don't want to see their carbon footprint spiral out of control, are they any less of a traveler? Who am I to critique this valiant Eco-Warrior? This Eco-packer. This is their style. Their spin on backpacking. Their perception on how they should travel.

Under the umbrella of backpacking exist many styles of travel. What I have been reading on the internet of late has been concerning me. I touched on it in my last blog post but felt compelled to write more as I trawled more and more comments on this distinction between "tourist" v "traveler" and even to some extents this "flashpacker" v "real backpacker".

Over 100 years ago, G.K. Chesterton laid it down, his distinctions on this issue were summed in one of his famous lines - "The traveler sees what he sees. The tourist sees what he has come to see”
One of my favourite authors Paul Theroux’s famous line, “Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travelers don’t know where they’re going.” touches on the contentious issue many young travellers ponder over.

I believe it can be all whittled back to one word. Respect. I respect your style of travel as I respect your personality. The cliche "Live and let live" is ringing in my ears.

I believe the diversification of travel styles and personalities is a progressive one. Embrace it, don't fight it. After all, wouldn't this world be a boring place if everybody looked the same, if there was only one language, one way of doing things, one 'type' of backpacker. It would deny the very existence of what this world is - a mysterious unity held together through the web of diversity.

Amen and goodnight.

Donkey or Camel - Your choice....

Flashpacker Sprinkles

2009-10-27T05:34:00.000-07:00

Flashpackers aye. They are trading in their backpacks for "roller-cases" like never before. Hitting the streets, with their wheeliepacks, are they worthy of criticism or is it just a sign of the times?

Flashpacking. Where no cost is to great in the pursuit of happiness. Its backpacking with a twist. A slice of lime in that Gin & Tonic by the poolside in Rio de Janeiro. That chocolate tiramisu your nibbling on whilst checking your emails at a wi fi connection cafe in Vienna. The sprinkles on your cappucino. Perhaps its that warm towel that slips off the heated handrail in your downtown hostel in Melbourne. The movie-star lights above your mirror. That little care package that those flashpacker hostels often give you when checking in. The little things.
Its the little things that really matter.

Flashpacking is about choice.

But its not everybodys cup of tea. Some like it with no milk nor cream. Forget the sugar, my travels are sweet enough. But some travelers just can't resist those added sweetners, the cream and sprinkles, its all worth it, se vale la pena.

Its a new breed of backpacking and love it or hate it, its here to stay. Whether your a flashpacker, a slackpacker, a market haggler, a content straggler, we all share that same independent spirit of adventure. The ethos of traveling as a backpacker hasnt changed, maybe just the styles.

The Most Famous Backpacker Of All Time

2009-10-15T06:16:00.000-07:00

Who is the most famous backpacker of our time? Its a question worthy of some debate i believe. If there had to be one backpacker who was the 'pin up' or the one to go down in the history books, who would it be.....

One of the earliest free spirited travelers i thought should get a mention was Marco Polo. The legend traveled for 24 years. 24 years. I dont know if the term backpacker was probably appropriate, more of a 'slackpacker' - Where some travelers take the high road and some take the low road, Marco Polo took the long and slow road, setting out on a quest to really understand a place and its people. Legend.

Ibn Battuta - This 13th centuy Moroccan traveler covered 75,000 miles in 30 years around the world. He almost makes Marco Polo look like he was out for a casual stroll. He traveled mainly around the Middle East and Asia as a raggety camelpacker, although become an affluent member of the Muslim world during his later years, presiding as a judge until his death caught up with him.

So those dudes are long gone. Their legacies live on though. But who is still alive that could possibility be the backpacker pin-up traveler?? Could it be.....

• Charles Veley of San Francisco, who has visited 600 plus of what he counts as 673 territories. Or is this guy just a part time hero out for some fame?? Does he truly capture what it means to be a backpacker, someone prepared to travel the road less traveled, in an independent manner for nothing more than the satisfaction of understanding the world we live in.

• How about traveling Matt. The guy who zipped around the world in six months, visiting 39 countries and dancing a crazy little dance in each one of them. Check out the link, its a beautiful and inspiring clip however, he falls short of what in my terms would be one of the most famous backpackers. His travels although started genuine, have turned somewhat commercial. Credit given where credit due, he followed through on a great idea.

He reminds me of another famous traveler i looked up to as a kid. Uncle traveling Matt from Fraggle Rock.

I think the conclusions we can all draw from is that people travel for different reasons. There are so many types of backpackers its hard to "pin up" just one. Where traveling matt might be a bit of a flashpacker and marco polo a slackpacker, i think we all have a bit of backpacker in us, we just execute it with a twist.

Your comments on who is the most famous backpacker are more than welcome....

travel and the big www.com

2009-09-29T07:19:00.000-07:00

the internet is such an integral part of our lives these days. so much so, that its completely absurd when trying to think of life without the world wide web, which has only really been functioning as a w.w.w since 1989.

it is intrinsically integrated into our everyday lives. even on the road, the lure of the net cannot deter travelers from the destination where they are residing. even remote islands around the world will have somewhere to check your emails. if in doubt, whip out the iphone.

its nuts to think how travel and the internet will continue to intertwine and gradually compliment or destroy each other.

What happens in Vegas stays on YouTube, Flickr, Twitter, Facebook….

My Backpack

2009-09-16T13:43:00.000-07:00

With my backpack on my back
this dusty patchy olde sack
im off again
down this road with no end

A fresh day
another way
I wander off
with nothing more to say

Cos im breathing in the fresh air
got my pack on and i dont really care
as to my direction
the important thing
is my perception

But its the people i meet
and the places i go
these moments they always show
me
you end up reaping what you sow

Its in the smiles
in the faces
of all earths glorious races
that encourages my faith in this world

And with my backpack on
i sing this song
wandering along in my unique way
anticipating each new day.

On Lifestyle and Travel.

2009-08-11T10:55:00.000-07:00

...the most important thing to understand is that we have the ability to make decisions and have choices to pursue dreams, whatever those may be...

travel enlightens us. travel challenges us. travel delivers understanding. provokes thought. travel is holistic.

choice beckons us. choice threatens us. choice demands sacrifice. choice is so elusive. yet choice pervades us.

why, when we have such ability to make decisions, we find it so hard to pursue dreams?

it reminds me of one of my favorite travel quotes...

we travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us

flashpackking comedian

2009-08-10T07:01:00.001-07:00

this is classic one minute youtube vid of a comedian taking the back out of backpacking.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZdzno-Njzk

And so we travel.

2009-08-07T14:13:00.001-07:00

And so we travel.

Through changing worlds and shifting sands
over high seas & foreign lands
and what stimulates our emotions
as we cross these oceans
staring at the stars
and walking the land
carved from gods own hand

It must be the people
in the smiles
in the faces
of all earth's glorious races

We breathe & we see
we do & we be
but theres nothing quite like
being free.
And so we travel...

Im a Traveler

2009-07-21T05:44:00.000-07:00

Im a Traveller.

a navigator
boredom hater
star gazer
foreign trail blazer
bit of a wanderer
definitely a ponderer
cultural crusader
territorial invader
livin it large
keeping it local
crossing language barriers by staying vocal
a desperate travelling whore
always searching for more
cant get enuff of living it rough
the search for my holy grail
an endless satisfying trail
a traveling metorite
a soul searching parasite
i continue to seek and find
always keeping an open mind
yeah i may be a roamer
a zoner
an educated stoner
but im also a hunter
a gatherer
another travel punter
im a glider
a floater
a roll-your-own smoker
an addicted road junkie
call me a curious monkey
but i gota keep on moving
deep inside me it feels so soothing
im rolling to the sound of the beat
ive got to move my itchy feet
ive got to walk to the beat of my heart
life needs me to play my part
i live a nomadic existence
yet pose no resistance
to the foreign soil i traverse upon
i force worlds to collide
then hang on and ride
the crest of the wave until it delivers me ashore
im a thrill seeker
washed up in another country
eureka
im a mobile backpacker
an unfamiliar track hacker
some days a market haggler
but will always be a content straggler
im a cruiser
a chooser
globe trotter
country hopper
im roaming the globe
writing my story
soaking up this earth
and all its glory
im a global menace
otherwise known as Denis
but regardless of these labels
my cards are on the table
i know who i am
and i know where im going
as long as my gypsy blood flows
ill be the only one who knows
that for if the wind keeps blowing
the horizon will always be showing
me the way home
im just a traveler
content on his journey
©deniscorcoran

calling all backpackers ... hear me roar

2009-07-14T07:35:00.001-07:00

i start this blog with a capital ?

the existence of this blog has grown out of a personal desire to align myself with a particular travel identity. i have traveled the world. i have backpacked the globe. i am a traveler. a backpacker. an aging student at the travel university of life.

i am now what i once was and i always will be what i have become from the day it all began. over a decade ago when i set out on a backpacking trip on my lonesome i wandered off into the horizon against the flow of societies recommendations and advice, down some foreign dusty dirt road that had no signposts yet trailed off into several different worlds....my wonderful world of traveling had begun spontaneously inside my bubble world of backpacking.

and here i am, many years later, many pairs of flipflops worn through, a stamp infested raggity olde passport, many countries and cultures explored….and im still somewhat confused. not from what ive learnt or from what ive seen on my travels, but more of an identity crisis, a glimpse in the mirror, a re-acquaintance with myself after all these years traveling.

what type of traveler am i now? who am i now...am i still a backpacker or have i transformed, morphed into another form of packer...i dont even carry a pack on my back any more....what type of backpacker have i become.....