Despite being the second most sparsely populated country on the planet, Namibia is adventurously drivable, intensely beautiful, and perhaps even a bit luxurious.

That’s the gist of a recent travel article in the Guardian, which recounts a 12-day loop trip through the south of the country. Though the roads vary from fresh asphalt to what the author describes as “boulders,” the route is liberally stocked with guest lodges, ranging from sleeping bags under the stars to Swiss-trained chefs.

And of course, throughout the country you’re faced with extraordinary landscapes (like the Fish River Canyon) and unique African desert wildlife.

The author of this piece, though charged with the driving, went with a guide for an all-inclusive price of roughly $3,700 per person. TheExpeditioner.com would love to hear from someone who’s done it independently. Leave a comment if you have!

* Photo by geoftheref

The reign of Chinglish, the inaccurate public displays of translations, and the source of enjoyment for visitors to China, may soon come to an end in Shanghai. Although you can decipher the message in almost all cases, the numerous files of digital photos telling you to, “leave your values at the front desk,” may be a thing of the past.

The BBC reports the city has assembled a volunteer task force to seek out these baffling signs all over the city for correcting. Why? A similar successful campaign was conducted before the Olympics in Beijing. Since Shanghai is hosting the World Expo fair soon, I’m sure city officials have noticed Beijing’s lead, and want to tighten up their image a little bit, as well.

I can’t help but pull up the few quirky pictures of Asian signs I have stored in the bowels of my laptop, Chinglish, Konglish, and a few other hybrid dialects, it doesn’t matter. In between smirks, the memories of all my great experiences in that country reemerge. It makes me wonder if the existence of Chinglish isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

*photo by Augapfel

It’s been three years since the Lonely Planet Micronations hit the shelves. Assuming this one isn’t sitting on your shelf (it’s not on mine); I wondered where I had to go to say I’ve visited one of these pint sized nations. At any given time, there are numerous of these found all over the world. Perhaps, I’ve already visited one without even knowing.

Typically unknown to anyone other than the eccentric founders, and even less in the general public, Smithsonian.com lists a handful of these interesting spots around the globe and why they’ve been created.

Whether those reasons are a way to promote business, like the Maritime Republic of Eastport (a peninsula in Chesapeake Bay), political stands as in the Principality of Hutt River (western Australia), an idealistic counterculture like Cristiania (Copenhagen, Denmark and pictured above), or out of simple teenage boredom, each of these destinations have a unique story, if nothing else.

That is, except for the Sovereign Nation of Jon Wick.

I’ll admit, I have pretty good luck when it comes to flying. While my suitcase is usually among the last to pop out on the baggage claim carousel, I’ve never had one go missing. And despite averaging around 10 flights per year, seldom are they delayed, let alone canceled.

But I know I’m in the minority. I hear horror stories from friends and family about sitting grounded on the tarmac for five hours or seeing a flight scrapped and having to sleep in the airport overnight.

These problems will never go away, but they may have just gotten a little easier to avoid, according to a NYTimes blog post detailing a new app called FlightCaster. By crunching numbers from a decade’s worth of historical flight records and forecasts from the National Weather Service, FlightCaster claims to be able to predict flight delays up to six hours prior to their scheduled takeoff.

That is, it can send you a heads-up before you actually leave the house for the airport. Not too shabby.

The web version of FlightCaster is free to use, and they offer apps for your iPhone and Blackberry that run $4.99.

Happy flying!

* Photo by TheeErin

Wandering the labyrinth of streets that makes up Hanoi’s Old Quarter district, by no other skill than dumb luck, I found myself on Hang Hanh Street, in other words, “Coffee Street.” I claim not to be a connoisseur in the way of the bean, but have always appreciated a quality cup of Joe, so the racks upon racks of coffee caught my eye.

I quickly accepted the shop keeper’s invitation to sample, what he called, “Weasel Coffee.” What met my lips was nearly heaven in coffee form; an effortless combination of richness and smooth flavor.

As if he made sure I had one drink under my belt, he placed a sheet of paper on the table explaining the coffee’s back story. As the name suggests, this coffee is eaten, and consequently regurgitated by rare Vietnamese weasels. According to a Vietnam travel guide, there is no explanation as to why the “evacuation” happens, but it is known the gastric process of the weasels alter the beans to provide a vastly unique and superior taste.

Thankfully, the process is now done through synthetic means, but the history of the cup is definitely worth noting. Perhaps with the newfound caffeine fix, you can try taking on the nearly ten million motorbikes on the roads of Vietnam. I decided not to, mainly because my backpack was exploding with newly purchased weasel coffee, and that would surely effect my mobility.

Welcome to the Southern Hemisphere, Matt!

As our fearless Expeditioner was kind enough to mention yesterday, my name is Hal and I’m currently calling Buenos Aires home. To be honest, it doesn’t feel quite like home yet, as I’ve only been in the BsAs a total of 6 nights so far. I’m still seeing everything through a traveler’s eyes, not a porteño’s.

From that perspective, I thought I’d tackle what perhaps is the most widespread rumor about Argentina — the steaks here are the best in the world. I’ve had plenty (I spent a month in Patagonia before arriving in the capital) and, though I wouldn’t call myself a meat-lover by any stretch, I can confirm that Argentine beef is top-notch.

But why? The answer, apparently, lies in what may be the most iconic geographical feature of the country: the pampas. These rolling grasslands covering more than 600,000 square kilometers of Argentina’s interior are perfect for one thing and one thing only — yup, cattle grazing. What that means is the vast majority of Argentine cattle are fed not in cramped, hormone-enriched feedlots but out on the open plains. Not surprisingly, happier and healthier cows make for tastier and healthier beef.

To top it off, local beef is cheap. Argentines pay just $1.65 per kg for their meat, compared to $2.86 in the U.S., according to a recent article in the People’s Daily Online. And remember, that’s for a product of much higher quality. Is it any wonder diners here put away a whopping 70 kg of beef per year?

So there you have the skinny on Argentine beef. Hungry?

* Photo by audrey_sel

Greetings to all in TheExpeditioner nation! I’m excited to dive in here. Let’s wish Matt safe travels and kudos to him for the Hollywood-ready headshots of Hal and I in his last post.

Recently, I’ve had the opportunity to see two of the twenty-eight finalists (Jeju Island, Korea and Halong Bay, Vietnam) which are currently being voted on for the seven avaliable slots, as the “New 7 Natural Wonders of the World.” Riding the coattails of the success of the 2007 campaign distinguishing the new “7 Man Made Wonders of the World,” the site expects to have up to a billion votes creating a deeper appreciation for the sites found all over the globe.

Whittled down from seventy-seven original possibilities, the remaining still contain the usual suspects, Grand Canyon, Mt. Kilimanjaro (pictured above), Angel Falls, Great Barrier Reef. Joining these are some lesser known, yet equally stunning places such as India’s Sundarbans, Lebanon’s Jeita Grotto, Germany’s Black Forest, and several others. A full list and information on each can be found here.

It must have been quite an undertaking narrowing down everything on earth to a clear and concise list; I’ve had many a discussion regarding some glaring omissions (Mt. Everest or Niagara Falls rings a bell). When all debates are said and done, it’s great to see this kind of excitement surround so many of the world’s wonderful destinations. 

Since I’ve only visited three of these to date, I can’t help but see myself in twenty-five more cheezy jump pictures, with each of the possible winners as my background (did someone say “round the world ticket?”).

Maybe secluded bays and pristine beaches aren’t the first things that pop into people’s head when they think of Colombia, but a trip to Colombia’s Caribbean coast reveals just that. And the best part? No tourists.

By Matt Stabile

AS I LOOKED OUT THE BUS WINDOW AND INTO THE NIGHT SKY, I could see flashes of lightning igniting the dark, colorless clouds lingering high above the Caribbean Sea, portensions of things to come. It was Friday night. Cumbia music was blasting from a radio hanging by a wire above the driver’s head. Behind me a teenage girl was meticulously applying makeup with the aid of a small compact mirror. Two seats in front of me, a group of young Colombian men were drinking from an open bottle and joking around with each other. I peeled my shirt away from my chest, damp from a combination of a slight drizzle and the tropical humidity that had blanketed my body the moment I stepped off the plane, and I couldn’t have been happier. I had traveled here to Colombia’s Caribbean coastline to visit its famously beautiful and remote beaches — beaches whose mythic-like images were planted enticingly in my mind by travelers during cold, rainy nights in Bogotá hostels and Medellín cafes; usually described in hushed tones, like the disclosure of the whereabouts of a lost city that few had seen.

It was only fitting that the rain began to fall the minute that I stepped off the plane. At first it was a light drizzle, but as the hours wore on, the rain progressed into what I would soon learn was an once-in-a-decade “weather phenomena” that, during the course of my stay along the coastline, would cause rivers to overflow, shantytowns to flood, city streets to become deluged and hidden beneath torrents of water flowing from the nearby mountains, and for me to seriously question what vendetta had I with the gods that was causing this storm to strike during the exact period of time that I was staying there.

The good thing about rain, particularly the kind that falls in the warm, humid months of November and December here, is that it’s still far better to be caught in than, say, a snowstorm in the icy, frigid streets back in New York where, had I been at that exact moment, I would certainly not be wandering around in a pair of swimming trunks and sandals, stopping into various shops, and lounging on the beach with a concoction of freshly squeezed coconut and orange juice served in a plastic mug shaped like a coconut shell.

“When do you think it ends?” I asked a bored barista the next morning, shortly after I had ordered my third straight cup of coffee. (more…)

Into Africa

This morning, as a stepped out of the shower, I noticed that for the first time in quite a while, I didn’t immediately start sweating profusely as a result of the oppressive humidity that usually blankets New York City in August, which only means one thing: summer is officially coming to a close. (I also noticed for the first time that my neighbors in the nearby 11-story apartment complex, who have a clear view into my bathroom window, like to eat breakfast out on their patio in the morning, something I should remember next time I hop in the shower.)

Here at TheExpeditioner.com we like to celebrate holidays, momentous occasions, and the closing of seasons in the best possible fashion: hitting the road. In this case, the road being a 15-hour flight to South Africa, where, as you can see from the above map, I hope to try out my brand new $30 hiking shoes and spiffy Nikon D40 SLR camera in two of Southern Africa’s best known national parks: Kruger and Chobe. (Videos, articles, and much debriefing to come in the coming weeks/months).

Exciting News

Given the high unlikelihood of much, if any, internet access over the next 15 days or so, I’ve enlisted the help of two former TheExpeditioner.com contributors, one of whom, Jon Wick, I’m pleased to announce, has graciously accepted the title of “Contributing Editor,” and will be posting his own thoughts, recitations, and insights about travel for the foreseeable future on the site (or at least until he decides that he doesn’t want to anymore).

Further, Hal Amen, of Matador Trips fame, has also volunteered to contribute posts of his own for at least the time that I’m away. This while he’s not sipping lattes at outdoor cafes and partying to 6 a.m. in his new Buenos Aires neighborhood.

For a little info about both Jon and Hal, please see their short bios and Hollywood-like head shots below.

Until Then . . .

As for me, I’ll be posting again regularly when I get back on the 14th. Also, by the magic of the newfangled world-wide-internet, I will also be publishing a couple of feature stories from my trip to Colombia over the next two weeks. I know I’ve exceeded the suggested length for online articles by about 10X in both of the pieces, so I apologize ahead of time.

“For Africa to me . . . is more than a glamorous fact. It is a historical truth. No man can know where he is going unless he knows exactly where he has been and exactly how he arrived at his present place.”

Maya Angelou (American Poet, b.1928)

* * *

Jon Wick

I’ve been approaching the age of 30 all my life, but on my 27th birthday I stole a page from the movie “The Bucket List” and decided to create my own, making an effort at achieve one thing a year, for the rest of my life. That has taken me to all but seven of the states, up the flanks of Mt. Rainier, to the strings of hand-me-down guitars, and to Korea, where I am finishing up a year of teaching English and traveling whenever possible.

When I’m not forcing myself to eat Kimchi or quarantined for possible H1N1, I call the mountains of Montana home. I have taught elementary school in Big Sky Country for four years before setting off for Asia. Throughout my travels, I’ve been compiling a list of the “Top 5 Places I’ve Eaten Lunch.” They currently are, in no particular order: a sea cave in the Apostle Islands in Lake Superior, any square meter along Boracay’s white sand beach in the Philippines, a narrow canyon along the White Rim Trail in Canyonlands National Park, aboard a junk boat in Vietnam’s Halong Bay, and at Camp Muir on Mt. Rainier.

I look forward to joining TheExpeditioner.com team and searching for more places to add to my list!

Hal Amen

Hal Amen has spent 2009 bouncing between volunteer organizations, Spanish classes, and street food stalls in South America, during which his favorite trip by far was a tour of Bolivia’s Salar de Uyuni and the summiting of the 19,400-foot volcano Licancabur.

His last nonprofit gig wrapped up in August, and he’s closing out the year in Buenos Aires, where he’ll be on the constant lookout for drip coffee and meals that don’t feature half a cow (good luck with that). A freelance educational writer, Hal also co-edits the travel site Matador Trips and has contributed to TheExpeditioner.com in the past. He’s psyched to be on board, even if it’s only until Matt (hopefully) returns.

Holly Morris of Globe Trekker (whose mother wrote the biography that “Brian’s Song” was based) treks out into the deserts of Niger to track down one of the continent’s few remaining traveling caravans.

I like how at 2:11 when Holly and her film crew finally come upon the caravan after God knows how long of searching, the camel-laden group keeps nonchalantly continuing on, as if saying: “I don’t care who you are, do you see this desert? Do you realize how much further we have to go?”

Future TheExpeditioner.com contributor (more on that later this week) Jon Wick takes a look at the ups and downs of packing up your bags and heading abroad to teach ESL (English as a Second Language), an unforgettable experience full of heightened expectations, numerous frustrations, and personal rewards you’re unlikely to encounter anywhere else.

Oh yeah, you’re also forced to travel to a new and exciting location where free time is spent learning the local culture and exploring the region. When’s the last time your cubicle did that for you?

Perhaps the world’s most beautiful, partially collapsed island in the world, Santorini is the only inhabited caldera in the world, and for some reason, known the world over for their immaculate sunsets. So popular are the sunsets that every twilight, hundreds of people gather to watch the sun dip below the horizon, a ritual that surely has gone back thousands of years.

Maybe it has to do with the water, or perhaps some sort of volcanic-related fumes emanating from the island, but my guess is that little things, like sunsets, just look better when lounging on a hilltop perch on a Greek island.

As the Independent describes:

Santorini sunsets, viewed from the caldera, are said to be among the most beautiful in the world – a glorious explosion of color. The horizon glows, the cliff face lights up in a wash of pinks and purples, and the whole of the sea and sky seem to catch fire, melting into layers of crimson and liquid gold.

Who needs a tour guide when you have friends like these? Angkor Wat with a little help from the local police.

By Paige Stringer

My first glimpse of Angkor Wat came from the back seat of a Cambodian police officer’s motorbike.

It all started with an early evening arrival in Siem Reap. After checking in to my hotel, I referred to my guidebook which suggested that sunset at Angkor Wat was a visual experience not to be missed. Curiosity piqued, I checked the clock, noted the dying sun and decided to quickly walk the five kilometers from my hotel to the temples.

It soon became clear that walking the distance was not the safest idea for a woman traveling alone. Beyond Siem Reap’s city limits, the road turns gritty. Overgrown vegetation, dense banyan trees, and the flickering light of squatters’ campfires replace the shiny veneer of the tourist capital. I picked up my pace and made the mental note to find a tuk-tuk for the return trip back to town.

Suddenly, a Cambodian police officer stepped out of the woods, blocking the path in front of me, and hollered in a thick accent, “Stop! Stop! Stop right away!” (more…)