Evolution And Realization

My apologies for the lack of Blog entries in the past couple of days (or is it weeks now?); life back in Greater New York has been crazy -- but in a good way. Rather than moping around with nothing to do feeling depressed that I'm not off climbing a mountain or something, I've been more than occupied with a lot of projects, and not in a corporate structured nine-to-five kind of way either. There's been more than enough stuff for me to do these past couple of weeks since DAY 503 -- most of them requiring me to wear the hat of a designer, not the hat of a writer -- but it is necessary as it pays the bills. If this keeps up, I'll be ready to go around the world again in no time, with a whole new Blog.

As I said before, life back home is pretty much the way it was back in 2003, which, at least for me, wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Freelance projects, my hobbies, following leads, cycling, parties, happy hours, and pooping (sans diarrhea) are all a part of the norm, just like before I left. I stated in a previous entry that it doesn't feel like The Global Trip 2 changed or transformed me at all; I'm still the same guy as I left in October 2003 -- and everybody here seems to agree. "Yeah, you're exactly the same," said Moelicious.

"You're the same," my friend Heide said. "Those guys [on the Blog who only know you from the Blog] don't know you the way we do."

Fellow RTW traveler and Blogreader PC (a.k.a. Claudia), who had gone around the world in twelve months and had experienced "Re-Entry Syndrome" before me, told me that depression would probably sink in during my fourth or fifth week, although everybody's different. I am currently writing this in my fourth week back, and I'm happy to report that depression really hasn't sunk in -- except for perhaps the gradual reversion to teen angst from being a thirty-year-old single guy living at his parents in the suburbs to pay off credit cards. (Actually, it wouldn't be so bad if only the house was accessible to a subway station, and if saying the phrase "living with my parents in New Jersey" actually scored brownie points in the NYC dating scene. [It's the "New Jersey" part that's the turn off.])

Perhaps this supposed "Re-Entry Syndrome" hasn't sunk into my mind because I'm not one to dwell on the past. "[You don't feel it because] you only live in The Now," my friend Allan said at the DAY 503 party, after having a more than a couple of beers.

"You know," I told him. "That's it! That's it exactly. You hit it right on the head. That's it exactly. You hit it right on the head." (I'd been drinking too.)

I guess on a subconscious level, before, during, and after The Trip, I've strived to live life in "The Now," not knowing what the next day will bring, as much as I can. Thankfully, many times, that "next day" usually involves beer.

TO BE FAIR TO THOSE BLOGREADERS who say that I must be a changed person after such a big worldly experience, I'll admit that I'm not completely and utterly the same. While I'm still basically the same person, The Trip has made me wiser and has evolved my personality and lifestyle, in more ways than one:

1. PATIENCE IS A BIGGER VIRTUE. A lot of people back in the New York area are surprised to hear anecdotes about when I get angry at something. "Erik, you can't get angry. I can't picture you mad at all for anything," they'd say. My parents would probably disagree with that -- they've seen it all through the years -- but perhaps that's just a result of the intrinsic teen angst in all of us.

Generally speaking, over time I've built up my tolerance for discomfort and waiting -- a definite must-have for anyone planning to go backpacking -- and it's true; I don't often get angry since I try not to "sweat the small stuff" as they say. (Everything is small stuff.) I'll have to say that The Trip has only forced me to be even more tolerant and patient than before. I remember being in Baños, Ecuador in the beginning of my trip, trying to decide whether or not to take a bus to a town three hours away or one five hours away, and I opted for the former because, Five hours? That's so long!

Of course over time, I had no choice but to take longer and longer rides and ultimately just got used to them. Twenty-five hours to Rio? Eh, sure, whatever. In the end, my longest overland transit time in one leg was over thirty-three hours, on a train across Siberia. Thirty three? Feh.

One thing I have learned on this trip is that most of the world is more patient than the West. Most countries joke about their lack of punctuality by saying things run on their nationality's time -- i.e. African Time, Filipino Time, Bolivian Time, Indian Time -- and all of these "times" are generally 30-60 minutes later than the time actually stated. Buses don't leave at 3 p.m., they leave 3:30ish.

It got me thinking. From what I've seen, there are more people in the world that run by this other "time" than people who are "on-time." Which means that Westerners are actually the odd ones out; everyone else in the world is more laid back with a sort of simpler philosophy on Life, knowing that Stuff will get done eventually, so what's the rush? In the end, I've learned that it's the West that is just uptight about a lot of things, like schedules, relationships, and diets. It's no wonder so many are on Prozac.

2. MORE CIRCLES. Back in the New York area, I have many friends, but in different circles that don't necessary clique together; with my eclectic upbringing -- I was raised Catholic in a Filipino household in a pre-dominantly Jewish town, and hung out with Jamaicans, Hispanics, Indians, Italians, Jews, Asians, and this one Iranian kid -- I have acquaintances from many walks of life. It's funny; in a recent Chris Rock stand-up show I saw on HBO (recent for me at least), he says "You'll never meet a guy who likes both Seinfeld and the Wu-Tang Clan," -- but as soon as I heard that, I thought, But hey, that's ME.

Some friends I have go as far as to say that I'm "the nucleus" that brings people together. Now I don't know about that -- it's beer that is the real nucleus -- all I know is that most of my free time has been spent bouncing from friend to friend having one-on-ones since I didn't have time for it during the DAY 503 party. Four weeks later since that night, I've spent quality time with most of my old friends at least once -- drinking at Tracy J's, meeting up for coffee, "doing lunch," playing video games, watching Conan O'Brien live and Chappelle's Show from bit torrents -- but it hasn't stopped there. The Trip has only expanded my circles and created new ones; since DAY 503, I've met even more Blogreaders that I didn't know beforehand: Hanalei, Stephanie, Dan (of NeverBeComplete.com, in town for a layover on his own global trip), and SBR-turned-latecomer commenter RachelJC, a recent east coast transplant from Oregon who had relocated to the NYC area in Jersey City (or, as she playfully refers to it as, "The J.C."). Concurrently, my e-correspondence has broadened to more places in the world -- Siberia, Japan, Singapore, Bangkok, and Canada to name a few, as well as more of the states in the U.S.A. In turn, I feel more connected to the world than I've ever been, which is a really good thing. It'd be cliché to say "It's a small world after all," so I won't. Oh wait, I just did.

3. JADED. Going in on this trip, I remember being excited about the world, about seeing new places that I'd only heard about on Discovery, National Geographic, Michael Palin's travel shows, Globe Trekker, and The Amazing Race. The first half of the trip was great, being an impressionable backpacker, taking everything in like a sponge -- but over time everything started looking the same, even across continents. I became churched out, templed out, villaged out, parked out, jungled out, museumed out -- completely and utterly jaded. Some travelers say that once you hit that point it's time to go home so that new places continue to be "special," but this is usually said by Europeans travelers who have the convenience of month or more-long holidays and can go around and explore one country for a while, then another country the next big holiday (with salary). North Americans really don't have this luxury, what with their two weeks vacation and all, and the only way to "see it all" is to do it in one big shot between jobs.

A hackneyed phrase on the backpacker trail when entering a big city is "Eh, it's just another big city." In defense of cities -- I think they are appealing travel destinations as long as they emit a vibe -- I believe you can equally say, "Eh, it's just another small village" about a small village when you've seen as many as I have. For some reason, many little villages look the same, whether it be in South America, Africa, or Asia, all with a hardware stand, a fruit and veg market, a place that resells clothes from the Salvation Army -- all under corrugated tin roofs. In the end, the urban scene, the rural scene, and everything in between has homogenized into one big blur in my head.

As awful as this sounds, I have found some pluses in being jaded. For one, it's sort of cool to have seen it all and not be afraid of "exotic" things, sort of like when Indiana Jones meets the villagers in The Temple Of Doom and isn't phased by being served bugs to eat. Been there, done that. Another advantage to being jaded is the fact that I can finally see travel writing from the mind of travel editors, who are usually inundated with submissions from aspiring travel writers who just write about how impressed they are about something "new" -- when in reality, it is not new. From what I've learned in panel discussions, travel editors are jaded too and every destination has been written to death already, no matter how remote. The key to writing a viable story for publication is to write for the jaded mind, which in turn, makes the piece more engaging.

But perhaps the biggest advantage to being jaded is the realization of the universal themes of humanity. If I am jaded because everything just looks the same to me, regardless of location on the globe, then I've definitely witnessed for myself, and made the self-discovery that we, as human beings, are all connected to each other. Generally speaking, humanity and civilization has evolved in different places thousands of miles away from each other in a similar manner, regardless of religion or race. In the end, we can only realize that we are all one people and it's a small world after all. (Oops, I said it again.)

ANYWAY, THAT'S ALL I HAVE TO REPORT on the Blog for the time being. I'll end this entry now since I should really get back to my work. Besides, I am really just starting to babble things at random like an idiot now, the way most people with Blogs do. I swear, before this trip I said I wouldn't write a Blog until I had something interesting to write about -- a trip around the world, for example -- and now that the trip is over, I think I'm reverting back to that policy, as Blogs are a lot of work when you go into detail the way I do -- and I should really use that time to work on stuff or get to the next level of Metal Gear Solid 3 on my PS2.

Going around the world was easy, but going around the world while maintaining a daily Blog was one of the most challenging things I've ever done. I only hope that this Blog has inspired you, the desktop reader, to go out and travel the world yourself -- whether it be a couple of weeks trekking the Andes, a safari in Africa, or a sixteen month circumnavigation of the globe -- because reading this, as good as you think it was, doesn't do real travel any justice. All you have to do to get on your way is want it -- and I mean really want it -- and you'll soon figure out your own path. Who knows? Perhaps one day you'll get jaded the way I did too, realizing that it really is a small world af-- well, you know what I mean.

Now Showing: "Elsewhere"

(Click here to skip the drivel below and jump right to the new slideshow.)

I often joke and say that I'm the stereotypical Japanese tourist, because when I'm out traveling, I sure do take a hell of a lot of pictures. Anyone who's joined me on the road on my 503-day journey knows that I've snapped pictures left and right with my little Sony DSC-U30 digital spy camera like there's no tomorrow, sometimes not of anything photogenic at all, just so I can remember things instead of jotting them down in a memo pad.

While I did bring along the heavier artillery of a Canon AE-1 SLR with color slide film, and a little Sony HandyCam miniDV camcorder, it was the little spy camera that I kept in my pocket at all times to capture each moment -- almost every moment -- except of course, for those couple of times after it was taken away from me, like that time I got mugged at knifepoint in Cape Town, or that time I passed out on the beach in Valencia, Spain, only to have it robbed off of me. (That was my bad, sorry.)

In any case, the bulk of my photos came from my little digital camera (and its subsequent replacements of similar make and model), and in the end, I ended up with a whopping 33,824 pictures in total. Insane. For the past four weeks, I have used all of my available free time between freelance work, drinking beer and coffee, and watching episodes of Degrassi: The Next Generation and Wonder Showzen (arguably the funniest and most twisted show on TV right now) to go through each and every one of my digital photos on my new PowerBook G4 -- Apple's iPhoto is a godsend for such a task -- and I've weeded them all down to a few hundred really good ones. From that select group, I narrowed them down even more to just a few dozen exceptional ones (including some never-before-seen on the Blog), all of which I've put together in a brand new slideshow that I am proud to announce here in this entry:

The Global Trip.com Presents
"E L S E W H E R E"
Photos From Sixteen Months Around The World

Just click the link above, and then sit back and relax for the next eight minutes while you marvel and reminisce about life elsewhere on the planet. Be warned that by the time the slideshow presentation finishes, you might be so inspired and teeming with wanderlust that you may just spontaneously pack up and leave without thinking before remembering that you left the stove on.

THE CAPTION TRACK: It is my intention that this slideshow of my best digital photos be more about evoking emotion through sight and sound than about the questions of "Who/What/Where is that?". But, for those anal ones out there (hehe, I said "anal"), you can simply turn on/off the caption track in the lower righthand corner of the presentation. For you diehard Blogreaders out there, you can test your knowledge and quiz yourself on the destinations with the captions off, and then turn them on to reveal the answers and see if you really know your TGT trivia.

TECHNICAL MUMBO JUMBO: Just like the "Would You?" and "DAY 503" slideshow trailers, the Flash plug-in (version 6 or higher this time) is required. If you don't have it, you can download it by clicking here. Also, it should go without say that faster, more powerful computers will probably handle the synchronization and timing of photos to the music better than a slower computer (even though I have it set to auto-adjust the quality based on processor power). If you have the means, watch this on a decent computer with good speakers.

If It Wasn't Entertaining, It Wouldn't Be P.C.

It has been brought to my attention that this little Blog here has caught the attention of the editors of PC Magazine, purveyors of great technological wisdom, who have just awarded this website with inclusion in their annual list, the Spring 2005 "Top 100 Sites You Didn't Know You Couldn't Live Without" (in the travel category). Isn't that great? I feel truly honored; this means that my travel Blog now joins the ranks of other things the editors at PC Magazine have deemed as "Editors' Choice," like the EPSON Stylus Photo RX620 printer, the Motorola V551 mobile phone, and the Canon PowerShot SD500 Digital Elph camera. Let's compare:

SIDE-BY-SIDE COMPARISON	The Global Trip Travel Blog*	EPSON Stylus Photo RX620	Motorola V551	Canon PowerShot SD500
Includes over 500 entries of life on the road	YES	NO	NO	NO
Inspires and encourages wanderlust	YES	NO	NO	NO
Has built-in instant messenger client	NO	NO	YES	NO
Includes gratuitous pictures of poop	YES	NO	NO	NO
Is sometimes considered humorous	YES	NO	YES1	NO
Shoots photos up to 7.1-megapixels	NO	NO	NO	YES
Includes audio clip of a traditional Andean band playing "Y.M.C.A."	YES	NO	NO	NO
Includes video clip of looping in a plane	YES	NO	NO	NO
Can print photos directly from 35-mm slides	NO	YES	NO	NO
Provides escapism from boring cubicle jobs	YES	YES2	NO	NO

Based on this table, we can clearly see that in comparison with products totally unrelated to it, The Global Trip Travel Blog beats out the competition hands down -- even that Canon PowerShot SD500 Digital Elph camera which has no redeeming qualities whatsoever (except for the fact that it takes really good pictures). Of course, I'm no authority on the best that's out there in the world of technology, so you should probably just trust the editors of PC Magazine with their Choices and Top 100 Sites Lists.

To the editors of PC Magazine, thank you, and to the new Blogreaders joining us from PC Magazine and PCMag.com, welcome aboard!

Best Place Ever

Not surprisingly, the most frequently asked question I get is, "So, what's the best place you've been?" This of course is a loaded question, and rather than go into a tiff about how it is in fact a loaded and unfair question, my automatic quick answer is "Bolivia." I then continue briefly about how jungles, villages, and cities begin to look the same across continents, but it was unique sight of Bolivia's reflective salt pans of Uyuni that I have not seen anywhere else.

This is of course the short answer, so I can move off the subject and go back to attend to my beer. However, the long answer is, "Well, I can't really single out one Best Place Ever because there's so much diversity out there. I'd have to put it into categories first, and only then could I tell you about the best stuff I've seen that's out there in the world."

And so, here's the continuation of that long answer, based on my travels on TGT1 and TGT2:

BEST TREK: For me, trekking is always better when there's a goal to be reached, so you feel like you have some sort of purpose in walking for days, instead of wandering around aimlessly like an illiterate locked in a library. One particular goal comes to mind, the "lost" city of Machu Picchu, at the end of the four-day trek on the Inca Trail (TGT1) in the Peruvian Andes. The four days of undulating paths through the cloud forest -- including a day of altitude sickness (no surprise there) -- is worth it once you gaze down on the ancient ruins from the old Incan Sun Gate.

Honorable mention goes to the Mount Kilimanjaro trek on the Marangu Route, not just because the goal at the end is the top of Africa's highest mountain peak, but because of the variety of environments on the way. In four days, you go through five different ecosystems: tropical rainforest, mountain forest, moorland, desert, and glacier. (The downside to that is that you have to lug the clothing for all such environments).

BEST BEACH: From what I've seen, I'll give this honor to White Beach on the island of Boracay in the Philippines. Honorable mention goes to Kendwa Beach on the northwest corner of Zanzibar, Tanzania. Mind you I was at both of these places during their low tourist seasons, so it wasn't that tainted with crowds of people. But with the smoothest, silkiest white sands I've graced my bare feet on, what's not to like either way?

MOST LAID BACK PLACE: Without a doubt, Dahab, Egypt, on the Sinai Peninsula. It is the answer to the frequently asked question, "What's one place you'd definitely go back to?" Situated on the coast of the Red Sea, what Dahab lacks in a sandy beach, it makes up for in pillow lounges. Picture a mile-long stretch of just blankets and pillows on the floor under thatched roofs for you to just veg out in with warm breezes, good food, great smokes, and really awesome milkshakes and lassis, all served to you by friendly people that don't hassle you as nearly enough as the locals swarming the ancient Egyptian tourist sites on the mainland. I'm told the Australian guy Greg I met up with there in June 2004, was still there in February 2005 because he just couldn't leave. It's just that kind of a place.

BEST DIVE: Let's break it down:

• BEST CORAL DIVE: Mnemba Atoll, off the northeast coast of Zanzibar Island, Tanzania. I lucked out diving on a sunny day with great visibility; all around me, all I could see were tropical fish and fields and fields of coral showing off all the colors of the spectrum. Honorable mention goes to the Great Barrier Reef (TGT1) off the coast of Cairns, Australia, also with the most amazing coral down under, down under.



• BEST WRECK DIVE: I don't have that much experience with wrecks, but I have to say I really did enjoy the "King Cruiser" wreck site in the Andaman Sea off the coast of Thailand. A big sunken ship with no presence of Leonardo DiCaprio is always a good thing.



• BEST DEEP DIVE: "Canyon" in the Red Sea, off the coast of Dahab, Egypt. Sinking down 90 ft. underwater through a narrow chasm is always an adventure; coming back up -- slowly -- is fun too. I should mention that "Canyon" is nearby the famous "Blue Hole" dive site, which is so deep, many divers have died in their attempts to reach the bottom. Many plaques on-shore have been erected in their memory, and attest to Blue Hole's danger. (Haha, I said, "erected.")



• BEST MARINE LIFE DIVE: I could say the great white shark dive I did off the coast of Gansbaai, South Africa, was the most exciting marine life dive, but that doesn't really count because I was in a cage without an air tank and the shark wrangler lured sharks over as best he could (in accordance with the government-set rules of eco-tourism).

  And so, the best real dives rich in marine life are in and around the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador. Reef sharks, schools of hammerheads, turtles, rays, and seas otters that swim right up to you -- it's like swimming in an aquarium without the annoying tourists flashing pictures behind a glass.

BEST SAFARI DESTINATION: The Okavango River, which begins somewhere in Angola, doesn't spill out into the ocean, a big lake or sea; it simply ends in the middle of Botswana, and disperses into a huge swampland known as the Okavango Delta (TGT1), where all the animals come to feed and drink. The Okavango was my first safari experience, and perhaps the most magical; all subsequent safaris weren't as special after that first one. (Once you've seen a giraffe, you've seen them all, no matter where you are.) I'm sure if I went to the Serengeti in Tanzania first, my answer would be different, but then again, if you've read, my experience in the Serengeti was the safari from hell, when I was stranded for hours under the hot, beating sun with this Italian couple, while we waited for our shady safari guide who abandoned us, to look for help for our truck stuck in the mud. Vultures literally circled above us that day -- not the thing you really want to see on a safari when you don't know if your guide is still alive.

Honorable mention goes to the Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania right next to the Serengeti, where most of the animals of Africa are found all in one convenient central area, inside the grasslands at the bottom of a collapsed volcano. (Coincidentally, the Ngorongoro Crater was a place that our car didn't break down.)

HOTTEST WOMEN: Ah, so many hotties around the world, but if I had to specify a country with the highest concentration of them, I'll to say Argentina. There's just something about their blend of Spanish, native South American, and some German genes that makes them bursting with sex appeal. A very close second goes to the women of Spain, the country that I have to say has the highest concentration of MILFs. As one of my friends said on the subject of Spanish women on his trip to Spain: "Check out that girl? That girl? F that, look at her mom!"

Honorable mention of worldly beauties goes to the Ethiopian women, and that's not a joke or an act of tokenism. At the crossroads of the Middle East and Africa, Ethiopia women have this really attractive blend of both worlds, with big alluring eyes, nice cheek-bones, and a great coffee-colored skin tone. Apparently the photogenic qualities of Ethiopians apply to men too, so I'm told by my cousin-in-law Tatjana in Luxembourg, who raved about how beautiful her male Ethiopian colleagues were.

While we're on the subject of HOTTEST WOMEN, I'll say the SEXIEST ACCENT has got to be when German girls speak English. That and the South African accent. Remember that chick in Lethal Weapon 2? Mmmm...

BEST AIRLINE: You can throw China Airlines' less-than-stellar safety track record out the window at 30,000 ft.; Dude, they have the best in-flight entertainment I've seen short of a lapdance. On my 9-hr. flight from Taipei to Vancouver, I was thoroughly entertained with my own entertainment unit, in coach, where I could watch movies from a decent selection, as well as TV shows (including that one obligatory episode of Friends that seems to be on all flights these days) -- and all on demand. I've seen selectable in-flight movies before, but they went through a loop and you had to wait for a cycle to finish in order to start from the beginning. But on this flight I could fast forward, rewind, stop, and play, and not only play movies; the unit had video games -- even multiplayer ones -- plus a decent selection of a variety of MP3s that you could put in your own customized playlist so you're not tied into their own playlists with those annoying in-flight pre-recorded DJs. With so much to do, I almost wished that flight was longer.

(Almost. I mean, c'mon, it was still a pretty long flight.)

BEST TRAINS: With a month-long unlimited Eurail pass, you can use all of the trains in western Europe for a one-time fee (minus the small extra costs for sleeper reservations on overnight trains). In my post-college European backpacking trek before I turned 26, the Eurail youth pass I had only allowed me to ride in second class. But on TGT2, at the age of 29, I had no choice but to get the standard Eurail pass, which is for first class. As far as I'd seen, the best of the first classes was on the InterCity Express of Germany, with its electrical power outlets, individual TV monitors, tables, office rooms, coffee and beer service. Honorable mention goes to the Shinkansen of Japan, the "bullet train" faster than a speeding train, which is so fast, I can definitely see how it instills a sensation of vertigo in some people.

BEST BUSES: The best buses, as far as I've experienced, are in Brazil. Air-conditioning, comfy cushiony seats, foot rests, leg rests -- it's like a bunch of Laz-y-Boys on wheels. I didn't see the buses in Argentina, but I've heard raves about them from fellow backpackers. These buses sure beat the buses in Peru, which wouldn't be so bad if they didn't keep on playing the same Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Segal movies over and over on the monitors.

I should mention that I've heard there is new competitive bus service in and between Singapore and Malaysia, where the seats on the buses are actual motorized massage chairs.

BEST FOOD: Ah, another loaded question. This too needs to be broken down in categories; here are some that immediately come to mind:

• BEST STEAK: The best steaks are in Argentina, more specifically at the Chiquilin restaurant in Buenos Aires. The gauchos of the countryside haven't busted their asses for years so that their beef could be second best -- and it shows.



• BEST FISH: The best fish I've had is in Tokyo sushi. There, you can get it so fresh, it literally still twitches on the table in front of you (and on occasion, in your mouth), whether it be fugu or live shrimp.




• BEST VEGETARIAN DISH: The falafels in the Arab world were good, but the best falafel I had was from Dada's Falafel in Berlin, a city with a huge Turkish immigrant population.




• BEST CHINESE FOOD: It's in China. But there they just call it "food."



• BEST GAME MEAT: Warthog, and it doesn't taste gamey at all. It's like pork, but a lot leaner and more tender, at least the way I had it prepared for me in Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe (TGT1). Since it's not exactly from a pig, it's technically not pork, so I dare even Jews to try it. So good.
  
  (By the way, while we're on the subject, try saying "Best Game Meat" out loud and undoubtedly it sounds like "Best Gay Meat." I had a similar problem in pronunciation when I once needed a hint for a PlayStation 2 game in 2002, and I was walking with my friend and Blogreader LovePenny and told him that I wanted to stop at a newsstand and get a "game magazine." You could imagine the confused look on his face when I said it.)




• BEST BANG FOR YOUR BUCK (before the U.S. dollar sunk to embarrassingly low values): If you really want a good value and with really good non-fast food, head for the night markets in Stone Town, Zanzibar, Tanzania. Fish, squid, lobster, crabs, prawns -- all caught fresh from local fishermen. You point to it, and it's put on the grill. Average price for a big plate of food is about two to three bucks (American). At that price it's a steal, and yet, I've seen backpackers complain it's still too much and bargain it down even more -- but c'mon, really now; lobster for that price? Sure, I'll pay the two bucks.
  
  Honorable mention goes to the night-time food stands in the Place Djemaa el-Fna in the old medina of Marrakesh, Morocco. Seafood, lamb, salads, and couscous galore, and plenty of it.




• BEST INTERNATIONAL MCDONALD'S FOOD ITEM NOT OFFERED IN THE U.S.A.: Yes, I made it a point to check out a local McDonald's (a.k.a. "the American embassy") in most of the countries I've been. Overseas, McDonald's must cater to a different audience with a different taste palate, and sometimes things are just a little different. Example: in Paris, you can get a beer, and I'm not talking about no paper cup, I'm talking about a glass of beer. And do you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris? They got the metric system; they wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is. They call it a "Royale with cheese." A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac."

  All Pulp Fiction aside, the tastiest thing I've had overseas not offered in the U.S.A. has got to be McDonald's of India's Chicken Maharaja Mac. Who says McDonald's can't survive in a Hindu country where cows are sacred? Replacing the two all beef patties are two spicy curry chicken patties, which is only ameliorated with the special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, (tomatoes,) on a sesame seed bun.

  Honorable mention goes to McDonald's of Canada's Toasted Deli Sandwiches, which I was surprised to not find back in the States. I'd only had the Crispy Buffalo Chicken Sandwich, which was spicy but not overwhelming, on a long toasted roll. Other sandwiches offered were the Turkey BLT, Beef 'n Provolone, Grilled Veggie Melt, New York Reuben, and the Leaning Tower Italian. So good, you almost forget you're in McDonald's -- until you tell them, "Super-Size Me."

BEST BEER: Ah, so many to choose from. I'll go with the heifeweizens in Berlin. Any brand will do after a couple (if you know what I mean), and in Germany they are always poured by barmaids that give it a really good head (if you know what I mean). I didn't go to Belgium, but honorable mention goes to Belgian Trappist Ales anyway because they're just so good in any country, plus southeast Asia's Tiger Beer, Namibia's Windhoek Special Lager, and some other brews that I was probably too drunk to remember. It's fitting to mention here that the Guinness brewed by the Guinness Anchor brewery in Malaysia brews Guinness with 8.0% alcohol by volume, 1.1% higher than the original Guinness in Ireland (6.9%).

BIGGEST ADRENALINE RUSH: Forget bungie jumping; that's all mathematically calculated with the Laws of Physics for safety. But the Running of the Bulls; no math can predict the nature of bulls stampeding down the narrow streets of Pamplona, closed off from side streets until the finish line. Does 69(3.14x + yr²) = getting gored in the ass by a bull horn? Who knows? Math also can't predict the nature of drunken revelers running/stumbling along with you in that tight space. As people have said (and will continue to say), the real threat of injury during the run comes not from the bulls, but from the people instead.

BEST CLUB: I originally thought La Paz would be this small Spanish colonial city in the middle of Bolivia with perhaps a central plaza, a Spanish-influenced cathedral, and a few red-roofed buildings. On the contrary, La Paz turned out to be this bustling modern metropolis situated at the bottom of a canyon. Think New York inside the Grand Canyon and you have La Paz. With that said, it was even more surprising to me when, with the help of two local girls that fellow traveler and Dutchman Gilbert met, we discovered the Dedekos nightclub in a residential area where one wouldn't expect a nightclub to be. Nightclubs come and go, so there's no guarantee it's still there at the time of writing this, but the hidden, secret aspect of it was part of its appeal. In a little alley way, one small door that looked like it led into a house actually led down into this huge underground space modeled to look like an old, multi-leveled miner's cavern, where the crowd was mostly young trendy locals, drinks were strong and cheap, and drugs were readily available if you were into them. Needless to say I got thoroughly trashed there dancing to the mix of techno, hip hop, lounge, and 80s classics, and lost my voice screaming the lyrics to Guns 'N Roses' "Sweet Child O' Mine" (a favorite both by locals and the few gringos that had also discovered the club's "secret" location).

Honorable mention goes to No Bar in Quito, Ecuador, with arguably the wildest bar-dancing crowd in the Andean countries of South America. The bar is set on fire nightly. Need I explain more?

WILDEST PARTY: As far as I've seen, Parties Gone Wild is at Pamplona's San Fermin Festival in Spain. More commonly known as "the Running of the Bulls," this festival is much more than the releasing of bulls every morning promptly at 8:00 a.m.; it is a full-on, non-stop 24/7 party, and I mean that quite literally. At any given time for the eight-day event, it's not surprising to see a marching band go down one of the streets, followed by a crowd of drunken street dancers, whether it be two in the afternoon or three in the morning. There's a line to get inside one of the big fancy nightclubs almost around-the-clock as far as I saw, which really didn't matter because you can drink and dance just about anywhere in the city. Sure other world festivals may have this craziness too, but do they have San Fermin's Txupinazo? It's the opening ceremony in which thousands of people jam into a space about the size of a basketball court, bouncing beach balls and soccer balls off the walls of buildings and go around with Super Soaker water guns filled with sangria. And contrary to what some travel purists may think, this festival is not overridden by foreigners inspired by Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises; as far as I saw, the event is still authentically a Spanish one.

Honorable mention goes to Rio de Janiero's Carnival -- the impromptu street parties more than the official parade in the Sambadrome itself (which is a lot more organized). With it's crazy street dancing, live samba bands, and foam parties, Rio's Carnival was actually my answer to this category until I went to the San Fermin.

BEST NIGHTLIFE: Overall, I'll say the best nightlife is in Bangkok, Thailand. As the song goes, "One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster" and there's a lot of truth in that (assuming you get in the bar or club you want to). If you're into the red light scene, Patpong's sex shows are there for you every night. If you want to go bar hopping or clubbing, everything is right next to each other in the Khaosan Road district, the center of farang backpackers, whose nightlife audience has expanded in recent years to include trendy young locals. Some other cities might have just as good a night scene as Bangkok's, but as far as I've experienced, it's only on Bangkok's Khaosan Road that you can just hang out on the street at night and have a good time drinking at a makeshift bar on the curb, all before stuffing your face with a sobering, freshly made banana pancake fried up by a street vendor.

SLICKEST CITY: Without a doubt, Tokyo. Tokyo was everything I imagined it would be and then some, without the giant monsters like Godzilla mucking about. A never-ending place of stimulation, this city of neon lights, fast trains, beverage vending machines on every corner, pachinko parlors, and hard-core porn in the regular daily newspapers, breaks all stereotypes that the Japanese are all shy, reserved people. The sound effects and chimes on the trains make it feel like you're in a video game. I once asked Blogreader and friend wheat (who had done a foreign student exchange program there), "Where's that neighborhood that looks like Times Square?" His reply: "Uh, all of them look like Times Square."

BEST "WONDER OF THE WORLD": According to Wikipedia, there are six different sets of "Seven Wonders of the World" lists: ancient, medieval, natural, underwater, modern, and new. All lists aside, the best "Wonder of the World" that I've seen is the Great Wall of China because, let's face it, with what other Wonder of the World can you drink a beer on, right before sliding down a zip-line?

MOST OVERRATED PLACE: Thailand has become known to be the first-time place for the newbie backpacker, as it is a cheap destination far from home where most people speak English, that has a very developed travel infrastructure and many Western conveniences. For this reason I feel it is overrated because before, during, and after this trip, I still hear people raving about Thailand like it's a big deal, when in reality it's not. If the world backpacking circuit was like a video game (as it sometimes feels), Thailand would be Level Two, only after Level One (English-speaking Australia). In fact, The Other Erik from Vancouver told me in the Philippines that Thailand probably wouldn't appeal to me and other well-traveled people because there's no challenge, and I wholeheartedly agreed with him.

Don't get me wrong; Thailand's great for what it is; it's easy. If you're new to backpacking or just want to "go on vacation" (as opposed to "travel"), or you're the type of "experienced backpacker" that just travels from Irish pub to Irish pub, then I wholeheartedly recommend it. The jungle treks are great, the historic sights are awe-inspiring, and the beaches world class -- plus they have a pretty nifty king whose picture is everywhere. I guess I'm bitter because to this day I still hear "Thailand this" and "Thailand that," and "You guys should go to Thailand" -- when I know there are other places out there with a more "authentic" experience, and Thailand is just hogging up all the action. Not to generalize, but the Thais have really embraced tourism and have become dependent on it, most going out of their way for farangs (provided they have the cash). In a way I sort of feel Thailand is the sell-out of southeast Asia -- no offense to you Thais outside the tourism industry -- and I've actually felt bad about thinking that -- until I went to a Thai artists' exhibit in the Singapore Art Museum, which displayed similar statements from Thais concerned about the state of greed in their homeland:

"Thailand is a Buddhist country where people are not supposed to exploit each other but when you look around, all you see are greed and consumerism everywhere." --Chatchai Puipia

"It's too easy to use the West as a scapegoat; it's the whole system that's at fault. Greed swallowed us up both inside and out. Having never lived under colonial rule, we were inexperienced and incapable of protecting ourselves in such a climate. But the biggest doubt is whether we've actually learnt from our mistakes." --Manit Sriwanichpoom

I understand that in developing countries, tourism is a necessity to keep an economy going. Just keep in mind that in the long run, it's not the locals who ruin a country's "authenticity," it is the tourists.

BEST PLACE WITH A BAD REPUTATION: India has been a backpacker destination for decades, since the days the hippies came in the 60s to do drugs and get all spiritual. (Some of them haven't left, and by the smell of things, haven't showered.) In today's new wave of backpackers, who tote digital cameras and mobile phones, and hang out in metrosexual bars, India has become a sort of eye-opening, and sometimes depressing destination for some. Most newcomers arrive and are immediately appalled to see the state of poverty, the pollution, and the constant haggling and scamming by locals. I won't ignore the fact that this is present in India, but I must say it isn't the only thing that's there. India does have its charm, with its historic, religious and modern monuments, but above all, it has a very friendly people, as long as you find them. Now I don't know if I got a less-than-average hassle because of the color of my skin, but I definitely saw that many Indians are not scam artists and are good guys. It's not all litter, smog, and scrawny cows in the street neither. From my experience, India can actually be a classy place; Mumbai reminded me of Miami with its art deco buildings and lack of tuk-tuks, and the southwest coast of India boasts casinos and a fancy beach scene.

I promote India here because I'm irritated when I meet travelers who have told me they would never go to India after reading that book, Are You Experienced? by William Sutcliffe, which really plays up the annoying aspects of traveling in India. I can't really bash this book since I haven't read it myself, but all I know is, Lara (the Brit in Peru, Bolivia, and Brazil) and Lot (the Dutchie in northern Thailand) both refused to go to India after believing everything they read the book. If India's Ministry of Tourism could do anything about it, they should put out a smear campaign on the book, instead of concentrating their "Incredible India!" campaign. Or, if anyone in the country is caught reading it, they should scold him/her by saying, "This is not a library."

COUNTRY THAT SURPRISED ME THE MOST: Forget the image of a nation of starving children; Ethiopia is "up and coming" on the tourist radar, and the Ministry of Tourism there knows it, playing up Ethiopia's rich history angle. Ethiopia, the birthplace of humanity, was once the homeland of the Abyssian Empire, a once powerful civilization as glorious as the ancient Egyptians or Nubians. After seeing the rock-hewn churches of Lalibela, the castles of "Africa's Camelot" in Gondar, and the temple believed to hold the actual Ark of the Covenant in Axum, no longer is my image of Ethiopia that of a Sally Struthers television ad. It would seem that in Ethiopia, "they" were the world before "we" were.

PLACE I THINK I COULD LIVE OTHER THAN NEW YORK: Majority opinion would leave you to believe the ideal place would be a bungalow on a secluded beach or something, but truthfully, I have to say I'm not much of a beach person. Don't get me wrong, I like being on the beach, but the thing is, I get bored easily, and with all my melanin, I don't exactly need to sit out like a beach bum to get a tan. I thought I was the oddball out until I saw an episode of Ian Wright Live! on my China Airlines' flight (host of the Lonely Planet/Globe Trekker show, in his own solo travel-oriented variety show), who said something to the effect that all you do on the beach is get sunburn while trying to read a book, but then end up just falling asleep and getting sand all over you.

Picking a place to live and not just to getaway are two different things, at least in my short-attention span mind. I hate it when people talk about how good a place is to live and mention, "They have really good bars and stuff." Uh, I hate to say it, but bars aren't the only thing in Life. (They're a big part, not just the only factor.) Unlike most backpackers, I'm usually excited about big cities as I am with nature trails, provided the city has a buzz, a vibe, an energy that you feel around you all the time to keep you stimulated. With that and the fact that I'd like to live in a place that doesn't require you to have a car, I'll say my answer is Berlin. Paris is a close second -- their Metro system is also extensive and convenient -- but it's Berlin that, like New York City, is more of a multicultural international city as far as I'd seen. (Plus, a lot more people speak English.) In fact, ask any German living outside of Berlin about their capital city and they'll most likely say "Ich mag Bier und wienerschnitzel" ("I like beer and wienerschnitzel"), followed by "Berlin ist nicht ein Teil von Deutschland" ("Berlin is not a part of Germany"). Like New York, "New Berlin" (as some call it) is a world city unlike the rest of the country, with many different cultures in the mix -- something I really respect because multiculturalism has come to be a big requirement for me (if not the biggest) in the place I could live. Berlin has this multicultural vibe; in fact, many of the Berliners I met were of some other ethnic descent.

Aside from the multicultural aspect, Berlin, like New York, is an ever-changing city of blending the old with the new; classic buildings stand near post-modern futuristic-looking ones. The music scene isn't dependent on the mainstream, ranging from roots in classical to the present day DJ breakbeat scene. Old and new design is omnipresent too, and there's even a longtime indie film scene. And if that's not enough, they have really good bars and stuff. (It's not the only thing they have, but it's definitely a plus.)

* * * * *


SO THERE YOU GO; my long answer to the Best Place(s) Ever. I'm aware my answers don't cover the entire world; it's just what I've experienced myself. Have you seen that 1,000 Places Before You Die book by Patricia Schultz? I've barely put a dent in that list after all that I've seen so far. It's actually a sort of depressing thing for me to browse through that book. There are so many other places out there that may or may not be better than the places mentioned in my "Best Of..." list above, but c'mon, cut me some slack; it's a big world after all, no matter what Disney may tell you.

Special Delivery

"WHAT'S UP?" my mother asked me that rainy Saturday morning. Yes, I was still living under her and my father's roof, working my way through some small debts -- an inevitable post-trip curse -- while saving up for new opportunities in travel and/or real estate.

"I'm going out to deliver these postcards," I told her.

"Why don't you just mail them?"

"That's not the point."

IF YOU RECALL DAY 40: Postcards From A Weirdo, way back from November 2003, you'll remember that in the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador, I journeyed to the island of Floreana, home of "Post Office Bay," the old meeting point where sailors and seafaring traders developed a traditional postal system in which one could leave letters or packages on the island so that another sailor going in the direction of the shipping address would simply deliver them by hand. If you remember that entry -- and I'm sure you do -- you will also recall that nowadays, the packages of these seafaring traders have been replaced by tourists' postcards, and of the hundreds of postcards left there, only four were addressed to people in my home vicinity. To quote myself from November 2003:

I was designated to take the mere four cards addressed to the NY/NJ/CT tri-state area, which I plan to deliver when I can, or face a bad curse according to Tatjiana. So, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Johnson of Westport, CT; Mrs. Connie Marince of Trenton, NJ; Amy & Joe Red Delicious of Greenwood Lake, NY; and Jeff Benney of Whippany, NJ... if you're out there, you can expect a weirdo (me) knocking on your door with outdated postcards sometime in 2005 (or until my money runs out, whichever comes first.) I suppose with that kind of delivery timeframe, that puts me on the bottom of the parcel delivery hierarchy, just after Mr. McFeely from Mister Rogers Neighborhood.

My mom had a point; I could have just put stamps on the four postcards (picture above) and have a mailman deliver them -- the postcards that I left at Post Office Bay were delivered that way, according to those that received them -- but where's the story in that?

"So you're going to all these people to see what hijinks ensue?" Blogreader RachelJC commented to me over drinks the night before.

"Yes."

THE HIJINKS BEGAN TO ENSUE when I hopped in the driver's seat of my brother markyt's Mazda Protegé, which he graciously lent me for the weekend. It was a rainy morning, the kind where you'd rather just sleep in, but I was determined to accomplish my mission, the one last mission of The Global Trip 2004, to finally give me and all the Blogreaders -- the "Fellowship of The Blog" -- some much-needed closure.

It was only three miles from the house to the border with New York State, over the George Washington Bridge. I made my way up through the Bronx (home of Blogreader Moman's famous Bronx Tours), and up I-95 to the border with Connecticut -- two state border crossings within an hour. (Border crossings between states are common in northeast U.S.A., and without nearly as much hassle as my land crossing between Ecuador and Peru.)

Connecticut, the fifth state of the United States, has its place in American history. It was in here that the first constitution was adopted in 1639, where the Frisbee and the Polaroid camera were invented, where World Wrestling Entertainment keeps their corporate headquarters, and, most noteworthy (at least to me), it is where Tony Danza moved to and saw Angela naked in the shower in Who's The Boss?. Nothing welcomes you to Connecticut more than a big traffic pile-up on the Gov. John Davis Lodge Turnpike, and rather than sit in a lane while the rain came down, I took a quick pitstop at the Connecticut Welcome Center Rest Area for a pee break and a free tourist map of Westport from the tourist information desk.

As the southernmost state of New England, Connecticut's towns evoke a colonial charm with quaint downtown stores -- now selling trendy clothes instead of churned butter -- near the cherry blossoms along the Saugatauk River. My first delivery point was not too far away from the downtown area, but I managed to get lost anyway in the confusing back streets of small town America. Eventually I found the little road off a small road off a main road, and found the big, ranch style house with the address on the postcard. From what I gathered, I was in the kind of neighborhood where everyone felt secure; the garage door was wide open, as well as the front door, but no one was to be seen until I rang the doorbell.

"Hi I'm looking for a Mr. and Mrs. Richard Johnson," I said to the old white-haired man who came to the door.

"That's me," he answered. He had a confused look on this face, the kind of look like he just woke up to see a stranger at his door.

"Uh, I don't know if you know the tradition of hand-delivering postcards from the Galapagos," I started.

"No."

"But I'm here with a postcard from your friends," I said. I showed him the handwritten names of his friends on the postcard to prove to him that I wasn't some random weirdo off the street -- well, at least one without any reason for being there.

"Oh?" Mr. Richard Johnson said. He looked at the card and skimmed it briefly.

"It's a year late, but I thought I'd bring it anyway," I told him.

"Well, thank you."

The encounter was brief, and I left him be so that he could go back to sleep, or whatever else it was that he was doing before I rang the doorbell. I head back to the car with a smile on my face and a feeling of relief; you never know if the person you're delivering to is more of a weirdo than you are.

One down, three to go, I thought.

"TAKE ME DOWN TO THE PARADISE CITY, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty... Take... me... home... Yeah, yeah..." I sang to myself along to Guns 'N Roses blasting out of the radio speakers on K-ROCK, the local New York City radio station and home of the nationally-syndicated Howard Stern Show. "Take me down to the Paradise City, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty... Oh won't you please take me home..."

Axl Rose was just one artist I sang along to in the private comfort of my brother's car as I flipped through the radio stations (other artists included Mobb Deep, Maroon 5, Dr. Dre, and Alicia Keys), driving back across the border into southern New York State. I cut across westbound on I-87, drove over the Hudson River again via the Tappan Zee Bridge, and entered Rockland County. It was another half hour or so until I reached the border with Orange County, New York State's bucolic version of "The O.C." Replacing the affluent California houses, palm trees, trashy drama, and snappy theme song of Fox's The O.C. TV show were mountains, oak trees, a thick, misty fog, and an all Christian rock radio station -- as soon as I seeked to 88.9 FM, on came some modern Christian rock song called "Only A God Like You."

My next destination, the village of Greenwood Lake, NY, was only 44 miles from New York City, but socially- and politically-wise, it seemed a thousand miles away. With a population of just 3,411 people, this small village in the lower Catskill Mountain region near a lake of the same name, was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, a place where people had pick-up trucks with "Proud to be Republican" bumper stickers, a place where everyone gave me weird looks like I was a suspected terrorist. I guess I sort of brought that upon myself, not just because I was alone and wasn't White (it was 91.7% White, according to the 2000 census) but because I was sneaking around town with my old traveling habits, taking photos with my little spy camera -- including a couple shots of the post office, the one federal building in town. I had failed to realize in the Galapagos that the shipping address for my next postcard was not for a house, but for a P.O. Box., which is why I went to the post office in the first place.

"Excuse me, do you work here?" I asked the one guy I saw inside.

"No," he said in an American accent. He was an Asian man, quite possibly the only Asian guy in town -- or possibly a weirdo like me delivering postcards.

"Do you live here?"

"Yeah."

"If I want to drop something off in a P.O. box, do I have to put a stamp on it?" I asked.

"Is the P.O. box here?"

"Yeah," I said, hoping my specification made the answer easier.

"I don't know."

He pointed to the "Greenwood Lake Only" slot, which had a sign that said "Local Postmark Only." What that meant, neither of us knew. "There's a stamp machine over there," he pointed out before going on his way.

"But it's out of order," I said when I took a closer look -- but the man was already gone.

First I tried slipping the postcard underneath the little P.O. box door, but it was too narrow, so I had no choice but to mail it with a stamp, so that a postal worker could deliver it literally six steps away. Fortunately I had a stamped envelope for such an emergency, and put the postcard inside with my business card and a post-it note explaining myself. I put it in the mail slot and went on my way -- before this old woman who looked really suspicious of my presence called the cops or something.

Two down, two to go.

BACK ACROSS THE BORDER IN NEW JERSEY, I stopped for a mid-mission break at McDonald's for a Big Mac and to figure out the best route to my next destination with an old road map and some printouts from Google Maps (another one of PC Magazine's Top 100 Sites). Soon I was southbound on I-287 headed for the New Jersey suburb of Whippany, home of the Whippany Railway Museum, which I only know about because its old locomotives just so happened to catch my eye while I was driving. Whippany was also the hometown of my next lucky sendee, a Mr. Jeff Benney. Not surprisingly, I got lost for a bit -- internet directions always suck, no matter how fancy the map interface is -- but I managed to find my way into the Oak Ridge townhouse development complex across the street from a big Lucent Technologies office. From the looks of things, hardly anyone in the complex was around since almost every driveway was empty -- except for the townhouse that matched the address on the postcard. I rang the doorbell and suddenly heard the footsteps of a figure come to the door.

"Are you Jeff Benney?" I asked the guy behind the screen door. He looked to be in his late 30s or early 40s, although you really can't judge someone's age by physical appearance these days. (Just the week before, someone mistook 30-year-old me for a middle school student, which is a fifteen-year-old tops!)

"That's me," Jeff said.

"I'm hand-delivering a postcard from the Galapagos," I said, handing him the card. The penmanship on it was sort of sloppy, but it was understandable because I knew about the motion of the boats, and the fact that everyone seems to rush through postcard writing just before landing at Post Office Bay on Floreana Island.

"Oh?" He cracked a grin.

"I don't know who it's from; there's no name." The closing on the postcard was simply "Love, Me."

"That's my wife." He took the card in his hand.

"Uh, it's late by a year and a half."

"So you were there in the Galapagos?"

"Yeah, in October 2003," (I really meant November), "But I've been traveling since then," I said. "I only got back last month. That's me," I said, pointing out my business card paper-clipped to the postcard.

"Well, thanks," Jeff said with a smile, shaking my hand.

Just one more to go...

IT WAS ANOTHER HOUR OF DRIVING, down to where I-287 met the New Jersey Turnpike's Exit 10. I head southbound to Trenton, capital city of New Jersey, just across the river from the state of Pennsylvania. I soon discovered Trenton was hodgepodge of different economic classes, when I got lost yet again; just a couple of miles from the dignified buildings near the capital complex was a run-down ghetto of boarded up buildings. I drove all around looking for "Princeton Pike" with no luck, and I was starting to feel the pressure because sundown was soon approaching and I really didn't want to deliver the card at nighttime. Not only that, but the road where Princeton Pike should have been on according to my directions was actually Dr. Martin Luther King Boulevard, which, from the looks of things, perpetuated the stereotype that Black comedian Chris Rock famously pointed out once in a stand-up routine: "If a friend calls you on the telephone and says they're lost on Martin Luther King Boulevard and they want to know what they should do, the best response is, 'Run!' I don't care where you live in America; if you're on Martin Luther King Boulevard, there's some violence going on." (Of course not all MLK Blvd.'s are like this; I used to go to school on one in Newark, NJ of all places, and it was fine.)

The sun was setting, and so I succumbed to the inevitable thing for a guy lost in a car. I'm talking about throwing all manhood out the window and asking for directions. A young gas station attendant led me in the right direction -- it turned out that Princeton Pike was actually not in Trenton, but in the pleasant suburb of Lawrence Township next door. Trenton and the zip code written on the postcard were probably for postal distribution zoning or something.

"ARE YOU CONNIE?" I asked the old woman who answered the door at my final delivery destination. She reminded me of Nina, my homestay host in Irkutsk, Russia, only much, much friendlier.

"Yes."

"I'm hand-delivering a postcard from the Galapagos Islands," I said, showing her the card.

"Oh really."

"It's late I know."

"How did you get it?"

I briefed her with a short lecture about the tradition of Post Office Bay, and how I picked up the postcard addressed to her way back in 2003. I gave her the card and she recognized the senders' names.

"Oh! These people just came back from an African safari!"

"Oh yeah?"

"I'll have to call them." She was pretty happy about my special delivery and skimmed the postcard. "This was two years ago."

"Well, I've been traveling."

"Slow delivery."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, thank you!"

She closed the door, and I went on my way, feeling fulfilled. Mission accomplished.

After eight hours of driving all over the NY/NJ/CT tri-state area, I rewarded myself to my favorite homemade ice cream at the Halo Pub (which I once mentioned in a Blog entry in a conversation I had with Amanda in Chennai, India) in Princeton, NJ, home of the famous ivy league university. That night, I head back home up the New Jersey Turnpike, grooving along to the tunes on the radio again. There wasn't much traffic congestion and the highways were clear -- perhaps it was a metaphor to my future ahead, now that all matters of The Trip had been settled.

AND SO, THE FINAL EXCURSION of The Global Trip 2004 had come to an end, bringing me full circle, tying up loose ends, and bringing closure to the around-the-world journey and the Blog. (You were just at the edge of your seat, wondering about those postcards, weren't you?) It was the "season finale" of "The Trinidad Show" if you will, which would go on hiatus until it is renewed with a new trip (not yet determined), or at least until the time some weirdo, by some chance, comes to my doorstep hand-delivering a postcard from the Galapagos Islands.

The End.

Today in U.S.A. News...

Thanks to Blogreader Udda's comment, I now know that this here blog has been recommended by the travel writers at USATODAY.com, in a blurb in the special Bonus Section, "Smart Travel." This recommendation, like the PC Magazine award, is a great honor, as my blog has now officially made national news -- international too, since USA Today is distributed worldwide. It's not nearly as big as most world news -- tsunamis or the selection of a new Pope, for example -- but at least it's something. (By the way, did anyone else win a bet on Pope Benedict XVI? Booyah!)

In the USA Today print edition of the article (April 27, 2005), my mention shares a page with photos of two people I'm fans of myself: The Amazing Race host Phil Keogan and actor/comedian Robin Williams, who mentions he never travels without his iPod. Remember when Robin Williams was Mork in Mork and Mindy? Do you think he still has those rainbow suspenders? Do you think he won a bet on the new Pope?

"Nanoo, nanoo."

To the travel writers of USATODAY.com, thank you, and to the new Blogreaders joining us from USA Today and USATODAY.com, welcome aboard! Special shoutout to the crew at BootsnAll for all their behind-the-scenes hard work too!

ATTENTION: If anyone else sees any press about me or this blog, let me know; people don't tell me anything!