It’s a terrible thing to say, but I usually detest going to beaches in the U.S. Many are crowded, dirty, and littered with rows of obnoxious high-rise buildings and condos. I know, I must sound like a very grumpy person, but as a traveler who has ventured to (and is very thankful for) protected beaches enveloped by nothing more than swaying palms and the indefinite horizon, I do become just a wee bit surly when sitting next to a group of “Jersey Shore”-like wannabees who are using the sand as an ash tray for their cigarette butts.

This is not to say that the U.S. has no beaches worth visiting, because it does, and some are quite beautiful. As reported by the SF Chronicle, Florida International University professor Steven Leatherman, aka “Dr. Beach” (yes parents, you are paying his salary), just released his list of the best beaches in the U.S.

For the number one spot this year he chose Siesta Beach in Sarasota, Florida. Having been there myself, I can vouch that minus the scores of beachfront vacation rentals, hefty crowds in high season and poor public parking, this 40-acre stretch of soft, almost pure quartz crystal sand and calm, blue waters is exquisite.

Coming in for a strong second was San Diego’s Coronado Beach; Kahanamoku Beach in Waikiki, Honolulu, took third; Main Beach, East Hampton, New York, came in fourth; and holding its own in fifth place was Cape Hatteras in North Carolina.

Wonder how one decides how good a beach is? According to the article, “Leatherman ranks beaches on 50 criteria, including the look and feel of the sand, water quality, weather, facilities and crowds. A top score is 250. Siesta Beach scored in the 230s, losing minor points because the vista is heavy on condos to the north and south of the county park. Once a beach reaches the pinnacle of Leatherman’s list, it is retired from consideration for future rankings.”

So if you’re planning on going beach-hopping through the U.S. this summer, these spots are where it’s at. Just remember to kindly discard of any cigarette butts, beer cans and “The Situation” tanning grease before leaving the pearly shores.

[Photo by ForthDude/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Want To Know Where The Best Beach In The U.S. Is? Read On appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Guatemalans love ice cream. Well, at least in Antigua they do. At every turn, the historic city’s cobblestone streets seem to be crawling with people licking drippy cones of sugary frozen cream topped with a dollop of syrupy strawberry goodness. And it made me want it — like really want it — all the time.

The ice cream obsession became similar to my crazy cravings for coffee, and it had the same effect. Normally, if I were to see someone cradling a steamy cup of Joe, I would immediately feel the addiction tick go off in my head and, at that point, there would be no turning back: I would have to, somehow, get my hands on a vanilla soy latte. So, when I was taunted with swarms of people buying, selling, sharing and licking — always licking — ice cream, well, I had to get in on the licking party too. So I ate ice cream — a lot of it — and from almost every vendor and shop in Antigua.

And there were many shops and cart vendors to choose from, all located in walking distance of Parque Central. My top favorite vendors (in no particular order) were: Pida Sus Helados Cremosas, Super Esmeralda Helados, Saborealo Helados Chonita, and Deliciosos HeladoEmanuel. Each rolling cart produced the same sugary vanilla ice cream plopped on a cone and smeared with strawberry syrup, and all for the fine price of 1 Quetzal (or about the nice round price of $0.14). Although almost identical in appearance, the taste did differ from cart to cart. My favorite of favorites was Super Esmeralda Helados because it didn’t have an overwhelming frozen yogurt taste nor did it have a grainy texture like some of the others I sampled.

Helados Sarita and Helados Marco Polo seemed to be the two most popular ice cream shops in Antigua. They were set up more like your traditional mom-and-pop shops here in the States, complete with a toppings station and flavors display window.

All the ice cream eating was going just fine until I started to feel some uncomfortable rumbling in my stomach. As time passed the rumbling turned to pain, then the pain turned to nausea, and, well, you can probably figure out the rest. I began to wonder if I had gone overboard with the ice cream eating, but I rationalized that my consumption had been no more than what I would normally eat in an average week during the summer. No, there had to be more to what was going on. So I did what any savvy traveler would do — I turned to Google.

It didn’t take long to find the warnings. Almost every blog and informational website that mentioned ice cream and Antigua suggested that visitors should avoid eating from the carts on the streets as the sanitary conditions were “unregulated” and “unknown.” So there I was, a supposed seasoned traveler, who always prided herself on knowing the “what to avoid” stuff, sick from the mounds of “unsanitary” ice cream I had obsessively shoveled into my mouth.

So the moral to the story here? Lick like the locals in moderation and do it inside, ideally in the confines of a mom-and-pop shop.

[Photo by Antiguadailyphoto.com/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Licking Like A Local In Antigua, Guatemala (Ice Cream, That Is) appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

The limestone steps were nearly vertical at some points, each varying in length and width, distorting my perception of depth, and causing me to stumble like a lame bird. I peered over the edge and sighed at the lush landscape of verdant highlands almost 800 feet below; a magnificent view of coconut palms, rubber trees and coffee plantations stretched for miles amidst majestic karsts.

I pressed on to the next flight, wiping the sweat from my face so I could clearly read the distance marker that read: 913 — 359 steps were left to climb before reaching the peak. I wondered how over a thousand feet of narrow, winding staircase had been carved into the cliff when I could barely ascend without clenching the metal railing.

My legs began to tremble as I rounded the next flight, providing a clear sign that I should stop and rest for a moment. I sat in a small alcove where an outhouse had been built, and slowly swished some tepid water around my mouth. Two butterflies gracefully circled flora sprouting from the crag’s edge, their vibrant cerulean wings beating a dance of courtship. The tranquil location lulled my rapid heartbeat to a slow steady drum and I began to feel aligned with the quiet rhythms of nature.

Located in southern Thailand, Wat Tham Sua, or Tiger Cave Temple, is an intricate maze of natural limestone caves, surrounded by dense jungle. The name stems from a Thai legend that tells of a tiger that once inhabited the caverns, stirring the village people with its fierce roar. Today, the grottoes are used as dwelling quarters and sacred areas of worship for monks practicing Vipassana, an ancient technique of insight meditation. Two staircases at the base of the temple lead to very different destinations. The first, consisting of the 1,272 steps I had chosen to climb, leads to a peak with panoramic views of the surrounding area. The other, a more manageable 130 steps, winds down to a network of elusive caves where monks come to meditate everyday amidst the chorus of thousands of chanting cicadas in the nearby hills. Though the temple itself was built only in 1976, archeologists have excavated tools and pottery dating back to the Stone Age from the caverns, suggesting an ancient civilization once existed in the area.

I stood up deciding to make a final push for the top. The air seemed drier and sweeter as I climbed the final staircase, each inhalation fueling my determination. Finally, at the peak, I was rewarded with an impeccable prize: 360-degree views of bucolic Krabi province. I walked slowly on the smooth, orange tiles of the temple floor gazing at the distant paths of outcrops leading to the Andaman Sea. I paused to admire several impressive Buddha statues and whispered a short prayer before the “footprint of the Buddha” — a historical representation of the Buddha’s footprint, imprinted in stone, symbolizing the ground that his transcendent feet touched after attaining enlightenment.

Wat Tham Sua was one of many reasons why Krabi seemed so delightfully isolated from the rest of Thailand. The rural province is an oasis of sleepy beach towns, unexploited natural landscapes and approximately 130 islands accessible from several locations on its scenic shorelines. Unaffected by the recent upheaval in Bangkok, and away from the crowded party towns of Phuket, Krabi was the perfect place to wind down after a rigorous two-week journey through some of the more touristy areas of Thailand.

Visitors can fly directly into Krabi International Airport from Bangkok, Koh Samui or Kuala Lumpur. I was traveling from Chiang Mai, so my only option was to fly into Phuket, where I stayed overnight to catch up on some much-needed rest. The following afternoon I headed three hours east towards Krabi via private car. After several failed attempts throughout the trip of trying to bargain with irrational taxi drivers who refused to turn on their meters, the private car companies here proved to be less expensive and free of hassle.

As we neared the northern districts of Krabi, the landscape began to resemble an 18th-century version of Jurassic Park — lush jungle and curtains of precipitous limestone towers stretched as far as the eye could see. Almost 20 miles from the hotel, I asked the driver to stop by the Krabi night market so that I could sample some authentic southern Thai cuisine. The delectable display of curries, coconut waffles, roti kluay (warm banana pancakes), and all things satay, became a smorgasbord of inexpensive treats. Much of the food was prepared by Muslim vendors, so alcohol was forbidden, but luckily overindulgence of delicious fare was not.

After the market I continued on with the remaining 45-minute drive to the resort. Here the roads became less traveled and acres of seemingly impenetrable forest were the only thing separating the few scattered shacks on the side of the road from miles of shoreline.

Our hotel, the Amari Vogue, was nestled in the outskirts of Kao Hang Nak Natural Forest on the pearly sands of Tubkaak Beach. From the resort’s secluded location, guests can look out across the sea to the perpetually haze-enveloped Hong Islands, 15 minutes away by long-tail boat. The 57-room boutique hotel is a relatively inexpensive alternative to the Phulay Bay Ritz Carlton, also situated on Tubkaak Beach, and about a five-minute drive down the road.

In between long strolls, swimming in the bath-like ocean, and watching the assiduous eating rituals of hundreds of sand bubbler crabs, I took sun-soaked trips to the surrounding islands.

On the second day of our stay my husband and I were picked up at 8 a.m. by Phi Phi Island tours and were taken 20 minutes by car to the Ao Nang port. From there we boarded a speedboat with six Singaporeans, two Parisians and our witty Thai guide, Sanun, and set off on the resplendent waters of the Andaman Sea. As we approached the shore of Maya Bay, several of us stood awe-struck by the island’s massive limestone humps — glorious barriers that seemed to gracefully bow inward creating a sea of tranquility within the cove. Although the beach was crawling with tourists, I couldn’t stop giggling as I splashed around in the warm, glowing water, feeling like a child who had just discovered her very own secret garden.

An hour later we continued on to Phi Phi Leh’s emerald lagoon where we snorkeled among a serene world of diminutive clownfish, black corals, spindly sea whips and strikingly white coral bushes. As I swam back to the boat, one of my new Singaporean friends pulled me underwater abruptly. Stunned, I quickly tried to swim away until I heard the muffled screams: “lionfish!”, “lionfish!” I dove down as quickly as I could to where my friend was pointing and saw the magnificent spiny creature sauntering its way through the tall sea grass.

Next we stopped for lunch at Areeda Restaurant on Phi Phi Don and feasted on papaya salad, sweet and sour prawn soup and fried cashew chicken. Trying to walk off some of my lunch, I strolled the sandy paths while soaking in the lazy vibe of the beachside bars and cafes. I purchased a small wooden Buddha at one of the many vendors that specialize in selling amulets, odd trinkets and T-shirts, and carried it in my pocket for good luck.

On our way back to the port, Sanun offered us a delicious pound-cake-like dessert called Trang cake, which I have sought after relentlessly since returning home in hopes of finding a way to ship a year’s supply to my home. No luck yet. Sanun searched for another area where we could snorkel among the beautiful white coral, but the monsoons had stirred the currents, dragging strings of colorful, stinging jellies out to the open ocean giving the appearance of a hundred drifting crystal balls bobbing whimsically about the soft waves.

“Safety first friends, we cannot snorkel here, so we head back and you go to sleep,” said our grinning guide.

Later that night, after watching a brilliant sunset, my husband and I ate the spring rolls and vegetable curry we picked up in the town of Ao Nang from the comfort of the long cozy bench outside our suite. The sound of the gentle waves and the soft glow of twilight did indeed lull us into a restful sleep.

The next morning we bargained with a man named Khun, who routinely parked his long-tail on the shoreline by the hotel, and agreed on a price of 1,800 baht for a day-trip to Phra Nang Beach. Unfortunately, not much conversation was exchanged on the way over as the steep language barrier became apparent.

“You like Thailand?” shouted Khun over the loud sputter of the motor.

“Oh yes, very much,” I replied. “Have you eaten today?” I then blurted out. I received a blank stare followed by a profusion of nods and hearty chuckles, but no answer. I decided my attempt to practice proper Thai colloquialisms had failed miserably and I should probably stick to simple hand gestures.

Nearly an hour later we arrived at Phra Nang Beach. Known as one of the best places in the world for rock climbing – though, a climber I am not – this gorgeous expanse of shoreline was the perfect spot to cradle my toes in duvet-like sand and relax with a good summer read. The peninsula is comprised of three beaches: Phra Nang, Railay West, and Railay East. Visitors can find an array of accommodations and restaurants varying significantly in price and comfort on any of the three beaches.

I preferred to spend the day on Phra Nang Beach, as it is the quietest of the three, admiring its soaring cliffs, enchanting coves and peaceful location. Within the base of one of the grandeur precipices visitors can explore Tham Phra Nang Nok, or Princess Cave, a cavern filled with odd phallic sculptures carved by local fisherman to protect against turbulent weather and to ensure a fruitful day of fishing. The cape is cut off from the mainland by massive cliffs, so organizing a visit at low-tide is a must.

On the last day of our stay we sailed to Koh Hong with Khun, whose company I was really beginning to enjoy. Using body language and ridiculous gestures, we were somehow able to hold succinct “conversations” during the 20-minute ride. Pelay Bay, the island’s only swimmable beach, provided a more adventurous encounter with the surrounding topography and sea life. The placid, warm waters were perfect for viewing schools of stripped tiger fish, gar, and floating pink jellies. I watched as a nearby group of young locals fed the squirmy sea life, and chuckled at the sensation of hundreds of fish nibbling at my ankles, calves, and knees as they searched for morsels of food around me.

After a rejuvenating swim, I hiked a small trail located just off the beach where the skeletons of two boat wrecks had been cast by the force of the 2004 tsunami. Left rotting on their sides, the vessels were an ephemeral reminder of the destruction that took place that somber day.

An expat I had befriended earlier in the trip on the flight from Chiang Mai to Phuket explained the effect the tsunami had here. “After the tsunami the people of southern Thailand united, as many believed that an overzealous addiction to greed had angered God so much that he brought punishment upon his people,” he explained. “A few years later the unification dissipated, ‘shady’ businesses resumed and many of the beautiful beach spots have been exploited once again.”

I thought back to my short stay in Phuket when I had immediately felt uncomfortable and far from home while driving through the congested streets. It was distinctly commercial and overdone; a fast paced lifestyle and disingenuous attitudes were apparent. Krabi was different. The familiar Thai smile that says “welcome friend” was ever-present. Nature was left undisturbed and day-to-day life appeared to be charmingly simple. I fell in love with the leisurely pace and indulged in the endless opportunities to explore so many magnificent islands on a whim. In a country where tourism remains the primary source of revenue, it was a privilege to visit one of the last remaining areas where your heart can find that quiet rhythm that only simplicity can promise.

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Krabi’s Peaceful Rhythms appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

The chaotic streets of Rio and San Paulo crawl with swarms of people and impatient vehicles, all swiveling and swerving in a poetic motion that screams: “It’s alive up in here!” It almost seems like you can’t escape the loud pulse that beats through Brazil — unless you head somewhere like Boipeba, a remote island near Salvador, the capital of the state Bahia. Here, the magical Brazilian vibe lies in the undisturbed landscape and semi-primitive accommodations that make a visit to this island a very unique — very unconnected experience.

The recent New York Times article on Boipeba notes how“Boipeba may lack glamour, but it compensates with ridiculously perfect weather and the kind of vacant, palm-shrouded beaches that make you forget about the pleasures of air-conditioning.” And it’s not all about lounging around here. “For those needing more diversions, there is a rare swath of unmolested Atlantic rain forest to be explored, acres of coral reef and picturesque colonial-era villages where the fish you glimpsed during your afternoon snorkel could very well end up on your dinner plate.”

In Boipeba visitors leave the pulse of the city behind and embrace the heartbeat of nature. Here, many of the accommodations don’t have Internet, phone service, or television, and electricity may even be sporadic depending on the day, but that is kind of the point of visiting this “ecologically fragile haven.” Charles Levitan, owner of Pousada Santa Clara, a cluster of white-washed cottages on Boipeba, warns any perspective guests that, “If you can’t live in the moment, this isn’t the place for you.”

Although there are flights that run from Salvador, most visitors choose to take the four-hour trip by ferry, which arrives where most of the island’s accommodations lie beachfront. Then it’s just another day in paradise — swimming, snorkeling, strolling on empty stretches of beach, and maybe even a trip to the mangroves to absorb the fantastic natural scenery. After all, it is Brazil, and even its quieter corners are simply magnetic.

[Photo by Thowa_uk/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post The Pulse (Or Lack Thereof) Of Boipeba, Brazil appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

One disheartening aspect of travel is the uncertain fate of many of the places we visit. The growing trend of privatization and destruction of national parks, tribal land, and rainforests is such a sad reality that I can’t help but wonder: “When will we get that this is all we have?” Soon there will be nothing left to exploit. Most travelers are always on the lookout for the next “undiscovered” spot, that slice of raw earth that may just return our sanity and clarity. Yet how often do we consider being proactive in the preservation of those very places that have brought worth to our lives?

Sometimes I think about standing next to the Naked Cowboy in the middle of Time Square (fully clothed that is — I’ll let him draw the attention) with a sign inscribed with all kinds of crazy political statements about saving the environment. But, luckily, I am struck with clarity, thanks to the recent trip I took, and I realize even the Naked Cowboy can’t solve our problems.

A recent article in The New York Times on Koh Kong’s emergence as an eco-tourism destination in Cambodia, aroused the enraged hippie in me on news of the construction of a “$5 billion, 25-year Chinese-financed tourism project that includes an airport, a sea port, a golf course and a large commercial development along a stretch of Koh Kong’s southern coast.”

This coupled with government plans to sell parcels of national parks to private developers, the proposal of several Chinese-built dams along Koh Kong’s rivers, and a recent government approval to build a titanium mine nearby Chi Phat — which could result in the possible loss of 11,000 acres of rain forest — is pretty horrifying.

The article begins with a magical description of Koh Kong, one of the few relatively untouched areas of Southeast Asia. And up until this point, efforts to breed eco-tourism along the dreamy island have been a success. Most accommodations blend with, and respect, Mother Nature’s needs, making Koh Kong seem like that ethereal slice of raw earth that we all crave.

Koh Kong is just one example of the many soon to be exploited natural wonders of the world. So I pose this question to you, my fellow travelers: “What can we do?” Many of us use social media, dabble in writing, and work in PR, so are we willing to use these influential tools to fight for a cause we are most passionate about? I’m certainly willing to, and I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

[Photo by Happytimeblog/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Eco-Tourism Boom In Koh Kong Bringing Big Changes To Cambodia appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Exploring India is hardcore, and the most jaded of travelers will tell you so. The cacophonous sounds, pungent smells, melange of colors, and unnerving division between rich and poor screams chaos and curiosity. It’s that fusion of wonder and too much of everything that that makes a trip to this vibrant country so intriguing.

In this recent New Zealand Herald article, “Indian Odyssey,” the author writes about his second visit to India ( his first visit was cut short by a “mystery illness” that caused him “to collapse in the street and necessitated a week in the hospital”)  where he embraces the “hard work” of exploring the Golden Triangle, a tourist circuit which includes: Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur.

Reed’s first stop on the triangle is Agra where he visits the Taj Mahal and is bothered by “squads of crack guides marshalled besides the foreigner’s ticket office.” Still, after one glimpse of the great mausoleum, he is “rendered speechless” because he feels that “like many truly great sights, it’s even better than you had been led to believe: intricate and imposing, ornate and subtle.”

In Jaipur, the capital of Rjasthan, Reed goes palace hopping at the City and Amber Palaces, but warns that too many jaunts to the jewel-studded homes can be total palatial overkill. He then heads southwest to Ranthambore National Park, known as one of the few remaining places on Earth for tiger sightings, in hopes of getting up close and personal with the exotic cat. Unfortunately, Reed has no luck in meeting the majestic beast, but does run into a bear on his tour, which he notes as an even more rare sighting.

Moving on to Udaipur, Reed is calmed by the lack of crowds, cooler weather and “less persistent touts,” and so, he decides to get his haircut by an 82-year-old (man? . . . woman?) then finishes the visit off with a lovely cup of chai tea. Now how totally hardcore does that sound? OK, so maybe we’ll get to the hardcore part in Jodphur.

Nope. Here he visits the old city’s “web of criss-crossing streets and passages,” and notes how, “the people are friendly, and the touts keen to learn.”

Reed’s final stop is in Jaisalmer, located in the far west of the state. He describes the city as “dominated by its fort, a once-impregnable citadel rising from the sands of the Thar Desert.” It is here where Reed rides a camel into the blistering heat of the desert and camps out on the dunes under a sea of pulsating stars.

As you can see, and just as Reed’s article mentions: “India is hard work.” So where is the passage about the stomach-ripping smorgasbord of spicy  foods, or, the “maddening, startling cauldron of sights, sounds, tastes and smells,” or that political statement about the abject poverty? Sorry, I guess Reed was too involved in sipping his chai tea and going palace hopping to worry about all that hard work.

[Taj Mahal by Paul Swansen/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Exploring India’s Golden Triangle Is So Hardcore appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Chandrika Krishnamurthy Tandon is proving to the world that it is possible to live out your passion, even if it means clearing the path to success a little later in life. As a distinguished leader in the financial sector, and a 2011 GRAMMY nominee for her album, Om Namo Narayanaya: Soul Call (on Soul Chants Music), Tandon has much to revel in. The road to her success has not been easy, but Tandon is not the kind of woman who backs down to a few blockages.

Thirty years ago, Tandon moved from her home in India to New York City with only $24 in her pocket. She landed a job with McKinsey — America’s most prestigious management consulting firm — but had to sleep on the floor of her apartment for the first six months after choosing to use her first paycheck to buy a Martin Guitar and a great hi-fi so she could finally hear her favorite music in stereo.

Throughout her career, Tandon traveled the world for business purposes, but was always drawn to the eclectic sounds of a place. She would seek out local musicians, follow music festivals in the streets and attempt to learn languages through songs.

Even as a child Tandon was infatuated with music, but she knew choosing it as the course of her studies would not be accepted by her family. So it wasn’t until many years later, after reaching the height of her career in finance, that Tandon became in tune with what her soul had been calling out to her all along.

She began rigorous musical training with some of the most prestigious instructors in the world; at one point waking up at 4 a.m. every weekend to drive from New York to Wesleyan for master classes with a Carnatic music professor, returning by 10 a.m. to be home when her daughter awoke.

Reconnecting with her culture through intense study of Indian ragas (melodic modes used in Indian classical music), Tandon created an album composed around a single eight-syllable chant that is over 6,000 years old.

Her growing fan base speaks volumes to the powerful message that she spreads every day in her Facebook postings, and the music that has brought so many together.

In the interview below, Tandon tells The Expeditioner how the quest to “lose herself” has been her greatest accomplishment yet.

The Expeditioner: As a distinguished and prominent leader in the financial sector, you have had the opportunity to travel to many international destinations. Have any of these experiences influenced your music in a particular way?

Tandon: My musical tastes and influences have always been far ranging; I hear music everywhere, in everything, every moment — consciously and unconsciously.

I am influenced by everything from Greek and Middle Eastern musicians like Demis Roussos, Nana Mouskouri, Oom Khatoum, to French musicians like Enrico Macias, to Brazilian artists like Gal Costa, Daniela Mercury, Carnaval sambas, Caetano Veloso and full circle back to classical Indian musicians such as Jasraj, Sahasrabuddhe, MS Subbalakshmi, Vijay Kichlu, T Viswanathan, and of course my master teacher Pandit Girish Wazalwar.

This inevitably influences my music. For example, in track 8 [of Soul Call], I was only hearing guitars and violins. I was thinking of Malaguena and “Hava Nagila” and various other songs as I was composing in this classically rigorous Indian scale.

The Expeditioner: You once said that “music breaks boundaries easier than words.” It is apparent, by simply viewing the comments from your fans on the Soul Chants Facebook page, that your album, entitled Soul Call, has reached an international audience on a very deep level. In what ways do you believe music to be the impetus for change among the international community?

Tandon: Music penetrates your deepest levels in most unconscious ways and all defenses crumble without one even knowing they have. When people can express their own joy through music, they radiate it all around them and the circle of love expands. That is what has happened on our Facebook page. From a trickle a few weeks ago to 32,000 plus fans with such profound expressions of their experiences.

The Expeditioner: What is the most rewarding part of hearing such positive feedback from people all over the world?

Tandon: I feel lucky to be a small part of each person’s journey. I feel tears well up every time I read the hundreds of e-mails from so many people. There has been an outpouring of expressions of people’s open, heartfelt feelings — and to me that is what it is all about. I am grateful for the nomination as it expands my circle of love.

The Expeditioner: Your mother, a talented Carnatic classical musician, inspired a love of music within you as a young child, yet you did not choose to follow this passion until much later in life. What rekindled your fervor for music, and how did you decide to pursue your musical talents?

Tandon: About nine years ago I woke up one day when my daughter was starting high school and realized that, though I had reached many measures of business success, I had not connected with my deepest self, my life’s purpose. I went on a journey going back to who I am. I asked myself: What makes me happy? And it struck me that all of my happiest moments in life go back to music.

I needed to pursue my passion for music and share it with everyone. That began my phase as a music seeker where I sought out extraordinary teachers who would give me a rigorous grounding in classical Hindustani music and I have since worked with Pandit Girish Wazalwar, who is my main Guru. I have also worked with a couple of masters, both in India and New York City, often traveling for a few days at a time to India to learn from them.

The Expeditioner: You will be donating all proceeds of Soul Call to benefit organizations in the fields of community building, arts, and spirituality. What prompted you to want to give back to these specific organizations?

Tandon: Again it is part of the broader vision I have of a circle of love, and I want everyone to hear the music. We have just donated or given at cost the CD to many wonderful organizations that are doing work in the areas connecting people, and helping people heal inside. They are far ranging in their specific causes and objectives, but it has been a wonderful journey.

The Expeditioner: The music on your album is a combination of an eight-syllable chant — Om Na Mo Na Ra Ya Na Ya — and classical Indian scales. The syllables of the mantra are vibrations used in an ancient Vedic tradition handed down from generation to generation, believed to have deep healing powers. How has connecting with such a powerful form of music helped you to understand different facets of Indian culture?

Tandon: The eight syllable chant is believed to form a protective armor around the body as the cells go through their regeneration processes, and I have composed it in eight ragas or melodic scales.

I had to connect in this my own research on the texts, and combine it with my rigorous grounding in Carnatic (south Indian) and Hindustani (north Indian) classical music. But I also wanted to make it accessible to all across countries and demographics, so I used simple melodies with contemporary arrangements drawn from all my travels in the world. This allows everyone to sing along and have a shared celebration of music.

The Expeditioner: So what’s next for you, besides a possible GRAMMY and steadily growing fan base?

Tandon: I just finished the recording of my new album that has a lot of international musicians which will be released in a few months, and I keep waking up with so many inspirations. I have hundreds of compositions that literally flood my head, and it is very exciting to give them shape as full blown compositions and arrangements.

I also conduct a community choir for the seniors every week and create new compositions for them — pushing new boundaries in Indian classical music and making it joyful and accessible.

The GRAMMY nomination and my recent work have led to several invitations to collaborate, and I am excited to pursue my brand of global music.

Where now? What next? I live by a two-line quotation from a Sufi mystic named Kabir: “When I was there, the divine was missing; When I left, the divine took over.” My quest is to lose myself.

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Q&A: GRAMMY Nominee Chandrika Krishnamurthy Tandon Speaks From Her Soul appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Much of what we read about travel is packaged into a descriptive personal essay that seeks to sweep the reader to a magical land where cotton candy falls from the sky and unicorns roam undulating; verdant hills leading to an ethereal Eden. And let’s face it, most of us enjoy reading a romantic story about a love affair between the traveler and his quest. We want to turn the pages when he stumbles upon the town flanked with colorful, artisan markets or when he sails, wide-eyed, among fjords — majestic and breathtaking from every angle.

But here at The Expeditioner we do none of that delusional crap — it’s just hard core, report the goods, travel writing. Which is why I bow down to Patrick Smith and his awesome article: “Thailand’s Phi Phi Islands: Beauty and a Bummer.”

In his piece, Smith discusses the countless times he is completely and utterly turned off by the abominable crowds on Phi Phi Don and Maya Bay, despite the gorgeous setting of these  islands. And it’s not just the crowds that bother him: it’s the obnoxious, disrespectful, uncouth people in these crowds that get on his very last, already pinched nerve.

I thought back to my trip to the Phi Phi islands and to other jaunts I have taken in touristy areas of the world that are known for their spectacular settings, and realized I must have forgotten to wipe the rose tint from my Ray-Ban knock-off’s before take-off. In most cases, I was so awe-struck by the unfamiliar beauty of these places that I forgot to take into account how all the hundreds — if not thousands — of people were impacting these natural wonders everyday.

Smith’s brutally honest words made me think: “Has tourism gone too far?” And are we as travelers respecting what’s left of the magic to be seen on Earth, or are we littering, overindulging, and leaving a massive footprint on Mother Nature’s soft hide?

It’s a tough call, but many us know how much it sucks to visit a place such as Maya Bay, and not be able to take a photo of the towering limestone humps without having at least a dozen unwanted faces in the picture. It’s a total letdown that usually spews a thought such as: “Why the hell are there so many people here?” But then again, might we be one of those faces?

[Photo by Jo@net/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post The Tourist Footprint: Are We Ruining Earth’s Natural Wonders? appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Would you fly halfway around the world just for a meal? I suppose if you would, no ordinary experience would do. No, this meal would have to be overwhelming, exploding with flavor and seductive in every bite; to put it simply: it would have to be orgasmic.

I often speak with travelers who admit to fantasizing over a specific gastronomic experience in a foreign land, and if given the opportunity, say they would hop the next flight just for a taste of the perfectly delivered dish.

It’s no wonder that many of us religiously follow Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern, and Mario Batali’s food escapades in different countries: we just simply can’t get enough of seeing the “real deal” being slurped, crunched, and chewed down to the last morsel.

The New York Times also seems to think that there is something to this traveling for food thing, which is why they recently compiled a list of 10 Restaurants Worth a Plane Ride. Although some of these restaurants seem to be a bit snooty and “slightly” expensive, I have little doubt that the food is, at the very least, memorable. Click through for their full list.

Aponiente: El Puerto De Santa María, Spain

Benu: San Francisco

Dinner By Heston Blumenthal: London (opening later this month)

M. Wells: Long Island City, N.Y.

Mirazur: Menton, France

Momofuku: Sydney

Restaurant Andre: Singapore

Restaurate Garzon: Garzon, Uruguay

Tickets: Barcelona, Spain

Willows Inn: Lummi Island, Wash.

[Photo by misocrazy/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Would You Travel Around The World For Food? appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

It’s the time of year when New York City, with its formidable brilliance, becomes softer, intimate; enchanting if you will, and I’ve never felt more grateful to have it at my doorstep. The city seems gentler in December — lights strewn from one avenue to the next exude the warm glow of holiday cheer, savory scents flow from restaurants babbling with vibrant company, stores boast whimsical displays in illuminated technicolor, and the sound of cozy laughter coats the air like a thick, plush blanket.

In December, my favorite pastime is to go on a month-long tour of all the restaurants I have been meaning to eat at throughout the year. These jaunts are the perfect way to celebrate the season as the simple pleasure of sitting around a hearty meal with loved ones can’t be topped. It’s a luxury I take for granted. Friends, family, elegant cuisine, and the advantage of being able to enjoy it all whenever it feels right. Yet the joy and glamor that will reign in the city during the next two months makes all the sadness in the world stick out like a bruised lip.

And although kindred spirits will join together to help others in need during this holiday season, there are still many who will deal with unforgiving circumstances, believing that hope abandoned them long ago. In her recent article, Havana’s Family-Run Restaurants, Michelle Jana Chan of the Financial Times, quickly discovers how famine has eliminated feast in most of Cuba.

For years now, most residents have lived on rations, making food a necessity and little more. “Several people told me they had given up caring about the taste of what they eat,” writes Chan. She goes on to quote the words of her taxi driver: “The fruit is ugly, the vegetables dirty and the meat is covered in flies. You need to spend six months here to understand the situation, not a few days.”

During her journey, Chan is disheartened by the scanty city and its outskirts, from the barren bodegas, to the paltry farmland, to the skinny frames and drawn faces of people by the roadside. But among the strife, Chan finds a silver lining in the form of  paladares, or family-run restaurants.

After the fall of the Soviet Union in the mid-’90s, the Cuban economy collapsed, prompting Fidel Castro to open the country’s doors to tourism. He allowed the paladares to offer meals to tourists so long as the small restaurants agreed to abide by the conditional terms ordered by the government. And in the midst of despair, the comfort of a good meal refused to be left behind by determined families who dared to run these inventive eateries.

The story of the paladares is one of an unyielding hope for happiness and the quest to find a better way. It is a lesson for the world that is quickly absorbed, especially during a time of year when most are counting their blessings. And I am reminded, when walking the glimmering streets of New York, that it is the spirit of a place that makes it come to life: no matter the hardships or brilliance, hope can always be found in those who believe in it, and in the simple comforts that we savor as precious luxuries.

[Photo by nikkiprice/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post The Spirit Of Havana: From Rations To Restaurants appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Any society where people greet one another by asking “Have you eaten yet?” is my kind of place. It’s a simple question that says quite a bit about a culture and its savory way of life. Food is just one of those magical things that bind people in the plainest and most complex of ways—an unspoken connection of sensory overload that speaks volumes in an otherwise non-connected situation.

Travel and food have always been the links to many of the people I have met and befriended—whether it was feasting on casado with strangers at a local soda (small restaurant) in Costa Rica, or snacking on biltong under the dim light of a boma in South Africa, food kindled conversation and sparked the beginnings of transcontinental friendships.

On the other hand, foreign fare can sometimes be quite intimidating to the untrained palate often creating that consuming panic that blasts “I hope I don’t die from eating this” through one’s brainwaves. Pungent smells, spicy sauces, bowls of braised lard, man’s best friend (read: dog) hotpot, and salted insects, could test the true gusto of any food-fiend traveler. There are many places around the world where daring gastronomes can tempt and torture their palates, but none like the great Republic of China to experiment with the odd and unusual, devilish yet delectable, and often synthesized cuisine.

Lonely Planet invites readers to “Come on a Tasty Tour of China” in their online China Travel Information and Travel Guide. The article features several regions and “the most staggering assortment of lovingly prepared culinary delights imaginable; a taste sensation never to be forgotten.” Among the many interesting dishes mentioned is the ever-popular Peking Duck, but probably not the way you’ve tasted it here in the States. The article points out that “Peking Duck is similar to the crispy duck and pancakes you find on menus in the West, only more care is taken to keep the duck meat from turning dry, resulting in a far juicier and more flavorsome dish.” The famous favorite began as a treat for royalty, but has since trickled into many of the local eateries in Beijing.

Other unusual bites mentioned include: barbecued scorpions, hongshao rou (braised pork belly), lamb kebabs and, yes, hard to swallow but true—dog meat hotpot.  The most interesting aspect of most of these dishes is the unique flare of fused ingredients derived from a mix of foreign cultures. Which brings me back to the quintessential question examined earlier in this post: “Have you eaten yet?” I would say, yes, we as a world have eaten, and shared, and influenced one another in the most satisfying of ways; we have passed on the best (and maybe worst) of who we are, one unfamiliar bite at a time.

[Photo by avlxyz/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Have You Eaten Yet? appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

The problem with flying is that nothing about it seems, well, logical. The prospect of stuffing oneself into a combustible, steel contraption that launches into a groundless abyss can be quite daunting and almost absurd. But yet we do it, some of us once a year, others, every six months or so, and then there are those who can tell you what’s on the menu — or more appropriately the “snack list” if you’re flying a U.S. airline — because “16F” has become their second residence.

If you are reading this fascinating post you are most likely a traveler, or at the very least someone who aspires to travel. Unfortunately, in many cases, there is no escaping a rendezvous with the big, bad flying machine if the urge to explore far beyond the confines of the neighborhood park exists, so we might as well just embrace the turbulence, crappy food, floating snot molecules,  busted TV screens and “reclining” seats, and try to make the flight as pleasant as possible.

ABC News recently listed some flight survival tips for lengthy travel. As someone who has flown for 19 hours straight, I can tell you that there is a terrible difference between annoying, short flights and the kind of flight where you’re popping baby aspirin to ward off deep-vein thrombosis. So, as these tips can be helpful to all travelers, those planning half-way rtw ventures should pay special attention.

I won’t bore you with the common sense stuff like packing travel-size versions of necessary liquid carry-on items such as moisturizers, hand sanitizer, throat spray, and Aqua Net (yes, some people still find this a necessity), but I will remind you to place each item in a plastic bag as so not to disrupt the flow of traffic through security checks. (You don’t want to cause a back up at the conveyor belt as the security guard jolts your bag back and forth through the x-ray scanner searching for the suspicious looking bottle of nail polish.)

If you do forget to follow the Transportation Security Administration’s carry-on guidelines and end-up getting frisked, you may need some Xanax before take-off. Which leads me to another important flight survival tip: bring lots of medicine. There are a plethora of things that can irritate your body while flying great distances. Indigestion is a very common, very uncomfortable, very obnoxious (if you know what I mean) thing to have. Medically speaking, as quoted from my doctor, I.B. Kurin, “gases in the abdomen tend to expand when pressure drops” so bring something to soothe this issue for your sake, and the sake of those around you. Ciproflaxin is also good to have just in case you come in contact with any nasty bacterial infections; it will require a prescription, so think ahead.

Nowadays most of us have some sort of ADHD, due to overexposure of constant stimulation, so it is important to bring what I call “pastimers”: books, gadgets, crosswords, crochet materials, and coloring books (for the kids, that is). Walk around as much as possible and do 15-20 heel raises every hour when sitting. Snack on some healthy, non-perishable food that you packed at home throughout the flight, washing it down with lots of non-caffeinated—non alcoholic—liquid.

Lastly, go to any and all lengths to avoid sitting in the last row next to the restrooms, otherwise I can assure you that rest will not be a part of your journey. The most high tech of pillows, eye covers and noise-canceling headphones will not be able to save you from the wretched fumes and constant rumble of flushing. The article recommends using SeatGuru to figure out the “seatmap” of your flight before purchasing your tickets. And always remember it could be worse. You could not be flying at all, still stuck at the park with your dog, stepping in the same goopy gum you always manage to tread over. So suck it up, fasten your seat-belt and pop some TUMS —you’re off to see the world.

[Photo by: JorgeBrazil/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post A “How To” On Surviving Long Flights appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

By Maria Russo

In her latest book, “Walnut Wine & Truffle Groves, Culinary Adventures in the Dordogne,” Kimberley Lovato explores the medieval towns, bucolic countryside, and remote villages of this southwest region of France through the fascinating heritage of its people, and the local cuisine that has kept century-old traditions alive and well.

The book’s vivid photos, intimate stories, and pages of recipes, gives it a fresh, more immersed approach to travel writing by escorting the reader on an adventure through the senses. Whether it’s admiring the spectacular Château de Beynac, hearing the cacophonous sounds of the market as vendors prepare for the day ahead, or tasting warm, duck confit in the home of a local chef, Lovato paints a tangible picture that is deliberately enticing. The following is an interview with Lovato about her personal encounters in the Dordogne, and the inspiration behind the book’s vibrant pages.

The Expeditioner: The layout of “Walnut Wine & Truffle Groves” is very unique. It blends pages of photographs, local recipes, and intimate stories about the people of the Dordogne region. What inspired you to create a culinary travel book?

Kimberley Lovato: The book was inspired by Chef Laura Schmalhorst and her culinary tour company Vagabond Gourmet. I was on assignment during her inaugural launch in the Dordogne and I was struck by her passion for ensuring each guest experienced the region through the food, not just by eating it (though that was a bonus too), but also by visiting the markets, the farms, meeting the local cheese makers and vintners, exchanging recipes, and mixing their stories and histories into every meal. This idea developed into “Walnut Wine & Truffle Groves” and it’s a concept that is unique among travel and cookbooks. Add in some gorgeous images by award winning photographer Lou Lesko and our book really shines. I can’t think of another one like it.

The Expeditioner: The personal accounts in the book really seem to connect readers to the very essence of the culture in Dordogne. How did your experiences with chefs, winemakers, hoteliers, and old friends affect the way you came to understand the true lifestyle of the people of Dordogne?

Kimberley Lovato: I have always been enamored with France, but I fell in love with the Dordogne. It’s a place that is a part of me and a place where I feel welcomed “home” each time I return. While the castles and the restaurants and the tourist sites were worthy, they only presented a two dimensional picture of the place. It was the people who lived behind the doors, and who graciously opened their homes to me, that gave the Dordogne life and texture, as well as the context in which I could present a different side of travel that might not be visible to a casual visitor.

The people of the Dordogne are very generous and love to wax lyrical about the region. And they are great raconteurs whose tales divulge small details, anecdotes and expressions that aid in the understanding of the life and culture in the Dordogne. Getting to know them personally was essential.

The Expeditioner: In the book you discuss the markets worth visiting in many of the smaller, “out-of-the-way” towns. How did you go about finding some of these remote locations and what advice would you give to travelers looking to explore off-the-map places?

Kimberley Lovato: I love to get lost and getting lost was often our goal while researching this book. Seriously.  Sometimes we would be on a set path and we’d pass a sign that said “honey” or “walnut farm,” and we’d just deviate. Getting lost has its benefits and it’s a tactic I don’t mind recommending. But if time doesn’t allow you to employ this strategy, I would suggest asking a local. Ask the fruit vendor at one market where he likes to shop, or eat, or what other markets he attends; ask the inn owner where she buys her bread or where she goes for a great meal. This phenomenon of news travelling — de bouche à l’oreille as they say in French, meaning from mouth to ear — is alive and well in the Dordogne and was the source of many, if not most, of our “out-of-the-way” finds.

The Expeditioner: On to one of my favorite subjects discussed in the book: the walnut wine. It seems that this particular aperitif is served with most meals, on most occasions, and carries an intricate piece of Dordogne history in its roots. When is the ideal time to visit some of the region’s walnut wineries, and what suggestions could you offer visitors who may want to learn more about the wine-making process, and even enjoy a tasting or two?

Kimberley Lovato: The interesting thing about walnut wine is that you can’t go to a winery to find it; you have to go to a walnut farm or a private home. It’s a drink that is predominantly homemade and, yes, it is the aperitif of choice at local tables and has been made in the Dordogne by families for generations, thanks to the abundance of walnut trees in the region. Luckily, there are places where visitors can try walnut wine, and I highly recommend the local  Fermes Auberges, or Farmhouse Inns  (pg. 170). These are family run restaurants, and sometimes inns, where ingredients are grown and raised on the property, the farm.  The food is excellent, authentic and a good value. Locals frequent these inns, and smart visitors find them too.

It’s the family/owners that cook and serve the meals and there is always some homemade walnut wine served. These farmhouse inns are found all over the Dordogne, usually in remote settings, and most are open year round. Often there is just a simple sign nailed to a tree that leads the way to a ferme auberge. Visitors could easily plan their days around lunch at one of these farms. I say lunch because, from personal experience, you’ll  probably eat so much that you’ll want a few hours of activity after the meal.

The Expeditioner: I have yet to try making any of the recipes in the book, but they all look sinfully tempting. How did you go about choosing recipes that truly reflect the region’s cuisine?

Kimberley Lovato: Well some recipes were just mandatory. I mean you can’t write a book about the Dordogne and not include duck confit (pg. 46),  pommes Sarladaise (pg. 48),  l’Enchaud Perigourdine (pg 162), walnut wine (pg. 190), and  some kind of foie gras (pg. 185). These are staples you’ll find in just about every restaurant and home kitchen in the region. But Chef Laura Schmalhorst is really a creative talent and had been traveling to the region for 10 years before I met her. She already had a good outline of which  “standard” recipes we should include and then created twists on some of the traditional dishes or  created new dishes using local ingredients.

For example her potato salad (pg. 163) to accompany the L’Enchaud Perigourdine calls for walnut vinaigrette as the mixer and infuses a unique and local flavor (walnuts) into an otherwise boring dish. A large percentage of the recipes we found simply by asking for a popular or old family recipe. These are the recipes that really make the book stand out, and they often came with interesting or heartwarming stories or customs. One of my favorites is on page 98, a guinea hen recipe from Reine Roches, a matriarch of a five-generation deep winery. This is not a Dordogne recipe you’d find in a restaurant but it was a dish Madame Roches made for her family on special occasions. I still recall the joy she took in recounting the recipe to us, and the gleam in her grandson’s eye at recalling the delicious family meals.

The Expeditioner: Travel and food seem to have the perfect marriage. Do you think your book has sparked a new trend in travel writing, where the place becomes more about the relationships among people and, the food that brings them together?

Kimberley Lovato: I think writers and savvy travelers already recognize the symbiotic relationship between food and experiential travel, but I would love to see more writing that uses food and dining as the vehicles that bring people and personalities onto the pages. Who better to shed light on the place you are visiting than the people who live and work there? This was really the impetus of our book.

Daniele (Chapter 1) said something when we first met her and it stays with me today. She said that cooking and eating are about much more than just the food; that much is revealed about a person and a place, a history and a culture, when you cook with them, sit around a table and share a meal and a bottle of local wine with them, and laugh together over a few stories. This is true of anyplace you go, and I do suspect the trend in travel and in travel writing will continue on this trajectory of experiencing a place rather than just visiting it. And to really experience a place I believe you need to meet and eat.

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Q&A: A Taste Of The Dordogne With Author Kimberley Lovato appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

As a wine enthusiast I wait anxiously for autumn to arrive. The crisp, pleasant weather slowly transforms the landscape into a magnificent palette of auburn, jade, and gold, and ripens the vines to picking perfection. Fortunately, I can spend most weekends during the season admiring these vistas while getting merry at tastings offered at the local wineries.

And as the grape harvests carry on in many places in the Northern Hemisphere, Sardinia, is no exception. Flaunting its picturesque beaches, lack of crowds, and fresh wines, this tiny island has quite a bit to offer over the next few months.

According to a recent article in The Wall Street Journal,  October is one of the best times to travel to Sardinia as the region resorts back to its slow pace and “ancient ways.”  The Northern region, known as Gallura, is home to the Cannonau red grape and the Vermentino white grape. “The ubiquitous granite of the Gallura region confers a flinty back-bite on this aromatic fruity and fresh white wine. This flintiness combined with the grape’s natural freshness, together with the correctly created alcoholic level, results in a wine which is perfectly balanced,” remarks Jessica Ball, a Master Sommelier of the Associazione Italiana Sommelier, in the article.

At Vigne Surrau, a winery owned by the Arzachena family, approximately 10-minutes away from Porto Cervo, cellar tours have commenced and, tastings are underway. Visitors can expect to have a more intimate experience with the vintners and staff while exploring the grounds, and the onsite art gallery featuring Sardinian artists.

And lest we not forget that after a day of touring vineyards one can also relax on one of the many stunning beaches on Sardinia’s coastline. October is the perfect time to swim, sail, and fish around Costa Smeralda, 55-kilometers of rocky shores located in the northeastern region. The options for enjoying the natural beauty and “fruits” of the land are as plentiful as the waters that surround Sardinia. And the best part is that you don’t have to choose; you can have your wine, and drink it too.

[Photo by: ReneeSilverman/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post The Vineyards Of Sardinia appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Sydney, in many ways exudes the vibe that sort of says: “I’m the best city in Australia.” With its almost-perfect weather, sexy beaches, magnificent harbor, and the Opera House that seems to top it all off like a fluffy cloud of whipped cream atop an ice cream sundae — who wouldn’t want to pencil it in their itinerary?

It has been said that Sydney is just a pretty face compared to its eclectic sisters, Melbourne, and Brisbane, but it turns out that this lavish city’s access to water gives it a charm all its own. In a recent article in the Daily Telegraph, Cameron Wilson explores Sydney through the eyes of its spectacular harbor. His local journey begins with a trip to Campbell’s Cove where he boards the Southern Swan, a tall, Danish built vessel, for a two-hour cruise (with drinks and barbecue) around the harbor. Wilson expresses his enjoyment of sailing on the smooth waters abutting the Quay and the many interesting experiences one can have:

There are myriad options for getting out on the water in Sydney, from tours that focus on colonial history to genteel dining cruises and hair-raising jet boats, but for simple elegance, a traditional three-masted tall ship is hard to beat. The moment the skipper cuts the engines and the crew hoists sail, the only noises we hear are creaking timbers and the gentle slosh of waves against the bow.

Gliding on the SuperCat (a ferry that navigates the harbor) offers spectacular views of the Opera House, Botanic Gardens, “coves bulging with yachts, tiny secret beaches, odd little lighthouses and beacons and the world’s most expensive waterfront homes.”  (This is the part where you close your eyes and pretend you’re there, wind in your hair, on a warm, sunny day enjoying the vistas, and feeling the “tingly warm” sensation one feels when falling into a blissful state of contentment.)

And there is food. Good food (according to Wilson). Not on the harbor, as those by the water are pocket-burning expensive, but travel 20-minutes by bus from the Quay, and you will find King Street, Newtown. A lively area packed with great music venues, and small eateries; this is where travelers can get a sense of the funkier, more lax side of Sydney. And while heading back,  if you’re craving one last glamorous rendezvous,  you can be pretty sure that the sassy side of the city will be waiting, glistening in its perfect way for you to take one last ride around the harbor.

[Photo by: Wilf2/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Exploring Sydney’s Sassy Harbor appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Many die-hard travelers, at one time or another, have dreamed about volunteering in a small village in some remote region of the planet. The prospects for such a journey could seem extremely promising for young, motivated spirits. Heck, what could be better than living abroad for an extended period of time, while at the same time changing the world, and unlocking endless possibilities for their future?  The list of reasons why such a trip offers valuable experiences could surely keep one listening for as long as it would take to reach a rural community in Mali, but as sensible travelers, we should ask ourselves: would we be in it for the right reasons?

In a recent article, BootsnAll lists five reasons why not to join the Peace Corps, asking people to examine their motives before committing to the intense program. Avid travelers who consider joining often mistake the volunteer job for a chance to travel in and around the region they are stationed in, when in fact the opportunity for exploration is minimal. The article points out: “To be effective, volunteers must integrate into their communities, adapt to new cultures and become familiar with customs and traditions. This means that when the job ends, the hard work of getting to know a place and its people really begins. Only volunteers who stay at sites and dedicate time and effort to cultivating relationships actually succeed.” And if there are opportunities to travel, getting around can be harrowing, requiring days of trekking and bunking in third-world conditions just to reach one destination.

We’ve all considered partaking in something we’ve had questionable interest in just to enhance our credentials or to mention the experience on some fancy interview. The fact of the matter is, yes, joining the Peace Corps, could help you brush up on a language you took in college, (the chances of being placed somewhere without already being semi-fluent is slim to none) and would look impressive to most employers, but can you face the reality of being immersed for two years in a job that will demand every ounce of your soul? If you can honestly say that you are cut out to serve others on a daily basis while enduring harsh living conditions, then go for it!

Traveling somewhere and volunteering in a place offers completely different experiences. Most travelers create their own itineraries and choose the level of comfort they wish to stay in. If there are aspects of a destination that are unappealing or boring, you have the option to walk away and find something better to do.  This is not the case with volunteering. Instead, it is a commitment for those who understand that they have been called to do a job where they will have a small but powerful affect on the lives they touch. As the article notes, “It may be impossible to change the world, but living in a tiny corner of it is a reminder that it is possible to change individuals, circumstances and ourselves.”

[Photo by PolandMFA/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Thinking of Joining The Peace Corps? Think Again appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

Tibet’s history is a complicated story of spirituality, invasion, conquest, and persecution. Once a Buddhist nation governed by the Dalai Lama, Tibet’s religious identity was brutally stripped away in 1951 when Chinese troops forcibly occupied the region, destroying monasteries and killing thousands of civilians.

In 1959 the Dalai Lama fled Lhasa and settled under the security of neighboring India where he continues to peacefully protest the Chinese occupation of his beloved homeland. Today, Tibetans are prohibited from practicing Buddhism and forbidden to hold or display any idolatry of the Dalai Lama. Travelers must also follow strict laws that have been put in place by the Chinese government, keeping in mind that pictures of the Lama and maps showing Tibet as an independent nation are prohibited.

Michael J. Ybarra witnessed the consequences of traveling with banned paraphernalia while reporting for The Wall Street Journal during his five-day trip from Kathmandu, Nepal to Lhasa — now regarded as the administrative capital of the Tibet Autonomous Region in the People’s Republic of China. Ybarra’s journey led him across the Friendship Highway, the highest paved road in the world, and the only one with a spectacular view of Mount Everest. His bus trip averaged  above 11,800 feet, with three passes topping 16,000 feet.

“At the border we crossed the Friendship Bridge into Tibet — China’s idea of friendship apparently requiring you to leave one bus, then hike uphill for half an hour to another. Not to mention confiscating your guidebook. China bans Lonely Planet guides because of a map representing Tibet as a separate country,”  recalls Ybarra. He also points out that several people in his group (China only allows individuals to travel to Tibet with tour groups, limiting the amount of time that can be spent in the region) had to rip out or hide any books with photos of the Dalai Lama so that the guides would not be taken away.

Unfortunately, on the day his bus crossed through Lalungla — a pass at 16,400 feet that offers views of five of the world’s tallest mountains including Everest — Ybarra was unable to get a glimpse of the giants due to cloudy weather. The visit to Lhasa was also disheartening as the sprawling city’s turbulent past was apparent in the stringent Chinese troops that surrounded the Jokhang Temple, Tibet’s most revered shrine.

After losing his way on a muddled path to see the Sera monastery, Ybarra felt a glimmer of hope for the fate of Tibet when he was redirected by a woman whom he believed to be his personal “Bodhisattvas,” or Buddhas who have attained enlightenment but opt to stay on earth to help others.

The journey ended on a surprising note when Ybarra finally saw Everest from a first-class seat he snuck into on his flight leaving Lhasa. “And there it was: Just a bump on a ridge—but what a ridge. Everest and its satellite peaks rose above a sea of clouds like an island, into a cobalt blue sky, a plume of snow blowing off its summit like a flag. Its bulk was impressive. I began to look for climbing lines . . . Then I got kicked out of the seat. It seemed a fitting departure from Tibet.”

[Photo by Stevehicks/Flickr]

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post The Road To Tibet: Crossing The Friendship Highway appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

I can still remember the freezing January mornings when I would run into the local deli before heading to school, salivating at the thought of getting my hands on the only food that would begin my day on a good note. I would run past the line of people waiting for a steaming cup of coffee, and head straight for the food counter. Ordering was not necessary as my friends at the grill station knew instinctively to pull one warm pork roll — a sandwich of taylor-ham and cheese — from behind the glass window and pass me the soft, round, foil-enveloped goodness.

The highly caloric sandwich was a favorite snack of my friends and I, and a coveted comfort food in the area of New Jersey I grew up in. It was certainly no Eric Ripert creation, but nonetheless, it was a food that brought enjoyment in the simplest of settings, at any time of the day.

Approximately 8,000 miles away, in Hue, Vietnam, people are indulging in their version of pork rolls known as banh beo. In a recent article in the Wall Street Journal, Jon Krich points out that banh beo — a thin, round dough of powdered rice and manioc (cassava), accompanied by side dishes of rice flour, fish sauce and shrimp meat — is Hue’s “most popular between-meals treat.”

Banh beo loosely translates to “water fern cake,” appropriately named for its resemblance to a water lily found at the surface of many ponds. The dish is served next to banana leaves, a tradition suggesting that its lineage traces back to the once dominate Cham culture of Central Vietnam. If that is indeed the case, banh beo would have been considered an “imperial” food at the time, rather than the casual snack it is today.

The simple dish can be found in the humblest of establishments, many of which remain true to the food’s street food roots, offering only a small table or a few scattered stools for its customers. “And, even though the banh beo will be what’s advertised on the signboard or awning, the dish — usually served a dozen at a time — often is the centerpiece for an array of rolls and buns, available almost any time of the day, perfect for breakfast or late-night after-drinks nibbling,” recalls Krich.

Similar to the talyor ham sandwich phenomenon and its array of enhancers — eggs, ketchup, and fried potatoes — banh beo has its own delectable renditions.  Sometimes it is topped with fried shallots, or a lump of pork fat, or for those who say “bring on the carbs!” a gooey rice concoction grilled in a banana leaf will satisfy almost any craving.

No matter how you like your banh beo the beauty of it remains the same: a simple food served in a simple setting that for many has been a staple since childhood.

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Vietnamese Comfort Food: Snacking On Banh Beo In Hue appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

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 Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post Walking On The Wild Side: Zambia’s Undiscovered North appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

I will be honest: the sound of the word “lake” causes an instant yawn reflex. Mention “beach” or “miles of sand and sea,” and you’ve caught my attention for the next hour. As a seasoned traveler, it is slightly embarrassing to admit that I almost always search for the perfect seascape to relax and unwind during the last few days of my journey, ignoring the many other beautiful bodies of water to be discovered. It seems that I have foolishly undermined the prospect of a lake being a part of a stunning natural landscape inundated with endless possibilities for adventure and relaxation alike. It was not until I read this captivating article in the Wall Street Journal about Lake Atitlán, that I realized how immensely intriguing this elusive loch in Guatemala truly is.

Once referred to as “the most beautiful lake in the world” by English writer Alex Huxley, Lake Atitlán has become a popular destination for luxury travelers “. . . a quiet oasis in a country known for roughing it with a backpack. It also offers something typical posh destinations don’t; the chance to rub elbows with a native culture of the highlands Maya, as much of a draw as the dramatic setting,” reports the Journal.

Two luxury lodges situated above Lake Atitlán provide comfortable accommodations in a pristine setting. Casa Palopó, a nine room boutique hotel, offers sweeping views, spacious accommodations, and international cuisine. Surrounded by Tzantizotz Nature Reserve, Laguna Lodge Eco-Resort is the perfect spot for travelers looking to explore the delicate ecosystems in the region. The lodge is set on 60 acres of lush foliage and offers rappelling, rock climbing, and cliff jumping along the mountain trails.

Just a few miles away from the two resorts, several distinct Indian villages sit at the lake’s edge, existing just as they have for hundreds of years. The small communities can be reached by private boat — forty dollars for the day — or by public transportation.  A trip through the crowded streets of Santiago de Atitlán reveals a thriving textile industry world-renowned for the “intricate designs and natural dyes” used in creating the vibrant garments. The hand-woven clothing is also worn by villagers; specific patterns and colors indicating the town in which each individual resides.

A stroll to Iglesia Parroquial Santiago Apóstol sheds light on a somber history.  A small museum erected in the parish hall honors an American missionary who was killed by death squads in 1981. A beloved member of the community, Father Stanley Francis Rother’s heart and blood is preserved here in honor of his benevolent service to the Mayan community. Visitors can also go on a guided search for Maximón, “a Mayan trickster god whose statue bounces between houses of local villagers throughout the year.” The search usually ends with an impromptu lesson in religious traditions in the home of the villager who has current possession of the statue.

And at the end of the day you don’t have to return to a stiff bunk and cold showers — if that is not your cup of tea of course — but instead enjoy relatively inexpensive luxury on the shores of a lake that seem to match some the most beautiful beaches the world over.

By Maria Russo

About the Author

Maria Russo is a freelance writer who loves natural wonders, good eats, ethical travel, and boutique hotels. Her work has appeared on the Huffington Post, USA Today.com, People.com and A Luxury Travel Blog, among others.

When Maria is not writing for her all-time favorite site (that would be The Expeditioner), she spends her time blogging about foreign jaunts and delectable food experiences for her site: Memoirs of a Travel & Food Addict. She is also up to no good on Twitter (@traveladdictgrl, @expedmaria).

The post A Perfect Marriage Of Luxury And Culture At Lake Atitlan appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.