T H I S+W E E K

Lost in the Sahara
By Jeffrey Tayler
A simple overnight trip becomes a battle for survival

Dunescapes
By Pamela Roberson
A desert portfolio

Letter from Amsterdam
By Mary Elizabeth Williams
Toke of the Town

D E P A R T M E N T S

The Surreal Gourmet
By Bob Blumer
Running on full

Mondo Weirdo
Lions and rhinos and loos -- oh my!

> Readers' Tips and Tales
Hitchhiking adventures

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LA S T+W E E K

Tuesday, Sept. 9, 1997

Bali low
By Cintra Wilson
Loveless in paradise

A full list of all
Wanderlust articles

April Romo de Vivar | I got off the road and stopped at....
07:54pm Sep 9, 1997 PST (#15 of 18)

i take secondary roads all over New Mexico and then, when my dog barks, I stop, he jumps out and I follow him. We find places that POP Panorama in our faces around some turn and just sit and stare. Or, we find a little foot wide bit of water and follow it downhill or uphill to hidden places.

I let the dog pick, because he's less influenced by signposts and real stopping places, where we might find others. He has helped me to find sitting places that I could hardly leave after hours of sitting. Rock outcroppings on rainy days, with Indian writing inside. Huge fallen trees that test our balance to trunk walk. Just watching his joy at being out of a vehicle reminds me to not sit and drive so far as when I'm alone. My most adventurous companion.

Selene Ilios | The Ugly American -- Why Does the World Love to Hate U.S. Tourists?
03:01pm Sep 12, 1997 PST (#50 of 50)

i sailed out of Bari Italy for Greece in mid February; ended up, after a few weeks on one of the lesser know northern Aegean islands. In the local ex-pat community there were a couple Germans, more than a couple Brits, a gay Dutch guy and a French girl. And me, the American. Months passed. Spring came. Tourists began to trickle in. Finally July came (Hell Season) and the tourists were everywhere in large numbers. But no Americans. Until one day I was heading up to the quay and I heard them. "Laaarrrrry, I don't wanna eat nooow. Let's see wats in da stores." The first American accent I'd heard in nearly seven months. It was blatantly noticeable; it made the hair on my neck prickle up. It was loud and nasal and flat sounding. And the woman was complaining. It frankly embarrassed me. Isn't that terrible? They were a horror. I saw them that night, bitching over the food, the service, the chairs, the wine, the bugs, the light. They had gotten louder. I wanted to smack them. Americans, someone once wrote, travel, not for discovery or curiosity, but to affirm that everything in the States is better than any place else. They compare constantly. Americans never learned to leave their identity and preconceptions at their border. That's why they annoy other people. They are also terribly ignorant of other cultures and history; ignorance invites insensitivity. In our defence, I have witnessed atrocious behaviour on the part of Germans, French, and, surprisingly, Swedes. The English can be unbearable too. But none of their accents are as nerve-wracking as ours.

Readers' Tips and Tales Issue No. 23 | 22 | 21 | 20 | 19 | 18

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