Last week I had a new story debut in The Smart Set. Entitled “Death of an Adventure Traveler,” it is a kind of sequel to a story I wrote for a Lonely Planet anthology several years ago. In the original story, I recounted a quirky tale told to me by my barber in Thailand, an old Burmese man named Mr. Benny; in the new tale, I return to Thailand to hear persistent rumors that Benny has died.

As I search a Thai-Burmese border town for Mr. Benny, reflecting on the colorful details of his life (including his stints as a gem poacher, tin smuggler, CIA translator, wildlife poacher, and pearl diver), I run into folks like Ezio, a local Italian expat, who calls into question my work in adventure-travel journalism:

Ezio teased me about my latest magazine assignment as he stood in the kitchen, his hulking mass bent over a tiny espresso pot. “These American magazines don’t even know what adventure is,” he said. “They want you to write about camping toys and sports vacations. They want you to make people think adventure is something that costs $8,000 and lasts as long as a Christmas holiday. They want you to make rich people feel good for being rich.”

I didn’t argue with him. Twenty-five years ago, Ezio had left Rome for a winter holiday in North Africa, and he’d never returned. He’d taught himself Arabic in Algeria, learned to live in the desert, bought a few camels, and made a living as a tour guide. Intrigued by wars, he eventually wandered on to Uganda, and then Lebanon, and then Sri Lanka, picking up languages as he needed them. He eventually landed in Southeast Asia, where he fell in love with Thai women — all of them, from the way he described it — and he’d been based in Thailand for over 10 years now. What Ezio had done with his life was unusual, but not unique. Every out-of-the-way province in Southeast Asia, it seemed, had a few guys like him — aging expats who’d lived remarkable lives, and enjoyed their anonymity with no plans of going home. Whenever I talked to Ezio I was reminded of how the storied travelers of history invariably discovered they were not alone in their wanderings — how William of Rubrouck arrived in Karakorum to find Ukrainian carpenters, Greek doctors, and Parisian goldsmiths; how Marco Polo encountered Lombards, Germans, and Frenchmen in the streets of Cambaluc. These people’s stories were never told because they never went home.

As my fruitless quest to find Mr. Benny drags on, I begin to question the contradictions behind the Western notion of “adventure.” How, after all, is kayaking a remote Chinese river more notable than surviving on its shores for a lifetime? How does risking frostbite on a helicopter-supported journey to arctic Siberia constitute more of an “adventure” than risking frostbite on a winter road-crew in Upper Peninsula Michigan? Is it not telling that bored British aristocrats — not the peoples of the Himalayas — were the ones who first deemed it important to climb Mount Everest?

My full essay, which is particularly timely given recent events in Burma, can be found here.

The Islamic holy month of Ramadan began a few weeks ago, and will end on the 13th of October with the feast of Eid al-Fitr (literally Festival of Breaking Fast). The ninth month of the Islamic calendar, Ramadan is a time for spiritual reflection, almsgiving, and fasting from sunrise to sunset. I had the opportunity several years ago to celebrate Ramadan when I was in Morocco, and I still like to fast on the first and last days of the month even now.

I think fasting is instructive and worthwhile for a number of reasons. First of all, you’re able to share the same experience as more than one billion Muslims worldwide. This opens up a small window into an entirely different world (at least for me), and establishes a little more understanding between people of disparate backgrounds. Fasting also provides the rare opportunity to feel real hunger. Like many other people, I often “graze” throughout the day, and I constantly find myself eating out of boredom rather than actual hunger. Fasting, then, is a chance to develop a little self-discipline, and to remember that many others in the world don’t have pantries stuffed with Pringles and Double Stuff Oreos. Finally, learning about– and participating in– rituals and holidays celebrated by the rest of the world makes for richer, more meaningful travel experiences. And after fasting for Ramadan at home, who wouldn’t be excited about going to Egypt or Morocco or Turkey, and experiencing it for real?

If you think you can go without food and water one day this Ramadan (you can!), give it a shot. At sunset, crank up your favorite Sami Yusuf album, and treat yourself to a nice meal. You might feel better for it.

Pop economics books, like Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner’s Freakonomics and Tim Harford’s The Undercover Economist, seem to be everywhere these days, offering the surprising explanations behind everyday events. Tyler Cowen‘s book Discover Your Inner Economist may be of special interest to those of us who like to travel, and more specifically, those who like to sample local fare while on the road. If you have to choose to have dinner in either Stockholm or Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Cowen says, you’ll get much better food for the money in Haiti. To Cowen, if a restaurant is located in a bad neighborhood, or is successful even in a poor country, the food must be really good. “Iron bars on the windows,” he writes, “and barbed wire on the fences, however bad for the residents or your own safety, are both good signs for the food.”

Experience tells us that he’s right, too. On the road, the food is often best, and cheapest, at out-of-the-way establishments. More than that, it is a worthwhile experience to share a meal with locals, and the proprietors of restaurants are often extra welcoming to those who choose their hard-to-reach establishment over all the others. Talking to a local is almost always the best way to find these hidden gems.

Cowen has gleaned another bit of wisdom from his expertise in economics, expanding on the old “money isn’t everything” cliché. “The critical economic problem is scarcity,” he says. “Money is scarce, but in most things the scarcity of time, attention, and caring is more important.”

If pop econ is your thing, check out Cowen’s blog at www.marginalrevolution.com

As fellow Vagabonders, my husband and I live, travel and work together permanently. We’ve been married for 3+ years and together for 13 and we’re one of those lucky couples who, rather than kill each other when they spend too much time together, gets on even better the more time we spend together.

But there are limits and our jaunts this year through Panama, Buenos Aires, Toronto and Grenada tested the relationship more thoroughly than we’d have liked. At times, we could have cheerfully killed each other but at others, there’s no-one better to share your travel experiences with than the one you love.

Traveling with your other half has its disadvantages…

You can get lazy in each other’s company, not needing to speak to or make friends with anyone else unless you get sick of each other.

If you disagree on where you’d like to go or what you’d like to do, you lose the feeling of total freedom which travel can grant you.

Throwing yourselves into challenging situations can bring out the worst in you, perhaps a side of each other you’ve never seen before.

On the other hand, it also has its benefits…

You’re never lonely.

You have someone else to look silly with when you’re unsure of how things work.

You learn an awful lot more about each other facing the challenges of traveling together than you might do sitting comfortably at home on the sofa.

You have someone special to share the magical experiences with on your journey who joins in enthusiastically when you start to say, “Remember that time when…” instead of eyes glazing over as you recall yet another ‘travel’ story.

There’s a lot more to most embassies and consulates than just replacing stolen passports or evacuating nationals in times of crisis. If you’re living, working, or simply traveling for a long stretch in a foreign country, your embassy can also be your connection to an entire expatriate community: providing both a social network, and a great source for insider information on the city or country you’re visiting.

Some embassies have a staffer (or staffer’s spouse) designated to serve as a “welcome wagon” – orienting new arrivals to public transit, grocery stores, hospitals or dentists, and other practical necessities – while almost all can put visitors in touch with the local non-profit ex-pat association: The Canadian Association, American Association, Australian Association, and so on. These groups are set up and run by diplomats, businessmen and women living abroad, and their families.

Of course, most of the events and services offered by these organizations won’t mesh with the average vagabonder’s style: black-tie balls, organized tours, and one-day volunteering stints in orphanages. But it isn’t all like something out of a bad historical novel set in the golden days of the Raj. These groups have years, decades sometimes, of accumulated knowledge about a given city, and that’s a resource worth tapping into. Craving a peanut butter and jam sandwich? Chances are the Canadian Association knows exactly which hole-in-the-wall grocery store sells Skippy. They’ll also know all about the restaurant scene away from the tourist hotspots – which almost always translates into cheaper meals.

Sure, sometimes half the fun is in figuring out the train network yourself, and of course you want to eat local food as often as possible. But vagabonding doesn’t have to involve cutting every tie with home; you’re not trying to win a competition for Most Hardcore Authentic Traveler here. I find that on a long trip, a Thanksgiving potluck or a group screening of How the Grinch Stole Christmas can be just what I need to recharge my batteries for more adventures in the unfamiliar.

Here’s an example of the many options out there: a list of ex-pat organizations in Malaysia, where my parents were heavily involved in the Canadian Association for several years. To find an ex-pat organization near you, check the website of the nearest embassy (here’s a list of all US embassy websites) or just google “association” and “American” (or “Canadian”, “British,” etc.) and the name of the country you’re staying in.

For the hardcore traveler it would seem there is nothing more insulting than being marked out as a ‘tourist’. I’m sure you know the feeling…trying your utmost hardest to blend into your environment, look like you know how things work and then being utterly crushed when the waitress offers you the tourist menu or asks whether you’d like the menu in English.

In Buenos Aires earlier this year, despite having just learned Latin American Spanish in Panama, I was making a vaguely passable attempt at speaking the Castilian Spanish. Clearly, I was no local and explained to the waitress that we were indeed from the UK. She then proceeded to try and explain to me (in Spanish) how I should pour and drink my tea…now if there’s one thing a British person knows, it’s how to drink tea!

But really, what is so wrong with being spotted as a tourist? Granted you might not always experience the same vibe of a place as a bona fide local, but being a tourist can have its advantages.

As a tourist, you can…

i) Blame it on your lack of local knowledge should you happen to make a faux pas which has the locals tutting and clearly marks you out as a ‘foreigner’…perhaps something like forgetting to use the little plastic gloves to handle vegetables in a supermarket or whispering “stop please” on a local bus when all the locals bellow it out in a megaphone-like fashion.

ii) Be as curious as you like to find out more about your location without feeling too nosy or intrusive, because after all, that’s what you’re there for.

iii) Revel in the fact that for once, you might look like a tourist because you don’t know how something works, you don’t know what to do and you might actually have to ask someone, engage with a local and perhaps even end up making a new friend in the process.

If you’re like me, you have a Top 5 (or even Top 30) list of countries to visit. That’s the easy part. But get much further into your planning and questions start rolling in: When is monsoon season in India? Do I want to travel to France for Bastille Day or in the shoulder season? The ‘when’ becomes just as important as the ‘where.’

The new book “Where to Go When,” just might help.

The photo-filled coffee-table book reads like an inspirational travel encyclopedia, perfect for early travel planning. Destinations are calendared by month, categorized by travel interest (natural wonders/active adventures/family getaways), and about 130 are featured in spreads that showcase DK Eyewitness Travel’s colorful and evocative photos.

Just a few flips of the pages and I’m already planning years’ worth of vacations. I consider the Yucatan in March — it’s recommended for its culture and festivals — and Lhasa in October. I’m reassured that my Cambodia trip was at the best time of year (February) but disappointed to learn that Belize would be best in May (not what I had hoped for). Especially helpful for cross-comparing several destinations: cost per day for 2 (or family of 4), dos and don’ts, and suggested itineraries.

No doubt the book will do well — if not for the lovely photos then for the reoccuring need to seek out a new destination; never at the same time of year, never for the same reason.

Joseph Rosendo, the book’s Consultant Editor, begins his book tour at the two branches of my favorite local travel bookstore:

Sunday, October 28 — Book Passage, Corte Madera, CA
Monday, October 29 — Book Passage, San Francisco, CA

It was this time last year that I ended up at the Budapest Marathon. If only I had trained for it.

By chance, I was in the spa city for a few days and found that my guidebook-recommended itinerary crisscrossed the marathon route. The runners were following a tour of their own, from Pest’s City Park, up the Danube, across four of the city’s seven classic bridges, and skirting Buda’s old city — one that covered more ground than my limited radius of central sights.

As a runner, I’ve long thought that a marathon (or other footrace) would be the best way to see a city for the first time. The route is already plotted, usually along the most picturesque landmarks, and you’re engaged in the most universal of exercises — running — alongside others with whom you might not otherwise have an obvious connection. The excitement of a new city meets the comforting familiarity of foot on pavement.

If you start your 6-month training now, you might choose an April/May 2008 race, which gives you enough time to train and also sort out your airline tickets and passport. Consider April’s Paris International Marathon, where 35,000 runners from 95 countries pass many of the city’s landmarks in one fell swoop, from the Champs-Elysées to Bois de Vincennes and back to the Eiffel Tower. Or May’s Great Wall Marathon, which combines road running with climbing 3,700 of the wall’s stone steps.

Or else, if you’d prefer the camaraderie without breaking a sweat, consider the possibility of volunteering at an event. Passing out water bottles or cheering from the sidelines is likely to win a smile or a good story from appreciative locals or other sports-minded travelers. In Budapest, I even found the noisy crowd at the 7-kilometer marker to be more festive than bystanders at races back home.

For other race ideas, check out:
http://www.marathonguide.com/races/races.cfm?place=intl

It’s practically impossible, not to mention thoroughly restricting, to have all your pillows reserved before you head out on a trip, even if it’s only a 3-week stint. I know people do it all the time, but I think such pre-planned decisions often turn into unnecessary dilemmas.

Maybe you’ll want to hang somewhere a few more days than planned, maybe you’ll want to leave before, or maybe you decide to skip the destination all together.

Recently, ‘dancing dad‘ Tim Leffel addressed this issue in his Tripso column by saying that for many reasons web bookings can be disastrous, and half the cool places you could be staying in may not have an online reservation policy; the ones that do are mostly popular franchises, especially outside Europe and the US. So, you are probably better off just getting there and figuring it out — ofcourse, being wary of peak seasons.

Opportunities of booking your stays from the comfort of your own home for places in Asia might only be possible at Hostel World — those too are quite limited the minute you start exploring places like Nepal, India and China.

Having said that and having backpacked extensively, although I don’t plan much before hand, there is only one time I took a trip without having any faint idea of where I was going to sleep. I landed up squatting in the Balearic Islands for 4-days and it was the best trip ever.

It takes a lot of guts, confidence and humility to let yourself be at the mercy of the people at the destination you are visiting, but that could make the whole difference to your personal experience of the journey.

A good way to balance it out is booking the first night or two before you leave, and then figuring it out as you go along. If you are adventurous and open-minded, you’ll find a way, or if nothing else, you will definitely have a memorable story.

I recently came across Mark Moxon, a traveler who has had his share of the rat race, and now juggles his life between vagabonding, freelance web developing, producing and writing.

Pushed into it by the utter fear of having his own perfect peach bathroom, he quit his ‘proper’ job in 1995 as an escape from a predictable conventional life; ever since, he just hasn’t stopped. On visiting his website, I was thrown aback by the number of long trips he has made.

His first escape lasted 33 months where he traveled through Australia (twice), New Zealand, French Polynesia, Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, India (twice) and Nepal.

A million well-narrated stories to tell from this adventure, his website will keep you glued for hours, as, in his words:

It’s the story of a journey which was challenging, difficult and amazingly rewarding, a 33-month journey through one corner of the world, a journey that, even when my health had failed and I was stewing in my own juices in the middle of absolutely nowhere, made me realize that however bad life got, at least I didn’t own any peach-colored potpourri.

Mark also has a thing for long-distance walking. One of his most notable walks was 1111 miles from Land’s End to John o’Groats, in 89 days.

I walk because I like walking. You never know what’s around the next corner, and you never know what memories are waiting to happen, and although it might hurt sometimes, walking is a wonderful opportunity for thinking, meditating and getting away from the stresses of life.

“When I Walk, I Bounce” is the name of his latest book that was published earlier this year and recounts his walk across England. Should you be a walking enthusiast, on his Long Distance Walks webpage, you can find numerous trail ideas and itineraries

Mark also has his own travel-writing website where he has 490 tales from 17 countries and 1550 photos; alongside downloadable eBooks, audiobooks and podcasts.

Definitely one of the most comprehensive and motivating travel sites I have seen.