Photo by tnarik

On the surface, the stories featured in this week’s edition of Tales From The Road don’t have much in common.

The slopes of Mt. Kenya are a long way from the clubs of Buenos Aires, and a hike to exhume corpses in the Sierra Nevada mountains of Colombia is a far cry from a day hike in the hills outside Seattle, Washington.

The common thread in these stories, aside from literary excellence, is a deep commitment to the story on the part of the authors. So much writing these days is either commercial fluff hammered out on a deadline or unreadable and self-indulgent crap.

What makes these stories rare and valuable is that the authors didn’t have to write them, but did anyway. There’s no ego, no hyperbole and no hidden agendas. The stories stand on their own merits, gifts from the authors, windows to the world.

Enjoy!

1. A Climb To Conquer Two Obstacles by Jeffrey Gettleman

In the aftermath of brutal violence in Kenya, a group of traumatized students bands together to conquer the heights of Mt. Kenya. This account of their triumphant journey by the terrific New York Times correspondent Jeffrey Gettleman is one of the most inspiring stories I’ve read in a long time.

2. Synths Of Resistance by Eve Hyman

For music hipsters, it doesn’t get much cooler than digital cumbia in Buenos Aires. This piece by Matador member Eve Hyman is a rapturous and intimate portrait of the BsAs music scene, the kind of story only an insider could produce.

3. Close To The Bone by Matthew Fishbane

This rather gruesome but beautifully crafted story of death in the Colombian jungle is captivating from the very first sentence:

I’m trudging down the lower slopes above the city of Santa Marta with a black plastic bag of human bones dangling like a scarf bundle from the handle of my shovel.

4. A Conflict Of Interest by U Shwe Yoe

The Irawaddy is the finest source of news and perspectives on Burma, but sadly the website has recently come under attack by the Burmese regime. It might be difficult to get this story to load, but it’s worth the effort for a candid, unguarded and literary peek into political discourse in the most repressive country in the world.

5. Mt. Si dayhike by David Miller

My friend and colleague David Miller has a little girl named Layla who just turned one year old. His simple blog post about hiking up a mountain with Layla overflows with the uniquely affecting love of a father for his baby girl.

BONUS! Check out my interview with David Miller, one of many interviews with travel writing personalities that you’ll find in the BNT archives.

Have you come across any great travel stories lately? Share in the comments!

On the road / Photo IrishFireside

In Ireland, the roads are lined with ivy-covered stone fences and sprinkled with livestock.

We’d rented a small car and my husband zoomed up and down hills with brash confidence, our teen-aged sons scrunched up and snoring in the backseat.

It was an unlikely place for thoughts of patriotism: a twisting, turning, narrow road under a green canopy in the hills of Ireland.

Patriotism is a slippery word in the United States. Dissent is linked to a lack of it, one’s choice of presidential candidate has become a litmus test for it, and the word itself is combustible.

Edward R. Murrow warned against this situation: “We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When the loyal opposition dies, I think the soul of America dies with it.”

During my travels, fielding questions about U.S. actions in the world had left me empty of a response. A fellow from New Zealand wondered why my country didn’t provide healthcare for all its citizens. A Parisian in her small, humble apartment asked why people in the U.S. feel they are what they own.

Why are Americans so fearful? Why behave inconsistent in the U.N.? Why refuse the Kyoto accords? Why break the Geneva Conventions? And…Iraq?

Failing Our Ideals

The United States is a force for peace, I answered in 2002. We care for our people and land in a way that would impress any New Zealander , I feebly explained. As time went on, my responses wavered; they did not correspond with reality.

We are confident but do not bully, I insisted weakly. Generosity exceeds greed, hope outweighs fear, compassion is more precious than consumption, and equality trumps injustice, I whispered.

I am not naïve enough to think America has always lived up to these ideals, but until the last few years, I thought we aimed for them.

The future ahead / Photo Jordi C

By the time I left for Ireland, the simplistic, shark-like twisting and turning of facts that characterizes political advertising was picking up speed, a sign of things to come.

As red fuschias, indigo hydrangeas, and green of all textures flashed by the open window close enough to touch, I turned the dial on the radio.

Lilting Irish voices cheerfully discussed sport, weather, and world affairs. The broadcast was full of news, analysis, intelligent questions and answers; the Irish version of NPR. I was impressed with the range and thoughtful treatment of issues.

Soon these lyrical voices began discussing Bair-ack Obama as if he were a hero in an Irish ballad. He, like JFK, had a pair-fect “combination of confidence and desirability.” “What will Obama do, then, when he becomes president?”

They believe he would restore America, in word and deed.

A Shared History

Gene Kerrigan of the Irish Independent newspaper: “What (Obama’s) victory could do is neutralize the toxic extremism that currently prevails. As president, John McCain will find new extremes and new wars. Obama has other priorities.”

As our car stalled for a cow crossing, I pondered the friendship between Ireland and the United States. Our histories are woven together as tightly as wool in an Irish sweater.

There are between 27 and 34 million citizens in the U.S. of Irish ancestry. Irish soldiers accounted for nearly half of Washington’s Continental army. We’ve traditionally helped Ireland in their struggle against British occupation.

I wondered what the Irish thought of our presence in Iraq: the $474 million U.S. embassy in Baghdad; the one in five people displaced by violence; the Iraqi death toll (estimates range from 100,000 to 1 million).

This “presence” must remind the Irish of you-bloody-well-know who. The Irish must be wondering, I thought, if we are friend or bully.

As the Irish American Writers and Artists Association put it, Barack Obama presents “the surest way to stop the destructive drift in our nation’s foreign and domestic policies, and return dignity, tolerance, compassion and intelligence to the White House.”

Ireland on Obama

My husband John was determined to “do” the entire West Coast of Ireland, so as we zipped around corners and zoomed past farmhouses, I had plenty of time to be mesmerized by the voices on the radio. Ahr-land was con-sairned over the price of petrol.

The ‘Happiness Guy’ (Eric Weiner, The Geography of Bliss) was interviewed: Ireland was high on the list of happiest countries.

Should there be a holiday to commemorate the famine? Would Bair-ack Obama get elected? The broadcast consistently bounced back to Barack.

On the day we sailed around the paved waves of the Ring of Kerry, I gazed out at the dancing, sparkling blue Atlantic Ocean. I heard a dim voice on the radio and turned it up.

“I know how much I love America. I know that for more than two centuries, we have strived – at great cost and great sacrifice – to form a more perfect union; to seek, with other nations, a more hopeful world.

Our allegiance has never been to any particular tribe or kingdom – indeed, every language is spoken in our country; every culture has left its imprint on ours; every point of view is expressed in our public squares.

What has always united us – what has always driven our people, what drew my father to America’s shores – is a set of ideals that speak to aspirations shared by all people; that we can live free from fear and free from want; that we can speak our minds and assemble with whomever we choose and worship as we please.”

It was Barack Obama speaking in Berlin, describing America to the world.

I felt my patriotism surge.

The engine revved, carrying the little car over the crest of a hill and straight towards the wide Atlantic Ocean, where across the shining sea was my country.

Community Connection!

Thinking of a trip to Ireland? Check out Ireland On A Budget over at MatadorTrips.com. And find out what 50 other bloggers from around the world think of the US election.

The Matador Team is proud to support Barack Obama. Please take a moment to read our official endorsement of Obama for President.

Photo by Marc Sebastian

So you finally did it. You moved back home. You gave up on your dreams of being a lifetime traveler in exchange for a pension, a steady paycheck, and a stable home environment.

Good for you. The only problem is, we both know it may not stick.

You can feel it already, can’t you? Not exactly a sense of loss, but rather, some part of you is being slowly diluted, your true self fading from a lack of stimulation.

Escape. Get out while you still can. Hit the road, and be grateful you pushed yourself.

How do you know when it’s time to go traveling?

10. Recycled Coffee Starts Tasting Good

You’ve become so complacent with your 9-to-5 cubicle job that that caffeinated mixture of grounds and office sweat is actually making your mouth water. You’re spending too much time staring at an LCD screen. Water cooler talk is fascinating to you.

GET OUT NOW, while you can still remember what sunlight feels like.

9. Celebrity Gossip is the Most Interesting Part of Your Day

Like celebrity gossip? It may be too late…

You watch too much TV. You have excuses for not reading books. You’re unchallenged and unfulfilled. The best way to break this? You need to feel uncomfortable in a totally new environment, do some volunteer work, meet people from different backgrounds. Carpe diem.

8. You Can’t Find Authentic Foreign Foods At Home

The Thai food in Boston isn’t nearly as spicy as you remembered it from Chang Mai. That Japanese fugu tastes more metallic than sweet. Some business executives have no problem driving hundreds of miles for a decent meal.

Although you should be hesitant to take a page from their books, food is a good motivator to cross the border. Satisfy those dormant taste buds.

7. You Got Dumped

Doesn’t have to be a dumping. Any traumatic event that makes you feel like you need a fresh start could work: your boyfriend cheated on you; you got fired; a close family member died; you’re about to get married and feel like one last blowout; a baby is on the way and will surely tie you to a domestic life.

Whatever the reason, you are in some kind of emotional upheaval that only exploration will cure.

6. You Talk With More People Abroad Than You Do At Home

Your friends from Germany on Facebook get more attention than those living a hundred feet away. Go and be a part of their lives again; you miss them, and hopefully they miss you.

5. Sick And Tired of Being Ignorant of World Affairs

“Hey man, did you hear about all this protesting in Thailand?”
“[A market in Iraq is] like a normal outdoor market in Indiana in the summer time.”
“What’s Mugabe done now?”
Stop listening to others describe it (assuming they even know what they’re talking about, i.e. quote #2). Go and live it.

4. You Have Too Much Money

Even bumper stickers need a vacation / Photo just.luc

Do not buy yourself a dozen iPods or blow it all on a 64,000 square foot mansion for one. You could help out a fellow traveler (perhaps one needing sponsorship for his Antarctica Marathon in 2010… shameless self-promotion), but really, go out into the world yourself, don’t just send your money into foreign markets.

3. The City Skyline Just Isn’t Doing It

The shades of grey towering over the horizon just don’t provide that same sense of excitement or visual stimulation as when you first arrived in the big city. You need a change…unfamiliar surroundings…a new city, a green mountain, endless ocean, ice, ice baby…whatever works for you.

2. Spite

Other people – boss, girlfriend, family – are telling you not to go, or even you can’t go. You’re a rebel. Traveling sounds like the best idea in the world when you’re forbidden to do it.

1. You Don’t Want to End up Like Those Guys in “The Bucket List”

You know: The Bucket List. Two old guys find out they’re dying. They do everything they can before they kick the bucket.

Instead, do it while you’re young and healthy. Keep it up. Maybe along the way you’ll discovery the secret of immortality and eternal youth, in which case, no worries, mate.

What are some other reasons you know it’s time to go traveling? Share in the comments!

Shooting the doc / Photo filmmakers

One of the biggest oil booms in U.S. history is now underway around the town of Stanley, North Dakota.

North Dakota doesn’t normally get a lot of attention, but last summer two young Matador members traveled to Stanley to make a film about the oil boom. The footage they shot is truly striking, and “Crude Independence” will no doubt be an important record of this moment in American history.

Filmmakers Noah Hutton and Sara Kendall recently chatted with BNT co-editor Tim Patterson about their experience shooting “Crude Independence” in boom-town North Dakota.

Tim: How did you initially decide to shoot a documentary in North Dakota?

Noah: I first heard about the oil boom in North Dakota when I read an article about it in the New York Times published in January. It was not a very lengthy piece but it caught my attention right away. I had a feeling there was a film to be made.

I was still on winter break from school so a few days later I flew from New York to Minneapolis, rented a car off of Craigslist because I wasn’t yet 21, and drove to the small town of Stanley, North Dakota.

After shooting some location footage and talking to farmers, oil workers, and local officials, I came back to the east coast and spent the spring raising money to make the film.

I knew from the moment I got out of the car in North Dakota that this was a story worth telling.

Sarah: How often do you have those conversations that start with the phrase, “Wouldn’t it be cool if…?”

It wasn’t until Noah called me on his way to North Dakota that I realized he was driven enough-and impulsive enough-to actually make this happen.

Later that semester I was awarded a research grant through my college to spend the month with him, helping him with the film while also working on a piece of creative nonfiction about our project.

Tim: Did you have an idea of the movie you wanted to make before you went, or did the story evolve in unexpected ways?

Oil pumper at sunset / Photo filmmakers

Noah: I knew I wanted to take a human angle on the oil boom– to explore how lives are changing because of the discovery of a resource so far below the surface.

I wanted to talk to farmers who own the rights to the minerals under their property, those that do not own their rights, the landmen researching mineral deeds in the county courthouse, and the oil workers themselves who crowd the bars, motels, and jails.

The unexpected evolution of the story was driven by the characters we met along the way. As much typecasting as we did ahead of time, we tried to be as open and flexible as possible to what unfolded while we were there.

We ended up finding some ecstatic moments– from a boisterous group interview with out-of-state oil workers behind a local bar to a late afternoon spent with local farmer and oil well owner John Warberg, who showed us the original wooden shack that his grandparents homesteaded in when they arrived with the first wave of Norwegian emigrants to North Dakota over one hundred years ago.

They never had a water well, but now the decayed windows look out upon Warberg’s oil well.

There were also memorable situations we created for ourselves, like the night Sara and I crawled through a wheat field to sneak footage of a drilling rig. There’s perhaps six seconds of that footage in the film but it was certainly worth the thrill.

Sara: Noah had articulated a pretty clear vision for the film, but it was based on the idea that our story would be driven, more than anything, by the experiences of people living and working in Stanley.

In that way, the project demanded a certain amount of flexibility that we found as exciting as it was maddening.

And while our initial vision never changed all that drastically, at some point our footage definitely started to take on a sense of authenticity and humanity-I’m picturing our friend Leroy, a landman, singing karaoke at the local bar and winking at our camera.

Moments like that were impossible to anticipate.

Tim: Sara, you grew up in Manhattan, and Noah, you’re a student at one of the more liberal colleges on the East Coast. Was there some culture shock to deal with in North Dakota? Were you able to really connect with locals and roughneck oil workers? How?

Noah: We anticipated a culture shock, but I can’t say it ever happened.

You have a beer, play some pool and sing some karaoke with the oil workers and all of a sudden where you’re from doesn’t matter–it’s about whether or not you’re willing to have a good time.

I have to say that the transparent and down-to-earth values of many of the people we met in North Dakota were very appealing to me.

It doesn’t take much to connect on a basic human level with honest people.

Sara: The disorientation I felt had more to do with the landscape than the culture, I think. The sky was bigger than I’d ever believed possible, and the winds were more severe. It was a geology stripped bare, and it couldn’t have felt further from the anonymity of a big city.

There was also a different culture of food, and at some point— I think after a few days of eating only chicken burgers and cheese burgers at the restaurant in town– I started to dream of fresh vegetables.

Tim: I’m not surprised you guys got along with the locals while shooting the film – that sense of unguarded authenticity really comes through in the trailer.

Another feeling I get from the trailer is an eerie sort of foreboding, often associated with the tools of oil production. No doubt your audience has very mixed feelings about energy companies like Halliburton, in light of global warming, oil wars and government corruption.

Did you have any assumptions about oil production when you arrived in North Dakota, and how did they evolve while making the movie?

Filmmakers Noah and Sam

Sara: That’s a complicated question. I definitely have a knee-jerk reaction to big name oil companies like Halliburton, and I can’t help but connect the sight of a drilling rig to the invisible structures of corporate greed and power so embedded in the oil industry.

But our goal was to focus on the social impact of the oil boom, the human experience on a local level, rather than taking any sort of overt political stance.

We learned quickly that holding onto a certain amount of neutrality would allow us to hear a much wider range of perspectives— I can’t tell you how many times we were asked if we were making an environmentalist movie, as if the e-word were some kind of slur.

So it was important to us that we approach people working for the oil companies as people effected by the boom rather than as characters through whom we could push an agenda.

Still, my general sense of corruption and gluttony in the oil industry went pretty unchallenged. We didn’t have the most positive relationships with oil company officials, who consistently ignored us or turned down our pleas for access to a drilling rig.

Although I left with an understanding of the growth and opportunities that come with a boom, I also have a more intimate sense of the possibility for economic collapse — the inevitable bust.

Noah: I don’t have anything to add to Sara’s last response. I think she nailed it.

Tim: What did you learn from the people of Stanley, North Dakota that you hope to communicate to the people who watch your film?

Noah: I have no generalizations to make about the people of Stanley, North Dakota, because everyone is handling this situation in their own specific way, and I think our film communicates that point.

The central issue of the film–what drove us to make it and what I hope people respond to–is the question of how a natural resource so far below can so dramatically affect life on the surface.

I can say generally that the people of Stanley were incredibly welcoming to us, and most were more than willing to give us interviews and show us around. I think the film reflects that welcoming spirit. We were able to include a very diverse collection of voices from the community.

Sara: Noah’s right. It made our job a bit more difficult, but it was impossible to generalize or simplify the range of voices we heard in Stanley.

Instead of trying to wrap things up into any one lesson or argument, we wanted to communicate the impossibility of doing exactly that. I think, in the end, it’s that embrace of multiplicity that will make viewers feel like they can relate to the community of people they see in the film.

On the other hand, we were asked by a few local residents in Stanley to convey one message in particular— that everyone should buy more canola oil— because canola is one of the main crops grown in western North Dakota.

Tim: Buy more canola oil, right on. Thanks for chatting guys, all of us at Matador can’t wait for the film.

Community Connection!

Do you have a question for the filmmakers? Please join the conversation by leaving a comment below, or check out Sara and Noah’s Matador profiles.

Photo Sissyboystud

One of the more unusual features of my new book is its “commentary track” endnotes, which comment on the ragged edges behind the creation of each tale.

Some of these endnotes detail information that was left out of a given story for various reasons; other endnotes examine the writing-process decisions that went into the story.

Last week, during my virtual book tour stop at Budget Travel’s “This Just In” blog, Sean O’Neill questioned me about the endnotes to Chapter 10, which amount to an extended rant in defense of backpacker culture.

Sean quoted a small portion of this rant, but what I’d like to do today is excerpt this endnote in full for the Brave New Traveler audience, simply to raise the issue of what backpackers have to offer the world of travel.

Just to give a little context, this endnote comes right after a chapter where I detail how I spent five days avoiding the pyramids in Egypt (and the potential letdown that sometimes come when you visit storied monuments) by gallivanting around Cairo with a ragtag bunch of backpackers from a budget flophouse called the Sultan Hotel.

The Excerpt:

For some reason, major media outlets see it fit to ridicule backpackers at regular intervals in the news cycle.

Buy Rolf’s New book “Marco Polo
Didn’t Go There”

Around the same time [this chapter was originally] published in Salon, one could find articles in Time and the New York Times bemoaning how watered-down independent travel had become.

The template for these articles was quite predictable:

Foreign-desk correspondent visits backpacker ghetto in Thailand (or India, or Guatemala) and observes information-age ironies and/or party scene; reporter then evokes supposed independent-travel ideals of the 1960’s and notes how today’s backpackers don’t live up to said ideals; reporter proceeds to quote Lonely Planet founder Tony Wheeler, cite tourism statistics, summarize perceived backpacker hypocrisies, and grandly declare independent travel to be irrelevant (or consumerist, or stone-cold dead).

This kind of story is the travel equivalent of those perennial op-ed pieces that use the latest demographic survey to conclude that young people are stupid, or morally lacking, or destined to destroy civilization.

And, just as “kids-these-days” op-eds are meant to convince older generations of their own virtue, “death-of-travel” articles essentially serve to reassure working stiffs that they aren’t missing anything by staying at home.

The Authentic Reality

In truth, backpacker culture is far more dynamic than reporters assume when they visit Goa or Panahajachel to shake down stoners for usable quotes.

Outside of the predictable traveler ghettos (which themselves aren’t as insipid as these articles let on), independent travelers distinguish themselves by their willingness to travel solo, to go slow, to embrace the unexpected and break out from the comfort-economy that isolates more well-heeled vacationers and expats.

Sure, backpackers are themselves a manifestation of mass tourism — and they have their own self-satisfied clichés — but they are generally going through a more life-affecting process than one would find on a standard travel holiday.

My experience at the Sultan Hotel is a good example. At one level my companions and I were indolent and impulsive in Cairo, skimming the surface of a culture as we cooked rabbits, ogled belly dancers, and swilled duty-free booze.

But most of us also studied Arabic and learned the rhythms of the neighborhood around Orabi Square; we attended Sunni mosques and Coptic churches; we lingered in teashops and made Egyptian friends.

Travel Mindfully

Travel mindfully / Photo Sanctu

Moreover, the Sultan Hotel (like many backpacker haunts) was a curiously class-free environment, where a Melbourne construction worker could hang out with a Pennsylvania Ivy Leaguer and an Egyptian fruit vendor in a spirit of mutual respect and curiosity.

Hassan the night clerk had trained as a lawyer, but he wasn’t bitter about working a lesser job while he waited for the slow wheels of Egyptian bureaucracy to provide him with a law position. For him, the Sultan was an international education in itself (not to mention a far-reaching networking opportunity).

It’s been eight years now since I stayed at the Sultan, and I’ve probably kept in touch with as many of the friends I made there as I have friends from high school.

A few of them are still traveling; most of them went home and became teachers, lawyers, carpenters, city planners, park rangers, social workers, and graphic designers.

All of which is to say that backpacker culture is far more diverse and engaged than its layabout stereotype would imply. Along with a stint as an expatriate, there are few other activities that — if approached mindfully — can sharpen the senses and tweak the perspective of someone who intends to leave home and experience the world.

***

Though this outtake essentially defends travel on the backpacker trail as a worthy endeavor, I welcome other perspectives and dissenting opinions.

What is your experience with the backpacker milieu? What do you find charming or annoying or telling about this type of travel?

Explore Rolf’s Book Tour

You can follow the rest of Rolf Potts’ virtual book tour online, or see him in person at one of 20 cities nationwide as he celebrates the release of Marco Polo Didn’t Go There (Travelers’ Tales, 2008).

We encourage you to ask for the book at your favorite local bookstore or Amazon.com, and follow Rolf’s tour diary at Gadling starting Sept 29th.

Tomorrow’s virtual book tour stop will be at Jaunted. To read yesterday’s tour stop, go to Matador Pulse.

Photo MillZero.com

I’m in Nicaragua, wearing a new swimsuit, paddling away from a deserted beach.

I graduated college with a hankering to travel. A contact in Nicaragua offered me free room and board to teach English, with a bonus of daily surf lessons.

For months, I made packing lists, contemplated footwear, compared backpack prices online, and dreamed of the person I would be on my adventure of a lifetime. I visited the local surf shop, perused the swimsuit section, and saw myself in the colorful posters lining the wall.

Toned women stood frozen emerging from perfect tubes, and I would be one of them.

Let me take a moment to count the ways in which my mind and body are not those of a surfer:

• I am a 6′1” female. I am almost the same size of a standard lady’s learner board. I have very long, uncoordinated legs.
• I have skinny, weak, long arms. Due to the length of my arms and their surpassing-normal weakness, I can do five full push-ups under the best of conditions, namely, on dry, unmoving land.
• In the vein of land unmoving, I am a runner. My coordination depends on a strong firm surface under my feet, rather than the rolling ocean.
• Big waves scare me. Drowning even more so.

Watch Out For Pastinaca!

Surfing has its own vocabulary, which eludes me in even my native language. Watch out for the pastinaca. It means stingray, and is a word indelibly seared in my memory.

Communication difficulties are more acute during surf lessons.

The moment a giant wave is crashing on you is not the time remember if mas atrás means to step forward or backwards, a tidbit of information which is the difference between nose-diving into the sand and staying above water.

I arrived in beautiful Nicaragua fully expecting to learn how to surf within my two-month stay.

We expect our travels to offer new opportunities for change and growth, so that the person who returns home is unrecognizable to the person who left. Perhaps this idea of reinventing one’s identity is why we travel.

However, the person we already are is a stubborn creature, more real and more durable than the glamorous fantasy person we hope our travels will grant us the chance to become.

“My mind and body were to prove temperamental accomplices in the mission of appreciating my destination,” says Alain de Button, in The Art of Travel.

Indeed, it is easy for us to forget ourselves-our mind and bodies-as we plan our escapades and anticipate a new self in a new place.

Endless Summer Dreams Deferred

Photo Pincheck

Weeks after my arrival in Nicarauga, I realized that learning how to surf was making me miserable.

There’s a fine line between the fear of giving-up and the fear of being an idiot. Travel should push us outside our comfort zone. We become brave through travel, and our most valuable experiences, those that change us, happen largely because of this bravado.

However, we should not forget ourselves in the excitement of travel.

We must remember who we are, what we want and what our minds and bodies are capable of achieving.

Here in Nicaragua, I am a single traveler confronting many other challenges apart from my aquatic adventures, namely being the sole and novice English teacher in a very small town.

Following My Own Path

For the moment, I have relinquished my grip on the surfboard and moved onto better pursuits, suited more to who I am and, more importantly, to the person I want to become.

When I finally evaluated the reasons I wanted to learn to surf, I saw that my motivation was a reaction to glamorous pictures and the expectation of what one should do on a beach in Nicaragua, rather than what I myself would find most enjoyable and fulfilling.

Colorful sunsets now find me running along my deserted beach rather than drowning in the ocean.

My creative energies are focused on teaching a challenging group of Nicaraguan students, a goal more congruent to the person I am and want to become.

Standing on a board in the water doesn’t seem so important anymore.

Have you found yourself struggling with experiences you believed were falsely valuable? Share in the comments!

McCain looking glum.

If elected, chances are that John McCain would preside over disasters far more bloody, expensive and misguided than those of President Bush.

McCain sees himself as a warrior, eager to go down fighting in a blaze of glory, destroying his enemies without mercy. He’s a gambler.

It’s easy to imagine McCain in the Oval Office, grumbling like Nixon after a bad day, ordering the Joint Chiefs to ‘bomb the enemy, wipe ‘em out, get the nukes ready, we’re going all-in.’

After witnessing one too many of McCain’s furious rages, a Republican Senator famously said, “I didn’t want this guy anywhere near a trigger.”

A Confused Old Fighter

John McCain’s eagerness to go to war is the wrong answer at a time when we need international cooperation to solve tough problems like terrorism, economic crisis, and climate change.

Even more troubling, however, is the fact that McCain is confused about the identity of the enemy.

McCain forgets who American troops are fighting against and where. He has an idea of some amorphous, terrifying and depraved enemy, and he’s willing to drop nuclear bombs to destroy that threat, but he doesn’t have a grasp of the real dangers of the 21st century.

John McCain is simply out of touch.

Economic cluelessness is just the tip of the iceberg.

Decades spent flying on his wife’s private plane from Washington meetings straight to one of his luxury vacation homes has kept McCain in a sheltered bubble of wealth.

All the man can do these days is stand in front of bright lights and say things like “The fundamentals of the economy are strong,” or “We’ve made great progress economically” under President Bush – clueless statements only a rich, corporate Republican could believe.

McCain’s economic policies are the same as those of President Bush. His economic adviser ran her company into the ground and then unashamedly collected over $20 million dollars. His big-money donors are old chums of President Bush.

“I Hate the Gooks”

McCain on the mic.

McCain’s experience as a prisoner of war in Vietnam is often cited as proof of his credentials. Sadly, his time in prison also made him hateful and prone to fits of rage.

Do we really want a President who stands by his statement “I hate the gooks” conducting diplomacy with Asia?

Does a man who allegedly calls his wife “you cunt” and “trollop” have the moral character to serve as President?

Incidentally, does anyone use the word “trollop” besides angry old aristocrats and English Lit. professors?

Bomb Bomb Bomb, Bomb Bomb Iran

John McCain is itching to start bombing.

America is blessed to have the best military in the world, but we must choose our battles wisely. As thousands of grieving American households know all too well, rash decisions and unnecessary wars have bloody and expensive consequences.

American bombing can save lives and create peace, as it did in Bosnia, or it can precipitate genocide, as it did in Cambodia. John McCain has made one thing clear: he will not hesitate to bomb countries regardless of whether or not they ever actually attacked America.

I’ve had too many friends die in Iraq to think more reckless bombing is a good idea.

Hope For Change

I’m confident Americans will elect Barack Obama in November. Obama is a true statesman with the potential to become the most inspirational president since JFK.

But I’m worried, because McCain is letting Bush political veterans run the sleaziest and most dishonest presidential campaign in modern history.

John McCain will go down fighting. Let’s hope he doesn’t get the chance to take America down with him.

Community Connection!

This is a critical moment in history. We must work hard to elect Barack Obama. Please, call your friends and family and tell them why their vote matters.

Are you traveling now? Please read 7 Things Americans Abroad Can Do For Obama.

If you haven’t already read up on Obama’s policies and character, please visit BarackObama.com.

Matador members believe they can change the world, and they’re out there doing it every day.

Sure, we publish the same sorts of articles you find in print publications, but these articles are just window-dressing. The editor in me cringes, but it’s true.

But no matter what we write, the most important part of Matador is the community. Whenever I need a little stoke, I browse Matador member profiles. I’m always awed by the sheer human optimism in this remarkable community.

Thank you so much for inspiring us.

Here are 10 incredible members of the Matador community. To meet the other 40 featured travelers, please follow the links at the bottom of this page.

Ricardo_emp

Before I die I’d like to:
It would be excellent to travel from the source of the Magdalena River to the Coast over 10 days…or hitch a ride illegally on the coal train from Colombia’s interior to the mines in Guajira.
Ricardo_emp’s full profile

Evan Thoreau

About me:
I’m a wanderer with deep roots and long branches.I’m a writer with an eye for detail, an ear for great stories, and a pen that just won’t rest. I’m a fanatic for international soccer, the perfect Mojito, foggy sea views, and spring dawns.

I love people and surround them in my life. As the late, great Bob Nesta Marley said, “My life is people. Without the people I am nothing.”

Evan Thoreau’s full profile

Mei-Ling McNamara

Why I travel:
To push the limits of my own ideas of security, knowledge, understanding and awareness. To avoid the constraints of conditioning and to learn through doing. To live in this world and to make it my responsibility to expose myself to all of it: the joyful, tragic, shocking and sublime.

Mei-Ling NcNamara’s full profile

Jenny Williams

Former national soccer player turned UC Berkeley folklore groupie and songwriter; quit a job in book publishing to travel in the Middle East, Africa, India, and Southeast Asia. I’m currently News Editor at Ethical Traveler and I also work as a freelance writer/developmental book editor/creative hack.

Jenny Williams full profile

DWB

I’m fired up on politics (particuarly the messy Middle Eastern kind), photography, and sitting around in cafes in the Arab world chatting.

DWB’s full profile

Delacouri

Why I travel:
in every way i just have to; the excitement the adventure the faces the smells the sounds as i fall asleep the airflights the views the unbelievably warming, swelling sensation in my stomach and the smile and joy that i cant suppress which bubbles up in laughter

Delacouri’s full profile

Andie

About me:
i contemplate the practicality of life vs. the spirit of change, hope, adventure and faith. It leaves me in a state of wonder…and wander.

I still am not sure if this nature of contemplation is a blessing or a curse….one thing for sure, it’s where my soul and mind meet.

Andie’s full profile

Jackfruit

Why I travel:
Oh, a long and scrolling list that is reinvented every time I do…but in a phrase, to make transience stay.

Jackfruit’s full profile

Kalil

I have an intense curiosity about the world, a skepticism about the portrayals of people I see in the media, and a yearning for adventure.

My real name is Kalil Cohen and I am currently in LA about to start a program at UCLA to get my master’s degree in education with a focus on social justice in urban education and bilingual (spanish) certification.

I like Matador because the site and people on it are interested in all the varied aspects of travel, not just where to go and how long to stay, but how to get to know local people and really experience another culture rather than traveling like a tourist.

Kalil’s full profile

Heidi Hillman

I am a bookslut, intrepid thinker and traveler, tree-hugging lover of nature, and tragicomic idealist with a penchant for Russian and Scandinavian films, Italian bicycles, independent bookshops, funky cafes, travel magazines and narratives, rivers, tall trees and tall men, dogwood and peonies, Mah Jongg, spoken Russian, rye bread and marmalade, artichokes, red wine, The Egyptian Book of the Dead, Rilke, and Sufi poetry …

Heidi’s full profile

To meet more Matador members, please follow the links below:

Travelers 1-10 at MatadorTrips.com
Travelers 21 – 30 at TheTravelersNotebook.com
Travelers 31 – 40 at MatadorStudy.com
Travelers 41 – 50 at Matador.org

Community Connection

These are only 50 out of thousands of travelers in our community. Who else should get a mention? Big them up in the comments, and if you haven’t yet, link up with us.