Apollo Belvedere / Photo: alun salt

“If life is a journey, then philosophy is like a compass. It helps us to find our way through the jungle of possibilities that life presents.”

With these words, Thomas Knierim articulates his reason for creating The Big View, a website with the goal of “rendering a bird’s eye perspective on various philosophical topics, hence, the name.” Topics as diverse as Space Time, Buddhism, and Greek Philosophy are all presented clearly…and more importantly, concisely.

I caught up with Thomas to discuss the site, the importance of cutting through noise on the web, and the growing realization that everything is connected.

The Interview

BNT: How has philosophy acted as a compass in your life?

THOMAS: I mentioned this because some people believe that philosophy is a boring academic pursuit or perhaps just mind acrobatics. This is a misconception. Philosophy deals with the big questions in life and these questions affect everyone. Philosophy informs us about our limitations and our possibilities.

Thomas Knierim, The Big View

In my case, it has provided me with insight into human nature and with good advice about which goals in life are worthy following. Most people seek happiness in external things, such as wealth, love affairs, lifestyle, adventures, etc., and they put an enormous amount of energy into these pursuits.

True happiness, however, is a state of mind, and as such it does not depend on external conditions. This sounds like a cliché, but it’s true.

Philosophy directs attention away from the external world to the inner world. It directs the attention towards the development of self-knowledge and perfection of mental qualities… which are difficult but worthy goals.

You currently live in Chiang Mai, Thailand. What effect has traveling and living in Southeast Asia had on your own Western worldview? On the other hand, what do you see are the pitfalls of only relying on Eastern ideas?

I am living in Thailand for 16 years, so the Buddhist worldview has shaped my own worldview. If you live in Thailand you are sort of forced to learn Buddhism, because you cannot really understand the Thai culture without understanding Buddhism.

There is also a notable Chinese influence, especially in Bangkok, where I lived before. To experience Asian culture first-hand is quite educating, as it sets things into perspective. Things that I once considered universally valid turned out to be just culturally conditioned. I found Eastern philosophies, especially Buddhism and Taoism, very deep and enriching.

The major trap, on the other hand, is to see Eastern ideas as silver bullets, or magical solutions. Westerners tend to either ignore Eastern ideas altogether or develop disproportionate reverence for them. I think it is always a bad idea to forgo critical analysis.

You also say “Most people with Internet access are familiar with the problem of information overload.” How does information overload affect a person’s ability to discern quality ideas and philosophical teachings from the noise?

The major challenge is probably not to get carried away. There is such an enormous amount of information out there and it is so easy to get lost. This is facilitated by the interactive nature of the Internet and its associativity brought about by the hyperlink.

It’s eerily similar to the way the human mind works. Just as you can get lost in a train of thought, you can get lost surfing web pages. I have observed this process in myself.

For example, when I start looking for a specific piece of information, I inevitably come across some link that sounds interesting. If I decide to follow that link and to dig deeper, I might end up watching a video or reading a page that has little or nothing to do with the initial quest.

Another problem is the sheer amount of information that is available on each topic, which forces us to learn how to select information by specificity, presentation and scope.

How did you decide what philosophies (and philosophers) to include on your site?

I simply chose the topics and philosophers that interested me. Some of the material about Greek philosophy goes back to the pre-Internet Bulletin-board era when I had more or less scholarly (probably less!) discussions with other people interested in ancient philosophy.

Buddha / Photo: dnc

In the physics section, I tried to put well-known science topics into a less rigid philosophical perspective. In the Buddhism section, I tried to create a straightforward introduction that is intelligible to Westerners without any background in Eastern thought.

I had studied Buddhism a few years earlier from a number of books that used complicated language and unfamiliar Pali and Sanskrit terms, so I wanted to avoid that as far as possible. In future, I’d like to add new section about formal logic, Indian philosophy and evolution theory, but unfortunately at this point I don’t have much free time.

I have to ask, since I’m sure it’s a question that has plagued many philosophy archives. In your opinion, why aren’t women philosophers better represented throughout history?

It is not all that surprising, because you could likewise ask why aren’t female politicians, artists, doctors or female scientists better represented throughout history, and the answer is the same.

Throughout the last few thousand years, the patriarchy has dominated human societies. Not every society was patriarchal of course, but the one that led up to present-day Western culture certainly was a patriarchy and a quite rigid one at that.

Women were simply not considered fit to exercise the named professions; they were given little opportunity, little attention, and little credit. They were rarely able to gain public recognition. You only need to look back 100 years in European history to recognize the grip of the patriarchy.

So the grounds for female artists, scientists, philosophers, etc. have been infertile for a really long time. Fortunately, this has changed.

“Everything is connected.” This theme applies to many great philosophies throughout history. Yet it also seems to be the unifying idea of our time: from string theory, to weather patterns, to foreign policy decisions. Do you think humans will fully understand and here’s the key apply this idea in our lifetime?

Yes, I think that people will at least develop an intuitive understanding of interconnectedness. Things have changed, especially due to advancing technology and globalization.

My kids are growing up in a world that is different from the world I grew up in. Today, there is the Internet, there is a global market, and there is an emerging global culture.

My kids are learning three native languages as they’re growing up. They are at home in Asia as well as in Europe. They eat Thai food, Japanese food, German food, whatever. Intuitively, they understand that they are connected to different cultures.

For them, interconnectedness and global thinking will be quite natural.

For more, visit The Big View.

What do you think the importance of “the big view”? Share your thoughts in the comments!

God is a popular topic these days. Most people seem to have an opinion on a) what God is, and b) who’s side he (or she) is on.

And thus arises the problem: how can God be on more than one team at the same time? If humans are the sort of species that don’t mind a few glaring illogical realities, than we’d probably get along just fine. Unfortunately, as most of us know, humans aren’t that sort of species.

Instead, it appears ever since the idea of God took hold, we’ve decided to fight about it. The only thing that’s changed is the size of our weapons and the stakes of the conflict.

Luckily, filmmaker Peter Rodger decided it’s time once and for all to explore how God is perceived around the world. The film, premiering this Friday in the US, is Oh My God.

Watch the trailer:

Suitably intrigued, I decided to interview Peter about the film, and his epic experience shooting around the world.

The Interview

BNT: What initially compelled you to start this film?

PETER RODGER: Frustration. I was amazed in a shrinking world of enhanced communication, mankind can be so seemingly narrow minded. There seems to be such a childish schoolyard mentality that permeates our world – I call it the “My God Is greater than your God syndrome.”

Where you have grown men flying airplanes into buildings shouting “God is Great”; where you have the leader of the free world telling the BBC in 2003 that he invaded Iraq because God told him to; where you have the constitution of a country (Iran) that dictates that its supreme leader is God’s representative on earth; where you have young men and women blowing themselves up (and innocent others) to buy a place into heaven.

None of these concepts made any sense to me, so I thought it was about time someone went around the world and asked people what this entity that goes by the name of God means to them.

Did you have any expectations on the journey and what you would learn?

No. I just knew I was going along for an interesting ride. I wanted to rid myself of expectation and see what the experience would throw at me. I had no idea what I would learn when I set out. I was far too concerned about how to make a film out of such a wide, sensitive and seemingly unanswerable question!

Your film features some stunning cinematography and editing – at times resembling a music video. How important was this aesthetic to the content and message of your film?

Filmmaker Peter Rodger

Extremely important. Another reason I had for making the film was to be able to go shoot without clients around my head – make a film where I wanted to point the camera and not because someone was paying me to point the camera. (I’ve directed many commercials!)

The aesthetic became extremely important. There is also a sub plot going on in the film. I wanted to shoot the earth with as much artistic integrity as possible – to wrap the audience in the amazingly diverse beauty that surrounds us – in the guise of a bucolic landscape or the look in a child’s eye.

To use a biblical phrase, the earth became the garden of Eden for me. If you want to explore the entity of God – then open your eyes, grab a camera and shoot it. Music played an enormous part in the process. Film is sound and vision. I would cut sequences with John Hoyt, my editor and then Alex Bubenheim would score to it – but in two instances in the film – we switched.

Alex had come with me on to Australia and Japan and had recorded all sorts of music/vibes/sounds etc that he incorporated into a track – so we cut to the track instead of vice versa – which gives you – as you said – a music video vibe in places. It’s a film full of amazing words and information – throwing 2 sequences into the mix like this has the effect of pulling you back and keeping a pace at the same time.

What were the challenges of travelling with a small crew? What are the advantages?

The challenges were a bad back and having to do EVERYTHING split between myself and my one crew member – Line Producer Patrick Ellis. But it is amazing what training does for you.

Masaii Tribesman

I learnt to put things back! Instead of just leaving a lens cap, or a filter somewhere for some assistant to deal with – I actually PUT IT AWAY! Amazing. It soon became that I could prepare the camera and prep to shoot in complete darkness without thinking, – just by knowing exactly where everything was.

The advantages for the film were amazing. We shot under the radar – no one would know we were making a theatrical movie. We slipped in and out of places, unseen, as tourists or NGO workers or whatever.

Once we walked into the Palestinian Parliamentary building one Thursday afternoon unannounced in Ramalah and got amazing stuff and a great interview with a Hamas leader. If we had a full crew – with assistants and production coordinators, translators and egos – we would have been arrested and locked up – especially as we didn’t have a permit.

In your opinion, why do people all over the world have a need to believe in God?

Because they don’t have the courage to believe in themselves. They have been conditioned to believe in something greater than the sum of all their parts. They are scared of death, and don’t know where they came from.

We are all just primitive little organisms on a big rock in a scary vacuum desperate to have something to hold onto. God, usually in the image of something, and mostly in the image of man, becomes a comfy thing to hold onto. The trouble starts when people hold on so hard they push other human beings away.

What Mankind has to learn is that there is room for us all.

Who were the people you met that appeared the most profoundly at peace? How did their understanding of God (or the divine) contribute towards their peace?

Zen Master Kanju Tanaka from Kyoto Japan. He was wonderful and made so much sense. Being a Zen master he rejects the concept of God. He believes that we are already in paradise – we are already here and conscious now because we have earned our place in paradise – here – already.

For some, life on earth is hell. It is up to the individual to have peace and realize that problems are self created and then even in the most dire situations with the right outlook and in-look we can learn to make our hell – heaven. That concept is very powerful.

At one point in the film, you make that connection that conflict is usually caused by two things: land and religion. I would argue even further – conflict at its core is never about religion. It’s about human insecurities cloaking themselves under religious guise. Do you feel in some ways the search to unite us in the common thread of belief detracts from the social and economic reasons behind world conflicts?

All wars are about money/land and most use religion as the excuse. Throw in emotion and you have a lethal cocktail. Good news is no news.

We are all guilty – filmmakers, journalists, readers and watchers – of that one. Nobody talks about the great charitable work each religious institution executes. They just talk about the guy that blew himself up, and the blood and turmoil he caused. No one mentions institutions like Rabbis and Imams for Peace – they just talk about katyusha rockets and walls.

When it comes to conflict it’s about the club in which people belong – that maim those that don’t belong. So the answer to your question is yes.

Who was the most surprising interview you conducted?

Christian Hernandez, the little boy with cancer. (I am very happy to say he went through a bone marrow transplant and is doing REALLY WELL and he came to a screening last week.) I asked him – “What is your greatest wish today?” His answer blew me away – but you have to go see the film to find out why!

By the end of the film, how did your perception of God change? And what was the most important insight you learned about yourself?

Oh boy! My perception of God melted from any human form into a much more powerful force – a glue if you like – that binds humanity together.

I think Jesus Christ was bang on when he said he was the son of God because I think we’re all the son of God. We are all right now collectively what a lot of people would refer to as God – the Anima Mundi – the reservoir of every thought that has ever taken place in the history of time.

And what was the most important insight I learned about myself? To learn to let go.

Oh My God opens this week. Check the website for showtimes.

What do you think about the diversity of God? Is it a concept humanity needs to let go? Or does it serve a binding purpose?

The grieving angel / Photo: Theodore Scott / Feature photo: L’enfant terrible

By most accounts, the state of the world is in dire shape. The collective madness of humanity seems unable and perhaps unwilling to change its destructive habits, both on the environment and each other.

But what if we could dig deep into our psyche, to understand the root causes of many of our behaviours on a psychological, spiritual, and cultural level?

That was the goal set forth by Patrick Shen, a documentary filmmaker who set out to uncover the source of “death anxiety” and how it influences our lives on a daily basis. The result: Flight From Death: The Quest For Immortality. (watch the trailer).

I caught up with Patrick to discuss the film, the nature of death anxiety, and how to make our own lives a work of art.

BNT: How did you come up with the concept for Flight From Death?

PATRICK SHEN: I stumbled upon Ernest Becker’s monumental, Pulitzer Prize-winning book Denial of Death one day at a used book store. I had never heard of it, but the title intrigued me and and I had been asking a lot of the same questions that, according to the back cover, this book seemed to address; so I picked it up.

I was totally awakened by it. Reading Denial of Death marked a major intellectual shift in my life. I wanted everyone to know about the ideas in this book and immediately began exploring the possibility of translating it into documentary form. Making the film and getting to explore it more in such an intense way, marked yet another major shift in my life.

You mention the shoot took 4 years. How did the length of the shoot impact your vision of the film? Further, how did you change from the beginning to the end?

The whole production, inclusive of post-production, took about four years. We shot the film over a period of about two and a half years. I remember feeling like the scope of the film kept expanding with every month that went by. The more time we had to think about the movie, the more we wanted to include in it and the more ambitious we became.

Director Patrick Shen

I love that one film critic in Australia would later refer to Flight from Death as “one of the most ambitious movies ever made.” Four years gave us a lot of time to painstakingly craft what is possibly the most thorough introduction to Becker’s ideas that our little brains could possibly muster at the time.

The events of 9/11/01 certainly had an impact on the vision of the film. 9/11 gave us an opportunity to examine Becker’s ideas within the context of a current event that the entire world was now discussing and attempting to process.

As devastated as we were, not to mention distraught over having lost a friend and fellow crew member that day, I knew we needed to act quickly to incorporate it into the movie.

In the film we focus on the work of three experimental social psychologists who created Terror Management Theory based on the ideas of Ernest Becker.

In a nutshell, the theory states that humans, in order to function properly in light of our impending death, need to feel like we are a significant participant in a meaningful worldview. Without the meaningful context within which we live out our lives, we are stripped of all things that make us feel human and must confront the possibility that we are no more significant than an ant or a fern.

Naturally, an attempt to weaken or to suggest that one’s worldview is invalid, is not taken lightly. At the time, the trio of psychologists had already conducted close to 300 experiments to substantiate this claim. After the events of 9/11, we found ourselves in the middle of a terror management theory experiment taking place on a grand scale.

It allowed us to show that Becker’s ideas were as relevant then as they were when Denial of Death was first published in 1973.

I changed pretty dramatically throughout the course of making the film. I began the journey of making Flight from Death with a predominantly academic and intellectual point of view. I was a man of scientific thought and logical inquiry and it was exactly those elements of Becker’s work that had resonated most with me initially.

Upon a closer and more honest investigation of Becker’s work, I began to see that he asks much more of us, beyond just a scientific approach, in our exploration of the problem of the human condition. Many people mistake Denial of Death for being an atheistic text – as I did in the beginning – and often use Becker’s ideas to bolster an atheistic point of view. Becker was not interested in debunking religion, though I think he probably had his doubts.

In fact, I think Becker was very curious about religion, judging by his documented correspondence with a priest for many years and his fondness for reading Psalms. In addition, Becker’s work borrows heavily from Kierkegaard, a devout Christian.

It’s very possible that Becker considered the religious solution as a viable means to combatting our anxiety. I’m not suggesting that we all run out and go to church, but I am suggesting that we approach the problem of death anxiety – of the human condition – with a multi-disciplinary approach, just as Becker had done with his work and just as we should approach all things so significant in scope.

You assert that all culture can be attributed to dealing with death anxiety. Can you elaborate further on your point?

From anthropology we learn that a culture, or shared set of beliefs about the nature of reality, is specific to a particular region or people group. There may be some underlying general commonalities (i.e. Most cultures have a creation story) but the particular beliefs and practices of one culture can differ significantly and often even appear contradictory to those of another.

Filming an interview

As the film points out, a gifted basketball player whom we shower with fame, fortune, and praise in the United States has much less relevance in another culture which might value more the ability to catch a fish or sustain hours of uninterrupted meditation. Success, or heroism, in one culture clearly does not necessarily translate to another.

Becker theorizes that it is our shared set of beliefs that make it possible for us to feel like we are significant participants in a meaningful universe and that without them, we are confronted with the possibility that we are nothing more than a living, breathing, decaying piece of meat no different than the next life form.

Culture then essentially elevates us beyond the physical world – and its limitations along with it (i.e. death) – and provides definition for our symbolic world, the world within which we truly live out our lives.

In the physical world, we’re doomed. We can’t win. We’ll die someday and there’s nothing we can do about it. Culture provides us the rules and the formula by which we can win, at least symbolically.

There are two general methods we employ to do this. Heroism is our attempt to transcend the natural order of things. When we achieve more than what others have, effectively transcending the natural order, we enter into the super-natural. The hero stands out amongst the crowd and achieves a sense of symbolic immortality for now he is more than just that decaying piece of meat and also stands a better chance at never being forgotten.

The other method is to immerse ourselves in a cause or belief system that is larger and more permanent than we are. Organisms often have a better chance at survival when they stick together (i.e. strength in numbers). As symbolic creatures, we do the same to survive.

The more people we surround ourselves with that believe the same things we do about the nature of reality, the more confident we can feel that what we believe is true. More importantly, when we are a part of something that will continue on long after we have gone, we too feel like a part of us will go on after we die.

Gabriel Byrne makes a poignant comment about how editing a film is made up of choices: such as a person walking, or a bird taking flight. He compares these disconnected moments as much like life itself. What are your thoughts on his comment?

I think what he meant was that life is inherent in everything around us. Our mental capacity as humans allows to see that life is an incredible phenomenon and if we take the time to notice it, there’s evidence of this phenomenon infused in every movement we make.

Some immortalists believe that science will eventually eliminate aging and death altogether. In the film, you insist that ending “natural death” may actually increase death anxiety, as we can never eliminate accidental death. What do you say to futurists like Ray Kurzweil who continue to pursue immortality through science?

I think it’s an interesting endeavor for sure and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what it would be like to live forever.

As you point out in your question however, the potential for us to be robbed of our immortality because of an accidental death is even more terrifying than if we are being robbed of say 50 years. I worry that if we have not found a way to constructively process our death anxiety then we aren’t ready to live forever.

In the film, there is a lot of evidence and experimental data to suggest that much of our aggressive behaviors and the violence in the world stems from our inability to reconcile with death anxiety. If this is true, what will happen if our death anxiety is increased even two-fold, let alone ten or twenty?

How has the film been your own attempt to deal with death anxiety? How has meeting your death head on affected your outlook on life?

Admittedly, this film and all films I make, serve a vital role for me in dealing with my own death anxiety. It is certainly my way of leaving my mark on the world.

Flight From Death / BUY DVD

It’s an attempt at heroism. It’s proof of my existence and that maybe I mattered in some way. The creative solution to the problem of death anxiety is an intriguing one. Van Gogh, and his longing to make his mark, left us with many great works of art.

I think transferring our anxieties onto creative works whether they are artistic endeavors or not, can be a very satisfying, and at the same time, constructive way to deal with death anxiety.

Making Flight from Death and dwelling on death for so many years both heightened my anxiety and at the same time soothed it. Because I’m perhaps more aware of death and how it lurks in every shadow and around every corner, I’m more careful. Because I now have a family, that awareness has heightened even more. It’s sometimes troubling how much it influences me.

The challenge for me is to take that anxiety and rather than let it discourage me from fully engaging the world around me, use it to fuel my passion for living.

I have developed a real passion for creating a masterpiece out of life, which is probably the ultimate creative endeavor. My level of appreciation for the opportunity to continuing living each day has evolved into a genuinely overwhelming sense of gratitude. A healthy awareness of death – surely a constant work-in-progress for us all – has given each moment in my life, on most days, a whole new dimension that is now impossible to ignore.

It struck me that much of what you call “death anxiety” in the film is really what Buddhists would call “ego death anxiety.” Further, Buddhists offer a concrete method, meditation, to transcend the ego and acheive a profound inner calm. I’m curious why you never explored this connection in the film?

It’s an intriguing solution for sure. We actually interviewed two Buddhists in the film, David Loy and a close friend of Becker’s, Ron Leifer.

In Buddhism as you might know there is this notion of “no self”. If our ego does not exist and if we can train ourselves to realize this through meditation and essentially disconnect from our-selves, there will be no death anxiety to contend with. I think the problem lies in the meditation.

To achieve that kind of discipline and consistency of focused (or should I say un-focused?) meditation can take most of us a lifetime to master. Also, the ego and the threat of losing our egos to death, has driven humanity to do great things, to innovate, and achieve great feats. What happens to this spirit of progress and creation when the ego is removed from the equation?

These are all really interesting things to continue discussing.We didn’t explore this nor any other religious solutions in the film because it would have required that the film be twice as long and twice as more expensive to make. It’s really deserving of its own film.

Why have humans continuously chosen a “life destroying illusion” for so many years? What is needed to shake us out of our collective dellusion?

Humans are a pretty immature form of life in the grand scheme of things. We’re like a five year-old being handed the keys to a Corvette.

Our brains are capable of incredible things that are both beautiful and horrific and we haven’t quite figured out how to stay out of trouble. We take the lives of others because we’ve convinced ourselves that killing is a viable means of solving our problems.

Generation after generation, we’ve inherited this belief. It is the animal inside the human that is merely trying to survive and dispose of any threats. If mice had the capacity to build a tank and an atom bomb, I’m sure there would be no cats left in the world. We are, as Freud calls it, a “sick animal”.

In my opinion, what needs to happen is a re-examination of our definition and our relationship with truth. To prove one set of beliefs more true than another is not only unknowable but un-winnable. We’ve tried that route and have created enemies out of one another and have left billions dead in our path.

Our notion of truth, or perhaps we should call it belief, is nothing more than an estimation of reality. There may sometimes be accurate estimations, but they are speculative nonetheless. What we believe to be true as five year-olds is not always the same as what we believe as 70 year-olds.

If belief can change, then belief cannot be absolutely true. It is as James Carse writes in his book The Religious Case Against Belief, “belief is not privileged over knowledge, it is fully open, unfinished, and tentative.”

In other words, truth is a work in progress. Rigid belief leaves no room for our worldviews to be inclusive of other people. We would all forever remain “the other” to one another each living within the context of our exclusive and flawed worldviews.

Learn more about the film at Flight From Death.

What do you think on death anxiety’s influence on each of us? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Community Connection

For further reading, check out an interview with Jason Silva on how science will make you live forever. Then explore Further Conversations On the end of death.

Sometimes, you just have to walk. With this idea mind, Christoph Rehage set out on November 9, 2007 with the goal of crossing 4646km through China. Almost every day, he snapped a photo to document the journey (and his beard growth).

After a year and roughly 4500km, in the desert of Gobi, Chris decided to stop walking. He boarded a plane, shaved his facial hair, and went home.

I caught up with Chris to talk about the journey, the biggest challenges, and the existential feeling every traveler has when they look at a snapshot of themselves “before” their life-altering experience.

BNT: What compelled you to go on this journey?

I am thinking about this question as well. I think it has to do with a spontaneous walk I did in 2003, from Paris to Bad Nenndorf in Germany. The memory has been with me ever since.

Why did you choose foot? What are the benefits of a walking journey?

It is nice to walk towards the horizon, not knowing what’s ahead. The good thing about walking is that it is a rather slow method of movement, so I imagine you have more time to take in more of the details on the way.

Did other famous (or non-famous) long-term foot travelers inspire your trip?

Well, my original walk from Paris to my home was inspired by an article I had read about the Roman armies, who had to walk all around their vast empire back then. That’s when I kind of got the idea. There are two more influential people though: the first one is early 19th century German traveler J.G. Seume, who traveled to Italy and did quite a bit of walking there.

The second and maybe more important one is German journalist M. Holzach, who walked around Germany in the early 80s – without a penny to his name, and wrote a brilliant book about it.

What were some of the biggest challenges of long-term travel on foot? What were your biggest surprises?

The challenges come in different stages, foot-pains being the first one. Then there are all kinds of different pains to follow, hopelessness and self-doubt being the most difficult to overcome. It sounds a bit tacky, but the biggest obstacle is always within ourselves.

You dedicate the film to Teacher Xie; how did you come across him and how did he influence your journey?

As fate would have it, we crossed paths somewhere in the Gobi desert, after I had already been walking for more than a half year. I was then to find out that he had already been walking for 26 years! Teacher Xie taught me something very valuable: “you set the rules yourself” he said, “and you are always free to change them. You only have to know what it is you want!”

You never completed your original route; does that affect your definition of a successful journey?

I don’t know. I have never really thought of it in terms of “success”, I guess.

At the end of your film, you ask the question “was it really me?” which can mean a number of things. What does it mean to you, and how have you changed from the person who started the journey?

I remember it very clearly, when I was about to start walking in Beijing, this whole thing had an immense importance to me. I was ready to put everything on the line for the walk, and I got into huge fights with my family over this. Looking back now, I think that maybe it had to be that way, but I am looking at that face on the starting day, and I recognize something strange in those eyes.

What’s the best part about having a wacky beard?

Finally a question that’s fun! Well, the best part about having a wacky beard is of course the look! I don’t think it made me very attractive at all, but I have always had a strong kind of sympathy for that goofy hairball in the mirror!

Read more about Christoph’s journey on his site The Longest Way.

Jamie in India

The first time I saw What About Me? at a Melbourne film festival, I was transfixed. This film that weaves world music together with heady topics on humanity is layered so thick, you can’t help but get lost in it.

It was put together by 1 Giant Leap — Jamie Catto and Duncan Bridgeman — over four years from material gathered from seven months on the road.

A few musicians and thinkers you’ll recognize straight away: Michael Stipe, KD Lang, Carlos Santana, Noam Chomsky, Stephen Fry. Yet there are many more you won’t, but will be touched by just as deeply or more.

It will leave you pondering and hungry to continue the conversation.

The Manifest Of One Giant Leap

“We need to collectively admit that we’re not fine, we’re not confident and balanced and good. We turn up to work every day pretending we’re not neurotic and obsessed and insatiable and full of doubt, and we waste so much energy keeping up this mutual pretense for each other because we think if people saw the truth, if people really knew what was going on in our heads, all the crazy truth of our dark appetites and self loathing, then we’d get rejected.

But in fact, the opposite is true. It’s when we dare to reveal the truth that we unwittingly give everyone else permission to do the same. To stop holding their breath for a moment and actually come into the room. Be here, present, vulnerable and authentic.

We’re on a mission to make self-reflection hip for just a moment, just long enough to save us. If we can all collectively acknowledge our insanity, shrug and roll our eyes at each other at how nuts it is being a human, let alone having to pretend every day that we’re ‘normal’, the amount of energy we’ll inherit that has been wasted on the mask will be enough to creatively solve any global crisis.”

The interview with Jamie Catto

It took some time, but I eventually connected with Jamie Catto over Skype.

While I was already in my PJs in Melbourne, he was busy cooking up a lunch of fish sticks and mashed potatoes for the kids in Spain. So over the din of crashing pots and chopping of food, we conversed about What About Me?

BNT: Jamie, this was quite the ambitious project. What possessed you to do it and how much support did you have?

It didn’t feel like such a huge thing when we decided to do it. The support that we had was everyone in the world, all the individuals in the countries who pointed us in the right directions, who said, “Oh, down there…there’s an amazing pagan ceremony on Sunday,” or, “over here, there’s a guy who plays cello like you wouldn’t believe…my sister knows his number.”

Photo: shyald

The biggest challenge — apart from the 7-month journey around the world to do it — is that you have to be on every single day.

You know, you’ve got three hours with Alanis Morisette, you’ve got 2 hours with Eckhart Tolle the next day, and every single time you’re with someone, especially a musician, you have to arrive, get on well with them, inspire them on one of the bits of music, compose something brilliant, AND get the perfect take before you have to leave.

To do that every single day, for 200 days, is a bit of a headfuck.

Was the end result what you and Duncan had envisioned at the start?

Certainly the idea of weaving together music and the images. When we first set out we had decided to make a thing called 2 Sides to Everything, which was going to be about duality.

But what ended up happening was, it became quite a boring subject after a while. There are only so many different ways you can say, “you can’t have happiness without sadness”. It became a bit of a one-trick pony.

Duncan and I, through the pressure of what was going on, really started having some problems between us. All our shadows started showing through, and so suddenly, the film began to be about that. All the hurdles to happiness, all the collective insanities, all the things that we deny each other.

It suddenly occurred — in post-production — what the film was really about, which was that we are all turning up to work everyday, having to pretend to each other that we’re fine, and everything is good; that we’re a winner and all these things — having to hide the fact that we’re all…total psychos.

So yeah, in that sense, it became very different than what we predicted. It started off as one thing and became…a mutual global acknowledgment of our unhappiness that we hide from each other.

Where did the idea to record artists in various parts of the world and mix them together come from?

When Duncan and I first met, we were talking a lot about world music, or music that wasn’t straight western, and we suddenly realized that we don’t really like many world music albums, but we love the artists on them, and that’s the key to the music of 1 Giant Leap.

We love Baba Maal’s singing, but we don’t often listen to a whole Baba Maal album.

We love this flute player, that drummer, this singer. We love all of them as players and singers, but we don’t really like what they do on their albums and we don’t really like what other world music fusion artists have done, by sampling one and just putting it with their beat.

We wanted to do fresh sections with these people and create something that got the best out of those artists without it being that world music formula.

So we wrote our kinds of backing tracks which are much more like melodic, Pink Floyd meets film music meets whatever…which is slightly more western, and then started having these guys as sessions rather than trying to do a world music fusion collabo.

50 locations in five continents over seven months. How did you decide where you were going to go?

Usually, for the most part, we made our decisions based on the music that we liked. So, like the big — what they call the royal drums — we knew those are in Ghana, so we went there…and Baba Maal is in Senegal…it was pretty much just chosen by who we wanted musically. Either the specific person, or the music type.

In Uganda we knew that they had a thing called…earth drums…we didn’t know what it was but we knew it was some sort of drum that was buried in the earth, and we thought, “well, let’s go and find that”.

It wasn’t until we got to Uganda that we discovered it was actually a marimba. It was an immense xylophone.

You’ve seen places and experienced things that I’m sure most people will never experience in their lives, including travelers. Can you talk a bit about any lessons you learned through dealing with locals and tribes?

There’s a great line in the first 1 Giant Leap film we did — an Indian philosopher said, “I like to talk to people as if I already know them.”

I think that is the key to all traveling. You know, don’t imagine that they’re not just like you. That is almost the point of the whole “one giant leap”, is that there’s so much more that unites us than divides us.

Everyone wants to sit down and give you their food, and everybody wants to introduce you to their kids, and their mum, and everybody wants to have a smile and sing a song.

It’s very easy to not get people’s backs up. If you’re present…just be present…be there…people are pretty much like you.

I’m curious, with a lot of the ideas that you’re mentioning, did they come out of your interviews?

No, I think it just comes from experience, and a lot of early Ram Dass reading. A lot of his work is about the masks that we wear and how dishonest we are with ourselves and others, and how we’re busy putting on the masks to be a somebody, or busy being a boss or policeman or a teacher.

Photo: exfordy

You know, like when you were in school, your favourite teachers were just really cool human beings who happened to be playing the role of teacher. And there were other ones that we didn’t get along with who were busy being a teacher. It really sums it up in all areas of life, from policeman to parents.

There are people who are naturally cool human beings, impeccably doing the role of parenting. There are others who are so busy being parents, and are so attached to that role, that the person gets evaporated and that’s where problems start arising and dishonesty happens.

And that’s when children start rebelling. They don’t rebel against their parents’ authentic qualities, they rebel against their parents’ fakeness. They see it’s not real, and they say, “that’s not for me.”

Thanks so much for your time and candidness, Jamie. One last question: What is 1 Giant Leap up to these days?

Duncan and I are doing a lot of projects separately at the moment, which is really exciting.

I have a new artist that’s coming out in Australia in February called Aluta and the Mystics. The girl that sings with Michael Stipe on the song “I’ve Seen Trouble”, in the Pain chapter, she is called Aluta, from South Africa.

I always thought I’d go back and do something with her…we decided to go with the same label that put 1 Giant Leap out in Australia — One World Music — and it’s coming out in February, called Aluta and the Mystics.

Learn more about the film What About Me? on their site, and view the 6-minute trailer here.

Community Connection

Check out another world music project Playing For Change.

Photo: Shelley Seale

Very few people haven’t heard of the Oscar-winning movie, Slumdog Millionaire. The story follows two young brothers as they grow up in and survive the slums of Mumbai, India.

In order to show the reality of life for poverty-stricken Indian children, many scenes in the movie were actually filmed in the Mumbai slums. But in true Hollywood fashion, the ending was heartwarming goodness. The ending for the real children of these slums is not so pretty.

Author Shelley Seale recently released the book, The Weight of Silence: Invisible Children of India, in order to tell the story of the children she met while volunteering in Indian orphanages. BNT spoke with her to find out the reality beyond the movie.

BNT: Due to the popularity of Slumdog Millionaire, millions of Westerners caught their first glimpse of what the slums of India look like. Also included was a storybook ending. What is the reality of the lives poor children are living in India?

Author Shelley Seale

SS: The movie, while a fictionalized account of two brothers trapped in the slums of Mumbai, orphaned and victimized, portrays all too well the actual reality of millions of children in India.

Currently 25 MILLION children there live without homes or families of their own – in orphanages, slums, railway stations or on the streets. They are highly vulnerable to abuse, harassment, HIV/AIDS, and being trafficked into child labor if they’re lucky – brothels if they’re not.

Based on what I’ve seen over three years traveling the country and researching the book, the movie was sometimes very difficult to watch – because everything that happened to those boys, I have seen the real life accounts far too many times.

However, the child actors were incredible and like everyone, I loved the magical, feel-good ending. But I also hope desperately that we will not forget that there IS no such fairytale ending for millions of Indian children in similar circumstances.

What made you decide you wanted to help these children, and how did you figure out the best way to go about doing just that?

When I visited India for the first time, in March 2005 on a volunteer trip to an orphanage where 120 children lived, I assumed the kids there were all orphans in the true sense of the word – their parents had died. Instead, I was shocked by how many of them had been “orphaned” by poverty; their parents had left them at the Miracle Foundation home because they were too poor to feed them.

As I got to know the children and the stories behind how each of them had wound up in the orphanage, I decided to begin writing a book about their lives in order to give them a voice. They, and the millions of others just like them (or in far worse conditions), really are invisible for the most part, in their society and to the world. My goal was to provide a strong and hopeful voice that would let their stories be heard.

Does your book mostly discuss your own personal journey in getting to know and understand the children’s situations, or do you also talk about the larger picture of what local and foreign governments are doing to alleviate poverty?

Both. I tried to weave together both aspects – individual children’s stories and lives alongside my experiences with them and journeys throughout India; alongside the bigger picture of the issues that affect them such as poverty, child labor and trafficking, abuse, AIDS and other diseases.

I conducted an incredible amount of research while working on this book, and I try to weave in small bits of that information as I tell the personal stories of these kids.

Have you come up against any barriers, distrust, or even anger from Indians either living in India or in the West due to the fact that you are a white, Western woman taking on this cause?

Some of the children Seale met on her trips

I have some, but not too much. For the most part everyone has been incredibly supportive, both Indian and non-Indian.

However, occasionally I do get comments online or people who question me as to why I don’t “help my own slumdogs,” or questioning whether I’m aware that children in need, poverty and other social ills exist in my own country.

Well, of course I know this. In fact, I have been a huge advocate for children’s rights in the US for many years before I ever got involved in India. I know we have children in need here, and we also have vast problems with poverty and homelessness, and I care about these issues and work on them here, too.

But I don’t think it really matters where a person lives – all lives are equal, here and India and everywhere. I guess I don’t understand why it should matter if they are Indian or American, or any other nationality.

I will say that I am very aware of being a Westerner writing about India and problems there, and I try to be extremely sensitive about that. We should come to listen, to learn, to assist where and when asked; and so the goal of this book is simply to allow us to hear what those voices have to say.

You commented on the BNT piece about the “Incredible India” branding campaign geared toward high-end tourism. Do you think it is possible that this type of campaign could actually help money trickle down to the children living in the slums?

I do think so, if it’s done the right way. I personally feel that, as with everything related to tourism, the initiatives into this side of a local culture depend entirely on how they are done and what kinds of people are conducting them.

Yes, I think it could be very exploitative, if you are talking about a tour leader who takes people around to basically gawk at people living in slums or on the streets. I think that’s the image that comes to mind when people refer to “poorism.”

But it can be done right. It can be done in a way that involved local people who are living and working in their own communities, and they want to cross cultural divides to truly introduce visitors to all the aspects of their home.

I myself went on such a tour in 2007, with Deepa Krishnan of Mumbai Magic tour company. They provide schooling for kids living in slum communities, and Deepa donates a third of her company’s profits to the organization.

Deepa took me to Dharavi, the slum where much of Slumdog Millionaire, and introduced me to women making pappadam bread while their toddlers hopped around them, and men making clay pottery by the hundreds. Dharavi gave me a resounding rebuttal to the myth that poverty is the result of laziness. I have never seen people work so hard in all my life.

How would you like to see the situation change in say the next 5 years, and do you think it is truly possible for the slums to be significantly reduced?

I don’t have any particular expertise on such large-scale urban planning, so all I know is my own personal experience and opinion. I’m not so sure the so-called slums should necessarily be significantly reduced, because where would all those people go?

I have been in India many times when I have read stories in the morning newspaper about slum dwellers who were basically left homeless when their communities were torn down.

Personally, I feel that more support and services should be made available to these communities and citizens, so that their living conditions could be improved and their children can go to school. But again, I’m not an urban planner and I don’t know what all is involved with this.

Can you tell our readers, many of whom have been or are planning to go to India and also consider themselves conscious travelers, what they can do to lend a hand?

Happiness is a part of the picture

There are all kinds of cool ways that people can lend a hand, whether they’re going to India or from their own homes – and the good news is that they range from the really easy and short-term to longer and more involved!

If you’re traveling to India, there’s an amazing organization called Stuff Your Rucksack.

They act as a middleman between organizations all over the world that need materials and supplies, and travelers who might have a little extra room in their baggage and can take such items.

I also have a list of donation and volunteer points on my website. Here I list all of the organizations that I, personally, visited and interviewed for this book. Travelers can also check out websites such as Global Volunteers and Global Vision International.

At home, people can do anything from sponsoring a child through Miracle Foundation or World Vision India; to signing petitions to protect child rights at places such as Global March. Consumers can also be aware of where products are coming from, and make sure they are not made using child slave labor. One good resource is Better World Shopper.

How do you feel about the author’s perspective on the slums of India? Share your thoughts below.

Photo: justsallyrye

Far from the random rocket fire of Kandahar, warriors of the United States armed force fight a different war.

This ongoing battle—fought between our own shores—is one of mistrust and misinformation that often leaves disabled veterans without the care promised to them by the Government they served.

For many, such as Jonathan Schulze, this denial of care can prove disastrous.

Tim Cleveland is an Emmy-award winning sound producer, paraplegic, and—most importantly— an avid traveler/adventurer who has set out to draw attention to the plight of these veterans through a documentary “Uniting the Divide”.

The efforts of the Uniting the Divide team seek to transcend typical rhetoric surrounding a system that has consistently refused necessary care to the soldiers who risked their lives for this nation.

The documentary plans to place the stories of wounded veterans into the context of an all-expenses-paid, mostly off-pavement motorcycle journey down the Continental Divide.

Jacob interviewed Tim for BNT, and was impressed by Cleveland’s responses that seem to transcend the tireless arguing that occurs in the halls of Congress, and seems to focus more on the power of the human spirit.

BNT: What kind of challenges—aesthetically—do you anticipate when capturing the simultaneous beauty of nature and the human spirit while on the move?

Uniting the Divide Team / Photo: UTD

TC: The challenges are many. Any type of film, whether it be a documentary or a dramatic piece, lends one very limited screen time in which to convey a story.

Our film’s focus is the story of soldiers coming together, sharing their story with us while helping each other through the challenges that they face. The amazing scenery that we will be traveling through adds a unique backdrop for their personal journey but must not overshadow the importance of their reasoning for being in the film.

There should most certainly be a balance of telling these disabled veterans stories and giving the audience the amazing perspective of traveling down the heart of America.

When did the idea for this documentary first form?

The idea first came to me about 4 years ago. At the time there wasrhetoric flying around that “if you don’t support the war, you don’t support the troops.”

I found that utter non-sense. Everyone I spoke with, whether they supported the war or not, were concerned about the soldiers who were actually there. Then I realized that “supporting the troops” really is about action, not just words. I wanted to show my support for them by helping them in any way I could.

Additionally, even though I am not a veteran I do have a disability (I’m a paraplegic) and I could relate to what some of them are experiencing upon their return. I do not claim to share the mental aspect of experiencing war, but I do share the experience of living life with a disability.

After doing some research on what the soldiers went through while deployed and when they returned home, I knew that I needed to do something. Their voices and their stories needed to be heard.

The idea then came to me that I should do something for them, to show the world that those numbers that we heard every night in the news were real people with real families. I thought the best way to do that would be through a documentary.

Why the Continental Divide, as opposed to, say, Route 66, I-90 from Seattle to Boston, 101 on the West Coast, HWY 17 on the East Coast, etc.?

The Continental Divide route is a unique trip developed by the Adventure Cycling Association. It travels from Canada to Mexico off road, or more accurately off pavement.

One of the most important reasons we chose this route is because it travels right through the middle of America. A larger number of soldiers who fight for our country come from Middle America. 80% of the route is on dirt roads through some of the most beautiful and remote regions of the United States.

Few people ever see these areas, especially people with disabilities. We want to show them that almost anything is possible for a disabled individual. We want to show these soldiers the country that they sacrificed so much for. It also is symbolic of our nation. The country has been divided over this war, but united in their vocal support for the troops.

BNT: What do you see as the biggest problem in the adequate treatment and care of veterans disabled during service to the U.S. armed forces?

Troops look on / Photo: Army.mil

Where do I begin? There are so many flaws in this system. Many government investigation committees and commissions have discussed this for almost 90 years. Solutions have been found, but rarely implemented.

To me, the biggest problem is the adversarial conduct of the Department of Veterans Affairs (DVA). The veteran is presumed guilty of trying to defraud the agency instead of just seeking the benefits they were guaranteed when they join the military.

Claims are routinely denied. It takes about 3 months for a claim to be considered by the DVA. If it is denied, the appeals process takes on average 4 years.

It is very sad that some of these veterans survived the horrors of war only to die when they return home while waiting for treatment. The system is grossly under funded and the staff are not only overworked, but under trained. The typical claims person for the DVA has to clear 16 cases from their desk per day.

The case backlog of pending claims is currently over 1.7 million. At the hospitals the doctor to patient ratio is 1 doctor to over 500 veterans. The files are routinely “lost”. A veteran has to prove that his injury is service related over and over. If the DVA and the Department of Defense (DoD) shared their records the veterans would not have to prove that their injuries were service related.

What kinds of prioritization are you placing on the selection of documentary candidates?

Docs have limited budgets and limited screen time once they are completed. Our process is nowhere perfect, but we are looking to get a nice cross section of individuals who represent many American archetypes. We will select wounded warriors with different disabilities and stories.

Our intention is to share more stories on our website from the other soldiers who applied for the trip, but were unfortunately are unable to go. Ultimately, no one will be left out.

Do you feel that we, as civilians, have a right to question the finer points of any veteran’s claims to service? Do you think that civilian Department of Veterans Affairs (DVA) doctors are faced with a similar fear when questioning potentially fraudulent claims?

My feelings regarding veteran’s claims are my own and will not be a part of this film. That being said, I personally believe that we as civilians do not know enough of what a soldier actually goes through while at war or when they return home.

Those “finer points” have to be carefully analyzed by the experts, and when I say experts I certainly do not mean politicians. Doctors and expert therapists can only make that determination. But their decision cannot and should not be based on saving the DVA money; it should be based on real diagnosis and the real facts of each case.

I believe that when a society asks an individual to risk their lives for the “greater good” (I feel this applies to the police and firefighters as well) it must accept the cost of whatever the outcome might be. As civilians we face challenges in our lives, but nothing like what a soldier, the police and firefighters face everyday.

Yes, fraudulent claims happen, but we should not be so focused on them that we deny legitimate claims out of that concern within the bureaucracy. In our legal system we are theoretically innocent until proven guilty. This approach should most definitely apply to veterans as well.

What kind impact do you think/hope private funds can do for a problem that seems predominantly federal in nature?

The goal of “Uniting the Divide” is to put a human face on the statistics that are bantered around everyday. These are real people–sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands, cousins, nieces and nephews.

The wars have shattered their lives and the lives of their families. “WE THE PEOPLE of the UNITED States of America” have the power to change these issues with our votes and help ease the pain while change is taking place. We want to help and show the rest of the USA that “supporting the troops” is really about taking action.

Whether it be raising funds for Veterans organizations and/or donating your time writing letters to Senators and Congressmen. We must stop the rhetoric and unite behind this important cause to facilitate change. We hope to give back in anyway possible to these courageous veterans that sacrificed so much and are asking for so little in return.

Our hope in sustaining the spirit of the film is to permanently setup a fund that will annually gather disabled vets and give them the opportunity to travel down the Continental Divide.

What are your thoughts on the doc and veterans care after returning home? Share your thoughts in the comments!

U.S. Army Sgt. Robert Newman watches the sunrise near Zabul, Afghanistan / Photo: armymil

Karen Schaler is the author of Travel Therapy: Where Do You Need to Go? A former embedded war correspondent in Afghanistan, she’s experienced the highs and lows of travel.

I asked her how to get the most out of your next vacation.

Schaler: It’s all about changing your attitude by changing your environment. By using travel therapy, visiting different destinations can help you deal with what you’re going through in life.

Whether you’re going through a breakup, lost your job, stressed out, looking for a way to add some sizzle to your relationship or re-invent yourself you can use travel therapy to make sure you’re picking the trip that’s best for you based on what you need and want.

Q: Where did the idea come from?

Author Karen Scaler

I personally have been using travel as my therapy for years to not only help me get through the tough times but to also celebrate special occasions.

I got the idea after I returned from working as an embedded war television correspondent in Afghanistan. I was going to the gym when I was grumbling about something insignificant and said out loud, “I need to get on a plane, I need some travel therapy.” It was like –bam.

I had been using the concept for years but had never put it into words. I knew I had to write about it so I could share the idea and hopefully help others pick vacations and special trips matching their emotions.

So I finished the documentary I was working on about Afghanistan and quit my television career of more than 15 years. I knew there was more I could do and contribute so I cashed in my 401K and starting traveling and doing the research for the book.

Q: At a time like this, when travel — especially air travel in the United States — is awful, shouldn’t people be staying home when they want any kind of therapy?

It all depends on your personality and where your head and heart is.

With travel therapy, there isn’t one answer that fits everyone, or one trip that has the answers. It’s all about picking a trip that fits what you personally need, not your best friend, or your neighbor, but you.

For some people, getting on a plane and getting away is exhilarating and liberating and they barely notice the delays and travel headaches. While for others even the idea of air travel gives them hives.

Q: How do you know what trips to pick?

Not every trip is for everyone. In the book in each chapter there are fun, simple quizzes that help you narrow down the trips that are best for you. That way, you’re not just picking any random trip and ending up disappointed with your destination.

Q: Where should people not go if they’re looking for a therapeutic travel experience?

Again, this depends on your personality and what you’re looking for. In the book, each chapter has a section called DO NOT ENTER giving you a list of places you shouldn’t go.

Q: For example?

If you’re looking for a romantic escape, you don’t want to go to a family friendly resort where you have screaming kids killing your quiet time. However, if you’re looking to reconnect with your kids then a family friendly choice is the perfect option.

Key to remember is one person’s idea of travel therapy could be another person’s nightmare. You need to pick the trip that’s right for you.

Q: Where is the most therapeutic destination for you?

This answer changes depending on what I’m going through in life. When I was uninspired at work and looking for a challenge traveling and reporting in Afghanistan was the perfect place because it helped me realize life is short and never to settle.

When I was searching for a way to re-invent myself I found volunteering at an orphanage in Malawi was a life changing experience that helped me gain perspective and appreciation for everything I have.

When I want to really spend quality time with a boyfriend, I love sailing because I can truly disconnect with the world and reconnect with who I am with.

Honestly, I find anytime I can travel and experience new place and meet new people I’m happy and thankful for each moment I have on the trip and can’t wait to write about it and share it with others. I really do love it that much. Good thing I’m a travel writer, right?

Q: Absolutely. So what advice would you have for those of us who are disillusioned by travel, who would really rather stay home? Can we be rehabilitated?:

Hummm…let’s see, what are you going to find at home. The same o’ll same o’ll? How has that worked for you so far? If your answer is “not so great” then get off the couch, turn off the TV, and pry your fingers off your BlackBerrys.

There’s a whole world out there waiting for you to explore. Anyone can change, you just need to take the first step and planning the right trip is key and can help you find your way in more ways than one!

Q: I want to ask you about when therapy goes wrong. Has that ever happened to you? What can you do about it?

Of course we’ve all taken the wrong trips. It happens when you don’t spend the time doing your research and you come home disappointed and disillusioned.

Making sure this doesn’t happen was one of the inspirations behind writing this book. In this economy, you can’t afford to take the wrong trip, so I wanted to have one compressive book that helps you plan a trip and get it right the first time so you’re not wasting your valuable time and money.

In the rare case if you researched and planned and you still find yourself on the wrong trip try and think outside the box and be flexible. Spend time thinking about what you can change to make it better instead of just complaining about what’s wrong.

Q: Some therapies in the medical field have been discredited, like leeches and lobotomies. Convince me that this isn’t just another faddish cure that will go the way of transcranial electroshock.

Travel therapy will never be a faddish cure because the benefits from travel are timeless. It will never go away because there is a whole world to explore and once you get started it’s hard to stop.

When people complain to me about something like being stressed out or sad about a breakup, I like to say, “Take two trips then call me in the morning.”

Of course there is never one cure that works for everyone, but I’ve heard amazing stories from the travelers and therapist I have interviewed about how travel changed their lives. I know it has changed mine.

Check out more Karen Schaler’s on her website.

What do you think – can travel act as therapy? Share your thoughts in the comments!

A Navajo Girl in the Mexican desert / Photo: Wolfgang Staudt

Stephanie Elizondo Griest aptly describes herself as a “globe-trotting nomad,” having traveled through more than 30 countries and 47 of the United States.

Her extensive travels have included stints hanging with the Russian Mafiya in Moscow and editing the English language propaganda of the Chinese Communist Party in Beijing.

Until recently, Griest was unfamiliar with the language, country, and culture of her ancesters, Mexico.

She documented her experience moving to Mexico to study Spanish and explore the country she had long overlooked in her book Mexican Enough: My Life between the Borderlines and speaks with Valerie Ng about the importance of motherland travel.

BNT: You concluded your first book, “Around the Bloc,” by mentioning that you had neglected to learn Spanish and acquaint yourself with Mexico, the country of your ancestors, despite having made your way through so many other countries around the world. Was “Mexican Enough” a continuation of that book?

Stephanie Elizondo Griest

SEG: Absolutely, it was very much a continuation. It was like a prequel, and it would be good to read “Around the Bloc” before “Mexican Enough,” as I took the long road (to the motherland).

By going to those other places I realized how much I wanted to go to Mexico.

I had met so many incredible individuals in Russia and China who had made sacrifices for their culture, like risking imprisonment for printing newspapers in their native languages, and even met some people whose parents had been sent to the gulag.

I also realized that some of the things that had happened in the Soviet Union had happened here (in the United States). South Texas used to be a part of Mexico not so long ago, and my mom, aunts, and uncles suffered discrimination for speaking Spanish.

By being there it was easy to look at another nation’s policies and think that what they did could only happen in a faraway place, and then you look at the policies of your own nation, and realize that some of those things happened in the U.S., and that was a big eye-opening experience for me.

It took a few years for me to work up the courage to get to Mexico, which began in 2005.

You were born and raised a biracial, third-generation Mexican American in South Texas. Were you exposed to much Mexican or Spanish-speaking culture while you were growing up?

I grew up close to the border (in Corpus Christi), and I remember eating tortillas at the huge gatherings that my family had. But I didn’t grow up speaking Spanish.

I think this is changing today, but when my generation was growing up in the 80s in Texas, which is a really big, really proud state, Mexico was considered the enemy in my Texas history class.

We were taught that the Mexicans had to get out of the land so that the explorers could take over, to carry out their Manifest Destiny as true blue patriots. But the Mexicans wanted to take over the colony that was their country to begin with, and our history class portrayed the opposite of that.

Destinations

Community Connection to Mexico

If I hadn’t gone to college, taken Chicano politics classes, and read Howard Zinn, I would never have known the real story of the Alamo and Davy Crockett.

That inspired me to join an organization called The Odyssey from 2000 to 2001, a diverse group of people that spent a year traveling around the United States covering U.S. history that’s generally left untold.

We followed Howard Zinn’s “A People’s History of the United States,” and had an audience of 500,000 students all over the world that read along.

We wrote about history from the perspectives that are generally not taught in the classroom, which I did not grow up learning, and we were able to reach students who might not see those perspectives of history.

What were your experiences traveling in Mexico with your family? Did you appreciate those early visits and did they make you want to see more of the country?

When I was little we would travel to border towns. I had never seen poverty until I saw it in Mexico, and I would hand out money to everyone I could. But bordertowns are not really Mexico.

If you ask Mexicans, they will say they are too American, and Americans will think they are too Mexican. Plus, violence is a problem there, but it is U.S. and Mexican policies that make the border so dangerous.

The border is very fascinating from an anthropological perspective, with coyotes, drug tracking, and prostitution, but it’s also scary.

But Mexico is a very rich country. 10% of Mexico’s population is indigenous, and within that 60 distinct ethnic groups, with some being the modern day counterparts of the Mayans, some are Aztecs, some are Zapotecs, and all have their own dialects, languages, customs, and religious practices, that are incredibly distinct from each other.

I have now traveled to over 30 countries, and Mexico is hands-down my favorite.

What was the final impetus that led you to quit your job and move to Mexico, or was it a long-term goal you had had? How did you know it was the right time to go?

It was a long-term goal I had thought about doing since 2000, but first I had to publish Around the Bloc, which took a few years, and then I did a massive book tour.

A huge number of places I was invited to speak were for Latino cultural groups, where people came up to me and started speaking Spanish, and I couldn’t respond.

Also, I was approaching my 30th birthday and I was talking about things I did when I was 21, and I didn’t want to be known only for things I did when I was 21.

I am also a big believer in signs, and that you have to be receptive to them.

My birthday was coming up, and I needed new goals. When I was wondering about what to do, I encountered a group of Mexican border crossers. Then in New York, I got off at the wrong subway stop, and saw an ad for trips to Mexico.

But I didn’t have the money to go. I was living in New York with roommates and working as an activist. I quit my job, and even though I only had a few thousand dollars I knew I had to do it.

On Christmas Day I was with my family opening presents, and when I opened mine I got a check for $5000. Tia (my mom’s aunt who raised her) had died earlier that year and had given her money to all of the kids, and that was my portion.

That was another sign. I thought what better way to spend that gift than to go to Mexico and learn the language.

How did you prepare for this experience?

Not a lot. I was working and had a bad transitioning period. I had a friend from junior high who had been living there for a year and was about to leave, and he had me take over his place. The only thing I did to prepare was buy a plane ticket. I didn’t have a chance to brush up on my Spanish or do any reading.

When you first arrived in Mexico, did it feel different from your arrival in Moscow or Beijing? How was the overall experience different from your previous travels?

I prepared 4 years for Moscow, studying the language, the history, and the literature. I prepared for a summer for China, studying Mandarin and reading about the history. For Mexico, I didn’t prepare at all, or had prepared for my entire life.

In Mexico, I can pass for Mexican, but some people thought I was Chilean or Spanish, rather than American, and I had an accent that wasn’t necessarily American. There, a lot of things looked familiar because I was racially Mexican myself. I was more culturally sensitive in Moscow and China, really on edge and observant.

My Mexican housemates were cleaning fanatics, and they expected me to be the same way, but I didn’t want to. They wanted me to get down on my hands and knees and clean as well, but I was thinking, you’re just like me.

If that had been the case in China I would have, because it was a different culture. I realized that even though the Mexican culture seemed similar it was really just as foreign.

You were leery of traveling to Mexico for many years, associating it with kidnappings, narco-traffickers, and murders. How did your perceptions of Mexico start to change?

Before I was fearful that these things would happen to me personally, but then after a while I was no longer afraid for my personal safety. The people I met that had bad things happen to them was because they were indigenous or activists.

Mexico in 2005 to 2006 was an extraordinary time, when schoolteachers were shot at with rubber bullets, and indigenous activists activists were kidnapped and tortured.

You had your hangups about being a “bad Mexican,” not having spent much time learning the language or culture. Do you feel that you became “Mexican enough” through this experience? How did you come to terms with your Mexican-American identity?

The main thing I’ve learned is that part of what means to be Latino is to be culturally schizophrenic, culturally reflecting, unsure of who they are, what they are, and when you get down to it, am I enough. This affects every American Latino that has reached a level of economic stability.

On a good day, Mexican enough is the best I can possibly be. On the worst days, you think you’re not enough of this, not enough of that. I get letters every day from people worried about the same thing.

You are certainly not the only person who has had reservations about visiting the Motherland. Did you feel that the Mexicans you met accepted you as being at least part Mexican?

No. Whenever I referred to myself as Mexican in Mexico, they laughed. To them, I was just as gringo as everyone else.

But when I explained that I had Mexican blood, that I cared about them, that I was interested in the culture, and wanted to learn the language, they appreciated it. I was there to find a connection, not to drink tequila and never saw a body of water.

In the United States, I refer to myself as Mexican-American, Chicana, or Latina. Chicana is my favorite because a friend of mine refers to it as a “pissed-off Mexican who is a politically engaged, active Mexican.” It has a bite to it, referring to someone who is politically conscious of their identity.

In your second book “100 Places Every Woman Should Go,” you included a section on Motherlands, describing it as the most meaningful of all travel destinations. What advice do you have for anyone who would like to embark on a journey to their motherland?

Lose your fear an just go, just go, just go. It can be intimidating, you may have your hangups but just go for it. It can seem very challenging, but it’s very rewarding.

Even though I am a huge advocate of traveling alone, but it can be more powerful to travel with your mother, father, sister, brother, child, grandparent, or great-grandparent.

Try to learn as much of the language as possible, interview your family, and look through photo albums. Travel as close to your ancestors’ home as possible, although in some cases it can be a whole continent.

This is truly a trip to prepare for, it can’t be spur of the moment.

Learn more about Stephanie Elizondo Griest on her website. And read her interview with Rolf Potts on travel writing.

Photo: alicepopkorn

It is said that when a student is ready, a master teacher will appear.

Sometimes what is to be learned comes in the form of going inward and engaging with the self. Other times, we are guided out into the world and to visit sacred places in order to learn more about who we are.

Spiritual pilgrimages have been a part of many cultures and religions since they were first conceived – think Buddha in his Siddhartha days, Jesus as he went out into the desert, Muhammad retreating to a cave outside of Mecca.

According to Robert Sheer, the oldest known spiritual travel destination is Mount Kailash in Tibet, to which pilgrimages began some 15,000 years ago.

As many people are shifting their views on the environment, their spiritual or religious beliefs, and their life’s purpose, pilgrimages are being taken to a whole new level through organized spiritual travel tours.

BNT recently spoke with Greg Roach, founder of Spirit Quest Tours, to find out what exactly is behind this increasingly popular form of travel.

BNT: How would you define spiritual travel?

Greg Roach, Founder Spirit Quest Tours

GREG: I could write pages and pages to answer this question! It’s different for everyone, but for us it means simply traveling with consciousness, respect and intention.

Consciousness of spirit and the blessings of the divine that allow us the freedom to travel (even if that freedom comes in two week blocks), respect for the sites and people that we visit, and the intention to travel as “ambassadors of peace” and to further the evolution of consciousness (our own, or others) wherever we go.

That’s an equation that’s always evolving – depending on where we’re traveling to, who we’re traveling with, and what’s happening in the world at the time.

Typically spiritual travel involves seeking out sacred sites, performing rituals, meditations and ceremonies and getting deeply immersed in the place, the people and their beliefs. This is really our goal at Spirit Quest Tours – to help our travelers discover the deep essence and truest energy of a destination.

How does Spirit Quest provide, according to your site, “life-changing, heart-opening, pilgrimages”?

We think of a Spirit Quest tour as a pilgrimage because of the intention that we, and our travelers, bring to the trip. It’s our intention to be open to the world and culture in way that’s transformative – to use the great gift of travel as a tool for transformation and awakening.

This intention helps to open person’s heart, that in turn helps to create positive change in a person’s life.

People go through profound changes on these trips. I see them become more of who they really are, more of who they want to become. They find a power they forgot they had. They become more patient, accepting, loving, open.

Why did you decide to take on the spiritual side of travel? Do you think this is a niche market that hasn’t provided many options for travelers?

Photo: alicepopkorn

My spiritual life came first, and that then led me to this career. I took an Egypt trip in 1998 and had a tremendously powerful spiritual awakening there. A “shattering experience” would actually be a good way to describe what happened to me.

The personal, emotional and psychic fallout from the trip was profound, and serious, so I began to travel to sacred places as a kind of coping and healing strategy. I spent the next several years visiting sacred sites all over the world.

In 2001, I was invited by UNESCO to present a paper at the opening of the Alexandria library (I was in the hi-tech world at the time and hold several patents in the field of interactive video technology, so travel is not my first career).

This not only gave me a chance to return to Egypt, it gave me a chance to reconnect with my friends and guides from my first visit. One thing led to another and within a year I had fielded my first Egypt tour and Spirit Quest Tours was born!

So we led our first “Spirit Quest Tours” trip in 2002 and have lead many trips to many parts of the globe since then.

The more time I spend helping people to experience the world, and helping the world to experience our people, the more I’m able to connect with the wonders of human accomplishment, the wonders of the natural realm, and the great, pervasive genius that ties it all together.

Phrases like “green travel” and “responsible tourism” have become buzz words over the past couple of years. Why did you choose carbon offsetting and the Bali Children’s Project as your way of participating in these forms of tourism?

No one but you / Photo: alicepopkorn

Travel and tourism can be tremendous forces for good, producing greater cross-cultural understanding and a benevolent redistribution of wealth, or they can further a kind of “cultural imperialism” while negatively impacting the environment.

I think it still comes down to your intention, and for me that’s simple math. These are just the right things to do.

So, for the environment, we are carbon neutral for all of our land and business activities, and we invite our travelers to join us and offset the carbon footprint of their air travel. We did a lot of research around this and decided that we liked Carbon Fund.org’s approach.

We also feel that we have a spiritual obligation to help sustain the cultural future of our host countries, so we raise money for local children’s charities in our destinations. Here again, we also carefully research the organizations we work with.

The Bali Children’s Fund is a great example of the kind of charity we like to support. They’re doing tremendous good and making a real difference in the lives of underprivileged children in Bali.

What has been your favorite, and most spiritually fulfilling, trip? Do people tend to gravitate toward this particular destination, and why do think that is?

Okay. This is a tough one. It’s a little like asking a parent which child they love best! But if I’m honest, there’s only one answer for me: Egypt.

Egypt tours are by far our most popular trip. Egypt has such a power to it, and we hear from many people who tell us that it’s a life-long dream to go on an Egypt tour, and it never fails to deliver. And it also happens to be my personal favorite.

The country itself boasts a staggering history – and the Egyptian people are genuinely warm, open and welcoming.

But most importantly, Egypt possesses a mysterious, majestic quality that people respond to at a very deep level and there is an energetic quality to the land, and the ancient sites, that acts as a powerful kind of spiritual accelerant.

Many of our readers tend to backpack their way through multiple destinations on very little money. Does spiritual-based travel have to cost more, or is it possible to experience this form of tourism on a shoestring budget?

Again, I think it all comes down to your intention. I’ve done everything from sleeping in freezing monk’s cells on plain wooden boards to staying in the finest 5 star resorts. So you can have a spiritual travel experience anywhere along this spectrum. I don’t think there’s anything inherently more, or less, spiritual about either austerity or luxury.

The question is really what’s the consciousness you’re bringing to the experience and the environment? You can be a bad traveler in a hostel or the Ritz Carlton. Likewise, you an be a positive influence in the world whether you’re sleeping a goose feathers or straw.

Spirit Quest Tours trips tend to favor the more luxurious end of the spectrum. Our travelers tend to skew a little older, so money is maybe less of an issue.

Do you find that with all of the economic and societal changes that are going on in the world today, more or less people are seeking this type of travel?

There no doubt that more and more people are attracted to this kind of travel. There is a growing hunger for deeper, more meaningful, experiences.

Collectively, the west has had years and years of distractions available to us and, by and large, distraction and consumption have proven to be hollow ways of passing our time here on this planet. I meet a lot of people who are waking up to this truth and this awareness is being reflected in choices all across the spectrum of their lives – including the kind of travel they undertake.

Meaning is becoming meaningful again, and I feel very blessed that Spirit Quest Tours is able to help and participate in this consciousness.

For more info, visit Spirit Quest Tours.

Have you taken a spiritual pilgrimage? Share your thoughts below.

Pattabhi Jois and students at the Ashtanga Yoga Research Institute in Mysore, India.

Filmmaker Kate Churchill has been practicing yoga for 12 years. In that time, the form and variety of yoga has exploded, but she remains convinced that yoga can transform anyone.

Enter Nick Rosen, a New York journalist and all around skeptic.

He’s fairly certain yoga is good for nothing more than staying limber, but he’s willing to try any school, and meet any guru, to see if it’s more than skin deep. The resulting film, Enlighten Up, is a fascinating journey into the heart and history of yoga.

Watch the trailer:

Surpsingly (at least for me) the film is about more than this ancient spiritual practice.

Nick ends up battling his own psyche as much as his flexibility; and Kate plays a much larger role than she originally intended. Both participants learn that the path into their perfect practice is really a path into themselves.

On the eve of her film’s premiere, I spoke with Kate Churchill in an illuminating interview about life, poses, and the secret of happiness.

BNT: What first attracted you to yoga?

Kate: I started practicing yoga consistently about 12 years ago (it was 7 when I started making this film). After decades of playing sports, my body was starting to fall apart. A yoga studio opened in the neighoborhood and I decided to try it to allieve some of my physical aches and pains.

How did you come up with the idea for Enlighten Up?

Director Kate Churchill with Gurusharanananda at his
ashram in Northern India.

The initial idea for this film came from Tom and Jeanne Hagerty, the Executive Producers, who had gone on their honeymoon to Hawaii and met Norman Allen, an unusual yogi who lives in a remote part of the island.

The following year, they approached me about making a film. At that point, we were all practicing at the same yoga studio, and I don’t think we had any idea what we were endeavoring to do.

What drew you to casting Nick Rosen as the yoga guinea pig? Was there anyone else that came close?

We considered a number of different people. Ultimately we chose Nick for a number of reasons. I liked that he was a journalist, he was good at researching and asking important questions and he was skeptical about yoga.

In the film, you come across a bit like a task-master, keeping Nick to his yoga goals. Did you anticipate that you would need to play this role?

I had never planned to be in this movie. When we set out, I had no idea the conflict between my expectations and Nick’s identity would become such an issue. Ultimately, in the edit room, we realized that conflict was the driving engine of our film.

What was one of the biggest challenges making this film?

The biggest challenge for me was accepting to include the conflict between Nick and me as a vital part of the story. Putting myself in the film, and examining how my actions affected Nick was a very humbling experience.

Throughout the course of the film, Nick learns how yoga intersects with ideas of God and happiness. What did you personally take away from these experiences?

I learned that there are many different ways to find happiness and many different ways to develop a spiritual path. What matters the most is what works for you.

How did your own perception of yoga change throughout the course of the film?

Nick Rosen’s perspective is turned upside down
in Pune, India.

I started out thinking we would find one yoga practice and teacher that would answers all of our questions. I ended up realizing that there is no one teacher or practice that will give me everything I need.

Were there any favourite scenes that had to be cut?

We shot more than 500 hours of material, so there were many interviews and scenes that had to be cut. One scene I really liked that we had to cut was when Nick went to visit Russell Simmons, a dedicated yogi and prominent leader in the hip hop world.

What was the most important insight you learned about yourself?

I learned that my expectations can sabotage my journey, and I can find what I need right in front of me if I am aware.

Enlighten Up premieres April 1, 2009 in New York City. Check out the official website for more upcoming showtimes.

Chances are, you’ve watched at least one stunning musical montage produced by the Playing For Change organization.

But have you heard the story behind the story? Bill Moyers, intelligent as always, interviews the project founder Mark Johnson, on the aim and the inspiration behind the journey.

An excerpt:

The idea came about ten years ago, here in New York City. I was in a subway station on my way to work. You know, every day in the subway, people are just running around like crazy to get wherever they have to go.

But this particular day, I was in the subway and I heard these two monks playing music. And they were painted head to toe, all in white, wearing robes. And one of them was playing a nylon guitar and the other one was singing in a language that I didn’t understand and I imagine most people didn’t understand.

You know, there were about 200 people just stopped. Didn’t get on the train and started watching this music. And I looked around and I saw people with tears in their eyes. And I saw jaws dropping. And I just saw this collection.

And it occurred to me that here is a group of people that would normally run by each other. And here they are, collectively coming together. And it’s the music that brought them together.

So it really inspired me. And it occurred to me that when there’s no separation between music and people, when music is just happening and people can walk by and it can affect them, that this is an opportunity for us to really find a way to bring people together.

What do you think of the Playing for Change project? And is it possible to watch any of the clips without getting misty eyed?

Portraying Africa is a daunting task. Descriptions are often rife with stereotypes of warring tribes, starving children, or the AIDS epidemic.

Outsiders tend to view Africa as a single country, rather than a complex and sprawling continent.

As one satirical writer put it in How To Write About Africa: “Africa is to be pitied, worshipped or dominated. Whichever angle you take, be sure to leave the strong impression that without your intervention [...] Africa is doomed.”

Brook Silva Braga, on the heels of his previous backpacking film A Map For Saturday, decided to tackle the challenge the only way he felt necessary – through the experience of ordinary Africans.

The result: One Day In Africa.

After viewing a pre-release screener, I caught up with Brook for a provocative discussion on the journey through his second film.

BNT: How did you come up with the idea for One Day In Africa?

BROOK: I wanted to travel Africa for awhile and an opportunity came up about a year ago to join a group driving the continent north to south.

From the perspective of a documentary the trip offered a great chance to visit a large part of the continent but the disadvantage of moving through each place pretty quickly. So the solution I came up with was to profile people throughout Africa but only for a single day.

The strategy also put the story very much in their hands because I had less raw material to work with than usual.

How did you decide on your subjects?

How I found people really varied a lot, some I just stumbled upon while others I sought out for some special perspective they had.

As in any film, compelling subjects are very important but I also wanted to avoid the easy traps of filling stereotypical boxes like ‘the guy with AIDS’ and ‘the woman in a refugee camp.’ Instead I was looking for people who could articulate what was important to them and give a sense of what life in their community is like.

Did you find your second film easier or harder than your first?

The first one, A Map for Saturday, was certainly more fun to make because I was living the backpacker life for a year and just generally having a great time.

One Day in Africa was more taxing physically and logistically but from a creative perspective it was probably easier because there was much less raw material and I had the experience of the first film to guide me.

Many people think Africa is dangerous. Did you ever feel unsafe during your shoot?

There were a couple nervous moments in my five months there but nothing really bad ever happened. Africa is much, much safer than most people probably imagine.

I’d argue that Mali is safer than Spain, Kenya is safer than Brazil, Malawi is safer than Thailand. There are certainly pockets of Africa that are among the world’s least safe places but they make up a small percentage of the continent.

Like A Map For Saturday, you play a role in your new film – this time as the unseen interviewer. Why did you decide to include yourself and how did that alter the style/perspective of the film?

I don’t think I’d describe myself as “playing a role” in the film any more than I’d describe Scott Pelley as playing a role in a 60 Minutes story. In fact, its that type of long form journalism that most interests me as a model for good documentaries.

I think interviews are much more interesting if there is someone prodding the subject, acting as a proxy for the viewer, rather than being silent.

At one point you have a tense discussion with Osama in Morocco. He believes Jews were responsible for 9/11 and you clearly disagree with him. As a filmmaker, was there a dilemma whether to remain an “observer” of your subjects or to assert your belief of the facts?

I think the way you phrase that question gets right to my opinion on where to draw this line.

I believe as objective fact that Jews were not responsible for 9/11, I don’t think that’s a “belief,” I think its a fact. At some point you have to make some choices about how you interpret reality and that’s one I’m willing to make.

But I’d also point out in that same exchange Osama presents some interesting thoughts on the appeal of Osama Bin Laden to him and other Muslims and I go out of my way not to contradict his opinions even as I try to draw out the thinking behind them.

Brook shooting a scene.

You mentioned to me that this film “lives or dies by not always making the audience feel how they want to feel.” How did this sentiment play into your portrayal of Africa?

I think the reason I said that is because part of what I was trying to do with One Day in Africa was to prioritize what was important to the subjects rather than the viewers.

There are some powerful points to be scored by exploiting westerners’ sympathy, guilt, or pity when telling stories from the developing world and it was my goal to make it more complicated than that.

I think too many of the words and images coming from Africa originate in one way or another from people who seek donations for a certain cause from the rich world.

I saw my role as providing a channel from Africa to the west that wasn’t influenced by any special interest or agenda.

Were there any favourite scenes that didn’t make the final cut?

There was one compelling scene early in the morning with Titus in Kenya where he describes what he went through during the post-election violence there. But the film is chronological so by revealing the most important details of his story first thing in the morning it didn’t leave much to be told later.

So I finally just had to cut the scene and let material from later in the day reveal the story. The good thing about Titus was he could talk and talk and talk so I got all his stories two or three times during that one day.

What was the most important life lesson you took away from the experience?

My time in Africa often reminded me of what a friend told me after two years in the Peace Corps. She said, “all the liberal volunteers became more conservative and all the conservative volunteers became more liberal.”

I think that general principle extends beyond simple political thought.

I think whatever beliefs you have about people and societies unlike your own, you realize when you spend some time in these places that your ways of thinking about them are simplistic and too often based on a frame of reference that no longer applies when you leave home.

One Day In Africa premieres March 26 at the Cleavand Film Festival. Check the website for an upcoming screening near you.

Read our previous interview with Brook Silva Braga about his first film A Map For Saturday.

Feature photo and photo above courtesy of Richard McColl.

On Thursday they planned to shoot me.

A brief phone call with the boss man himself and I had been given the green light to head down to Miguel Caballero’s warehouse, located a block or two west of Bogota’s infamous Transmilenio.

The idea was to check out Miguel Caballero’s products– top of the line bulletproof clothing for the wealthy– and write about the experience. But in the days preceding and following the interview, further avenues of investigation were opening up.

It would be both easy and interesting to write about Miguel Caballero and his client list, but with recent events in other Latin American countries I became further engrossed in the type of situation that has bred the need for bulletproof clothes.

The office is strategically located a short cab drive from multinational banking firm headquarters, international insurance agents and embassies. It is from this socioeconomic group that he finds his core clientele.

Passing a militarized van crammed full of bulletproof vests, I know that I have found the warehouse. Upon entering I am asked to take a seat in the waiting room. There are two of us here and it is cramped. The other individual is wearing a top of the line suit– I can see the cut– and when he gets up to shake hands with a sales agent, a pistol in its holster is revealed.

Photo courtesy of Richard McColl.

The Boss Man Himself

Amiable and with a self deprecating humor not often associated with someone in this line of business, Miguel Caballero cuts a completely different figure from the one I was expecting to encounter.

Hardly a mobster from “Scarface” or a villain masked by dark shades, he speaks openly and freely as if we are old friends.

He is clearly accustomed to my trivial queries, well-versed with catchy soundbites, capable of providing good interviews, just as my Google research revealed.

Miguel Caballero is big news and big business and is now a victim of his own success. His line of bulletproof clothing is designed to resemble ordinary leisurewear for ordinary (or not so ordinary, Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez and actor Steven Seagal are clients) people going about their everyday business.

He begins, after our initial pleasantries, by expressing his displeasure at being misquoted in a recent magazine article:

“My profit margin is not $9 million. I am an entrepreneur and therefore know that I need to reinvest to keep evolving my product. This company has taken me places and over 10 years we have established how to make and design our products and the subsequent 6 years have been spent learning how to sell this product.”

The figures are interesting but my mind wanders. There are photographs on the wall in this conference room depicting Caballero and several of his more famous clients.

There’s the Principe de Asturias, Colombian President Alvaro Uribe, who apparently has a whole selection, including a couple of guayaberas- linen shirts worn in the Colombian coastal region so beloved by Gabriel Garcia Marquez- the notorious Spanish Judge Balthazar Garzon, and well, yes, Steven Seagal.

“Who on earth would want to kill Steven Seagal? I mean I don’t rate his contribution of straight to DVD cinema, but it seems a little odd?”

Caballero smiles. “I really don’t know, but he is now a personal friend; he has a number of our items. In fact, he has a made to order bulletproof kimono, the only one of its kind in the world. Perhaps you can ask him yourself at the opening of our new headquarters.”

Photo courtesy of Richard McColl.

Sinister Realities

Bogota is no dank Gotham; neither is it Sin City. But there is a sinister reality and a grim metaphor for life in the real need for this line of clothing.

Pedro, key account manager for international business, takes over the tour of the factory and leads me through various rooms, where dozens of women are stitching away seated behind sewing machines.

“You can take photos here,” he gestures to a room where the women are preparing vast amounts of bulletproof vests for some branch or another of the Mexican authorities. I watch as one seamstress fastens “Tlaxcala” to the back of a vest.

“The Mexican market is very important to us right now.” I nod, knowing about the state of terror in the north.

It has been said by various commentators that the situation in Mexico is not dissimilar to that in Colombia in the 1980s: drug fueled anarchy and unbridled violence and cruelty, culminating in the beheading of police officers, kidnappings of children, and countless deaths.

“And here you cannot take photos” says Pedro. This room interests me most as they are putting together the vests and the bulletproof material. It’s a trade secret and obviously I am not permitted to know what it is that makes this product so lightweight and effective.

Thin yellow sheets of fabric are layered and then compacted. I can tell you no more because I simply don’t understand the exact science of this business.

Photo courtesy of Richard McColl.

And it is an exact science. Miguel Caballero is selling a product not only to the high and mighty, not only to the wealthy, but to national law enforcement agencies with the guarantee that they’ll save lives. His clothes hold various qualifications and certificates of standard such as the NIJ (National Institute of Justice) from the US.

Talking with Edward, a Colombian Special Forces veteran and current security guard who is essentially my eyes and ears on the street when it comes to information about this sort of thing, I am surprised and a little uneasy when he lets me know a few key details about Colombia.

In order to become a security guard, armed courier and the like, all it takes is a three day course costing $80,000 pesos (US $47) and with your new diploma you can go and find work. I shudder; everything feels less secure.

Edward is understandably concerned that these people are coming in, charging less for their services, and are far from qualified, but that is not the whole picture. Many are displaced paramilitaries or guerrillas and are getting on the inside of various companies in order to feed information to compadres on the outside.

In Edward’s office, where he is in charge of recruits, he has turned away 42 out of 57 applicants this month because they do not have the “right” qualifications or he has investigated their past a little. “I know that everyone has the right to a job and a second chance, but I cannot take this risk. It is my job to ensure the people that we employ are sound and are not here to rip us off.”

Over a coffee he thumbs through the pages of the latest Miguel Caballero catalogue with its new Black Collection. This line is aimed directly at the rich and famous, and a number of the items look as if they have been pulled from a JC Penney catalog.

There are polo style T-shirts, slim cut Italian leather jackets and Gore Tex lightweight waterproof coats. Edward knows that he is unlikely to get his hands on this kind of protection and he understands this further when I mention that Miguel Caballero’s Black Collection is now on sale in the exclusive London luxury emporium, Harrods.

Photo courtesy of Richard McColl.

Bulletproof Bedding

Someone–Miguel won’t tell me who–in Latin America has ordered a bulletproof bed cover. My initial smile during the interview at this revelation has now, upon reflection, left me feeling morose.

What kind of society is it where an individual feels that in order to get a good night’s sleep, in addition to the ubiquitous security guards at the front door, closed circuit televisions and personal arsenal, has also to commission something of this type?

“Should we see peace in Colombia,” says Miguel, “then our sales will increase.

Just look at other countries that have signed peace accords, for example Guatemala. They signed a peace accord over a decade ago and their levels of killings and delinquency have skyrocketed.

The simple question is this: What are these people who have lived all their lives in the military or in armed groups going to do once a peace accord is signed?

“In Colombia at the moment our sales are sales of prevention whereas in Mexico and Guatemala they are sales of reaction. But here in Colombia I do see hope.”

In order to fully believe in your product, you need to see that it works. Pedro shows me his video on his cell phone where he is taking a bullet at point blank range while wearing something from the Black Collection.

Finally, the interview comes to a close. My stomach knots and my palms are unseasonably sweaty. Surely this is when Miguel will get out his revolver. He doesn’t. I don’t remind him and leave before perhaps he realizes.

On Thursday, I escaped being shot.

Community Connection

To learn more about Miguel Caballero, please visit his website.

Finally, even though this article may lead you to think it’s too dangerous to visit Colombia, here’s a guide outlining 10 Reasons Why Colombia is Not as Dangerous as You Think.

Photo: Nessa Land

Haruki Murakami, despite being one of the biggest cultural cross-over novelists of our generation, not to mention a freelance journalist, a translator, and a marathon runner, doesn’t have many pretensions.

He once reflected, “With nothing but my writing, I had made a number of human beings want to drink beer. You have no idea how happy this made me.”

His books are full of mysterious metaphors – wells, zoo animals, catalyst-forming toilet paper – that take immense chances by combining fantasy, mystery and existential … drinking.

Many fans wonder exactly what makes the Murakami machine work, and lucky for them, one of the chief operators– his translator, Jay Rubin– has written a chronicle of his career called Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words.

After consulting Murakami, hashing through the nuances of his writing, and being a fan of his work in general, Rubin has produced countless insights into the author’s life and style. Brave New Traveler was able to catch a moment of the translator and Harvard professor’s time to discuss the task of translating Murakami’s most recent works.

(BNT) What made you decide to write Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words and what was your approach to discussing translation with an audience of fiction readers?

I foolishly thought I could help introduce Murakami to an English-speaking audience by compiling a number of his short stories with commentary.

No one, including Haruki– and eventually me– liked this plan, and the more I worked on the book, the more the commentary – and the factual information – grew, and the use of quoted passages shrank.

Eventually it became quite obvious that Murakami didn’t need any help getting read by foreign audiences.

I’m not sure who bothers to read my book, but I’m pleased that UK Vintage values it enough to have printed two updated versions (the latest just a few months ago, including a discussion of After Dark).

What sort of creative writing do you do, and how does it contribute to your method of translation?

Years of translating have been a marvelous workshop for teaching myself English style, which has in turn improved my translating, but I don’t do my own creative writing.

Haruki Murakami uses many non-traditional (to a Western perspective at least) symbols in his works alongside of frequent cultural references. How much does translating these artifacts to a Western target language change the content?

In other words, what differences would someone who was fluent in both Japanese and English notice when examining both versions of a Murakami work?

Murakami’s most frequent cultural references are Western, so translation almost never involves such changes. He certainly invents a lot of unusual similes, and he has his own pet symbols (wells, corridors), but these strike a Japanese reader as unusual and fresh as they do a Western reader. There is very little difference.

What brought you to Haruki Murakami?

An American publisher asked me to evaluate Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World for possible translation. I told them it was an amazing book that they should by all means publish and volunteered to translate it, but they ignored my advice.

A couple of years later, Alfred Birnbaum’s translation came out from Kodansha International. Reading that one book hooked me.

Many translation theorists believe that translations are most beneficial if they leave elements of the original language in the translation, while others believe this results in a text obviously written in a type of “translatorese.”

Japanese is an especially interesting example, because sentences avoid mentioning subjects so that in a first-person narrative, the “I” is much less present than Americans are used to. How did you decide to deal with that difference?

Photo: pixie_bebe

I hope I’ve given some idea in my appendices on translation how hopeless it is to try to produce a literal translation of a Japanese text. The absence of subjects in Japanese sentences, however, is no more of a problem than the absence of a name in the sentence: “He ate a peanut butter sandwich.” Who is “he”?

How can speakers of English possibly know what “he” stands for? It’s so mysterious! Please read my Making Sense of Japanese (Kodansha International) if you want to learn more about the myth of the subject-less sentence in Japanese.

Describe your process of translation. Where do you do your work? How long do you work for? What particular methods do you use?

I work at my desk at home on a computer for about four hours at a time, beginning after breakfast and ending when my brain turns to mush. I’m not good for much of anything after lunch.

I try to do as finished a job as possible in the first draft, and I always keep the original text close by when working on later drafts. Some people translate first into a kind of literal mishmash and then polish it without much reference to the original, but I’ve never been able to work that way. I try to capture all the nuances right off the bat.

Does translating Japanese make you hyper-aware of other translations you encounter? What is the worst translation that you have ever found in mass-circulation?

I do find myself reading “through” other translations, guessing what the original might be. It can be annoying. I often refer my students to the translation of Natsume Sōseki’s Light and Darkness as an example of how wrong you can go when you translate grammar instead of ideas and images.

Do you think your experience as a translator could apply to translating from one medium to another (intersemiotically)? How would you translate Kafka on the Shore into a film?

Translating is the closest reading anyone could ever do, and near the end of a work it can give you a megalomaniac sense of the truth of your own reading. If you asked me this question at such a time, I would probably say that ONLY a translator could do what you are suggesting.

Fortunately, I’m in a calmer state of mind at the moment, and can only reply, “Huh?”

Does being a translator make Murakami aware of the potential for his works to be translated?

Yes, aware, but not obsessed. He is not writing primarily to be translated.

Community Connection

In Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words, Rubin quotes Murakami discussing translation: “Rather than worrying about the details, I’m just happy to have my work translated.” A rare opinion in the academia of translation, but Murakami is a rare individual.

If this interview has intrigued those new to Murakami, After the Quake: Stories
is a good starting place, while Rubin’s Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words is a an intriguing treat for long-time fans.

BNT: What differences-other than the length of time traveling-do you see between this trip and other trips you have taken? How has going overland (or across the oceans) changed your perception of places, people, and the connections between them?

Tom contemplates the Pacific crossing

LL: By traveling over the earth’s surface you get a true idea of just what a huge place this world is. The distances in China and Russia, for example, are huge, and the Pacific is larger than the whole of the earth’s landmass put together. By crossing it in a boat you really get a sense of that.

As well as a sense of scale you also get more cultural insight. It is fascinating to see how one country turns into another.

Overland transport in Cambodia

Of course, some border crossings can show quite stark contrasts between countries (like between Thailand and Cambodia), but often countries really do merge into each other and you realise quite how fickle some borders are, often stemming from political necessity rather than reflect the ethnic makeup of the region they straddle.

The differences between the south of the [United] States and the north of Mexico are very blurred: The U.S. influence is strong in the north of Mexico and the Mexican influence is strong in the south of the U.S. Then there are some peoples for whom borders mean little, like the nomadic Hmong, who came from China and now live in northern Laos and Vietnam.

If you just dash between places in a plane boundaries are defined for you. It is much more interesting to see them for yourself and gives a much greater depth into the history. Unlike Tom, I’m not a great one for reading history, but seeing the differences and mergers between countries made me want to seek out more information and learn more.

You also get to go to some places that plane tourists would never see. Planes tend to take you from tourist centre to tourist centre, but by using the local transport you can get to some really far out places. Like the south of China and the north of Laos.

Chinese alternative to strollers.

It’s about as wild as it gets, and looking through the bus window as we bounced along a tiny dusty road for hour after hour, crossing from China into northern Laos I saw how totally different people’s lives are compared to mine – it fills me with awe.

BNT: Can you identify any insights or realizations made possible by choosing to travel this way? Things that plane travelers miss, and that you feel are crucial, or at least helpful, to understanding particular places?

LL: I have definitely gained a greater understanding of the places I have traveled through. When you have a few days on a train cooped together with the locals you can’t help but become curious about each other and start a conversation, even when you don’t speak the language.

Like in Russia on the Trans-Siberian Railway, people kept popping into our berth to say hello. It transpired that most of the men worked for the armed forces in some capacity. What with seeing their photos and videos of bomber planes and the like and watching the wagons of military machines go past in the opposite direction on the railway, I could see what an enormous military power Russia is, and was scared. I’m not sure I would have found that out if we’d traveled by plane from one side to the other.

The long journeys really are like living in the same house as the locals. You get to know their daily patterns – when they get up, what they eat, what they drink and other bizarre habits.

Like on the ferry from Japan to China. The Chinese passengers would always get up a couple of hours before everyone else and do their laundry (it was a two night crossing so why they had to do so much washing remains a mystery), they would be the first to all meals, wolfing it down in ten minutes and moving on, and they were so noisy! If you traveled on a plane you would be fed the same food at the same time and there would be no chance to wash your dirty pants! It was a great insight into the country that we were about to arrive in.

There are other side-benefits too. For example, we haven’t been as ill as we have been on other trips abroad to exotic places. I think this must be in part due to our bodies becoming more gradually used to local bacteria as we travel slowly, as well as being damn lucky!

Traveling by boat

Traveling by boat was also a great time to recoup. Traveling takes it out of you and after five months I really welcomed having two weeks to sort myself out: To eat regular meals, exercise daily and wash everything in and including my rucksack inside and out.

You rarely take time to stop and do nothing when traveling, so it was a blessing to have that enforced upon us on the ship.

BNT: What sorts of reactions have you received when you say, “We’re traveling around the world without flying.”? Do you see any marked differences between the way people react in different countries?

LL: Most people say “Wow” and are really interested, especially in how we cross the oceans. Lots of people do some of their trip overland, between countries, and enjoy it, and often say how next time they’d like to do a trip like ours.

The differences in reactions between countries: In Europe people weren’t that fazed, partly because it was the beginning of our trip, but also because traveling around by public transport is so easy there. Also in Russia people weren’t so impressed because there a lot of people who travel across the length of the country on the Trans-Siberian Railway, so eight days on a train aren‘t a big deal.

The Japanese, being an island nation, seemed a little confused as to how we had arrived and were surprised to know about the ferry between their country and Russia, but the slow boat to China is pretty well established (although most can afford the more expensive option of flying, and do).

In poorer countries like China and Mexico the reactions have been mixed. Some wonder why we are taking the slow route (by train or bus) when we could afford to fly, and others aren’t surprised at all because using public transport to cover big distances is quite normal to them.

Climate change also isn’t high on the agenda in many of the countries we’ve been to (e.g. Cambodia, Guatemala), so the environmental reasons for traveling as we do don’t translate.

In richer countries like the States and Japan people did seem more confused as to why we don’t fly when we can afford to. Using public transport in the States has a real social stigma attached; the attitude is that only poor people take the bus.

Tom taking his morning tea.

Others can see the potential for adventure it offers and some have been so interested in our trip that they have offered to give us lifts and beds just to be a part of it.

The further we get into the journey, the more impressed people are. Now that we are in the Americas, people are intrigued to know how we got here from England without flying and are amazed when we mention that we came the long way round across Asia and the Pacific. The Pacific crossing seems to spark people’s imaginations the most.

We’ve also had a lot of interest in our blog from people we’ve met along the way. They’ve been able to look up what we’re doing and some have even used it for information for their own trip.

BNT: It is evident… that both of you are interested in sustainable development and environmental causes. How do you feel travel can aide these causes? What do you identify as the benefits and the risks of this huge boom in travel in the past several decades?

LL: Travel makes a massive contribution to carbon emissions and tourism can be very harmful to the environment. However, it’s human nature to wander and people aren’t going to stop traveling.

We want to show how you can travel lightly, in a way that minimises environmental damage (by taking less carbon intensive modes of travel, refilling water bottles, etc.) and contributes to the local communities and economies.

There is no doubt that tourism is good for the economy. Talking to locals….they all acknowledge the money and jobs it generates, which helps improve the standard of living…. The important thing is to be able to contribute in this way without causing environmental damage.

The local economy in Guatemala

We have seen some very good examples of tourism done well, like in Laos, where the tourist industry is in its early days and is being developed with [sustainability] in mind. Tourism can also help preserve natural environments. For example, on the Mexican Pacific Coast parts of the mangrove swamps are being preserved as a tourist attraction instead of being destroyed to make way for a shrimp farm.

You can also use your time as a traveler to contribute to the country you are visiting by volunteering. We’ve done this in a few places – be it talking to Chinese students in their ‘English Corner’ or building a path around a lake in Siberia – you get so much more out of the country and give something back as well.

There are of course risks to poorly planned tourism booms. We’ve heard how other mangrove swamps in Mexico have been destroyed to make way for hotels, how sex tourists come to Cambodia to take advantage of the poor and have seen great swathes of land being concreted over to accommodate more tourist facilities.

Volunteering in Siberia

Even when we were building the Great Baikal Trail around Lake Baikal in Siberia I did at times wonder whether opening up the lake and promoting ‘ecotourism’ is a good thing, as the Russians who came to use the path, camp and enjoy the lake left behind huge piles of rubbish.

So even if the intentions are good, if the culture of the country is not mindful of the environment it can cause problems.

“Ecotourism” seems to be a massively abused word worldwide with no guarantee that an eco-hotel or ecotourism tour is any better than a standard one. So really it is up to the individual traveler to make sure that the journey they take and the decisions they make not only enhance the adventure and fun, but also benefit the locals and don’t inadvertently harm the environment.

BNT: What are your goals during and after this trip?

LL: Goals during the trip: To be nosy really. To have a look at how other people live their lives, eat different foods, gain conclusive evidence that English beer is the best and spend time on a paradise beach.

I also wanted to prove that you can travel lightly and have a good time. I’ve also been interested to see what’s happening across the world in terms of climate change, in actual climatic changes and people’s attitudes to tackling it. The blog has also been an ongoing goal, and has really helped focus my mind on what’s happening around me.

My goals after the trip – to publish a book about our adventures and demonstrate how you can travel around the world without such negative environmental consequences. It would be great if, as a result, some people were inspired to take the train instead of the plane on some of their journeys. I’d also like to try and grow an avocado tree.

TF: Back home, I seem to have an [voracious] appetite for books, magazines and television programmes about the various peoples and places of this planet and I’m always itching to get out there and meet them. I love to learn about other people’s lives and cultures, and perhaps also tell them a bit about my own.

I also fully believe the world’s problems cannot be resolved without education and the best way of doing this is to go out there and learn for yourself. Perhaps we’ve given some people a different perspective on things (we’ve met some people with incredibly misinformed views of the world/the UK) and likewise, it’s helped me to understand the mentality behind counties such as China and Russia.

We’ve made friends all along the way and these will be people we hope to stay in contact with, and perhaps see, in the UK or abroad, in the future.

Yes, the book is the big, immediate goal once we get home. We also got engaged, as I mentioned earlier, so there will be wedding bells next year.

A friend back home, on telling him about our trip, said to me: “Traveling? Haven’t you grown out of that?”. Likewise, my parents are hoping that this trip will slake my wanderlust and salve my itchy feet. I think they’re going to be disappointed.

Lara’s always accusing me of planning the next trip whilst not paying enough attention to the current one. I disagree, but I am harbouring ambitions to visit the Middle East – an area which has always fascinated me – so why not a smaller circumnavigation – of the Mediterranean? We’ll wait and see…

BNT: Any parting thoughts/insights/memories you’d like to share?

TF: Can I quote the world’s wisest teenager, Ferris Bueller?

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

From a long, long list, highlights I have to include:

Russia: Encounters with drunken Russian soldiers on the Trans-Siberian railway and discussing the finer points of Russia-West relations with airforce pilots using a picture book and hand gestures; taking a naked dip after a long hot day’s work in the chilly waters of Lake Baikal, whilst the sun sinks over the horizon and the moon and Venus come out to greet us.

Japan: Pruning large branches off trees with a rusty saw from the precarious platform of a tractor bucket; soaking in steaming hot onsen hot baths fed by volcanic waters in Hokkaido; meeting the many bizarre, eccentric folk of Tokyo and witnessing the phenomenon of the ‘salary man’, the motor of the Japanese economy; visiting Hiroshima, site of the world’s first nuclear bomb attack.

China: Staying in a traditional old hutong neighbourhood, cycling around the tiny streets, visiting markets and eating steamed dumplings.

Laos: Driving an elephant across a river, perched atop its neck, and visiting the phenomenal falls springing up from underground in the jungle during the rainy season.

Thailand: Spotting Giant Hornbills in a national park and hearing the incredible rush of their wing feathers as they flew over.

Cambodia: Coming face-to-face with, er, the faces at the famous temple of the Bayon.

Crew of the CMA CGM Hugo

Pacific crossing: The entire voyage, the sense of immensity, the sunrises and sunsets, the whales and flying fish, the companionship of the Filipino crew, learning about navigation, international trade and the utterly different living people make at sea, and witnessing the changing shifts in economic power in the world as we visited Chinese and American ports.

USA: Staying in Liz Taylor’s old house in Hollywood, having fun with five young chaps who’d left Chicago/Des Moines to come and ‘make it in the movies’; hitching rides across the spectacular, lonely scenery of southern California, Arizona and New .

Mexico: Spending Christmas with a Mexican family and 30 of their relatives, smashing piñatas and taking part in a traditional celebration.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION: For tips on planning a round-the-world journey by land and water, check out Lara’s and Tom’s tips here.

All photos courtesy of World in Slow Motion.

Feature photo by davitydave.

Pauline Frommer might be The First Daughter Of Budget Travel, having grown up around her father’s guidebook dynasty. She is currently the editor of her own series (The Pauline Frommer’s Guides), a CNN travel regular and voices a weekly radio show, which she co-hosts with her dad, Arthur.

As I recall, you’ve just spent quite a time researching Las Vegas. How much time have you spent there?

I was there for about a month. I spent two months there for the first edition of my book and I was updating it. The problem with Vegas is that it changes every minute. Especially in this current economic crisis. Prices there are plummeting, mostly because the city has lost about a quarter of the flights that used to serve it.

I can see how it would be hard hit. In 2009, what happens to the five star hotel that relied on steady flow of $500 a night, rack-rate clients?

They are very, very quietly discounting. If you go to their websites they will still quote you that $500 per night rate. If you go through a discounter, you’ll find that you get them for $150 or $200 per night.

The truth is that every part of the travel industry – budget and luxury – is in huge trouble right now. I think that the luxury operators are trying desperately to hold onto their pricing, hoping that some suckers won’t recognize that things have changed.

You seem intent on helping people be at home in new places, whether it be a apartment rental vs hotel, or a neighborhood restaurant versus a bistro with three forks and four knives per place setting. How did that end up becoming a mission for you?

My father and I have always approached travel politically, in a certain way. We both believe that we wouldn’t be electing the leaders that we do if we were a better-traveled people.

I know that there are much more helpful things I could be doing but within travel, I would never do luxury because I love to open doors for people who think those doors are closed to them. That’s part of it.

The other part is that I think the best experience one has when one is traveling is meeting actual folks in the places that you’re going to, rather than just the concierge at your hotel.

Photo above by Caitlinator.

I love a term that I read amongst your writing. “Complain Effectively.” What kind of things do people do incorrectly when trying to sort out a dicey situation?

Nobody gets anywhere by screaming and shouting. You have to ask very calmly to speak with someone who actually has power – usually that’s not the person right in front of you. You catch more flies with honey, as they say.

People have created careers around travel problems. They make it sound if it’s incredibly important if you are delayed, that you make sure that you get on the next plane out. That might give you a little bit more vacation but you also might take years off of your life with the stress you are causing to your heart, by screaming at the person, “I have my rights!”

Sometimes things are going to go wrong. That’s the nature of travel. Travel is about exploration. It’s not about what your rights are, in my mind. I think that it’s an ugly way to approach travel.

It was fascinating to watch print guidebooks try to integrate a web component. Frommer’s was one of the first to really start digging into how this might be done. As the founding editor of that site, can you tell me a bit what that was like to figure it all out?

There was no blueprint whatsoever. We really were trying all kinds of things. It was a very exciting time. It felt like the gold rush and the immediacy of being able to talk to readers, to hear directly what their questions were.

I would spend 90 minutes a day just answering emails and giving travel advice. I still go onto the Frommers.com message boards and answer questions for people because I find it incredibly helpful to see what the questions are.

With print, a trusted name generally leads you to solid reviews and information. Online, you might be getting a cloak and dagger review from a hotel manager. How can you spot good advice on the internet?

My father keeps posting blogs about how you have to be careful with user-generated reviews. Everybody writes back, “I can tell when they’re fixed.” I don’t think you can. There are people hired by these hotels – it’s called ‘buzz marketing.’ They understand that a great review on Tripadvisor leads to a huge uptake in business. I think it’s important to read the trusted names.

Yes, you can look at Tripadvisor and the like. They can be helpful with trips like if there is construction nearby, but I think you really need to take it with a grain of salt.

Photo by digitaljournal.com.

I have friends that can’t find a bathroom without locating it on their iPhone first. Everything seems to be moving between two fingers…where do you think travel print will be in five years?

I think print will all be online, probably. It just seems to be going in that direction. As a web editor it was very interesting to learn how to edit on the web.

A lot of it was about how difficult it is to read things online – it’s just hard on the eyes. So you had to write in a different way, you really had to nugget-ize the information. I became very conscious of where I placed photos and things like that.

I think that those concerns seem to be going away with this next wave of technology. The Kindle is very easy on the eyes…as the technology gets better for reading these things, I think that paper books may go the way of the dodo bird.

You have two kids under ten…what did you learn from your parents about traveling with children?

If you talk to my father about traveling with children he will give you one word; ‘don’t.’ He thinks it’s a waste of time and money.

I do not. I think what I’ve learned is that you try to make things fun, that as they get older you integrate them into the planning of the trip, so that they have some kind of feeling of ownership, so that it’s not just something that is happening to them, that they have a say.

You’ve got to be willing to take some time off from the usual tourist things and just go sit in the park. I have to say, that can be the most fun part of the vacation because you meet local parents.

You’ve seen your share of must-go destinations come and go over the years. Is there one place that has stayed tried and true for you?

I think that a lot of travel writers have this idea that if it’s not discovered, it’s not worth going to anymore. I think that there is a reason that certain destinations – like Paris, New York, The Grand Canyon – are on the perennial must-do list. It’s because they have incredible riches and wonders.

Yes, you might have to see them in a crowd of tourists…but quite honestly, the must-go-to’s haven’t changed that much in the past 20 years.

Photo: Tanya Dropbear

BNT: When did the idea for this trip start to form? How long did it take you to put the whole trip together? Any particular reasons for choosing the route you did?

TF: We can’t recall the exact moment when we came up with the idea but it was definitely in a pub somewhere in London when I suggested it to Lara. I’ve been keen on doing a long trip overland for quite some time, entertaining various ridiculous ideas such as driving from London to Cape Town in a London taxi.

Photo: orphanjonesr

More recently, as we’ve grown more aware of quite how acute the whole climate change problem is, and how aviation is linked to it, we’ve become more interested in other forms of transport. We thought… we could link these two interests together and maybe even help persuade a few other people of the joys of surface travel….

It obviously is a massive commitment, entailing leaving our houses, jobs, families, friends and indeed country, in order to undertake the trip, so we had to mull it over for a while – at least a year or so – before firmly committing ourselves. Plus there were, of course, our jobs to think about, and a lot of money to save up!

We set a date by when we had to decide for sure and as the day arrived – a cold Saturday morning in November – we looked out the window and said: “What are we doing, we can’t pass up an opportunity like this?” and went for it. Seven months later we were on the Eurostar to Brussels, day one of our trip.

The six months preceding this were busy with organising everything – booking tickets, finding a boat for the Pacific, finding specialist insurance, finding volunteer placements, sketching out a rough route…. Millions of things to think about!

There was so much information we needed…and it took a long time sniffing this all out (particularly with full-time jobs and busy social lives) – libraries, bookshops, websites, friends and contacts. That’s why we designed a website that offered more than simply an account of our adventures, providing useful information for other travellers as well, and that‘s why we’re… writing a book….

Photo: caveman_92223

There were several reasons for choosing the route we picked: visiting friends and family en route; particular interest in those countries; particular interest in places. The key principle behind the route was heading east, gradually, giving us time to take in and appreciate many of the changes en route – countries and places had to fit in with this.

Plus we set ourselves a limit of 10 months away (financial and family reasons) so our ideal route – south down through Thailand-Malaysia-Singapore-Australia-New Zealand-Panama and up to the US – had to be ditched. Far too much for 10 months; we had to be realistic. After all, this was in slow motion!

BNT:

Photo: Thirteen of Clubs

A lot of the negatives you list about plane travel–foul food, snoring adults, screaming babies– can be found on buses, trains and other forms of transportation as well. And to a certain extent, all forms of transportation… accelerate the amount of time it would take a human being to move between places….

What is it about the airplane that you particularly dislike, and that encouraged you to forgo plane travel? What makes airplane travel so different from travel on other types of transportation?

TF: I would say that travelling by train is far more comfortable and enjoyable; for buses, well it’s a bit of a mixed bag but at least you have the chance to get out and stretch your legs and look at something other than the back of the seat in front of you for a few hours…however I think I’d like to turn your question on its head… and say what is it I like about not flying.

We are not anti-flying, and we certainly don’t anticipate that people will simply stop flying.

There are some great things about flying: I love the sensation of flying, looking down at the planet passing below you.

But we wanted to do things that flying simply doesn’t give you enough opportunity to do, such as… watch the world change gradually around us. We have the opportunity to notice and appreciate the differences, large and small between towns, cities, regions, countries. We can watch the people change, the landscape change, the food, the climate.

It’s different. It’s less predictable. Possibly more adventurous and certainly more fun. We’re not always sure what lies ahead….

We follow a route less trodden, where we hope to happen across the new and unexpected. We’re not saying that we’re the 21st century equivalent of David Livingstone or Vasco de Gama, but it’s nice to try something different.

Of course, people travelled like this in the ‘olden days’ and it seemed more of an adventure then – think of all the wonderful travel accounts…are out there from such times. So there’s a bit of a romantic element about it as well.

Or perhaps that’s because I proposed to Lara on the container ship in the middle of the Pacific…(she said yes!)

Photo: tanvach

The same could go for train stations – they are often wonderful places, full of life. I love to visit them in Europe and look at all the different destinations on the departures board – you can just buy a ticket and saunter on. No long queues, no long, intrusive security check. Possibilities.

And who wants to hang around in an airport?

There’s always… the environmental aspect: Climate change is the greatest threat facing this planet, or at least our own existence as a species, and we all need to play a part in averting its more extreme effects.

Aircraft emissions are responsible for a considerable amount of CO2 and – perhaps more importantly – its proportion to overall CO2 emissions is growing rapidly. Factor in… the ‘warming’ effect of CO2, [which produces] far greater damage when pumped into the atmosphere at 30,000 ft, and you can see that the current trends of aviation are simply not environmentally sustainable.

We’re not saying that we’re never going to tread on a plane ever again, but we would only do this as long as it fits into our own personal carbon budget (a concept that many government and corporations are already moving towards).

LL: I personally don’t enjoy flying at all. I don’t like the check-in queues, the cabin air, the fact that your joints swell up when flying, the tightly packed rows of seats, and being fed bad food…all at the same time.

Being on a plane makes me feel like a commodity, not a person. Trains, buses, and boats seem to have more space and you can decide when and what you eat.

Before I left I was working in the field of sustainable development and for my own integrity I decided to significantly cut down the amount I fly.

BNT: How do you think airplane travel, and the huge increase in airplane travel in the past 30 years, has changed the nature of travel? How does it change the way people think about and experience travel?

TF: [P]erhaps it makes people take things a bit more for granted. You can just jump on a plane and be in Cairo or Sydney within a few hours.

But I wonder whether we lose something because of this as well as gain something. While planes massively reduce the effort you have to expend in getting to a place, perhaps they also reduce your appreciation of it once you’re there?

You have little time to savour the experience of getting there or noticing the changes that occur as London changes to Beijing. Instead it’s just one big culture shock – bang, you’re in China! By travelling slowly we have the opportunity to be gradually introduced to such places, noticing the first chili in our food, hearing the first Mandarin, seeing the first tuk tuk….

I guess we need to look at the question: Why travel?

Do we just want a holiday or do we want to see something different? A break from the routine, the mundane, the familiar, the predictable? Some people do, some don’t. And I fully understand worn-out parents and stressed-out executives who just want to get away from it all for a couple of weeks and lie on a beach somewhere hot.

But cheap flights and jumbo jets have certainly changed how we travel and how we think about it. They also are part of the creeping homogenisation of our world.

The world is so interconnected that some places are becoming carbon copies of others (like airports). It seems that some cities and cultures are blending into one in a great onslaught of homogenisation – I lost count of the number of Manchester United shirts I saw in Southeast Asia, the number of Coca Cola adverts I saw in Mexico.

Photo: larry&flo

And we’ve met people around the world who are keen to show us how eagerly they are embracing Western attitudes, businesses, clothing, and food, and seem almost embarrassed… to disclose the more traditional aspects of their culture.

If we are going to live in a world where we can just hop across the Prague for a night or spend five days shopping in Dubai aren’t we losing our sense of the world?

I’d rather enjoy the fantastic opportunities slow travel offers to appreciate the differences which, after all, make this world such a wonderfully diverse and endlessly fascinating place.

BNT: Do you have a particular travel philosophy, or notion of what traveling should be? How does traveling by plane fit within this philosophy?

TF: It’s different boats for different folks.

I’m not sure that what we think can be described as a philosophy and I don’t want to think that the way we see things is not so rigid that we can’t be flexible enough to give other things a try.

Photo: Sir Mervs

At present, I want to travel in a manner that allows me to interact with and appreciate the country and the culture we are passing through, not to view it from a… distance. We want to experience something different from life back home and document and celebrate these differences, whether it be a rickety old hamburger stall in West Hollywood or a Naxi matriarch in Lijiang.

These are the things that add up to make the world such a wonderful, varied, endlessly fascinating place.

Plus the act of travelling itself is important – it‘s intrinsic to our trip. Like the old adage I guess we often enjoy the journey almost as much as the destination itself….

We’re incredibly lucky to have this chance to spend months wandering around the world but most people don’t. And if you’ve only got two weeks to go on holiday most people don’t want to spend half of it on trains and buses.

Everyone should be given – and take – the opportunity to see another part of the world, but they shouldn’t do this at the expense of the environment, the life-support system that nurtures and maintains the very things we set out to see.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION: If you’re considering a round the world trip slow motion style, check out the companion article about Lara’s and Tom’s journey on The Traveler’s Notebook.

Filmmaker Jason Silva

Jason Silva is not your average 26 year old.

The Venezuelan-American filmmaker is a prolific “gonzo journalist” and founding producer for Current TV, the groundbreaking network started by former U.S. Vice President Al Gore.

Jason also co-hosted the first ever Pangea Day in 2008.

But lately, Jason’s found a flaw in the human condition that has been troubling him. That flaw is death. He confesses he tried to find answers in a variety of religions and philosophies, until settling on science.

First, watch Jason’s short film “The Immortals”

I caught up with Jason to interview him on his short film, and to uncover the deeper issues on the end of death.

The Interview

BNT: What philosophies did you explore prior to science? What answers didn’t they provide?

JASON: I’ve always been an analytical thinker- trying to understand the human condition. Perhaps it comes from being a bit of a control freak- to understand something gives me the feeling of control.

One of my majors in university was philosophy- I loved existentialism and I loved a course titled “philosophy of space and time.” I was also an avid individualist and read a lot of Ayn Rand’s work.

I loved the idea of man as a heroic being- one that should never bow down before stifling religion or collectivist political tyranny. I was looking for an answer to the problem of existence- I suspected it had something to do with meaning but at the same settled I for mindless hedonism (fun, but ultimately unsatisfying).

Today, however, I know that’s not enough because it doesn’t solve the problem of finitude.

You mention that seeing old photographs and footage fills you with melancholy. How do you feel when looking at photos/videos from previous travels?

Watching old footage from previous travels usually enlivens me and reminds me of the sublime. I become filled with the “happy-sad” sensation- the bitter-sweet euphoria of seeing something inspiring while being aware that the moment is gone.

Old footage gives me a taste of immortality because I get to “return” to a moment, (usually one of revelatory ecstasy)… where I passionately bombarded the camera with exactly why this moment meant something to me- That’s the highest of highs.

What I really like to do is add a piece of music to the footage that elicits precisely the type of visceral feeling that I felt at the moment I recorded the footage.

That’s the point: It provides a forced reflection/examination of a moment that mattered! This prevents me from ever taking perfect moments for granted. The exquisite and the sublime are sacred.

You quote The Immortalist in your film – how did you come across it and why does it resonate with you?

After watching the brilliant film Vanilla Sky, I spent hours on the internet researching Cryonic Suspension.

This idea that we could preserve ourselves until the technology was there to repair the wear and tear of aging and eventual pathology.

Like the lucid dream that was presented in the film, if we removed finitude from the human condition, life could be transformed into an eternal now- no more existential anxiety.

I started reading about Ray Kurzweil and Aubrey de Grey, brilliant thinkers who professed that through scientific engineering we would someday conquer death.

The philosophical implications and motivations behind this, however, were best described by Alan Harrington’s masterpiece, “The Immortalist”- a manifesto of sorts that dared to challenge our cosmic inferiority complex and complacent attitude about our “inevitable” demise, and instead challenged us to engineer (with SCIENCE) an ageless and divine state of being.

This is where science would satisfy the yearnings of existential man, who for too long was suffering as a consequence of being aware of his mortality.

Photo by kangster.

“Eliminating death is playing God, but doing triple bypass surgery is just fine.” This is an excellent argument against the people who believe humans should not tinker with death. In what other ways do we already intervene against the natural biological processes?

I believe humans have always overcome their biological limitations. It is what has brought us out of the caves and onto the moon.

We have cured ourselves of diseases, we fly remarkable machines through the air at 500 miles per hour. We communicate instantly and wirelessly across the world.

Why is it such a stretch to imagine us re-programming our biochemistry (much like computer software) so that we may alleviate suffering, decay, and death?

You explore science’s answer to the “problem” of death. Why is death seen as a problem that needs to be fixed?

Death is a profound tragedy. Human consciousness is basically a profound (and valuable) pattern of information residing in a complex biological machine.

This machine can repair itself for a certain period, but over time it wears out and decays at a faster rate than it can fix itself. This is why we die.

Today, however, we are at the verge of correcting this. Death is the loss of everything that matters- It is our memories, our loves, the images and dreams that define us- the songs that moved us and the films that shaped us. Death takes this all away.

I argue that in the same way we feel compelled to preserve the works of Shakespeare and other great works of art, why shouldn’t we extend this into our physicality?

Besides, by labeling death a problem, it shifts our complacent attitude about death and turns it into an engineering problem, one that we can solve, much as we have solved impossible problems in the past.

You say “evolution can be cruel” since it does not allow for the variable of human consciousness. But many other spiritual teachers believe that human consciousness is the direct result of evolution. How do you reconcile these two views?

Evolution is a blind process which has peaked at human consciousness.

Suddenly we have a species that can reflect on the evolutionary process which has allowed it to emerge, and can make calculated and measured decisions about how to redirect this process to include and take into account “the meaning of individual life” as a variable in the design.

Blind evolution doesn’t care about how much I love my mother- It doesn’t care about my love of theater and learning and reading- evolution cares only about my progeny.

But I, as an arbiter of value and meaning, have decided that I do care about these things and I don’t want to surrender them just because “that’s the way things are.” I say change the way things are.

If the end goal is to “live forever,” what do you think life would be like if immorality is achieved?

Life would be an unending adventure, sculpted moment to moment, building on itself into an ever more sophisticated and complex symphony.

I think Nietzsche said something like this: “Man is walking on a tightrope between ape and Overman.”

Overman is the emergence from within us of something infinitely more sublime than us. It is our potential. It is a divine state of being, what we long for hopelessly in all our churches.

Photo by Guillaume Goyette.

U.S. General Omar N. Bradley once said, “Ours is a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants.” To me this can also apply to the search for immortality.

While I agree humans should continue pushing the boundaries of science and technology, I wonder if we’re asking the right questions. Would immortality solve the world’s ills? Would it make us happier? Would it answer the fundamental search for meaning?

Ernest Becker’s masterpiece The Denial of Death presented death anxiety as the primary problem of man and also the root of all evil and anxiety.

He says man creates illusions under which to live in order to distract himself from the awareness of his mortality, which is unbearable.

I believe, along with many others, that eliminating death as a certain consequence of being born would eliminate all of our anxiety and aggressive impulses.

I imagine it would make us all into philosophers and scholars. Joseph Campbell-style heroes returning from the edge of death having become something far greater- an immortal hero.

It would satisfy the primal issue of importance– what Miguel de Unamuno wrote about in “Tragic Sense of Life”– mankind’s necessity for personal immortality.

“Do not go quietly into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light” – Dylan Thomas

What do you think about the end of death? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Maarten Troost is the author of three books, all of them poignant and hilarious. Fans of his work know him as wry, witty and a little touched.

Troost’s latest, Lost on Planet China or How I Learned to Love Live Squid,
is a fantastic primer of a country that seems to ride a fine line between brilliance and absolute madness.

Photo by Steve Webel

Your two previous books (The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift in the Equatorial Pacific
and Getting Stoned with Savages: A Trip Through the Islands of Fiji and Vanuatu) have been written about periods of time when you’ve lived elsewhere. Lost on Planet China is about one trip, yet seems to pack more action per page. Is this just because China is so goddamned big and crowded?

Or it could be because more so than the first two books, which were about living in faraway places and kind of reflective and essay-ish, the China book follows the well-established conventions of the travel genre, where the movement of the author is the little engine that propels the book onward.

In the first two books I could linger for an entire chapter on something small – like the cannibalism that befell the canine community on the island of Tarawa, for instance – and use that to make some kind of larger point about the hardships of atoll-living.

In Lost on Planet China I felt compelled to keep things humming along, partly because as you noted China is indeed a big-ass country and to write a somewhat comprehensive book about it while trying to keep it – the book – at a manageable size necessitated a zippy pace.

Once I decided to write this book in a travel genre kind of way, the action-per-page factor was sort of preordained, if that makes sense.

Keeping notes in a communist country that doesn’t enjoy scrutiny would give me The Willies. Did you ever worry about being found out?

One thing that China does exceptionally well is that it has an uncanny ability to make individuals feel really, really small. I felt like a tick on a dragon in China.

Photo bychicchun

Everything about the country – its immensity, its enormous population, its architecture, its history – has a way of reducing an individual to near insignificance.

So I felt pretty free whipping out the old notebook whenever I encountered a noteworthy experience. Indeed, people were often drawn to watch as I scribbled what for them were the inscrutable lines and jots that constitute our letters. It was strangely gratifying knowing that my writing was as mystifying to them as their calligraphy was to me.

I learned quite a bit about spitting from your book. Could you explain to the novice just how much of it goes on in China?

Photo by zamario

No place on earth celebrates the loogie quite like China does. At any given moment in China, there are millions of people hawking enormous globs of phlegm and expelling them in great cascading arcs until they splatter on streets and sidewalks. It’s done for medicinal reasons, a way of expelling bad elements from the body.

The government has observed that westerners find the habit strange and more than a little icky and so they’ve undertaken a campaign to stifle the spitting. I can only hope that they fail.

Having grown up in a loogie-sensitive culture, to suddenly encounter a nation of hurling spitballs is one of those up-is-down, black-is-white experiences that periodically makes traveling so gratifying. I should note that I mean that in the broad, philosophical sense and not as an endorsement of spitballs and the like.

By page 50, you had pretty much predicted the financial crisis that was coming in America and done so (I’m guessing, given publishing deadlines) 10 months in advance. Yet most Americans seem dumbstruck about what is happening. Are most people just that ignorant or are you just that enlightened?

What to say here? I’m not happy with this. There is no gloating. In fact, this terrifies me. I–the C student in macroeconomics–could see this coming, while Ben Bernanke, Alan Greenspan, Hank Paulson et. al. could not. Every American should tremble in fear.

But where I think I had the advantage in terms of forecasting accuracy was that from 2003-2005 my wife and I were homeowners in the greater Sacramento area (long, digressive story). This put us in the belly of the beast that was the housing bubble.

For two years we listened to baristas at Starbucks talk about their investment properties and hairdressers at Great Clips discuss their imminent retirement now that they owned twelve houses in California, Arizona and Florida.

I had begun to wonder where, exactly, was all this home purchasing money coming from, which led to some investigating of the mortgage market and the mortgage securitization process.

In no time at all I was studying the Credit Suisse ARM reset chart and the long term Case-Schiller home price index and that got me looking into the historical relationship between home prices and household income, and it wasn’t long before I came to the inescapable conclusion that we as a society, as a nation, are utterly scroomed.

But I wish I was wrong.

Yak: Delicious or disgusting?

Photo byucumari

Delicious. However, I have spoken to others who have become wretchedly ill upon the consumption of yak. I don’t think that was the yak’s fault though.

You’re kind of a big sissy when it comes to airplanes. How do you deal with the fact that you have spent so many hours on them?

The words “big sissy” kind of understate the problem. I have issues with airplanes and after many hours of discussion with flight attendants and pilots I realize it’s not going to get better. I’m just hard-wired that way. There’s nothing that can be done. It might be a fear of falling issue. It might be a loss of control issue. I’m not sure what the root cause is.

But in any event, after many hours of chatting with air travel professionals I realize that my DNA does not lend itself to panic-free air travel. So whenever possible, I drive or take the bus, or ideally, a train. But, of course, given what I do, I am often obliged to fly.

And so I get on the plane because the alternative – a hermetic, stationary existence – is unacceptable.

I’m holding your hardcover book in my hands. What do you think of the fact that the written word may go the way of The Kindle, no longer bound by paper and glue (and a honey mustard stain)?

Possibly because I was abroad for most of the nineties and therefore missed the great leap forward into the digital age, I remain firmly in the dead tree camp. I cannot imagine a world without physical books and I don’t expect to see such a world in my lifetime.

But hey, whatever. If others prefer to read book-length material on a screen, so be it. It’s not as if the book publishing industry can afford to be picky.

Do your kids have any comprehension of what you do for a living?

Yes and no. It’s more like a seasonal thing. For the most part I’m there to take the kids to school. I’m there to make lunch. I’m there to read stories before naptime. I’m there to help out with the legos and the homework. I’m there for goofing around. I’m there for dinner. And bathtime. And storytime.

And then I’m gone.

For a month, two months, three months, I’m gone, somewhere on the far side of the world. And then I come back and it’s all good. And then there’s the deadline, which I tend to miss, and everything goes to hell for a while. Finally, there is a book. And then we start anew.

You’ve just been to India. Is there a book coming? How do they rate on a worldwide phlegm level?

Phlegm is not an issue in India so I’m not sure if I can get a book out of it. I jest.

Illustrations by Tim TomKinson

With another installment of the addictive Emmy award-winning The Amazing Race barreling towards its conclusion, TV watchers will soon be left with an extra hour to kill on Sunday nights.

To fill the void left by Phil Keoghan, Jerry Bruckheimer, and those yellow and red route markers, we recommend Steve Hely and Vali Chandrasekaran’s The Ridiculous Race.

Published earlier this year, The Ridiculous Race is a dual-narrative of two best friends racing each other around the globe.

The prize? A bottle of Scotch. The catch? No airplanes.

Final destination aside, Steve and Vali prove that it’s really all about the journey.

And their background in television writing (Steve is currently on American Dad’s writing staff and Vali works for My Name is Earl) makes their Race a truly ridiculous-and ridiculously amazing-book to read.

BNT recently chatted with Hollywood’s intrepid travelers, who discussed everything from airplanes versus jetpacks to Madonna to Pico Iyer.

BNT: Did either/both of you travel a lot growing up or harbor any wanderlust? Who were your travel influences for this trip?

Steve chokes Vali for handcuffing him at the start of the race.

SH: Yes, I’ve had horrible, incurable wanderlust all my life. I remember once talking my dad into driving me to Albany once just so I could have a look at it.

We had a long, silent ride home.

VC: While I was growing up, my family made frequent trips to India to visit relatives. My father would stay for as long as his job’s vacation policy would allow (usually two or three weeks) and my mother, sister, and I would stay for the entirety of our summer vacation from school.

Since this didn’t overlap with the summer vacations of my cousins (their break was shorter and came in spring if I remember correctly), I spent much of my time in India reading books. I can’t remember a single one of them.

To answer the second part of your question, my main travel influence for this trip is the same as the main overall influence in my life: Madonna.

What led to the development of The Ridiculous Race? Was it always a book idea or did it originally come out of the age old question “What do we do during hiatus?”

SH: The idea definitely came first – the idea of racing around the world. The “book” aspect was more just a way of getting someone to pay us to do it.

Had we known how hard it was to write a book, we probably just would’ve forgotten about it and gone to San Diego.

VC: I came up with the idea by myself with no help from anyone. And no booze was involved. Whatever anyone else (Steve) says is textbook poppycock.

You made the trips in the summer of 2007, just a few months before the WGA strike. Did the knowledge that a strike may happen impact your trip at all–or did the strike itself impact your writing of The Ridiculous Race?

VC: To be honest, none of the TV writers I knew really thought the strike was going to happen until the week before it actually did happen. We are notoriously bad at predicting the future, especially our own.

So the strike didn’t impact the trip, but it did impact the writing. I, for one, would have never been able to finish writing the book in time for our publication date if I had still been working full time at My Name is Earl in November and December of 2007.

The on-time publication of the Ridiculous Race was one benefit of the strike that the press repeatedly refused to report on.

SH: Without the strike, we never would’ve finished the manuscript on time-we were way, way behind when the studios and the WGA colluded to give us an unscheduled vacation.

We might’ve been the only writers in LA who were happy about it. Not that writing in any way took away from my nonstop effort to bring labor justice to Hollywood.

There’s an obvious connection to CBS’s Amazing Race while diverting heavily from the Bruckheimer concept (no planes, a bottle of Scotch for the winner, no Road Blocks). Do you think you could beat TAR teams given the chance?

Vali riding a Segway in Paris

VC: I’ve actually never seen an entire episode of the Amazing Race. What I’ve seen seems like less of a travel show and more of a which-camera-crew-aided-team-can-make-it-to-the-airport first.

Since I’m habitually late to the airport, I seriously doubt I could beat any of the TAR teams.

SH: Part of our pitch for the book was pointing out that as soon as you have cameras, you’ve changed the situation, and taken a lot of the fun out. One lanky guy alone in the Mongolian wilderness is a lot different than a heavily insured guy and a camera crew out in the Mongolian wilderness.

I’d argue that the first situation makes for much better comedy, but admittedly it’s pretty hard to make a TV show without cameras. Former Amazing Race champion BJ Averell was in college with me; I would not wish to compete against him in a contest of antics.

I think if Vali and I were on The Amazing Race, we’d spend most our time playing pranks on our cameraman.

While traveling under the clock, did you feel you got to truly “experience” the places you visited? Where would you like to go back and explore some more?

SH: Oh, I think 3 days is more than enough time to fully experience China. I had the place figured out after about six hours.

I am only joking of course! Part of the fun of this book was trying to consume as much “experience” as possible, a challenge which very nearly caused me to die of exhaustion.

I’m sure it was annoying to many of the people whose paths I crossed, too:

Steve: AHH, I NEED TO EXPERIENCE EVERYTHING ABOUT LIFE ON A CARGO SHIP! Help me have EXPERIENCE!
Sailor: Uh, I just work here man. I’m changing the ballast water.
Steve: CHANGING THE BALLAST WATER! EXPERIENCE!!!
Sailor: Maybe you should go take a nap.

VC: I definitely did not get to truly experience the places I visited. Early on in the race, when I was in Mexico I realized that I was wasting this wonderful opportunity to see the world because I was going too fast.

So I slowed things down a little bit. But even then, I never spent as much time as I wanted in a single place. Hopefully, I’ll have a chance to go back to every place I visited during the Ridiculous Race.

However if I had to pick a favorite region, it would be the Middle East. It’s the place I’ve read so much about, but actually knew so little about.

My night accidentally spent in Palestine, with a bunch of basketball players, watching army flares and floating in the Dead Sea will always be one of the most memorable nights of my life.

What did you take into consideration when picking the points on your race? How did you navigate the no-planes policy?

Steve and Vali meet halfway around the world to
have lunch with a polar bear

*SPOILER ALERT*

VC: I ignored the no planes policy and picked the points on the globe I thought would be the most interesting to visit. It was actually pretty difficult to choose because I wanted to go everywhere.

The one place I really wish I had gone, but didn’t, was the region where Brazil, Uruguay, and Argentina meet. It’s sort of an un-ruled no-man’s-land.

I really wanted to buy some arms there that I could use to frame Steve and get him arrested by the F.B.I. Instead I drank beers in Rio.

SH: Well, this was very easy for me – my route is the best way to get around the world fastest if you’re not using airplanes.

And, because I’m very clever, and I figured Vali was too lazy to have figured this out, I casually suggested I go west, so I could

1. gain an hour every day, and
2. get on a ship in sensible English-speaking Long Beach as opposed to insane Shanghai.

But the key to any round the world race is the Trans-Siberian Railroad – you can cover a quarter of the earth’s surface while sitting in your PJs eating Snickers and reading Tom Clancy.

Since finishing, a friend of mine pointed out that I could’ve gone to South America and boarded a boat that rounded Antarctica, thus crossing every degree of longitude and thus making me the winner. But that might not have been as fun.

Speaking of no-planes, Vali, what made you decide to break down and go via air? Steve, did you have any clue he was flying while on your trip?

VC: I had been thinking about flying for a while, the notion of spending three weeks on freighters didn’t really appeal to me. I tried to circumvent this no-planes rule by purchasing a jet pack in Mexico, but it didn’t meet my personal safety standards.

Also, practically speaking, I wanted Steve and me to be having adventures in different places. I didn’t think anyone wanted to read two accounts of how mind-breakingly boring crossing the Pacific on a freighter is.

SH: I assumed Vali would do something stupid. And he’d been talking about this jetpack inventor for years, so I figured that might factor in.

I did think he’d at least make an honest effort-I was terrified this book would contain two long descriptions of the Queen Mary, since that was the fastest way to cross the Atlantic.

Finally, will there be any upcoming races or travelogues? Should Pico Iyer be quaking in his boots?

VC: I am currently in training to break the land speed record (currently 763 mph) without using any machines. I’m almost ready for the attempt. All I have left to do is select a pair of running sneakers.

SH: I hereby challenge Pico Iyer and HIS friend, the Dalai Lama, to a race across Africa by bicycle!

BNT anxiously awaits Pico’s response.

Buy the Ridiculous Race on Amazon here. Also, check out a review by Nerd’s Eye View.

What do you think of Steve and Vali’s Ridiculous Race? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Their vineyards are turning out good vintages, the architecture is Paris-lite, there is an abundance of culture and adventure, and it’s all there to be had for a fraction of the cost.

Part of this is what led Camille Cusumano to extend her brief jaunt to Buenos Aires into a full-fledged expat’s life for over a year (even now in San Francisco she yearns to cross the Equator again).

And, keeping up with the modern-day Lost Generation, she wrote about it. The editor of several Love Story anthologies for the travel arm of Seal Press, Cusumano’s Tango: An Argentine Love Story is her first full-length memoir and is now available in bookstores and online.

I caught her in between dances to get the scoop on writing, dancing, and dealing with corrupt governments.

Photo by -just-jen-

BNT: What is it about tango?

Camille Cusumano: How to answer that question simply…I didn’t expect to [fall for it], number one. But once I explored it out of curiosity it sort of crept into my mind and my body and my life.

I think I started to notice that there was a similarity between my Zen meditation practice and my yoga and my tango, which seems kind of strange since It’s considered to be a very sexy dance, very worldly.

But I couldn’t ignore that the dance requires you to show up and surrender and not think…It’s kind of a dance of improvisation. So people who don’t dance tango know it from the show tango. It’s still tango, but it’s a little different because it’s choreographed.

When you dance tango socially, you just go to what’s called a milonga (That’s the venue) and you ask or wait to be asked to dance. There are six basic steps upon which everything else is built, but you don’t know how they’re going to be approached. It’s like a language.

You don’t know what people are going to say to you even though you know the words when you meet them.

For the dance to work, you have to have connection. Again, it goes back to requiring surrender and just being there, fully. I could go on for a long time…That’s why I wrote a book!

The dance is almost like a journey in and of itself.

It’s a journey in self knowledge but in a way that makes you a better person for being intimate with other people.

It’s kind of a paradox because tango-just like Zen-seems to attract a lot of people who like to be by themselves, who like solitude. You’re not supposed to talk when you dance tangs (it’s part of the etiquette.)

And yet, for the dance to work on the most deep level, you have to open yourself, open your heart and be there. You have to be willing and vulnerable in a healthy way. It is paradoxical in that way.

And so it’s very sexy and earthy and sensual, but it starts to become spiritual, too.

So when you moved to Argentina, was it a double whammy of sorts, both going to Argentina and going to this state of tango? Was your move deliberate?

That’s a great question because it’s good information to share with people. I didn’t have much of a plan. I was in a bad state, as I say now because it’s not true of me anymore, I went to Buenos Aires with murder in my heart.

I was very unhappy because my relationship of 15 years had ended suddenly…seemingly suddenly. Of course, I was in denial of our problems; there was another woman and she had been a friend. It’s just garden variety suffering now, but at the time no one was suffering the way I was suffering.

Photo by Alaskan Dude

I had already planned to go to Buenos Aires for two months when all this happened and it turned out the best thing to get out of town. I knew after two days that it was the best thing to be there. I was in this cloud of confusion [before] and could clearly see within two hours [of being in Argentina].

So I changed my ticket right away–cancelled the return–and just knew I was going to stay there until I didn’t have murder in my heart. And tango was part of the healing process. And I also found a little Zen community and did all my meditation by day and danced by night.

And in the dance of connecting with so many strangers, I always wonder how many miles I really danced and how many different people I leaned up against, torso to torso.

In doing all that, I started to really find a place of love for everyone. It just felt that good to have that on the dance floor and I wanted to take it away. I didn’t want it to not be that way when I wasn’t dancing.

Tango is like a fever… it’s an infectious at-ease rather than an infectious disease. It gets in your body so you never get rid of it, it’s a virus in that way but it’s a good thing.

Once you’ve experienced this kind of love, you still have your moods, you still have your bad days, but it rears its head and it says “get thee to a milonga! Go dance!” And it’s there again. The fever rises and…I could make all outrageous claims for tango.

I think a lot of people feel that way about travel. And for most of us, there’s some aspect of travel that we latch onto in that idea of infectious at-ease.

I don’t ever try to convince everyone that they have to do tango to be happy as I am. Everybody’s got tango, and your tango is your clutch on this place.

It takes you out of yourself, it breaks down your defenses, your barriers, and boy, if leaning up against a stranger and getting in his or her warm body envelope doesn’t do it, nothing will!

There are many countries besides Argentina that have embraced tango, especially in Europe. Yet you mention in the book that both you and Argentina were going through a sort of mutual crises (similar, actually, to what we’re going through now).

It seems like there was a kind of misery loves company situation. Did this influence your decision to go to Argentina in general?

Oh, yes. It was this sort of homeopathic treatment. They were going through the same dis-ease as me. I felt very comfortable with them.

Also, as I write about in the book, I’m from an Italian American family-very Italian American-and the culture there is very Italian American, which a lot of people don’t realize, especially in Buenos Aires.

There are immigrants here from everywhere in Europe (and all around the world). But the dominant culture, after Spanish, is Italian-the food, the names, the language. Three of my four best friends [in Argentina] are like me, Italian South Americans.

I love the language; it’s Spanish but has a lot of Italian influence. There’s a saying down there that an Argentine is an Italian who speaks Spanish and thinks he’s French. And the last part refers to the fact that they like thinking of themselves as haughty.

They like their European culture. They do have some indigenous blood that has survived, but sadly a lot of it was wiped out.

Photo by .:elNico:.

How do you feel about Argentina becoming the next hot destination in travel?

Kind of mixed. Of course, it’s wonderful for them, and I love the youthfulness of that.

It reminds me of Paris in the 1920s, the Lost Generation went there to get away from America and have this European sophisticated culture and it was also cheaper.

There’s a lot of artistic firmament that I love being around. Francis Ford Coppola has a place there, and he’s been filming a movie there. I like that I got in on the cusp; I’m worried now that on the other hand it’s going to make it too expensive and overrun with too much attention.

But it’s okay, I had my time there.

Speaking of the Lost Generation, what got you into writing?

I’m one of those writers that wrote all her life and “That’s what I wanted to be” and “That’s what I thought I couldn’t be” because I was lost in the middle of a big family.

I was the fifth of ten kids, and in my Italian family, boys got the attention for developing in their careers. I did find my way because I wanted it very badly, and the way I did it was to get back-up degrees in Psychology (which I never used) and in French. The French was the connection for me.

So from French my first job out of grad school was on a French newspaper, which is still published here in San Francisco, called Le Journal Français.

So I got into publishing and writing film and restaurant reviews and meeting with cultural French icons who came through-Yves Montand and all those people.

That got me started, and then of course I wanted to write in my native tongue. I worked at Rodale price for about four or five years back east writing food books, health books, fitness…

I started writing for magazines. When I got tired of writing about food, I got into writing about travel. My first travel article was about a pike tour to Provence and it was when those bike tours were just starting and you stay in chateaux and castles.

And so I stayed in travel up until three years ago when I left a long-time staff editor job on Via magazine.

And I was thinking today how I loved writing travel, but the thing about food and travel writing in that milieu is that you have to write about how good you feel. If you don’t feel good about something, you don’t write about it. And I left that for writing about how bad I felt. It was another corner to turn.

Photo by einalem

Would you say that travel is one of the best healing tools? It seems that you latched onto that and your Zen and tango rather than going for a traditional “healing tool.”

YES, absolutely. There’s nothing like it. It’s not the first time I had a spiritual crisis, but in the past I’d taken off for France or Italy or Alaska–

Where you could see Russia from your house.

I love Alaska and she is just so alien to everything I love about it. You don’t have to run into Sarah Palin when you’re up there.

That kind of relates to your love of Argentina, where many people still associate it with Nazis and corrupt political officers and Eva Peron. Your book argues that no matter what physical state the country is in, you can still find beauty.

That’s a great point. I took refuge in a country that welcomed Nazis, that had this horrible dirty war against its own citizens, they killed horribly, and then wasted their money. The governments loved corruption there.

And here I am, traveling there to heal, and it’s okay. It worked. It may be counter-intuitive, you’d think I should go to the monastery and breathe clean air, but I found a lot of people there and one of them teaches yoga and does a lot of alternative healing.

It’s all just taking yourself out of the familiar, and there was something there that called me even amid all this corruption.

Now that Argentina is more familiar to you, do you have a next place on your travel list?

I definitely want to go back. I am only up here spending so much time because I wanted to take care of the book and promoting it.

I want to go back to Argentina and be with my community of friends and see more of Argentina, particularly near Salta which is near the Bolivian border. I understand you can get a sense of the indigenous culture there, which I kind of miss.

And I want to get to Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, now that it’s no longer a mystery to me. South America used to seem so far away and exotic. Now it’s a place I can call home. And then Asia…I’m ashamed to say that I haven’t really set foot in Asia.

I would like to go to India, make a pilgrimage of sorts, also because of my Zen background I would like to visit the monasteries in Kyoto.

And then I also just still thinking about Three Cups of Tea and I’m not gonna get to Pakistan right now, but he just makes those people-that’s what travel does, it makes you see people, not governments.

So will we be able to look out for Southeast Asia: A Love Story or South America: A Love Story from Seal Press any time soon?

I’m trying to talk to my editor. I need a new book! I hope so.

So do we. Thanks, Camille.

For more about Camille Cusumano, visit her website.

Feature photo by Flickmor. Photo above by teresia.

Ask Benyamin Cohen, and you’ll find that there’s a 50/50 chance you’re putting on your shoes in the wrong way.

However, the son of a rabbi (whose wife even became a member of the Tribe) and former editor-in-chief of American Jewish Life will also tell you that for a time he wondered if going to church was more fun than a Saturday morning at temple.

What started out as a month in the summer visiting different churches in the Atlanta area for an article for his Jewish version of Rolling Stone soon, with the help of a book deal, became a year full of Evangelical escapades, Baptist benders, and Christian carousing.

Yet beneath the big-picture trip along the Bible Belt was an even larger inner journey for Cohen.

In between Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and the release for his memoir-cum-travelogue, My Jesus Year, we chatted about that journey.

Photo by Thomas Hawk.

BNT: Born into a very Jewish family, how religious did you consider yourself growing up? How religious do you consider yourself to be now?

BENJAMIN: I grew up the son of an Orthodox rabbi who built a 1000-square-foot synagogue onto the side of our house. So I guess you could say I was religious.

We kept kosher, observed the Sabbath, and kept the 611 other laws prescribed in the Old Testament and hyper-explained in the thousands of Aramaic pages that make up the 20 encyclopedia-sized volumes of the Babylonian Talmud.

Odd items, too, like not being able use an umbrella on the Sabbath, or being told to put my right shoe on before my left one. This was how Judaism was taught to me as a kid-as one long legal theories class.

Now as adult, no longer living under the rabbinic roof of my father, I am able to experience Judaism in a new light. I no longer feel forced to do these things, but instead choose to do them on my own.

It’s an invigorating experience and one that came about because of the journey I took for My Jesus Year.

Photo by mudpig.

How did you make the jump from church wonder/envy as a kid to the adult notion of positioning church as an exotic destination (especially to members of the tribe)? Has this been something that stuck with you through the course of your life?

I don’t think our childhood sense of wonder ever really disappears. Not to mention that basic human psyche dictates that we always desire the things we can’t have.

Put those two things together and church became my snake, apple, and Garden of Eden all rolled into one. It simply became something I could no longer avoid if I had any notion of growing spiritually.

What compelled you to continue seeking out the Jesus experience once the article became a book?

I first spent just a summer going to church. While that short exposure to Christianity made for a good pitch for a magazine style piece, it left me unfulfilled in the spirituality department.

Would you consider this your first religious trip, or have you done the Israel tour as well? If so, how would you compare your religious experiences (no pun intended) in the American South versus the Holy Land?

I’ve been to Israel a couple times (my mother is buried there) and, truth be told, the Holy Land never really did anything for me on a spiritual level.

I didn’t have any “Aha” moment there. I guess the reason is because I’ve been on a constant religious journey my entire life. Not a day has gone by where Judaism wasn’t always front and center in my mind.

Even on the most basic level-from what kind of food I can eat to reciting a blessing every time I use the restroom (yet another Jewish law), my religion has never stopped being a strong force in my life.

Photo by Christopher Chan.

In the New Birth mega church story, you mention hoping to blend in (or at least not stand out too much). Ironically, a sentiment shared by many intrepid travelers who want to meld with their surroundings (and the surrounding people). In the end, do you think it was better to blend in or stick out?

Being the only Jew in church is not the most comfortable situation to be in. Having everyone know that you’re the only Jew in church is even more uncomfortable.

Almost everywhere I went, I wore a Jewish skullcap and press pass so I stuck out like…well, like a Jew in church. It certainly ended up being a better situation for me.

Despite my initial feelings of awkwardness, it allowed churchgoers to not only notice the stranger among them, but engage me in conversation as well. It’s how I met many of the people from my journey.

The overarching journey of this trip seems to be an inner journey-the son of an Orthodox rabbi coming to terms with his own religion and spirituality.

However, you have numerous interactions with natives to the Christian/Catholic faith (and a few mentions of invasion of personal space). How did these external encounters influence your internal journey?

I’m certainly a guy who likes having privacy and enjoying my personal space.

But, as I mentioned above, I don’t think I would have met as many people-people who ultimately influenced me on this spiritual pilgrimage-had it not been for these various encounters.

In a certain sense, the book becomes more about them, these religious characters I meet, and I become merely a fly on the wall observing them.

Photo by coda.

On a related note, churches (and other houses of worship) across the world have become tourist attractions (e.g., Notre Dame, the Vatican, St. John the Divine, etc.), yet many people visit when services are not being held.

How different do you think your trip would have been had you simply gone to church as a physical site rather than church as an event?

I don’t think the trip would’ve been the same at all. Going there for religious services-observing Christians in their natural habitat, so to speak-granted me access and insight I never would’ve been exposed to on a mere field trip.

Conversely, I went to a bunch of places that are not known for being houses of worship (baseball stadiums and Confederate memorials, just to name two) that were transformed into a church for the day.

Those instances, where faith and fandom met, made an even greater impression on me in some respect.

There’s a line between over-the-top and wholly spiritual that each congregation (and yourself) define differently between the different interactions.

Is Jesus becoming gentrified in a transformation similar to many urban neighborhoods? Or is there still a line between the physical space and the spiritual space that we occupy?

There’s a famous Jewish joke that says “Ask two Jews, get three opinions.”

What I discovered during this year was that there are more similarities than differences between Judaism and Christianity. And one of those similarities is the plethora of beliefs and opinions within different denominations.

There were some churches I attended that really brought Jesus into the 21st century.

One, for example, was a church that looked more like a coffeehouse, eschewing pews for couches and hipster lounge chairs. But at the same time, I visited churches and even a monastery where modernity was nowhere to be seen.

Each, in its own unique way, makes up the vast and varied collection of Christianity in this country.

Photo by skippy13.

In describing one church, you write in the original AJL piece: “the menorah on the wall, an absurdly placed Judaic symbol, scares the bejeezus out of me.”

Is the feeling similar to running into your boss while on vacation? You also begin the epilogue of the AJL piece with “It’s the following Sunday and I’ve woken up early in a sweat induced state of spiritual confusion. Is today the Sabbath? And whose Sabbath would that be?” Would you call that spiritual jet-lag?

I share many of those same sentiments in the book itself. I’m not sure if seeing a Jewish symbol in church is akin to seeing the boss on vacation.

Since my boss is Jewish, maybe it’s more like seeing my boss in church. I think it was more the shock of finding out that some Christians are a) very interested in Judaism, and b) even go so far as to bring Jewish symbols and even some holidays into their service.

After a year of going to church, I certainly felt some spiritual jet-lag. Besides actually being tired from going to such a myriad of services, I started to feel an odd sense of cognitive dissonance.

As I write in the book, I led the prayer services at synagogue one morning and just the day before I was attending a Catholic mass. I felt like a fraud. Here I was representing my congregation and, little did they know I had been jonesing with Jesus 24 hours earlier.

Well, I guess now that the book has been published, my secret’s out.

I find you make the point that travel is not about the destination as an inanimate object, but rather the experience you have once your there. Was this a deliberate point, or a serendipitous connection?

One of my favorite quotes is “Life is a journey, not a destination.” It’s a guiding principle that lights the way for most everything I do. So in that sense I’d say it was deliberate.

But, by the same token, I never could have planned all that I saw on my church-hopping adventure. The people I met, the places I went, the experiences I had-it was all serendipity played out right in from of me. It was, perhaps, divine intervention.

Visit the official book site for My Jesus Year to learn more.

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.

Tony enjoying a cool beverage.

Many people dream of traveling around the world. Only a few people get the chance — and even fewer circle the globe without the aid of an airplane.

Tony Robinson-Smith is one of those few.

Tony was living a fairly cushy life running an English school in Japan. But after five years, he was ready to shed his regimented lifestyle and tackle the world firsthand. What began as a study of a world map turned into a long, wiggly journey across hot sands, open roads, and stormy seas.

Five years and nine months later, his journey came full circle, and Tony published a travel memoir, >Back in 6 Years.

In this interview Tony reveals a little about his motivation, and what it was like to crawl around the world.

BNT: Tony, you wrote that your inspiration to travel around the world without flying came from Ted Simon, who wrote:

“It is no trick to go round the world these days. You can pay a lot of money and fly round it non-stop in less than forty-eight hours, but to know it, to smell it and feel it between your toes, you have to crawl.”

Is there anything that you would add to that quote?

Tony: I would add little to this quote because I think Simon clearly understood that surface travel is a combination of hardship and reward, and that the rewards are worth the hardship.

As the Shakespeare quote at the beginning of my book indicates, the greatest reward is indeed often gained by embracing the unpleasant.

Thus, I crawled, so to speak, and learnt many things, but the greatest lesson was that it was worth crawling.

I got the impression that the idea for your trip came out of restlessness and grew very quickly – even though you were living in Japan, you were tired of the routine. What else was behind your decision to take a sabbatical from the everyday?

The fact that I was living in Japan before deciding to take to the road is important. Japan is an orderly, duty-conscious and decorum-conscious nation where space is in short supply — roads are narrow, houses in towns and cities are built close together, and paddy fields cover much of the cultivatable countryside.

Resident foreigners must learn to make do with less physical space and, to succeed in work, they must conform to a fairly strict code of conduct.

After five years, I was ready to break out of this limiting environment, as I was feeling a bit like a caged bird!

I wished for the opposite of Japan: wide open spaces, wilderness, fewer sanctions on my conduct, unstilted conversations. I also felt that if I wanted to truly learn about the world, it would be best for me to go out and experience it firsthand.

Media reports cannot be trusted and are too readily digested as truth. I was confident that I would gain a more real, less skewed appreciation through direct experience.

I also nursed the belief that adventures happen to the adventurous and now was the time when a sustained period of global wandering would likely be rewarding and yield the extra-ordinary.

During the first part of your journey you seemed fairly lonely and uncomfortable and not really enjoying yourself. When you started out, was it less about the thrill of travel and more about completing a task that you had set for yourself?

Africa was certainly a rude awakening after Japan. In a short space of time, I switched from the regulated to the chaotic. In Japan, I had a cozy life – a steady job, good salary, apartment, friends, girlfriend.

The change brought discomfort, uncertainty and a measure of loneliness. The appeal of my self-imposed mission, to travel without flying, did give me something to focus my mind on while I adjusted to my new lifestyle, became less defensive and began to enjoy the ride.

Did you ever think of throwing in the towel and booking a flight home?

Sure. I got frustrated, bored, sick, tired and lonely many times and wished to return home, but these feelings never lasted.

I was aware from the start that circling the planet by land and sea would take time and test my patience and resolve, but I was convinced the rewards would make the long journey worthwhile.

As you know, I traveled in as many different ways as possible – bus, train, truck, bike, pirogue, yacht – and this helped keep the journey ‘fresh’ and stimulating.

I think I would have found it tougher had I traveled only one way. Stops for work also helped; returns to a routine quickened the appetite to be on the road once again.

The pace of the book really seemed to pick up in Canada. Did that mirror the pace of the trip?

Before Canada, I was traveling mostly in the less-developed world where, I guess, there were more delays, making the pace seem slower.

But the most convoluted and slowest stretch of my travels was through Asia.

When Nadya [Tony's now-wife whom he first met in Canada] came to see you in China, you said that she countered your “tendency to rush.” Which leg of the journey – if any – do you feel that you rushed?

I think there were times in Africa when I felt hounded or in peril, so I tended to keep moving. If I had been more at ease, I could have lingered longer and explored further on this fascinating continent.

Once in Anglophone Africa, visas weren’t necessary and frontiers were easier to cross. Maybe if Nadya had been around, the black line on my world map crossing Africa would have turned out wigglier!

Looking back – no regrets, of course! – what would you would do differently? Would you have learned a bit of Portuguese before entering Brazil, or listened to the voice in your head telling you not to sail long distances with an inexperienced crew?

Indeed, no regrets! I’ve written a lot about the sticky situations I got myself into and out of, and I think these serve to color the book, making it entertaining — instructive even.

A solo journey around the world by land and sea inevitably throws the intrepid traveler into trouble; in fact, he or she seeks it.

Having said that, it is wise to cross the Sahara Desert with a full jerry can of water rather than an empty one, and it is also wise to inspect the sailing vessel you will cross an ocean on carefully and assess its seaworthiness.

Also, as far as you are capable, be sure of the competency of its skipper and the mental stability of its crew.

What surprised you the most over those six years of traveling?

The willingness of strangers to help me out. In my hour of need, there was almost always someone about to offer a helping hand.

French expeditioners in jeeps bailing me out of the African jungle; the Hovington family in Canada feeding a hungry cyclist; an Australian [Leo Learoyd] who made our Indonesian canoeing adventure happen.

I was also surprised to discover that fortune indeed favors the bold. I refer to myself at the end of my travelogue as a “common or garden variety English teacher.”

I’m not especially practical and have no survival skills, but I was determined and my determination to succeed led to good fortune.

Now that you’re back and settled, do you feel that it was a once-in-a-lifetime thing? Is it out of your system, or do you think you’ll be itching to set off again? This time entirely on a bicycle, perhaps?

My journey was a rite of passage that answered the need I had at the end of my 20s to break away from a routine existence and discover the world for myself.

While on the road, I had the feeling that I would not travel this way, this far or for this long ever again.

My subsequent trips have been shorter and focused on single countries — I’m just back from the Kingdom of Bhutan in the Himalayas where I spent two years lecturing and traveling; the subject of my next book.

Having said this, I note that Ted Simon, my source of inspiration, retraced his wheel-tracks round the world some 40 years after his first world circuit.

It would be interesting to see how places have changed and write a book about that.

Be sure to check out Tony’s book Back in 6 Years: A Journey Around the World

Avraham Loewenthal in his studio / Photo Alexis Wolff

You likely wouldn’t look twice at 39-year-old Avraham Loewenthal if you passed him on the narrow cobblestone streets of Tzfat (also spelled Safed, Safad and Zefat), the ancient city in northern Israel that was the birthplace of Kabbalah, or Jewish mysticism.

Avraham’s head is covered by a large knit yarmulke, his face masked by a thick beard so long it hides his neck, and behind each ear hangs the curled tendril of hair that is custom of Haredi men.

In other words, Avraham fits right in.

But if you were to follow Avraham into his studio in Ma’ayan Haradum Square, the Tzfat Gallery of Mystical Art, and ask about one of the scores of contemporary paintings strewn about the small space, you might stand in shock as he speaks passionately about his works’ representation of basic principles of Kabbalah.

What he’s saying is interesting, but just as interesting is how he is saying it. This man who looks like any other Tzfat resident sounds American-Midwestern, in fact. That’s because before he was Avraham from Tzfat, he was Robert from Detroit.

I was so intrigued by a visit in March to Avraham’s Tzfat studio that I reconnected with him to discuss his thoughts on place, Kabbalah and art.

BNT: Tell me, first of all, a little about your life in America and how you ended up in Tzfat.

AL: I grew up in Southfield, Michigan in a Modern Orthodox Jewish family. I went to University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, taking different undergraduate classes with a psychology major. Then I studied painting at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.

During college I found myself interested in meditation. I started looking into Eastern meditation and then someone told me about the book Jewish Meditation by Aryeh Kaplan.

I was surprised to see that there is a very deep tradition of meditation within Judaism.

Sunset in Tzfat / Photo phogel

Over the next few years I read three more of his books, and collectively they changed my life. In simple and clear words he explains the deepest and most meaningful ideas I had ever encountered, and I wanted to learn more.

While I was in art school, I came to Jerusalem to study for a month in a yeshiva. It wasn’t a Kabbalistic yeshiva, but it was still the next step in my spiritual journey.

After art school I wanted to learn more about the Kabbalah, so I came to Israel for six months as part of an artist-in-residence program in Arad, a city in the Negev Desert.

While I was there I visited Tzfat, and I knew immediately that this was what I had come to Israel for. Tzfat is one of the holiest cities in the world and the world center of Kabbalah. I found teachers here and a most beautiful community of spiritual people.

I came to Tzfat to learn Kabbalah, but there also happens to be an artist colony here. This allowed me to open up a gallery and combine my Kabbalah learning with my painting.

I have been living here now for about 13 years, studying Kabbalah and painting pictures based on ideas I am learning in the Kabbalah.

BNT: As someone who has called two very different places home, how much or little do you think where we live affects who we are?

AL: It says in the Kabbalah that a person’s environment influences him or her so much.

What people around us give importance to, think about and desire start to become the things that we talk about, give importance to and desire-so much so that even though we always have free will, on some level we only make one major decision in our lives… where we live and who we spend our time with.

The books we read are also considered people we are spending time with, as we are connecting to the consciousness of the author.

This is one of the reasons that Tzfat is such a spiritually powerful place. Since so many people here are giving great importance to their spirituality, these are the conversations going on.

BNT: Even though Tzfat felt comfortable to you from the beginning, was there anything difficult about adjusting from your American life to your Israeli one?

When I first realized that I wanted to live in Israel, I thought I would need to give up a lot of material comforts. But I haven’t. I have found only blessings living here.

Painting by Avraham Loewenthal

I do miss some of my old friends from where I grew up, but I married a woman, Rebecca, from Baltimore, who I met about six years ago at Shabbat dinner hosted by some friends down the block.

We have been blessed with two children, Ashira Rachel who is now three years old and Hillel Netzach who is nine months old.

One thing that did take some getting used to was my name. I was given the Hebrew name Avraham when I was born, but I was also given the English name Robert. I went most of my life using my English name.

One day before I was thinking about it, and I had a realization that my deepest name is Avraham.

I like the name Robert, but I realized that the name Avraham was given to me after my great-grandfather, who was named after his ancestor, who was named after his ancestor, and so on for 4,000 years.

When I game to Israel for the artist-in-residence program, I started to have people call me Avraham instead of Robert, and at first that was strange for me. Someone would call my name and I wouldn’t even know they were talking to me. But I soon got used to it, and it was a very big transformation.

It actually says in the Kabbalah that a person’s soul has a deep connection to their name, and one piece of advice given for someone (in certain circumstances) wanting to make a big life change is to change their name.

BNT: How interesting that you married a woman from Baltimore. Does Tzfat have a large American expatriate population, and if so, what about Tzfat do you think appeals to Americans?

AL: There are many former Americans here of all ages. Whether they come for a few hours, a day or two, weeks, months, years or forever, they become part of a community that is like a big family.

There is a distinct English-speaking community and a distinct Hebrew-speaking community, but these communities overlap and intertwine. Most everyone is here for the vibrant spiritual environment.

BNT: Tell me more about how your express your spirituality through your artwork. Can you explain how the principles of Kabbalah are represented in one particular piece?

AL: The main theme of the Kabbalah expressed in most of my artwork is the idea that at the root of all of our spiritual work in this world is coming to truly care for one another as we care for ourselves.

The picture here is a quote from the Torah. It can be translated as, “There is nothing but G-d.” There is a great deal of discussion in the Kabbalah about the meaning of this verse, but one of the ideas is that nothing in our life is a coincidence.

Even the most difficult and painful situations are actually on the deepest level hidden blessings because they help our souls come to a place that will be ready to finally experience infinite goodness.

BNT: I have to ask, what do you think about celebrities like Madonna taking up Kabbalah?

AL: Many people are critical of celebrities studying Kabbalah and also of it coming out in the world in different “pop” levels of learning. I don’t agree with this criticism. We have no idea what anyone else’s spiritual work is, so we cannot judge their path. We can only look inside ourselves.

Ancient prophecies say that the revelation of the inner teachings of the Kabbalah to everyone will be part of the spiritual transformation in the world, when six billion people finally come to truly care for one another.

I think that the Kabbalah coming out in the world today in a very big way, even if a lot of it is on a very “pop” level, is the beginning of the fulfillment of these ancient prophesies.

BNT: I’m curious how Avraham from Tzfat, formerly Robert from Detroit, defines himself these days: as an American expatriate, a Tzfat resident, a Jew, an artist? None of the above?

AL: At this moment I would define myself as an eternal soul trying to realize my spiritual essence and connect to the unconditional love that is the divine source of our every moment.

To see more of Avraham Loewenthal’s art, visit The Tzfat Gallery of Mystical Art.

Christopher Rufo and Keith Ochwat / Roughing It Creators

Drinking and travel tend to go hand in hand.

Think of Munich and you can’t help but envision Oktoberfest. Imagine Russia, you inevitably conjure up endless rounds of vodka. Japan equals sake; Mexico, tequila; Italy, wine; Scotland, Scotch.

As Christopher Rufo and Keith Ochwat will tell you, Mongolia means fermented horse’s milk.

Christopher and Keith abandoned their careers in order to travel to northern Asia with nothing but a backpack and some camera equipment. The result is the riveting PBS documentary Roughing It: Mongolia.

Filmed by Christopher and hosted by Keith, Roughing It: Mongolia encompasses everything from traditional throat singing to reindeer herding to a local wedding to the country’s aforementioned national drink.

National Geographic’s standout Intelligent Travel blog, praised the duo for “succeed[ing] in capturing honest scenes with unique personalities,” and the New York Times noted that both men have “a good eye for the unusual.”

With a future series encompassing the South Pacific in the works for PBS, we recently spoke with both Christopher and Keith about the inspiration for Roughing It.

BNT: In a previous interview at BNT, travel writer David Farley said:

“I think because the suburbs were so sterile and so aesthetically redundant, I developed a passion for putting myself in environments that were antipodal to where I grew up. I didn’t know that I wanted to be a travel writer at the time, but this was when I vowed to create a life for myself that involved as much travel and as little routine as possible.”

Would you say that’s how you fell into traveling and travel documentaries as well?

Shooting the herd / Photo Rouging It

CR: I’m not sure that’s exactly it. In my travels abroad, I’ve met a lot of Westerners who seem to have totally rejected their home countries.

I just can’t understand this attitude. The more I travel abroad, the more I discover my appreciation for the United States. Keith and I grew up together in Sacramento, California, and, despite its drawbacks and relative sterility, we both love spending time there.

Travel is not so much a rejection of home as the desire to go beyond it. If anything, it’s the ease of suburban life that needs to be escaped from time to time.

Whenever I’m sick or frustrated during a journey, I remind myself that the word “travel” comes from the French travaille, meaning “to work” or “to toil.” There is a lot of wisdom in this etymology.

BNT: You started Roughing It with a focus on Mongolia; why did you pick that country in particular?

KO: Our goal with the Roughing It series is to travel to the world’s most remote and exotic places, and tell stories that have not been told to a broad American audience.

Chris and I have chosen travel destinations in the past by literally throwing a dart at a map, but we put a bit more thought into choosing our inaugural Roughing It location.

Originally, we were considering a program taking us and our viewers along the Trans-Siberian Railway. As Chris and I mulled over the possibility of spending weeks on a train, we thought focusing on one area would be a better fit and a more pleasant experience.

We chose Mongolia. It’s a remote country that most people know very little about, including ourselves at the time, and when we heard that Mongolia’s national alcohol is fermented horse milk, it sealed the deal.

BNT: Why the medium of film over, say, a travel book? Were either of you film majors?

CR: Neither of us studied film, and I think, in the end, it’s better that way. Some people can really thrive in a film school environment, but just as many can be stifled.

If you have passion and a vision, I think the technical knowledge will come quickly.

As far as the medium, there is a strong prejudice against the travel film as somewhat inferior to other forms of documentary. For a long time, too, travel writing was seen as sub-literary. When people heard “travel writing,” they thought guidebooks and information for tourists.

That changed in the 1970s and 1980s with writers like Colin Thubron, Paul Theroux, and Bruce Chatwin. Chatwin used to go into bookstores and see his books next to “Maui on a Shoestring.” He thought, rightly, that his books should be under Literature.

And, after some time, book publishers, sellers, reviewers, and readers started to agree with him.

I think the travel documentary is behind travel literature by about 30 years. It’s still stuck in “Maui on a Shoestring” and “Eat a Live Scorpion.” The one major exception is Michael Palin. His Himalaya, in particular, was a major influence for us.

In Mongolia, we would always joke: “What would Palin do?” When I look back at the film, it’s clear that we weren’t joking. Palin’s influence is definitely there, and I’m happy with it.

BNT: Who are your inspirations for travel? What travel writers are on your bookshelves?

Boy and his horse / Photo Rouging It

CR: Personally, I’m definitely more influenced by travel writers than travel filmmakers. There are filmmakers and photographers who inspire me visually–Cartier-Bresson is an influence, as is Werner Herzog.

More recently, the cinematography in Sean Penn’s Into the Wild was incredible. But, with Palin being the exception, it’s the travel writers who are really creating something meaningful and lasting.

People talk a lot about “travel attitude,” and I couldn’t think of a better one than Colin Thubron’s. He’s so impressive and erudite, and at the same time so humble and self-effacing. His book In Siberia is a masterpiece.

He captures the most incredible details and characters, and holds it all together with tight thematic interests and larger socio-historical questions. Erudition, adventure, poetic sensibility–he really sets the gold standard.

BNT: In other interviews, you’ve alluded to interviewing Mongolian President Nambaryn Enkhbayar. How did that not manage to make it into the final cut?

KO: Roughing It: Mongolia was originally intended to be an hour long program.

What we found as we shopped around our program to PBS and other distributors was that the strengths of our program and what sets ours apart from other travel shows is not the scenes where I was interviewing the President, or the leading religious figure in Mongolia.

Rather Roughing It really stood out in the scenes where we focus on interacting with Mongolians-when I try throat singing with a local throat singing group, when I camp out with nomadic reindeer herders, when I pathetically attempt to dethrone a provincial wrestling champion.

So after months and months of editing, and re-editing, we ultimately decided to make the show a half hour program focusing on the most interactive scenes, which were also the scenes that present viewers with the most candid window into Mongolian culture.

But don’t worry; our DVD has all the deleted scenes including our interview with the Mongolian Head of State.

BNT: Also on the topic of scenes that were cut, who won in the wrestling match between Keith and Olympic silver medalist Jamstying Davaajav?

KO: After my match with the provincial wrestling champion at the Naadam festival, I felt like I needed a few pointers so that next time around I wouldn’t walk away with a skinned knee and teary eyes. Who better to get wrestling tips from then Mongolia’s most accomplished Olympian?

The problem was that my ‘lesson’ was more of barrage of throws that left me flat on my back pretty much the entire time. I will say though, and Chris can substantiate this, Jamstying complimented me on my strong arms.

BNT: You seemed to travel with a light, even nomadic load while in Mongolia. What do you absolutely have to have? What’s one item you’ve left behind that you normally would feel glued to?

KO: Whenever I travel, I relish in the fact that I get to escape my cell phone. With all the calls Chris and I have had to make in promoting Roughing It and getting the series off the ground, I feel like it’s just another appendage.

Traveling light is an absolute must when you’re on the move as much as we had to be during production. I pity those backpackers who have bags strapped to their bodies that look as big as them.

When I’m packing my essentials, I never forget some pepto bismol, a good book, and my journal.

BNT: Finally, what’s up next for Roughing It?

CR: Right now, we’re in development for an eight-part PBS series called Roughing It: The Great Pacific.

We’re going to shoot more verité and really bring up our production value. And, most importantly, we’ll continue to find the most interesting people in the places we visit and tell their stories in the most compelling way.

It’s going to be six months of adventure through some of the most exotic and remote countries on the planet: Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, the Philippines, Papua New Guinea, and East Timor. We’re expecting a Fall 2009 release.

In the meantime, I’m finishing up production on a feature documentary called Diamond in the Dunes, which is the story of a Muslim baseball team in China’s Far West. We hope to start the festival circuit early next year.

Learn more about Roughing It: Mongolia and even watch a few video clips.

Brook Silva-Braga, filmmaker

The story goes like this: Emmy winning producer Brook Silva-Braga left his cushy gig with the TV network HBO to travel the world with five pounds of clothes and 30 pounds of video equipment.

He left because he wanted to experience the “round-the-world” trip, before life caught up with him and the window of opportunity would be lost forever.

Brook documented the entire journey, and created the soulful film about the experience – titled A Map For Saturday.

I confess. I didn’t want to like the film before I watched it. On some level, I felt the world of backpacking was selfishly my own. To have a filmmaker delve into this world, on his own journey of discovery, felt like he was encroaching on my own experiences.

Turns out: the film is excellent. Beautifully shot. Artfully edited. And profiles what life is truly like on the road.

I felt compelled to contact Brook for an interview about his film. Here’s what we discussed.

BNT: What was the hardest part about deciding to leave your job and travel the world?

Brook: There weren’t negative judgments, really. Everyone was supportive, they just all had reasons why it wasn’t right for them. The only reason I could think of not to go was the damage it could do to the career I’d been working for.

So making the documentary was a way to not feel like I was totally throwing that career away. Overall the decision wasn’t that hard. I got it in my head that an around-the-world trip was something I had to do before I died and this was the best time to do it.

Were there certain pre-conceptions you had about long-term travel and life on the road, that turned out to be totally different than you expected?

I thought it would all be a lot harder than it was. One of the first revelations of my trip was how easy long-term travel can be. The flip side was the loneliness I sometimes felt and probably didn’t fully expect before I left.

Curious children and the camera / Photo Brook Silva-Braga

Which came first, the idea for the trip, or the idea for the documentary?

Like I said, the documentary was really just a way to convince myself the trip wasn’t such a professionally destructive enterprise.

It was a bit of a fools bargain though because these types of independent films have a lot of trouble finding an audience. My ignorance was probably really helpful and I just ended up getting really lucky that it did so well.

What were the biggest challenges of carrying all the gear with you on the road?

Well it meant I had to be pretty ruthless with my packing of “discretionary items.” I only had about five pounds of clothes and no tent or even sleeping bag. But I found there’s almost nothing you can’t get by without.

At one point in your film, you talk about how Americans are conditioned to “binge vacation” – that is, cramming their escape into 2 weeks per year, before coming back to the daily grind. Why do you think Americans trade their free time for money/job security?

It’s in our culture. I read awhile ago that the hourly productivity of American and European workers is equal but we’re richer largely because we work more hours.

I just came from Africa where there’s clearly a prioritizing of free time over work despite the poor economic conditions so many Africans face.

There’s no simple way to explain why one culture develops one way or another, just look at how much more common long-term travel is for Canadians than Americans despite all the connections between the U.S. and Canada.

But America’s hard work has given us a prosperity that allows us to enjoy more free time if we curtail our consumption. The lure of consumption must be great (or perhaps people are unaware of the joys of personal time) because there sure is a lot consuming going on.

Who benefits from pushing that type of mentality?

Well you seem to be leading me towards an economic/sociological judgment that I’m probably not qualified to make. On a macro scale, certainly our country’s economic strength has been created by the commitment to work (and consumption) of Americans. My personal experience though is that I’m happier when I work and consume a bit less.

What’s the most effective way to show other people that long-term travel isn’t so scary?

Well I suppose it depends on the type of fear. My sister is afraid of dirty hostel bathrooms. Some friends are afraid of not having a home to return to at night, or a job to go back to at the end of their trip.

To me the most powerful evidence in support of long-term travel is this: I’ve never met someone who gave it a try and didn’t like it. It’s only people who don’t go who can list all the problems with it.

You’ve just got back from a 5 month trip to Africa working on your next documentary. Any hint as to what’s it’s about?

Yeah, its going to be called “One Day in Africa” and follow five or six people from different parts of the continent on a single day in their life.

There’s a college student, a rural farmer, an expecting mother. My hope is to show a more nuanced version of life in Africa than the devastatingly dire or falsely hopeful stories we see so often.

It should hit film festivals in early ‘09 and a trailer should make it to cyberspace this fall. I need to go edit!

For more Brooke Silva-Braga, check out his personal site and the film A Map For Saturday.

Feature image by Jay Russell

It was a Monday morning in May of 1969 and the then-14-year-old Levitan should have been getting ready to go to school.

Instead he grabbed his brother’s Super-8 camera and at 7am headed downtown to the King Edward Hotel where he had a sneaking suspicion John Lennon might be after hearing the Beatle had been spotted the night before at Toronto’s Pearson Airport.

Levitan entered the hotel, zoomed up to the top floor, and knocked on every door, hoping one would lead to the musical icon he’d always dreamed of meeting. A housekeeper saw him and asked if he was looking for ‘the Beatle.’

He said he was and she directed him to another room a few floors down. He saw Yoko Ono’s daughter Kyoko playing outside one of the rooms and knew he’d found “the centre of all things.”

Read the full article from CityNews.

If that wasn’t enough food for thought, consider this quote from Steven Yates in “The Boiling Frog Syndrome,” where he mirrors John in describing the problem with violent revolutions:

Large scale revolutions attempting to change all the institutions of society at once make it impossible for anyone – including the revolutionaries – to plan rationally. This is why, with very rare exceptions such as our own War for American Independence, they tend to leave everything worse off than it was before…

Thus revolutions tend to bring about bloody dictatorships rather than improved social systems by forcing abrupt change on entire, complex societies (political arrangements, economic relations, etc., at multiple levels) and they destabilize everything.

Relations that have formed over generations are suddenly broken apart. Human beings, like all systems, dislike instability intensely. In practice, they will turn to the first person who promises to restore stability to the system, and that person is usually a dictator who clamps down on the entire society from the center.

What do you think of Lennon’s thoughts on creating sustainable peace? Share in the comments!

On the trail / Photo Dan White

Dan White was 25 and working an unfulfilling newspaper job in small-town Connecticut when he dropped everything and headed west with his girlfriend Allison for what he envisioned as “an American safari.”

Their terrain was the Pacific Crest Trail, which begins in the Mexican desert and stretches north through 24 national parks, 33 wildernesses and six out of the seven North American climate zones to end 2,650 miles later in Canada, which by the time hikers arrive is in the middle of winter.

Never mind that Dan and Allison were novice outdoorsmen.

Never mind that they started their walk late in the season, which meant many of their days would be short and cold. They were determined to walk the entire PCT, no matter what obstacles they encountered-and they encountered many.

Dan’s humorous yet poignant tale of these misadventures, The Cactus Eaters: How I Lost My Mind – and Almost Found Myself – on the Pacific Crest Trail, has received much attention and praise since it was released in May.

I caught up with him to talk about his book and how the trail made him a better person.

BNT: It’s becoming increasingly common for 20-somethings to take a break from their professional lives and spend a year or so chasing an adventure. Were things different in 1993 when you took off for the PCT?

Dan: In some ways, they were scarily similar. Allison and I decided to hike the trail during another national recession. It was quite a bad one.

Businesses were folding left and right, and there were these avalanches of layoffs. This meant that when you did something impulsive, there were immediate consequences if you messed it up.

The moment we left our newspaper jobs, those jobs were erased from the rolls forever. It was a very serious situation – and it underscores our impulsiveness at the time, and our desperate need to escape from our lives.

When you leave a stable job to do something on a whim, and the economy is booming, that’s one thing. But we inadvertently set up a situation in which we had no choice but carry on with the trail, no matter what happened to us out there.

We had no place to live and no jobs that someone was holding open for us. Our life aside from the trail was kind of a blank slate – and that’s one of the reasons we stuck with doing it, even though we were obviously in over our heads.

Let’s talk about your book. When you were writing it, did you conceptualize it as a work of travel writing, humor, memoir, or something else?

I think of the book as a “hero’s journey’” but with an odd hero and heroine. Take your classic hero traits and at first it seems you won’t find any of them here.

At times I was a kvetcher and a navel-gazer, not a likely survivalist, and Allison was this clean-scrubbed Midwestern girl who was forced into this crazy situation. And I think all those elements make this book a memoir-comedy, with some tragic elements thrown into the mix.

Let me put it this way. Nothing about this journey was the slightest bit funny during the actual journey.

I had to set aside the memories and let them marinate for a while. After a few years, I got to the point where I could look at myself – and at Allison – with the right amount of distance.

You are an endearing narrator in large part because of your mistakes. Is there one you still can’t believe you made?

Well, I have to say that the cactus sucking and chewing incident is the one that still gets to me.

I am referring to an infamous scene in which I shove a large piece of cactus in my mouth and start chewing on it without even trying to remove the spines beforehand.

I should be grateful that the incident provided a title and central focus for the book – that moment where anyone else but us would have said “forget this” and given up – but I must admit that the scene still embarrasses me, and I get so thirsty when I read it out loud.

It’s considered a comedic highlight of the book, but I still haven’t forgiven myself for doing that. In fact, the incident was so extreme that I emailed Allison and I asked her, “Did this really happen? Could I have done such a thing?” She said, “Oh yeah, you sure did. You were out of your mind!”

Do you think your journey-and your book-would have been different had you been more experienced?

Starting to lose it / Photo Dan White

Well, I do think that it’s possible to have a really strong adventure story and be an extremely competent outdoorsman, mostly because nature is so unsentimental and nature can make fool of us all, no matter how much we think we know.

I read a book by John Haines, a poet who worked a trap line in Alaska.

It’s hard to imagine a more seasoned survivalist, but there are still moments of tension because he’s up against irresistible forces, such as hunger and gnawing cold, and his need to kill, and use a certain amount of brutality, just to survive.

The same holds true with Alone, the book about Admiral Richard Byrd trying to survive a Polar winter. No matter how competent you think you are, you always come up against the elements and your own weaknesses.

In my case, being a greenhorn and being impulsive served the story because it increased the scale of the adventure, and the likelihood of failure. Inexperience forced me to compensate in a big way with other traits, such as perseverance and obsessive dedication.

In some ways, I went really overboard. I know that it’s a “warts-and-all” portrait of a walker who in some ways was silly and terribly self-involved. But the PCT was kind of a finishing school for me. It might sound sentimental to say it, but I’m a better person for walking the path.

So this trip was pivotal in your life?

Absolutely. It shaped me in many ways. I know that the subtitle implies that my vision quest was kind of a wash, but really, I learned more about myself – about my flaws, about the best and worst sides of me – from that one walk.

Some of the lessons did not even unfold along the trail. It took such a long time for the lessons to really sink in – and some of them really came to me following a very difficult post-trail adjustment period.

There’s this American tradition that started with John Muir, this whole idea of using the wilderness to mend the broken pieces of yourself. For me that is definitely true.

I’m much more patient because of that trail. I have more empathy now, because in some respects I failed to show proper empathy on the actual walk and regret that. Even my pain threshold is somewhat higher now!

Did you think at the time that the experience might be something you’d one day write about?

Well, I had some sense, but it was the wrong sense. I had this vague idea that I might do a silly, cutesy little book of fumbling around in the woods.

Yosemite National Park / Photo Dan White

The strange thing is, you can see that self-consciousness, that searching for material, when you read the first two or three diary entries from the trail. But I soon abandoned the idea of ever doing a book at all and started concentrating on just surviving out there and trying to finish what I started.

The diary entries get much more raw and more “real.” So I ended up doing most of the journey while having no idea that a book would come out one day.

Sometimes I even feel a little guilty that I’ve co-opted the writings of a younger self who didn’t know that his foibles and excesses would be read by thousands of people.

Do you think good travel books can come from experiences where writing is the intention?

I am sure that Bill Bryson had a book contract prior to setting off on the Appalachian Trail – and that book is a true classic as far as I’m concerned.

But my book would not have been the same if I’d set out with the idea of writing something about it. I think it would have been much more self-conscious and constricted in some ways.

What made you decide that you wanted to tell this story?

It was one of those situations where you’ve lived through something but aren’t done with it. In one respect it was interior; it was this whole idea of writing something out so I could make sense of it.

How did things go so haywire? Why was I so ridiculous sometimes out there, and so extreme? Why didn’t I just up and quit? And why didn’t Allison just up and quit? What was in it for her? Why didn’t she quit the thing – and why did she stick with the trail – and me?

Do you still hike?

Yes, but on a much smaller scale and with fewer expectations.

What would you tell someone who’s considering making a similar journey?

Prepare yourself. Be open to beauty and wonder, but brace yourself for chaos.

For more Dan White, check out his website.

Max Simon, getting self centered.

When you hear someone is self-centered, this is usually a clue to run in the other direction. So how is Max Simon building a whole movement based on it?

Well, this form of focusing on the self, or being “selfcentered,” is about reconnecting to the inner self through silence and meditation, rather than about being selfish.

Simon, a meditation teacher and son of The Chopra Center’s co-founder, David Simon, kicked off The Self Centered Tour in November 2007.

His purpose is to attract the youth he found was missing as he taught meditation throughout the United States the last four years.

In the few short months since the organization began, they’ve managed to train Awareness Architects (meditation teachers) throughout the country and hold several PDMs (Public Display of Meditation), including one in front of ground zero for a consumption nation, Louis Vuitton in Beverly Hills.

They’ve also gotten the backing of not only the Chopra Center, but Apl of the Black Eyed Peas.

Busy working toward getting one million people selfcentered, Max recently took some time out to answer questions about where this movement is heading.

BNT: After perusing The selfcentered Tour website, it seems you’re taking an age-old concept, one that has been an aspect of most religions-silence-and are bringing it to today’s youth in a form they can understand and relate to.

Do you think there are any parts of more traditional meditation practices, such as Buddhism or Hinduism, that you are missing by taking this approach?

MS: Our goal is simple: get millions of young people to meditate. To do it, we have taken the dogma out, the new-ageyness out, and the stigma out, and replaced it with a fresh vibe that allows for individual expression and modern day living.

During our events, each person learns everything they need to know about how to quiet their mind chatter and tap into their authentic stillness. Once they learn the tools, we have some very beautiful next steps that allow for a deeper conversation about how to live a selfcentered life (authentic, grounded, clear, and self-aware).

So with all this in mind, I feel like our programs are very complete based upon what the world is asking for right now.

BNT: Why do you think this tour, or movement, is important at this time in history? Is working at the grassroots level imperative to its success?

MS: There’s too much buzz right now and people are avidly seeking a way to cope. Our meditation inspired revolution for authenticity seekers provides a solution, which is why people are turning other people on to it.

Once you have a powerful experience where you feel better then you ever have, then the next step is to share it with your friends. Since everything we do is in-person, the grass roots piece is necessary, exciting, and a lot of fun.

BNT: In one of your previous interviews, you noted that your teenage years were filled with the typical partying that occurs at that age, even though you were surrounded by many people who were living an alternative health lifestyle.

What stimulated your shift to a more “authentic” lifestyle, and can you define what that “authenticity” means?

You can do it as a group / Photo selfcentered

MS: I woke up one morning (literally and figuratively) and decided it was time for a change. With that shift in desire, I came back to meditation and my entire world transformed.

At 22, I became the youngest yoga, meditation, and Ayurveda teacher in the world-renowned Chopra Center’s history. Then again at 24, I realized that it was time for me to transform again, but this time it was to a new school leader of consciousness.

To me, this meant representing who I truly am, a 26 year old guy that loves the real world, and a meditator that realizes that the deeper meaning behind the material. Our movement was founded on the desire to inspire others to use these technologies (meditation, breath, etc) to allow them to get clear, connected, and excited about their true authenticity.

BNT: Working in the holistic health field, I understand how hard it can be to shift perspectives and help people redefine their view of health and happiness.

Considering your background (son of integrative practitioner David Simon, being surrounded since a very young age by alternative systems such as Ayurveda, etc.), how do you relate to people who think meditation is still too “hippy-dippy”, say they don’t have time, or say they’ve tried and it’s too hard?

MS: Take a look at our Awareness Architects (teachers), website, materials, and products and it’s pretty clear that we’re not falling into an old-school paradigm.

Everything we do has a fresh spin, uses fresh language, and has a fresh vibe, because that’s who we are. Since we are a part of the age group we want to reach, it’s really easy to avoid misconceptions because we walk the walk and talk the talk.

BNT: You make it clear The selfcentered Tour is geared toward youth, and the movement seems to come off as ‘sexy in a spiritual kind of way’.

Do you also hope to grab a wider audience, such as those in their 30s and 40s who still consider themselves youthful, and may be at a time in their lives where they are doing more soul-searching than in their 20s?

MS: Everyone is welcome in our movement because meditation is timeless. That being said, our focus is on the next generation because our mission is to train teachers, not gather students.

The young people seem to be hungriest to make an impact on the planet so they’re excited about becoming Awareness Architects (teachers) and getting out to there inspire the world get selfcentered.

If people from other generations want to join us; rock on. Just know that I will challenge you to step up and get involved.

BNT: I, being a woman, of course like the sound of Chocolate Meditation. Can you tell me more about that?

MS: It’s delicious (haha), and a definite crowd pleaser. A chocolate meditation allows you to experience the profound effects of engaging the senses from a clear, connected, conscious place.

When you slow down, breath, and settle into your space, the world comes alive. When you introduce chocolate into that moment, it becomes sensory indulgence. It doesn’t hurt that we’re using the most amazing fair trade organic chocolate from Theo Chocolates!

Everything we do is experiential so that you can feel the wisdom.

BNT: Where do you see The selfcentered Tour going after you have reached your goal of getting one million people to connect to their inner-selves?

MS: Getting two million people to get selfcentered.

To learn more, visit the Self Centered website.

What do you think of Max’s mission? Share your thoughts in the comments!

More recently he has become a sort of Indiana Jones for the Gen-X set (his current book is on the search for Jesus Christ’s foreskin which, up until 1983, was allegedly preserved in the Italian hill-town of Calcata).

While Farley’s website is a voyeur’s dream (it holds most of his articles for your reading enjoyment), it still begs enough questions to last a keg of Pilsner Urquell. Recently, we were able to ask David a few of those questions (sadly minus the beer).

BNT: So, how goes the quest for the Holy Foreskin?

I’m trying to remain mum about it until the book comes out in Spring 2009, which isn’t easy because I love talking about Jesus’ foreskin (and, really, who doesn’t?)

But for now I’ll say that the quest for the Holy Foreskin is complete. If you want to take that as an answer to the question of whether or not I actually found the Holy Foreskin, you’re certainly welcome to.

BNT: You didn’t set out to be a writer; what made you take up the written road?

I wish I could say I was one of those kids who had some intrinsic desire to be a writer from an early age-writing books with crayons when I was five years old, and so on-but my childhood fantasies were mostly occupied by rescuing Princess Leia, hitting a game-winning home run in the bottom of the ninth inning at Dodger Stadium and becoming a rock star (in that order, thankfully).

When I lived in Prague, in my mid-20s, I had a lot of unique and bizarre experiences (such as watching a pig get slaughtered in the Czech hinterlands and living with a varnish-sniffing addict whose only English was the lyrics to classic rock songs) and I’d often think: if I were a writer, this would make a great story.

When I did start writing a couple years later, those were some of the first stories I tried to write.

So it turns out, I did have these subconscious desires to write-in my case, about my travel experiences-but it didn’t emerge until I was in my mid-20s or so.

BNT: What hooked you into traveling?

I grew up in a Los Angeles suburb called Simi Valley. Though it was just over the hill from Los Angeles County and the San Fernando Valley, the town of had little by way of “worldliness.”

There were two Chinese restaurants (one of which was called ‘The Chinaman,’ by the way); one bookstore (if you don’t include the two Christian bookstores), and one Japanese restaurant. This was a town of 100,000 people on the periphery of America’s second largest and, perhaps, most culturally diverse city.

I never really fit in with the center-right-wing, mono-cultural aesthetic that seemed to pervade everything in Simi Valley. So, I vowed to flee as soon as possible, which I did. In college I took a trip to Europe with one of my professors and I became enraptured about seeing the rest of the world.

I think because the suburbs were so sterile and so aesthetically redundant, I developed a passion for putting myself in environments that were antipodal to where I grew up. I didn’t know that I wanted to be a travel writer at the time, but this was when I vowed to create a life for myself that involved as much travel and as little routine as possible.

BNT: One of your first travel articles is on eloping in Rome. Was it everything you expected it to be, or did you miss Kool and the Gang and the open bar?

I do love an open bar (as many of my friends will attest) and who doesn’t love Kool and the Gang? But every time I go to a wedding, I think about how glad I am that we took off to Rome to get married. Nothing against the traditional wedding, but there’s just so much pressure and stress.

Eloping to Rome seemed more adventurous and romantic anyway.

BNT: Your arsenal of articles is centered mainly on the Czech Republic (and Italy). With the help of Traveler’s Tales Prague, do you find yourself pigeonholed as The Prague Guy?

“Arsenal of articles.” I like that. One strategy I’ve tried in terms of getting travel assignments has been having a beat-pick a place you know well and focus on it.

Get some pieces published and/or write or edit a collection of travel essays on the place and, in theory, you become an authority. So when you pitch an article on the place, you won’t have to do much convincing that you’re the perfect person to write it.

I had a fair amount of articles on the Czech Republic published before the book came out and in the run up to the book’s publication, I sent out a bunch of article pitches on all things Czech, certain I’d be able to ride the book’s coat tails to a few high-profile assignments. No one bit.

After the book’s release failed to help get me any assignments, I decided that Prague and I needed some space.

BNT: Has Prague lost any of its luster for you with the flood of tourists? What do you think will be the new Prague?

Prague was also flooded with tourists when I lived there in the mid to late ‘90s too, but most of the travelers were European. It was odd how an EU entry suddenly made the place “safe” for the Rick Steves set to venture to the “East.”

Before a few years ago, I think a lot of people had this idea that on the other side of the old Iron Curtain you’d still see people queuing for bread and the toilets would have cardboard for toilet paper.

As for the “new Prague,” it was, is, and always will be the village of New Prague, Minnesota.

BNT: What was it like working with your wife on Traveler’s Tales: Prague? Have you collaborated on anything else since?

Curiously enough, the collaboration didn’t result in many fights. None actually. We agreed unanimously on the stories we thought were the best fit for the book.

We haven’t collaborated on anything since, as we’re both working on our own book projects. When we first met, we came up with this idea of putting together an anthology of stories about getting caught masturbating and calling it Doesn’t Anyone Knock Anymore? (a reference to the “getting caught” scene in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.)

But when we realized that all the stories would be very short-and, in general, quite similar to each other-the project lost some of its excitement.

BNT: How do you find time to work in between traveling? Does splitting your time between Calcata and New York help or hurt matters?

In terms of freelance writing, it’s really the best of both worlds. New York is a great place to be because most of the magazines are based here and you end up meeting a lot of editors and other writers at parties and media events or through friends.

Being in Italy for an extended period of time is beneficial: you’re already there, so a publication doesn’t have to pay for you to fly there and, because you’re there, you appear as an “insider,” thus making you an attractive candidate to get an Italy-based assignment.

Also, if you’re living there, you’re much more in tune with what’s going on, so coming up with good angles for articles is much easier. In terms of being “in between” assignments, I pay the rent by teaching travel writing (at New York University) and working as an editor and a restaurant critic at a foodie site called Gayot.com.

BNT: Even as a travel writer, do you ever feel American Tourist Guilt? Or do you tend to be able to blend in with your surroundings?

People seem to dress a particular way when they’re on vacation. But I think we get a lot more respect if we dress up while on the road. For that reason, I dress the same way when I’m on the road as I do in New York.

Besides that, I don’t want to be pegged as an American since we’re hated around the world more than ever these days. So if not wanting to be recognized right away as American is “American tourist guilt” then I’ve got it.

Whenever I’m in, say, Rome I’m always astounded at how unprepared many Americans are for what they’re seeing. They have little sense of history for what came before 1776 and therefore have a hard time putting things into historical context.

I’m totally generalizing here, but I think we’re a lot less educated on history, culture, arts, and geography than our European counterparts. Just ask Miss Teen South Carolina.

Our education system is an international embarrassment. I didn’t know anything about the outside world when I got out of high school. I think this is one of the reasons why in my own writing, I’m always trying to put things into a historical context, hoping that someone will read something I write and be both entertained and enlightened by it.

BNT: How do you feel about the digital age-and the plethora of online travel magazines-and its impact (or lack thereof) on the traditional print journalism?

I think the growing popularity of online travel magazines is great. They’re starting to get more and more respect.

It’s really, really hard to break in to the print travel mags, which mostly have a strong emphasis on service-oriented articles.

Most people get into travel writing for

• 1) the romantic lure of jetting off somewhere to write about it, and
• 2) to write more personal travel essay-type pieces. The online travel mags allow writers to have more of a literary bent without having to appease advertisers.

WorldHum, PerceptiveTravel, and, of course, Brave New Traveler are just a few of the many travel websites that are leading the way.

BNT: Finally (and the most important question), care to elaborate on your amazing dancing skills? Is an interpretive foreskin ballet on the horizon?

You’ll have to come out to New York and see for yourself. Tim Patterson-your Brave New Traveler colleague and a great writer and all around super guy-recently made me the poster boy for “The Walking Party” type of travel writer.

So I’ve got a lot to live up to.

For more David Farley, visit his website.

Olivia Giovetti has lived in and explored the better part of Europe on a bohemian budget. Freelance travel writing seemed like the next obvious step and her publishers include EuroCheapo, Paper Magazine, and Classic FM. A former New Yorker, she now lives in Los Angeles.

Since ditching the plane is the easiest way to reduce your carbon footprint, we caught up with Mark Smith recently in between trips to get his thoughts on slow travel, free-cycling furniture, and one infamous bottle of vodka.

BNT: What’s your primary draw towards trains and ferries as a means of travel? Is it economics or are you just aviophobic?

MS: Trains and ferries allow you to see and experience where you’re going, making the journey part of your holiday.

They treat you like a human being, with space to move around, a bed to sleep in at night, and even a restaurant for your meals in some cases.

Flying has been described as “infantalising,” having to sit down and do what you’re told. On trains and ships you’re generally treated like an adult. For example, you’re over 18, so you can bring your own bottle of wine if you like. Try doing that on a RyanAir flight!

BNT: Like the slow food movement, people have begun to talk about slow travel, something that trains and other forms of ground/sea transportation dovetail into nicely. What are your thoughts on slow travel?

MS: I’m not sure I’d call 186mph “slow.” Indeed people are often surprised that you can leave London by train at 3:00 pm and be in Barcelona at 8:30 next morning, or depart London at 2:00 pm and arrive in Venice at 9:40 the next morning.

But if I’m sometimes uncomfortable with the “slow travel” terminology, the concept behind it is sound. We’re in danger of creating a world in which every journey is an identical non-experience at 30,000 feet. Flying has lost its glamor, and I think it’s time we put the interest, excitement and romance back into travel.

What could be more romantic than reaching Spain by sleeping-car or Norway by liner?

BNT: Why Seat 61?

MS: I took to asking for seat 61 (in cars 7, 8 or 11) whenever I treated myself to Eurostar first class. I’ve left London in seat 61 bound for Morocco, Tunisia, the Crimea, and even Tokyo via Moscow and Vladivostok.

So when I started a website “The Man in Seat Sixty-One” seemed the ideal name.

BNT: Do you live green in other aspects of your life/routine?

MS: We’re just an ordinary family trying to be more considerate towards the environment.

Our 20 month old son wears real cloth nappies or biodegradable disposable ones. We’ve equipped the house with low-energy light bulbs, we recycle what we can, we “freecycle” furniture and the like if and when we replace it, and use products such as Ecover washing up liquid and washing machine detergent.

BNT: How many people have you helped find ways to travel by train and ferry? Do you have any memorable experiences from “meeting” people via your website?

MS: The site now gets around 400,000 visitors a month and the e-mails keep me busy! I love e-mails such as that from a man whose Polish wife wouldn’t fly and thought she therefore couldn’t visit her family. Thanks to seat61.com, her husband booked train tickets from London to Poland and off they went.

BNT: What first made you want to travel? Is it safe to say you’ve read a lot of Paul Theroux?

MS: I’ve read Paul Theroux, but also T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia fame), Wilfred Thesiger, Fitzroy MacLean. Each writer is very different, but all evoke an image of the countries they write about which makes me want to go there.

BNT: What’s your favorite train experience? Least favorite?

MS: I’d argue that any experience, even one that at first impression is unpleasant, is better than having no experience at all.

Indeed, sometimes unpleasant experiences give rise to our fondest memories, or best travel stories.

Such as traveling on the filthiest and most decrepit slow train from Aswan to Luxor, but meeting a series of Egyptian locals en route-from schoolchildren who asked me to read out their English schoolbooks to a young man who worked on the Nile cruise boats whose opening line was “I like Whiskey. You like whiskey?”

And my best train experience? Well, that would have to be traveling to Italy aboard the superb Venice Simplon Orient Express and accidentally getting engaged to my now wife somewhere in the Brenner Pass!

BNT: What’s the most outrageous/memorable thing you’ve seen (train and/or ferry) that you’d never see on a plane?

Customs official at the Ukraine/Polish border dismantling my sleeping-car and finding a complete off-license of illicit Vodka in the paneling three feet above my head (not mine, I hasten to add!)

Watching a younger pupil shout “Solidarity! Solidarity!” out of a train window on a school trip; not usually controversial, but the year was 1982, the train was the Moscow Express, and the station was Warsaw Centralna! I’ve never seen a Russian train conductress go so berserk…

The full list would be too long!

To read more Mark Smith, visit his website The Man in Seat 61.

Olivia Giovetti has lived in and explored the better part of Europe on a bohemian budget. Freelance travel writing seemed like the next obvious step and her publishers include EuroCheapo, Paper Magazine, and Classic FM. A former New Yorker, she now lives in Los Angeles.

What are your thoughts on train travel? Leave a comment below!

The only job better than being a travel writer, is being a travel writer on your own television show. That’s the dream attained by Julia Dimon and Robin Esrock, with the debut of their new series Word Travels: The Truth Behind the Byline.

We’d previously featured an interview with Robin where he defined his style of travel as “modern gonzo.” Julia is herself an accomplished travel writer, who has contributed to BNT in the past.

So of course, when the opportunity arose to interview them both in my hometown of Vancouver, I leapt at the chance. I ask them a variety of questions, including:

• What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?
• What’s been the most surreal experience working on Word Travels?
• What is your best piece of advice for new travelers?
• Do travelers have a responsibility to help the communities they visit?
• With all your time on the road, how do you stay excited about travel?

Enjoy the interview! And be sure to catch their show Word Travels on OLN.

Ian MacKenzie is editor of Brave New Traveler. Aside from writing, he spends his time exploring the fundamental nature of existence and wishing he did more backpacking.

I caught up with Chuck for some follow up questions that had been simmering in the back of my mind.

BNT: In your book you write that most mainstream magazines “exist for a single purpose-to move product, or, less artfully, to sell shit.” In your mind, was there ever a golden age of writing in mainstream travel magazines? If so, what changed?

CHUCK THOMPSON: I doubt there was ever a “golden age” for travel mags. What happens more often is that new magazines pop up here and there trying to establish a new template for the genre or in some way distinguish themselves from the pack, through honesty, irreverence, edgy photography, whatever.

I worked for a magazine out of L.A. for several years called Escape. Escape was sort of the Lonely Planet of magazines, at least insofar as sharing a general sensibility and favoring off-the-track destinations.

But Escape met the same fate as most non-mainstream travel pubs-it just couldn’t attract enough big ad accounts to keep it going. The magazine folded in 2000 after about seven years. A real shame, but that seems to be the way these things go. Escape is still probably the best travel magazine I ever wrote for.

What’s changed is what’s changed across our entire media.

First, the triumph of PR. Doesn’t matter if it’s covering politics, sports, music, business, travel, whatever, the mainstream media is generally (some exceptions) content to allow the agenda to be driven by organizations with a financial or political stake in the “news.”

Second is the discouraging trend over the last decade of media rolling over for high-end advertisers (and by no means is this limited to travel media), as though the entire country were Robb Report material.

Aspirational advertising has always been a part of publishing, of course, but never more so than today when people launch or redesign magazines not according to what readers want, but according to what high-end ad accounts they can attract. Believe me, that’s how it works. I’ve been in the meetings at more than one magazine and they’re all exactly the same.

Is there a way out of this scenario? Should magazines strive to find an alternative business model rather than being dependent on advertisers to finance their writers?

It’d be nice to think they could break that dependence, but I don’t see it happening. Part of it is economics-if you sacrifice ad dollars, you need to find them elsewhere-but part of it’s an institutional mindset.

For example, travel editors have to scratch, claw, and beg to get a lousy $50 added to an expense budget because a writer has to spend an unplanned night in some fleabag hotel after his flight home got cancelled. Meanwhile, a couple ad account reps blow $1,200 on a champagne lunch with clients. I use this example because it’s a scenario I was part of-I was the begging editor.

I’m not bitching, I’m just explaining the culture.

I’m also not trashing ad account reps. They have BY FAR the toughest job at any magazine. You ever try to sell media? It’s a bitch. Believe me, you don’t want that job.

Account reps aren’t overpaid. It’s just that editors and writers are grossly underpaid. If you could see what a large, successful magazine nets each month, and then look at the pittance doled out to editors and writers, you’d cry. It’s criminal.

Travel writers today generally make $1 a word (some exceptions). That’s the same rate they got paid in 1980! Babysitter’s fee have quadrupled in the same amount of time.

So, in some ways, insofar as travel writing goes, you get what you pay for. My advice if you want to make money in magazines? Go into advertising.

What do you think would happen if travel writers were free to tell the truth? That some experiences were poor, and all hotels aren’t perfect? Would the readers value the authenticity of the writing? Would advertisers freak out and pull out their dollars?

Readers would value the authenticity of the writing. Advertisers would freak out and pull out their dollars. Bye bye, magazine.

But it’s not fair to lay all the blame with the advertisers. Why should they fund a magazine that takes pot shots at them? It doesn’t make sense for, say, Four Seasons or Northwest Airlines or whoever to advertise with a publication if there’s a danger that the publication will trash one of their destinations or corporate partners.

When I was at a major U.S. airline, our inflight ran a feature package, an absolute blowjob on the wonders of a certain Caribbean country. The story included a single mention of a broken-down truck on the side of a road and a hotel with paper-thin walls.

Well, guess what? The country’s Chamber of Commerce or some well-connected business group went apeshit over this perceived insult and their indignant screams went up to the national government level and then to the airline’s executive offices.

This was a big deal, because every airline has to maintain good relationships with governments in order to negotiate for airport gate space, favorable arrival and departure times, etc. The crisis over that story was eventually soothed, but not without a lot of trouble that filtered down to the magazine and its writers.

It just doesn’t make sense for major corporations to risk offending anyone when hundreds of millions of dollars could be lost because some snarky writer getting paid a buck a word wanted to inject a little local color.

And then there’s the fact that we live in an extremely uptight, ultra-sensitive culture right now, one in which public honesty in general is stifled and any public figure or entity has to walk on eggshells around any sort of opinion.

On my website there’s a list of Ten Overrated U.S. Tourist Destinations. Mt. Rushmore and Graceland are on the list.

Most of the email I get from readers is positive, but you should see what happens when you simply mention that you’re not a fan of Rushmore or Graceland. “Terrorist! Faggot! European!” Those were the nice things I was called.

For me, it’s fine, I’m just a single writer. I don’t particularly like being insulted this way, but, you know, it’s part of the gig, I can deal with it.

Unless your name is Clinton or Limbaugh or Grisham, no one asks you to write a book, so you’re pretty much obliged to take what comes when you put yourself out there like that. But a mega-corporation with billions of dollars at stake and shareholders to please can’t afford to be so cavalier.

And that’s one of the great misunderstandings about travel. The billions at stake. You and I experience travel in the most personal possible way. But in the larger context, it’s a global industry so massive that it’s net worth can’t even be properly calculated.

Depending on the year, it’s usually the world’s largest money maker after petroleum exports. As an employer, it’s certainly the largest industry on the planet.

Judging from the fact that glitzy travel magazines are the majority, are their editors merely “giving readers what they want.” Do you think readers actually prefer fluff, or have they just been deprived of quality travel writing?

There was a review of my book on the Internet that made, to me, the astonishing and ill-considered claim that readers were as much to blame as writers for the shortcomings of the genre. I couldn’t disagree more.

When my writing or editing has failed, I’ve always assumed it was my fault for not doing a better job of reaching my audience. I don’t like blaming readers for shitty writing, but that’s a more prevalent view among writers and editors than you’d imagine.

The short answer: Readers deserve better than what we’re giving them. That’s the title of the introduction to the book, actually: “You Deserve Better.”

A travel writer friend of mine said “quality travel stories ARE getting told, we’re just not making any money in the telling.” By that, I think she meant the internet has allowed a venue for authentic, gritty travel stories – but the problem is monetizing the content to support these writers. What do you see are the challenges for getting the word out about these alternative travel websites? Are they in fact, the only hope for quality travel writing?

I’m not the person to ask. I’m online everyday and regularly hit a few websites and some of the content is indeed great, but I’m neither interested in mining for nuggets of quality amid the dreck nor monetizing the content.

The fact is, I like print. I believe its demise has been greatly exaggerated. For portability and tactile pleasure and saving my eyeballs, I prefer books, magazines, and other hard copy to reading on a monitor.

Blogs are already a large part of the legit media mix. Great. I’m all for it. But they aren’t going to replace mainstream media anytime soon, financially or otherwise.

Given the mixed reviews on the aim of your book, how would you clarify your message?

The thing most interviewers and reviewers have focused on with this book is my critique of the travel-writing racket. That’s understandable, but the book is really more of a memoir masquerading as a travel book.

My primary goal was always to make it funny, entertaining. And what entertains me is humor, opinion, insight, solid anecdotes, and maybe a few poignant moments. Everyday while writing I asked myself, “Is this funny?” And if it wasn’t, it was gone, even if I’d spent weeks or even months refining it.

I figured that given the cover of the book, the chapter titles, and the fact that there’s a bit of humor-or perhaps more accurately an attempt at humor-on virtually every page, this intent would have been pretty obvious. But some people haven’t understood the book that way, and that’s surprised me.

Now, if you don’t think it’s funny, or it sucks, I can live with that. But it’s weird to me that the attempt at levity has been lost on some people.

Then again, as I say in the second chapter, by junior high I realized I was destined to live on the moral fringes-I have yet to vote for a single candidate in any city, state, or federal election who has ever won anything-so I probably shouldn’t be so surprised.

And, anyway, there are worse things to be than not laughed at.

Read more Chuck Thompson on his website and our review of his book “Smile When You’re Lying: Confessions of a Rogue Travel Writer.”

Ian MacKenzie is editor of Brave New Traveler. Aside from writing, he spends his time exploring the fundamental nature of existence and wishing he did more backpacking.

I have just woken my driver from sleep with a desperate howl: “Move it! We’re gonna be late!” This hysteria, I think, is mostly unheard of in the temporary home of the Buddhist Tibetan government in exile…how very un-zen of me.

Caffeine crisis and tardiness aside, I am on my way to meet a most remarkable person, Ms. Rinchen Khandu Choegyal, who is rumoured to be the Dalai Llama’s sister-in-law.

I am less concerned with her family ties, however, than I am with the woman she is in her own right. As the first president of the Tibetan Women’s association, with a strong background in activism, she is a role model for people everywhere, and for the Tibetan cause generally.

I arrive at her residence, and within a few minutes, she comes out with a fiery radiance I didn’t expect. I had thought she might be bored with interview questions, or at least as sleepy as me.

After drinking a hot cup of java, I’m awake enough to I know that Ms. Choegyal is just the kind of person that the world needs more of – warm, well-spoken, strong and sincere. For this reason, I take care with her words, because she herself is so concentrated. I want as a journalist, and as someone concerned with Tibet, to get her message right.

Remembering A Home

She begins by providing a brief history of the Tibetan government, and of the difficulties that the Tibetan people continue to grapple with, while nevertheless maintaining a strong community in Dharamsala.

To her, the goal of Tibetans to return to their homeland is a primary issue- in her own words: “We will never give up, and our generations will carry it on”. She projects the determination of a warrior who requires no spears; her voice has weight, without giving away to anger and resentment, even in discussing the Chinese government.

Her views on China are ones of peace and perspective. She makes a vast distinction between regular Chinese people, and the current regime of China, which continues to oppress the idea of a free Tibet.

She defines the Chinese-Tibetan relationship as “a difficult struggle”, but adds, “We don’t want to segregate them”. She strongly promotes international friendship and understanding as a solution to the Tibetan ordeal, which, once over, will benefit all nations, including China itself.

I then ask her about India, and if she thinks it is a good place for Tibetans to live. Her reply of gratitude towards the Indian government, for providing Dharamsala and MacLeod Ganj as a refuge, for “allowing [the Tibetans] to struggle on their own”.

While she views India as a “wonderful place”, she feels it is at the same time important to recognize why Tibetans came to India in the first place. Her greatest wish is for those in exile, to return home, with the resources and freedom to carry on their traditions and beliefs.

The Human Community

At no point in the conversation, does she ever disconnect Tibetan people from the rest of the world. Perhaps this is what I admire most about her.

The goal of Tibetan people, while a fight, is in no way isolated from the rest of the human community, in all its diversity. On an earth, which sees daily outbursts of violence, and where fundamentalism of all strains has become an increasingly common and poor negotiating strategy, one can conclude that our true power comes through understanding and tolerance.

While Choegyal does not define Buddhism as the only way to nurture these qualities, she does suggest that she is “deeply impressed by Buddhism”, and that “it teaches [one] to live happily”. For the children of Tibetan culture, she locates it as “their birthright”, and hopes that they can learn about it, so that they may learn to care about other people.

She hopes that 3rd generation Tibetans growing up in India, will hold onto their roots, and continue to strive for an independent Tibet so that they may one day go back. While she has great respect for India, emphasizing its cultural, religious, and human ties to Tibet, she says, “Within this, our people have worked very hard”.

Most accurately speaking, after forty plus years in exile, this means we should probably expect more to be happening with Tibet. It’s not that the Tibetans have stopped fighting. Rather, the international community must put more pressure on China, so that they may reconsider their current stance, and return Tibet to its people.

A Time For Pressure

One wonders about the mindset of the international community, which has recently spent more time clapping its hands at the coming Olympics in Beijing, than they have holding the Chinese government responsible for assuring and maintaining human rights.

I am not suggesting that other countries do not violate human rights, or that we should isolate China, however, the voices of the Tibetan people, which speak for peace everywhere, must not only be heard, but listened to.

This requires compassionate action from all ends, and not just sympathy. In the words of the Dalai Llama himself, “To be genuine, compassion must be based on respect for the other, and on the realization that others have the right to be happy and overcome suffering, just like you”.

With this thought, as part of a global force, we might more fully accept the challenge of Tibet’s autonomy.

While many individuals, Tibetan and otherwise, are currently working for justice, the struggle is not yet finished. We must continue to pressure our leaders, for bolder negotiations regarding this issue, and for human rights far and wide.

While the dream of Tibet’s freedom has yet to be fulfilled, this does not mean it is impossible, and the onus is on us all, to make it happen.

Emily Hansen is a travel writer and teacher based in Shimla, India, where she is working on a book about her experiences as an expat. Her native land is Canada, and she has traveled to over 30 countries, and has lived in six, including Germany, China, Korea, Thailand, Taiwan, and now, India.

Perceptive Travel is one of my favorite online media outlets, consistently serving up eclectic and engaging travel stories.

You won’t find any fluff at Perceptive Travel, and Mr. Leffel aims to keep it that way.

I caught up with Tim for an interview about travel writing on the web, the difference between major publications and niche websites, and why you may want to reconsider becoming a travel writer.

BNT: Unlike most media outlets that publish travel stories, PerceptiveTravel.com is not a corporate undertaking. What do you see as the weakness of big, corporate media like Travel+Leisure and the New York Times travel section?

Tim Leffel: They have to be, in the words of some departing ForbesTraveler.com writers, “page view whores.”

In order to make their Web stories bring in the kind of eye-popping ad revenues their print publications do, they have to resort to all kinds of annoyances: pop-up ads, e-mail bombardments after you’re forced to register, banners that take up space in the middle of the article, ten page-view clicks to read one 1,500-word article, and on and on.

The text and headlines are often dumbed down to make the original print articles more search-engine friendly. The end result is that the reader seems to be treated with contempt, like a visitor number on a spreadsheet instead of a human being who is already over-saturated with intrusive advertising.

With a more modest undertaking like ours, there are no shareholders asking us to squeeze our visitors every way possible and we can be more patient in building an audience-without annoying them so much in the process.

We can also publish things on obscure destinations and angles without worrying about whether we will turn off luxury hotels and spas who (don’t) advertise with us.

We don’t have to run stories about Caribbean resorts and designer boutique hotels because of commercial considerations. We can let writers explore odd places like Tuva, Turkmenistan, or Todos Santos. We’re never predictable.

Plus we devote space to reviews of travel books and world music we find interesting, providing a much-needed outlet for overlooked genres.

BNT: I’ve found it ironic, and frustrating, that most publications that pay good money for travel writing are not interested in the sort of stories that have a chance of critical acclaim – which in travel writing basically means inclusion in the Best American Travel Writing anthology or the Best Travel Writing anthology from Travelers’ Tales. Thoughts?

Tim Leffel: That’s a quandary that will probably always be around. Like Hollywood blockbusters and reality TV, the travel publications that pay the most tend to be the ones most resembling fluff.

That’s where the big money is. They are the publications that pull in the most ad dollars from deep-pocketed advertisers and can therefore shell out more for content.

They wouldn’t print “Five hot beaches for 2008″ if it didn’t make people pick up the magazine or read the website. They are appealing to the masses in the middle or the masses that aspire to be luxury travelers.

It’s interesting to note that many stories making those Best Travel Writing collections do not come from travel magazines.

The format of something like Travel & Leisure does not lend itself to prose you want to savor. They have to be chirpy and cute. It’s like indie movies versus eye candy blockbusters, with budgets to match.

I’m looking at an issue of Travel & Leisure right now in fact and three of the four people featured on the Contributors page are photographers, not writers. A current Delta Sky article on Costa Rica has five pages of photos and one page of text. The content is often just something to wrap around a pretty picture.

Companies like Hyatt and Crystal Cruises don’t want to reach independent, free-thinking, travelers. We are too fragmented, too fickle, too unwilling to go along with what the sheep herders tell us is “the in place to go this year.”

The most successful travel magazines-and their advertisers-want to reach travelers who are easily influenced and are aspirational.

They want to appeal to people who won’t-like you and me-react with guffaws to the following text from Conde Nast Traveler:

“Call it the Bali high life; this year, visiting the island means staying at one of the new hybrid villa-hotels currently colonizing the beachfront.” (Prices quoted are $900 to $1,500 a night.)

Those magazines want readers who shop for travel the way they shop for Hermes scarves and Omega watches, as a way to show off and impress people. People who will actually read something about $1,500 suites in Luang Prabang and not think it’s a typo.

There just isn’t a big market for thoughtful, enlightening travel prose that really explores places and people in depth, especially if it encourages independent budget travel. That’s why most of that writing ends up in books rather than in magazines or newspapers.

There are exceptions–like Outside, the various mags from National Geographic, and Outpost in Canada. Thankfully the Internet allows publications like mine to reach the people who do look for more in their travel articles and gives them a place to find more perceptive writing.

The flip side of that is that the economics of a venture like this don’t allow lavish pay for anyone, including me! Not yet anyway…

BNT: With more advertising dollars moving online, do you think independent websites like PerceptiveTravel.com will be eventually be able to attract advertisers, compete with big media outlets AND maintain editorial freedom?

Or, at some point will you need to make a choice: run a “7 Best Spas” piece and add a zero to the $60 you now pay writers, or continue to publish stories Jason Wilson and readers everywhere will love while paying wages that barely cover rent…in Cambodia.

Tim Leffel: I’d rather pay a percentage of modest revenue than to resort to the reworked press releases you already see all over the travel media.

If writers want to get a $600 paycheck for that, there are plenty of places to query without us being on that list. (Hey, I work for some of them myself).

Perceptive Travel started paying $50 a feature from Day 1 when I was covering everything out of pocket and raised it to $60 earlier this year when we became profitable (barely). Ad revenues continue to inch up, though much of that advertising moving to the web is still going to the very largest sites.

I would hope by the end of ‘08 I’ll finally be able to pay writers a big “three figures” per story. Still lame, but better than some small magazines at least.

If our readership continues to build, rates will rise. Nobody is getting exploited in this relationship: I am sure I pay out a higher percentage of revenue to writers than the Hearst or Gannett publishing companies do.

I am proud though that we have been able to publish interesting work by great writers despite the low pay, partly because they appreciate a place where they can stretch and follow whatever wierd angle strikes their curiosity.

Also we prominently feature the author’s book(s) alongside the story, which can be worth a lot. I know some writers have made more on book royalties from a story in our publication than they received as article payment.

They don’t get that kind of book promotion from a typical print magazine or travel website.

BNT: Of course, one of the really exciting things about the Internet is that it’s now very feasible for writers to live in a cheap place, like Cambodia or Mexico, and work just as efficiently as the guy with an office in Manhattan.

Writers starting out overseas is nothing new – look at Hemingway in Paris – but the Internet has opened a whole new world of possibility. What are the advantages for you, as an Editor, of taking stories from writers on the move?

Tim Leffel: It doesn’t matter where a writer is based for me, though it could be advantageous if they are living in the place overseas that they are writing about to add more depth. I haven’t kept count, but I would imagine I’ve gotten material from people living in at least ten different countries.

At some point in a few years I’ll probably be putting out Perceptive Travel from another dot on the map for a while as we’re talking about taking a family sabbatical in Latin America for a year or so. As I learned living overseas in a couple of places, amazing things can happen when you cut your cost of living in half.

Someone living in another place can start a website or blog related to that region as well, finding a good niche, and make some more income from that. There are definitely a lot more opportunities now to work from somewhere else and still get paid in the home country.

BNT: So – I’ve sold my car, sharpened my pencil, packed my bag, shot my dog and am all set to break into travel writing. The night before I quit my day job I go out and celebrate.

Just before last call, I stumble up to the bar for one last round and bump into…Tim Leffel. You ask me what I’m celebrating, then throw back a shot of tequila, grab my arm, look me in the eye and say…

Tim Leffel: “Dude, what have you been smoking? Why not become a movie star or a famous singer in a rock band while you are at it?”

This job is just as competitive as those, but with less potential payoff. Almost every travel writer I know is either doing something else to make a real living or they wrote part-time for years before making the big plunge once they had enough solid recurring assignments or royalties.

It takes a lot of time to build up a solid track record and often it also takes a long time to get paid for your work.

“Break into travel writing” is a good goal, but “making a living at travel writing” is a whole other goal, one much higher and more difficult to attain-and getting harder I might add. I would suggest reading this: The 7 Myths of Being a Travel Writer.

Like any “cool job,” you have to pay your dues for a while before earning real money. It’s great fun much of the time, and an enviable position, which is why the competition is so strong and the pay so weak.

BNT: No cop-outs allowed on this question: You’ve published dozens of great stories at Perceptive Travel. Which one is your favorite and why?

Tim Leffel: I am often surprised at which stories get the most traffic and shout-outs from bloggers, so my taste certainly isn’t the most important factor.

Personally I tend to like writers with a well-honed irony meter and a good sense of humor. I loved Rolf Potts’ story from the very first issue and it went on to be selected for one of those Best American Travel Writing anthologies you mentioned, so I was not alone on that one.

Same with Wendy Knight’s story about the dangers of Colombia versus her return to New York City: that one struck me right away and it won a big writing prize from a NATJA. I really liked Shari Caudron’s story about creepy marionnettes in Prague, in the recent Sept/Oct issue.

In between, there’s a whole lot of good stuff in those archives, including some more serious pieces, so we’ll see what stands the test of time. I can’t pick just one though-sorry!

For more Tim Leffel, check out PerceptiveTravel.com and TimLeffel.com

Thinking about submitting a great travel narrative to Perceptive Travel? Hold your horses. Right now, Tim only publishes stories from authors who have already published a book. Still raring to go? Check out the submission guidelines.

BNT contributing editor Tim Patterson travels with a sleeping bag and pup tent strapped to the back of his folding bicycle. His articles and travel guides have appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, Get Lost Magazine, Tales Of Asia and Traverse Magazine. Check out his personal site Rucksack Wanderer.

Photos by Leif Petterson, Originally published at PerceptiveTravel.com. Used with permission.

Both Tim Leffel and Tim Patterson disapprove of shooting dogs. Just wanted to make that clear.

Did Tim’s answers stir any thoughts of your own? Leave a comment below!

But she will go just about anywhere else-especially if someone else is footing the bill.

Finances, however, are not a deterrent to the budget traveler with an eye for adventure and a knack for comedy-intentional or otherwise.

Ayun’s 2003 collection of essays, No Touch Monkey! illustrates some comic moments, whether it’s re-enacting Apocalypse Now in a drug-induced stupor in Vietnam, reclaiming her shoes from a gang of monkeys in India, or being at the mercy of a Madam in Amsterdam’s Red Light district.

More recently, Ayun completed a five-week trip with her husband (playwright Greg Kotis) and two children (daughter India and son Milo) through the former Yugoslavia, as detailed at http://whogoslavia.blogspot.com.

We caught up between trips to talk about travel, kids, and a certain Francis Ford Coppola movie.

BNT: Did you travel very much growing up?

AH: I vacationed in places where my parents had friends or family connections: Columbus, Cincinnati, Tucson, one of the Apostle Islands in Lake Superior. And I logged a lot of time lolling seatbelt-less against the front passenger door in my grandparent’s Buick-two full days of driving from Indiana to Florida, another two days to get back.

Now that I think about it, my paternal grandmother is the one who probably got the ball rolling. She moved from the Midwest to Arizona, and a visit to her usually included a day trip across the border into Nogales, Mexico, which I loved.

Nogales was my first taste of the colorful, the cacophonous, the non-sterile…unless, of course, one counts the midway of the Indiana State Fair. I also found it compelling that certain things could be procured more cheaply than at home.

My dad bought knock-offs of all his favorite liquors, which then broke in our luggage, ruining my dotted Swiss dress and reducing my mother to tears.

What were your influences for traveling in your adult years (and how did you afford each trip)?

The first time was because I’d been cast in a production that was going to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.

In retrospect, the production was a bit of a scam that allowed the producers to fly to Edinburgh, and live there for the entire summer, without having to spend a nickel of their own money. Pretty much everybody who auditioned was cast, and then it was up to us to ante up a flat fee to cover housing and other expenses – a detail my father finds much joy in dredging up whenever possible.

My European debut was financed by years of squirreled away birthday, Christmas and graduation money, which left just enough for a Eurorail pass, and a couple of picnics.
Every successive trip was financed by waiting tables, and not, as some Amazon customer reviewers have erroneously suggested by “Mommy and Daddy’s money.”

Lest I gain the enmity of trust fund babies everywhere, permit me to state that as a parent myself, I’d love nothing better than to lob some cash my kids’ way if it would help them to see the world. I’d much rather do that than buy them a Sony Playstation.

As far as choosing my destinations, someone would put the bug in my ear about some country I’d never really considered, and then I’d read up on it, and look at photos, and spend a lot of time thinking about how wonderful my life would be if I could only get to Rwanda/Thailand/Vietnam…

Since No Touch Monkey was published, it’s been my great good fortune to have some travel experiences underwritten by various producers who are mounting my husband’s plays.

I’ve scored free trips to San Francisco, Tokyo, and Berlin-thanks in part to Greg’s willingness to cash in one business class ticket for two in coach, and my mother’s enthusiasm for spending time around her grandchildren without me hanging around, bitching about doughnuts and TV.

Your first essay in No Touch Monkey! details traveling with your then-boyfriend on the cheap (and the breakdown that ensued). Was it that bad?

I’ve always enjoyed comic stories that really plumb the depths of self-inflicted misery, which I suppose makes me a bit of a liability to know. Poor “Nate.” That chapter covers 24 debauched, combat-filled hours of a trip that lasted six weeks.

We had our share of good moments, as he pointed out when a mutual friend tipped him off to the book’s existence, and his role in it.

You’ve slept on boats in Amsterdam and trains from Salzburg to Munich (thanks to a Eurorail pass). Where’s the oddest place you’ve slept?

In a leaf pile in a public park in Sintra, Portugal. I was awakened at dawn by the sound of a mulcher.

As a member of the fairer sex, what have been some of your biggest challenges when traveling?

Navigating the foggy area between behaving in a friendly, open manner and setting myself up for an opportunistic groping.

Keeping the squabbling and resentment to a minimum with companions of the un-fairer sex.

Bathing suit envy.

Motherhood.

Have you been able to watch Apocalypse Now since traveling in Vietnam?

Of course!

Also Hearts of Darkness, the documentary about the nightmare of filming it. Every time I hear “The End” I think of the ceiling fan in that bar, with the body of a helicopter painted behind its blades.

What was traveling with India and Milo like as opposed to traveling solo or with Greg?

Even in a spontaneous situation like our recent itinerary-free month in the former Yugoslavia, the world is somewhat less of your oyster when kids are along. They get tired, they get bored, their palates are still discouragingly narrow. They have become the primary topic of on-the-road squabbling between me and Greg.

On the plus side, I’ve found that people are particularly friendly when you have kids along: folks who otherwise might have been too shy to start a conversation will start by talking to the kids and then widen the circle to include me and Greg.

Our last night in Serbia, we were in this little bar that we’d gone to because it had a sign in the window that said “Pizza.” After some failed attempts on our part, a local man volunteered to help us explain to the barmaid that the children would balk if she topped the pie with a big puddle of ketchup, as is the local custom.

He was very shy and very sweet, and we had a lovely time for the next few hours, drinking beer and piecing together a conversation about life in Sremski Karlovci, life in New York, and the challenges of parenthood.

Having the kids along puts us on a different, more interesting plane of interaction.

Was that the first major trip with the kids?

No, we’d driven around California a few years back, and I’d taken them to Mexico, but this was the longest trip and it felt like a more full-on adventure, probably because we pulled them out of school to do it.

As seen in your recent book, Dirty Sugar Cookies, you’re also a foodie. What have been some of the more curious, Anthony Bourdain-like things you’ve eaten?

With the exception of some ant eggs and a civet stew in Northern Thailand, most of the curious Anthony Bourdain-like items have been procured in New York City.

I’m always forcing people to try the shrimp paste grilled on sugar cane at the Doyers Restaurant…and now that I’m eating meat again, there’s a whole world of tendons and offal to explore in the outer Boroughs.

Where do you draw the line between travel and tourism?

The older I get, the more I try to remember that there’s more than one way to skin a cat. A lot of factors come into play-some of us have the luxury of time, but not money. Some have money but no time.

Some have physical disabilities, or children, which are a whole physical disability unto themselves, albeit a temporary one. What it really boils down to is: Sense of Humor, Sense of Gratitude and Sense of Wonder.

Those are the qualities to strive for, whether you’re on a ten-day cruise or hitchhiking around the world.

What do you wish you knew about budget travel in the past that you know now?

That it’s a beautiful thing to blow the budget every now and then. That said, you get a lot more bang for your buck in say, Southeast Asia, than you do in Europe, where my shoestring adventures started.

What’s one place you’d go back to in a flash?

Just one place? Okay, I’ll close my eyes and spin the wheel and wind up in Varanasi, India, where I’ll rent a little room in the old town and stay for a couple of months.

Where would you go given the opportunity?

Yaddo! The MacDowell Colony!

Failing that, how about some super chi-chi eco-spa in the middle of some impossible-to-get-to rain forest, where I’d dine on organic food, sleep on 500-thread count sheets, and receive all sorts of traditional, healing massages. I assume that by “given the opportunity,” you mean someone else is footing the bill.

And where do you think you’ll never set foot?

The Moon.

For more Ayun Halliday, visit her website AyunHalliday.com

Olivia Giovetti has lived in and explored the better part of Europe on a bohemian budget. Freelance travel writing seemed like the next obvious step and her publishers include EuroCheapo, Paper Magazine, and Classic FM. A former New Yorker, she now lives in Los Angeles.

Yet today many of his books are devoured by jet-setters and backpackers alike.

Yet Dyer doesn’t label himself as a travel writer-in fact he doesn’t label himself as much of anything.

When he saw his jazz novel, But Beautiful, in the bestsellers section of a bookstore, he asked the manager if it was true: “No, of course not,’ he said. But we didn’t know where else to put it.”

He was more than happy to answer some questions for a fellow ex-expat on writing inspirations (which range from World War I to DH Lawrence), expatriatism, and the values of traveling while under the influence.

BNT: What led you to living extendedly in Paris and Rome specifically? What drew you to these cities?

GD: I went to Paris for a very specific and a very general reason.

Specifically, because I wanted to write a version of Tender is the Night which would be set in Paris. Generally, because it was everything that London was not: small, cafés that stayed open after eleven o’clock etc.

Rome was much simpler: I went on a book tour in Italy and ended up having a romance with the woman who was my interpreter. Essentially, I went to Rome to be with her.

Would you say this leads to your propensity for expatriatism? Do you consider yourself an expat (or ex-expat)?

I am a great creature of habit so being able to establish a routine is very important to me: not just with regard to work but general well-being.

I wish I WAS an ex-pat still but I’m living in London again. I’ve always liked the ex-pat scene. It’s always been a crucial component of Paris life.

You’ve lived in two cities that all but shut down during the summer; was that mere chance, or (as someone who was once labeled the “poet laureate of the slacker generation”) is there something compelling about the summer holiday?

No, it was a mistake. Exactly like Luke in Paris Trance I turned up in Paris to rent this flat not realizing how completely the city would shut down.

It was incredibly depressing and I was extremely lonely and unhappy. Rome was a bit different: for two years running I went there quite early in the year and just stayed on while it emptied out.

I enjoy London in the summer and over Christmas because the rest of the time it is so overcrowded.

Much of Yoga… is devoted to the pursuit of a peak experience or a zone. What would you say your “peak experiences” were in Paris, Rome, and London?

In Paris I always liked walking home after dinners or parties or whatever but the thing about Paris-or at least my Paris-is that it promised so much and that promise was hardly ever fulfilled; except in the fiction that grew out of my time there.

Rome: I had lots of wonderful evenings in the San Calisto or at parties with friends or just wandering round in the amazing light.

London: living in Brixton in the 80s was a sustained peak. That’s when I became myself, I think.

And then, in the late 90s, I’m really pleased that I eventually got into the whole raving/trance scene. It would have been terrible to have missed out on that.

You often mention blurring the line between fiction and nonfiction in your writing. How much of Paris Trance was taken in part from your experiences while living there?

The geography of Paris Trance is exactly the geography that I knew. Luke lives in the places I lived.

As mentioned earlier, the novel was a fulfillment of the immense promise of the city. I sort of had a Serbian girlfriend (as in the book) but she didn’t live in the city and only visited for about two weeks.

And I never had a group of friends in the city in the way that Luke does (possibly because I didn’t have a job either).

Yoga is very closely derived from real life. Little of it is made up but bits of it have been enhanced for literary effect.

For example, I wasn’t living alone as I suggest in the book). It’s about an inch from life-but all the art is in that inch.

One of my favorite parts about your work is the inclusion of details in the cities you visit-the San Calisto in Rome, the Mosque in Paris-that lend a texture to the stories they’re featured in.

Would you say that these are more important to you than the major landmarks of a city?

Oh yes, it’s all about these little details.

But in a city like Rome the major landmarks are also part of the daily texture of life. You know, you’re always passing the Coliseum, etc.

It’s one of the things that makes life there so great.

Where do you see yourself living next?

Hmm, don’t know. I wouldn’t actually want to live there-good god, no!-but half of the book I’m writing at the moment is set in Varanasi, a completely amazing city.

I also went to Hanoi recently and would love to spend longer there. I’d like to think that at some point I’ll live in California. But time is passing and it’s not happening, partly because I have a very nice life here in London.

For more Geoff Dyer, visit here.

If you take three books with you in your carry-on, make them Paris Trance, Out of Sheer Rage, and Yoga for People Who Can’t Be Bothered to Do It, three books to inspire a delayed return.

Olivia Giovetti has lived in and explored the better part of Europe on a bohemian budget. Freelance travel writing seemed like the next obvious step and her publishers include EuroCheapo, Paper Magazine, and Classic FM. A former New Yorker, she now lives in Los Angeles.

As the Frugal Traveler for the New York Times, one of the most prestigious newspapers in the world, Matt gets to travel across the country and around the globe and share his adventures with hundreds of thousands of readers.

It’s enough to make me green with envy.

A few weeks ago I got Matt’s attention by calling him my “nemesis” in an edition of Tales From the Road.

Problem is, it turns out that Matt isn’t just a great travel writer with an amazing job – he’s also a really nice guy, totally accessible, candid and down-to-earth.

In a moment of petty, jealous spite I called him “a hopelessly untalented writer of dubious integrity” – he responded by inviting me to a travel writer’s get-together in Brooklyn.

In the following interview, Matt talks about the intersection of travel writing and the Internet, the importance of humility and why he tries not to spend his days chatting with off-duty prostitutes.

It’s been a privilege to interview Matt and we both welcome your thoughts and comments.

TIM: What’s it like to be a travel writer for the New York Times? Do you modify your style when you’re writing as the Frugal Traveler, instead of for a ‘cheeky’ publication like TripmasterMonkey?

MATT: What’s it like? Well, people regularly tell me I have the best job in the world, which makes me a little uncomfortable, but I guess that’s what it is-awesome.

For the most part, I get to write about wherever I want, however I want. Which is not to say I simply do whatever I want. At the Times, there is some sense that the articles should be useful to prospective travelers, so I try as much as possible to balance that mandate with readable, enjoyable adventure.

But while I write for the Times in the persona of the Frugal Traveler, a character who’s almost exactly the same as Matt Gross, at TMM I write pretty much as myself, if a little unhinged. I can be sarcastic, obtuse, insulting, ridiculous, impractical, clever and opinionated.

It’s quite cathartic, but it’s also just a different beast from the Times. In any case, when you write for multiple publications, the challenge is always to “get” the voice of the publication while maintaining your own unique style. As you can imagine, that can be tricky.

So as a travel writer you modify your voice to match the tone of various publications. Do you find yourself doing a similar thing as you travel, adjusting your personality to fit places and cultures?

Adjust my personality? Maybe a little. I try-as I imagine most travel writers do-to imagine myself as something of a “normal tourist.”

That is, if I were paying for this vacation, what would I hope to get out of it? A good meal or two, a comfortable hotel, the “better” (i.e. less touristy) tourist sites and a few places, events or activities that are unusual but let me feel like I’m somehow getting to the heart of the destination.

For me, personally, as Matt Gross, maybe I’d do things differently on my own dime-go skateboarding, or spend the day chatting with off-duty hookers, or track down a sketchy-but-great restaurant near the warehouse district.

Or maybe I’d do the destination just as I would as the Frugal Traveler. It’s been such long time since I’ve traveled on my own that I can’t quite remember what I actually do when I’m abroad.

But again, when it comes to the writing, it’s all about balance: I want the column to be accessible, but to reflect my own occasionally quirky interests. I want it to fit into the Times, but I want to put my own stamp on it.

I want some mainstream activities in there, but I also want to discover (or at least bring to light) new options. The last thing I want is to become a self-indulgent travel writer, imagining that every little thing I do is of interest to readers. Yeesh.

Well, self-indulgence is one thing, but you’ve certainly developed a following among readers who get to know you through your columns.

How has the Internet influenced your career, and the way you interact with readers?

I owe everything to the Internet.

Obviously, there would be no way to file my stories, photos and videos without it, but it also lets me reach infinitely more people than the ordinary paper does, and lets them reach me.

The readers seem to love being able to shape my journey-God, look at all those comments!-and sometimes I wish there were deeper ways to involve them. “Instant online poll: Should Matt go north or south? Eat Chinese or Italian?”

And I guess writing for the Web creates a kind of intimacy with readers as well. I get Facebook and MySpace requests pretty regularly, and am happy (usually) to have these people as both online and real-life friends; I never say no to meeting strangers.

Still, the readers rarely hear from me directly. I may occasionally answer questions in a formal setting, or I may incorporate their suggestions into an article, but I don’t generally talk back.

For one thing, I don’t want to get involved in the arguments that inevitably arise, but I also want to maintain some distance-some air of mystery about myself.

It’s strategy: Make people wait for you, anticipate you. If you’re everywhere all at once, available on IM and Skype 24 hours a day, then maybe the readers will get bored of you.

The Internet has definitely revolutionized travel writing. Do you think online media is in the process of replacing traditional magazines and newspapers?

No.

Okay, a longer answer? The revenue generated by online media is still not great enough to fund the reporting you find in traditional print media, so until it reaches that level-or we run out of trees-there will always be magazines and newspapers.

They can all coexist, along with TV, movies, radio and whatever gets invented next year. I don’t understand the inter-media battles at all.

I ran across a great quote the other day, by a traveler named Peter Fleming who went to Xinjiang in 1935. It goes like this:

“He who starts on a ride of two or three thousand miles may experience, at the moment of departure, a variety of emotions. He may feel excited, sentimental, anxious, carefree, heroic, roistering, picaresque, introspective, or practically anything else; but above all he must and will feel a fool.”

Thoughts?

Nice quote, but it’s a shame he limits it to “the moment of departure.” Me, I felt like a fool-an excited, sentimental, anxious, carefree, heroic, roistering, introspective fool-every moment of every day of the trip.

I think it may have been Socrates who said, “I know nothing but the fact of my own ignorance,” and that’s as good a philosophy for a travel writer as any.

For more Matt Gross, visit his feature Frugal Traveler: American Road Trip. He also edits for TripMasterMonkey

Tim Patterson travels with a sleeping bag and pup tent strapped to the back of his folding bicycle. His articles and travel guides have appeared in Get Lost Magazine, Tales Of Asia, Matador Travel and Common Language Project. Check out his personal site Rucksack Wanderer.

While volunteering overseas is not new, the “behind the scenes” reality has rarely been conveyed effectively to the masses.

Daniela Kon aims to change that. She’s an independent documentary filmmaker currently in post-production of her debut documentary ‘Changing the World on Vacation – NGO Volunteers and the Politics of Compassion.’

The film is inspired by her own experiences volunteering with NGO’s in Thailand, India, and Cambodia in 2005/2006 and grew into an investigation into the moral complexity of development work and the personal and political boundaries of sustainability.

Now the film needs your help. Daniela is looking to raise funds to aid in post-production expenses to complete the film and deliver it to the world.

To help spread the word, I conducted an interview with Daniela about the project and volunteering overseas. Enjoy!

BNT: How did you get into film?

Daniela: I won a Television in a lottery when I was 6 years old and pretty much started to indulge in film junkie tendencies from then on. Watching films has always been my favourite hobby and I eventually developed a critical eye, a critical taste and a passion to express myself with that medium.

I worked for production companies, learned from other filmmakers, producers and editors, experimented with cameras, and also chose my educational path in that direction.

First theoretically, with a degree in media and cultural studies, which fueled a journalistic curiosity and sense of social responsibility – then traditionally, with a 16mm filmmaking course that boosted my passion for the craft and its creative potential and eventually, – practically with a masters in documentary production.

By then I had grown un-satisfied with a lot of fiction and appreciated the political significance, the complexity and the element of chance in documentary that can be imperatively meaningful, liberating, thought provoking and inspiring.

I found my genre and hope I can continue to devote myself to its challenging potential.

How does the medium of film differ from say, writing an essay on this topic?

There is something about the aesthetic experience of film and its multi-dimensional quality that certainly sets it apart.

Film is also much better qualified to translate the intensely visual experience of travel that produces vital visual memories. The popularity and accessibility of film, makes it politically the more powerful medium and the right one given the political gravity of global aid practices.

I actually started this project as a Phd thesis and soon debated your exact question, choosing to ‘take action’ in favour of theorizing.

What other documentaries do you take as inspiration for your film?

Philibert’s documentaries are a great inspiration. Definitely German and French cinema of the 60’s and 70’s – filmmakers like Goddard, Trouffaut, Fassbinder, Schlöndorff, Herzog and experimental approaches to filmmaking – Greenway, Bunuel, Transgression and DADA.

What are the challenges of filming a documentary abroad in a developing country?

The obvious challenges, such as language barriers and unfamiliarity turned out to be a benefit in the process.

Having to always interact and rely on locals or insiders helped to create valuable relationships that allowed me to try and learn as much as possible. Their support made every possible challenge an exciting adventure.

Finding electricity to charge batteries or getting tape-stock was much easier then avoiding travel sickness. A girl with a camera is also not as visible as a huge film crew and I got away with shooting pretty much everywhere.

On your website you say the film is meant to show the “everyday struggle” of volunteers abroad. Why do you think it is important to show this side?

It is absolutely crucial to acknowledge the symbiosis of giving and receiving in aid work.

The contradictory effects that the volunteers and staff members feel for themselves as a result of their involvement; their dilemmas and struggles are key to understanding the process and effects of development work.

Their motives and the way they overcome their personal challenges determine what is being changed, who is being helped, and how.

Civic institutions need to be understood as processes that are shaped by the practices and agendas of their participants.

What plans do you have for the documentary once it’s complete?

I plan to start with the festival route and hope to secure international TV and DVD releases.

I will make every effort to allow the film to be a catalyst for discussion with screenings at schools and universities, educational and community forums, and non-and governmental agencies.

I hope will allow citizens and policymakers to rethink their social responsibility, their realistic potential to ‘make a difference’ and help re-formulate more effective strategies for sustainable development in humanitarian aid and Volun-tourism projects.

YOUR SUPPORT IS NEEDED: Please visit the film’s website at www.deedaproductions.com to watch a 16- min selects reel, learn more about the documentary and support its completion.

Ian MacKenzie is editor of Brave New Traveler, and co-founder of the blogging community TravelBlogger. Recently, he also began offering website marketing consulting services specifically for travel websites and service providers. Visit his other project One Week Job.

Many of you know Matt Harding from his ludicrous trips around the world, dancing his ‘prosector dun struck gold’ dance.

He’s appeared in major media all across the US, and featured as one of the top internet stars.

I figured Matt was pretty darn sick of talking/doing his dance, so when I contacted him for an interview, I promised I wouldn’t ask about the shtick that made him famous.

The result is a thought-provoking interview from a guy who’s been around the world three times over. Enjoy!

BNT: What would you say is the main difference between people in “rich” countries over developing countries?

I think the boundaries are different. In Hanoi, people spend a lot of their time out on the sidewalk amidst all the noises of the city. They set up chairs and they sit around eating and talking while their kids play on the street. In La Paz or Nairobi it’s very much the same.

People can’t afford to insulate themselves with walls and fences, so they function without a lot of personal space. I think it helps to create stronger communities and provides a web of security, because everyone can see what everyone else is up to. But of course, there are also downsides.

Coming from a relatively cloistered culture, it’s refreshing to see the vitality of a city where everyone is out and things are buzzing.

As a traveler, what’s the worst experience you’ve had in a developing country?

I think the only times I’ve been afraid for my life were when I’d done something very stupid. I can’t think of ever having been thrust into a situation like that where it was completely beyond my control.

And the few times I have been afraid for my life certainly weren’t my worst experiences. I actually remember them as being some of the best; like hiking alongside fresh leopard tracks on a volcano rim in Kenya, or winding up alone in a Mexican whore house at 4am with a strange man lurking outside my door. Terrifying at the time of course, but fondly remembered.

The worst experience would have more to do with hassles; like getting stuck in Bangkok for 8 days while waiting for the Indian consulate to process my visa application. Or maybe the 16 hour bus ride across the Serengeti where I had to pay the lady next to me $5 so I could stick my head out of the window and escape the body odor.

What was the most rewarding experience?

That would have to be shooting the dancing clip with the kids in Rwanda. I can’t say I formed a deep emotional bond with the kids or anything – I was only in the village for a matter of minutes – but that clip and the experience of making it has been rewarding in a lot of ways.

The way the kids just instantly got what I was doing and joined in without hesitation – it goes back to that thing about boundaries. And I think the clip captures some trace of the sublime joy they were emanating.

It’s really the heart of the video, and it’d led the way for me into this new project, which is getting people to come out and dance with me in every place I go.

What’s the worst attitudes a tourist can have while traveling through developing countries?

I think the real cardinal sin is expecting a place to bend to your wants and needs. The impulse to turn every spot on earth into a variation of what you have at home. It’s like in camping stores, how they sell ice cream makers and freeze-dried beef stroganoff. You’re in the woods, folks! Eat some rice and beans and go to bed!

I’m not saying we should all sleep on thatch floor mats and wear sarongs, but there needs to be a degree of respectful immersion.

Of course, this assertion makes a hypocrite out of me in many ways. I’m the guy who always orders the cheese and tomato sandwich when the menu looks too dodgy. I’ll also pay extra for comfort on trains and buses, because I can afford to and I’ll sleep better and it makes everything go more smoothly. Like I said, it’s a matter of degrees.

What are the most desirable qualities to have as a tourist in developing countries?

Curiosity.

Don’t try to blend in, ’cause you’re never going to blend in. Be yourself, but also try to be inquisitive and engaged by what’s around you. Learn as much as you can and bring that back with you.

But then once you’re home, don’t go on and on about it forever, cause you’ll drive everyone around you crazy. You’re allowed one day of rambling about your trip for every week you spent traveling. After that, you have to shut up about it.

For more Matt Harding, visit Where The Hell Is Matt?

Ian MacKenzie is editor of Brave New Traveler, and co-founder of the blogging community TravelBlogger. Aside from writing, he spends his time exploring the fundamental nature of existence and wishing he did more backpacking.

When my boss wasn’t looking over my shoulder, I searched for travel stories online. I still remember the first time I found travel writer Rolf Pott’s website and weblog.

It felt like the world was suddenly more open and accessible. Here was someone who wrote for me!

Rolfpotts.com is a treasure trove of entertaining and perceptive travel stories. Rolf travels slowly around the world, jotting down notes, shifting context and writing about the exhilarating joy of new experience.

Rolf hit the big-time in 2003 when his book Vagabonding was published by Random House. Vagabonding is a practical and inspirational guide to long-term travel that has spurred thousands of people to broaden their horizons, make room for travel in their lives, and set off to experience the world.

Rolf frequently publishes feature articles in major print magazines like Outside and National Geographic Traveler and popular travel sites such as Yahoo News and Worldhum.com, where he recently chronicled the death of the mile-high club.

In the following interview, Rolf shares his thoughts on travel writing for the Internet, the intoxicating “hum of possibility” that travel generates and why “speeding off toward the horizon with a sack full of Benzedrine is not always the best way to approach a journey.”

TIM:

Where in the world are you now? Do you have any exciting projects on the horizon?

ROLF:

I am in Paris at the moment, where I teach a creative writing workshop each July at the American Academy. I rent an apartment at the edge of the 5th Arrondissement, not far from the Jardin de Plantes and the Paris Mosque.

This is the third consecutive year I’ve done this. One twist this summer is that I am hosting my parents here for two weeks. It will be their first time in Europe.

After Paris, I’ll head back to the States, visiting friends and working on stories in New York, California, Oregon, Louisiana, and Kansas. Then late this fall I will head to Brazil and Argentina in the hopes of studying samba and tango.

TIM:

USA Today once called you “Jack Kerouac for the Internet Age.” How does your approach to travel writing match with the lifestyle Kerouac glorified fifty years ago in ‘On the Road’ and ‘Dharma Bums’? And what does it mean to be a writer for the Internet Age?

ROLF:

I think the comparison to Kerouac was more metaphorical than practical or literal. Kerouac introduced a generation of Americans to the joys of open-ended travel, and I’m trying to do the same.

Past that, it’s difficult to make applied comparisons, because travel – and society in general – has changed a lot in 50 years. Biographically and philosophically I don’t always follow in Kerouac’s footsteps, but I share his belief that travel anywhere carries this amazing, potentially life-changing hum of possibility: that there is so much to be gained by just mustering up the courage and hitting the road.

As for writing in the Internet Age, this might be a tough thing to analyze, since I got my start in the Internet Age, and I owe the genesis of my writing career to the Internet.

Hence I don’t really know what it was like to be a pre-Internet Age writer. Granted, I also write a lot these days for traditional newsstand and bookstore media, but the Internet is still my core outlet.

This allows for immediacy of reportage – some of the stories I’ve written for Salon and Slate went live just hours after I lived them. Plus, through my website, each story becomes part of a greater narrative of my accumulated wanderings.

Twenty years ago, an interesting magazine article about someone’s journey might have been read, enjoyed and quickly forgotten; now, someone who reads my stories online in Slate or Outside or World Hum can link to my website and read 70-80 more stories from other parts of the planet.

This inadvertently adds to the Kerouac mystique: instead of seeing me as a journalist writing a one-off story from some part of the world, my readers can easily discern that I’ve made an entire lifestyle out of travel.

TIM:

The USA Today blurb tying you to Kerouac always struck me as misleading, since you come off as a clean-cut, hard-working, intelligent guy whose message is that extended travel isn’t such a radical lifestyle choice after all, whereas Kerouac played up the shenanigans, and his drug-fueled image did nothing to raise the profile of vagabonds in mainstream culture.

ROLF:

You’re right, but it can be kind of tricky to criticize Kerouac, since over the years he has come to symbolize something that is different from whom he was as a person.

In a way, Jack Kerouac is a lot like Che Guevara: a handsome, passionate, contradictory man who is wildly romanticized for reasons that have more to do with image than reality. Like Che, Kerouac was a man who found his first success at the exact right time in history, and then wound up skewed by that success, which was something he could never quite replicate again.

And just like Che is adored more for the vague, reactive notion of “revolution” than a verifiable track record for improving the lives of poor people, Kerouac is lionized out of a hazy association with spontaneity and personal freedom – when in fact he was a rather melancholy and self-absorbed soul, even in the pages of his own books.

So while being compared to an icon like Kerouac is certainly flattering at an image level, my approach to travel is a lot quieter and more deliberate than his was.

I have nothing against spontaneity, but I think one has to take one’s long-term self-interests into account, and speeding off toward the horizon with a sack full of Benzedrine is not always the best way to approach a journey.

The counter-cultural act of creating time for travel in an overworked society is a joy not because it’s a radical or symbolic, but because it’s a sane and enriching lifestyle choice.

TIM:

I want to explore the idea of ‘possibility.’ In a previous interview you said, “travel carries this amazing, potentially life-changing hum of possibility. I’m sort of addicted to this idea of possibility.” What do you mean by the “hum of possibility?” Can you describe how it feels?

ROLF:

The “hum of possibility” is the feeling that anything can happen at any moment — a heady openness to the new and unexpected. It’s hard to experience this feeling at home, since home life is made more efficient and manageable by certain self-insulating patterns and routines.

That’s why at home we fall into these little rituals of low-stakes possibility, like going to bars to meet people, or dabbling in new fads or hobbies. That’s all great; I’m not knocking the patterns of home-life. But on the road the potential for new experience is so much more powerful and real.

You can challenge yourself: reeducate yourself, reconsider yourself, reinvent yourself if you want to. Embracing this sense of challenge and newness — which may be nothing more complicated than wandering off the obvious tourist trail — can send your worldview and even your outlook on life into new directions.

It’s a somewhat intimidating, yet invariably intoxicating feeling that follows you as you travel.

TIM:

I hear you’re working on a new book-length travel narrative. Can you tell me about this project? When will we see it on shelves?

ROLF:

I probably won’t say much about the book project right now, because the book seems to veer into a new thematic direction every time I try and explain it. I will say that it’s a travel narrative, set in Latin America over the course of several seasons. Given the lead-time on books, it will probably be 2-3 years before you see it on shelves.

For more Rolf Potts: www.rolfpotts.com

This is the second interview in a series exploring travel writing in the 21st century. Read the previous interview with MatadorTravel.com Editor David Miller.

Tim Patterson travels with a sleeping bag and pup tent strapped to the back of his folding bicycle. His articles and travel guides have appeared in Get Lost Magazine, Tales Of Asia, Matador Travel and Common Language Project. Check out his personal site Rucksack Wanderer.

I crossed paths with David Miller on Independence Day in sunny Boulder, Colorado. He pulled up in a van with a beat-up orange rodeo kayak in the back and greeted me with a fist-bump, smiling wide through his trimmed dark beard.

We found a coffee shop on Pearl Street, ordered ice teas and spent two hours talking about surf-camping in Baja, backcountry hikes in the Rockies, the qualities of literary travel writing and David’s new job as Editor of MatadorTravel.com.

David brought along a map of the mountain range beyond Boulder, which he spread out on the terrace of the coffee-shop.

“I always try to get a feel for a new place by following the water,” he said, tracing a finger up Boulder canyon and into the high peaks.

“This snow-field, up at the top, is the southern-most glacier in North America. Make that your destination. It’s where the water’s born.”

On the connection between carpentry and writing:

“There’s something about hand-work as a means of concentration that makes it very curative for me. Like most writers, I have the tendency to over-analyze; working with my hands allows space to reflect and focus.

Sometimes, when I arrive on a job-site in winter after a snow storm, the first thing I’ve got to do is just shovel snow and clear everything away before I can start work. I try to approach the work of writing in the same way, clearing my mind before setting down words.”

On corporate culture and ‘android behavior’:

“My attitude towards ties and suits is born out of a total lack of trust of anything that’s not based on a personal, eye-to-eye relationship. Human relations based on title, or appearance, or what’s printed on a little plastic insurance card have always bothered me.

People are good at little mechanical tasks like flipping remote controls to start their cars, but that strikes me as sort of android behavior. Especially in contrast to people like these Brazilian fishermen, who carve beautiful canoes, the same way their great-grandfathers did, who work in the bays with a style that’s just fucking timeless and beautiful.

Whereas the life of a guy doing stock trades based on bits of numerical data seems tragic-comic to me.”

On MatadorTravel.com:

“I’ve learned to look at computers as just another tool. Matador can serve on so many levels. There’s a lot on the site to help travelers find places that fit their comfort level and link up with like-minded people.

The article section has great potential to showcase events and places that might not get as much attention in the mainstream media. An article we just published about the G8 summit in Germany is one example.

Hopefully Matador inspires people to go out and take some risks, meet the locals and travel with a heightened sense of awareness. The site serves as a nexus, a virtual map that goes beyond the traditional idea of magazines and guidebooks to create a sort of hyper-map – a super detailed way of accessing information.

I think we’re at the very tail-end of traditional forms of media and the new forms present a different way of seeing things.”

On quality travel writing:

“As an editor I look for stories with a literary quality – narratives that explore a universal theme with which the reader can identify.

What makes a good submission? Just tell me the story. Be willing to dig deep and take risks. Try to find the connections, tell me how the things you experienced fit in the local landscape and community.

The real story isn’t this crazy Elvis shrine somewhere, or that someone is wandering around the world with a backpack – what’s the sub-context? What’s the story of the traveler’s past and the community past? Literary travel writing needs to be rooted in a deeper context.

To be honest, I can almost always tell from the first sentence of a query what sort of article is coming. Even the first few words give me a good idea of the honesty, self-confidence and professionalism of the writer.

There’s your standard, journalistic style – setting down facts and playing it safe – and that’s fine; good solid travel information is a big part of what we look for at Matador.

But I’m always on the lookout for people willing to take chances, writers who might be unsure of themselves, but are up front about that uncertainty. What needs to come through is real honesty about their emotions and perceptions.”

On writers to emulate:

“Read Raymond Carver. He’s one of best at capturing a particular emotion and saying the most in the fewest words.

Jim Harrison is a master of perspective. He’ll focus on the minute – bring it to the middle distance – and then go all the way out to the universal. He covers the whole spectrum of perspective, which helps deepen and expand the narrative.

A lot of beginning writers stick with one middle focus throughout the story. You’ve got to stretch back into the past and extend out to the future. It’s always more edifying to read something that goes in multiple directions.

For quality description an author who comes to mind is Kent Haruf, who wrote a book called Plainsong.

Annie Proulx is a Wyoming writer who is great at using vignettes to bolster the narrative drive, writing simple crisp anecdotes that give the reader an appreciation for the character’s position and foster that all-important sense of empathy.

Gay Talese is a really important influence on my own writing, especially as a magazine writer. He’s the absolute master of the portrait. I should also mention Wendell Berry as a writer who, like Jim Harrison, excels in all forms of writing: fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.”

At this point in the interview David excuses himself to answer his mobile phone and has a short conversation in Spanish…

“My wife, Laura. She just woke up. I can’t give her a hard time about sleeping late – she’s seven months pregnant.

When we first met I was living as a Pitayero on the beach in Los Cerritos, Baja, Mexico, down there just surfing, fishing, hanging out with local kids.

I met this woman from Buenos Aires – Laura – who would eventually become my wife. Anyway, I invited her down to my little bachelor camp and we started traveling together.

Thinking back on it, the root of our marriage was the desire to make a life out of just what we had – which was very little…traveling together, finding our way.

In the end, it’s not about a surf-break or a beach or whatever – it’s about people and context, exploring a culture and experiencing a place.”

More David Miller:

• Why every writer should study Sherman Alexie
• David’s Matador Profile

Tim Patterson travels with a sleeping bag and pup tent strapped to the back of his folding bicycle. His articles and travel guides have appeared in Get Lost Magazine, Tales Of Asia, Matador Travel and Common Language Project. Check out his personal site Rucksack Wanderer.

When my best friend came to me with an idea last February, I listened. He was just out of college, and didn’t quite know what to do with his life. He was talented, creative, intelligent – any employer would have snapped him up quick.

But instead he decided to start One Week Job.

So he and I built the initial website, cobbled together a press release, and let the universe take over. Pretty wild, considering how far it’s come.

I recently came across this interview with Kevin Sites, conducted for YouTube’s new political vlog Citizen Tube. Who’s Kevin you ask?

“As one of the world’s most respected war correspondents, Kevin Sites has spent the past five years covering global war and disaster for several national networks. Sites helped pioneer solo journalism, working completely alone, traveling, and reporting without a crew.” — from In The Hot Zone

He’s got some interesting words about his own experiences in the world’s war zones, as well as the hope for citizen journalists to change the world.

Recently, Mike decided he would experience cultural relations from the perspective of the Model UN, held every year in New York City. I caught up with Mike to ask him about his trip and his newfound insights into the challenges of navigating nations.

Why did you participate in the model UN?

I’m soon to be finished my Bachelor’s degree in Political Science at the University of Victoria. International relations has been a significant area of study in my undergrad education, so to actually put my knowledge into practice at the Model United Nations Conference in New York seemed like a great opportunity.

I have known about the UN Club at UVic for a few years now, but I hadn’t joined in previous years because I thought it would be too time consuming with all the planning, fundraising, and studying that is required leading up to the conference.

I went for it this year because I realized it would be my last chance to do it before I graduated and the experience would significantly open my eyes wider than what I was learning in the classroom.

What interests you most about international diplomacy?

The notion of peace. International diplomacy is there to provide a safe world and to prevent violence and injustice. With 193 sovereign states on the planet, international diplomacy is absolutely crucial to global stability and maximization of peace.

What are some challenges you found when participating in the model UN?

The international system is extremely complex. Each country in the UN tries to push their own agenda, while simultaneously fulfilling their commitment to peace and cooperation. What is difficult about international diplomacy is getting all the dynamics to align.

UVic was representing the Republic of Korea (South Korea) at NMUN this year and my particular role was a delegation to the UN in the Conference on Disarmament.

To give you an example of the challenges I faced in my conference, I was trying to persuade the United States of America to work multilaterally and cooperatively, rather than aggressively sanctioning nuclear capable countries like North Korea.

Inside the conference room there were other difficulties, like students who were taking the simulation a little bit too seriously, causing emotional tension at times. Particularly the delegates representing both Israel and Syria were at each other’s throats, which made it difficult to get through the voting process and pass our resolutions.

If countries are not getting along, it can be devastating to the development of resolutions.

Any amazing moments you had down in New York that altered your perspective or expanded your mind?

I felt the most inspired during the opening and closing ceremonies of the conference, which took place inside the UN headquarters.

Some of the speakers were high profile individuals from the UN talking to us students about our future and our responsibility to play a role as individuals toward a more peaceful world.

I was sitting in the same room where major decisions get made that have enormous impacts on our world. For the first time I could see that I had the opportunity and capability to contribute to a better world.

What are 3 life lessons you took away from the entire event?

1. Opportunities are out there for anyone wanting to contribute something positive to the world.
2. The world is complex, as is life, and will always require proper management.
3. Every person has the power to make a difference.

Also check out: Mike’s photos from the Model UN and a clip of Jon Stewart mentioning the students in the audience during The Daily Show.

Ever participated in a model UN? What do you think of the larger role of the UN?

Recently on a local talk-show, I caught an interview with Robin Esrock, the founder of “modern gonzo” — a style of travel modeled after the journalism of Hunter S. Thompson.

In his own words, modern gonzo was inspired by “a desire for enlightenment, a need to escape encroaching adulthood, and the schmuck who drove his car into my scooter, breaking my knee cap, and in doing so, teaching me the true meaning of pain, and also, settlement.”

Makes me wish I could get hit by a vehicle, and spend the next few years gallivanting around the world…almost.

For more information on modern gonzo, and a slew of envy inducing articles, videos, and photos, check out his website.

Does ‘modern gonzo’ travel sound appealing to you?

We discuss my thoughts on blogging, favourite places, and the future of Brave New Traveler. An excerpt:

What do you like most about traveling?

“I love the freedom of knowing you’re always on the move, constantly experiencing new places and meeting new people.

Also, as any backpacker knows, there’s an odd sort of instant companionship that permeates the nomad culture; anyone you meet, whether in a hostel, backcountry trek, or camel ride, is instantly your friend. I rarely feel such openness when I’m at home.”

Read the tell-all expose here

On my own visit to the Toul Sleng prison (now genocide museum) I remember a visitor had scrawled upon the wall “There is no place in art for sunsets and flowers while this goes on. Art must scream for those who cannot.”

I immediately thought of that quote when viewing Lee Lee’s stunning online gallery of oil paintings, and caught up with the artist for an interview.

Brave New Traveler – How would you characterize your style of painting?

Lee Lee: My style shifts to maintain sensitivity to the topics I address. I try not to impose myself but reflect different aspects of this world. In general, I am a figurative oil painter, but also experiment with process and material. Source material gathered abroad tends to reflect the quieter elements of life; moments of contemplation, or rituals practiced with regularity.

What do you try and convey in your work?

My work breaks through the veneer of “exotic” appearances to portray the range of gestures and expressions that all of us hold. Even when a situation seems very foreign, we share common elements that allow people to understand each other when given the opportunity.

It took some time and much travel to recognize beauty in some of the most devastating environments. I manifest difficult situations through process; using a shotgun or blowtorch to violently alter grounds, or letting the work emerge through repetitious drawing and erasure.

The imagery, however, focuses on the resilience of those who persevere despite imposing hardships. Through these oppositions I strive to convey balance.

Your work deals with such issues as AIDS in Africa, genocide in Cambodia, and global warming. Has your work always tended this way?

I started traveling and painting at the same time, so my work has always paralleled my experiences. Art has to be truthful to the seeds planted within the creator.

While I’m aligned with organizations that do constructive work in places that have inspired me, I don’t consider my work “political” because it doesn’t push people to behave a certain way or adopt any belief system.

Instead I see it as reflective. Struggles with war, disease and environment have been present throughout human history and will continue; this timelessness often enters my work. The best we can do is have compassion in our lifetime.

How do you see painters and other artists fitting into the scheme of tackling these issues?

I just curated an exhibit at the Mizel Museum in Denver in regards to genocide. The most rewarding response came from a survivor from the DR Congo who told me that when our culture talks about genocide, it extends the dehumanization he felt as a target.

He felt this body of work conveyed a very human element – these are real people who are essentially very similar to us. The 10 artists involved have created provocative work from their direct experiences in the areas they’ve portrayed; from Darfur to Guatemala and even our own lands.

They focus on the strength of survivors as well as the process of mourning, remembrance and rebuilding their lives in the years after. These themes touch on a sort of quiet in-between space, exploring aspects of genocide that academics rarely acknowledge.

Such a severe subject is all too easy to sensationalize, and I thought it important to explore the subtle nuances in order to build connections to those affected.

What do you hope to provoke with your own work on these issues?

We live in fairly opaque bubbles here in the States. I feel it is vital to communicate what exists outside our borders, often internal borders, in a way that promotes understanding between people and appreciation for our environment.

I strive to let my work cultivate emotional responses to situations that in reality could affect (or be instigated by) any of us. I hope to add perspective to people’s worldview, so they can consider how we are intertwined with those in other places, since the world is only getting smaller.

I like to pay attention to communities often overlooked in the emergence of globalization. These people have expressed appreciation for simply bearing witness.

Any future projects are you working on?

My direction now is exploring how one subject is manifested in various cultures. Weilworks Gallery in Denver is hosting an exhibit in June of work I’m developing in regards to contemporary practices of weaving.

From China, a super industrial mill is being painted in cold colors and repetitive forms that obscure the faces of the women working it. From South Carolina, the burnt out cotton mill my great grandmother worked in sits abandoned for cheap labor in places like China.

The third series depicts a traditional Intha family weaving on hand hewn looms in Myanmar. The figures are buried in the architecture of the looms to reflect how they are cut off from the rest of the world. Still, their faces are warm and the tangle of organic surfaces inviting.

What do you think of Lee Lee’s paintings? What are some other artists tackling these subjects?

Chances are, you’ve seen Matt and his “Dancing” video already. Along with just about everyone else on the internet, I’ve previously mentioned him here under a post about inspirational travel sites that will make you pity your day job.

So what’s Matt been doing since then? Dispensing his sage wisdom.

Earlier this month, he was named one of the 40 Greatest Internet Superstars in a Vh1 television special. And Payscale.com has posted a pretty thorough interview with Matt about his fame, lessons learned, and most memorable moments from the road.

Here’s a choice exerpt:

What did Matt learn from his travels?

Sometimes other people limit our options for us, sometimes we limit our options and we create the boundaries for our existence and say, “I can only do this, this is the job I’m cut out for, this is what I can do.”

I think it’s really important when you realize that you’re the one creating those boundaries and you have control over them, there’s no lock on the cage, and you can open up the door, go outside and do whatever you want.

Watch the film above and read the full transcript.

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