February 2009 Archive
Unny and Bindhu are an Indian couple with an insatiable love for travel. Their blog is a colourful repository of people and places throughout India.
I was walking along the Regent’s Canal this weekend as a new resident of Islington in London and wondering how I got here. Not, mind you, in a negative way. Not like those who – ball-gag in their mouth and gun to their head – wonder “How did I get here?” Rather, I was wondering in the happy, positive way of someone who is enjoying themselves at a really fancy party with exciting people.
One year ago in February of 2008, I was living in Toronto with little idea that I would be an ex-patriot Canadian by June. I would say that life moves in mysterious ways, but in reality there is no mystery to it. I chose to move, and did move, and now I am an immigrant to a new country, finally living my dream to live abroad.
The question some of you might be asking is how I did it, because it can seem like one of the scariest concepts ever. How do you take that step and travel, when it can seem so daunting?
I was working full-time in Phoenix and doing evening classes for my MBA (paid for by the same consulting company that I’d later leave just weeks after finishing my degree). I was happy, getting plenty of love and leisure in that lifestyle (despite the terribly full, yet routine schedule).
Corporate brass wanted to promote me to a senior level that would’ve probably doubled my salary and expanded my ability to enact change within the organization. By most standards these dimensions of personal and professional success would’ve been enough to keep the lips of most any 25-year-old grinning from ear to ear, behind a glass of rum at least half his age.
Matt Morelli combines sparse text with abundant (and beautiful) photography in one sleekly designed website. Here To Geneva sucks you in with its observational notes and imagery from destinations throughout Europe.
For a large portion of my travels I did not have a laptop. When it came to blogging about my travels this brought up a heap of new problems. I had no choice but to use public computers, some located in pretty dodgy cyber cafés. Others located in shut up tight ultra modern machines that don’t let you do anything but surf. Here are a few tips and tricks I used when travel blogging from cyber cafés.
My husband and I have been traveling with our laptops for the last eleven months. We’ve visited sixteen countries, taken eighteen flights, fifteen trains and eight long-distance buses, not to mention numerous subways, tuk tuks, long tail boats, scooter taxis, local buses and lots and lots of walking.
And throughout the whole journey, a pair of MacBooks have been along for the ride.
For us, the question of whether to bring our laptops wasn’t really even a question. But it is something we get asked about a lot by other travelers – so here’s my take on whether or not it makes sense to bring a laptop on your journey.
Izzy and Marisa set out in September on a round-the-world trip together, scarcely eight months after they first met. Their journey has taken them through the United States and South America, while they have contemplated their lives and their relationship. This week, Marisa heads back to Mexico to work, while Izzy will continue on the [...]
When your friends all seem to having babies or buying houses, what do you do? Stubbornly resist, of course! In a bid to cling to his youth for a little longer, Geoff is setting out on a round-the-world backpacking trip in March 2009. First stop: Mexico.
I’ve never been very good at keeping in touch. I expect my Facebook status to skip hand in hand with my Twitter account around the fires of my Flickr pages and the result be that everyone knows just enough. When my laptop allows Skype into its inner quarters, I begin my conversations with “so sorry I haven’t been in touch…” and The Other End routinely console me. My Myspace is slumped in a shiver and a dozen ‘RE: Where are you?’ lie beneath dust and disgrace in any one my three spam-infested inbox’s. Postcards? I’ve sent a couple. Text messages? Reserved for belated birthdays.
Here I sit in the patio of a café in Buenos Aires’s small but vibrant Chinatown, dunking a biscotti into a cup of espresso, an indulgence enjoyed underneath the simple pleasure of a tree’s leafy shade. Life is good. The smells of cocina asiatica waft through the air, and the Spainese mix the cooks speak drifts out through the window. It is hot, hot-hot-hot, but the waiter has brought me two glasses of sparkling water and an extra biscotti as a treat to beat the heat. And it’s working.
At my feet lay the shopping bags holding my boyfriend Nick’s Christmas present: spicy curry powder, dried basil, ground paprika, whole wheat flour, chocolate, home-made granola, and micro-brewed beer. So much less than I would like to give him—our careers here as English teachers do not leave us flush with cash.