Traveling the world one color at a time.
I was recently tagged by Nellie Huang over at Wild Junket to share my three best travel secrets. This exercise was initiated by Katie at TripBase, and the goal is to unite travel bloggers from across the globe while creating a massive list of awesome insider tips from those who have been there and made the mistakes.
I’m breaking the rules by not just writing about destinations, but that’s the kind of traveler I can be too …
Enjoy!
I became a frequent flyer (though not a cardholder) before the age of three. I ticked off states and national parks on summer road trips with my family that zig-zagged across the United States. Except for a few forays across the U.S.-Canada border growing up, I didn’t travel to my first foreign country—England—until I was a sophomore in high school.
Since then, I’ve had the opportunity to visit a handful of countries on six continents. I’ve met locals who have helped me navigate tricky customs and cultures. I’ve chatted with travel enthusiasts personally and virtually who have inspired me to think about why and how I travel. Needless to say, travel is a large part of my life, and it’s definitely taught me a few things along the way. Here, in honor of Thanksgiving, are a few of the things travel has made me most thankful for:
Who says you have to have snow to welcome in the holiday spirit? If the crowds at Ethel’s Annual Chocolate Wonderland are any indication, us desert folk know how to ring in the most wonderful time of the year … even if we can do it in capris and light sweatshirts!
Ethel’s Chocolate, located in Henderson on the outskirts of Las Vegas, has both a fully functioning chocolate factory and a four-acre botanical cactus garden. I promise to share all the details of Ethel’s Chocolate Factory in a future post of I Love Las Vegas, but for now I’m smitten with the half a million lights illuminating the desert foliage in the garden.
I’m a mutt among my peers—a touch of German, a little Scottish, some Native American—but my heritage is basically irrelevant when I mingle with a mix of people from other backgrounds. But in many parts of the world, ethnic and tribal lines are still being drawn, and they’re taking entire countries down as a result.
Michela Wrong’s book, It’s Our Turn to Eat: The Story of a Kenyan Whistle-Blower, is as much about tribalism as it is on calling out the corrupt. In fact, it’s due to the deep-seeded tribal feuds that corruption in the Kenyan government even exists. Kenya has always been the home of many tribes, but it wasn’t until the time of British colonialism and the decision to partition the land up into 24 native reserves—each named for the tribe that was placed there—that tribal lines were literally drawn. Once placed in competition with each other, Kenyans viewed their land as mini-nations and the British reinforced these communities by turning “negotiable ethnicity into competitive tribalism.”
I step through the stone archway into the courtyard. It is open and empty with a ring of buildings outlining the grass-covered area. A sweep of bright flowers sway lightly in the breeze. Only a few other people walk the perimeter of the grounds, ducking in and out of the buildings that used to serve as homes, storage spaces and school rooms.
Mission Espada, the first of four quiet missions that line strategically up the San Antonio River, is vacant, a shell of something that once was. It feels eerie, decaying and mysterious. A dry well in front of the small church has been covered for safety reasons. Roofs are missing off of many of the buildings. A stray cat wanders around the grounds. At Mission San Juan, a cluster of overgrown cacti have grown up around a large rusted cross.
The missions are barely breathing with activity, though we are told there are still church services on Sunday. Inside, these churches smell just a bit musty and you can see the dust in the air where the light shines in through the foggy windows. The traditional boldly colored Southwestern stripes on the cloth covering the kneelers is worn. The paint is peeling and candle lights have been replaced with electrical stand-ins, but these are still places of worship. The groundskeepers have done an amazing job at keeping the land alive in the face of a seemingly lifeless existence.
Of all the places in the world that I’ve traveled, Burning Man seems to intrigue people the most. Perhaps it’s the elusive nature of the festival or the inability to define something so life-altering and profound to someone who has never experienced it. Or maybe it is the contradictory fact that Burning Man is so harsh and raw and unforgiving yet so real and generous that piques people’s interest.
It’s been more than two months since I stepped off the dusty playa and back into the default world. For me, however, the default world has changed as a result of Burning Man. I’ve made drastic changes in my life and am living my dream. I am defining the default world.
I loved the bulgogi—marinated beef on a stick—that we bought on the street in South Korea, but I could definitely pass on another serving of ugali in Kenya. I ate both of these, however, and will continue to sample new foods as I travel the world.
Food is an essential part of international travel, and anyone who passes from one country to another but only eats at the recognizable worldwide joints is definitely missing out on an important cultural experience (though this is not to say that a meal at the local McDonald’s isn’t worth a stop).
It is over a meal that we can truly get to know the people who live in a country. Only by eating at a local hole-in-the-wall a couple blocks off of the main drag do we experience authentic flavors that are masked in the touristy areas of a city. Friendships and business relationships are created over communal meals. Recipes—passed down through generations—ensure the continuation of a culture in the face of all things mainstream.
Fall may be upon us, but it’s never too late to remember the carefree days of spring and summer. I love how The Palazzo in Las Vegas dresses up for the seasons. Fight the biting cold of winter and sit back for a moment to enjoy a rainbow of colors with this splash of seasonal inspiration taken in The Palazzo this past September.
I am on the verge of leaving for my first ever press trip, a week-long, whirlwind tour through Honduras. The itinerary is jam packed, and I’m rip-roaring ready to go, but every once in awhile a little tiny wave of panic shoots down my spine. What am I doing preparing for a press trip? This is definitely territory I’ve never been in, and it all seems just a bit overwhelming.
My contacts in the travel writing industry have been great in answering my questions and providing insight into the world of press trips, and I’ve also been doing some research on my own. Here are some of the best resources I’ve found around the web that have been helpful in my preparation for the quickly approaching departure date:
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