By Alexandra Bregman

It is fitting that I would struggle to write an article about Israel. Like this article, Israeli convictions (and territories) often waver on shaky, polarized ground when it comes to the spiritual and the political. I recently returned from my Birthright trip to Israel, and after many questions from friends and family (the most common being: “Did you love it?”), I hope I have finally summed up my personal account. And it is just that, my own personal account, my own perspective, one that is likely not shared by many others. If nothing else, my trip to Israel revealed the value of a cultivated and unique identity.

If you know any young, American Jews, you’ve probably heard of Birthright (or Taglit in Hebrew). Birthright is an organization that funds ten-day tours through Israel for predominately North American 18- to 26-year-olds. (However, my travel mates and I did meet our fair share of Australian, French, and Russian Jews as well). Thousands make the pilgrimage during the summer and winter seasons, and it is completely free of charge, save a $250 deposit that is eventually returned. I still hardly believe such a travel gift exists. Where else can you travel for zero dollars? (more…)

Sometimes, in Sri Lanka, the best train is the one you miss (and the one you miss after that).

By Barnaby Davies

“The train officially leaves at 10.30 a.m., but it will be late.” Nimal, the manager of Wathsala River View Inn in Dalhousie, beams knowledgeably. “It is always late,” he adds. In the background, Adam’s Peak, an important pilgrimage site, looms imposingly at 7,360 feet. The air is clear and tranquil this morning, punctuated only by the roar of the river and the thwack of a cricket bat on the main road.

At 9.05 a.m., the 9:15 a.m. bus service to Hatton station sails past. Then a passing tuk-tuk slows, offering to catch up with the bus for an inflated fee. Round the next bend — a distance of no more than 300 yards — the bus is taking a ten-minute break. But it is not a direct service to Hatton, this bus is actually only going to Maskeliya. In the dusty square that passes for this town’s center, time is ticking towards my train’s departure time, and there is little evidence of an onward bus.

I nonchalantly approach another tuk-tuk driver, as though haste is the furthest thing from my mind. This keeps the price down, but the quoted sum is 20 times more expensive than the bus. Still, it is very reasonable for a 12-mile journey through stunning tea plantation scenery, stopping briefly for photographs whenever I like. One notable idiosyncrasy of tropical transportation, however, is that tuk-tuks tend to contain little fuel until a customer needs a ride. As we fill up in the garage, a Hatton bus — with many open seats, no less — drives past, enveloping us in a cloud of black exhaust. (more…)

Jirisan, one of South Korea’s highest mountains, is a favorite hike in the country. But come prepared, it’s not as easy as you’d hoped.

By Andrew Post

Jirisan, the highest mountain in continental South Korea, is a 6,284-foot-high pile of rocks, trees, rivers, bushes, flowers, black bears, Buddhists and backpackers, located on the western fringe of Gyeongsangnam-do Province, in the national park of the same name.

Though not the intimidatingly tall Hindu Kush mountain range, Jirisan and its neighbors are still a tall order. These mountains comprise the southern tip of the Sobaek Range, running the length of both Koreas. They isolated the southwestern Korean provinces for millennia. The range is deceptively rugged. In winter, harsh winds scour the rock-strewn ridgelines. In summer, temperatures can shoot into the 90-degree-Fahrenheit range, with humidity to match. Some slopes are nearly vertical. Potable springs are miles apart. Coming to this wilderness unprepared is a recipe for disaster. Arriving over-prepared and late is even sillier.

Jirisan was only a two-hour bus ride from my home base on Geoje Island, south of Busan. So, one May evening, my friend Jeff and I — both ex-pat English teachers — scored some bad pizza, installed ourselves in my festering apartment, fetched up a map of the park, and began to plot a hike. (more…)

It was either Kierkegaard or Elvis Costello that once said, “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture — it’s a really stupid thing to want to do.”

Perhaps the same could be said of writing about India, a country so vast and diverse that no words could do it justice. With that in mind, it almost makes more sense to describe the country though pictures, as acclaimed photographer Gabriel Herman did on her recent two-week trek to India, which included stops in Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, and Goa.

By Gabriela Herman

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For some, the sight of black ravens circling above — clearly a bad omen — would cause them to leave and never come back. For Jonathan Campion, it inspired him to come back, this time after he learned everything he could about one of Kiev’s most storied cathedrals.

By Jonathan Campion

Ukraine is nobody’s paradise, but nor should it be dismissed as colorless or uninspiring, as many of its visitors do. Northwest of the central part of Kiev there is a district called Lukyanivska, where I lived for a year soon after arriving in the city. From the balcony of my apartment I could see the onion-shaped golden domes of a Russian Orthodox Cathedral in the distance. I never visited it until, returning to my old neighborhood one winter morning, another sight of the domes through a gap in some buildings peaked my curiosity.

Shuffling to and from Lukyanivska’s frosty streets in search of an entrance, I come upon a pink arch at the end of a lane called pereulok Bekhterevsky, beyond which an icy path leads into a small, rectangular courtyard right underneath the cathedral.

To the left of the courtyard as you enter through the arch stands the cathedral, painted the color of pistachio ice cream, with a golden dome on each of its 15 light-blue cupolas. It is so tall that to see its domes from the middle of the courtyard you have to bend your back as well as your neck. The map in the window of the information kiosk in the corner of the courtyard tells me that it is Nikolaevsky Cathedral. Opposite the cathedral — on the right of the courtyard — is the Pokrovsky Monastery. It is a lower, longer building, painted pink and white and decorated with ten dark green cupolas, each with a golden cross on top.

There is an icon of the Virgin Mary above the front entrance. She has seven angels beside her and is holding a white cloth in both hands: the monastery’s name means “Protection of the Virgin,” an important Orthodox festival; pokrov is the Russian word for “shroud.”

Although located in the middle of Kiev, the cathedral’s grounds are calm. They are secluded from the city on the north side by two blocks of apartments, to the east and south by tall trees, and to the west by a ravine. The grounds take up about 400 square feet, with several more icy paths leading away from the courtyard. (more…)

What does one do when thrust into the unexpected situation of teaching a class of 57 children in the capital of the Philippines? Why, sing, of course.

By Carl Thompson

A trip to the Philippines is always an education, but this time I’d planned on taking things easy. Rather than sail out into the wilderness and explore some of the 7,000-plus islands that make up the archipelago, the idea was simply to stay put in the capital, visit some friends, grab a few bargains in the vast malls and generally avoid the unusually harsh European winter.

It isn’t long, however, before I’m tempted out of my 35th-floor hideaway in the grandly named Global City district of Manila (once the site of a vast American military base called Fort Bonifacio, today it is an upmarket assemblage of corporate skyscrapers, plush apartments and overpriced restaurants) and into the altogether wilder environs of neighboring Taguig.

I hand the taxi driver a piece of paper with the scrawled address of the Captain Jose Cardones Elementary School — where I’m meeting a friend — and he assures me he knows exactly where to go. Soon he’s stopping every few minutes, thrusting the note at every other pedestrian, “just to check, sir.” Meanwhile I sit helplessly in the back, watching the meter tick up and wondering why I still fall for this trick after so many years. (more…)

Grab the kids and gather ’round the computer. TheExpeditioner.com takes a look at some of the strangest dishes in Asia.

By Justin Calderon

While one of the highlights of travel is the opportunity to sample dishes and flavors that you’ve never had before, it’s inevitable that you’re going to run into something that, well, despite your open mind and adventurous spirit, still causes you to pause and think, “Do I really want to eat this?” This happens perhaps nowhere more so than in Asia, where those of us from the West are taken aback when suddenly confronted with the prospect of snacking on fried insects or the delicate parts of male animals.

However, in the interest of cultural relativism, I can’t help to think that certain items found in our own fast-food restaurants and consumed every day in the West probably (and perhaps rightly so) elicit the same reaction in many parts of the world as our own when we think about wolfing down a bag of fried insects. Throughout my own travels in Asia I have rarely turned down the chance to taste something new, no matter how strange it seemed, and I wouldn’t have done it any other way. With that in mind, I present to you the top 10 strangest dishes in Asia.

10. Bamboo Worms — Bangkok, Thailand

This fried snack, usually sold out of mobile food stalls on the streets of Bangkok, isn’t as bad as it sounds (or looks). These crispy cretins, once deep fried, taste eerily similar to French fries. If you don’t look at their beady eyes and stubby, shriveled-up feet, this bag of oily delight could easily pass for a salty snack at any American burger joint. In fact, insect carts throughout Bangkok carry a wide variety of deep-fried arthropods, including locusts, beetles and moth chrysalides, and are common late-night drunken munchies. Of all the items on this list, bamboo worms are probably the only one that I actually enjoyed. Go figure.

9. Boiled Duck Head — Shanghai, China

The rung-out duck necks lassoed around steel shower poles that greet guests in Chinese restaurants are synonymous with Chinatowns across the globe, and are ubiquitous in interior China in one form or another. On the streets of Shanghai’s French Concession, it’s not uncommon to see duck heads devoid of body, staring vacantly through punched-out eye sockets at passerbys. I found myself puzzled as to how to go about eating these heads. Start by asking the waiter to cut the head in two, then begin picking away at the skin and inner-workings of the skull, though there are no given set of rules. Keeping in mind to avoid the multitude of bones inside, many people recommend slicing through chunks of the brain as a sinewy dessert to the meal. However, be warned, this option is usually left to those with more traditional tastes. (more…)

By Matt Scott

The Fire Festival had all the hallmarks of a one-off event: terrible parking in a muddy field, traders selling glow-in-the-dark necklaces, mobile food vendors, and music blaring over a P.A. system. Before I even entered the festival area I was cold and caked in mud having queued up for 20 minutes to buy a Korean interpretation of the hot dog: boiled fish on a skewer. It had been a long drive through the hills of Jeju Island to find the site, but the long queue of cars on the normally quiet roads had helped everyone find the right spot.

I had spent three months teaching English in an undergraduate school close to Seoul and was only just beginning to really appreciate the intricacies and richness of Korean culture and history. The school’s head professor, Dr. Sahn, had arranged a weekend trip to the southern island of Jeju to show the foreign teachers a different area of the country and to allow us to take part in a national celebration. Jeju Island, the remnant of a long extinct volcano, is a popular holiday spot in Korea. Its incredible mountains, beautiful beaches, and unique culture and history make it popular for Korean and international travelers alike. People come from around the world for its national park featuring waterfalls, caves, stunning cliffs, ocean views, and Korea’s second highest mountain, Mt. Halla.

Jeju — known as the Hawaii of Korea due to its warm climate and constant sea temperature — was well above freezing (while most of the mainland was experiencing heavy snowstorms). Our visit was timed to coincide with the first full moon of the lunar New Year as Jeju was the perfect place to see the Jeongwol Daeboreum Fire Festival. The festival dates back hundreds of years when farmers used to burn their fields to rid their land of disease, drive away the past year, and to pray for good fortune and bumper crops in the next year. The festival was banned in the middle of the 70′s as part of Korea’s fire prevention policy, but due to local outcry it was revived in 1997. (more…)

Your guide to the five must-see beaches in Vietnam.

By Justin Calderon

Vietnam, a country reminiscent of a war-torn epic that rang of rock-and-roll, decadence, and destruction­ was, up until recently, visited by only the adventurous traveler. Though late in its arrival as a member of part of the Southeast Asian travel belt, today this crescent-shaped land with innate tropical beauty has attracted international appeal, leading to an influx of budget tourists and luxury travelers alike from across the globe.

Cheap, tropical, mysteriously alluring — Vietnam’s climate provides the perfect beach vacation, while offering ample opportunity to peek down one of history’s infamous alleyways. Travelers will find a gamut of beaches dotting the coast including chill backpacker hangouts, luxurious resort getaways and sleepy fishing villages. From Central Da Nang to the southern capital of Saigon — north to south — lie five beaches every traveler should check out in their quest for the perfect beach in Vietnam.

1) Hoi An

Hoi An is an enclave of beautifully preserved yellow and blue buildings that makes you feel like you just stepped back in time into an 18th-century trading post. Sapphire waters lie on the other side of a 10-minute bike ride north through stagnant rice paddies, old French colonial villas, and the occasional propaganda billboard. The beachfront of the famed China Beach — the beach where soldiers were sent for R&R during the war — makes up the southern stretch. Recently named one of the most luxurious beaches in the world by Forbes, this white sand beach is home to comfy resorts and secluded swaths of sand.

Hoi An, however, has much more to offer than just a beach. Declared a UNESCO world heritage site in 1999, this coastal village was once known as the premier trading post in Southeast Asia for the Chinese and Japanese. A bike ride around town takes you back to life in a small far-flung trading settlement. However, since the influx of visitors, shoppers are more likely to come across trinkets and “made-to-measure” one-day tailors than authentic goods.

Market life is still prevalent next to the river where you will find fishermen paddling along in their boats, stirring up their catch of the day. For a sense of life before modern times, head into select buildings in the Old Quarter where you can view 200-year-old interiors that have been preserved for public viewing. (more…)

There are surely easier — and less smelly — ways to travel through Rajastan’s Thar Desert. But with a face like that, who could say “no” to a camel?

By Lucy Corne

As I bounced around in the camel cart trying to cling on to a bale of half-chewed hay, I was surprised to find myself thinking that I’d actually rather be riding one of these animals. Of course, being sandwiched between two camels, pondering which end emits a worse odor is not the most enviable position to be in, but I never thought I’d actually feel comfortable sitting atop a camel’s hump.

Quite a step for someone who, just 24 hours earlier, actually burst into involuntary tears at the mere thought of even touching a camel. It was a series of mistakes and coincidences that had led us to Bikaner, a relatively quiet corner of India’s much-visited Rajasthan province. Unable to secure tickets to the prettier, more popular city of Jodhpur, we opted instead for an overnight train to Bikaner, an untidy town in the northern reaches of India’s Thar Desert. With plans to stay a night and then head north to the Himalayas, we asked a rickshaw driver to take us to the closest cheap hotel. Our lack of Hindi and clear status as backpackers led him to presume that we were here for an overnight camel trek — seemingly the only reason people detour to Bikaner — and drove us away from downtown to Vijay’s Guesthouse, home of the infamous “Camel Man.” (more…)

A tour of Saigon from the backseat of a motorcycle.

By Justin Calderon

It’s dusk in Ho Chi Minh City — or Saigon as it is still called here — and the haze of the last ounce of light from the crimson setting sun is smothered in smog as I make my way through the busy streets. The thousands of motorcycles and scooters that clog the streets of Saigon every minute of the day begin turning on their headlights, lighting up the city in an iridescent glow of traffic.

I am on Pham Ngu Lao — essentially Saigon’s answer to Bangkok’s Khao San Road — in search of a place to sleep. It caters to the backpackers of Southern Vietnam, acting as a tourist information hub as well as a bus terminal. There are a wide variety of budget restaurants and trinket shops spread between dozens of ultra-discounted clothing retailers. However, a quick turn down one of the alleys off of the street reveals a much different world. These one-and-a-half-meter-wide thoroughfares shift through small neighborhoods of clustered homes with open doors, loud televisions, and even louder residents. There is an anthill of movement, babies crying, and the occasional chicken making its way across the street. The stir of Mahjong chips and smiles sets a jovial atmosphere to the otherwise intangible background static of the labyrinthine cement corridors.

When the hotels along the city’s main strips of Bui Vien and Pham Ngu Lao Street fill up during the peak season, travelers often wander down these dovetailed back alleys to find a host of inviting open doors with hand-painted hotel signs. Many of them are nothing more than a family’s home where spare bedrooms are rented out for extra money when the impending tourist boom busts at the seams. (more…)

By Jon Wick

To see more shots of my recent adventures through Japan, Vietnam (and once I have some free time, Korea), please visit my Flickr photostream.

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By Justin Calderon

The Philippines, the world’s second-largest archipelago next to Indonesia, is speckled with hundreds of islands boasting pristine beaches, cross-cultured cuisine, and friendly people wearing content smiles. The wide variety of islands encompass an illustrious array of different languages and topographies that make the Philippines a destination that travelers find themselves revisiting over and over again.

Beaches with driftwood that ornament the sugar-like sand lightly sparkle from the sun. The water is a sapphire blue that melts into the afternoon sky making the horizon vanish. There is only one set of footprints in the sand that lead directly to a village just beyond the barrier-bitten black volcanic rocks. No, this is not bustling Boracay, the destination most well renowned in the Philippines, but Negros, an island located in the central Visayas.

A ferry from Cebu city, the major travel hub in the Visayas, can connect you with the port city of Dumaguete, the self-proclaimed “most friendly city in The Philippines.” Dumaguete is home to the first Protestant university in the country, Silliman University, and incorporates the exemplary fiesta vibe that seems to resonate throughout the rest of the Visayas. The pace in Dumaguete is leisurely, even for a city in the Philippines, and a great port of entry to the rest of Negros Oriental. (more…)