This month’s contest theme stood out as soon as we ironed out our schedule. The world is full of wonder, and certainly the animal kingdom is one source of endless awe. That being said, we would like to congratulate Kimondo as this month’s winner, for the dramatic shot titled: “Thirsty Elephants.” Here’s what she had to share about the shot:

We were traveling in our jeep with rooftent to experience the real, wild Africa. It took us 5 weeks and about 7,700 kilometers. After the first two-and-a-half weeks we ended up on this little, wobbly boat on the Chobe River. The sun was casting her last rays for the day and everywhere we looked were giraffes, baboons and elephants. This big herd on the photo came down to the river to have drink and rinse of the dust of the day. A real African moment and one to never forget!

Matt described the photo as “simply spectacular,” and Maria as “exquisite.” Brit, on the other hand, took a deeper approach, “their reputation of having an incredible memory makes me wonder about wonderful things.” Regardless, I think we all agree that a photo and moment such as this, as Kimondo explains, is “one to never forget.”

You can see more of Kimondo’s excellent work at her Flickr page. Our next theme, throughout September, will be another visual spectacular. Join our Flickr group and upload your shots of “The World’s Icons.” We look forward to seeing more incredible talent!

Impressive vistas, grilled meat on an open flame, shots of faces that tell a story all of their own — this stunning video of Lebanon tells centuries worth of tales without saying a word.

James Lewis’ video from his travels in Lebanon better be good: a glimpse at his Vimeo page reveals he works for a visual effects company that worked on both “The Dark Knight” and “Inception.”

Check out the poignant images at 1:58 where a young boy points out the bullet holes in a wall, presumably in the country’s capital of Beirut, a reminder of some of the city’s not-so-better (but hopefully long-in-the-past) days.

[video by James Lewis/Vimeo via The Expeditioner's Travel Video Group]

When I first heard the term “flashpacker,” I instantly thought of the Bill Bryson book, “A Walk in the Woods.” The main characters are hiking the Appalachian Trail and running into people representing, more or less, a microcosm of society. One person they met was totally and utterly clueless about what it takes to complete that kind of undertaking. Through their conversation, the hiker explained that, rather than be educated about things, he would simply rely on the many gadgets and gizmos that filled his backpack and dangled from his straps. I’m not quite sure the outcome of his adventure, but one can only assume.

This, to me, was my initial vision of flashpacking. Keeping this in mind after many years of travel all over the world, I’ve come to understand that this is a fluid term, one that is seemingly evolving with the world. I wouldn’t quite call myself a flashpacker just yet, but I will admit that I have tendencies to swing that way. It wasn’t long ago that I carried everything on my back. Even some trips now call for that. Now that I’m pushing 30, I know I won’t be blacklisted from the travel community if my hostel reservation includes a private bathroom.

Reading the Bryson story, I got the impression that flashpacking was basically some idiot, depending on his load of disposable income, living out some unfulfilled dream about being a backpacker and traveling the world. However, now, after a little research, I have a different understanding of the term. The flashpacking definition I now have is basically something to this effect: A backpacker, only a little more grown up.

Nor surprisingly, even Wikipedia tackled the task of defining it:

A flashpacker shares some of the characteristics of a backpacker: a sense of independence, no fixed itinerary and relatively long periods of travel to more exotic and far-flung destinations. Whereas backpacking is traditionally associated with budget travel and destinations that are relatively cheap, flashpacking has an association of more disposable income while traveling and has been defined simply as backpacking with a bigger budget.

Now, don’t assume I’m traveling on some massive budgets — I’m not, I’m just a little better at fiscal self control now (usually). After a little reflection, my understanding of the term has gone from, “Aw, hell, I’m a flashpacker,” to more of a “Yeah, I’m probably some sort of flashpacker.”

After reading this recent Vagabondish article where they offer up six useful tips on being a successful flashpacker, I found that they seem to be paralleling my own thoughts, and now I feel just fine about the label.

However, two notable differences on the list are two you won’t find on a backpacker’s tip list: “Don’t feel guilty for taking short-cuts” (e.g., flying from Belgium to Spain rather than overland), and, “Don’t be ashamed to splash out” (“If you want to try each of the most expensive types of beer at a brewery in Munich, go for it”).

What to take away from this? Throw in your laptop, whiz in the privacy of your own bathroom, and change your underwear from week to week. Or do none of this. It’s no big deal, and call it what you want. Each of us still travels by our own means — whether that is evolving or not.

[photo by Georgio Montersino/Flickr]

What’s more fun than getting off a plane and immediately being hit up for cash just to step foot outside the airport? (I’ll answer my own question. The answer is: getting the seat next to the lavatory for your 16-hour flight. Oh the stories you’ll tell.)

The fact is, visas are never fun, especially for those of us saving every last penny for the actual trip. But the least you can do is make it one of the less stressful parts of your pre-trip by planning way ahead. So I present to you: how to get your visa to Vietnam.

If you’re a U.S. citizen, the first thing you need to do is check out Vietnam’s Consular Services web site here. This page runs down all the things you’re going to need to do.

1) Find your passport. Check in between couch cushions, in the back of your dog’s house, or if you’re a tycoon from the 1890′s, try that safe behind the painting in your wood-paneled office.

2) Fill out an application (Word/PDF). Make sure you kind of know your plans. They’re going to ask whether you need a single visa ($30) or a visa good for multiple entries (necessary if you’re traveling back and forth from nearby Cambodia or Laos). Keep in mind that prices go up depending on whether you’re going back and forth during a one-month stay or if you’re traveling longer ($50 for under one month, $80 for under six months, and $120 for six months to one year). And that’s just for the “stamping fee.” For the processing fee, handling fee, etc . . . , the fee is actually higher (but, conveniently, not listed). Call ahead of time and ask exactly how much you need to pay: (202) 861 – 2293.

Also, don’t forget you’re going to need to include a passport-sized photo too with your paperwork.

3) Break out the check book. Actually, not really, personal checks aren’t accepted. You’re going to need to wrangle up a money order, cashier check, or certified check. More likely than not, your bank will issue you a money order or cashier for free or a nominal fee. Most people (including bank tellers) don’t even know what a certified check is, so if you want to have a little fun, quiz them as to what it is while you’re there!

Like I said, fees vary depending on your plans. Check the going fee rates here.

4) Finally, just as your head is beginning to swim, head down to your local UPS or Fed Ex store and drop it all in an envelope along with a pre-paid return envelope so they can mail everything back. Don’t forget to keep you tracking number: this is your passport you’re sending off into the world — you’re going to want to track its journey.

5) And that’s it. The good news is that the turnaround time (at least for me) was surprisingly quick, and I had no problems getting everything back and in one piece. What’s even better is that your shiny, colorful new visa makes an impressive and scenic addition to your passport (unlike some, cheap receipt-like visas you get elsewhere — I’m looking at you Chile).

Finally, I’d be remiss in not mentioning another option for those skittish about mailing their passport around the country. Try VietnamVisaCenter.org, a company that allows you (for an extra fee) to apply and pay online and pick up your visa when your arrive by plane in either Ho Chi Minh, Danang or Hanoi.

Bonus: Visiting Cambodia? Do it all online and print out your visa in a matter of hours. Check out Cambodia’s ultra-efficient visa application system here.

Rolf Potts, author of “Marco Polo Didn’t Go There” and receiver of all questions travel-related in the column “Ask Rolf” on World Hum, has decided to pack his bags this late August and hit the road, traveling through 12 countries, five continents, and crossing the equator four times. So what, you ask? People do these kinds of trips all the time. Well, actually, there’s a catch: there will no baggage. And I’m not talking about disgruntled girlfriends being left back at home.

Rolf, in a half philosophical, half self-hygiene experiment, will be forgoing the usual luggage and simply taking a pair of multi-pocketed pants that will be home to a toothbrush, iPod, and some extra clothing — kind of like that homeless guy on the subway I saw this morning. Traveling in this spartan matter, Rolf will be visiting London, Paris, Spain, Morocco, Egypt, South Africa (for a safari), Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, New Zealand, Australia, then then back to the U.S. for a cross-country trek to New York City. Naturally, this will all be blogged about at the No Baggage Challenge site, where you can also find a map and recent videos.

USA Today recently sat down with Rolf (and by “sat down” I mean sitting down at computers and exchanging e-mails) and asked him what exactly he was looking to get out of this trip, other than a few potential rashes in embarrassing locations.

Q: How does paring down to essentials take you out of your comfort zone as a traveler?

A: It means I have nothing to fall back on, nothing to pack “just in case.” But in many ways that’s a good thing, since I can pack only true essentials. It also means I have to depend on others or seek out new experiences in a pinch. I have go to the barber for a shave in Morocco, for example, or visit a thrift store for a coat if the weather gets cold in New Zealand.

Q: Let’s talk about the personal hygiene/stink factor. Any strategies for not grossing out your seatmates?

A: I’ll be hand-washing my undershirt, socks, and underwear every day (letting it dry overnight). If for some reason my undershirts become irreversibly rancid after several weeks on the road, I’ll just buy new ones. I’ll also be carrying a small deodorant, and showering twice a day whenever possible.

Q: Boxers or briefs – and how many?

A: Briefs — one to wear, and two in the pockets. I’ll wash a pair each night.

Rolf, I love the idea for the trip, and I’ll be following you along the way, but I’ve got to say, think of your neighbors on the plane.

I can still remember what the crisp air smelled like. It was sweet and earthy with hints of eucalyptus and fresh dew.  The sky, always impossibly blue, seemed vaster on the open plains and grasslands then it had back home. The sounds of birds chirping tender songs awakened me each morning — their fervor inspiring my enthusiasm for the day ahead. Safari became more than just a journey along the African savanna — it sparked a connection to the natural world that has become a part of my existence.

It has been over a year since my trip to South Africa, and I still turn to old photos, news clippings, and personal memories to rekindle the internal peace I found during my stay. I was reminded of my visit to Phinda Game Reserve while reading Lucia van der Post’s “The Beautiful North” in the Financial Times, where she discusses her exploration of places less traveled, but worth visiting in northern Zambia.

Zambia is home to what is arguably some of the most pristine reserves in Africa. The southern region is where most travelers often spend their holiday, but by doing so they will be missing something quite spectacular.

As the article points out, North Luangwa National Park in northern Zambia is one of the best spots for walking safaris in a genuinely rustic setting. “It’s a raw and empty wilderness and these days that is something to be savored,” recalls Van der Post. There are no designer lodges or cars, just camps that sleep 28 people at a time. The accommodations are generously spread out “so that as you sit at sunset, your feet dangling in the clear and shallow waters of the Mwaleshi river, a glass of Pommery in hand, you have the illusion that you and your little group have all Africa to yourselves.”

Meals are usually cooked by guides and feasted on under a sky of pulsating stars.  The game are skittish around humans (believe me, this is actually a good thing), but it is not unlikely to encounter the big five as well as eland, hartebeest, and wildebeest. The most appealing part of the experience is being able to wander on foot for several days enveloped by the wild serenity of the Zambian bush.

Van der Post also suggests a trip to Kasanka during November or December where a massive daily migration of five million fruit bats occurs between 6 and 6:15 p.m. each day.  The incredible spectacle can be viewed from above in the Fibwe hide, deep in a mululu tree, as the bats scour fruit trees for food all night long.

An overnight stay at Shiwa Ng’ andu, the magnificent house of Sir Stewart Gore-Browne (now occupied by his grandson, Charlie Harvey), is a unique experience as guests live and dine with the family who enjoys sharing stories about their historical journey of survival in the African bush.

As I ponder ongoing reveries of my trip, I wonder if I will ever make it back; if I will ever feel as close to the natural world as I did during those clear winter days. I can only hope that concerted efforts to sustain these delicate ecosystems will protect some of the last remaining wild lands on Earth, so that I may one day return to the Africa I once knew.

By Justin Calderon

Button-faced gibbons lankily toss themselves through the canopy, a petite mouse deer gnaws at a bush below, and Betek — the chief and shaman of his tribe — methodically whittles another blow dart to such slender precision it nearly becomes invisible to the eye. He sheathes the final product into a vacant hole in the honeycombed interior of his bamboo case and draws another dart from his thick, curly black hair to smooth it out with a leaf coarse as crocodile hide.

Like most men from his tribe, his survival solely depends on his weapon — the instrument with which he shall obtain food for his family. He props himself proudly upright with the 1.5-meter bamboo blowpipe held at his side, standing proudly like a giddy child fond of his new walking stick. The hunt this afternoon will be pleasant, for the section of the jungle he has chosen to roam today is shaded with several densely layered canopies creating a green, leafy ceiling upwards of five stories above his head. This rainforest has been part of the Orang Asli, or original people, for an unrecorded amount of time, and because time is not a concept Betek is frank with, his age, as well as all the members of his family and surrounding tribes, is unknown, lost in the perpetual heat of the 140-million-year-old rainforest here in central Malaysia they call home.

A world Away

Taman Negara, which means National Park in Malay, is thought to be the world’s oldest rainforest, and is a veritable time capsule of ferns, fauna, and a way of life that has stood still in content without the knowledge of the end of another year. Back on the hurried streets of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia’s robust financial hub, Saudi tourists order shisah next to Chinese visitors counting down the days until the celebration of the year of the tiger. The two places might as well be solar systems away with all they share in common, for if either of these people were to switch places the experience would prove to be overwhelming, if not completely alien.

Realizing Our Roots

But Taman Negara is not a forlorn planet on some stellar wing. The park is directly in the middle of peninsular Malaysia, roughly four hours north of Kuala Lumpur. Malaysia’s capital is an auspicious menagerie of Malaysian, Indian, and Chinese culture that booms with the pulse of a clock ticking a tick too fast. The smell of curry tickles my nostrils as I walk along Bintang Walk in Kuala Lumpur’s massive shopping district. A nearby mega mall, aptly named Times Square, looms over the street where bargains get better every cascading tier of escalator you climb.

I’ve just left the air-conditioned theater from a screening of “Avatar.” The story of man’s inexorable tendencies to disregard the value of Mother Earth seeks refuge in my mind as I re-enter the streets of the city under the concrete awning of the skyscraper. As the main character in the movie, Jack Sully, begins to appreciate the roots of a life alien to himself, can we truly feel no empathy?

Settling Next To A Kuala

Bertek and his grandson, who could easily be mistaken for his son, toss fishing nets into the current of the wide river. To the unknowing eye the empty water bottle buoys look like garbage floating in the river. The plastic bottles, whittling knives, and second-hand clothes (replacing the leaves they once wore) are all products of the outside world, which they have adopted since they have recently begun to come into regular contact with foreigners.

Those seeking to experience the elements with them are more than welcome to stay a night with Betek, where he and his family will act as your guides. Betek’s people, the Orang Asli, are nomadic by nature, moving only for better food sources or if there is a death in the family; always settling next to a river. The river has always been a key element to making settlements, and in Malaysia this is an attribute very much understood. In Bahasa Malaysia (the official language of Malaysia and a tongue also shared by the Orang Asli), the word for a junction between two rivers is kuala, a common title found in city names across Malaysia. (The capital city, Kuala Lumpur, actually means muddy river, a name given during the settlement of the city.)

Protected Lowland Rainforest

A narrow boat needles its way for two hours against the current from Kuala Tembeling to Kuala Tahan, where a small group of family-run hotels and hostels are nestled on the southern tip of this giant jungle. Visitors will only see a portion of this protected lowland rainforest, assuring its preservation while keeping people out of contact with the more territorial members of the park. It’s rare to see larger animals, though their discordant calls can be heard reverberating through canopies in the midst of a jungle ballad.

Screeching Cicadas

When the ambiguous sounds of the day give way for nocturnal creatures to spring to life, guides will assist you on a night safari down a well-boarded path with flashlights. Most of the wildlife you’ll see on this trip will be small insects taking the forms of stick bugs, scorpions, and the irritating cicada. From the moment the sun sets, these bulbous bugs the size of two thumbs pressed together wail with a racketing pomp that sounds like a fire alarm giving up to drained batteries.

“The cicada only lives two weeks,” our guide tells us as we make our way through the dense overgrowth. “There is not much time, so he always sounds very happy.”

If you get lucky, your guide is likely to shimmer his flashlights on the red eyes of a gibbon, samba deer, or mouse deer, the latter being a petite, pointy-nosed cross between a deer and, of course, a mouse.

Sniping At Monkeys

Betek is quite fond of most of these animals — mostly for their nutritional value. He explains to us over his boiling porcupine soup that spears are wielded when hunting small land mammals, while blowpipes are used to stealthily snipe at birds or monkeys lounging on treetops. Visitors are encouraged to take a shot of a blowpipe at a target in the village, though the weapon is most accurate when shot vertically.

Betek unsheathes a fresh dart and places it in the pipe, then dislodges a piece of green hand-made cotton stowed behind his ear to add as a pressure stopper – giving an audience to his crack-shot skill. During the midday hunt he managed to wound a small monkey on the arm. The darts used by the Orang Asli are laced with poison from the sap of a tree that is lethal to small animals. The wound to the arm can be considered a prize shot because after the monkey becomes faint from the poison and falls from the treetops, he will have to amputate the infected part of the body.

Men Hunt, Women Build

“Men are good for hunting. Women are good for making homes,” Betek explains while a small bug crawls up his cheek — bringing no concern to either party. The seven thatched huts and leafy lean-tos that make up this camp have been built by the women of the village. The lean-tos are used by women with newborns so their lives may be brought into the public eye, allowing the tribe to unite around the needs of a new member. Planks of wood with donated blankets make up a large extent of the interior. The dirt floor has a hole dug in the corner where meals are labored over day in and day out. None of them have ever sat in a movie theater before. The only sounds they are given for entertainment are the chirping cadences of the forest and each other’s company.

Animists

The Orang Asli, like many indigenous cultures in Southeast Asia, are animists — a spiritual belief sown out of the sanctity of paying homage to the elements of the jungle (e.g., trees, water, sky, ground). Food shortages and the release of a human spirit into the soil are deemed bad omens, foreboding enough to abandon camp, usually with the shell of their former lives in tact, to find solace through the course of another transient trek. As chief and shaman, Betek has the responsibility of attending to all medical and spiritual needs of his family. The Malaysian government has donated modern medicine to tribes of the Orang Asli, but the people still stand by methods of the forest, cultivating miscellaneous ferns and saps along the forest floor.

World’s Longest Canopy Bridge

Standing 40 meters from the ground below on the longest canopy bridge in the world, I look across the lowland landscape of jungle kicking about in the wind like a vast ocean floor of green anemones. The towering trees along the canopy walk are spectacularly tall — appearing to make dents in the sky. The bridge is about 460 to 500 meters long, and took me the better part of 15 minutes to walk across, occasionally stopping to totter on the wobbly foot-width of board for a snapshot.

The roots of plants slip out of every layer of the dense jungle making a web of life with no distinguishable beginning or end. The Orang Asli have taken up roots below these giants in harmony for a time no clock can count. A night out in the jungle of Taman Negara, exposed to the elements of the Earth (not to mention leeches during the wet season), seems an adventure too foreign for most, but Betek’s crooked-toothed grin goodbye tells a different tale. An ineffable sense of pride captures him and his people. Having the opportunity to share their way of life with those curious enough to take notice is a reward they are all too willing to savor and repeat for those yet to come. The gap between our worlds may be vast, but it is clear to see that the rainforest has endowed the untainted spirit of these simple people a human nature akin to the planet which both of us call home.

Justin Calderon been living in and out of Asia since 2006 teaching, writing and enjoying as much adventure as the gentle attrition of time can allow.

After two semesters abroad in Australia and Thailand with Marist College, this New Yorker furthered his love affair with the Eastern Hemisphere by moving to South Korea. When the Korean Peninsula got to be too cold for him, he jumped over to Taiwan where he taught English and learned Chinese for two years.

Justin currently lives in Shanghai where he is a print copywriter for Global Sources, a leading trade magazine that specializes in Chinese exports. So far, he has traveled to 13 countries and regions in the Far East alone, and plans to continue his insatiable wanderlust while jotting it all down.

To track what Justin has been up to recently go to justincalderon.wordpress.com.

“This is an emergency announcement. We may shortly need to make an emergency landing on water.” — Announcement heard by 275 passengers aboard a Tuesday-night British Airways flight from London to Hong Kong. The message was a mistake.

[Yahoo]

Friday, late August, cool summer breezes . . . um, why are you sitting here reading this site? Oh yeah, that pesky day job. First off, thanks, come again. Second, let’s be honest, by this time of day you’ve already checked out mentally a long time ago, so to give you a little bit of virtual wanderlust, I direct you to the Guardian’s recent collection of backpacking tales from trekkers during a gap year (that’s British for taking a year off and traveling before joining the real world and going to school or getting a job).

These seven tales of adventure include  a 9,000-mile journey by bike to India, volunteering at a HIV/AIDS orphanage in Cambodia, and hitchhiking (using Gumtree.com) from England to Israel. But beware, the whole hitchhiking thing can present some problems for those looking to really get to know the countries their traveling through, as that hitchhiker found out. “In some cars, especially after a night spent camping just off the hard-shoulder, my head would droop and 12 hours later I’d wake to realize I’d missed an entire country (sorry Slovakia, Bulgaria and northern Israel), but the further east I went, the more unfamiliar the scenery became and the more often my eyes would stay open.”

[Hamburg bitte by rpb1001/Flickr]

Just like our itineraries are different, so are our levels of comfort. Some people prefer to bring the bare necessities, needing to pack light for their meandering feet, while others need to bring a personalized blanket for sentimental coziness. A recent article in The Toronto Star highlighted the importance of “packing a bit of home to cushion the road.” In it, Josh Noel provides some examples of what you can load up on to lighten your mood: An electric toothbrush, your own alarm clock, and framed family photos, just to name a few.

These items might seem a bit much, and I think they are — as the article was directed towards the business traveler audience — but his advice makes sense. For whatever reason that compels us to travel — either our company we work for or some innate desire — it helps when you have a tangible reminder of home with you.

Personally, I travel with a stuffed animal named Kongito, little Kong. A few summers ago, on top of the Empire State building, he was gifted to me because I love gorillas, specifically Peter Jackson’s digital version of the tender-hearted ape. I was on top of the world.

Although he looks more like a cow than an ape, he is smooth and squishy and never complains about where we are going next — and, yes, I am in my mid-twenties. Some nights, tossing and turning on a bunk bed in a hostel, I would bolt upright looking around for him, wondering if he would be forever lost in the crack between the bed and wall. Using my cell phone as a flashlight, I was always able to find him and I would always quickly fall back asleep.

In the challenge of discomfort and readjustment, sometimes we need reminders to not lose ourselves.

Today, people from all over are traveling everywhere. With such an increase in diversity, the common question is: where are you from? People want to know where your ancestors are from. It fulfills a not-so-secret curiosity, the same one that propels people to travel.

What if you plate it for people? With, say, haggis. Curiosity and belly simultaneously sated.

Such is Daniel Audet and Yvon Marois’ motives when they established the Ruée vers Gould, as this recent article in The Montreal Gazatte highlighted. Although their haggis is not wrapped in sheep’s stomach or has mashed up lungs, it does contain traces of  ”chopped heart and liver (plus suet, oatmeal, ground lamb and spices).”

Just outside of Sherbrooke, Québec, the inn is situated in the old general store in Gould — a town with historic Scottish pioneer roots. The duo started the inn in 1995 to put the local “Scottish culture on display.” As well, the Scottish flair for entertaining was taken into account. Sporting kilts, the pair serve an authentic Scottish brunch consisting of 40 items. And you’d come here looking for authentic French culture.

Okay, you may have traveled to some “rustic,” “off-the-beaten-path,” or, dare I say, “quaint” towns during your travels, but how many of them can you say are actually denoted as being “magic”? And not by some made-up huckster like J.K. Rowling or Rick Steves, but somebody credible, like the Mexican Government!

As Jaunted reported back in June, Mexico’s Ministry of Tourism is in the process of spending $150 million to restore certain villages across the country, which will include makeovers for museums, convents and churches, all in an effort to draw more visitors to one of these lucky 35 Pueblos Magicos.

This week, the SF Chronicle hit up one such enchanted village, Valle de Bravo, a town known not so much for its local charm, but for its influx of wealthy Mexicans that head there for weekend getaways. But, as the paper notes, it’s not all bad. “Yes, Valle has been discovered by the Travel + Leisure contingent, but budget travelers who don’t require resort-style pampering will find plenty of affordable places to lay their heads within walking distance of the square.”

Nearby, travelers can also visit Taxco, known as a silver craft center, and further east (okay, quite a bit east), in the Yucatan is Izamal, the “yellow city” (because, well, everything’s yellow), where travelers can visit local craftsmen, Mayan pyramids, and the famed convent of San Antonio de Padua (where thousands of miracle seekers descend every year).

No word yet if nearby Cancun will get the anointed title of “magic” — something abut Senor Frogs not being authentic enough.

I’ve always taken one of my Grandfather’s saying to heart: You simply can’t make soup out of poop. He certainly had a knack for restoring things that couldn’t have otherwise been resurrected without his magic, but he certainly knew when to throw in the towel when something was beyond repair.

This may not be the most accurate of analogies regarding the news story I’d like to share with you today, but it’s a good chance to impart some of Grandpa Wick’s wisdom on all of you. Actually, I can’t come up with a proper analogy, now that I think of it. I can’t say “a diamond in the rough” really works. Neither does, “make the best of what you’re got.” Regardless, sometimes amidst the silliest, lamest, or dumbest things in life, there is a silver lining . . . somewhere . . . usually.

At the ABC News travel desk, they noticed that cruise ships — yes, the dreaded “c” word Matt usually edits off into the netherworld –– are starting to join the ranks of the elite drinking culture. Spreading throughout ships worldwide are champagne bars, pubs, coffee shops, sport and martini bars. Thank goodness.

The big winner here is going to be the Norwegian Cruise Line. Either that means they have fallen by the wayside and are eagerly revamping their ships of late, or they are leading the next generation of cruise-goers into the modern age. I’d have to give Celebrity and Carnival cruise lines a tip of the hat for their innovations in the world of alcohol delivery.

NCL is now home to one of the only ice bars floating around the seas. Complete with an ice top and blocks of ice to sit on, these martini bars will not only make you chill out, but will drive away the screaming kids in under ten minutes. Also on their ship, Norwegian Dawn, you’ll find one of the best English-style pubs anywhere (especially in the middle of the ocean). With a classic pub feel you don’t normally get on cruises — and the pub grub to go along with it — the fruity drink menu (okay, that part is not very English pub-like) will melt away your concerns as you settle back into your comfort zone.

You see, the cruise operators are beginning to recognize that people on a cruise sometimes want to feel as if they, well, aren’t on a cruise. That, to me, is making “soup out of poop.”

[photo by Stacy Lynn Baum/Flickr]