I went to TBU thinking I would enjoy a wonderful opportunity to meet many of the bloggers I’ve yet to cross paths with on my wanderings, and hopefully get in a glass of wine or two in the process. I left waxing poetic about Umbria, so much so that upon my return to Montreal my mother, exasperated, said “yes, yes we know you love Umbria. But how was the rest of your six months away?”

Credit for this newfound crush goes in large part to the team at Umbria on the Blog and to the regional tourism board, who put our itineraries together. With a choice between several trips, I opted for Food, Wine and Handicrafts (the first of six options), thinking it would provide fodder for an article on the history of olive oil, as well as some fun learning. And wine. We can’t forget the wine.

What I didn’t expect was a press trip that didn’t feel like a press trip at all. It was cozy and wonderful, full of newness and learning. Our guide Fabio had more enthusiasm than the rest of the country combined. He gesticulated wildly, he made fun of all of us equally, he acted as our DJ on the bus. (If you take a look at the video below, I am caught on camera shoving him into a wall. Playfully, of course. But that’s the kind of guide he was – fast friends with all of us.) We didn’t have 8-course dinners in big restaurants, we had tiny help-yourself-to-thirds meals at a farm, or jump-into-the-kitchen lunches at vineyards. We made candles, we made Rocciata, we laughed, we cried. Really, it felt like a family vacation. And that’s quite rare on a trip you didn’t even build yourself.

I’m going to divide up the photos into two separate posts, because if you’ve read this site for more than a few minutes, you know that food deserves its own lauding, which it shall have. As I’ve said on the LN Facebook page, I was shocked to find Italy the most receptive and accomodating to celiacs, enjoying my share of homemade gluten-free pasta, breads and more. The food, it shall be shown.

But first!

The rest. We began in Bevagna for the handicrafts portion of the trip:

Bevagna on a cloudy, misty morning.

Bevagna: where cats match the walls.

Period workshop in Bevagna recreates how paper was made in medieval times.

At a time when we ought to have been learning about papermaking, a few of us snuck away to a more sinister end:

Other period recreations were left entirely up to us. Alex from Fluent in Frolicking, enjoying some rest.

Adventurous Kate and Budget Traveller, with appropriate angst.

We recovered from our obnoxious interlude and moved onto the artist’s portion of the day, one of my favourites. The studio displayed minerals ground into colourful powders, to be combined with egg yolks and affixed to canvas. Gold leaf accessorized the results with a celestial shine, and the results were deep colours of lapiz lazuli (blue), ground mollusk shells (purple), ochre (red) and – quite dangerously – white lead for the white hues.

Artist's studio recreated to reflect tools from medieval times in Bevagna

Gold leaf for paintings in Bevagna.

Eggs for affixing the paint to paintings in Bevagna

Some tilt-shift fun in Bevagna's tiny alleyways.

Walking down the winding, narrow streets our guide Fabio ran into Luiggi Frappi, a well-known artist now living in Bevagna. Swiftly, we were invited up to his studio with a smile, photographing the many paintings and materials. I loved this mannequin facing the window, gazing down at the cobblestones below:

Inside Luigi Frappi's studio in Bevagna, a last-second detour when we ran into him on the street.

Inside Luigi Frappi's studio: tools for the painting (modern day, this time!)

Next up was candlemaking, more difficult than it seems. As you can see by the concentrated effort in the video below, getting an even twist isn’t simple. The results:

Candlemaking in Bevagna - more fun than you think possible.

… And then the drinking began.

Vineyard from Terre Margaritelli.

At Terre Margaritelli we met the adorable couple of Federico Bibi from Italy and his wife Jennifer McIlvaine, from Philadelphia. Jennifer is a chef and blogs at Life…Italian Style and together they explained that while the vineyard had been around since the 1950s, they only started selling wines as a retail offering six years ago. Before that, the grapes were sold to other bottlers, divided into red and white sections but with little knowledge of what varieties were planted in the vineyard. So 12 years ago, they decided to replant everything and thus understand (and control) exactly what grapes were being used. They also decided to become certified organic and run the kitchen under the same principles. More to come from this vineyard in the food portion (my next Umbria post) but before I do, I’d be remiss to leave out the supermodel pony we met at lunch:

Farfalina, the mini-pony at Terre Margaritelli

Farfalina, a lovely pint-sized wonder, was adorable until she backed into me at the end of lunch, covering my backside with pony hair. In turn, this spawned the unfortunate Twitter hashtag #ponyrub and caused the phrase “your ass is still covered in pony” to become part of Group 1′s lexicon.

As you can see, on day one we were already off to a roaring start.

Beautiful wine barrels from France at Terre Margaritelli

Most of us hadn’t checked the itinerary for the afternoon, so we were surprised to realize we were headed to yet another winery, that of the Lungarotti family.

Lungarotti winery's Francesco Zaganelli, explaining the process to us.

Lungarotti winery's many wine processing steps - one of the bigger wineries in the region.

We also visited two museums, one for the history of wine, and one for the history of olive oil (below).

Olive Oil museum in Torgiano provided some great background to the delicious oils we had been sampling.

And also some techniques used throughout the ages.

Fortuitously, our trip took us through Torgiano on the Feast of Saint George, an annual event that celebrates the beginning of spring with porchetta, prayers and a giant bonfire with the older vines from last year’s harvest. Happily for me, it also included a tree that looks like broccoli:

Lungarotti winery invited us to the Feast of Saint George, where there were many trees that looked like broccoli.

The best part of the evening was that we were crashing a local event; this wasn’t at all about us, it was about the tradition of the region and about the food and wine that binds it together. We sat around with locals and munched on fresh fava beans, watching the tables of laughing people that surrounded us. With dusk came the first flames of the bonfire, eventually rising up into the clouds. Bit by bit smaller bonfires were lit in the surrounding hills. It was an intimate evening, and I felt lucky to have been invited to participate, even for just a few hours.

Bonfire at the Feast of Saint George in Torgiano

Happy, warm and slightly buzzed Group 1, our guide Fabio (center left), and Francesco and Teresa from Lungarotti winery.

Our last day had us in Montefalco, visiting the beautiful church of San Francesco and an incredible library full of old manuscripts and coats of arms.

Montefalco's incredible ancient manuscripts library.

The crest of Montefalco set against its older books.

Ancient manuscript in Montefalco's rare books library.

Church of San Francesco in Montefalco. The church is known for its fresco cycle on the life of St. Francis, from the Florentine artist Benozzo Gozzoli.

We lunched at another vineyard, this one owned by the Caprai family, and they were kind enough to invite us to see their clothing store and lace museum when we all made it clear we wanted to learn more. This kind of impromptu manoeuvring is part of what made the trip that much more fun; we all got excited about something, then Fabio or the hosts suggested we explore it further.

Vintage walnut sewing kit from the Caprai family's Cruciani store.

Dinner was at the tiny Mandorli farm I mentioned earlier, cooked by the nonna of all nonnas, a woman with a twinkle in her eye and some incredible talent in the kitchen. We all huddled on the deck, watching the sun set into Trevi.

A dark sunset over Mandorli farm in nearby Bovara (Trevi).

Exhausted, we arrived at our hotel to find Fabio had taken matters into his own hands. After two days of chanting for gelato, he and our hotel arranged for an impromptu gelato-making class, thick and delicious. At 11pm, already stuffed from a long evening of delicious food, we had no problems making room for a little more.

Impromptu gelato-making session at Delfina Palace hotel.

Like a choose-your-own-adventure that hones in on an inevitable conclusion, all of the mini press trips ended in Narni, coinciding with the Corsa all’Anello, a costume festival with Narnians in traditional Umbrian dress.

We ended the trip in Narni, Italy, with all the different post-conference trips coming together for one big meal.

We snaked through the narrow streets to see some of the sights in town (like the 13th century frescos below) and then met for a lunch served by volunteers from the costume festival, who took time out of their day to ensure we were fed.

Exploring church frescos from the 13th & 15th centuries in Narni

Of all the ways to end a trip like this, a town-wide medieval costume-fest seemed perfectly apt. With most of us heading to opposite directions with gave a last Group 1 hug and moved on, a colourful scene as a final farewell.

And capping off the week with the Corsa all’Anello, a traditional costume festival in Narni.

More to come from the food side, but below is all of the above in video format. Next up, a Thrillable Hours interviewee from Palau.

-Jodi

Photoessay: Umbria in Three Days is a post from: Legal Nomads

* * *

What made you decide to follow a less conventional path than typical law school graduates? Was there a particular moment that catalyzed the decision for you?

It was really a gradual evolution for me. By the time I was a senior in high school, I knew I was going to law school. I started taking practice LSAT tests as early as my sophomore year in college! Everything I did in college was designed to enhance my chances of getting into a good law school.  At the same time, by the time I applied to schools, I didn’t really see myself practicing law. Rather, I thought a legal education would provide a good background to get into international relations. In my law school admission essays, I wrote about wanting to eventually work at a U.S. embassy overseas.

Unfortunately, I got sidetracked by the money that big law firms were willing to throw at new law school graduates and ended up as a tax attorney at a large international firm in Chicago. The firm had offices all over the world so I figured eventually I would end up working on cross-border transactions and get to travel. I spent four years there, working ridiculous hours and not once setting foot on a plane, before I left for a smaller firm. The first six months there were great – better hours, new and interesting work, but soon I found myself bored out of my mind and the thought of practicing tax law for the rest of my life was unbearable.

When I started looking at leaving the practice of law, I considered several options: legal recruiting, law school career advising and law school alumni relations and development. I had opportunities in each, but the latter seemed to provide the most stability and best career path, so I went that route. I spent three years planning alumni events, editing an alumni newsletter and managing alumni volunteers before being promoted to work as a major gift fundraiser. For the last year, I worked to identify and cultivate potential donors with high giving capacity with the goal of eventually asking them to make a significant financial contribution to the school.

Katie enjoying Olkhon Island in Lake Baikal, Siberia in November.

What do you find most fulfilling about your current job?

I left my job as a major gift fundraiser in August to take a year to volunteer and travel through the 15 countries of the former Soviet Union. While working in alumni relations and development (fundraising), there were aspects of the work that I found fulfilling – hearing from alumni who were thrilled to reconnect with a favorite classmate or professor; getting rave reviews about an event I organized; or meeting with students who benefited from alumni mentors or scholarship funds. Unfortunately, those instances weren’t enough to leave me feeling fulfilled overall.

Many might call my current journey a “career break,” but I like to look at it as another career transition. I know I need to find a way to combine my passion for all things travel-related with what I do for a living. I have thought for years about starting my own travel-planning business (and even took an online course before leaving), but I could also see myself working for a tourism board, tour company or travel agency, heading overseas to work for an international non-profit or in the foreign service, or even going back to a university setting to work with study abroad or international programs. The possibilities seem endless!

While my “job” for the last 8 months has been traveling and blogging about it, I recently joined Meet, Plan, Go! as managing editor on a part-time basis while I travel. Since their mission is to encourage and inspire North Americans to take career breaks and travel, it is a perfect fit.

Do you have any advice for professionals who are interested in leaving private practice but concerned about what is out there?

From what I have seen, it is becoming increasingly common for lawyers to leave the practice the law – whether out of necessity due to lay-offs or a feeling of dissatisfaction with their careers. Law schools are starting to address alternative careers more as well, encouraging students to use a legal education in a non-traditional way from the get-go. For me, the biggest hurdle was convincing potential employers that I really, truly didn’t want to practice law anymore. It was also a challenge to revamp my resume when all of my professional experience was in the law. I worked closely with a career counselor at my law school to highlight skills I developed in jobs in college and extracurricular activities in law school.

For anyone thinking of switching gears and leaving the law behind, I would encourage them to take a close look at their strengths and weaknesses and give serious thought to what they like or dislike about their current job. Develop a resume and cover letter that highlights your transferable skills, whether they are from your current job or ten years ago. Keep an open mind and network like crazy. Every interview I got was due to someone I knew.

Finally, don’t expect to make the leap overnight. I read somewhere that it takes an average of six months of serious looking to make a career change. In this economy, don’t be surprised if it takes longer, but don’t get discouraged. I looked for about four months without a single interview and then had multiple opportunities arise within a few days.

Katie Aune finishing the Tallinn Marathon in September 2011

How did your legal education inform the way you see the world today? Do you still identify yourself as a lawyer?

 What do you have to say to those who tell me lawyers can’t have fun?

They’re wrong! Seriously, law school was actually one of the best times of my life. I think a lot of lawyers have a personality that tends toward having a “work hard, play hard” philosophy. They may work their tails off and put in 70 hours a week at the office, but when they have the chance to let loose, they make the most of it. All of my lawyer friends know how to live it up, whether it’s hitting the town in Chicago, heading to Vegas for a weekend or ringing in the New Year in New Orleans.

* * *

 Katie Aune is a Minnesota native who has called Chicago home for the last ten years. After practicing law for six years and working at a law school for the next four, Katie quit her job last summer to spend a year volunteering and traveling through all 15 countries of the former Soviet Union. She is also a sports fanatic and running enthusiast who has been gluten free since 2010. Katie writes about her travels on Katie Going Global and she launched a website for gluten free travellers called Globally Gluten Free.

Thrillable Hours: Katie Aune, Travel Blogger & Editor is a post from: Legal Nomads

However, I just returned from Italy, so Italy is where I will begin. Throughout the summer months in North America, where I will remain for family time and conferences, I will continue to update from the last months of travel. Expect photos and stories and an illicit amount of delicious meals; I’m in Montreal now but I’m dreaming of foods from elsewhere.

As others have said, the paradox of travel blogging is that when you’re writing you’re not travelling, and when you’re travelling you’re not writing. Fitting obligations into the Tetris board of when to do what isn’t as simple as it seems when you fall asleep at your keyboard after a day of discovery. It’s a wonderful problem to have to be sure, but I’m guilty of having turned away from the site after the success of the 4 year anniversary post and in the wide-eyed wonder of discovering Umbria.

Prelude to lunch at Terre Margaritelli in Umbria

Fresh fava beans in Umbria, perfect with Pecorino cheese

It’s the connections that make or break a place, that transform a beautiful scene into a lasting memory. The nodes of interaction and friendship and conversation pull an everyday dinner into the surreal or fantastic, taking a meal and braiding the dishes from the table into everyone’s personal stories. And it’s those connections, too, that last long after you’ve moved on or the meal is over.

I met Jessica from Why Go Italy at a conference in New York and in an instant I knew we’d be friends for the long haul. Within moments we were whispering conspiratorially about Uruguay and the World Cup while we were supposed to be listening to panels about blogging; together we rushed out once the afternoon sessions were over, focused singlehandedly on finding good food for dinner. It’s only fitting, then, that she was the one who connected me with Linda and Steve, unexpectedly my hosts during my first few days in Italy.

* * *

I came to Italy to speak as the closing keynote for the TBU Umbria conference, talking to a few hundred travel bloggers and PR people about curation and building a trusted brand in social media. But with my Thai visa running out on 11 April (and two years of Songkran being sufficient to hold me over for awhile), I left Thailand before its new year and planned to stay with a friend in Rome before the conference began.

Quite suddenly, she got very ill and was unable to host me. With the more reasonable hostels and guesthouses booked up, I emailed Jessica in a panic, figuring she might have contacts that could help me find a place for the week. Not only did Linda and Steve come through for me, putting me up at their wonderful guesthouse (The Beehive) when they had a last minute cancellation, but they then took me back with them to their home in Orvieto for 3 nights. Orvieto wasn’t on the cards at all – my post-conference trip actually took me elsewhere – and I’m very thankful to have explored it with such great hosts.

Steve and Linda at the Orvieto train station

It is surreal to go from a tiny room Thailand with street eats for all my meals and all sorts of ingrained cultural norms to the Latin feel of Italy, home cooking and all. Steve and Linda took care of the cooking and then some – fantastic meals of polenta and ratatouille, of risotto and even gluten-free pasta with fresh tomato sauce. All topped with copious amounts of parmigiano. It’s strange, too, to unlearn some of the more careful reactions in social situations. Handing money only with your right hand, bowing down with arm outstretched slightly when walking by someone, wai’ing people to say hello. Without going back to North America, I simultaneously suffered a strange midway reverse culture shock while being exposed to a rash of newness and beauty. Coming from the concrete madness of Bangkok, the fields of bright poppies and colourful graffiti seemed very much out of place. I sat tight in Orvieto, waiting for the calibration to hit.

Fiumicino train station, just off the plane.

Bright red poppies against the grass, a beautiful sight.

Adjust I did, and if I could pick a tiny medieval town to begin that process, Orvieto would be it. Moreover, if there were ever two perfect people to house me as I did so, Steve and Linda would fit the bill. They not only run The Beehive from Orvieto, but also their second business, apartment rental site called Cross-Pollinate. They’re from the States but they’ve lived in Italy for a decade, with a sidestep to Bali for 2 intervening years.  Partly as a result of what they’ve seen and lived and partly because of their open spirit they – and their three daughters – are worldly and kind, observant and quick to adjust to new places, and interested in connecting with fellow wanderers who love to live life abroad.

Tilt-shift Orvieto and its surrounding hills

Orvieto was their chosen home after the return from Bali, a beautiful medieval town that sits on a volcanic butte overlooking the surrounding Umbrian hills. Their girls go to school right around the corner; the town is small enough that they know it well and can navigate it better than most tour guides. Two of their daughters took me on a small tour with Steve; while he pointed out the surrounding businesses and farms, they played on the grass near the edge of the rock. I can see how it’s an appealing place to raise a family, just an hour outside of Rome by train but a world unto its own.

Signage for some of the smaller shops in town.

From inside the Torre del Moro, staring out at the clock face.

After some exploration of Orvieto, feet against cobblestones.

Orvieto has strong Etruscan roots and was a major centre of Etruscan civilization, flourishing at the beginning of the 6th century BC with an economy based on bronze work and ceramics. It was annexed by the Romans in 264 BC who all but destroyed the town; it then fell to the Lombards in 606. Eventually (and by “eventually” I mean “in 1348″) it came under papal control in after the town was decimated by the plague. The town remained a papal possession until 1860, when it was annexed to unified Italy.

Present-day Orvieto is most known for its beautiful gothic Duomo (construction began  in 1290 and ended in 1591) and its porchetta, truffles and Umbrian wine. Not a bad combination. Another popular day trip involves a tour of the underground tunnels that snake their way beneath the stone buildings. Coming from Montreal (with 26km of tunnels to call our own) this makes perfect sense to me. Why not have another way to get around? You never know when above-ground options are just imprudent.

A view of Orvieto from atop the Torre del Moro

The history of the impressive Duomo is an interesting one. Per Travel Umbria:

It is said that in the 1260s, a skeptical priest who doubted that the bread used in communion was really the body of Christ, passed through Bolsena (a few miles from Orvieto) while on a pilgrimage to Rome. During Mass there, the bread bled, staining a linen cloth. The cloth was apparently then brought to the pope, who just happened to be visiting Orvieto at the time. The pope felt that such a miraculous event required a truly magnificent church, and the Duomo we see today was designed and built.

The centuries of work resulted in an incredibly detailed facade and beautiful stripes, alternating layers of white marble and blue-grey basalt stone.

The Duomo's frescos against a blue sky

Striped marble and a relaxing afternoon.

Staring up at the sky from the base of the Duomo.

Mosaic tiling and stone at entranceway to the duomo.

My three nights there were spent preparing for my keynote at TBU, braiding hair (and getting mine braided in return), teaching their daughters how to do jumping shots and playing games of memory.

And eating.

We can’t forget the eating.

Viola and Paloma, playing a game of memory.

Teaching Giulia, Paloma and Viola how to do a jumping shot.

Sometimes the connections we make take root. This visit was – I thought – purely work-based and yet I found myself introduced head-first into a family of people who have been here for years and still see the newness of each day. It’s an excellent reminder that even when you least expect it sprawling friendships can emerge, crossing time zones and borders and converging at any given moment in this tiny but wide world.

More to come from Umbria!

-Jodi

Unexpectedly in Orvieto is a post from: Legal Nomads

For those who are just starting out or reading from home or mulling over what they too have picked up along the way, some practical tips from 4 years of travelling around the world:

1. Being a solo traveler does not mean that you are lonely.

One of the most frequent questions I receive is “are you lonely travelling alone?” This is a natural assumption; before they visited, even my parents envisioned my sitting alone and singing myself to sleep. But when they met me in Bangkok, they quickly realized there was a vibrant community of journalists and writers and photographers and almost instantly, I had a group of friends. The nature of travel is that it intensifies human experiences, transcending social rules that would apply at home. So when I meet a great group of people we end up spending days talking, sharing meals and exploring – despite the fact that if this was New York and I said “hey, let’s share lunch, dinner and drinks for the next seven days straight“ I’d be deemed a stalker. Those rules don’t apply. Most people are open to meeting others and learning from them as they travel. With the exception of #12, below, I don’t ever feel lonely.

2. Be a travel parasite.

No, this does not mean mooching off friends or family. What it means is learning how to use guidebooks to your advantage. While they are useful to have for the history of a place or the basics in itinerary planning, I rarely look to guidebooks for the name of a hostel or restaurant. Instead, I look at their recommendations as things to piggyback on. Lonely Planet recommends a place as “Our Pick”? Great, I go there, and walk two doors down to stay nearby. Rough Guides says “this is the best restaurant in town”? Perfect! Almost every one of those recommendations will spawn another restaurant within walking distance. Industrious entrepreneurs quickly learn that when these books recommend a place, they quickly get overcrowded and prices go up. The solution: they open a place right next door or nearby to handle the spillover. Without fail, those are the places that are cheaper, more delicious and not jaded. Being a parasite isn’t always a bad thing. (Having parasites? Not so much.)

3. There are things you should not leave home without.

Regardless of what climate I pack for, I’ve always got these five things in my bag: safety whistle, doorstop, headlamp, sleep sheet and sarong. I’ve got many other mainstays as well, but these four are there, for shorter trips or longer trips or anything in between.

Additional notes (Apr 6):-

• Someone submitted this to MeFi (I’m a longtime reader, so that was exciting to see – *waves back*) with the question “I guess I must be inexperienced at travel but I don’t think I’ve ever found myself wishing I had a doorstop. Can someone tell me what this is about?”. The answer is that I’ve found it a comfort to have if I’m in a hostel room alone because it means you’ll usually hear the door fidgeting if someone is trying to open it while you are asleep. It’s not a failsafe prevention, of course, but it has come in handy and it gives me extra peace of mind when I go to bed.
• Another note to the MeFi thread asked about items like antibacterial gel or earplugs. Yes, of course I have those with me. I wanted to list some items that were less conventional but take up very little room. And yes, I probably am an overpacker, but at 5ft with a 54L pack, that can only mean so much :)
• To those curious about why I recommend a safety whistle, it isn’t to draw attention in uncomfortable situations (I’ve yet to use it in that way), but because it has come in handy while being chased by a group of monkeys or stranded in a boat in Myanmar. I devoted a post to it because I do think it’s great to have for general safety reasons (especially if you are hiking) but I thought it would be best illustrated with some of the ridiculous times I’ve had to use it on my trip.

4. Everything else you can buy.*

I didn’t believe it at first – “what if I forget to pack something!” But I’ve learned that most things can be bought abroad, from t-shirts to bras to new flip flops when a monkey throws yours over a cliff. Toiletries are a learning experience in and of themselves (trying to find non-whitening deodorant in Thailand? Not as easy as you might think) and often teach you a lot about a country in the process. I’ve posted a few packing lists from other bloggers on my resources page and they are great at outlining what you need. But if you forget something, you can usually finagle a suitable replacement on the road.

*If you have prescription meds from home, these are something you might want to plan for during your travels. Also, your passport. Please don’t forget to pack your passport.

5. Food makes the world go round.

You may not be a chef or foodie or spice-obsessed individual, but you cannot deny that in most of the world, the nexus of culture, tradition and family is food. If you don’t want to learn about the history of how spices got there or spend your days stuffing your face with everything you can like I do, take a cooking class. See if you can learn how to cook with a local family. Go to the markets and watch how people eat, how they handle their foods or when their primary mealtimes occur. These rhythms are relevant to your travels because most places are so much more than a list of sights to see; most places tie their food to their communities, to their history. You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you missed out on it.

Penang curry at Pun Pun, Thailand

6. Your taxi driver knows where to eat breakfast more than you do.

Swap this out for tuk-tuk driver, songthaew driver or rickshaw driver, where appropriate. When I go to a new place, I find the eldest cab driver possible and ask him where he ate breakfast. Once he gets over his shock that this is what I want to know, he tends to break into a huge grin and start talking about food. Eventually, he takes me there. And the food is almost always delicious, fresh and somewhere I’d have never found without his help. Taxi drivers: more than just getting from A to B.

7. Stop listening to people who tell you not to pack jeans.

Do you love your jeans? Great, put them in your backpack. I don’t care whether people tell you they won’t dry fast enough (this is a non-starter in warm climates) or that they take up too much room (oh HAI Lycra, how wonderfully compact you make my jeans!) or that they’re not maleable enough. I made the mistake of not packing jeans when I left in 2008 and they were the first thing I bought in South America. I’ve had a pair with me every since. While my  quick-dry pants are terrific for hiking, I personally don’t feel fashionable in them, and when I join expats or others for dinner somewhere, I want to feel like I fit in. I also want to feel like myself, and I do wear jeans quite a lot when I am back in North America. If you’re someone who hates jeans to begin with, this isn’t for you. But if you do enjoy wearing them, bring them along. You’ll be happier for it.

8. Oranges are the perfect public transportation snack.

I started bringing a bag of oranges with me for long bus rides, primarily because they quench thirst and smell delicious. I quickly learned that many Thai and Burmese busgoers sniff the peels to stave off nausea, and that kids love oranges. Really: kids LOVE oranges. So for those who want to bring something for the bus ride but rightfully worry about giving sweets to kids, oranges are your friend. You will win over the parents, make the kids happy, occupy your hours and eventually get fed by everyone on the bus. Trust me. You should always have a bag of oranges on hand, the smaller the orange the better.

If oranges aren’t present where you are, substitute a similar peelable fruit. In China, this was longan or lychees, in the Philippines it was lanzones. You get the idea.

These small citrus fruits go a long way.

9. Cough drops are to cab drivers what oranges are to kids on buses.

I stock up on cough drops before I need to get a cab because cabbies love cough drops. I have no scientific backing for my theory, but I can attest to the fact that in every cab I’ve taken, the driver is thrilled to take one from me. After the initial grumpiness, a cough drop is offered, a smile follows and suddenly we’re singing Journey at the top of our voices and playing air guitar. My cough drop offerings have resulted not just in impromptu karaoke but also a detour tour of the Corniche (Casablanca, where cabs are fixed far), food (Thailand, of course, where everyone wants to feed you) and attending a wedding (Myanmar and Bali). Even when you don’t receive anything as grandiose as a wedding invite, it lightens the mood considerably and often surprises the cab driver; you’ll be guaranteed interesting conversation if the cabbie speaks English, a great icebreaker to learn the story of his life. Cough drops: making your taxi experiences better, one cabbie at a time.

10. Opening your eyes and mind to connecting with others matters more than getting “off the beaten path.”

I devoted a whole post to this but I want to reiterate it here because I think it’s one of the most important lessons I learned. Remaining open to meeting new people and learning from them goes farther than you think. You can get off the beaten path and have little visceral connection to the land or the people because you’ve insulated yourself in your thoughts to fixating on being different. Conversely, you can remain in one of the busiest places in town and still forge relationships with others and walk away with incredible stories and experiences. This is not a black and white issue: for those who do keep their minds open, getting off the beaten path is usually meaningful and wonderful because they’re piling on additional experiences to an already-open spirit. However the bottom line remains: it isn’t enough to go somewhere secret or dangerous or exciting. It’s important also to look beyond that and focus on the beauty of what you can learn from others as you go.

11. People are more alike than you think.

My preferred way of connecting to people is via food but regardless of your passions or interests, travelling will also open your eyes to the fact that we are all more alike than we think. Yes, there are cultural differences and traditions that differ – vastly – but the basics of human emotions and the kindness in a smile are omnipresent, and a beautiful reminder of our shared humanity. Be it the Laotian woman on my bus to Vientiane who only wanted to talk about how men in Thailand thought they were better than men in Laos, to the soldiers in the Philippines who wanted to know how we in Canada survived without growing our own rice, to the family in Bolivia who asked why tourists didn’t swaddle their babies on their back, Bolivian-style. Threads of common human queries – love, food, parenting, and many more – resurface again and again. Ask questions, encourage people to ask them of you. In the end, these knots of human connection are what makes the world go round.

Me and Mrs. Pa, the best smoothie lady in Chiang Mai

12. The times when you are sick are the loneliest.

While I said above that I’m almost never lonely, the times when I am sick are the times when I would do anything to click my heels and be at my parents’ place, in bed. I might be 32 but when I’m somewhere foreign and in a cloud of lethargy and illness, I still want  my step-father’s famous chicken soup. It’s tough to be hurt and far away from everything that is familiar. But it has made me more able to handle things that go wrong, and technology has enabled me to stay in contact with people (and/or get the “HOLY CRAP help what is this on my arm?” diagnoses from my stepsister, who is a doctor) even when I’m down.

13. Technology helps you meet people and connect others as you go, and keeps parents happy.

When I was in the Kuwait Airport, I tweeted that I had the hiccups during my 7-hour layover, resulting in some strange looks from other passengers. I had seen one, perhaps two, tourists in the prior hours and I thus stood out already. A few minutes after the tweet, a guy from Oregon came up and said “Hi, are you legalnomads?” He had searched Twitter for the airport code to see whether other travellers were tweeting nearby, saw me hiccuping compulsively in the corner and came over to introduce himself. I spent the remaining hours of my layover drinking coffee with his family and talking about social media.

Technology makes it easy to meet people ahead of time, get suggestions and generally forge a dialogue before crossing paths. I’ve gotten restaurant tips, weather warnings and more via Twitter, and made some great friends in the process. When I first arrived to Bangkok in 2010 after my time in Myanmar, there were tweetups galore on the heels of TEDxBKK. In just a few days, I had a wonderful group of newfound friends who could tell me where to eat and what they loved about the city. Of course, in the absence of technology, the tried and true “talking to someone else in your hostel at breakfast” works just as fine as it always did.

Technology also helps keep my family updated. I use a Google Voice number, Skype and email to keep them all in the loop. I’ll send photos of the smaller things, the tidbits of quotidien life they’re missing out on. “This soup was amazing!” or “here’s my new room!” They are mostly appreciative but sometimes less so – the time I sent a photo of the squat toilet in Mongolia was the first time my mother emailed to say “we want you to share, but please not the toilets.” SPOILSPORT.

14. The anxiety and nervousness of newness never goes away.

I want to stress this point because understandably people think that when you do something enough it become second nature, an instinctive machination. This might be true for general skills but for travel, I’ve found the rule does not apply. When I go somewhere new, I still get anxious. Before I left for Morocco this past fall, I was worrying about whether I would enjoy it, and whether I’d find it daunting. Having gotten very used to Asia, North Africa was as foreign to me as it would be to anyone else. It’s a fallacy that longer term travellers breeze through the world, comfortable anywhere. Part of what makes something like travel special is that it does push your comfort levels every time you step outside the familiar. In my case, even after 4 years, this hasn’t dissipated at all.

15. Packing does not get easier.

I wrote a piece on long term travel and the things it doesn’t fix. In it, I talked about how, 2.5 years into my travels, I still hated packing. It’s now 4 years into my travels. Guess what? I still hate packing.

16. Not planning too far ahead leaves you the flexibility to need to take the wonderful opportunities that come your way.

I get quite a few emails asking if I opted for a round-the-world ticket or whether I plan as I go. I’ve addressed this in the resources page but I want to reiterate it here because I think it’s important: don’t plan too far ahead. Over and above the undeniable fact that I thought I’d be back in North America by now (and not still travelling), so many of the places I loved beyond belief are the ones that weren’t even on my initial, vague itinerary. There’s nothing wrong with planning, or doing research, or even booking longer-haul flights if you have a set schedule to follow. But leave as much as you can to as-you-go travel. You’ll meet people who wax poetic about a specific destination and want to go there; you’ll decide you need – NEED! – to go to the Philippines with your brother because you’ve become fascinated by a small primate that you need to see in person; you will find yourself and your mind expanded by the sheer impossibility of everything being available to you, if only you could choose where to go first.

It is a scary thing, to leave it open to the whims of your brain as you travel, but a worthwhile one.

17. Portable chopsticks are your friend.

Two options, among many: with wood tips or without. These are great for camping, for eating on the go and for the times that you’re at a street stall and while the food is fresh and turnover great, the cutlery less so. A great fix is to carry your own portable utensils, clean and tiny enough to fit in your bag.

18. Never skimp on your underwear. You do not want them falling apart as you travel.

This is one of the more practical on this list, but really, people please - do not be skimping on the underwear. Let alone the trials of finding underwear that fits when sizing might differ from home (and/or materials might be less … comfortable), this is a basic you don’t want to regret – you’ll be wearing them every day, and they’d better be enjoyable. It’s worth spending a little more so that they don’t fall apart in a laundry machine 3 months down the road.

19. Cockroaches are, in fact, as universal as you feared.

I don’t mind them very much – as I said in my WDS speech, my friend Shannon was on spider-killing duty, whereas I had the cockroaches all to my own. But they’re not endearing either, and they are everywhere. You get used to the scuttling, scurrying, clickety sounds of cockroaches roaming around because you have no real choice. The good news is that they rarely, if ever, bite.*

Chiang Mai cockroaches make NY cockroaches look tiny.

*Ok, sometimes in the Philippines they bite but you can just pretend I didn’t say anything…

20. It doesn’t feel like work when you are doing what you love.

There is so much talk about finding your passion and doing what you love in life. It’s a tough discussion to have, in part because for many parents and grandparents, it seems an incredibly narcissistic thing to do. For prior generations, doing what made you ‘happy’ wasn’t as mainstream of an option because you were too busy doing what you had to do in life, and supporting families or communities. Those obligations still exist, but within the framework of how we live now, the ability to shift toward happiness has become a more accepted path. I’ve been fortunate enough to have quit my job to travel thinking I’d be returning to the practice of law, only to find that I loved the travel more than I thought possible. And so I’ve tried to build a business and a brand around doing what I love. My worst case scenario? Going back to being a lawyer. As ‘worst cases’ go, it’s not the end of the world.

Despite spending more time at a computer than I anticipated, it doesn’t feel like work the way that lawyering felt like work. It’s great to build something where the foundation remains what you love to do.

21.  Reverse culture shock doesn’t hit you less, you just get used to the feeling.

In my last post, I noted that the first time I went back to North America during these travels, I really felt the weight of the changes in me and the correlative disassociation with the place I used to call home. On later visits, I was able to see the reverse culture shock from a more objective place, knowing I would feel this way but being able to digest it more easily. However the underlying feeling – the shock to your system – doesn’t go away. It’s been comforting for me to know that other travellers feel this way too.

* * *

I know April 1 is April Fool’s Day for man, but for me the day has become a time for me to reflect on my travels. Though my family initially thought it might be a joke when I said I was leaving 1 April, they quickly realized I was actually just doing what I said I would do all along: see as much of the the world as I could by living it. While my initial inspiration was a PBS documentary on the Trans-Siberian trains, what followed was a mixture of learning, fascinating connections with far-flung places (and the people in them) and of course, food.

Four years! Hard to believe.

-Jodi

Practical Tips from 4 Years of Traveling The World is a post from: Legal Nomads

One of my favourites from Thailand: a tree at dusk near Doi Suthep, Chiang Mai

From one short article, our email exchanges sprawled outward into existential questions about life and happiness, about what home means and about the choices we each made to end up where we did. We finally capped off the communication when we realized we could go on for days – there was work to be done after all! While I tend to speak to these friends often, it was wonderful to take a much deeper look at our respective lives, and learn more about one another in the process.

So what did they say?

One friend noted that while some places are big enough to absorb memories and return to, others aren’t; the smaller places are indelibly tied to a memory or a former version of himself, impossible to recover. When he found himself in those smaller places again, it felt jarring, as though the prior iteration – the person he remembered –  was the one that should have reappeared. But of course people change, and intellectually he knows that is the case. Another saw his life as a series of Russian dolls, starting with a splash of colour and radiating outward, new dolls over the old, each representing a place lived, a lesson learned. “You are constantly out of your comfort zone” he noted “until you’re not.” Another friend said she stopped trying to understand why she felt homesick despite having no city or place that felt like home. It was only when she returned to North America and was asked to explain her choices that she panicked, quickly picking one of a few favourite cities to say “this is the place for me.”

On my end, I certainly do think we leave a part of us in each of the places we visit. There are repercussions to doing this with frequency, too – if you keep leaving parts of yourself around the world, what’s left to leave? And is there a way to go back eventually and collect all the pieces? Crispin acknowledges that there are advantages and repercussions to the yearning for elsewhere, trade-offs that are deeply personal to each of those who move. For me, they lie in the lack of stability and traditional societal goals: having one home, having a physical community around you that remains more or less the same. (I say physical because technology enables us all to have perpetually accessible communities.)  When I think of my friends at home, I do envy the consistency of their interaction. In turn, they envy my wandering. Grass is greener, and all that. But I suspect none of us would trade in the lives we’ve built for a different one.

As homesickness goes, when I think of these last years I feel wistful for nothing and everything, all at once. The good and the bad are each knotted together into a safety net, trapping anything that falls between. What stands out above all else is the perfect storm of moments when everything aligns – people you care about, helping others, a place you love, delicious food, learning learning – so much learning. If that’s not happiness, I don’t know what is. Perhaps it’s temporary, claiming that happiness as my own, but it happens often as I wander. As a result, I don’t have a wistfulness for a specific place or a specific person – though surely we each have memories that bring back those kinds of wistful feelings – but a more existential nostalgia for the confluence of Really Great Things.

* * *

I’m coming up on 4 years of travel. April 1, 2008 was the day I set off and if you had asked me then whether I’d be at it still, I’d have answered with a resounding no. This week, I ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen since 1998 who happened to be visiting Chiang Mai. He and I met in macroeconomics class and after graduation, we lost touch. How do you sum up almost 14 years of your life to someone who knew you just after high school? How do you frame the consequences of your choices when you don’t yet know where they will lead? In 1998, I hadn’t yet learned all these lessons about myself and the world, about adaptability and connection with others. Meeting this old friend brought all this and more to the forefront, sifting out what has truly changed in the intervening years and how my movement has moulded me.

My stories – the ones that I use to relate one situation to the next – are travel-related, and often coming from a completely different place than the norm. Cocktail hour at a party in London was testament to this; I struggled to make small talk when in my own mind half my stories started with “well, I was on the roof of this minivan with a goat…..?” or something similar.

These stories have changed me. Travel has changed me – which is not a guarantee. For some it doesn’t and there’s nothing wrong with that. And what travel is for me, learning a new language or skill might be for someone else. I acknowledge, too, that a good part of this metamorphosis is simply getting older.  But in reflecting on the last decade, I think that travel has been the primary driver of my change, and continues to give me perspective, to make me stronger and excited to live each day as fully as I can.

Overlooking Hong Kong, April 2010

People love to slot others into categories, neatly filing way their interaction into a rolodex of prior conversations and thoughts for safe-keeping. As someone who lives a life of in betweens, I struggle to define my life choices in a comprehensive way to those I meet on the road. For the people at home, the initial backlash from quitting my job to travel has been replaced by a complicated mixture of kudos and confusion, an unspoken hat tip that I’ve survived this long without A Plan For Everything. The locals I meet in Asia are similarly confounded, but much more vocal in their reasoning. Why would I leave a very good job just to come and eat street food with them? In the eyes of much more entrenched cultures with stricter gender roles, what I’m doing is startling. “Where is your husband?” remains the question of the day.

In this feedback loop from East to West, the contrasts between both worlds are more apparent. The first time I came home for a few weeks, the reverse culture shock sent me into a deep depression. In subsequent returns, the differences are less jarring and yet more sharply defined. I’ve become an observer to my own existence in a way that I never anticipated, musing about my own temporary discomfort before I settle into my skin once more. The things I love about Asia – the energetic chaos, the ability to slide in sideways and create a life for yourself at whatever level you choose, the food (oh the food…) occupy a space in my thoughts at all times. And as the pendulum swings back from one continent to the other, I am relieved to find that I can adjust more easily each time.

Home is New York, is Bangkok, is Montreal, is Beijing. I never thought of myself as a chameleon and yet here I am building myself a life premised on a talent for adaptability.

Coconut cinnamon smoothie from Pun Pun, Chiang Mai

Crispin writes:

“My idea of home, the home I am sick for, is a mysterious, shifting place. The real reason I am worried about this, though, is that there are still so many cities where I want to live. There are cultural tics I want to pick up as my own, and I want to reshape myself in small ways through my encounters with the cities.”

I see myself in this sentence. I’ve learned over the years that even the most foreign and unrelatable place can feel like home, faster than I ever thought possible. So much to see and do, and overwhelmingly less time to do it. I continue on my path, a teller of stories and an eater of food, a person who lives a life of in betweens.

* * *

I will put up a separate post on April 1 about practical lessons learned from years of travel, but this was my attempt at shedding light on the emotional component. I get many questions about loneliness and homesickness, about whether I regret the path I’ve chosen. I will say this: even when sick or tired or lonely or when I’ve failed, I feel thankful and I feel lucky. Disparate places and people and smiles are always within reach, the macro view unfurling over the thousands of small, beautiful connections that comprise these last 4 years.

The big picture plan, as it stands, is as vague as it was when I set out. It’s as vague as it was in 2010 when I wrote a piece about the things that travel doesn’t fix. It does get daunting at times and where it will take me, I have no idea. But that’s ok. As I said to one of my close friends, those of us from nowhere and everywhere, all at once, rarely know. Those in one place also rarely really know, but it’s easier to handle the many questions when you’ve got a structured sandbox to play in. Though we might not have a sandbox, we have an adaptability; we find strength in the mysterious in-betweenness that defines us.

What is a place, after all, but a confluence of people you care about and routines you enjoy? It could be anywhere. “Where” is actually irrelevant so long as your mind is open to new experiences and your heart is open to love.

-Jodi

On Homesickness and Long-Term Travel is a post from: Legal Nomads

First off: I can haz a logo.

Thanks to my friend Wes from Johnny Vagabond for putting it together for me. It’s simple, clean and matches the scripting on the sidebar. Also, it has lobster font – and we already know I love the lobster font.

Lobster Font's official mascot. No, I'm not kidding.

But back to the “why”…

Before I quit my job as a lawyer, I would aggregate “daily linkies,” a compendium of science, technology and other interesting online reads from my day. These were culled during long conference calls, and probably not what my employer had in mind whilst negotiating indemnities. Regardless, I still got my job done and managed to send out a few daily linkies before I left the office.

When I joined Twitter in late 2009, I started sharing those same links, but in real-time. The feed was (and continues to be) vaguely travel-related, with the majority of the postings a sprawling bucket of assorted nerditry to learn from. My business card has the word “curator” in my bio and while these days, curation is a very popular buzzword, I think it does hone in on what I’m trying to do. In a world of informational abundance, it’s great to sift through the noise and pull out the links that you want to learn from. And I love sharing them, too, as many people don’t want to do the sifting – but I do.

Maria Popova, one of the best curators out there, noted last year

“Ultimately, I see Twitter neither as a medium of broadcast, the way text is, nor as one of conversation, the way speech is, but rather as a medium of conversational direction and a discovery platform for the text and conversations that matter.”

When I say “sprawling bucket of assorted nerditry”, this is what I mean:

Oh xkcd, I do love you .... http://t.co/nanaZNMn

March 7, 2012 6:18 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Detailed data visualization of how the Kony2012 video went viral: http://t.co/o1llekDW

March 16, 2012 11:46 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Enjoying @berkun's new group blog on real-world implementations of design ideas: http://t.co/mInGVOJn

March 6, 2012 10:35 pm via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Beautiful bookstore in Maastricht, in a converted 13th century church. Love the photos: http://t.co/fC5KI6be

March 18, 2012 12:43 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

How a desire to learn can hurt productivity & tips to avoid falling into mental a rabbit hole: http://t.co/SKbNToG9

March 17, 2012 11:15 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Your weird tumblr of the day: "Cat Scientists of the 1960s" http://t.co/aYEjn3UI (via @borntotrek)

March 17, 2012 3:55 am via webReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Wired mag on how these magical long-exposure photos of fireflies went viral: http://t.co/reRU9Wj6

March 6, 2012 8:20 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Random funsies from @mcsweeneys: the implausibility of the Death Star’s trash compactor http://t.co/mFntSZMp (via @hriefs)

March 13, 2012 10:28 pm via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

"Everywhere we go, we have no idea what we're not seeing." Beautiful post from Robert Krulwich: http://t.co/sfTO4EZn

March 15, 2012 2:30 pm via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

It's a Maklouba-off! Legal Nomads reader Jeannie tries her own version after reading my recipe: http://t.co/HWSpL9Y1

March 17, 2012 6:23 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Getting up close & personal with lions, thanks to @willbl's BeetleCam: http://t.co/8EjNwSoI

March 16, 2012 2:01 pm via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

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Jodi Ettenberg

Ideally, I want to share those links to everyone, and not everyone is on Twitter.  And there are just too many “space is awesome” links to post on Twitter alone. But also, friends like Christine and Shannon and Michael all urged me to take these links and put them into a more digestible format.

Thus, Links I Loved, my Legal Nomads newsletter was born.

I’m going to start with a bi-weekly newsletter, perhaps moving it up to once a week if people enjoy it. I plan to divide it up into sections – photography that resonates, space is awesome, brainfood on the web, and others – with links that I hope will be interesting.

In addition, as my 4-year anniversary of departure approaches, I’ve maintained the same philosophy I started out with on Legal Nomads – namely that while I will occasionally hop on press trips and partner with companies I really respect and enjoy (e.g. my Wanderers in Residence gig with G Adventures), I have continued to decline advertising or sponsored links on this site.

What this means is that my income derives from revenue sources outside the blog, and I’d like to share those projects too – I’m proud of them! I’ve recently been hired as a contributing editor to Longreads.com, one of my favourite sites on the web, and I’ve been writing for the Hipmunk and other companies for quite some time. I’m looking forward to showcasing some of those outside sources, as well as recent press for the blog, in a section of Links I Loved.

Thank you, as always, for reading and I hope you enjoy this supplemental batch of Legal Nomad-ism. If you want to sign up for the newsletter, you can do so on the sidebar, on the Newsletter tab of the Legal Nomads fan page on Facebook or by clicking here.

-Jodi

Introducing “Links I Loved”, a Legal Nomads Newsletter is a post from: Legal Nomads

However, the city is shrouded in smog and walking around, even for just 10 minutes, leaves your eyes stinging and your throat raw. Those of us still wandering around town are doing so with masks on.  The March smog is actually nothing new – for years, people have talked about asthma issues in Chiang Mai during the pre-rain season. Last year it rained quite early, so the smog was minimal. So this is the first time I’ve experienced the smoggy, hazy late winter months in Northern Thailand.

Why so smoggy? Farmers in Northern Thailand burning the fields to allow for replanting and regrowth. In 2009, the Irawaddy noted that “The traditional rural method of slash-and-burn farming, whereby fields are burned by farmers in the dry season between February and April, so that the ashes fertilize the fields while they lie fallow, is responsible for the greater part of the pollution.” And they’re so bad in the far North that there is talk of evacuation near Mae Sai.

Chiang Mai smog at dawn, Feb 24, 2012

Can't see too far in this mess.

(Photos above, courtesy of Catherine from Women Learn Thai)

So why am I still here?

For starters, it’s not all sad faces – we even have fun in our smog masks.

Ana and me, jumping in the haze.

Plus, rain is forecasted for early this week, and it ought to dampen the fires, improving the air quality. If not, I’ll relocate to Bangkok. The irony of heading to Bangkok for “clean” air isn’t lost on me.

* * *

My time in Thailand thus far has also been full of reunions with close friends, visiting family members (like my adorable cousins below) and doing what I do best: eating.

My cousins, me and my friend Giorgio.

A little too excited to be eating Thai food again: I forgot to take the photo before we dug in.

What used to be pad pongali gai, a terrific dry yellow curry.

I didn’t forget the next time! Grilled chicken at a great Isaan place across from Chiang Mai University:

Grilled Chicken from 10000% Isaan in Chiang Mai

Somtam (green papaya salad, spicy, sweet and delicious):

Deliciously colourful salad

And the full meal:

Grilled chicken, somtam and tom yum goong.

There are plenty of less traditional dishes on offer, too – and I’m not talking pizza. At the Sunday night walking street, the temples lining Ratchadamneon are full of food stalls, including a great dim sum stand in Wat Sum Pow:

Steamed crab at the Sunday market in Chiang Mai

Steamed shumai at the Sunday market in Chiang Mai

And of course mochi for dessert!

Last week  on Ratchadamneon, I noticed people climbing up atop the moat to take photos of the market below. I tried prior to get up there but was shoo’d down by the policeman directing traffic. Not this time!

From atop the moat, looking down at the controlled chaos.

Atop the moat near Thae Phae gate

Peeking through from the moat itself

And the crowds below

In a time of haze, the city remains full of colour. My plan is to stay in Thailand until April just before Songkran, when I’ll be flying to Italy to speak about social media and curation at TBU Umbria. After that, it’s back to North America for more conferences (TBEX and WDS among them), family reunions and a road trip up the Western coast of the USA.

Taking suggestions, too, for this year’s birthday mountain! I’ve got a wedding in Montreal two days before, so the mountain has to be road-trippable from there.

Fun, busy months ahead!

-Jodi

Despite the Smog, Some Colourful Scenes in Chiang Mai is a post from: Legal Nomads

I should note that I’m a cat person. Am I cat-whisperer? Maybe not insofar as career choices go, but I do seem to be perpetually followed by cats. In Muang Ngoi, Laos, I would sit down to read on my bungalow’s porch and within minutes, a cat would deftly squeeze between book and knees. Daily, I’d wander to town for dinner and sit on a mat for some food. Seconds later, a feline (sometimes two) would push their way onto my lap, purring furiously. Wandering through Amman, I found myself stooping down to pet scraggly-looking cats, each materializing when I would stop to gather my bearings.

As if reading Robert Fisk weren't cumbersome enough without a cat on your lap? One of many cats in Laos.

In Istanbul, my cat-magnetism (catnetism?) reached higher levels. Walking outside my guesthouse, I was flanked by felines, to the amusement of the staff who wanted to know if I bathed in fish oil. Their suspicions deepened when I returned to my room after a day of wandering to find a cat sitting contentedly in my shower.

The cat-following was out of control.

Cat in my shower at Agora Guesthouse, Istanbul

It was a veritable cat factory, this city. Looking out my window, a green tarp was constantly covered in felines. No matter how many times I checked outside, a different set of cats (two, or three or more) would be gazing back at me, as if to say “what did you expect? We’re just hanging out.”

Cats in Sultanahmet, outside my guesthouse

The truth is, of course, that the city is awash in cats.  Many were well-fed and clean, and  almost all were affectionate. To be sure, the cats slimmed down and dirtied-up when I walked outside the busier zones of the city into the immigrant areas – parts of Fatih, for example. In those laundry-strewn, narrow streets the cats were more feral, more hungry and certainly less curious. But one constant remained: there were cats everywhere.

Why?

For starters, a predominantly Muslim society where cats are tolerated, even respected. Per an Associated Press article from August 2010, “Islamic lore tells of a cat thwarting a poisonous snake that had approached the Prophet Muhammad. In another tale, the prophet found his cat sleeping on the edge of his vest. Instead of shifting the cat, the prophet cut off the portion of the vest that was free and wore it without disturbing the pet.”

Looking through history books about Islam, many mention the prophet’s love of felines and while variations on the foregoing stories exist, the overarching affection for cats has been consistent.

My usual dinner companion for the kebap cart in Sultanahmet.

At the beginning of the introduction to Lorraine Chittock’s photography book Cats of Cairo, Annemarie Schimmel notes:

“When the British orientalist E. W. Lane lived in Cairo in the 1830′s, he was quite amazed to see, every afternoon, a great number of cats gathering in the garden of the High Court, where people would bring baskets full of food for them. He was told that in this way, the qadi (judge) fulfilled obligations dating back to the 13th-century rule of the Mamluk sultan al-Zahir Baybars. That cat-loving monarch had endowed a “cats’ garden” where the cats of Cairo would find everything they needed and liked. In the course of time, the place had been sold and resold, changed and rebuilt; yet the law required that the Sultan’s endowment should be honoured, and who better than the qadi to carry out the King’s will and take care of the cats?”

Park cat is pensive in Sultanahmet.

Indeed, a popular saying notes “If you kill a cat, you need to build a mosque to be forgiven by God.” As a result, wandering the streets of Istanbul you will see many small containers by the sides of buildings, and discreet food rations doled out by its inhabitants. While the cats are not adopted formally, they are taken care of by no one and everyone, a giant community network of cat caring. Even the World Basketball championships boasted a feline mascot, a blue-and-green eyed “Bascat” after the long-haired Turkish Van.

Sleeping cat at a shisha cafe in Istanbul

Unlike elsewhere in my travels, no one glared at me if I tried to feed then. I was the recipient of a big talking-to by a restaurant owner in Morocco; my feeding the strays would merely ensure that they returned time and time again. In contrast, when I went for chicken wings and couldn’t finish my plate, I tried to surreptitiously slip the cat underneath my chair a morsel of food. Seeing my furtiveness, the owner walked over and, a smile on his face, dropped the cat below a full drumstick to enjoy.

At a chicken wing stall near the old Spice Bazaar.

Of course, it’s not a purely idyllic life for the animals of Istanbul. As I already mentioned, walking the poorer parts of town will open your eyes to the less fortunate of  Istanbul’s strays. Catfights in the dead of night are quite common and there are problems with the sheer volume of the strays in town (unless they are spayed they will, of course, beget more cats). Furthermore, until 2004 there was no formal animal welfare law in place, and even with the current law (Animal Welfare Act No. 5199) offenders are only subject to fines. And as this article about dogs in Istanbul notes, canines are treated with much less affection and care.

Curious cat at the Blue Mosque, coming to say hello.

In positive news, however, just last month, Turkey introduced a new law that would make it a crime punishable by jail time to mistreat, torture or leave animals without food or water. The law is in its infancy right now, but those interested in supporting it can go and sign this online petition. It will be interesting to see how, if passed, the rule will be enforced.

Dismounting cat.

As for my trip, I met, petted and cuddled with many a cat during my weeks in Istanbul. As a celiac, I can’t eat wheat flour and breads in Turkey (and thus kepab sandwiches and shwarma sandwiches) were off limits. But the platters of meat were giant-sized and I couldn’t finish them off. Trying to communicate my allergy was laughably impossible, so I would instead order the sandwich, grab a fork – to the confusion of the restaurant’s staff – and eat only the meat and vegetables. But what to do with the meat-soaked bread? Why, give it to the cats, of course!

They were … confused.

Cats and bread: not the best combination.

From cats that look like dictators…..

Not the friendliest-looking of cats.

…to adorable kittens in boxes around town, the history of Istanbul is not complete without considering a feline presence and they are firmly wrapped up in my memories of the city.

Kepab cats in a box, Istanbul

Kepab cats in a box, the back view. These guys sat there each day, with the box safely stored at night and repositioned every morning.

As my guesthouse noted when I departed last month “we look forward to welcoming you back to Istanbul – and the cats will too.”

-Jodi

Why Are There So Many Cats in Istanbul? is a post from: Legal Nomads

So it was with Istanbul. Coming off a month of wide-eyed wandering in Morocco I found myself recoiling at the brashness and shiny edges of Turkey’s largest city.

Though Istanbul straddles Europe and Asia, my initial assessment observed a very European people. Women with their leather knee-high boots and fully made-up faces and upturned chins. The men, gruffly clad in black leather and walking a swagger I hadn’t seen in Morocco. And they were drinking beer. I felt more than ridiculous thinking these thoughts – surely a month in Morocco wasn’t enough to completely find the familiar unfamiliar? But apparently it was, a testament to the intensity of my time there.

* * *

As with any new place, it became comfortable within a few days. The leather and swagger and makeup and beer all seemed commonplace by the end of the week, and I wandered the streets in search of delicious eats with newfound gusto. But more than that, Istanbul became a place I started to miss before I already left. I was captivated by the cross-section of history and geography, finding myself entranced by everything from the simple patterns in the cobblestones to the spiderweb of fishing twine tumbling down from the Galata Bridge. I wandered the city for hours and hours each day, peeling away more of its layers.

Beneath Istanbul’s shiny surface was a confluence of ethnic neighbourhoods and food groups, of old creaky mosques and bustling back alley markets. I decided to start photographing the city through a pinhole, focusing in on the exact points of my wonder. The details are often what I find most compelling and it felt satisfying to use a new technique to portray them in a different way.

I’ll be posting more about Istanbul – its food, its people, the history of its many gorgeous sights. But as my introduction to the city, I wanted to share my pinhole photos. Curled edges of darkness and a blot of colour in the middle, Istanbul forcing its way to the forefront of my consciousness, even from afar.

Valens aqueduct in Fatih, Istanbul

Ayasofia, in all its pink glory

The interior of Ayasofia

Glowing lights inside the main dome

Ceiling frescos and Islamic calligraphy inside Ayasofia

Classic view of the main dome inside Ayasofiaa

View from the bottom level of the Galata Bridge

Inside my favourite Mosque in town, Rustem Pasha, near the Spice Bazaar

Shadows and light inside Rustem Pasha Mosque

Honey tones inside Suleymaniye Mosque

Suleymaniye mosque, from the ground level

Full view of the ceiling dome in Suleymaniye Mosque

Visitors outside Suleymaniye Mosque

Side view of Suleymaniye Mosque, devoid of people.

Blue Mosque at dusk, from a rooftop in Sultanahmet

Dizzying ceiling patterns inside the Blue Mosque

Inside the Blue Mosque

Lighter tones and delicate designs inside the Blue Mosque

On a Sultanahmet rooftop, gazing out at the Bosphorous

And on my last night in town, the two images that have etched themselves in my mind more firmly than all the rest:

Silhouettes of domes and minarets against a darkening sky

And the cobblestones of Istanbul, inviting me to continue my exploration.

For those interested in a pinhole shoot, there are a few ways to do so: a DIY version (definitely my pick), poking a hole inside your lenscap and shooting through it, or buying ready-made pinhole lenscaps (for the Micro 4/3ds crowd, PhotoJoJo’s got a 39$ option) for your pinthole photography funsies. The EP-3 also has a “pinhole” setting, which is what got me going on this route to begin with. Lots of fun to be had with any of these options.

-Jodi

Photoessay: Istanbul Through a Pinhole is a post from: Legal Nomads

 - Tahir Shaw, In Arabian Nights, pp 98

Spending time in Morocco is a study in contrasts, a confluence of old and new lives jumbled together, straining to move toward modernity while sustaining ancient traditions. The streets of villages around the Sahara, full of colourful jalabas and babies swaddled to the backs of their mothers as they go about their days, seems a world away from the luxury apartments of the bigger cities. And there’s no better place to see the confluence of those many worlds than in Marrakesh.

Like many big cities, arrival can be overwhelming – which is where this crash course comes in. While I love the narrative and photoessays (they are a pleasure to write and share) I also want to be a help for the people looking to travel to the places I love. To wit: where to stay, what to do and where to eat – hopefully they will help demystify the capital and leave more room for soaking it all in.

Where to Stay.

The quintessential question depending on who you are and how you travel. I stayed at several places during my time in Marrakesh, from apartments to hotels to hostels, and wanted to give an overview for those looking to spend time in the city.

You’re on a budget and you want to stay in the Medina. Riad Massin, all the way. I recommended this place to a bunch of different travelers, from Allen who wrote about the Himalayas here, to readers who wanted a budget stop in the heart of Marrakesh. My G Adventures roommate Danielle provided the photos below (thanks lady!) but I can attest firsthand that it’s a wonderful place to park yourself for a few days. You’ll meet fellow travelers, get a riad experience and be a short walk from the famous Djemaa el-Fna. Finding the place from the start may be your biggest deterrent to staying there, but it’s worth the runaround.

Address: 48 Derb Sidi Mohamed L’Haj, Bab Doukala, Medina, Marrakesh. ☎ (+212) 667 53 45 08

Birds eye view of living area Hostel Riad Massin

The all important bathroom!

If you’re not on a budget but you want to stay in the Medina: If you want to stay near the Fna and inside the walls of the mazelike old city, you can also go high end.  The place to do this? Riad Dixneuf La Ksour, impeccably decorated, clean, contemporary and with great service. Breakfast is included and it’s provided in your room – fresh orange juice, fresh tea, coffee or hot chocolate, homemade bread, crepes, Moroccan pancakes and homemade chocolate loaf with fresh jams and honey. Address: 19, rue Sidi El Yamani , Bab Ksour, Marrakech. ☎ (+212) 05 24 38 41 32

Poolside in Morocco.

Moroccan Breakfast in the Medina

If you want a hotel in the new (European) part of the city: Hotel Oudaya has two connected buildings, free WiFi, a big breakfast and a pool to call your own, this hotel was the last stop on the G Adventures trip I took but I’ve recommended it to several readers already, as it’s centrally located with a considerate and generous staff and lovely rooms. For $80 a night, you can get a cheaper place within the medina but if you want to be away from the bustle (and near a big supermarket and cheap restaurants), this is a good place to pick. It’s also within walking distance to the train station, which makes it quite convenient for the next hop through the country. Address: 147 Rue Mohamed El Baqal, Marrakesh, Morocco.☎ (+212) 4444 8512.

If you want to rent an apartment in town: I wanted to stay in the city for a few days after the G Adventures trip was over to process my photos before heading to the desert, and renting an apartment seemed like the best way to do so.  I looked into AirBnB but my friend Kim suggested Home Away, who offered me a media rate for renting in Gueliz for 5 nights. As I’m ridiculously picky about who I work with, I assure you I wouldn’t be mentioning them here were it not a product I really enjoyed. As home offices go, however? I had no complaints at all.

My 'office' for 5 days in Marrakesh

The apartment was a 40-minute walk to the main square, but a quick stroll to the train station and supermarket. I reviewed the apartment glowingly on Home Away’s site despite the fact that I wasn’t requested to do so – it ended up being a perfect place to stay. The owners (unaware they would be written up here) would ring daily to make sure I was enjoying my stay. Upon my departure, they invited me to stay with them in France if I returned for a visit.

The apartment rate included daily cleaning, a SIM card and phone, WiFi and a manager named Aziz who ended up arranging for a car rental and transfer to the train station after the contract was over. While not the most budget of all options for solo travelers, it was lovely to have a full kitchen and place to call my own or a week. It was the first time I’d thought about shorter-term apartment rentals, but it won’t be the last. And the Moroccan-style decorations made it a cosy and comfortable place to come home to after the chaos of the city during the day.

Address: Résidence Nadia, Apt 17, 22 Rue Moulay Ali, Marrakesh, Morocc0 .☎ (+212)6 61 74 35 20

Beautiful detailing in the apartment

What to Do.

Saadian Tombs: Dating from the 16^th century, these tombs were sealed by Moulay Ismail in the 17^th century when he decided to built Meknes as the next imperial city. Left to memory during the length of his reign, they were only rediscovered during an aerial survey conducted by France in the early 20th century. With separate tombs for men, women and children, each surrounded by cascading patterns of colourful tiles and ornately carved wooden arches, it’s a beautiful place to spend part of your day. Address: Probably best to head over to Google Maps for proper directions to the tombs.

Kittens at the Saadian Tombs

El Badi Palace: Also dating from the Saadian times, this palace was replete with treasures and reflected in prose as one of the most beautiful palaces in the world. With the main riches removed by Moulay Ismail in his shift to Meknes, the palace is only an echo of its former glory. However, the architecture and sheer size of the palace make for a good use of your time in Marrakesh. Address: Google Maps has the exact location here.

Ben Youssef Madrasa: Built by the Merenids in the 14^th century, the Medrasa remains one of the oldest places to study in the country. With dizzyingly complex carvings of wood and marble and geometric tiling on the walls, floors and ceilings, it’s well worth a wander.  Address: Google Maps has the exact location here.

The Medina: Get lost in the medina itself, the sprawling old city that will ensure that even the most seasoned of travelers will get lost. With dead ends, narrow alleys and doorways and a knack for putting you right back where you started (and not where you wanted to be), you’ll need to allocate quite a few hours to this endeavour – and a lot of patience.

Spices aplenty in the Medina

A quiet alleyway in the Medina

Djemaa el-Fna: A centerpoint for exploring the medina and surrounding souks, the Fna becomes the epicenter for movement and fun in the evening.  wrote a whole post about the wonder and awe at sitting and staring at the maelstrom of movement as dusk approached. It’s not to be missed.

“In Marrakesh, night falls in the blink of an eye.” – Tahir Shaw, In Arabian Nights, pp 104

Souks:  From the Djemaa el Fna, the souks spread outwards in spokes, sections at the front devoted to the main tourist wares and in the maze of back alleys, specific sections for each craft. Metalworks, wood carving, tanneries, shoe cobblers – each with its own set of streets and craftsmen.  Bargaining is the name of the game, with the aim being to feign the most successfully authentic indifference, as though the piece you want is something you really, truly couldn’t care less about.

Saffron from Morocco, up close and personal.

Shoes for sale in the Medina

Majorelle Gardens: Created in the early 1900s, these botanical gardens are now owned by Yves St. Laurent, replete with blue buildings and elaborate cactuses. Hundreds of different plants, flowers and succulents abound. For some respite from the crowds and bustle of the medina, this is a great place to pick up a book and relax. There is a 40 dirham ($5) entry fee, but if you’re in need of solitude, you’ll be happy to pay the price. Over and above the entry, there is a 15 dirham ($2) fee to stroll through St. Laurent’s former villa, now used to house a rotating collection of Moroccan art. Address: Google Maps has the exact location here.Koutoubia Mosque: The largest mosque in Marrakesh, the Koutoubia mosque looms over the Djemaa el-Fna (and provides a good landmark when spinning around in circles among the crowds, lost). The minaret was completed in the late 1100s, and is close to 230 feet high. At dusk, the call to prayer richochets off the alleys of the Medina and the increasingly busy Fna, providing one of the more wondrous welcomings of nighttime. Address: Find the Fna. You can’t miss the mosque when you do!Koutoubia mosque, in downtown Marrakesh”][/caption]

Where to Eat.

La Nouvelle Sirene: Newly opened near the apartment in Gueliz, La Nouvelle Sirene makes traditional Moroccan food with a French twist. The owner hails from Montpellier, France but his chef is Moroccan and their food reflects both strong personalities. The meat and prune tagine, below, was from his restaurant. Address: 35, rue de Yougoslavie, Gueliz

Beef, prune and almond tagine at Cafe Sirene

Sandwich Toubkal: Beyond the fact that I went back here so many times the staff started giving me free food, I found this tiny snack shoppe a comforting, down to earth presence in glitzy Gueliz. Manned by two waiters, one old and one young, the food is the basic Moroccan fare: tagines, couscous Fridays, sandwiches with fries and harira soups. But what sets this restaurant apart is the wide smiles you get when you walk in and the fact that you always know you’ll have a reasonably priced meal in the middle of the European part of the city. Address: Zerktouni, near the corner of Rue Mohamed El Baqqal, Gueliz. Across the street from Hotel Tachfine.

Stall 32 and Stall 14 (of the juice stalls) at the Djemaa el-Fna: There are a dizzying amount of stalls to choose from, and they will all be calling you over, trying to take you by the arm, even. Cajoling, and smiling, eventually turning sour when it becomes clear you’re not going eat their meals. Why? Becauase you’re going to make a beeline for Stall 32 and get perfectly grilled lamb sausage and harira soup, stuffed like a sardine around a rickety, u-shaped picnic bench. Seriously. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Get straight to Stall 32.

If you’re still thirsty after dinner, Stall 14′s orange/grapefruit cocktail was one of the few that didn’t add sugar to sweeten the juice. The fruit spoke for itself. (Note that for the juice stalls, these are separate, set aside from the long tables of food. I’m recommending Stall 14 in juice numbers, not food numbers.)

Snacks inside the Medina: An ideal way to eat your way through Marrakesh is to literally eat as you walk, picking up some of the many sweets on offer as you wind through the old city. Macaroons, pastries and pistachio treats abound, cheap and delicious. You’ll find it hard to resist.

Sweets in the Medina

Moroccan Macaroons - the perfect afternoon snack

This is but a small insight into the wonderful month I had in Morocco, but together with the incredibly insane driving, copious eating of tagines and spending time with cats (there are a lot of cats in Morocco my friends. A lot of cats….) I hope it paints a picture of excited exploration, which is exactly what I felt waking up every day to see what it had to offer.

-Jodi

Crash Course Marrakesh: Stay, Do, Eat is a post from: Legal Nomads