In the immediate aftermath of natural disasters, one thing is certain: Help is always needed. For vagabonders who are drawn to giving back to the global community, especially when times are tough, this offers a wide variety of ways to get closer to a culture. But what happens when the media coverage dies down and attention moves on to the next big thing?

While emergency needs in rebuilding a community may wane to a degree, natural disaster damage lingers long afterwards. In Indonesia, progress has been made in restoring health services since the 2004 tsunami, however residents in rural areas are still unable to access basic health care. The American Red Cross and its local partners continue to train volunteers to educate individuals in 140 villages about disease prevention.

The floodwaters from Hurricane Katrina have drained, but rebuilding assistance is still needed in New Orleans. Daily projects run by Habitat for Humanity, the St. Bernard Project and HandsOn New Orleans allow visitors to help residents of the Crescent City get a new place to live.

In 1998, Hurricane Mitch stalled over the Honduran island of Guanaja for three days, killing people, destroying homes and devastating the island’s natural resources. Today, residents have rebuilt and gotten back to daily life. But some areas of the island that used to be great mangrove forests have never recovered. I just returned from a trip to Guanaja where I was one of only two people who planted more than 2,000 mangrove pods—just a small part to help the area regain some of its native mangrove forests.

Whether it’s a large, internationally organized effort, or a small contribution by a handful of people, every little bit helps a community recover from a disaster—even years later.

Cartagena, Colombia. Photo from www.casa-escuedo.com

With all the bad news from the media, positive trends don’t get that much coverage. It’s easy to find news about where not to go. But how about an update? What often goes unnoticed is when dangerous places get safer.

Forbes Traveler had an article called Not-So-Dangerous Destinations. It goes in the opposite direction by trying to champion emerging spots for more daring travelers. The attached slideshow was a well of inspiration. I know it got me to add a few places to my travel wishlist.

As always, still do your research. Situations change, and sometimes the danger can move from one part of a country to another. Check out Hot Spots, a free online newsletter published by ASI Group, which offers “global risk management services.”  It’s a first-stop resource for many traveling reporters and diplomats. The newsletter offers incredibly up-to-the-minute reports on specific incidents and incisive analyses of the threat levels. You can sign up to have reports sent directly to your e-mail address.

Khao San Road (Bangkok, Thailand)

There are many places in the world where I’d happily sit, at two o’clock in the morning, on a dirty curb, watching urban nightlife take its course. One such place is Thailand’s Khao San Road.

Khao San (sometimes spelled Khao Sarn) is a 500-meter stretch of asphalt tucked away in Bangkok’s Banglamphu neighborhood. Except for the occasional tuktuk or delivery truck, it is a pedestrian thoroughfare, a veritable United Nations of a street paced by representatives of all six inhabited continents—but with dreadlocks and tank tops instead of suits and briefcases, as well as several tattoo shops. Khao San is also bookended by the sacred and the secular. By this I mean that on the eastern end of the road stands Burger King, on the western end a Buddhist temple complex.

One of the things I miss about childhood is simply the view. I’m 6’1” now, but once I was three feet tall and so I looked up on the world as much as I looked out on it. From the curb at Khao San, eye level once again with people’s thighs, things look different. I’ll sit on the curb at 10 p.m, midnight, or maybe even 4:00 a.m. Sometimes I’ll just sit, sometimes I’ll eat as well—a cone from McDonald’s, a chocolate milk or beer from 7-Eleven, a plate of pad thai from a street vendor. Sometimes a stranger will join me on the curb and we’ll talk about life. Usually I’ll sit alone though, and I’ll think things like, I’m on the far side of the world and I’m in the middle of the night, and the world is fascinating.

I’m aware that some readers will be aghast that I like Khao San Road. That’s alright. My point here isn’t that raucous Khao San, that dense Calcutta of backpackers and locals, is the epitome of travel. Rather it is that here, in this chaotic, amazing mess, there is a curb upon which one can rest his or her backside, and that there is value in such a curb, for by sitting on it we not only become still but are given the stature of a child. And these two things—stillness and childlikeness—are often key ingredients to wonder.

As soon as I’ve returned from a trip, I’m usually imagining where to go next. One of the first tools that I use in researching a destination is Google Maps.

A fishing village an hour north of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

Even the best guidebooks can’t give you the level of detail and overall geography that is made possible through worldwide satellite data. This view of Sayulita, Mexico clearly shows the triangular plaza in the center of town which appeared in the hand-drawn scribble from the owners of the guest house where we stayed, as well as the main beach and Playa de Los Muertos where we hoped to escape the crowds. – In order to watch a total solar eclipse this past July, the longest for the next 120 years, my wife and I traveled to a small spiritual retreat island in the East China Sea.

A small island southeast of Shanghai, China

Putuoshan is home to one of four sacred Buddhist mountains, and is dedicated to the worship of Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of Mercy. There is not much by way of maps available for the island, but here we could see the town and get a feel for features such as the boat dock and the One-Hundred Step Beach, and by cross-referencing a guidebook, the three pools in front of Puji Temple. Switching to the terrain view, you can also get a sense of the 1060 hand-carved stone steps one might need to climb to reach the height of Mount Putuo. – A few years ago, we went to Morocco and ended up in M’Hamid, a small town on the edge of the Sahara desert.

Erg Chigaga, in the Sahara Desert

We went on an overnight camping trip at the foot of Erg Chigaga, mammoth sand dunes that exceed what one imagines from a lifetime of such movies as Lawrence of Arabia and The Mummy. It was a truly magical experience to watch the sun rise and set over the desert, turning the fine Saharan sand different colors. While not as useful before the trip, this map gives an idea of just how remote and beautiful the desert was.

Maps give important context to understanding a destination, and now everyone has the world at their fingertips, in map, satellite, and terrain view.

No matter which continent they’re on, fort cities will pour a cauldron of boiling wonder over your head.

Fort cities are built on prime real estate–land that someone really, really wanted to hold onto. Whether the city proper is surrounded by walls or huddled at the foot of a fortress, there’s likely to be winding alleyways and an ancient market. You’ll find the old, tight neighborhoods of families who once cozied up to the army, hoping for a piece of protection, not to mention a stable economy.

There are superior views, made all the more enticing by the terrain you’ll have to scramble up to reach the lookout. You’ll hear some juicy tales and see the scenes of crimes and scandals. A fountain that caught lopped-off heads and gushing blood, for example. Chances are the fort’s fallen by now, and if it hasn’t, well, that’s a story too.

Fort cities have a rich culture, either being situated at a strategic geographic crossroads, or through sheer size and import having attracted ideas, trade, and invaders. And because forts tend to be the last part of a kingdom to fall, there might be the resonance of a recent changing of hands. You can feel the lingering presence of the previous owner, all the way down to the landscaping, the furnishings, and the smell.

Fort cities have a leftover charge of power in the air, as if they could explode into battle again at any moment. But they also have pockets of disarming beauty, possibly created in an attempt to tolerate living behind thick walls. Gardens, palaces, sacred spaces, architectural flights of fancy– these statements of love are often paraphrased throughout the city. Over time, their influence makes the fort city less of a stronghold and more of a refuge. In other words, just the type of place a wanderer needs from time to time.

Here’s a (very brief) list of fort cities worth exploring:
Granada, Spain, beneath the Alhambra
Jodhpur, India, beneath the Mehrangarh Fort
Gibraltar
Edinburgh, Scotland, beneath Din Eidyn, later Edwinesburch, later still Edinburgh Castle
Havana, Cuba
Dubrovnik, Croatia guarded by Fort Lovrijenac (seen above)
Ávila, Spain and its booming walls
Various walled cities in China, including Xi’an and the Forbidden City (not to mention the Great Wall, literally translated as “long city/fortress”).

How does the story of a place influence how you approach it? How does spending time in the presence of forts and other history-heavy works affect you?

Are fort cities really a good place to cozy up for a while? What other fort cities can you recommend?

Photo by VGonPa via Flickr

Brave New Traveler, one of the sites in the Matador Network, recently posted an essay on fear, specifically, on how fear can hold us back from our travels. In the piece, “Fear and Loathing: How Risk of Injury Can Inhibit Travel Plans,” the author writes that after she was badly injured in a bike accident, she worried that she would be too afraid to venture far from the familiar in the future. She wondered if the fear of being injured away from family, friends, and Westernized medical care would keep her tethered close to home.

If it was so easy for her to get seriously hurt in a first-world country, how much more likely would she be to suffer pain or illness in a remote place, she questioned. Her logic wasn’t without merit. There are some dangers we are more susceptible to on the road, simply because we are in an unfamiliar place. The routines and safety nets we stockpile at home can provide us a with a false sense of security. When we travel, we are stripped of most of those safeguards. We may not speak the language and we might stand out as foreigners. We’re not on home turf, and the same things make that exciting can also make it more dangerous.

But, it’s important to remember that while misfortunes can happen on the road, bad things can happen at home, too. People who take unnecessary risks may have more chances to get hurt, but those who take every precaution can still be injured or fall ill in other circumstances.  

The author concludes with the hope that her new fears won’t keep her from traveling but that they will help her be prepared, even though there will always be things out of her control, because “tragedies can happen to even the most careful people.”

Her final point is one reason why we should never let our fears keep us from exploring outside of our “comfort zone,” from taking chances, and from challenging ourselves. Because even if we don’t – even if we play it safe every day – we can never have complete control over our fates, and some experiences are worth a little risk.

[photo credit: stuant63 via Flickr]

Atlas Obscura

Do you like going to new exciting places, weird locations, and curious locales?  Are you not in America, so Roadside America just won’t do it for you anymore?  Do you have a touch of the Jules-Verne-I’d-like-to-see-the-world-in-a-balloon about you?

Try looking to Atlas Obscura for inspiration and amazement.  THRILL to the sights of the Sati Handprints.  MARVEL at Catherine de Medici’s secret medicine cabinet.  And MAKE A LIST by continent of the cool things you’d like to see. Using the Atlas Obscura.

“Measure travel inwards” is a quote by Henry David Thereau. I came across these three simple words several years ago and, taking them quite literally, they quickly became a sort of talisman to my personal travel style. One should never cheapen the thrill of seeing a place that they have until then only dreamed of but, to me, travel also follows a strong internal road and allows us to map to very the center of ourselves.

As Vagabonders, we agree that travel is about finding a greater sense of self while finding a greater understanding of the world. I feel stronger, wiser and more beautiful through my travels, and this is exactly how the world is likewise reflected back to me.

Travel throws us into a world of incredible external stimuli. We are constantly reaching out to experience a different culture, meet new people, master a new language. However, the true lesson of our travels is learned when we turn that reaching in on ourselves.

What does the measure of our travels mean? Does it mean the experience of another culture? How far we saw into that culture? Or is it how far that culture allowed us to see into ourselves?
Putting ourselves down in a foreign land forces us to adapt. Will you hold fast to the social routines of your off the road lifestyle? Or will you step outside of yourself and allow your typical behaviour patterns to be chipped away into something tailored to your unique experiences?

Sometimes the road leads us to understand that we’re not so shy after all, or that we are incredible care-givers, activists, or environmentalists. Sometimes it leads us to hidden talents or new professions.

What have you learned through the measure of your travels?

One of the coolest things about writing a book is hearing back from the folks who read it and took its message to heart. Based on recent reader emails, here are some reasons why people are finding Vagabonding useful and inspiring:

To spark a personal urge to drop it all and hit the road

“Read Vagabonding. Quitting my dreamless job as a mail carrier, finding new homes for my dogs, renting out my house, and taking off. Taking 2 years or whatever and seeing the world with whatever will fit in my backpack. I’m 45, divorced, no kids, no ties. I’ll be back. Maybe not. See ya.”

To lend philosophical grounding to travel ambitions

“I recently bought your book Vagabonding and am writing to say how much I enjoy reading it. I find it very inspiring. Your writing style is amazing, the references and resources are wonderful, I love the quotes and the travelers’ profiles. I also love the book’s philosophical depth that is so accessible and never rings hollow. It’s a book with a heart. It is the perfect read for someone who, like me, is planning their first solo travel abroad.”

To encourage the notion long-term travel with children is possible

“You helped me find the answer to a very serious problem I have been having. I was in the Army for 4 years and I spent those 4 years dreaming about the day my enlistment was over, and how I was going to “just bum around”. I ended up getting married and having a daughter towards the end of my enlistment and therefore, my plan was no longer a possibility. Now my daughter is 7 and I am single again and I want so badly to travel. I went to Africa earlier this year alone and it was amazing, but I need more. I have been trying to figure out how I could do this and still take care of my daughter at the same time and your book has answered the question for me. I can take her with me!!! I have thought of this before, but I guess I wasn’t looking at it clearly. I was too afraid. Whatever it is, I feel confident now that it would be a great experience for her. You really have helped me become clear about what I want and how I am going to get it and I am seriously grateful.”

To show friends why travel is important

“I love traveling, and when people ask me “why do you travel?”, I present them Vagabonding, because you wrote the best answers… thank you!”

To focus travel plans, and ease the transition home

“I really want to thank you for your book, Vagabonding. Your book found me at a time when I couldn’t pinpoint what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. You managed to succinctly and passionately express all that I was thinking and feeling. After reading your book I sold all of my things that couldn’t fit in my backpack and hit the road. I have just returned home after wandering around Alaska, SE Asia and Australia for a couple of years. It has been a bit challenging assimilating back into “normal life,” but I am able to approach each task with a renewed sense of enthusiasm and humor. I have made gift of numerous copies of Vagabonding and it really excites me to see others head off on their journey.”

Photo by Graham Turner. The Guardian UK

The NY Times Practical Traveler blog had an interesting article called For Americans, Plastic Buys Less Abroad. It brings back a lot of memories of having trouble paying for stuff abroad that we’ve all had: broken ATMs, credit cards that didn’t work, etc. The readers’ comments are well worth a read for the anecdotes about problems like these.

This is definitely a wake-up to check your credit cards, though. So far I haven’t had any problems, but it’s best to know before an emergency arises.

The comments also sparked a discussion about technology standards and how emerging countries may be taking the lead in innovation from the West.

How do you pay for things when you’re traveling? Got any advice? Please share your tips in the comments.