Photo by Monia Sassi

While much of Africa is best known for its stunning wildlife and superlative National Parks, Ethiopia’s main travel draws are scenic natural beauty and fascinating people.

Therefore, it seemed only natural that when our overland trip passed through Ethiopia, we took a detour to the Omo Valley, an area rich in colorful tribes.

But seeing the excursion on our itinerary alongside temple visits, camel treks and countless game drives made me feel a little uncomfortable. When the principal attraction of a trip is looking at how other people live, there’s a fine line between human interest and human zoo.

In our short visit to this tribal region could we really learn much about a people’s traditions or were we just wandering through to gawk and collect a few snaps for Facebook?

On the jarring 12-hour truck ride to Turmi, a dusty town deep in the valley, we quizzed our guide Wesigne about the Hamer people, their customs and whether or not they would welcome interlopers.

He assured us that as well as being the most populous, the Hamer were the friendliest tribe in the region.

Sure enough, as our truck neared its destination the faces gazing at us from the roadside were smiling, though it is a little tough to appreciate a friendly wave when the outstretched hand is clutching a Kalashnikov.

Automatic weapons aside, the Hamer are a striking people, their chiseled, androgynous beauty marred only by the occasional decorative scars scored with inch-long thorns.

The Appeal of Tribal Tourism

For some reason, tribal living holds an undeniable worldwide appeal for tourists.

Admiring unique styles of dress and witnessing time-honored practices that have long-since become obsolete in western culture, offer a peek into a world that we only know from books and documentaries.

Photo by Monia Sassi

In fact, many people travel just to seek traditional cultures, shunning Western countries as boring, safe destinations. They want to visit those remaining corners where ancient lifestyles prevail before outside influences dilute and destroy them forever.

Yet by insisting on visiting these societies, perhaps we travelers are the very ones who contribute most to their decline.

Tourist visits inevitably bring items with them that are alien to certain cultures, items which many people believe pollute traditional societies by inflicting ‘westernisation’.

During our brief visit to the Hamer, Wesigne was quick to scold a travel companion for giving his old sunglasses to a teenage member of the tribe. He claimed that, while seemingly insignificant, a gesture like this could gradually change the tribe – starting with their traditional dress.

But are these minor changes such a terrible thing? Why should we as outsiders be so intent on keeping tribal cultures so traditional?

Is cultural preservation a selfish desire, so we can take striking photos and have a riveting tale for our next email home?

Agents of Cultural Decay

We presume that anything western would be a pollutant, but perhaps even the most traditional of tribes would enjoy a few modern conveniences to make life a little easier.

The Hamer have already swapped their traditional spears for rather alarming machine guns. No, they’re not part of the typical costume, but when you’re dealing with AK47-wielding cattle rustlers, maybe you need something more than a spear to defend your livelihood.

At times it seems that Westerners are intent on preserving other people’s cultures, even if that means making those people work a little harder for their daily bread.

While wandering through the hassle-free market (aimed at locals, not the trickle of tourists that venture to this remote corner of southern Ethiopia) our guide bumped into his good friend Kale, a Hamer warrior.

Curious to learn a local perspective, we asked what he thought of tourists visiting his tribe and were surprised by his response. Translated through Wesigne, he told us that tourism might actually benefit the Hamer.

“If we know that people are visiting to see our customs, we become more proud of them and maybe that means there’s more chance of us keeping our traditions alive,” he said.

It was a point of view that I had never considered.

Pride and Tradition

If outside interest maintains pride in tribal traditions and travelers provide a small cash injection that enables rural dwellers to avoid the worldwide trend of moving to urban slums, is it possible ‘tribal tourism’ could actually help to conserve traditional life?

As we left Turmi a day later, I tasted much food for thought. We’d worried that our visit might be met with hostility, but what we found was an overwhelming indifference towards tourists.

Perhaps it was shyness, perhaps a way of masking distrust, but I think that we were seen by the villagers as an inevitable occurrence that, for the moment at least, has little bearing on daily life.

On our return truck ride along the bumpy dirt roads I noticed two Ethiopians from out of town heading back to their homes after a day of trading with the Hamer. Their Nike shirts and shorts were coupled with the headbands and gold bangles sported by tribal warriors in a style I like to think of as ‘Hamer Chic’.

It appeared that while outside influences are bound to change the tribe, cultural exchange is not always a one-way street.

Community Connection!

Check out Matador founder Ross Borden’s 10 Essential Tips For Visiting Indigenous Peoples

Do travelers damage traditional cultures, or does tribal tourism keep traditions vibrant and alive? Make your voice heard by leaving a comment below.

Don’t let your relationship fall into a post-travel rut.

After weeks or months of all day face-time in exotic destinations-along with the intimacy (good and bad) that it creates-going back to the drudgery of cubicle life can put a serious damper on even the strongest relationships.

But just because you spend most nights zoned out in front of the TV instead of gazing into each other’s eyes doesn’t necessarily mean your relationship has puckered out.

Relationships evolve just like people; there are highs and lows, times when you look at your partner and see your soul mate and times when you see an annoying person who won’t leave you alone.

Wondering how to keep the highs around more often? Here are six tips for keeping the (wander)lust alive in the face of post-travel blues.

1. Relax. You’re still together.

Instead of losing sleep over whether you’ve lost that special spark, look at the first few months back home as a transition period. Existential crises during this sensitive time-particularly regarding relationships-are not productive.

Think of it this way: the two of you survived bumpy buses, bedbugs, diarrhea and travel fatigue; are you really worried that a little case of the nine-to-fives is going to do you in?

Relax and remember that you’ve made it this far. If your relationship is doomed, you’ll figure it out-but don’t make major decisions during the flux and flow of the first weeks back home.

2. Do not fear the funk.

After the initial excitement of seeing friends and family wears off, a little post-adventure depression is only natural.

Don’t be surprised if your partner seems a little mopey, or if you get grouchy and irritable over petty matters.

The post-travel funk can be something you bond over instead of something that builds walls between you.

The best way to defeat the funk is to stay busy with social activities and find stuff to look forward to, like a weekend trip to see out-of-town friends or a cool art opening.

Nothing is going to change the fact that you’re at home instead of on the road, but plenty of couples find happiness without ever leaving the city; you can be one of them (for a little while, anyway).

3. Sprinkle reminders of your travels everywhere you look.

You don’t have to redecorate your entire apartment in the style of African-savannah-chic, but stashing a few keepsakes from your travels on the bookshelves or coffee table will help provide a constant reminder of the wonderful journey you experienced together.

Photo by HilaryAQ

Practical items-such as salad tongs (a set of handcarved wooden ones, for example), embroidered napkins (because you were planning to go paper-less anyway), candle holders, bookends, ceramic bowls, and handcrafted baskets-are both useful and nostalgic.

And don’t let those digital pics languish on your hard drive-print ‘em, frame ‘em and hang ‘em up.

The most beautiful or professional shots aren’t necessarily the best ones to display; instead, choose the ones that remind you of a funny story or a romantic moment.

Now you’ll never forget the time your partner lost his flipflop under the train in India and had to go barefoot in Calcutta, or that one unbelievable sunset at the Pyramids.

4. Stage a reenactment.

I know: you can never truly recreate that grilled fish at the tiny beach shack in Belize or the Panang curry on Koh Tao.

But with a little imagination it’s not hard to manage an approximation closer to home. You can find hundreds of thousands of recipes online, and most big cities now stock ingredients for Indian and Asian cooking.

Add a little Belizean rum or some Thai pop songs to the mix, and you’ve got yourself a nice little scene-minus the mosquitoes and mangy street dogs.

Your friends will be impressed with your newfound culinary skills, and nothing says “I still love you” like homemade samosas with coconut chutney. Mmmm.

5. Take short trips closer to home.

Too tied down to travel far? Take a weekend road trip, spend a few days camping in a nearby park, or be a traveler in your own town.

Leases and jobs don’t have to prevent you from making the most of your free time. By getting back into “travel mode” every now and then, you can rekindle the special relationship sparks that fire up when you’re on the move.

Short trips help inject a bit of travel lust back into the everyday grind, making the work week that much easier to get through.

Which brings us to our final tip:

6. Start planning for the next Big One.

It’s never too soon to squirrel away savings and get on your boss’ good side (so she doesn’t fire your butt on the spot when you ask for two months off next year).

Don’t fret about plane tickets or itineraries just yet-don’t even worry about where you’ll go. Save that stress for later. In the meantime, just knowing that there will be a next trip, and fantasizing about it with your partner, is enough to keep the happy-juice flowing.

Nothing beats the back-home relationship blahs like sharing the excitement of your future travels together. Keep the globe spinning and your minds a-whirl, and you and your partner will beat the blahs together.

Photo by Jimmy Harris

Guidebooks will always have their place in the travel experience.

But it’s possible to become too reliant on them to the detriment of your trip.

Ideally, guidebooks should be viewed as the starting point of a trip and used to find the right direction rather than something to look to every time you’re unsure of your next move.

Think travel without the safety of the guidebook can be daunting? Here are some tips for traveling without it.

Stay In An Unlisted Place

Some of the best locations are exactly that because they are not listed in any guidebook. They are often more intimate and the staff may go that extra mile to make your stay a truly memorable one.

You will be supporting a local business reliant on passing trade or word-of-mouth (rather than following a long line of people traipsing a well-worn path from the point of arrival to the most highly rated hostel).

Unlisted places may also be cheaper and friendlier, as they are not resting on any laurels arising from their entry in a travel guide.

Disregard Some Guidebook Advice

I would never suggest disregarding guidebook advice where personal safety or cultural respect are concerned – wandering into a mosque wearing a bikini or flashing wads of cash in a neighborhood known for gun-toting criminals are scenarios that will never conclude favorably.

However, if you pay too much heed to every danger described, you could be too terrified to leave your room for fear of being kidnapped at gunpoint or coming down with a rare tropical disease. Get out and explore!

Nobody Likes A Miserly Know-It-All

Insisting you pay $3 per night instead of the current rate of $3.50 because “that’s what the book says” is insulting to your host and rather pathetic.

The guidebook listing will have been written well in advance of your own travels, meaning prices will inevitably be higher. I have been ashamed to hear fellow travelers complaining loudly about sums of money that actually amount to very little in the context of their own lifestyle back home.

You’ll invariably make fewer friends if you behave like this, so just relax and pay the proper rate.

Listen To The People You Meet

Photo by Burge5000

Undoubtedly the best advice I have received while traveling is from talking to other people about where to stay and what to do.

A little-known island is just the ticket when you want to escape the backpacking crowds. But, as you can imagine, a little-known island won’t be tranquil for long once it’s featured in a global publication.

Sometimes the only way to have a bit of peace and quiet is to take a risk and follow advice from people you meet along the way. Remember, they probably had the opportunity to stay for a while and were able to see things from a slightly different angle than the guidebook writer.

Leave The Guidebook In Your Accommodation

Don’t skip the iconic sights, but be open to more obscure ideas. Who knows where you might end up?

For me it was staying overnight in a tiny rural village with a new local friend and his extended family, getting drunk on home-distilled liquor, and trading Lao phrases such as “Can you starch the collars” and “Is there an ATM around here?” from our phrasebook.

I don’t remember anyone I met while visiting the Taj Mahal, but I won’t forget the laughter and warmth of the night I stayed in an unnamed village in the middle of the Lao jungle.

Take A Chance!

The advice given in guidebooks can be invaluable and will give you a birds-eye perspective on issues such as local culture, safety guidelines and an overall flavor of your destination.

However, it’s possible to lose your travel independence because of the safety net the guidebook affords. Sometimes traveling without this cushion and relying on first-hand advice from the people you meet (whether they are locals or travelers) will lead to a more rewarding experience.

By taking a chance on the unknown, you will almost certainly have a more memorable travel experience.

It could be a bumpy ride at times, and you will probably make mistakes along the way, but travel is supposed to be an adventure, right?

What are your tips for traveling without a guidebook? Share in the comments!

The collapse of the cheap oil economy demands action. James Howard Kunstler offers 10 ways to prepare for a post oil society.

350 parts per million is the red line for carbon dioxide in the atmosphere – any more than that and we’re all in serious trouble. Bill McKibben and the team of eco-ninjas at 350.org are spreading the word.

Here’s the definitive guide to hostel etiquette from Lonely Planet author Leif Pettersen. # 18. “Spontaneous farting is only funny under very precise circumstances.”

Yesterday I found absolutely outstanding advice on writing by one of the masters – Kurt Vonnegut. His most important point? Keep it simple.

Taken Vonnegut’s advice to heart? Good.

Your next assignment is to read The 10 Steps To Becoming A Successful Travel Writer.

Enjoy the weekend everyone!

Photo by junku-newcleus

Recently I was talking to a female friend of mine – a friend who is incredibly gutsy when it comes to solo travel.

We were talking about my bar-hopping habit when I travel solo, and she mentioned how impressed she was by my ability to wander into a local drinking hole on the road and make myself at home.

Really? But hadn’t she survived crowds of elderly Chinese women on a Yangtze river cruise, staring at her while she peed, fascinated by her pale white butt? Hadn’t she been stranded in rural Siberia, when that famous train pulled out of the station without her?

Yes, she said. But she still found going into bars, alone and in foreign climes, pretty intimidating. I told her that for me, it was the opposite: drinking alone was the easiest part.

For anyone else who might be intimidated by hitting the bar scene solo, here are a few practical tips:

1. Find a Distraction.

It can feel awkward sitting alone at a table, staring into your pint. Writing a postcard or reading a book can work, but those options won’t help you meet people.

Pick a pub with live music playing, or a sports bar with an exciting game on the TV. This not only gives you something to stare at, AND something to talk about with all those new friends you’re about to make – it’s also a great way to learn more about the local culture.

I’ve soaked up live blues in the Mississippi Delta, watched cricket at a beachside shack in Barbados, and cheered the hometown rugby club on in northern New Zealand – all experiences that easily surpass any paid tour I’ve ever taken.

2. Sit at the Bar.

It’s a cliche image: the solo drinker, belly up to the bar, pouring out his (or her) soul to a sympathetic bartender. But most of the time, that image comes true.

Assuming the place isn’t swamped, the staffer behind the bar is likely to ask you about yourself and listen patiently to the answer. That’s her job.

If you’re alone at a table you’re completely isolated from all your fellow solo drinkers. At the bar, you’re all in it together, and you may find yourself passing the evening swapping stories, telling jokes, or – see #1 – cheering on the local team together.

3. The Early Bird Doesn’t Get Harassed.

Photo by malias

This one is especially applicable for solo females: drink in the afternoon.

Times are changing, but in many parts of the world (and even at home in North America) there can still be a stigma or a set of assumptions attached to a woman alone in a bar at night.

Some people might assume that your only reason for being there is to get picked up, and while a little flirting can be fun, I’m guessing a whole evening of propositions from random men isn’t what you had in mind.

An afternoon setting is much more casual, and less fraught with expectations. Not that I’m saying you should stay in at night! But starting early means you leave yourself plenty of time to make some new friends before the sun goes down.

The reverse is true for the guys as well: Drinking alone at night, it might be harder for you to meet people, as they may assume you are on the prowl. Fair? Not really. But hey, getting started in the afternoon is a pleasant price to pay for old stereotypes that won’t die.

4. Ask about Local Specialties.

Not every bartender is going to get chummy right away, but most often there’s one surefire way to get them to open up.

Recently I wandered into an intimidatingly local pub in Brooklyn, full of thickly-accented regulars and a classic close-mouthed New York bartender who didn’t give a f*ck.

I’d been hovering awkwardly by the bar for a few minutes when the bartender finally deigned to acknowledge me. I asked him about local microbrews, and – just like that! – he was all smiles and chitchat.

I wound up sampling a few different options before settling on a special Christmas ale, and – naturally – turning my attention to the Giants game on the screen above the bar.

5. It’s All in the Attitude.

The key to drinking alone is the vibe you give off: you want to seem friendly and approachable, but not predatory or needy. Staring at your table or your book will ensure that you stay solo – which is fine, if that’s what you’re after.

But if you’d like to meet your fellow patrons, make eye contact with people and smile. Comment out loud on the game, or clap loudly (and look around you while doing so) after a musician has finished his set.

Don’t be afraid to start a conversation with your neighbor – and don’t be surprised if he starts one with you first.

What are your tips for meeting people when drinking alone? Share in the comments!

Photo by Benjamin Orbach

As I waited for the monorail that would take me to my connecting gate at O’Hare Airport, the sun rose and painted red the lower edges of the Chicago sky.

It was the color of the elderly Sikh’s turban in Jaipur, the man who had sold me a bottle of water between handing out change to the pilgrims who passed his shop.

The red light reflected off of the station’s glass walls, steel-colored fixtures, and sparkling floor. For the first time in two and a half weeks, I was alone.

My backpacking vacation to India was a trip to a world filled with henna-dyed orange hair; freshly baked naan; maroon and gold bangles; 500-year old fishing nets; purple saris; green fields of tea plantations; and the “What is your name?” shouts of the 19 smiling kids who followed me through a Shekawati village.

My snapshots are colorful collages set to the clamor of chatter and traffic, but as I watched the sunrise in Chicago’s airport, it was the darkness of Mathura station and the scraping noise of the man who dragged himself along the platform that filled my thoughts.

Mathura Station

A week earlier, beneath the station’s dim lights, our train slowed to a stop and we jumped to the platform below.

My friend Fred and I jostled with other travelers so to climb the ramp and cross the bridge to platform 1 and the ticket window on the other side. At the ramp’s entrance, we streamed around the white-spotted cow like water flowing around a riverbed’s protruding stone.

It was 7:30 PM, Fred’s flight departed Delhi at 11:30, and we were a couple of hours away.

On the platform-bridge, wedged among bustling locals, I twisted away from the outstretched hands of older men who wore thick glasses and sidestepped between shoeless children in dirt-stained clothes who bobbed against the tide of the crowd’s momentum.

Shaking palms beckoned from the shadowy margins and little hands patted my legs.

Ten feet from the ramp’s end, a young man lay on his back. He clutched a black gym bag in his left hand and the sole of his right sneaker faced our approaching pack. His silver watch sparkled in the dim light; he wasn’t of the station’s inhabitants.

It had been a seizure, and an official in a tan uniform knelt at his side.

The crowd slowed, registered an unspoken acknowledgment to the randomness of the unexpected or perhaps the power of fate, and pressed on.

A Sudden Darkness

Photo by Benjamin Orbach

Fred and I searched for the ticket window, needing the express to Delhi. My navy shirt was tie-dyed with salty dried sweat. As Fred pointed to the ticket window, there was a collective gasp, and then black silence.

The station was engulfed in the darkness of rural India.

Before the lights went out, I had noticed the legless beggar on a wooden board. His curly hair reached for the ceiling and his hands were wrapped in rags that were once white. He had been dragging his way across the platform.

Adjusting to the black-on-black forms around me, I made out the beggar’s shape just a few feet away. Undeterred by the power outage, he continued along the platform. The scraping sound of his board against the concrete floor sliced through the thick air and rebounded off of the station’s walls.

Was he blind? I wondered. Did he realize that we were surrounded by darkness, or did it just not matter?

He maneuvered around still dark lumps – travelers huddled on bed-sheets for the night, their heads propped on baggage. Were we all just different shaped lumps?

Perhaps we had stopped existing to him, just as he had for us.

The Traveler’s Moment

Two minutes passed, a generator began to purr, and the lights flickered. India’s time-out for existential musings was over and the station’s traffic resumed its hurried pace.

As I tried to box-out locals so Fred could buy our tickets, I heard water hitting the ground. A few feet behind me, a large brown cow was going to the bathroom. Drops of urine splashed upwards, rising from the station floor.

Fred wiped some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and asked with a smile, “How much can you take?”

We began to laugh and a teenager cut in front of us. It could have been a scene from a movie or an overheard conversation at a bar.

But it was mine: my traveler’s moment.

My India moment, my raw moment of life where all senses inhale and flail and reach an agitated state of awareness where time stops – if only for a moment of pause.

What do you pay for a moment like that, for sound to stop and for smell to be suspended? For the chance to pause, to see through your eyes but also to climb out of your body, to step outside of yourself, and to see the details carved before you?

To survey the scene from above: yourself, the people, and the platform. To pull the camera back, slowly, on to the station, the parking lot, the taxis, the bicycles, and all of the people. To keep widening the shot until you see the slums and the buildings and Mathura itself, covered in darkness.

And then, to zoom back in, rushing from the third person back to your own two eyes, to hear the ebbs of human motion begin again with a shriek, or in this case, the scrape of a board.

To feel the hot air on your neck and the vulnerability of being aware of all the shadows; what would you pay?

Returning To Life

Deep down, when we are packing our bag or buying the ticket online, that moment of unconsciously saying ‘wow’ out loud is what we hope for.

When it matters too much that the copy machine takes three minutes to warm up, that some guy’s shoulder on the subway is rubbing against you, and that Peyton Manning is on Monday night football, again.

That moment, where you recognize that you are in a far away place, and have discovered something so real that you never could have imagined existing just a few seconds before, is why we take time out from what we have, where we are, and what we are doing.

While every trip has the potential to include a traveler’s moment, it isn’t something that can be forced or expected.

With most trips, I’ve found, it just doesn’t happen. They can’t be bought; sadly, there are no travel moment sure things. There is no exact formula for state of mind and state of venue that will strip everything away.

For me, in this case, it was ironic that the moment came in shades of black in a place that broke the color wheel.

In a place of a billion shouts, it was an indifferent scrape of a square piece of wood against a concrete floor that slapped my face, stopped time, and made me pause.

***

Back in O’Hare airport, the monorail arrived and the doors opened. Inside, a lone man with gelled blonde hair, wearing a crisp white shirt listened to his ipod and watched the sun come up.

He glanced at me–my beard, my dirty pants, and my hair that also reached for the sky–and returned to the window and his day.

Have you experienced your traveler’s moment? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by Scott Muscatello

My first solo trip abroad was less than a year after 9/11.

Life in the U.S. was still tense, especially on the East coast, where I was a junior in college.

Airports were enveloped in almost sanctuary-like silence. While I waited to board my flight to Dublin I watched people remove shoes and sweaters and belts.

Women hadn’t yet learned not to wear knee-high boots or anything with complicated laces. Security guards went through their motions with heavy, serious expressions.

Tomorrow I would be in Ireland for the start of a long summer away from home and I felt a distinct sense of relief when the U.S. gave way to the Atlantic Ocean.

I thought that, in addition to leaving behind all of my personal worries (like what to do now that graduation was approaching, or how to heal my failing relationship), I was also leaving behind some of the cultural worries you couldn’t help but absorb in the United States in 2002.

I was going to escape my American identity and cultural baggage. In Ireland I would reinvent myself completely.

No Escape?

Now that I’m a little bit older and a little more travel-savvy, I realize that my idea of complete escape and self-renewal was naive.

It’s true that I was temporarily able to detach myself from the personal decisions and messes I left behind in the U.S. For four months, I managed to ignore the aspects of my life back home that no one in Ireland knew about.

However, I soon found that escaping my cultural life and American identity in Ireland proved impossible from the outset.

From the moment I landed in Ireland and opened my mouth to ask directions, I revealed my nationality and, given the current state of world affairs, there was no denying my American roots.

In fact, now that I was a foreigner, I felt more American than ever, since in my own country I took this part of myself for granted.

A New York State Of Mind

In Ireland, when I told people I was from New York, sincere expressions of sympathy and empathy greeted me.

I made half-hearted attempts to explain that I was from upstate New York (like way, way upstate with farms and cows and no Bloomingdales) and had only visited the city a handful of times. A few weeks later when I had made some Irish friends I realized a good half of them had spent more time in New York City than I had.

But it didn’t matter. People heard New York and that was all it took.

Before then I had never really thought how citizens from other countries were affected by the terrorist attacks in America. I was so wrapped up in my own shock and sadness that I hadn’t given a sustained thought to the rest of the world.

That others were sympathetic to what I previously considered a wholly American trauma was not the only thing I learned as an American abroad. I also found out (and please stifle your giggles) that Americans are often considered loud and ignorant.

The idea that I might embody either of these traits to even a small degree truly flabbergasted me. And then I found something even more disturbing.

Apparently, even though we are an affable and fun-loving people, there are those (some might say many) out there who don’t like us, who, it might even be said, downright loath Americans.

Coming To Terms

Photo by La Petite Gourmande

I grappled with these revelations in different ways.

First I was surprised by what other people thought of Americans, the stereotypes and then, especially as time ticked further away from the immediate post 9/11 sympathy, the overt frustration and cynicism many expressed over the actions of the U.S. government leading up to the war in Iraq.

At the same time, I was meeting people from other countries who offered me wholly new perspectives on things like universal health care, affordable education and the consumptive lifestyles we in the U.S. tend to lead.

After getting over my initial shock, I began to experience something like betrayal. A lot of childhood messages instilled in me about being American – essentially that we do everything better than everyone else – started to ring false.

After surprise and betrayal came embarrassment and even denial. (Yes, I once or twice pretended to be Canadian).

After that came self-deprecation, heartily lamenting the state of my government alongside people from other countries and listening to diatribe after diatribe while I tried to convince people that Americans themselves, especially those who travel, were clearly distinguishable from George W. Bush.

Home Sweet Home?

When I returned home after two years, I was still in this weird place where I both knew that I was definitively American, but didn’t really want to be.

When I got off the plane in New York, I saw my own people through the eyes of the travelers I had met. We were loud and nosy and unaware of other people’s personal space. I felt more like a foreigner than ever.

But eventually, after I settled back into my life and reconnected with family and friends, I started to remember the good things about Americans as well–our chatty warmth, our willingness to make fools of ourselves, our desire to be better and to have a better country than we do now.

I also realized that I was the only one responsible for the way that I lived. If I wanted to, say, start a recycling program in my neighborhood, I could. If I wanted to enter politics and become an advocate for universal health care, I could.

And if I wanted to change perceptions about Americans by writing about my travels and continue to make connections with others around the world who also believed in the revelatory power of travel, I could do that too.

Making Peace With Myself

Somewhere in the months after I returned home, I stopped apologizing for things outside of my direct control, for my government and my politicians.

Instead, I looked for similarities between people and places and, when I began doing that, I started to feel better about who I was and my place in the world. Although I still struggle with my identity, I realized that I had to make peace with the American in me in order to move forward.

So I did. Mostly.

Do you struggle with your nationality abroad? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo by Bhollar

The Internet has made it much easier for writers to break into the world of publishing. As an aspiring writer myself, I’ve spent countless hours exploring every website imaginable, all of which promise the key to success.

Websites such as Matador Travel, Transitions Abroad, and EditRED provide opportunities to hone your journalistic endeavors.

But while the Internet is undeniably one of the greatest platforms a modern writer can use to promote their work, the debate between old-school traditionalists who prefer print and cyberspace junkies who preach the gospel of RSS still burns.

Many perceive the printed word as THE official medium for a writer.

This perception is largely due to the pervasive belief that the editorial standards of print media are higher than those of online alternatives.

This perception is incomplete, because many online outlets do have high editorial standards; in some cases, higher than the majority of print publications.

Even if your writing is accepted by an elite online publication, telling your friends about your accomplishment will rarely evoke gasps of admiration. The reputation of inconsistent online quality is just too hard to shake, because so much mediocre writing is freely available through e-zines, online communities and blogs.

The truth needs to be revealed: writing for the web is more than Myspace blog posts and personal “My Summer Holiday” narratives. There is excellent writing online, you just need to know where to look.

The Weakness Of Websites?

One argument put forth by the traditionalists is that websites present less detailed information and lack in-depth analysis, supposedly symptoms of the online media generation afflicted with a bad case of Attention Deficit Disorder.

Photo by Len-K-A

Instead of reading an article thoroughly, these web-savvy youth merely log on, scan a few paragraphs, get their facts, and scuttle off to the next site in search of pirated movies, music, and the latest Britney Spears upskirt photo.

In some ways, this criticism hits the mark. Reading online does not provide the tactile and leisurely pleasure of turning the pages of a morning paper over coffee and eggs.

However, many websites such as Drift Magazine, Terrain and Anderbo provide downloadable PDF versions that are designed to provide a more in-depth reading experience.

Many online articles also provide a full-on multimedia experience that goes beyond the simple act of reading and provides new ways for reader and writer to connect.

And greens take note: in this age of increased environmental awareness, reading online is also much friendlier for the environment. Digital magazines prevent unnecessary paper consumption and waste.

Editorial Opinions

Online media also provides immediate opportunities for reader involvement. Simmons B. Buntin, Editor of Terrain, says:

“Online publications have provided more real-time, what we might call ‘viral’ marketing or exposure opportunities. If you read something online that you like, all you need to do is send the link to a friend…newer web technologies allow us to rate writing, comment on it, track it, listen to it, promote it through our blogs, and in general share it with others at an exhilarating, if not mind-boggling, rate.”

The online medium has become indispensable for aspiring writers because they’re able to receive feedback and publicity for their work.

Websites such as The Rose and Thorn, Hack Writers, and Cafe Irreal, provide the possibility for writers to interact with their audience.

Furthermore, e-publishing is a great way to gain exposure, not just among fellow writers, but also to literary agents, editors, and publishing houses who can help writers make the transition from web to print.

Editor Sam North from Hackwriters attests to the fact that online work can be a useful tool for self-promotion:

“Writers gain exposure through writing on-line and some find editors who will take them up in print…many of our writers have had books commissioned from work on site.”

Authors like Rolf Potts, James Ogle, and Digby Beaumont got their start by publishing in e-zines and online communities, and have since moved on to print publications, although both continue to publish writing online.

Learning Where To Start

Many authors have gotten their start by joining online writing communities. This concept of a society of artists is not new. For decades, authors have formed social bonds that involve the free exchange of connections and ideas.

Examples of legendary icons who have taken this route to fame and fortune include Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg and their fellow beat poets, Ernest Hemingway and the Lost Generation in Europe, Henry Miller and Anais Nin, and Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.

One of the foremost websites that promote this concept is EditRED.com, which aspires to help writers get work published by exposing it within the online community.

In this ‘writers space,’ users are not only able to promote themselves, but can also provide feedback and support on each other’s work. EditRED is also a great space for self-promotion, because authors can advertise the books they’ve already published.

Sean Merrigan, editor and co-creator of EditRED, believes that the success and sustainability of both a writing website and aspiring authors is contingent on:

“…finding and keeping an interested audience. But I think beyond this simple formula, sustainability in any creative field involves finding a market or niche or community that is willing to participate, support and nurture talent. Editors need great writers, writers need great editors, both need an audience that is switched on to what is being presented to them. At the same time, audiences are ever more discerning.”

Show Me The Money

Screenshot of your beloved BNT.

However, if helpful sites such as EditRED.com aim to provide all the tools that a writer would need to become wildly successful, why aren’t there more successful online writers?

Alternatively, how do editors of quality websites achieve their sustainability without getting lost in the vast junkyard of blogs, sites, and ezines?

Simmons B. Buntin states: “the publication can be the impetus, but not the regulator.”

The tools, tricks, and the mechanics of publishing can be assisted by the website or community, but the real work begins and ends with the writer.

Buntin states the “responsibility of advancing work lies first and foremost with the writer…but the elements contain such things as hard work, perseverance, a thick skin, plenty of reading, plenty of writing, lots of submitting, an eye for detail, and no small amount of luck.”

Thus, the main way for writers to get work noticed and accepted is to produce quality pieces. Simple.

With so many ‘quick and easy’ schemes available on the net (as well as in print), it is easy to forget that the main job of the writer is to actually write well. The value of a website relies on the caliber of the written word.

Just like traditional writers, Barbara Quinn cautions that “…many people tell stories that aren’t interesting to anyone but themselves. Writers need to ask why would anyone want to read this? What makes this story stand out from the hundreds of others like it?”

Online magazines and writer communities won’t allow a mediocre writer to succeed, but they will grant good writers the possibility of success by allowing them to immediately expose their work to a wide audience.

A Changing Perception

Attitudes towards online media seem to be changing, and sites have been garnering greater attention from both readers and print publications. Online magazines, which many people initially thought of as a passing trend, seem to have become a permanent fixture.

Popular newspapers and magazines such as The New York Times and Newsweek have taken notice, building a major online presence with features such as blogs, podcasts, and videos.

With more and more companies, communities, and magazines expanding into cyberspace, the competition to produce quality content is fierce. Simmons B. Buntin asserts that the view of the public is changing and will continue to change “as more people find good literature online.”

With so many new technological innovations conceived and invented every day, readers, writers and editors all wonder: what’s next?

G.S. Evans from Cafe Irreal thinks that “some form of revolution in reading technology that would make it easier and more comfortable to read online publications” could combat the residual bias against cyberzines.

Simmons B. Buntin believes that websites that can be accessed through mobile devices, such as iPhones, and Amazon’s Kindle, are becoming increasingly necessary for success.

On a similar note, Sam North from Hackwriters believes that the future lies with magazines that move, allowing “some combination of sound, text, image…Performance readings and the like.”

Sean Merrigan looks to establishing closer ties between readers and writers:

“…the future holds greater interactivity between writers and readers; more debate, and more ideas. But this will be a collaborative process: editors need to ensure they promote quality writing; readers need to be demanding about what they want to read. This will be the key to greater legitimacy. In my opinion the sky is the limit.”

What do you think about the changing view of online writing? Share your thoughts in the comments!