Travel Blogs

Road Warrior Confession: I Am Up In The Air

Posted by GregW | 19th January 2010

Upon arriving at the Courtyard Marriott hotel on my recent trip to Toronto, I bypassed the regular line and wandered right up to the “Elite Guest Check-in” desk.

“Checking in for Wesson,” I said, handing my credit card to the front-desk clerk.

The front-desk clerk punched my name into the computer and said. “Yes, Mr. Wesson. Welcome back. You are staying with us for four nights?”

I nodded.

The front-desk clerk continued. “Excellent. We have your Platinum number on file. As your arrival gift, would you like the bonus points, or would you prefer to get something from our Market,” the clerk asked, motioning towards the small shop for snacks and drinks.

“I’ll take the points,” I said. I smiled to myself and thought, “That’s another two-hundred and fifty more points towards my goal.”

Continued | Greg Wesson's Esoteric Globe

It's Dracula Christmas

Posted by kookie888 | 17th January 2010

What were the odds of the nine of us all being from different countries? I asked myself as I waited for my main course at one of the most impressive restaurants I had ever been to. I sat at a large table in a grand, ornate setting blessed with classic architecture that supports the original label of Bucharest as 'Little Paris'. Caru' Cu Bere, one of the oldest beer houses in Bucharest opened in its present location in 1899 and hosted an amiable crowd, unlikely of its architectural caliber and offered meals at regular prices. Our table was nine-strong and consisted of Portuguese, South African, Taiwanese-American, Scottish, Swiss, Belgian, Romanian, Egyptian and English flavours. Franco sat to my right and kept the atmosphere light and humorous. He'd been the one to offer me a beer and invite me out with the group earlier that evening, so that's two friendly Portuguese men I'd met recently. Franco was not quite as cordial as Othello from the Turkish baths, but then that wasn't such a bad thing.

Continued | Right foot forward

On the road again!!!

Posted by robandpol | 13th January 2010

By the beginning of January the rainy season and therefore our time on Shyira hill was drawing to an end. It was sad to be saying goodbye to all the people who had been such an important part of our lives over the last few months but with all endings come new beginnings and we were excited by the prospect of what lay ahead for us.

Continued | LongWayHome

El Bolson

Posted by jonshapiro | 8th January 2010

About two hours south of Bariloche, this restful and scenic town has been a place to get it away from it all since back to the land hippy-types came here in the 60's and 70's. It is known as the Woodstock of Argentina. How it fared during the Dirty War in the late 70's is an interesting question, and not one I know the answer to. I'll just have to come back to do the research.

It is located in a large green valley surrounded by rocky peaks, and is known to have a micro-climate which makes it warmer than surrounding areas. There are small chakras, selling some of the best berry preserves I have ever tasted, as well as microbreweries, (very micro) selling their own beer. Perhaps these are still being run by ex-hippies, but most are older and straighter looking now. There is also a craft market several days a week, selling jewelery, knitted clothes, some food, and the usual assortment of mediocre art.

Continued | Vagabonding at 60

Wardner Beginnings

Posted by Rhombus | 6th January 2010

I got up early. The night before I had plans of leaving early to be on time for a full day of skiing at Silver Mountain in Kellogg, Idaho. Upon hearing my alarm, I immediately slammed it off, and resumed my slumber. So much for that. When I did wake up, I checked the forecast, and learned Lookout Pass would be snow covered and slippery. The pass marks the border of Montana and Idaho. I put my game face on, and loaded up with a double shot mocha and coffee cake for breakfast. I drove north by northwest towards the pass through snow and low lying mists.

Continued | The Dusty Vagabond

Malinalco: Season of the Witch

Posted by skiphunt | 4th January 2010

By the map Malinalco seemed to be just a stone’s throw from Tepoztlan, but once you crossed the freeway to Mexico City is was fairly mountainous. Roads weren’t marked so well either. (surprise, surprise) ;-)

I missed the turn off from the main freeway and it looked like I was going to have to pay the toll to Mexico City just to get to the turn around, then pay the toll again to go the other way just to get to the turn-off I just missed. A Mexican trucker just pointed over to the break in the concrete-walled median and said I should cross there instead. Seemed reasonable… until the first truck nearly grazed my front wheel that was poking out on the opposite side while I tried to see if someone was coming. That was such a bad idea and I don’t recommend trying it. I came inches away from getting nailed by that truck. Note to self, pay the toll to turn around even though it’s a Mexican rip-off. Better getting ripped off than getting squashed by a truck!

Continued | Skip Hunt Vagabond

Let The Milk of Human Kindness Flow

Posted by beerman | 31st December 2009

To kick off the New Year (Hello 2010), I’d like to give a few pointers (no, not the dogs) to the travelers and soon-to-be travelers among us (though if you want a dog, don’t let me stop you – they’ll do anything for you, including drooling). You can make the absolute most of your experiences around the world by following just a few simple suggestions from this fellow traveler. Even better, you can enrich your life and the lives of those around you. And who doesn’t want to be enriched? C’mon, you can tell me….I won’t tell anyone….

Continued | Travel Unravelled

Seaside to Sarajevo

Posted by kookie888 | 29th December 2009

Lake Balaton is definitely a summer destination I whispered to myself as I strolled through the wooden business huts near Balatonlelle train station, each one with its windows, doors and hatches locked-shut, and had been for some time. Flags curled in the wind, leaves scuttled across the ground and the air vacuous with the absence of human frivolity, some places are made for people and without them, those places feel very strange indeed, like walking through a funfair after closing. The sun shone unobstructed from the canvas blue sky, but this was December, there were no tourists, or holidaying Hungarians to expend their purses and bring this town to life with their antics and city-earned wages until Springtime. The boats bobbed gently in the mooring, the whites and blues becoming one continuous body of nautical swaying. A dozen fishermen lined the rocky outcrop, which extended into the lake like a tiny finger. One of them saying something to me in hope of an agreeing response, the way we do when we express our superficial thoughts on our surroundings. 'Ah, English....OK'. That was enough to end his fervour. I sat on the sand lining the shore, it was an industrial grey sand that hinted at man's influence. A single swan fluttered its wings and moved off into the distance. The soft turquoise of the water met with the sky on the far side of the lake where faded hills defined the horizon. This was to be my last full day in Hungary, I had been blessed with favourable weather and a stillness to the air that brought a calm reassurance to an uncertain afternoon.

Continued | Right foot forward