Adventures with Cloud People – Travel Blog

It is easy to visit a new country, city, town, village and stick to the well worn path of visitors gone. You go scale the famous structure, view the painting, pay your respects to the cathedral. I have found this type of travel ultimately unrewarding. Almost like I should have remained at home in front of the computer and googled the images. I like to travel in a way that replicates the local life as much as possible. Of course, when it ultimately comes down to it, we are tourists and this fact can’t be escaped. Yet there are certain ways where you can get at least a sense of life in a foreign destination. A few simple guidelines follow below.

Food

It amazes me that when abroad, certain travelers seek to eat the meal most resembling what they would devour back home. I cannot fathom their reasoning. Open your pallet to the wonderful myriad of flavours that are on offer. Delight in the tagines of Morocco, the spices of India and the tapas of Spain. Leave at home your need to critique everything from the placement of the garnish, on up. In fact, my most memorable travel dining experiences seem to centre around the anti-fine-dining type eateries such as found in markets or street food. I like the closeness to your fellow diner and open-aired nature of the environment. The smells of the cooking (and whatever else), the noise of people shuffling by. Often, a friendly discussion with the proprietor of the establishment ensues. To me, each meal can become a mini-adventure in itself.

Entertainment

I recall a night in Granada, Nicaragua a few years ago. The hostel inhabitants were gathering to discuss the how the night’s proceedings should transpire. The options were narrowed to two: the “traditional” Nicaraguan location where a local band was playing customary tunes; or the local dance hall that would be pumping electronic music until dawn of the new day. On first glance, the responsible choice seemed clear. I went the “traditional” route. The place was full of tourists and the music was underwhelming. Shortly, a small discontent contingent of us decided to give the other place a shot. The atmosphere could not have been of starker contrast. I think every local youth had made their way there, and the dance action was well and truly underway. Which was the more “authentic” experience? All I know is I busted out dance moves (stylish of course) for countless hours while the ones who hadn’t made the switch were stuck trying to salsa with fellow travelers equally as adept. There are plenty of places about that try to create this authentic experience, but in doing so I believe they strip all the realness out of it. If I see a word like “traditional”, “real”, “authentic” or similar, I steer clear.

Sport

Athletic pursuits break barriers around the world. There is no better way to win a new friend or 10 than by joining a pick-up game of whatever is available. Soccer, I have found, is the most prolific. Tip: It helps to know who Messi and Ronaldo are, and who they play for! Besides joining a game, there are also opportunities to go watch the pros at work. Some of my most memorable travel times have involved supporting a local team, from joining a group of dedicated fans following a Honduran team around the country to cheering on a baseball team’s witch doctor mascot in Nicaragua. You will find yourself hi-fiving everyone within reach at your team’s success, or commiserate together in their failure.

Accomodation

Photos courtesy of onefinestay.com

Where you stay can make or break an entire trip. There isn’t too much “adventure” involved in being cooped up in a hotel watching cable tv. Look for alternative options. The well publicized couch-surfing phenomenon is obviously a great start. Another example of an option is Onefinestay a concept where homeowners in the UK allow travelers to stay in their houses whilst they are away. The homeowner leaves recommendations on what to see, do, eat, etc. Onefinestay calls it the “unhotel” concept. Whatever you decide on, be sure to explore more creative options that will get you in amongst the action instead of languishing in the realm of the tourist.

This list is far too short, but I think the general idea has been conveyed. Other thoughts of localizing your journey might lie in types of transportation (i love walking), volunteering, studying, and the list extends. Break the moulds friends!

Tags: Tips

Our go at the Shit [INSERT PERSON TYPE HERE]‘s Say phenomenon, Shit Backpackers Say.

Border crossings. Never a dull affair. In this post I recount a particularly long day we spent getting into Honduras from Guatemala. The photos are taken with a lomography style four lens camera. I was glad I had it in my pocket. A while ago I posted about this same crossing, but going in the other direction.

Our day began in Livingston, the Garifuna town on the Caribbean coast and along the Rio Dulce in Guatemala. We awoke reasonably early and strolled ourselves down to the dock where a small boat departs for Puerto Barrios every so often.

Puerto Barrios serves as a main port for the export of bananas. As we pulled into dock, a Chiquita ship laden with containers looked almost set to leave. As we wandered around town attempting to hail a bus, the evidence of former US habitation was clear. Whilst the standard house construction around most of Central America utilizes the cinder block, abodes in towns such as Puerto Barrios are often of weather-board construction, raised slightly on stilts. They are a legacy of the early to mid 1900s when an influx of banana company employees arrived. That however is a whole other story involving terms like “Banana Republic” that I won’t delve into here.

We eventually hailed a mini-bus which screeched to a halt when it saw potential passengers. As is typical, it was already loaded. One of the highlights of Central American travel is definitely the level of intimacy you share with people on public transport. We took our inappropriate positions and settled in for the short trip. The ride out from Puerto Barrios to the border is usually about a half-hour affair with a quick stop at the Guatemalan exit. Due to recent storms and floods however, a bridge had been knocked out which meant it wasn’t as straight forward as normal.

We departed the mini-bus at the beginning of the bridge. A couple of men grabbed our packs down from the roof and slid down a fairly steep slope to where some long, rickety looking timber boats bumped in the fast flowing rapids. We too clambered down, and carefully stepped out into one of the boats. The missing gape in the bridge was pretty big and clearly not going to be fixed for a while, so the guys running the boat shuttle service had a good business going. I greatly admire the sense of entrepreneurship of the Central American people. Hole in bridge = business opportunity. Out the other side, we took another short mini-bus ride to the Honduran border.

The building at the border is quite new. Years ago when I first made this crossing, it was but a small shack beside a mud road. Its good to see at least some progress (despite the fallen bridge). We waited in-line behind a girl who was clearly having trouble with the immigration official. Overhearing her conversation, to make a long-story short, she wasn’t allowed in the country because she was from the Ukraine and had failed to get a Visa prior to her arrival. She was clearly frustrated, and who can blame her. I guess with the relatively young “Central American 4” system, there was some confusion somewhere along the line and neither her nor the official really knew for sure what to do. Apparently she had already been there for an hour and with no end in sight, moved aside so we could get through. I had a guilty feeling as with barely a word, the official opened our passports, punched a stamp on a random page and sent us on our way – the luxury of being a citizen of the US and Australia respectively. I can’t tell you how the girl got on since when we left, there was no progress.

Back in Honduras again, and for Jess her first time, I didn’t mess around and headed to the first Pulperia (corner store) in sight to get myself a delicious baleada and introduce Jess to this Honduran delicacy. A baleada is essentially a flour tortilla filled with refried beans and cheese. They are amazing.

Three buses later, we arrived in Tela, the sleepy Caribbean town I lived in for a year. Thankfully we had managed to catch the last bus out of San Pedro Sula with only a few seconds to spare. The final section from SPS to Tela almost felt like a home-coming of sorts. The rows and rows of palm trees rhythmically whizzed past the window as I recounted my days spent here.

It’s no secret that crazy, unexpected stuff goes down as you traverse the globe. It’s good to be covered as you ride a rickety timber boat struggling through rushing rapids. Check out cheap holiday insurance and worldwide travel insurance for some ideas. And for those jet-setting silver foxes and foxettes travel insurance over 65.

These epic days of travel that at the time seem like a nightmare, are for me often some of my fondest recollections. Got any experiences to share?

It’s been a little while since we were out getting amongst the hostel style of living. In fact, exactly one year since we were both working in one! Time flies. Just did a spot of reminiscing and came across a few photos of times past. Unfortunately a lot of them are “controversial” and so I left them out!

Don’t be left out in the cold and away from the party, book your hostel.

The challenges we have faced recently regarding myself gaining a visa to live in the US with Jess seemed to stretch out for an age. Thankfully, the hard part is behind us now and we can start building on our lives together. Yet, as hard as it seemed, the difficulties pale in comparison to those endured by many others seeking to immigrate. The process encouraged me to reflect on the situations of people in less fortunate positions than ourselves and what may possess them to leave their home in search of a better life elsewhere. It also reaffirmed that as travelers too, we can provide insight to people back home who perhaps don’t see the whole picture.

Back home in Australia there is a certain bumper sticker which makes me cringe every time I see it. It is simply a map of the country with the words “F— Off, We’re Full” written below. I think it sums up the narrow and selfish outlook of some of my fellow countrymen. Without wanting to get into the debate of immigration laws, which continues to rage on and on, can’t they recognize what it must take for someone to jump on an atrociously overloaded and rickety old boat for countless kilometres of bumpy seas with only the faintest hope of reaching the mainland let alone being granted refugee status there? Of course, these sentiments aren’t confined only to Australia.

I think people are entitled to a sense of pride in their country and culture. Unfortunately though, I feel that much of the anti-immigration sentiment stems from the threat of loss of national identity that is perceived to be the result of an influx of foreigners. This isn’t necessarily the problem for me. What I find hard to take is the complete lack of compassion, the “go home, you don’t belong here” attitude.

What we can do. I think the best thing we can do is educate. As travelers, we have often ventured into poverty stricken nations, witnessed the desperate situations firsthand. I spent a year teaching in Honduras. It was unusual to speak to someone who actually wanted to stay in Honduras.  These people had very little to look forward to. Unemployment soared, corruption was rife and poverty everywhere. It was difficult to see reasons why they wouldn’t want to leave. We can offer personal insights such as these and offer explanations as to why these people have chosen and will continue to choose to risk it all. Tell a story. Recommend a book. Or better still, inspire someone else to travel. Understanding is the key.

A couple of books that I would encourage everyone to read are What is the What by Dave Eggers and Enrique’s Journey by Sonia Nazario. Both are based on the lives of young men, the former from Sudan and the later from Honduras. The stories document the boy’s lives prior to their immigration attempts, as well as the arduous and extremely dangerous journeys they both took to finally arrive on US soil.

What is your take on immigration, both legal or illegal?

Things have been a bit barren for us on the blog post front lately to say the least. In truth, it wasn’t high on the priority list over these full-on couple of months for us both. All the recent action will culminate on Friday when we tie the knot!

We have been living on opposite sides of the world why I waited for the US Visa to come through. Finally, a few weeks ago it got approved and I was able to make my way to Los Angeles for the big re-unite.

The wedding in some respects is not going to be a romantic affair, since we are just going county court style (largely due to time constraints imposed by the Visa). In many ways however, I feel that all we have been through to get to this stage is romantic enough in itself. Besides, we are going to put something on down the track to properly celebrate the occasion. For now though we are both just happy to get on with our lives together without the restrictions of pieces of paper saying what we can and cannot do. Granted, there is still some wait-time ahead for permission to work and travel and what-not, but the hardest part is definitely over.

So thanks to everyone that still checks back on things here, and we hope to get back to some more regular posting soon. Maybe even one about Friday.

I got this snap back a few months ago out when I was working by the Melbourne Airport. Driving home one day I saw the plane approaching and started wishing I could take a photo. Then I remembered I could do just that, since I had the four-shot lomography sitting on the seat next to me. I frantically wound the window down, pointed the thing in the sky and somehow managed to get the framing pretty spot-on.

Some more snaps taken around suburban Melbourne of the graffiti scene. See our Under the Bridge – Melbourne Graffiti post for a better look at some of the talent in a scene that divides opinions worldwide.

Something I love about cities that doesn’t necessarily appeal to the general travel crowd is their gritty, raw side. The places that will never grace any travel brochures, and are generally hidden from normal viewing have a strange appeal to me. One particular feature that I seek out is graffiti. I recently took a spin on my bike around the outskirts of Melbourne to check out some of the under the bridge art sites. Some of the talent is pretty incredible. Indeed relativly recently, a number of street artists have displayed their wares in a gallery setting with stunning success. But, away from the “heights” of the high-art world, I wonder what motivates these underground artists, to put so much time and effort into pieces that will gain appreciation amongst only a very select crowd. Maybe its the risks involved, the breaking the rules aspect, sticking it to the authorities. Or maybe its more for the sake of the piece itself, doing your best work and not really caring who sees it.

Graffiti. Love it or hate it, its here to stay. What’s your take on the street art scene?

One of my favorites places to go to as a child was Carpinteria State Beach, just twelve miles south of Santa Barbara. You can get camping spots there for pretty cheap and my parents would load up all the kids, a few pots and pans, our green canvas tent and take off. A lot of families from where I grew up would do the same thing and it eventually became the place to be during spring break in high school. I haven’t been home over the summer in years, let alone taken the time to go camping.

Recently my mom, sisters and I decided to drive up with the boys, Regalo and Gruner, for the day. We took my parents small but impressive motorhome with us to accommodate the dogs and just in case there was a camping spot available for the night. Miraculously, there was one spot still available for our crew. The camping sites are even more in demand than they were when I was younger and getting a spot without reserving one is extremely rare. Fortunately, we had my mom with us. She’s a guru of camping. The woman knows everything and I have yet to learn anything about it! She even tried to pass on her knowledge as my girl scout leader. I was too busy making friendship bracelets to bother with perfecting my cow hitch. After settling in and catching a swim, we hit up the local grocery store for a night time BBQ and beers. We ended the night with one too many rounds of Yaniv and not enough Tecate.

In the morning we headed back to the beach.  There is a section of beach that is dog friendly.  The boys have never seen the beach before and fell in love, especially Gruner.  When we’re at home he won’t go anywhere near the pool but at the beach he could resist running into the water to catch and attempt to “eat” the waves.  Since Jamie is also a camping “guru” of sorts he should fit right in at Carpinteria camping grounds.  We’re planning a trip as soon as he gets back to LA!