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Spreading the holiday love. Photo: TheChanel

BEFORE THERE WAS such a thing as Christmas, there was a tradition of winter holiday revelry and drinking.

Many of these drinks are tied to customs that are thousands of years old and meant to warm the body at the coldest and darkest time of the year. Here’s to bringing people together to celebrate life — let’s hope it never goes out of style. If you want to drink the old fashioned way, here are some holiday drinks you can make with a chaser of history.

Wassail

Wassail dates back to pre-Christian fertility rites when villagers would parade through their orchards in mid-winter shouting loudly and pouring cider on their plants in an attempt to scare away evil spirits and ensure a good crop in the coming season. Though this custom, known as wassailing, is still practiced in the cider-producing counties of England, it has more commonly evolved into a night of knocking on neighbor’s doors, caroling, and spreading good cheer during the holidays.

Could be trouble brewing. Photo: jeremytarling

The drink has not always been associated with a benevolent seasonal spirit, though. In the Middle Ages, wassailing was a time for peasants to knock on the doors of the feudal lords and demand food, drink and charity in exchange for well wishes of ‘Waes Hail’ or ‘Good Health’. If the rich did not oblige they were likely to be cursed or have their estates vandalized.

The Christmas carol we sing today, “Here We Go a Caroling” is originally “Here We Go a Wassailing.” And the classic, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” makes more sense if you consider that the wassailers would stand outside the door and call for the master to bring them a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer (wassail). They wouldn’t leave until they got some.

In commercial versions of these carols the words sometimes get changed, so try singing the originals this year and offer some steaming wassail to any carolers you encounter.

Here are some wassail recipes from History.UK.com.

Lambswool

Lambswool is a derivative of wassail, where the ale is shaken and stirred to form a large foamy head, then mixed with baked crab apples. The soft, fleshy apples floating in the fluffy froth are said to resemble lamb’s wool. The drink was very popular during a holiday called Twelfth Night, which falls the 12th day after Christmas, the day your true love should give you twelve drummers drumming.

Traditionally, Twelfth Night was a holiday marked by wild celebration and general raucous merriment when the royal and wealthy acted like the peasants and vice versa. A king’s cake would be baked with a bean in it, and the peasant lucky enough to get the bean in his slice was dubbed the Lord of Misrule and permitted to officiate over the feast and the entire upside-down night — that is until midnight when all returned to order.

At contemporary dining tables the king’s cake is often reserved for the children of the family. The bean finder may get a small gift or be the honorary lord of the feast while the adults indulge in a few pints of lambswool.

If you want to try making lambswool, you can go to HistoricalFoods.com to see how.

Hot toddy

A toddy is any alcoholic drink made with boiling water, sugar and spices. The traditional Scottish hot toddy is whiskey, boiling water, and sugar or honey with the optional addition of cloves, cinnamon, or lemon. Like most heated or mulled cocktails, it was created to bring some joy and warm spirits, emotionally and literally, to the dark and cold winter. The hot toddy and other drinks like it have become associated with the holiday season partially because the need for these spirits was strongest during the solstice.

A man serves up a hot toddy on a chilly winter road. Photo: nickyfem

Hot toddy was also probably invented to appeal to the non-drinkers of Scotland. The whiskey had a harsh, earthy flavor and was drunk more easily when heated and mixed with sugar. The origin of its name is debatable, perhaps derived from a liquor of the same name fermented from palm tree sap in India, or perhaps from Todian Spring which supplied Edinburgh with its water.

This winter, on those frigid nights when the breath plumes from your mouth like a chimney, why not duck into the dim light of your neighborhood pub, hang your hat by the frosy door, and dip into a steaming stein of Hot Toddy with the regulars?

About.com has a five minute recipe you can follow.

Hot buttered rum

While Europeans were drinking their toddies with whiskey, brandy or sherry, the colonists were taking advantage of a new resource: sugar. Refining imported raw sugar left a fortunate byproduct, and by the 1650s distilleries were making a liquor from the molasses called rum. Rum was one of the cheapest and most widely available drinks in the colonies and thus became the go-to spirit for the Yankees’ toddy needs.

At a time when the sanitary standards of drinking water were questionable, sterile liquor was a popular beverage, so people came up with creative ways to prepare their drinks. Hot buttered rum was also a great way to warm the lungs during the frozen Northeastern American winters.

Originally the drink was associated with secular holidays like Thanksgiving and New Year due to the Puritan belief of abstaining during religious holidays. But as restrictions mellowed, its popularity met in the middle and became a staple Christmas beverage.

Traditionally hot buttered rum is made with dark rum aged in oak barrels to mature the molasses flavor, though it can also be made with Captain Morgan for a spicier flavor or Bacardi for something milder. You can celebrate Hot Buttered Rum Day on Jan 17, which coincidentally or not is also the date of the original Twelfth Night celebration before the Christian calendar was introduced.

Here’s a recipe for hot buttered rum from Emeril Lagasse on FoodNetwork.com.

Hot Chocolate

Chocolate drink had been used for centuries as a healing and fortifying recipe by the Aztecs when Cortez encountered them in the 1500s. Their drink was cold, bitter, and flavored with spices and chili peppers. In 1528, Cortez returned to Spain, bringing cocoa beans and the chocolate drink recipe with him. The drink was so well-received that the Spanish kept their formula a secret for almost 100 years, during which time the recipe changed, becoming a hot drink without chiles with the addition of cane sugar.

In 1615, Spanish princess Anna of Austria introduced the drink to her new husband, King Louis XIII of France. News of the rich potion quickly spread throughout Europe and by 1657 the first chocolate houses were established in London and Paris. Later in the 17th century milk was added to the recipe, and in 1828 — 200 years after the drink was first conceived in Europe — a Dutchman named Hendrick Van Houten developed a technique of squeezing the cocoa butter out of the seed then cooling, pulverizing and sifting the remaining part. The result was something similar to the instant cocoa powder we pour into hot water or milk to make hot chocolate today.

Hot chocolate is a winter drink, and you can choose to see it as a commercial emblem of the holiday season. Even so, after digging out the car and shoveling the driveway, or battling blizzards on a cold commute, a warm cup of cocoa is hard to beat.

Check out five variations on hot chocolate at ChocoBlog.com.

Posset

In its simplest and most traditional form, posset was hot milk curdled with ale or wine and often spiced. This mixture has origins dating back to 100 AD when milk and eggs were revered as symbols of fertility and everlasting life, and alcohol had special significance in religious ceremonies.

A posset pot from the Netherlands in the late 17th or early 18th century. Photo: Wikimedia Commons

The ingredients would be drunk during festivals and offered to the gods in thick leather sheaths, which symbolized the armor of the warring cultures and was the only appropriate vessel for a masculine god. This custom prevailed into the Middle Ages, but as cultures became more “civilized” and fighting armor evolved, a pewter mug was used as the offering container instead.

A posset has three distinct layers: the frothy layer called the grace, a custard layer in the middle, and the alcohol at the bottom, which was served in a special posset pot. The pots were often made of silver and extremely ornate and were given for gifts at weddings and special occasions. They look like a hybrid between a teapot and a baby’s sippy cup, and the traditional way to imbibe is to sip directly from the spout rather than pour a cup.

Contemporary posset resembles a custardy desert that can be indulged in year-round, but the historical drink makes the list for perhaps its most lasting holiday legacy: egg nog.

Don’t be scared. You can make it by following one of the recipes at HistoricFood.com.

Egg Nog

This classic holiday drink is a descendant of posset. Nog was an old English term used for strong beer, and as the posset recipe evolved, revelers began mixing the nog with eggs. In Middle English, a noggin was the wooden bowl used to serve the egg concoction. And in the Colonies, where rum was rampant and a popular pseudonym for the potable was grog, the egg drink was called egg and grog.

He's a nog chugger. Photo: CosmoPolitician

The drink was originally only reserved for the English aristocracy as dairy products were scarce and expensive, as were the brandy or fortified wines they spiked them with. In America — where there was no shortage of cows and chickens, or inexpensive rum for that matter — the drink was widely drunk.

Egg nog has become a quintessential holiday drink in America and far more popular there than where it was originally conceived. You can make your own or buy a few cartons at your local supermarket, pour it in a large punch bowl and mix in some rum, whiskey, brandy, or if you’d like to go more traditional, ale. Then serve it to your friends and family as ultimately this drink is best suited for parties.

You can peruse recipes to make your own egg nog at EggNogaholic.com.

Tom and Jerry

The Tom and Jerry is a lost American classic made from brandy and rum added to a base of heated egg nog. It was created by Pierce Egan, a sportswriter in the 1820s, for publicity purposes to boost sales of his book Life in London: Or the Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn Esq. and His Elegant Friend Corinthian Tom. Because egg nog was used, the drink was particularly designed for Christmas.

The Tom and Jerry was a holiday staple for a century in America, until the ’60s when it all but disappeared from the country’s cocktail vernacular. This holiday season why not resurrect egg nog’s fallen comrade and drink a piece of Americana?

A Tom and Jerry should be served in an Irish coffee glass or a coffee mug. But if you want an authentic drinking experience, there used to be official white Tom and Jerry mugs that can still be found in thrift stores or on eBay.

The recipe for a Tom and Jerry can be found on WineIntro.com.

Apple Cider

Apple trees haven been cultivated since the times of the ancient Egyptians, and their fruit has been the symbol of knowledge, fertility, and immortality in countless fables and religions. Apple Cider in both hard and virgin forms has been a mainstay of the holiday season in which we’ve celebrated birth and youth for thousands of years.

Cider. Mmmmm. Photo: Special*Dark

By 1650, almost every farm in England had an orchard and cider-making facilities. The colonists took apple seeds with them to the New World, and as English grains for ale-making did not grow well in New England, they soon turned to apples for their spirits.

Cider was omnipresent in America, brewed by the tens of barrels for just one family for one season. In fact, the drink was such an essential part of American dining that when prohibition all but halted the production of cider, thousands of orchards were cleared for new crops as the famers saw no other useful purpose for the trees. Because of prohibition, this once-essential drink now has only a small niche market of drinkers in America.

Because of the timing of harvest and the low shelf life of virgin cider, Thanksgiving and Christmas became cider’s high season. During these cold months it was often mulled or mixed with hard liquors. The most popular cider cocktail was called a stone wall, which you can easily make today at your next family gathering by mixing cider with rum.

Making your own cider is a serious undertaking, but instructions on how to do it can be found here.

Swedish Glogg

Glogg goes by many names: glühwein in Germany, svařené víno in the Czech Republic, vin fiert in Romania. In English speaking countries, we know it as mulled wine. Glogg is from Sweden, where it is traditionally drunk on St. Lucia’s Day, a holiday that ultimately celebrates the victory of light over darkness. It also maintains many centuries old pagan traditions, including using fire as the rebirth of the sun and evergreens and holly as symbolic of lasting life through cold and darkness.

For your glugging pleasure, it's glogg. Photo: IIP State

These traditions derive from the ancient Nordic holiday celebration of Yule. When the Christians converted the Pagan Scandinavians to Christianity, rather than eliminate the deeply engrained traditions of Yule, they simply held their own holiday around the same time and adopted many of the same traditions. This holiday was called Christmas.

Because Glogg has origins with the Yule celebration and St. Lucia’s Day falls on December 13, it has become a drink for the entire holiday season. Additionally, in older times, wine would often reach the end of its shelf life during the winter months, so those who wanted to continue drinking palatable wine warmed it and added sweeteners and spices to mask the acidic flavors.

Historically in Sweden it was bad form for visitors to leave your house during the holiday season without being offered some hospitality, otherwise, the Christmas spirit would leave your home. To foster a warmer and more festive holiday spirit in your home, you can try it yourself. Glogg is often served in a glass, mixed with raisins and almonds and the best accompaniment is freshly baked gingerbread cookies or gingersnaps.

Here’s a recipe for Swedish glogg from Food.com.

A week on Maui can give you plenty of reasons to love your wife.

Bridget and I were lucky enough to spend 8 days on Maui and Molokai this past October celebrating our 7 year wedding anniversary. Travel has been a big part of our relationship and this was our chance to celebrate our marriage, friendship and connection as travelers.

Surf

YOU LOVE HER when you see her face, splashed with sea water and set in a stare of concentration, rise above the white tumult of the breaking wave. She extends her arms and pulls her legs underneath her and amazingly, she is surfing. The fear she felt seems to have dissolved in the break because she pops up on the board, her first attempt, and rides until the wave gives out.

Our surf instructor is named Jesse. He wears trunks and sunglasses and is nearly hairless with a shiny, taut Buddha belly. He is a pretty darn good teacher on account that he is patient and enthusiastic. But she’s clearly nervous on the walk to the beach where the surfing lesson would take place. She scans the breaks for hidden menace as Jesse nonchalantly chats about the danger of exposed shallows and possibility of falling headfirst into a bank of jagged coral.

Even so, she paddles out and I watch as she waits in the line up, staring towards the beach, giving nothing away of her fear. You hope that when it is your turn to attempt to ride your first wave that you exhibit half as much daring prowess.

Mama’s
You love her in that dress. You’ve never seen that dress and you wish she would never take it off. Well, almost never. You wish she lived in that dress. You close your eyes. Yup, that dress.

You slurp oysters from opalescent shells at your sea-fronted table and swirl wine in wine glasses, and this is how you have a nice meal at Mama’s Fish House. At the present moment you have been married for almost exactly seven years.

Mama’s reputation precedes itself by a few thousand miles. Before we had left the mainland I was asked by many Maui enthusiasts if I we would be dining at the seafood establishment. The devotional testimonies of happy diner’s suggested that the entire island exists to support the genius of this one restaurant.

The signature dish–Mama’s lobster, crab and Maui onion stuffed mahi mahi is macadamia nut crusted–is a serious contender for the best seafood dish you have ever tasted. Perfect flavor and prep aside, the menu, dated October 16, 2011, informs you that your fish was caught by Armando Baula on the north shore.

This detail colors the concoction on the plate with a history that I am altogether unprepared for. I found myself wondering, Who is Armando? What color is his boat?

You have kept your eyes off her that dress long enough to chew a few slow polite bites and watch others glance and linger in her direction.

Seven years ago she took your breath away in a certain white dress. You remember not being able to look away. Telling her she looks hot seems amateur. Beautiful sounds tired and gorgeous has lost its pizazz. Luminous? Fetching? Stunning? A stone-cold fox? Everything sounds dumb in your head and you wish you could say it with a look, whatever it was you wanted to say.

Turtle
Underwater underneath the twin pontoons of the big catamaran feels like a secret. Your skin chills as you pass under the boat’s shadow, a cool hand running the length of you. You both surface between the pontoons, below a cluster of people from your tour group who sit sucking BBQ chicken from their fingers and applying sunscreen. You are alone under the boat.

You want to kiss her, but she has a snorkel in her mouth.

Instead you dive towards a pair of angel fish and hope she follows. Now tilt your head up and watch her swim, watch her hair trail behind her. She dives towards you and the sea floor. You swear you could almost hear her gasp as the sea turtle you hadn’t notice glides into view 10-feet below. The animal looks as if it was flying, not swimming. It flies on scaly wings past you and you couldn’t follow fast enough to keep it from the blue nothing that swallowed everything eventually.

You look up and you notice you have lost your wife and everybody else on the sailing tour chasing that turtle and turn around to try and pick out her snorkeled head and flippered feet.

Sand
Remember the first few months of your marriage, when you sat side by side on beaches evening after evening in Costa Rica?

Settling in next to each other on the coral-punice sand of Molokai’s Dixie Maru beach turns the pages of your memory back to younger times when everything was imminent and life seemed to be just beyond the next stretch of sand.

Waiting for the sun to set on this patch of Hawaiian sand distills the stuff of life to this moment only. Only you two, only this sand. As long as the sun teeters in profound pinks just above the ocean you could be here. And if that never happened? If the sun never set, if it just hung there and bled into the storm clouds and colored her face, what then?

She combs the sand for bits of shell that she likes and places two in your palm.

You love that.

All photos by Joshywashington and Bridget O’Neill

Photo: Mike Licht, NotionsCapital.com

At Toronto’s Eaton Centre, a century-old tradition is going digital.

I’M A SUCKER FOR a mall Santa. Carols playing quietly to subdue antsy children. Glitter on your coat from leaning on the candy cane picket fence. The serious kids that bring carefully written wish lists. It’s cheesy and it’s profit-driven, but in my books, it’s pretty cute.

The thing is, as a childless adult, I can look at the scene all soft-eyed and nostalgic, then keep on walking to Cinnabon. For parents, I know, it’s a more taxing experience. Three-hour waits, fidgety kids, and overpriced professional photos.

This year, the Eaton Centre in downtown Toronto is launching an alternative to those long waits. The shopping center is skipping the Santaland tableau entirely and putting Saint Nick online. At the mall, families can book 10-minute Skype sessions with Santa Claus, sharing wish lists and Rudolph questions from the comfort of home, without the mall mobs.

Santa will be appearing in person at the mall for hourlong storytimes on weekends. Parents can book their children to hear a story from Santa and meet him briefly. Families coming to the mall outside those designated few hours? You’re outta luck.

Canadian news outlets seem to be having fun covering the story with disappointed parent soundbites. These interviewees roll their eyes at the online experience, expressing disappointment in the famous Toronto mall and saying that a real hug from Santa is worth the wait for their kids.

When I heard the news, my instinct was to scoff along with those irked parents. I have fond memories of lining up to meet Santa, feeling joy and awe at meeting the man himself. My parents still treasure those early photos of my brother and I on Santa’s knee, sporting 80s neon snowpants and matching haircuts.

Then again, 21st century children have a different relationship with technology. Growing up surrounded by screens, maybe they feel just as fulfilled from Santa-Skyping as my generation did seeing him in the flesh.

Probably the most geographically obvious place in the world, there’s far more to Gibraltar than The Rock. Sorta.

“GIBRALTAR IS WEIRD AND awesome.” That’s what I titled my photo gallery on Facebook days after settling into my new hometown of La Linea de la Concepcion, the little border town sitting smack between Spain and Gibraltar. I’m one of those hypocritical Facebookers that scoffs at relentless status updates but spends more time crafting a witty and well-thought-out name for the albums I’m sharing, but this time, I didn’t even have to try. That’s what it is. Weird, and awesome.

A few quick warm-up facts about Gib (aside from the fact that it’s a 1,200-foot, mile-long rock plunked randomly in the middle of a vast sea and flatland):

Gibraltar is a British overseas territory, but has near-complete autonomy with its own Constitution, elected Parliament, and even its own currency.

Aside from the Vatican and Monaco, it’s the most densely-populated political entity in the world, with more than 30,000 people living in less than 3 square miles. Even that number doesn’t demonstrate just how close the quarters are, though, as nearly everyone lives on a limited space of the west face of the Rock.

It’s one of the oldest-inhabited places on the planet, and the territory’s tiny “museum” has a 60,000 year-old human skull found in one of the Rock’s caves

Britons only make up about 25% of the massively diverse demographics on the Rock. There are about an equal number of Spaniards, along with a solid number of Italians and Portuguese, along with strong and visibly present Jewish and Moroccan communities

Most Gibraltarians speak English and Spanish, but they also have developed their own unique language, Llanito, an British English and Andaluz Spanish-based creole that mixes the two languages and picks up a long list of loanwords from Arabic, Hebrew, Italian, and other languages from around the Mediterranean.

It’s the only place in Europe home to monkeys. Yes, they bite.

With stereotypical red phone booths, Fish & Chips spots, and a ton of English signage popping up out of nowhere amidst so much Spanish and Arabic, Gibraltar is a weird mind-trip that any traveler looking for something unique should check out. Flights go in from the motherland daily, or just head across from Spain. Don’t forget to stock-up on electronics, jewelry, liquor and cigs–you’ll see what I mean.

The Rock Seeing the Rock for the first time is something magical. It comes out of nowhere, rising up like a mountain emerging from the flatlands, frozen in time. Here, my friend Meg lets it loom over her from about a mile away as she stands on the boardwalk in La Linea de la Concepcion, the Spanish border town before Gibraltar. To her right of the boardwalk are the massive, crumbled ruins of an ancient Roman fortress. It was demolished a few decades by Franco, paranoid that it could be used as a stronghold against him. Gibraltar's Hat An example of the "nube sombrero," or cloud hat, that always seems to be lurking over the rock. Even in the sunny Mediterannean climate, a large cloud is always there to remind the British expats of their motherland's overcast complexion. The beach here is in La Linea, where during the summer all the nightclubs and discos close up shop and move their operations next to the water. Girls, wear a tight-fitting dress--or the strong gusts of wind that pass through will keep you occupied. The Park in La Linea Across the Spanish border in La Linea de la Concepcion, one of the first things you'll encounter is a huge park of palm trees and dirt. It's the only park in town, and fantastically located next to the beach with epic, Jurassic Park-like views of Gibraltar. No one ever goes there, though, except high school kids on the weekend nights who leave behind a lot of broken glass. The entire park is filled with old World War II bunkers, along with a skate park, and on Wednesdays it's used as a giant flea market. Alleyways No matter where you go in the Campo de Gibraltar (the outlying area surrounding the Rock), its impossible to escape the peak's gaze. This particular alleyway is only about 100 yards from the beach. For whatever reason, the closer you get to the beach, the more barren and in disrepair the buildings get. Prepare for Fog Sudden bouts of intense fog are common, especially in the spring, as you can tell from these two views from the same Gibraltar-facing balcony. Pillars of Hercules In Gibraltar, one never forgets their place in geography--or history. Here you can see the Moorish castle from the 700s, now a tourist attraction/the city jail, hanging over the Rock as the mountainous Moroccan landscape lurks in the distance. According to legend, the Strait of Gibraltar was formed when Hercules was tasked with pushing them apart with his bare hands, giving them their nickname, "The Pillars of Hercules." Runway Anyone crossing the Spanish border into Gibraltar will have to cross over a fully-functioning commercial airstrip that divides Gibraltar from the mainland. It's probably the only place in the world where traffic jams occur due to plane crossings, and it's not uncommon for pilots to abort a landing when the winds get too strong. Instead, they just re-route to Malaga, or circle around for another try. Crossing the Runway Easily the most confrontational warning sign I've ever seen. But then again, the runway was also pretty pristine. Gib in the Rain Traffic in Gibraltar is mostly a mix of mopeds and lorries, with a few small cars and Land Rovers thrown in for good measure. While the town center is for the most part pedestrian-only, you'll be hard pressed to find a navigable sidewalk most anywhere that permits auto traffic. I recommend taking the bus if you're headed anywhere south. Smokin' Unlike Spain, Britain, and much of the rest of Europe, smoking is still perfectly acceptable in just about all of the bars, where the minimum drinking age is only 16 years old. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that cigarettes are completely untaxed here, going for around 12-15 pounds a carton. Several of the students I taught at school were suspended for cig-smuggling. They said their parents forced them to do it. Botanical Gardens One of the most overlooked places in Gibraltar: the Alameda Botanical Gardens. They're actually a great shortcut for walking up to the Upper Rock Nature Preserve, and offer a decent chance of a monkey sighting close to sea level. Seagulls and Statues A seagull finds a perch atop a statue of an old British general, probably looking for his friends. Gib is home to one of the world's largest bird migrations, with more than 120 species flying north with every changing season. So don't feel put off or unlucky if you're hit by a stray bit of bird poop. Up the Cable Car Looking up from here, near the King's Gate, you can make out the faint outline of the cable car that runs to the top of the Rock. There are three ways up the rock: by cable car, by hired van, or by foot on the trail. While it costs around $20 US for a round-trip cable car, if you're short on time, it's definitely the way to go. Pro tip: take a one-way up, and then walk the way back down, it's much cheaper, more scenic, and drops you off directly next to plenty of places offering a cold pint. Real Estate With over 30,000 people in less than a square mile of habitable real estate, builders get creative. This is some of the most expensive property on the Rock outside of the actual houses on the southern part of the island that have "real" yards and pools. Rent in Gibraltar is nearly twice as expensive as in La Linea, so many just walk across to work every day. Laundry With all the monuments and ruins and monkeys and nature, it's easy to forget you're in the middle of a city. Over the years, laundry-hanging techniques have become incredibly developed, probably due to the fact that I've never seen a dryer in all of Spain or Gibraltar. Hidden Staircase Most tourists never know it, but there's hidden staircase that brings you quickly up the Rock and drops you off at the Moorish Castle found just behind the city library. You'll know it when see it. Lookout Along the way up the Mediterannean Steps, you'll find plenty of picture-taking spots, and on a clear day the Costa del Sol is visible nearly all the way up to Marbella. It's also a great spot to look for dolphins and whales spouting up--though you're so high up they'll just appear as blips on the radar. Also a great opportunity to see if you can throw a stone into the sea from up here. You can't. Natural Recliner The top of rock is filled with craggy cubholes suited perfectly to reclining. While it may not be stuffed with down feathers or as "comfortable" as your leather couch, it's a view that's been seen by humans for tens of thousands of years, and not a bad one at that. The World's Highest Playground There are about 250 of the Barbary Macaques living on the rock, but you'll only see little guys like these at the top where they're well looked-after. I've never heard of a bird swooping in for a monkey abduction, but I'm sure it's possible. Beauty Parlor The monkeys, being the monkeys they are, are obsessed with picking each others' hair. If one jumps on your head, don't be surprised if they start giving you an impromptu scalp examination. Keeping Watch Monkeys never mind some alone time, especially on a sheer drop-off that would send them plunging hundreds of feet if they mis-stepped. In the distance, huge shipping boats, probably waiting to drop off fuel, drop anchor in the sea to avoid having to pay the mooring fee in the bay. Scaling the Rock It's hard not to be impressed by the ballsiness of the monkeys around the top of the rock, hanging on by their feet just a few inches or a slip away from sudden death. I guess that's how "Survival of the Fittest" plays out in evolution, though. Heading Down These stairs lead from the top of the rock all the way to the bottom, and are likely to be more difficult than if you came up through the Mediterannean steps, the trail that traverses up the nature preserve. You'll probably have to step over or around the monkeys, and seriously, use the rail, as the furry guys love to jump on your back while you're having a sudden moment of vertigo. Looking North La Linea and the hills of San Roque, seen from a lookout on the Rock's northern face. From here, you can see it all: the Bay of Gibraltar on the left, the Mediterranean on the right, and the border and airstrip in the middle. 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Cecilia is sixteen years old and a junior at Burton High School in San Francisco. She was one of six students who received the Matador Travel Scholarship and traveled to Nicaragua this summer with a non-profit organization called Global Glimpse.

MY NAME IS CECILIA YOUNG, and I am from San Francisco, California. Being only sixteen years of age, I feel that I still have a lot more to experience in life. That is exactly what Nicaragua gave me when I went there during the summer of my junior year in high school. A youth travel organization called Global Glimpse, as well as a youth leadership program called Coro, and the generosity of many donors gave me the chance to travel abroad to a place where I would never have expected to go. I was more than happy when I found out that I had been chosen for this amazing opportunity to go to Nicaragua.

I had never been out of the country before.

Before I left for Leon, Nicaragua, I didn’t know what to expect. I had never been out of the country before, so I was fairly nervous about leaving home for three weeks as well as not knowing over half of the people in my delegation. Also, not having any form of communication (cell phone) with me at all times was something I was not used to.

When I first arrived in Nicaragua, I thought that the humidity was almost unbearable. Right when I got out of the airport, I started sweating like I have never done before. When we finally got on the bus to our hostel three hours away, I thought that the next three weeks was going to be long and tiring.

Over the course of the next three weeks, I went to numerous places in Leon. At first, our leaders never let us go out in groups by ourselves, but as we got familiarized with the city, they gave us more freedom. One of the most memorable experiences that I had in Nicaragua was hiking up a volcano named Cerro Negro, and sand sliding down it. We wore goggles and some even wore full on sand suits. The board was heavy, but the climb up wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

At one point, one of our leaders, Austin, led us off track while we were going up the volcano; therefore, each one of us had to climb up a steep, rocky part of it even though it was a bit dangerous. I felt that was the best part of the climb because it got my adrenaline rushing and I love taking risks. Plus, I learned that rock climbing may not be so hard after all.

Other memorable events includes horseback riding as well as riding on a boat through mangroves to a secluded beach far away from the city of Leon. We also stayed at a beach house for one night where I was the leader of the day, meaning that I was responsible for keeping everyone on task and getting them to places on time.

I also remember looking for sea turtles in the middle of the night after we had a bonfire and made s’mores. All nineteen of us, all in high school, set out for an exploration to watch sea turtles lay eggs on a little island just a boat ride away. We walked for hours and hours along the beach, but unfortunately, we were unable to find any. Even after walking six miles until 2am, I felt that the experience was all worth it. It was warm outside and the sand felt good underneath my feet, and the stars above only added to the amazing night.

The biggest challenge I had to face was, hands down, my bug bites. By the end of the trip, I probably had over twenty-five total. They weren’t your average bites either. At first, I thought that they were spider bites because they looked like big blisters filled with water; but after having the doctor come and check them out, it was confirmed that they were flea bites. They were more than what I’d call disgusting. Because I also had an allergic reaction to the bites, my ankles swelled up and I couldn’t walk for a day. I ended up soaking my feet in cold water for hours, but the trip was well worth all the pain. I also caught a cold a couple of days later, but that was no big deal. For the last week of the trip, the bites almost didn’t even bother me.

We also taught locals English every day for two out of the three weeks we were in Nicaragua. This may have been the single event that I was most proud of. My students consisted of people my age and some even older. I worked with two other people from my delegation, and I felt that our class really appreciated us. Even though it wasn’t easy, I felt that I have made an impact on each and every one of my students may it be small or large. Knowing that I will be remembered makes all the difference. I even keep in touch with some of my students via Facebook!

Going to Nicaragua really changed my perspectives on the world, including America, as well as helped me learn more about myself. I found out that I really love adventure, and I love to explore new things and meet new people. I really appreciate new challenges put ahead of me as well as learning about a new culture. I feel that every culture is special in their own way and that more people should be given the opportunity to travel outside of their own country. You won’t know about the lives of another until you have actually stepped into their shoes and experienced their lives for yourself. Also, I learned that I really want to travel abroad in college and do what makes me happy. I want to major in international business when I grow up.

The women there were also more inspirational than I could have ever imagined; they were independent, hard-working women that had the power to persevere through any struggles in life.

I think one of the things that hit me the hardest during my trip in Nicaragua was the happiness of the people living there. Their smiles and laughter radiated even though they were poor and barely had enough to support their families. Most lived in shacks where they didn’t even have running water, yet they still had high hopes and retained a positive outlook towards the future.

The women there were also more inspirational than I could have ever imagined; they were independent, hard-working women that had the power to persevere through any struggles in life. Grandmas used machetes to cut grass and “mow” the lawn. Mothers and daughters woke up at 4 in the morning everyday just to cook and sell their products when they barely had enough to eat. Seeing this made me realize how much I take for granted in my own life. I may not be wealthy, but Nicaragua showed me you can be happy no matter what situation you’re born into.

After I got back home, I was so used to the lifestyle of living with eighteen other high schoolers in Nicaragua and waking up and eating breakfast with them every morning, that I didn’t want to be back in San Francisco. I had school the very next day, which made me miss Nicaragua even more. I missed the food there, especially the plantains, as well as all my students and leaders, including Jocelin. I think we had the best coordinators ever because they were all understanding and helpful in every way. One of the coordinators, Nicole, helped me throughout all of my bug bites and swollen ankle injuries. I owe her a lot. I still keep in touch with some people in my delegation, and I would relive those three weeks all over again if I could.

I recommend traveling to EVERY student because it opens up doors for more learning experiences as well as challenges you may never face ever again. You can learn new things, not only about yourself, but about others as well. Being exposed to a new culture and language is one of the most amazing things that can happen to a person. Even though you are placed in an environment where you aren’t used to anything, I feel that traveling is all worth it.

Thank you so much to Global Glimpse, Coro, and the Matador Travel Scholarship for making this opportunity possible. Without you all, I would not have had this life-changing experience!

Continue your support of Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund while traveling smart by purchasing travel insurance from Waterman & Company, a Travel Guard Insurance Broker, who is donating 20% of the net revenue from each Travel Guard product purchased to Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund. Click here to purchase.

With the team. Photos by author

Jose is seventeen years old and a junior at Mission High School in San Francisco, CA. He was one of six students who received the Matador Travel Scholarship and traveled to Nicaragua this summer with a non-profit organization called Global Glimpse.

MY WONDERFUL TRAVELING EXPERIENCE was given to me after I completed the six-month program Coro Exploring, which gave me the opportunity to apply for a travel scholarship to Nicaragua with Global Glimpse during the summer of 2011. I am a 17-year old junior at Mission High School from the city of San Francisco where I was born and raised.

Getting in a dance

During the start of the summer one single date was running through my mind every single day – July 27th 2011. Then on the night before the trip as I laid on my bed I couldn’t help but think, “Why am I doing this and am I ready for what’s to come?” Then I said to myself I barley know anything about my parent’s home country of Nicaragua and in a way I always felt that a part of my identity was missing. I never felt that I could relate to my family when it came to the point of sharing the same culture.

After several hours of deep thoughts I was at peace with myself and looked forward to the trip. Then came a moment where I felt my heart was frozen when I stepped in line to get through the Nicaraguan Customs line.

I honestly thought that something was going to pop up on their screen about my family’s past in Nicaragua and I couldn’t get into the country. Fortunately, nothing happened and as soon as we got on the bus we headed to the city of Leon on a long yellow school bus that resembled the ones we had in the States. As the sky darkened I had the pleasure of meeting some fabulous people who I am proud to say became like family and we were all on the same boat in an unknown country just letting the waves take us wherever they see fit. The experiences I would face over the next three weeks would leave an everlasting image engraved in my heart and mind of happiness, excitement and overcoming of fear.

Smores

One of the most memorable experiences I had was when we had a bonfire at the beach and had smores and told scary stories. I had the chance to bond with other group members. Then I remember taking a nice relaxing walk on the beach under the moonlight and feeling the warm water. It made you appreciate the natural beauty the country had to offer.

A moment of excitement for me was when we went horseback riding and the guy let me run at full speed and I was so pumped up on the horse. Then came my moment of fear when we were told that we would sand board down the side of a volcano. I was hesitant at first but at the end I am happy that I went through with it.

Finally, when I went to the hospital and saw the conditions the people have to deal with, it really made me realize how fortunate people in the United States are to have such nice hospitals and a fully trained medical staff and enough to go around. This made me sad up to the point where I want to make a difference not only in my life but in the lives of others.

When I came back from Nicaragua my parents noticed a huge a change in me. I had more knowledge about my family culture and a new found love for my heritage. I honestly hope that other kids my age are able to get an opportunity like this, because it allows students to see the world from a different point of view and see what life is like outside the U.S. It’s funny because when I left I had to give up all the luxuries I had in the U.S., but by the end of the trip I had gained so much more. I now have a better perspective on life and a new found passion to help improve this world of ours.

Continue your support of Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund while traveling smart by purchasing travel insurance from Waterman & Company, a Travel Guard Insurance Broker, who is donating 20% of the net revenue from each Travel Guard product purchased to Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund. Click here to purchase.

With the girls. Photos by author

Rosely is fifteen years old and a junior at Galileo High School in San Francisco, CA. She was one of six students who received the Matador Travel Scholarship and traveled to Nicaragua this summer with a non-profit organization called Global Glimpse.

MY NAME IS ROSELY VILLA. I am fifteen years old and I was born and raised in San Francisco. I have always wanted to travel and experience the world that surrounds me hands on.

This summer I had the opportunity to do so in the Adventure, Learn, and Serve delegation with Global Glimpse in León, Nicaragua for three weeks. This delegation had an itinerary jam-packed with adventurous activities, culture lessons, and service projects. The theme in itself caught my interest. Having service incorporated into the program made me want to take part in this specific delegation even more. Not only were we taking in the experience but also giving back to the community that welcomed us.

The delegation

Before leaving for my trip, I was eager to get out of the country to learn and explore Nicaragua. Though, I was sad to leave my family behind for an entire three weeks. Being away from home was a lesson in itself; it was a preview of how it may be when I leave for college.

I traveled with five other youth fellows of my graduating class from the Coro Exploring Leadership Program and thirteen other students from high schools around the Bay Area. My family and I were more at ease knowing I was traveling to another country with people I already knew. When we arrived in Managua we had to take a long bus ride from Managua to León.

The drive to León reminded me a lot about the Philippines, where I’m from. The humidity in the air and the many small stores lined up one by one were similar to those in Manila. I felt familiar with the city; I began to miss my family back in the Philippines even more than my family back in San Francisco. During my first week in León, I was feeling homesick from being in a place that felt like home but this home was not filled with the people that I loved and called family.

my new friend

My delegation had so many activities in store. The day we went to go swimming at the Crater Lake was one of my favorite days. The hike up was not easy due to the heat, but it was worth it because at the top there was one of the most beautiful views I have ever seen. The volcano was covered in lush green and in the center was the calm lake. The water was warm and bubbles rose with every step you took deeper into the lake. It felt good to focus on having fun and being worry free. Not everything was fun and games.

We participated in One Dollar Day, which truly gave me a glimpse of what world poverty can feel like. At the hostel we lived under the conditions a family living in poverty would every day. This meant no running water, electricity, beans and rice for every meal, and a lot of manual labor. We went out to a rural community, which was about a fifteen minute drive from the city, to work on the lands. What hit me the most was listening to the stories the families shared about their hardships.

The entire time we talked one thing that seemed to keep them strong was having each other as a family.

This day made me realize how much I take my family and the necessary things I need to live for granted. My most memorable day would be the Business/Reality Challenge day. My group woke up a three in the morning to help prepare chabchito con yuka with Lydia, a local street vender. She was kind and happy to have us there to help. Even though it was really early in the morning, it was fun learning how to make a traditional Nicaraguan dish. Lydia enjoys what she does for a living and has been doing it for many years. Everyone we met was friendly and open to share their stories with us.

a new perspective

At the hostel I stayed in a room with eight other girls. At home I share a room with my sister but this was a whole lot different. The room was almost always messy. The entire trip I had to take mental notes of where I put my things and make sure my stuff was neat and secure. Our room had a bathroom and we had to organize ourselves in a way so that everyone will get a turn to use it. I would have preferred a room with only one other person but I had to adapt to the living situation. Living in a room with eight other girls was not all bad. It was fun because we got to get to know each other a lot more.

The language barrier was a challenge for me. I knew some Spanish but I barely understood what people were saying. Our Global Glimpse leaders translated for the speakers we met, but I felt limited from the emotions the speakers felt when they said it. I noticed the other students in my group who were fluent in Spanish seemed to have more understanding and they got more out of it. This motivates me to want learn how to speak Spanish even more. One of the services we did was free English tutoring. I taught a class with two other students from my group, Yesenya and Nidhi, and the good thing was Yesenya was fluent Spanish. Our challenge was teaching a class that had different levels of English and planning a lesson so that it fit for everyone to learn. Since Yesenya was the fluent speaker of our group, she taught most of the lessons while Nidhi and I helped planned the lessons at the beginning of each day. Thinking of fun and creative lessons was not easy and I now see what it is like to be a teacher.

I was co-leader of the day with another student on our second execution day for our community service project. My leadership style was different then my co-leader; he felt that it was best to get majority and I felt a consensus should be made. He was rushing things while I thought there was no need to rush. Our leadership coach was there to help us settle things but we still didn’t see eye to eye. I tried to stay calm and understand his point of view.

A song

At the end of the day, we finished our community service project. Our purpose was to give the kids in a local hospital a place where they could read, play, or watch movies rather than sit in their beds all day. My entire group worked extremely hard to paint, clean, shop, and so much more to finish remodeling the children’s play area in the hospital. Seeing the many smiling faces of the kids and even parents touched my heart, I couldn’t help but smile too.

I didn’t want to go back home; going back home meant returning to a hectic schedule and my usual responsibilities. Two things I looked forward to going home to were seeing my family and friends and my mom’s cooking. School had already started and I missed the first four days. My first week back, everyone was moving like robots while I felt lost in what I wanted to do. I missed Nicaragua and wished to go back. I was in a place that was the total opposite of Nicaragua. San Francisco was cold and it felt empty and unexciting.

I used to be busy all the time trying to figure out what there is next on my things to do. Now, I am more laid back and I want to take the time to enjoy my life. Whether it be reflecting on my day or spending quality time with friends and family. I learned to appreciate these times even more. I see the world differently. It is more beautiful now than I have ever seen it before. I used to see the ocean as being a huge mass of water. Now I see it as majestic, peaceful, and relaxing. I find joy in breathing in some fresh air and taking in my surroundings. I also see the world in another perspective. It is really big, yet it is small.

Traveling to Nicaragua was amazing. It opened my eyes to a whole other world. Students my age should take these opportunities to travel because I learned a lot about the country and myself through this experience and I know they would too. No one can take away this once in a lifetime experience.

Thank you so much to all of the supporters who made this opportunity possible for me!

Continue your support of Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund while traveling smart by purchasing travel insurance from Waterman & Company, a Travel Guard Insurance Broker, who is donating 20% of the net revenue from each Travel Guard product purchased to Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund. Click here to purchase.

With the team. Photos by author

Yan Hua is seventeen years old and a junior at Balboa High School in San Francisco. She was one of six students who received the Matador Travel Scholarship and traveled to Nicaragua this summer with a non-profit organization called Global Glimpse.

I’M SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, a first-generation immigrant from China, and a junior in high school. Last summer I applied for a travel scholarship provided by the Matador Network to a program called Global Glimpse and got accepted. Knowing that I was going to Leon, Nicaragua with 18 youths from different high schools, my feelings were full with nervousness because I don’t know any Spanish, and English is my second language, but I was excited at the same time because I get to know more friends from other cities and states.

Why did I apply for this trip? I wanted to know how other peoples’ lives are like in a different part of the world, and I also wanted to challenge myself to step out of my comfort zone and try to make a difference in a community by becoming a better leader.

Last summer, on July 27th at 4am in the morning I carried my suitcases downstairs, said goodbye to my family, and then headed straight to the SFO airport to meet up with 18 youths. 7 hours of plane ride seemed longer than usual because everyone was in their own little world in anticipation of what was going to happen.

The house they lived in was dark and the only thing they had in the house were four net beds; the food they ate was not enough; the animals they raised were skinny, but the family always had a smile on their face.

When I first arrived in Nicaragua an image appeared immediately in my mind. It felt like a dream from my past when I came from China to the United States at the age of 13. But even that experience was different because at that time, I knew a little bit of English and I went with my parents. This time I went with strangers and didn’t know any Spanish. But because of my previous experience of having to adapt to a foreign county, it helped me to adapt to arriving in Nicaragua a lot easier. I quite appreciated that.

After spending three weeks with a packed schedule in Nicaragua my point of view of the people and of the world has been changed forever.

I clearly remember the day that we could only “spend a dollar a day.” We went to a small village, separated into four groups and spent the day in four different low-income families. The family I visited was a family with a mother and father who have four sons and one daughter. The house they lived in was dark and the only thing they had in the house were four net beds; the food they ate was not enough; the animals they raised were skinny, but the family always had a smile on their face.

Market days

At that moment, I realized we shouldn’t take anything for granted. We should be happy about what we have and shouldn’t be complaining about what we don’t have. They spend less than a dollar a day but they still enjoy their life and they still work hard to make their life better.

Carrying water from the well was so fun. It was really heavy and hard to carry. When you walked, the water splashed on your shirt and after you got back to the house, only half the amount of the water was left in the bucket. I still remember one of my friends put it on the top of her head to carry it. It was rainy that day but we all had fun on a rainy day. It was my first time that I really enjoyed a rainy day because it took away the heat.

August is the best month for sea turtles to lay eggs, so we decided to explore the nature during midnight on the beach to look for some sea turtle eggs. That night we also had a bonfire and shared scary stories. After sharing stories, we walked miles and miles to look for the turtles but didn’t find anything. Some of us decided to lie on the beach to take a break.

At the beach

Enjoying listening and looking at the nature made me feel so relaxed. I soon found out that my life was so busy back in San Francisco; I need to slow down a little bit and enjoy it more.

We also spent two days on another beach and I learned how to surf! It was an interesting experience to have in my life. That was my first time I went surfing and I did get up at least three times. When you saw the waves coming, it was sort of scary. The water force was strong and out of control, but I like challenges. When you did it, you would feel a sense of success.

Different countries have their own languages as well as Nicaragua. I couldn’t stay in my own comfort zone anymore because my surroundings are people who speak Spanish. I have to take a step forward to try to understand them and their culture. It’s really a challenge for me to communicate with them.

Learning English as my second language and having to learn Spanish at the same time was really difficult for me to do, but I got over it. I tried my best to learn some basic phrases such as how are you? Where are you? And I knew how to count from one to twenty in Spanish. Even though it was just a few words and phrases, I did try.

Work day

We also did a community service project at a hospital. That was one of our accomplishments that I was most proud of. We rebuilt a children’s playroom, so the children at the hospital could play in it. We separated into different groups and had our own responsibilities to complete our own duties. After the whole trip, it totally changed my perspective about the world, the surrounding and the people. People who have less are happy about their life and able to work hard to make it better. I should not take anything for granted; I shall give thanks for what I have now. When I work, I should think and do it, not just do it without thinking.

After I returned to school, I enjoy my school year more. I have better time management and I have more fun in classes. I feel my lifestyle has become more relaxed and I am passionate about making a change in my school by taking a leadership role. I won’t let this feeling go away, I will keep it by telling my stories to my teachers, my classmates, and my friends in order to inform, engage and inspire more youth to step up and make a difference in the community.

I would like to thank Global Glimpse, Coro and Matador for making this opportunity to travel to Nicaragua possible and changing my perspective on the world.

Continue your support of Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund while traveling smart by purchasing travel insurance from Waterman & Company, a Travel Guard Insurance Broker, who is donating 20% of the net revenue from each Travel Guard product purchased to Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund. Click here to purchase.

All photos courtesy of the author.

Evelyn is seventeen years old and a junior at Berkeley High School in Berkeley, CA. She was one of six students who received the Matador Travel Scholarship and traveled to Nicaragua this summer with a non-profit organization called Global Glimpse.

THIS SUMMER, I was privileged enough to go to Leon, Nicaragua. I got to experience 21 days (July 27-August 16) in the beautiful country with 18 other Global Glimpsers. I feel very blessed to have been given the honor to spend those 3 weeks in another country at the age of only 17. Being from Berkeley, California, I don’t get to experience much of how the world really is. Not that California isn’t real enough, but in Leon, it just felt more human. In the US, I feel like everyone has two lives: their electronic life and their human life. Over there, I got to leave my electronic life behind and it was amazing.

Before we left, I was super anxious. I couldn’t sleep for my last two days in the States. Since my freshmen year in high school, I remember walking through the hallways and looking at the pictures on the hallway of the seniors who had just returned from their trip to Nicaragua. I’ve wanted to be on the 2011 trip ever since I started high school but I never really thought it would happen. It seemed like too much of a blessing then, even a week before departure.

I wasn’t looking forward to a lazy summer getaway; I wanted to experience a new culture.

Being able to represent my high school, Berkeley High, felt like such an honor, but it was a little terrifying because I knew we would have to meet 17 new people from different schools. But, the blessings kept coming. I found out a month or so before we took off, that I actually knew 6 other people that were going to be on that same trip. I had spent the summer before in another amazing program called Coro Exploring Leadership, in which I met Christina, Isaac, Rosely, Yan Hua, Cecilia, and Jose – my new Global Glimpse travel buddies. It was very exciting and I couldn’t wait to be reunited with them and share another great experience with them.

The reason I wanted to go on this trip, was for the experience. I wasn’t looking forward to a lazy summer getaway; I wanted to experience a new culture. I wanted to learn how to live away from my family. I wanted to get real and see how other people lived. I needed a reality check.

When we first arrived in Nicaragua, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly hot it was. The sky was grey but we were melting. The people at the airport were so friendly and as we were on the bus heading from the airport in Managua to the hostel in Leon, I was looking out the window and realizing I was far from home. Everyone was riding on bikes, kids were in uniform, school buses were everywhere (only they were being used as public buses), there were vendors everywhere, small businesses on every corner, mostly women and children walking the streets, posters of president-elect everywhere, churches everywhere, dirt roads, bright colored walls, and not a stop light in sight. It was so different.

One of the days I remember most was Poverty Day. We were challenged to spend the whole day without our iPods, internet, lights, and running water. We went to a small community where most of the families there got by earning around $1 a day. We were split into groups and sent off into different directions to people’s homes to help them with their daily chores.

It really opened my eyes to see how different people live over there.

My group was sent off with a lady who spent most of her days alone at home. She didn’t have much shelter, but she had a big piece of land. We helped her with her yard work, which was kind of hard. Michael and I got to use machetes to cut down a large section of plants in the hot sun. We felt so accomplished when we were done, I felt like we helped her a lot.

Later in the day, the clouds rolled in and the warm rain came pouring down as we were cooking on the outdoor stove. The lady talked to us about her life and how her husband and sons were working in Costa Rica, and how she spent most days alone. It really opened my eyes to see how different people live over there. She was only 34 years old and already had two grown sons and grandchildren. She would stay home, waiting for her grandchildren to visit and she looked older than she was. When I think about the 34 year old women in the States, I think of working, independent women who can go out to the movies and to the park, to the coffee shops, and can plan their own life out.

It was sad to see her there, but she seemed happy so I learned a little more about perspective and how we were in another world. Things aren’t the same everywhere but I really wish she could experience some of the rights and opportunities women have here. Poverty Day was very memorable also because the 19 of us grew a lot closer that night. We all circled around the candle light at the hostel and just talked. We played games, shared funny stories, and just laughed.

A few other moments I’ll never forget, were at the beach. One night, we walked for hours and miles, looking for sea turtles along the beach. The stars were out, the water was still warm, it was dark, the sand was smooth, and we were all together. We all bonded with different people in the group. The whole time, I was thinking, “It’s midnight, and I’m on a beach in Nicaragua.” That night, I got to sleep on a hammock in a beach house. The next day, I got to surf for the first time and although I didn’t stand up all the way, it was really fun. Later on, I was tackling the waves with everyone and having a great time.

English lessons were the best, though. I got to teach a class of about 12 students with Atsina. The students were awesome and I couldn’t have asked for a better partner to have been paired up with to teach them. They were always open, extremely friendly, and quite the comedians. Everyday with them was a great day. They were very outgoing and every single one of them holds a spot in my heart. For their graduation, which was also our talent show, they wanted to sing a song with Atsina and me, which made us very proud and we all had a lot of fun doing it.

Another amazing moment, which was actually on our last day in Nicaragua, was when we went horseback riding. We went through a beautiful forest with trees that had branches that wrapped around each other so sweetly. There was a light shade of green everywhere and it was quiet and peaceful. These were my favorite scenes of the trip.

For me, I think the biggest challenges were when I had to be assertive. I was pushed way out my comfort zone when I had to be leader of the day. I had trouble asking people for help so I tried to do everything myself and stressed out even more. I realized that it’s ok to ask for help and leading the group has a lot to do with asking something of the group first. By letting myself get stressed, I radiated the feeling throughout my group and learned that it was my responsibility to set the scene and feel. It was tough trying to get to the whole group but we made it through.

Another challenge was turning down pushy vendors. I wasn’t used to having people in my face trying to sell me something and I felt terrible when I had to say “no.” I often had to have my travel buddies accompany me and help me turn vendors down. It was very tough and it broke my heart every time we had to walk away because I knew that that was their form of income, but the Glimpsers helped me understand that everyone had their selling strategies and that it wasn’t up to me to pay their bills.

I learned some lessons that I expected to come back with, but I also learned a lot about things I never really thought of. First of all, I learned about the culture, the city, the people, the history, and the relationships they all had with each other. People there were really tight and could rely on each other for anything. It was nice seeing such a close community. I learned how to appreciate the simpler things, like a regular walk. Here, in the States, a walk around the neighborhood meant walking to the bus stop ignoring everything with my iPod on blast.

In Leon, walking through the streets was so much more. The streets were so bright, there was music in literally every corner, and the people were so nice. Every one smiled at us and people were everywhere. The streets were packed during the day and it was nice taking a walk, getting to say hi, getting familiar with the people and businesses. I learned that we take things for granted at home: running water, clean water, air conditioning, easily accessible electronics, education, freedom of speech, women’s rights. We have beautiful parks and trails here, but since we have phones and internet lives, we ignore the nature and don’t acknowledge the breeze or the colors.

I learned a lot about myself in Nicaragua as well. I had no idea what I wanted to do career wise as an adult, but my vision got clearer. Through the English lessons, I learned that I might be interested in education as a career. I felt so good seeing the students receive their diplomas and I really want that feeling again. I loved teaching them and answering questions and seeing that look of understanding on their faces. I’m not sure if I want to be a teacher, but I want to work with people, I want to help them and be involved in education in some way. I’m definitely considering it. I also learned that I like being away from home. I was kind of sad when I learned this about myself but I think it’s a good thing at the same time.

Sometimes the truth is kept hidden and one can’t see it until they look at it through another perspective.

I like being away and learning things on my own and being on this trip made me realize what kind of global citizen I want to be. I want to study abroad for college and I definitely want to travel after. I don’t plan on leaving the States for good, but I just want to be aware of my surroundings and what goes on beyond this country. Sometimes the truth is kept hidden and one can’t see it until they look at it through another perspective. I want to keep learning so I could have stories and lessons to bring back to my family and friends.

My first week back home felt so unreal. Being in my own room again, I felt so spoiled. Going back to work the very next day after I landed, I felt like I had to go back to this routine but I just couldn’t fit the same way as I did before. I’d gotten so used to living in a simpler way. I woke up early every morning, made myself breakfast, and I was ready to leave. The problem was, there was nowhere to go. I felt alone when I didn’t wake up to breakfast with 18 other faces. I didn’t have them to walk around with. Every day, I woke up and wanted to go out now, not to the store or to the movies. I just wanted to go on a bike ride or walk around the block. That first week back was definitely confusing and I think it was harder adjusting from Nicaraguan life back to life in Berkeley, than the other way around.

Being back and paying more attention to how things are here, I feel like I’ve grown so much. I would definitely recommend this trip to anyone my age. It’s really eye opening and especially in this generation where most teens are high maintenance and addicted to technology, I think getting in touch with nature and real life will change their perspective on the world and encourage them step up in their communities and teach what they’ve learned. It’s done this for me.

Thank you to Global Glimpse, Coro and all of the people that donated to make this amazing opportunity possible for me and the other students!

Continue your support of Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund while traveling smart by purchasing travel insurance from Waterman & Company, a Travel Guard Insurance Broker, who is donating 20% of the net revenue from each Travel Guard product purchased to Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund. Click here to purchase.

All photos courtesy of the author.

Christina is sixteen years old and a junior at Oakland High School in Oakland, CA. She was one of six students who received the Matador Travel Scholarship and traveled to Nicaragua this summer with a non-profit organization called Global Glimpse.

BEING ONLY SIXTEEN, and having the opportunity to travel to a different part of the world was a life changing experience. As a junior attending Oakland High School, this past summer I was given the opportunity to travel to Leon, Nicaragua for three weeks through a program called Global Glimpse and a Matador Travel Scholarship.

The one-week countdown before leaving was when I was ready for life. I never wanted to travel and get out of Oakland so bad. I was ready to explore a new country, meet new people, and make memories that would stay with me for a lifetime. I had some mixed feelings days before the trip about leaving home for so long and being out of my comfort zone. But in the very last moments when I was zipping up my suitcase to leave for the airport, I had no regrets and was so happy to leave home.

July 27th came, the start of a trip that changed my life forever. It had to be the most emotional, and longest day I’ve gone through. Surprisingly enough, for the first time in my life I became homesick, and this was one of the hardest things I had to cope with during the whole trip.

Besides being home sick, I faced a lot of different challenges. I was faced with learning and speaking Spanish. Coming to a country, and not being able to speak their fluent language, is a big struggle. There wasn’t really a way to communicate with each other without body gestures.

Throughout this whole trip everyday I encountered something new. Whether it was food, people, or pictures, it made me open my eyes to what’s real, and not being so closed in to one little part of the world in Oakland. Understanding, and living in the life of a family who only lives on a dollar a day like we did on this trip, made me appreciate my family, and what I have at home. Having a first hand experience of poverty in the world, hit me in the heart.

Back in the States, I always hated my home, the food, and my family. I never appreciated the house over my head, and the people who will always be here for me. Having a first hand experience of poverty in the world, hit me in the heart. What I have is so much compared to those who are a part of the kind of poverty we witnessed on our trip.

Along with learning about the poverty, culture, and history of Nicaragua, I had a lot of first time experiences as well. First time leaving the country, and being so far from my family; first time I ever encountered a volcano and climbed it, then sand boarded down; learned to surf, and went searching for turtles; saw fireflies and a shooting stars for the first time in my life. I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for the experience I had on this trip.

My biggest overall accomplishment on this trip, was becoming somebody I’ve always wanted to be. It may seem strange, but before this trip I always wanted to do something big to help somebody, and spend life in someone else’s shoes.

Rebuilding a children’s room in a hospital in Leon, Nicaragua will leave a big impact on you. My team and I had only two days to get this project done. Through the fights, sweat, tears, and laughs we pulled through and finished off the room. This was something all the kids had been waiting for. Seeing the smiles across their faces, made me smile and feel good inside. I never felt so accomplished in my life.

Three weeks can change your life. I kept my eyes wide open, and lived a different life. This trip opened my eyes to a world that I never dreamed of. It is so different compared to back in the States. Everyday I still think about our experience, the people I met, the memories I made, and the smiles I shared in Leon, Nicaragua. It takes a trip like this to let your mind explore the rest of the world that’s waiting for you.

Thank you to all those that helped make this opportunity possible!

Continue your support of Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund while traveling smart by purchasing travel insurance from Waterman & Company, a Travel Guard Insurance Broker, who is donating 20% of the net revenue from each Travel Guard product purchased to Matador’s Youth Scholarship Fund. Click here to purchase.

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THIS JAPANESE CANDY is for some silly reason called Kracie Gummy Tsureta Grape. As if it wasn’t enough that the candy is a bizarre concoction of color sugar goop, the name has to be profoundly confusing.

Call me old fashioned, but what the fuck!? This is not candy, this is some frightening transmogrification of candied substances.

I imagine it was created by some mad scientist but it was probably some stoned intern playing late one night in the candy lab. And how much packaging does one gooey pile of slime need? You are left with a pile of baggies and a plastic tray with two utensils after you are finished slurping it down.

This video caught my attention on Youtube and I am not alone. This footage of the mutating candy got over 12,000 hits in the first four days of being uploaded. Not bad for an oozing mass of glop.

If, out of morbid fascination you want to order some of your very own Kracie Gummy Tsureta Grape, be my guest.

Video created by Viral Video Kings

Photo by Loozrboy

I’ve been enamored with the process of roasting and eating pigs for a long time.

OR I SHOULD SAY, I love their crispy, butterfat skin and the idea of roasting one on my own. When my husband Isaac and I got married, we decided to have a pig roast. However, two details interfered with our plans: there was a burn warning in Arkansas in late July when we tied the knot, and the only person in our neighborhood who had experience roasting pigs was a convict with a known drug problem. “Do you want to invite him to the wedding?” my dad asked.

I have had to make up for not eating roasted pig at my wedding by searching for the dish in Spain, on the atoll of Atafu, and, most recently, in Ubud, Bali. Is there anything more endearing than a plump, crisp pig on a plate that looks as if it were thrown in the oven running? How lovely to have fatty food arrive in an athletic stance! Roasted pig is so tasty that I don’t even begrudge it the crispy hairs that aren’t burnt off in the oven.

Roasted pig is so tasty that I don’t even begrudge it the crispy hairs that aren’t burnt off in the oven.

In Bali, my best friend Tien and I shared a taxi from Kuta to Ubud with a vegan, and we made the mistake of inviting her to eat suckling pig with us. Alas, she did not join us at the famed Ubud restaurant Ibu Oka for lunch.

Pork lovers spilled out onto the street drinking beer and carousing as they waited in line. I pushed my sweaty body into the crowd, walked past women stripping huge, golden suckling pigs of their tastiest bits, and tried to edge my way towards the shared seating section where strangers sat cross-legged side by side at low tables as they licked their greasy fingers.

I love seating that forces me to share a table with strangers. In this instance, I sat with four Aussie women who had been best friends for fifty years and regaled me with their stories over cold Bintang.

Once seated, Tien and I ordered baskets of suckling pig with blood sausage, more Bintang, and two whole coconuts. I cooled my face, hot from the Balinese sun, on my bottle of beer. The basket of assorted roast pig included pieces of crispy skin and meat spiced with garlic, chili, ginger, galangal, turmeric, and bay leaves. May I please write an Ode to the Gods of Turmeric:

Photo by rollanb

Turmeric, the spice of choice

to rub on a roasted pig

and on my tired body

when I go to the Balinese spa.

O’ may I be as fragrant as the pig, but not as tasty.

The whole meal would have cost us under 500 rupiah ($10USD) per person if we had not made the mistake of thinking that the mangosteens piled on the table were free. Tien and I cracked open the burnished plum skin of the fruit to reach the sweet, white flesh within. We ate and ate, until we had mountains of mangosteen skins surrounding us.

Eventually the waiters noticed that we were surrounded by a fortress of mangosteen remains, and they began to laugh. When we asked for our bill, the waiter came over and began to sort through the mangosteen peels to count how many we had eaten – sixteen. They ended up costing the same amount as one order of suckling pig. Our mangosteen eating spree must have been memorable, because several days later when we ran into our waiter on the street, he grinned at us and asked if we wanted more mangosteens.

Photo courtesy of Ethnotek

This video takes a look at the origins of one line of Ethnotek bags.

I’M A PRETTY BIG FAN of Ethnotek bags (which is no secret). Their mission and story are pretty incredible, as are the bags themselves. A quick reminder of why:

1. All bags are limited editions.

2. It typically takes a family 2-3 months to hand-dye and weave only 25 yards of intricate textiles like the ones featured in these bags.

3. Ethnotek never dictates what designs the weaver works on.

4. This non-intrusive sourcing model allows them to continually update their line in small batches.

The THREAD, or front panel of the bag, is removable. And Ethnotek has just released their latest collection for the holidays – eight striking new designs. If you’ve already got an Ethnotek bag, you can purchase a new THREAD separately. If you don’t have one yet, features include an 84-denier ballistic nylon body, side slip, zipper and mesh pockets, snap-buckle straps for yoga mats and tent poles, a compartment for 15-17” MacBooks and PC laptops, a padded back panel, airmesh to reduce back sweatage, and padded shoulder straps.

Plus, you know, they look really cool. And this video gives a little look into just how much work, care, and time is put into every single THREAD.

Batik Hunting from Ethnotekbags on Vimeo.

Get wet and go looking for sharks!

ROBIN ESROCK knows how to have a good time. The Vancouver based travel writer grabs his GoPro and dives into the clear waters around Malapascua Island in search of thresher sharks.

Thresher sharks are easily recognized by their extremely long tail, so when a thresher glides into view of the cameras there is no mistaking it. But it isn’t just the impressive apex predators that make a great underwater experience, all the other, cuter, critters that swim, scuttle and crawl among the reefs are just as fascinating.

Granted I have never seen a shark in person, and I honestly don’t know if I want to, but I do love me some snorkeling. If you are lucky enough to be toweling off from a swim in the Philippines you are probably lucky enough to do some mountain trekking shortly thereafter.

Video created by Robin Esrock

The night drive. Photo by Edward Webb.

WEST PLEASE.

THAT’S WHAT MY SIGN says. I watch a human-with-a-sign-shaped shadow stretch in front of me as the daylight slowly vanishes and the clouds behind me burn a deeper shade of pink. My first ride dropped me off about an hour and a half ago. Now I’m coming down from that high into the reality of wanting a quiet place to crash.

I’m a bum in my spare time and a student in Montreal when necessary, and this year planting is financing the climbing. But right now, it’s the bumming: the unexpected places, the spontaneous encounters, the ultimate destination–in this case, western British Columbia. I look at the terrain behind me, the sort of land we planted, a cratered swamp with young trees growing from the dry spots. Even if I had a hammock, they couldn’t support me.

The view from my first ride.

Then, for a thousandth time, I hold my sign up and smile at a car coming out of the intersection. It’s a boxy blue-green van with rust-colored trim. It stops about 50 meters past me, and I hoist up my climbing pack and jog-run to the door as it slides open. They’re headed straight to Winnipeg. I didn’t expect such luck, considering it’s getting dark and Winnipeg is 700 km away. I climb in. The middle seat had been removed and all the others are occupied, so I take my implied position on the floor, leaning against the wall and my pack. Again, I feel that high of progress and improved circumstance. I’m no longer on the shoulder. I’m going somewhere, and each minute, that somewhere moves about a mile closer.

I attempt a pleasantry exchange with my new hosts. They all look like they’re in their late twenties. Behind me a tall, muscular man blazes a joint. Down his forearm a tattoo reads “Larisse” in curly letters. A fairly large woman with a curly-lettered “John” tattoo on her upper arm is crying into his lap. The man introduces himself as the John, tells me that Larisse is coming down from an alcohol high of her own, and busies himself comforting her. In the passenger seat, a pretty girl called Ivy carelessly kneels barefoot. She is the friendliest, and asks the usual questions hitchhikers get asked. The driver, Chris, doesn’t say much, but when somebody speaks he gives a knee-jerk “huh?” that sounds more like “hah?” in its nasality. I learn that Chris is John’s brother and Ivy’s partner, and that the four of them have been driving continuously from Toronto. Nobody seems eager to talk—even Ivy is slightly distant in her friendliness and small talk—so I don’t ask questions and assume they’re on a road trip.

We drive on into the darkness of vast Canadian woodlands. We’re in prime moose country, so Chris recruits me take the lookout for potential collisions. Somebody brings up a previous hitchhiker and how they made him drive, although he had tried to talk his way out of it. I plan to deny having a license if it ever comes up.

After midnight, Chris sees that we’re running low on gas and have been for a while. Gas stations are sparse, and at this time of night, probably closed. I’m not sure why he didn’t just buy gas in Thunder Bay, but I’ll know later. In the next “town”—just an inn and a couple houses—Chris intends to siphon gas from a parked car. Before he gets the chance, the inn’s owner comes out to question us. We ask him for gas, no luck. So we keep driving, and we hope.

We cover about 5km before the engine stalls and we coast to a stop on the shoulder. I’m torn between feelings of cluelessness and pragmatism; I’ve never run out of gas, and I’m very tempted to abandon my hosts and pitch my tent just off the Transcanada until morning and try to catch another ride. However, if I stay with them, I’ll have a ride when they somehow do manage to get gas, which could be before morning. Chris decides to walk back to the inn and give siphoning another go. As we start walking back along the highway, Chris mentions something about avoiding cops. I ask him why; they might be better prepared to help us. As it turns out, my hosts’ road trip has actually been a jaunt to Toronto to bring 15 pounds of weed to Winnipeg. Fair enough, I think. In any case, we manage to catch a pickup with no gas to offer but willing to drop us off at the inn.

Chris tells me to stand guard while he tries to find a car he can siphon. I now realize that I have no idea what this entails, and that the whole idea is a combination of my 1:30AM stupidity and Chris’s general shortsightedness. Luckily, I don’t have to do anything; I stand as far away as I can—almost passing for “minding my own business and lacking any idea of what that sketchy dude over there is doing”—and Chris liberates a full jerrycan of gas from the back of the owner’s pickup and runs off toward the road and out of the light.

We try to thumb a ride back to our van to no avail. We end up waking up an elderly man around 2AM who lives a couple hundred meters down the road from the inn. We plead with him to drive us and after some sighs on his part we’re racing down the Transcanada in the back of his pickup.

We arrive at the van and pour the gas into the tank. Chris gives the empty jerrycan to the kind elderly man as a token of appreciation. As we drive off, he recounts the story to the others, gleefully finishing with: “So we stole a jerrycan of gas from the fuckin’ manager who said he didn’t have any, and then we woke up his neighbor to drive us back to our car.” It’s definitely the douchiest enterprise I’ve been part of, but it’s quite effective. To me, he adds, “Now at least you got a story to tell your buddies back home.”

I fall asleep on my pack, expecting to wake up outside Winnipeg and be done with this episode of my thumbing adventure. Instead, I wake up just after 5AM in Dryden (still in Ontario) to screams of “Right! Go! Go! Go! Drive! Drive! Drive!” Larisse is behind the wheel now. I sit there clueless for a moment until Chris explains that he left the nozzle hanging so the pump thinks we’re not done pumping yet, and then I realize that they’ve been stealing gas the whole way, which is why they didn’t take gas in Thunder Bay—a relatively large city, more police, tougher to steal gas—and why we therefore ran out of gas in the middle of the night in the first place. At the city outskirts, there’s a group of police cars and an officer standing on the shoulder, motioning. Larisse freaks out, terrified and screaming for Chris to switch places with her, before he points out that he’s just motioning to slow down. As it turns out, there was a moose accident here in the night.

At this point, Winnipeg can’t come soon enough, and I’m really hoping the rest of the drive there will be fairly normal and continuous. I almost ask to be dropped off early in Kenora, but end up going with them all the way to Winnipeg as planned, half-expecting shit to hit the fan in any number of ways.

“Hey, Ronnie’s outta jail now, ain’t he?” suggests John. I hear accounts of armed robberies, selling stolen electronics, and “Man, I was the last one off major crimes that time except Jared. That was some bullshit!” and “Oh yeah, I remember that time you went to prison. You called me on the phone, bawlin’ away… I was like, ‘baby, it’s only 135 days!’? Come on, Winnipeg. You can’t come soon enough.

And finally, it comes. I bid my hosts farewell at a Petrocanada station on the east end of Winnipeg. They tell me they’re going out to BC in about 3 days, and I smile as if filing under “Good To Know.” And so I go brush my teeth and wash my armpits in the public restroom, fill up on water, and sit on the curb behind the truck stop, basking in the prairie sunshine and eating my late breakfast of dry cereal.

But breakfast ends, and it’s back to the shoulder. Back to the thumb and the sign and the smile.

All photos by author

You’ve got one day in Québec City. I recommend eating everything in sight. Breakfast

START WITH SUGAR. Order a cafe au lait at Chez Temporel, along with a chocolatine that seems to contain more butter than dough. Sit next to a man reading a newspaper and (inexplicably) eating a salad. Attempt to read the French headlines. Give up and surreptitiously examine his salad for evidence of butter instead.

Or go for a big breakfast at Cochon Dingue. Hem and haw over the duck confit eggs Benedict and the scrambled eggs with Migneron cheese and béchamel sauce. Ask the waiter what his favorite breakfast dish is, and consider asking him to be your tour guide for the day when he replies, “beer.”

Walk off your breakfast. Stop to listen to a street harpist and ward off sitcom-like flashbacks. Pass La Fudgerie Boutique and eye the chocolate sausages hanging in the window. Assess the tightness of your jeans, note the time of day, and talk yourself out of going in.

Take the Funicular up to the Chateau Frontenac and open your camera bag. Contribute to the fact that this building is the most photographed hotel in the world. Stare at the dozens of white Christmas trees and countless twinkly lights in the lobby and shake your head because Thanksgiving is still three weeks away. Then remember you are in Canada, where Thanksgiving was actually last month. Wonder why Thanksgiving seems to be your date marker when it comes to acceptable Christmas decorating protocol.

Wander out of the hotel and down the Rue du Tresor, a small alley cluttered with artwork. A tiny landscape painting with chocolatey brown hues catches your eye. Realize you were kidding yourself and head back down to La Fudgerie for way too many samples and a cup of the best cayenne-spiked hot chocolate you’ve ever had.

Take the stairs this time.

Lunch

Walk and walk and walk because you’re full of jittery sugar energy. Walk past the Parliament Building and down the entire length of the Grande Allée, where colonial-style buildings house dozens of modern clubs, restaurants, and bars. Head to Faubourg Saint-Jean District and pass another chocolate shop, this one with a chocolate dress and matching shirt in the window. Start to hate your belt.

Hesitate under the arch of the Église Saint-Jean-Baptiste because Catholic churches have made you uncomfortable since elementary school. Walk in anyway and don’t burst into flames. Admire the 36 stained glass windows and the massive altar, but keep your camera in its bag because it feels like someone’s watching. Sit down when the organist comes in to practice Bach. Think about how the pipe organ is just a bitch of an instrument to play what with the bass pedals and all, and berate yourself for not having kept up with piano.

Decide it’s time for more food.

First, beer.

Spend an hour browsing in the Dépanneur La Duchesse d’Aiguillon, a big name for a tiny convenience store that was built to be a stable in the late 19th century. Or maybe it’s not so tiny, seeing as it houses over 400 varieties of beer. Leave with a six-pack of a locally brewed organic blonde called La Barberie.

Stumble into J.A. Moisan and gaze in awe at the cheeses and pates with names you can’t pronounce. Remove your belt and put it in your camera bag. Eat samples. Leave with a wedge of sharp bleu that you can taste in the bridge of your nose and a firmer cheese which, according to the knowledgeable guy behind the counter, came from cows raised just outside the city that feed on salty grass.

Realize you are in dire need of bread. Buy something long and crusty and soft in the middle from the nearest bakery (there are several). Sit on one of the benches by the church, or sit under a tree, or lean against the wall of the bakery if you really can’t wait and stuff your face with bread and cheese. Don’t forget the beer.

Dinner

Head to Le Drague, a gay dance cabaret. Watch a drag show from the second level.

Or, watch a punk band at Temps Partiel.

Or, watch some jazz at L’Emprise.

Or, go salsa dancing at Maurice.

My recommendation is Le Cercle — part art gallery, part restaurant, part nightclub. Visit the gallery downstairs first while the band sets up overhead. Head back up and read everything on the menu that’s projected onto the wall, but when you order, ask for the chef’s choice. Eat tapas-style plates of rich blood sausage, chilled salmon crepes, and chicken livers with artichoke hearts. Watch the electronica / rock / ska / jazz fusion / rap / whatever band that’s on the musical menu for the night, because it’s always different.

Order wine (also chef’s choice). Maybe some popsicles with chocolate sauce. Throw your belt in the trash.

Getting around

Public buses run frequently from the city to Ste-Foy (the university area) and some suburban areas. Purchase tickets from the driver, transfer for free so long as you get a transfer slip from the first bus. One-day passes are also available.

The Funicular is a quick way to get from Lower Town to Upper Town.

Taxis are readily available near any hotel and/or areas with restaurants and bars. Call Taxi Québec (418-525-8123) or Taxi Coop Québec (418-525-5191) to order. Add 15% gratuity when you pay.

Québec City is motorcycle-friendly, but not so much in winter.

[Editor's note: Michelle's trip was sponsored by the Québec Ministry of Tourism and Québec City Tourism. All opinions are her own.]

This is me during our first session of the week. It is easy to get washed into the cliffs at this spot, the base maybe 100 feet away. This is one of the most spectacular arenas in the world to ride waves.

No rest for the wicked when chasing Irish swell.

IRELAND IS ONE of those places that always draws me back. This past February did not stray from this pattern; it ended up being one of the wackiest runs of waves I’ve ever witnessed, and we did our best to surf as many of them we thought doable all over the country, avoiding one day that had the biggest waves I’ve ever seen in my life.

I linked up with my good friends Mickey Smith (check out his short film Dark Side of the Lens), Fergal Smith (no relation), and Tom Lowe for a stretch that has been deemed February week, because for the duration of time these guys have been charging big surf there, this week has always been a cracker. Mick works with cameras and has documented the Irish ocean in a truly unique way, capturing incredible events in some of the most radical seas on Earth. Fergal and Tom are his counterparts that have been charging the heavy, heavy reefs like animals and doing so at a skill level that is in the top caliber. They are the real deal, accustomed to the cold and harshness of it, and loving the solidarity they have at these crazy spots.

I got to Mick’s home as this run was starting. Had one day to acclimate, get equipment dialed, and then it was on. Day two, we were surfing down in front of the daunting, majestic Cliffs of Moher, which loom 800 vertical feet overhead as you bob around below feeling really small. It’s an amphitheater unlike any I’ve surfed—the way the sound of crashing waves reverberates, the cacophony of bird sounds, the actual proximity to them you are riding waves—it’s sensation overload the whole time until the suit is off. Twenty-foot slabbing lefts were on offer this day with the wind and swell as it was, and we all scored. It was a complete session of crazy rides and wipeouts. Scoring a day like that made the trip feel complete, but that was only the beginning…

We migrated north the next day for a two-day swell. The first day we surfed a slabbing left reef, which became the early iconic slab wave of Ireland after Joel Fitzgerald surfed it in Andrew Kidman’s film Litmus, and we got it as good as it gets. Ten- to 20-foot roping tubes. Tom and Ferg were going wave for wave on the heaviest things coming in, putting on a historic tube session. Next day we surfed Mullaghmore—a 30- to 40-foot boil ridden, cold-water version of Tahiti. We got out at daybreak, and the first set I saw fold over on the reef seemed like a joke it was so heavy. We had one ski between us, and I watched the guys go first. Tom is a bit of a nut, and he was ready to ride first and subsequently got whipped into the biggest things coming in and making ’em! Our goal was to each bag some nuggets, just each get a mental one and we did. I had a couple very memorable waves and we all went wipeout-free.

Following the winds and waves around the country is the way it works during these runs. Because things change so quickly, If you drag ass, you’ll miss the limited windows of time that all the conditions are right. Exhausted from being constantly in motion, we went back west after those two days for one of the biggest swells I’d ever seen was coming in.

The morning of the swell, Fergal woke up really sick. He couldn’t get out of bed. It was a meant to be thing, I think, because we would have surfed if he hadn’t become ill, and it was the most dangerous ocean I’d ever seen. We would have attempted to tow into 60- to 80-foot monsters. The buoys were 38 feet at 17 seconds, and there were outer reefs throwing the wackiest slabbed-out tubes on the biggest waves I’ve ever seen. I’d say 80 feet is a conservative estimate. Tom said he would have driven me, but the feeling was not there. We had no safety net, so it would have been make or break to the fullest. Instead, we went around to the pub that afternoon for decompression pints, which were some of the best pints ever. I’m sure they would have been better if we had surfed, but there’ll be another time for that pint.

There was one more amazing session back at the Cliffs again, but this time at Aileen’s, the big tubing right. Thick fog was blanketing the land at dawn when we awoke, and it seemed like surfing was a write-off, but the guys said sometimes it just pours off the cliffs and the ocean is clear. They were spot on. As fog poured off the cliffs in a slow cascade, 20-foot tubes spun beneath. Only in Ireland! We went down a treacherous goat path, weaving back and forth into the guts of Moher.

[Editor's note: For more on Rusty's time in Ireland, check out the current issue of The Surfers Journal.]

waves out the window This old cottage straddling the hillside was slowly decomposing. What a cool place to call home! massive left This is from the massive day we didn't surf. There were all sorts of mysto waves breaking, just like this one. the big right This is another seldom-seen wave breaking on the massive day. Had we know about this wave earlier in the day, I would have seriously considered surfing, but we got there just before the storm moved in with unruly winds and rain. road to surf Driving narrow roads at dawn with surf in mind are synonymous with Ireland. That's Fergal leading the way. morning fog Sunrise somewhere in the country outside Sligo. We had a handful of frozen, foggy mornings?unpleasant stuff but part of the landscape. harbor launch Some places have boat ramps, others require you just pull up on the harbor beach at low tide. Fergal with his machines that make the heavy-water surfing possible. ire graves ?I like being places with a sense of antiquity, they balance out my Southern California-centric take on the world. Mickey's car Mickey Smith is a legend, a gifted lensman who has been blowing minds with his imagery and motion film from Ireland. It's always a pleasure to link up with him. Rusty-Laurens This is me during our first session of the week. It is easy to get washed into the cliffs at this spot, the base maybe 100 feet away. This is one of the most spectacular arenas in the world to ride waves. /* jQuery(".matador-gallery").hide(); jQuery(".matador-gallery div").hide(); /* jQuery(".matador-gallery div:first").show(); */ /* jQuery(".matador-gallery div:first").addClass("gallery-selected");*/ /*matador_build_gallery_nav();*/ function matador_build_gallery() { var html = ''+ ''+ ''+ '
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Renowned Irish surf photographer Mickey Smith’s short film is nothing short of mind blowing and speaks strongly to anyone who has a passion for the world around them and capturing that world in photographs.

WHEN MICKEY SMITH SAYS in the opening moments of his powerful short film Dark Side of the Lens: “I see the world in angles, lines of perspective, a slight turn of the head… the blink of an eye. Subtle glimpses of magic other folks might pass by.” It is perhaps the simplest and most elegant description I’ve ever heard of what it is to be a photographer. Mickey is a surf photographer and the film pays homage to all those faceless photographers who toil behind the lens in harsh conditions throughout the worlds oceans for little or no money but when claims “If I only scrape a living, at least it will be a living worth scraping” it transcends surf photography and speaks to anyone who has carried a camera into difficult or dangerous conditions with the goal of capturing those fleeting moments of magic and perfection.

Dark Side of the Lens by Mickey Smith

She's Canadian, and she's pissed off. Photo: Lara604

No. I don’t know John from Toronto. (function() { var s = document.createElement('SCRIPT'), s1 = document.getElementsByTagName('SCRIPT')[0]; s.type = 'text/javascript'; s.async = true; s.src = 'http://widgets.digg.com/buttons.js'; s1.parentNode.insertBefore(s, s1); })();

WE WERE UNDER attack. Us Canadians that is. Someone on the team (not to mention any names, Joshua Johnson from Seattle) had sullied the good name of poutine — a French Canadian institution consisting of fries, cheese curds, and gravy — in a work group email. He referred to it as a “sacrilegious slop of slathering savages” and said that it is “the saddest thing ever to befall french fries.” It was on. Oh yes, it was on.

“I do believe you just made a new enemy” was rebuffed with “Bring it, I don’t fear your ungodly chimera of cheese curds and gravy…I know it gets cold and lonely up there, but there is no excuse for poutine!” Tensions mounted in the email thread. I thought to myself, wow, so that’s how to piss off a Canadian. Of course, there are many other ways too (which this Molson Canadian commercial alludes to). But wait, Canadians don’t get pissed off, do they? Grrr…

The case of mistaken identity

When I lived in Melbourne my job was to fix people’s computer problems over the phone. I was constantly mistaken for an American. “Oh, where in America are you from?” Sometimes I’d respond, “the Canadian part.” Sad thing is, I’m not sure if they picked up on my sarcasm. You wonder why some Canadian travelers sew a flag on their packs?

Say it again! What is annoying is when people ask us to repeat words because they think it’s “funny” or “cute.”

I’ve always maintained that Canadians do not, despite the popular perception, pronounce it “a-boot.” Sorry, we just don’t. I am willing to concede, however, that there is a distinctly Canadian way of saying this word. I had to come to terms with that when I realized that many people were picking me out as Canadian because of the way I say “about.” So, OK, you got us there. But what is annoying is when people ask us to repeat words because they think it’s “funny” or “cute.” My roommate would always get, “tell us again what sport you play?” When she’d reply “hockey” (instead of “hackey” I presume) they would laugh.

Canada is not the 51st state

So stop joking about it.

My sister’s husband’s best friend knows John from Toronto

“Do you know him?” Every Canadian you talk to can tell you a similar story. Yes, for such a large country (it is, after all, the second largest in the world) we have a relatively small population: our population density is 3.8 per square kilometer (and no, I’m not going to convert that to miles for you, sorry); compare this to India, which is 368 per square kilometer. So, comparatively speaking, maybe there is a much better chance that I will know John from Toronto. But still, it’s a ridiculous question, and if you’ve ever asked a Canadian that, you should be ashamed of yourself.

You say “eh” a lot

Actually, that’s totally true.

He/she is Canadian dammit! Not American

Canadian. Photo: Richard "Tenspeed" Heaven

Having such a small population (approx. 33 million) also means having a smaller talent pool than many countries. So when someone mistakenly (or purposely?) claims a famous Canadian, we can get rather defensive about it. Jim Carey, Michael J. Fox, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell, Mike Myers, William Shatner, Neil Young. All Canadians.

Sidenote: claim Nickelback, Celine Dion, and Justin Bieber all you want.

It’s so cold there

No doubt about it, parts of Canada are damn cold. Like Nunavit and the Yukon. And Saskatchewan. But the vast majority of Canadians, around 75%, live within 160 kms of the US border. Like my friend on Facebook said, it’s “as if the border is a fridge door.” The average January low for Toronto is -7 Celsius. The average January low for Chicago is -8.8 Celsius. I wonder how many Chicagoans are living in igloos?

Is that near the “French part”?

I also received this question a lot when I was in Australia. After telling someone I was from Vancouver, they’d ask this question, like it was the only thing they knew about Canada, that there’s a “French part.” Bless your kind heart for knowing that much at least but, no, Vancouver is nowhere near the French part.

Capital mistake Ottawa is the capital of Canada.

Staff writer, Anne Merritt, gets annoyed when her hometown of Ottawa isn’t getting the props it deserves as Canada’s capital. Even when she assures people that yes, Ottawa is the capital, she still gets, “Really? I’m pretty sure it’s Toronto/Vancouver/Montreal.” Anne’s not mistaken, folks. Ottawa is the capital of Canada.

Yeah, we get it. We get the beaver pun. Very funny.

Anne is also grated when drunk men start tossing out jokes about our national animal, the beaver. Crass jokes about it are one thing, but bad crass jokes are a whole different ball game.

So…(giggle)…do you like…beavers?

and

My buddy Kyle went to Canada once…he said the beavers were amazing (chuckle chuckle)

If you’re going to harass Canadian women with beaver jokes, do yourself a favour and at least be clever.

It’s Ca-na-da. Not Canadia.

Don’t laugh, I’ve heard this. More than once.

Photo: KayOne73

Going out alone in LA can reinforce some childhood life lessons.

I SPENT A YEAR going out in LA alone. It can be a daunting task to set out on a solo evening. But if you try it, you’ll realize you should not have waited so long to watch Jon Brion play at Largo or to have a bartender introduce you to the best bacon-wrapped dates in the city at AOC. And it can help you remember some life lessons. Your mama would be proud.

Life Lesson: Try, Try Again (To Get Into a Bar) or When One Door Closes, Another Opens

It’s no joy to have a bouncer deny you entrance to a bar. You can try to convince him you will only take up a teeny tiny spot, or you can say your friend is already inside. Results are minimal, but it’s worth a shot with specific details and a dashing smile. Or you can exclaim that you just sold a script to HBO and are beyond important. I’ve never tried that one, but it sounds like it could work with the right amount of confidence. No matter the strategy though, if the bar’s full, you’re not getting in.

So, at the prime time of 10pm, when I approached Red O on Melrose, the Rick Bayless creation that is stalked by paparazzi every night, I knew I might be turned away no matter how much I batted my eyelashes. I was right.

So I went over to The Improv across the street, a staple stand-up comedy joint that I had been trying to convince friends to go to for years to no avail. I shouldn’t have waited for them.

Walking back to Red O an hour and a half later, the crowds had cleared, and I was in. I sipped a cherry flavored Caipirinha with some new friends at the bar and ended up walking with them to Village Idiot down the street for a nightcap.

Life Lesson: Never Say Never (To Alcohol)

Dancers at La Descarga. Photo: djjewelz.

I’m not an “on the rocks” gal. So at La Descarga on Western, accessed by walking through a closet in a speak-easy style entrance and into the back rum room, I knew I would only want a mixed drink, nothing straight up.

As I checked out the menu, a patron next to me told me I had to try a rum straight up — that they carry the rarest and the finest here.

Realizing the only time I actually had rum in its pure form was rapidly ingested shots of Captain Morgan in college, I decided I should put aside my ban of hard liquor and really give a sipping glass a try.

The bartender said we would have no trouble finding one rum on their extensive menu that I would enjoy. He started by asking me what kind of beer I like. “I’ve been digging Sam Adams Oktoberfest lately.”

With just that, he decided to serve me a spiced gold rum with a subtle taste of cinnamon. The first swallow was pleasantly smooth, and I looked at him in shock. I liked it! I took my drink into the main room and as I watched a scantily clad woman dancing to the live Cuban band in their legendary hourly show, I sipped my rum in disbelief of my newly acquired taste.

Life Lesson: Make New Friends, But Keep the Old (By Running Into Them at Bars)

I walked into the Dresden on the strip of Vermont Ave in Los Feliz and saw my friend Adam, with whom I had tried to schedule time with for over three years, I was thrilled. Just by getting out and not worrying about making plans, I was able to share an Amstel Light with one of my most hard to pin down acquaintances.

He was off to another event before he took the last sip, but I wasn’t going to waste the rest of my night. I sat at the bar listening to the quirky jazz vocals of Marty and Elayne, the fixtures of the landmark bar and restaurant and chatting with new friends.

Life Lesson: Face Your Fears (And Your Exes)

I suffered through a breakup and shunned everything within a 5 mile radius of Sunset Junction for fear of running into or facing reminders of my ex. But in my year-long journey to bars alone, I knew I would not be doing Los Angeles justice if I avoided Silver Lake. In fact, I realized that when I had spent time in the hip east-side neighborhood during the relationship, I had barely explored the nightlife.

So I mustered up my big girl courage, drove toward the reservoir and landed at the Red Lion Tavern, a German pub complete with a life-sized Nutcracker, bartenders in kitschy aprons, imported brews, and an outdoor beer garden.

That night I learned that Dunkel means dark, dabbled on the keys with the eccentric piano man, and befriended some musicians who had just played at The Echo. As I left, stepping out onto the streets that I was once scared to come near, I knew that I had moved on.