Here are the good, the bad and the ugly of the most interesting airports we visited around the world.

The Good

Suvarnabhumi Airport – Bangkok, Thailand

Bangkok's airport is a temple of contemporary architecture

Like Bangkok, the airport caters to an eclectic mix of people. Standing next to the airport’s Islamic prayer room were Thai ladyboys, and down the hallway in the airport’s slick food court were tubby, gruff Aussies with tiny, Thai women on their arms. It’s hard to decide which is the bigger spectacle – the airport’s clean, cool architectural modernity or the constantly moving zoo of humans it it, where people-watching is elevated to sport. Who knew that flights to Thailand and the country’s main airport were tourist destinations themselves?

Changi International Airport – Singapore

Singapore's airport tops our list of best places to lay over

For something more low-tech, those on long layovers can actually get spa treatments or take a shower at the facilities in the airport. What really impressed us, though, were the two separate 24-hour napping areas, the six open-air garden areas and the array of shops that read like a who’s who of luxury retailers: Hermes, Prada, Gucci and Bulgari.

Because of our timing – we arrived from Sydney late at night and had an early-morning flight to Mumbai – we decided not to take advantage of the special pass offered to tourists, like us, on extended layovers to tour central Singapore for a few hours. All in all, Changi, for our money…er,time, is our favorite place to lay over.

The Odd

Bhadrapur Airport – Southeast of Nowhere, Nepal

No irony intended with the VIP sign at Nepal's Bhadrapur Airport

Third world airports aren't good for nervous flyers

Once on the plane, the pilot eyes you by height and weight and shuffles the passengers around to keep the plane’s “equilibrium,” always fun to hear any time you’re in a moving object…flying in the sky…through the Himalayas. Needless to say, we made it safely with some spectacular mountain views Nepal is famous for. But this is one memorable travel experience I’m OK with looking back on and not eager to re-live.

Kilimanjaro International Airport – Moshi/Arusha, Tanzania

Kilimanjaro International Airport (JRO) is dubbed "the gateway to Africa's wildlife"

JRO, as its known in airport code, is situated between Arusha, where most visitors embark on wildlife adventures in the nearby Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater or across the border to Kenya’s game parks, and Moshi, where trekkers attempt to summit Africa’s highest mountain for which the airport is eponymously named, Mt. Kilimanjaro.

We first picked up Laura’s dad from here when he met us for some African adventure. He couldn’t believe that the 747 he was on was going to land in what he thought was a field. I got a taste of what he was talking about when I flew to Nairobi from JRO. Because I didn’t receive a wake-up call at my hotel, I was very worried security was not going to let me through to my gate when I arrived 40 minutes before my flight was set to depart, well under the 2 hours suggested for international flights.

What a laugh. Airports like these are my favorite – small, easily manageable and which represent the destination itself. Like Tanzanians, the airport was warm, welcoming and laid back. The security guard was one of about 15 people total in the airport and didn’t fuss about my late arrival. He calmly scanned my bag in seconds, leaving me plenty of time to enjoy the fruits of this quaint, aeronautical operation.

On a clear day after a storm, it's possible to get a view of snow-capped Mt. Kilimanjaro

The Ugly

Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport – Mumbai, India

Mumbai's airport doesn't do much to contradict negative stereotypes

The place is a dump, to put it bluntly. A disorganized, bureaucratically corrupt dump. Laura and I walked out of baggage claim to find filthy, squat toilets in one of the world’s busiest airports. An airport official charged me 300 rupees to hire a taxi, which I realized shortly after was not an official price but an arbitrary one. The terminal hallway was dusty, old and prison-like. We were, at 6 a.m. local time, quickly shocked into “we are in India now” mode.

In all honesty, I didn’t really expect anything different from Mumbai’s airport. India is still a very poor nation, after all. It’s just that through traveling so many of my expectations had been subverted by the reality of a place. Yet, here I finally was in India, and the stereotypes generated through email chain pictorials with subject titles like “Is your country this crazy?” were proving truer than the impressions painted by Western media of a burgeoning economy on the cusp, along with China, of becoming the world’s next great superpower.

To be fair, in doing some research, I learned that over a billion dollars has been spent already to modernize Mumbai’s international airport, with pictures to prove it. It’s likely then that we arrived to an old gate in an old terminal. Still, double digit annual GDP growth India might have, but it has some serious PR problems on its hands if this is what half of the country’s main airport looks like.

Café Tortoni

Argentina's most famous cafe - Cafe Tortoni

Café Tortoni’s service is gruff, but always impeccable. You won’t mind that your waiter is not trying to chat you up after ordering the piping-hot churros and chocolate. Waiters expertly serve rich hot chocolate from still richer-looking copper kettles and matching cups. You will need the accompanying milk to relax the thick, lava-like chocolate. After dipping a warm, sugar-coated churro in your hot chocolate, you will feel the guilt that comes with such decadence, but not enough to deter you from dipping again and again.

If you need a jolt after the soporific chocolate indulgence, order a cortado, or espresso, to get your mettle back. Then, take a peak behind the velvet curtains to take in one of the café’s tango shows or head to the back to shoot some pool. Undoubtedly, after such an elegant experience and a look around at the walls of Café Tortoni, you will leave with a better history of the city and understanding of its people.

Café Richmond

Amidst the frenetic chaos of Florida Street, Cafe Richmond is a bastion of cool and calm

The décor is classic 1920’s with old chandeliers casting a warm glow over the long, meandering room. There are places still where a heavy haze of smoke just seems right. Café Richmond is one of them. Although smoking was banned in indoor bars and cafés a few years ago here in Buenos Aires, there are a few loopholes to get around the law. For this and to appease many of its clientele that have been frequenting the café for years, there is a smoking solarium toward the back. The bathrooms of the café are equally impressive in their décor and are worth a gander (seriously) when you patronize the place. Hang out at The Richmond long enough and you might begin to channel the writing voices of two of its leading habitués – Graham Greene and Jorge Luis Borges.

Cafe Richmond on Calle Florida is where Mad Men congregate

Café La Biela

La Biela is where the tres chic Portenos come for their cafe con leche

Patrons of La Biela have the fortune of enjoying their café con leche alfresco. Outside, one can enjoy a favorite Porteno pastime, people-watching. Indulge your curiosities and pass judgment on (or pretend to be totally indifferent to) the many tourists taking in impromptu tango shows, snapping photos of Recoleta Cemetery or admiring the bright white Nuestra Senora de Pilar Catholic church. In cooler months, this is a great place to warm yourself in the afternoon sun; during summer, cool off in the shade if you can snag a table underneath the great limbs of the famed ombu trees with their Wizard of Oz-like appearance.

Patio area at La Biela shaded by the long-limbed ombu tree

Las Violetas

The stained glass windows of Almagro's Las Violetas is more coffee cathedral than cafe

Enter through the gold-plated revolving door on Avenida Rivadavia and you will think you’ve entered a café built by Willy Wonka – the 1920’s version. The first thing you’ll notice are the magnificent glass cases filled with every type of sweet pastry your heart could desire: giant alfajores – mini shortbread cakes filled with dulce de leche and coated with sugar – and their baby offspring, fruit cakes, medialunas, cherry danishes, chocolate pastries, cakes and éclairs.

Like many other cafes of its time that sadly no longer exist, Las Violetas is enormous, having enough space to seat 200 guests at one time. Ceilings flaunting gold chandeliers rise 30 feet above finely-crafted Italian marble floors. The café was made more European during the 1920′s by the addition of French stained glass windows, giving it a bright, airy and open feeling. Female or not, one must head upstairs where the ladies’ restroom is located to take a gander at the café in all of its glory.

In a nod to Arthur Guinness, Las Violetas serves its coffee black as oil and thick as mud with a white, frothy, bubbling top. If tea is more your cup, then look no further than the Maria Cala tea service – an over-the-top spread of scones, finger sandwiches, cakes and pastries, meant for three, but large enough for six!

Bar and cafe at Alvear Palace Hotel in Recoleta

Disneyland or Xi'an, China? I can't really tell...

“I think if we were to visit the country China at Disneyworld’s Epcot Center, it would be eerily similar to the China we’re experiencing here,” remarked Laura in the final days of our visit. I could not agree more. It is no wonder that China limits visitors’ stays to 30 days. It seems that each day longer we stayed in China, we began to see past the pretty facades of hastily-erected new structures and started to notice the fissures. Even without China’s artificially advantageous exchange rate, everything seemed and felt cheap, and not in a good way.

Our introduction to China came in the form of Tibet’s euphemistically named “Friendship Highway” and the newly-completed and very impressive Lhasa-to-Beijing railroad. After discovering what the Chinese government had done to the ancient and historical Buddhist religious center of Tibet, we were not too surprised to see greater(?) development when we arrived to Xi’an, the midway point on our transcontinental trip. Xi’an is most widely known for the famous Terracotta Warriors, and dictated, in large part, our decision to visit this classic, walled city.

The Dallas Cowboys' "Jerryworld" can't compare to China's Terracotta Superdome

This theme of making a strong impression was evident all around the city of Xi’an. The city walls, ancient even by European standards, are an incredible sight to see. Tourists and locals are permitted to ride atop the extremely wide city walls and take in a bird’s-eye view of the city. All around us as we rode, we saw cranes knocking over the old and building the new. Only the new was meant to look old – that’s the weird part. Instead of protecting the original structures or working to refurbish them, the Chinese government seemed to have decided that it would be cheaper, easier and faster to tear down and build from scratch. So, as much as I was absolutely blown away by how advanced China’s infrastructure seemed to be, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it will last.

Riding bikes atop Xian's city walls in its circular park

In many ways, through my verbal and written critiques of the Chinese, I feel hypocritical. The first Americans did painfully little to preserve Native American art, cultures, traditions and worse yet – peoples. As a country we’ve done much to denigrate our environment. But, it’s because of these mistakes why I expect more from a developing country like China. Learn from our mistakes is what I’m asking.

I guess if our visit to China taught us one thing, it would be that one month is way too short to understand its past and too long for us to want to understand its future. The facades may fool you at first; they certainly did me. But stay long enough, and you’ll come away with more questions about China’s future than you had when you arrived.

Fiji is not an island, like I had always imagined. Rather, it is an archipelago of 333 islands that vary greatly. First, in size: many are but a blip on a map, capable of being circumnavigated in minutes. Others, like the mainland, Viti Levu, are quite large and require several days to tour around; Second, in landscape: there are volcanic islands, full of dry, scrub brush and rocky beaches, and others still with dense jungles enveloped by pristine, white beaches and a veil of mint green water; Third, and most notably, in cost: island resorts run the gamut from Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous (with one island resort going for a cool $70,000 USD a night) to all-inclusive backpacker hostels on the high-end of cheap.

Travelers typically choose to concentrate their time on one of the two main chains of islands – the Mamanucas closer to the main island or the Yasawas further north. Prices to both islands proved to be quite expensive due to a monopoly on the ferry trade, with the trip to the Yasawas double in cost. We quickly learned that the bartering methods we had mastered in Brazil and Argentina were a foreign concept to the Fijians. In the end, we decided that Mama knows best. We opted for the closer Mamanuca group of islands and set sail for our soon-to-be home, the $30 dorm bunk beds of Ratu Kini Backpackers Hostel on the island of Mana.

Like almost all of the island resorts, the cost was inclusive of a compulsory meal plan. Typically, I enjoy eating as a way of experiencing a culture, so I was a bit dismayed to learn that my restaurant and meal would be chosen for me. However, after arriving to Ratu Kini on the island of Mana, it became apparent very quickly why this is the case. All of the islands are very small, and still very well preserved. A slew of bars and restaurants on each island would only deteriorate the condition of the islands rapidly and take away from the beauty – which, simply, is why everyone is there in the first place.

Each day was spent doing something that we could hardly imagine doing just last week when we were home in St. Louis for Christmas. Again, because the islands are very small and there are no outside establishments, the resorts and hostels come up with some very creative ways to keep guests entertained. Similar to camp, each night had a theme. The theme of our first night was “Fijian Fun” with a traditional kava ceremony and some very entertaining Fijian songs and dancing. The next night at Ratu Kini consisted of a ridiculous cross-dressing session that was taken way too seriously by way too many people. It quickly became Studio 54 on acid. After happy hour – consisting of “stubbies” or short, fat, apothecary-esque bottles of Fiji Bitter or Gold – we witnessed the head dive instructor dressed as a femme fatale in a dance-off with the other cross-dressed guests. His/her dance included some very lewd and hilarious moves that would make top-end strippers envious. It ended as all great things do, with his 2-year old daughter confused and crying in the audience, asking, “Daddy, what are you doing?!”

Days began with the gulping of Fiji water (yep – they actually do drink Fiji water in Fiji, and it’s not $15 a bottle like in Vegas) to ward off any hangover that could’ve existed from the previous night’s fun and a communal breakfast with the other campers. We went for hikes around the island, through jungle forests, snorkeled and hired a boat with several others for an island-hopping adventure to take advantage of Fiji‘s beautiful waters.

We ventured to Matamanoa where we pretended to be guests at the posh resort and then to Monuriki, where they filmed the movie “Castaway.” Our group was pleasantly surprised to find the “Tom Hanks island” empty, with the exception of two nudist couples. Fortunately, we arrived before the big touring groups and were able to hike to the top to the caves and check out the incredible views of the surrounding islands.

After two days, we were ready to leave behind the camp-style life and took the bait on a great deal the Walu Beach Resort was offering on the island of Malolo. With the Australian reality TV show “The Resort” cancelled, the literally made-for-TV resort is in limbo and was offering free upgrades for guest staying in dorms to beachfront bures. Bures are the traditional thatch-roofed huts with pitched roofs. It was a second honeymoon of sorts, with a deluxe bedroom, two bathrooms and a sitting room, all with ocean views.

We took advantage of the resort’s amenities, including an ocean-front pool, hammocks and sea kayaks to head out to a reef to snorkel. There, we saw yellow sting rays with bright blue polka dots, Nemo, zebra fish, electric blue starfish, a sea snake and, on my last day, a shark! It wasn’t huge – only about a foot and a half long – but it was so incredible to turn around and see a shark right in front of my eyes (not to worry, it wasn’t a Great White and was far less interested in me than I was in him).

Our last day we spent on the main island and had fun drowning stubbies of the local micro-brew, Vono, and hashing over camp-life with other travelers we had met along the way. While initially disappointed in the camp life that was Fiji for us budget travelers, we came to appreciate the forced fun. We were both quick to realize that we had met and formed friendships with more people in the five days we were on the islands than we had in the six weeks we were in Brazil, where we stayed in private rooms in pousadas. Budget travelers, do not fear. Take our advice, there is still a place yet for you in the wonderful isles of Fiji.

Oz Kids Mazabuka Orphanage

Joseph’s story is one of sadness. Like so many of his now-brothers and sisters that we share a home with, Joseph has a troubled past. He came to the home after it was discovered he was being physically abused and purposely underfed at another orphanage. The caretakers there were posting photos of Joseph on the internet and extorting money from well-meaning Europeans and North Americans wishing to help a previously healthy, baby boy. That this occurred is troubling. That his case is one of many, and that the other children here have stories that make Joseph “lucky” is almost too hard to take.

Chipego or "Gift" in the local Tonga dialect

Witchraft. Murder. Betrayal. One or another child here has been affected or orphaned as a result of one of these. But all have been affected by sub-Saharan Africa’s biggest killer – AIDS. If not a mother or father who has contracted the HIV virus, then it’s an aunt, uncle, cousin or friend. Estimates state that in urban areas of Zambia, more than 30% of the population is HIV+. Think about that for a moment. 1 out of every 3 people you see or meet has HIV. So often we are bombarded by stats that it’s easy to become immune to the stories and sadness behind them. Now if you aren’t taken aback by this, here’s another one. The average life span in Zambia is 32 years.

"Catching up" on the front stoop

Changing time for Joseph = fun

This was our chance to give back, even if just a little (this begs the philosophical argument of altruism, I know). We were unsure what to expect. Laura had done the legwork and this opportunity seemed a good match for us. We would have the chance to work with children, something we both enjoy. And we’d be able to work AND live at the home. If we only were going to volunteer three weeks, we wanted an experience where we could contribute as much and as often as we were capable. We learned quickly that with this, there would be no escape or outlet, no boundary between work and what happens after work. We arrived anxious, hopeful and full of questions. Would they open up to us? Would they accept us? Could we possibly make a real impact in their lives in such a short period of time? Would they even want us to try? We’d soon find out.

On October 9, we’re hitting the pavement, running 26.2 for these kids. Hope you’ll consider making a donation to make their world a little bit brighter.

For more details on our efforts, click here.

Laura defined so well in her “Homeward Bound” article our mutual feelings of what this experience has meant to us. We were both acceptably unprepared for our re-entry to American society. We returned during the holiday season, and with it, to all of America’s pomp and splendor: packed shopping malls, over-the-top Christmas decorations and Starbucks’ red and white holiday-themed cups.

My Brother Tim and I in Times Square

Obviously this trip was different in that we never fully immersed ourselves in one culture and language. We were on the move the entire year, like chameleons, constantly changing our colors to fit into our new surroundings. Although we felt at home in certain places, our average country-long stay of three weeks would never be enough time to let our roots grow anywhere.

Hanging with the kids at Mazabuka Orphanage

A very good friend emailed me with two months remaining in my 14 month around the world journey. “Who have you become as a result of your travels?” she asked. The same hard question I’d been asking myself all year long. The problem was I didn’t have the answer. In many ways, I feel supremely sure of who I am, what I want and what I’ve learned. But in many other ways, I am more conflicted than ever before.

I feel I have opened my world but have closed my mind. I am more judgmental, not less; critical of others when I should be more accepting; angrier when faced with perceived ignorance and less filled with a desire to educate; less empathetic to the concerns of those close to me when I should be more. Why? I simply don’t know.

I wish I could finish this by saying something uplifting and grand instead of feeling the way I do. But life and emotions are not always dictated the way we want them to be. And for now, that will have to be OK.

First stop on our Southern African 4×4 safari was the otherworldly and postcard-worthy sand dunes of Sossusvlei. Like many others I had begun to associate the entire country of Namibia with these impossibly beautiful giant dunes and the neighboring “Dead Vlei,” a crazy Dali-like formation of petrified trees creeping their way out of a salt flat in the middle of absolutely nowhere. When I picture Hell, this is what I see.

Here is a photographic run-down of our trip to Namibia’s finest attraction.

Sesriem

The drive to Sesriem (car problems withstanding) was incredible. Nowhere in the world had we driven so many miles without seeing a single person, not another vehicle, nor home, nor even a sign of life. The final stretch into Sesriem Canyon with the sun setting over the mountainous sand dunes was a picture of the reason why we came to Namibia. We arrived to our campsite after dark, which is when we discovered a very important problem with the vehicle: the lights didn’t work. Now, not only is it dangerous to drive at night but it’s extremely dangerous to drive at night with no lights!

We settled in quickly and set up camp. We broke bread (PB&J, really) and grabbed a hot shower to wash away the first day’s troubles. Then it was onto our mobile home and bed on the roof of the Land Rover. Camping out under the stars on our tent atop our car, in the middle of the desert, helped to assuage any misgivings I had about opting to travel independently.

Our second day in Sesriem we headed to the famous Sesriem Canyon, a narrow gorge splitting open the earth and running for a mile. The day was scorching hot and we would need plenty of water. The good news is that when you travel with your home your kitchen is never far away. We hiked through the canyon, taking in the desert views and appreciating the crazy rock formations. More interesting is the birdlife and many insects that can inhabit such a forbidding place.

In the late afternoon we headed to Elim Dune to watch the sunset over the Namibian valley. Watching the sun set over the valley floor atop the massive red dune was a serene sight. All around us were mountains of yellow sand glowing red in the fading light of just another day gone by. This was an image that had captured my curiosity from across the world and had drawn me right here to this very spot.

Sossusvlei

The true gem, however, and reason that so many people from around the world are drawn to this part of Africa is the area of Sossusvlei, 60km away from Sesriem. The massive sand dunes of Sossusvlei are best viewed at sunrise or sunset. We decided against our body clocks to start off our day at dawn the following morning.

We woke up early, packed up our rooftop tent in the dark, and headed to Dune 45, a magnificent-looking but poorly-named dune, you guessed it, 45km from Sesriem on the road to Sossusvlei. Hands down, this was one of the highlights of our year. When we arrived to the dune, the rising sun had split the dune in two: the eastern facing half basked in the morning sunlight and the western half cloaked in shadows, still awaiting its share of the sun.

We started up the dune ridge and were instantly entranced by the desert’s dual personality. On the dark side, the sand was cool and felt like I was putting my foot into a pool of cold water. On the bright side, the sand was scorching, even this early in the morning. This felt like my bare feet were being put into a frying pan. The trek to the top took about 40 minutes but the views were absolutely worth it. Taking in the opposite views from the sunset before from atop another sand dune, Laura and I couldn’t help but appreciate the ying and yang dichotomy that takes place here each day. We sat up there for almost an hour, watching the sun creep its way northward and begin to warm the day before we decided the time was right to slalom our way down the dune and head to Sossusvlei’s other otherworldly landmark – Dead Vlei.

We drove 15km to the Dead Vlei entrance. It was here that we’d first get to put our 4×4 gears to work. It’s a 5km drive through some seriously thick sand to get to Dead Vlei. All the 2×4 vehicles had to park their cars and 4×4 taxi their way there, but not us. Laura was rightly nervous, as I had no previous experience driving a 4×4 nor any vehicle through thick sand, but I was determined. We had rented a Land Rover for a reason I said.

So, I popped the newly-named Sand Lover into 4×4 and put it in second and began to wade the car through the sand. I say wading because that’s exactly what the car does. You give the car some gas and the momentum creates a quasi-wave that carries you through the sand. Several times I felt the vehicle begin to lose momentum and sputter so I had to throw it in first for a jolt and then back into second. This was nerve-racking but the sense of accomplishment a man feels when he reaches his destination is indescribable.

We made it to the entrance of Dead Vlei and began the arduous trek through already searing temps to Hell on Earth. The pictures here will do better than any description. We’ve been to many surreal destinations on this trip, but truly none more so than this place.

The experience of visiting Sossusvlei certainly met our insanely-hyped expectations and, alone, merited our visit to Namibia.

It was then onward and upward to the German town of Swakopmund where we would begin a legendary credit card dispute with our 4×4 rental company and find out the importance of being earnest.

Laura and I debated back and forth about the merits of doing our southern African tour independently and renting our own 4×4 or going with an overland tour operator. Both ideas had their plusses and minuses.

With an overland tour, the obvious plus is that you take planning out of the equation. Tour operators have traversed the continent many times and know where to go, when to go and what to see. The research has been done and you, as the client, can blindly follow along (for better or for worse). Overland tour groups come equipped with knowledgeable guides who can answer many questions and provide wonderful information on wildlife, flora and fauna. Also, an overland tour can significantly cut costs, especially for the lone independent traveler. Finally, and again important for the solo traveler, overland tours present opportunities to meet new friends. Our tour of Tibet, although absolutely terrible, allowed us to meet some great people, many of whom we still keep in touch with long after our tour.

The downside? Well, as someone who has done a few tours, I can say that the experience typically isn’t as enriching. It’s difficult after an entire year of independent travel to follow a schedule that someone else has put together for you. The best part of travel, especially long-term travel, is that you can take the time to see things at your own pace, lingering in the places you enjoy and hitting fast-forward through some parts that aren’t so great. There’s nothing worse than being herded around like a group of cattle when you’re years away from grade school.

This was enough to propel Laura and me to splurge and opt for a self-drive safari through southern Africa. We went back and forth many times, not because the decision was so tough but rather because the cost was so great for two meager backpackers. Our decision rested on the single question – When else will we have the freedom (no kids, no debt, etc.) and time to traverse this large swath of continent? Never. As such, we were going to do it the way we wanted to.

So, the upside of doing this 4×4 safari independently is simple – it’ a full-on experience where you can follow and change your itinerary on a whim and learn as much through osmosis as personal experience (both triumphs and failures).

There are so many downsides to self-drive tours it’s impossible to list them all, but here are a big few.

1. Car problems. I’m the furthest thing from a mechanic and the last place you want to be stuck is the Namibian outback. There’s plenty of it, too, with Namibia being the least densely populated country on the planet.
2. Costs. While a drawback, we did the math and it seems we paid only a small premium, to quote Fleetwood Mac, “go our own way.” In the end, I believe the experience we had far outweighed the cost.
3. No guide. As mentioned, overland tour guides can be very helpful so this was something we missed. However, we bought the very helpful Shell guide to Botswana and had a lot of fun learning about the different animals we were spotting along the way.

The biggest question one can ask them self after deciding between two things is if you were in a similar situation, would you do it again. Yes, we would. Absolutely, we would.

We had a lion’s share of car problems on our safari (yes, pun intended) but these were all part of our experience. I learned as much about 4×4 trucks as I did about wildlife. I am now an off-road driving expert, comfortable driving through feet of sand or water. I became a budding ornithologist and wildlife field guide with the help of several wildlife books we purchased. Also, we were able to experience more of Namibia and Botswana’s cultural aspects than we would have through the pre-packaged, bite-sized and sterile tourist interactions we normally have had on our group tours. Most important, Laura and I were able to skip the tourist traps, avoid big crowds and take our time in the places we enjoyed most. In the end, our southern African experience was exactly that – OUR own experience that can’t be found on the brochure of any tour operator.

I don’t want to die and go to heaven. I want to go to Grindelwald.

Those were the first words I uttered after arriving to Gletschegarden Hotel, spot in the middle of Grindewald, Switzerland. With a view of the rolling green hills and the imposing Jungfrau Mountain seemingly superimposed on a postcard amount of red, pink and white flowers, I thought I was in Heaven.

But if only Heaven didn’t cost as much…Switzerland was never part of our around the world itinerary for this reason. Laura and I had long known that Switzerland is associated with three things: money, time and chocolate (probably in that order, too), so it never even crossed our minds that our meager backpacking dollars could bring us to this wonderfully expensive paradise.

Enter Laura’s parents. Gracious and giving as always, they treated us to a four day holiday in Switzerland that I’ll remember forever. We spent the first two days in the skiing-obsessed Zermatt. While I greatly enjoyed the chic shops, fine dining, incredible trekking, sleek efficiency, and, of course, the magnificent views of the Matterhorn in car-free Zermatt, it still was not perfect enough. Great, green Grindewald had to go and top it.

When one pictures Switzerland, they are picturing Grindewald. With no more than a couple thousand residents, Grindewald is more village than town. We arrived on one of those temperate, sunny Fall days that even Grindewaldians(?) (who are accustomed to perfection) had to call perfect. The air was cool, the sun was shining and the flowers were still in full bloom (although I think the Swiss secretly import their flowers to retain that “full-bloom” look year-round). The afternoon sun moved from the Jungfrau onto the rolling hills and played shadow games over hamlets straight out of Hansel and Gretel.

Besides staring at all this beauty what were to do? Head to one of those neat, corner cafes to laze away the afternoon sipping strong coffee and eating flaky pastries? Or maybe head to an outdoor wine bar to take in the outstanding mountain views? The Swiss have a way of tricking you into doing nothing and yet have you feeling a sense of accomplishment.

Or, if you actually are serious about being active, there a wealth of opportunities to pass the time in Grindewald. I forewent the shopping that the Dowling ladies set out for some serious trail running in preparation for the Cape Town Marathon, now just two weeks away. While the thin mountain air and vertical trails make running an extreme sport in this part of Switzerland, I always was able to stop and catch my breath. I had to. The views were so stunning that I had to take a moment every few minutes to admire the serene, green alpine beauty. Glaciers, rolling green hills, cascading waterfalls, gentle streams – you name it, Grindewald has it all.

The following day I found an even greater appreciation for the splendor of this idyllic mountain village when Laura, her parents and I took one of the shiny red palaces they call cable cars to the top of one of the ski lifts for an afternoon hike down the mountain. The views from above 10,000 feet only improved our already high marks for Grindewald.

These afternoon hikes proved necessary with the delectable culinary options Grindewald had in store for us: hearty Hungarian goulashes, grilled venison with beets in a red wine sauce, veal with a creamy marsala sauce, lamb over couscous with a red pepper mousse and a ridiculously cheesed-out Swiss cheese special.

Heaven Grindewald most certainly was. Even the town cemetery was perfect and a place any visitor would want to frequent. To top off our experience was the 100 year old and downright rustic Gletschegarden Hotel. Even among so many wonderful homes and hotels, the Gletschergarden stood out. The place was full of charm with every crevasse of the home opening up into a new-found nook with well-appointed hand-crafted wooden furniture. The views were nothing less than stunning and the family-only staff as hospitable as they come.

So, if Heaven is anything less than Grindewald, I, for one, will be disappointed. Unless less means cheaper, then it’s OK.

After a few months in Asia we were both really craving a good, fresh salad. And along came Laos. Simple. Natural. Fresh. Laap (or laab), was a nightly ritual for us. Perhaps the most famous Laotian dish, laap is made from chopped or thinly sliced meat or fish that is mixed with lime juice, fish sauce, mint, coriander, spring onion, chili and uncooked rice grains that have been dry fried and crushed. It is usually accompanied by vegetables including eggplant, fresh chilies, mustard leaves and lettuce. It can be eaten with ordinary rice or sticky rice and is usually eaten with fish/meat soup depending on the main ingredient being used.

We enjoyed eating this and all the other Lao food so much we decided to take a cooking course. And I can assure you, it’s as good as it is easy to make.