Step 1: Do You Really Have Lice?

You’re probably still hoping that the answer is no. But if your head is really itchy, and you’ve found a small bug, it’s almost definitely lice. Everyone compares a louse to a sesame seed. As a woman who consumes sesame seeds by the spoonful, I feel this is inaccurate. An adult louse is slightly wider than a sesame seed and almost twice as long.

Step 2: Don’t Panic

You’re fine. Are you in a hospital with dengue fever, malaria, japanese encephalitis, or yellow fever? No. Will this malady cost you hundreds or thousands in medical bills? No. Will bugs be crawling all over your body? No. Will people know you have lice and therefore treat you like a leper? No. Are you going to give lice to your traveling companions? No. Chill out. You can nip this whole thing in the bud starting right now.

Step 3: Don’t Gross Yourself Out

Lice like living on your warm scalp. Otherwise they are like a fish out of water.  You are not a walking corpse. You’re not going to wake up to find yourself covered in bugs. They aren’t going anywhere besides your head (or the person whose head you touch with your own). Unlike many sites will tell you, you do not need to wash everything you own in scalding hot water, vacuum obsessively, or sequester things in plastic bags. Lice don’t live on your clothes, furniture, or sheets. They live on your head. Unless the sheets at your hotel aren’t plain colored, you will be able to see a louse that crawled off your hair and has been hanging out on the bed waiting for your return. Changing your sheets every night just creates more laundry. If you’re really paranoid, change your pillow case. I didn’t wash or change anything and slept in the same hotel room the first three days of my lice discovery and lice war (and then continuously in a new hotel room for five days).

Step 4: Get Ready for a Waiting Game

Basically, you are going to kill all the lice with the ability to move (adults and juveniles). There are lots of ways to do this. Then you are going to wait about eight days during which the eggs/nits will be hatching but not yet mature enough to lay eggs. (Be sure to corroborate this suggestion with your own research.) Throughout the eight days, there are proactive things you should do. After eight days, you are going to kill all the lice with the ability to move again. Assuming you get them all, you’re done! Lice free!

Step 5: Decide How You Want to Kill Your Lice

There are a multitude of methods. People will tell you to use mayonnaise, conditioner, pesticide shampoo, salt, olive oil, etc. Do your research and choose what’s best for you. Many people feel it’s freaky to put carcinogenic (cancer causing) chemicals on their body. When it came to killing lice, my reservations weren’t enough to keep me away from the pesticide shampoo.

Step 6: Kill the Lice

The concept with mayonnaise/ conditioner/oil is that it smothers the lice. Some argue that they die from lack of oxygen if the substance is left on overnight. Others say the slippery stuff “stuns” them for about 20 minutes, giving you time to comb the bugs out. A salt treatment, supposedly available in the U.S., purports to dry out both the bugs and their eggs. With a pesticide shampoo, you apply it to the hair and let it sit for 15 minutes as the nasty Little Insects Crawling Everywhere die slow and painful deaths. Then you rinse it and out come all the dead little bugs. Ick. I was told not to wash my hair again (definitely not with the pesticide, and not even with regular shampoo) for two days. I immediately put conditioner in my hair to aid in combing through with a fine-toothed comb.* As I did, more dead lice came out with each pass.

*Would a sesame seed, which is slightly smaller than an adult louse, fit through the teeth? No? Then the comb is fine-toothed enough. The finer, the better.  Obviously a comb made for the purpose is best, but if it’s the middle of the night like it was for me, whatever you’ve got handy might do the job well enough to get all the mature adults – that’s the real concern.  You’ve got to make sure you’ve rid yourself at least of all the egg-layers, if not all the crawlers.

Step 7: Count the Days

If you go the pesticide route, after waiting two days, you can do the whole conditioner/mayonnaise/olive oil and combing thing. You could repeat every day if you’re paranoid. I only did it every two days. Theoretically, you could eventually get rid of the lice by combing out the immature hatched bugs every two days for a month. In the end, you’d be left with a bunch of practically invisible empty egg shells and no more lice. But having someone to nit-pick is good insurance.

Step 8: (Optional) Find a Nit-Picker

Ideally, you’ll have a friend handy whom you don’t mind asking to “nit-pick” your head at least once, if not every other day. Lice eggs are called nits. They are practically superglued to the hair shaft about a quarter-inch to an inch from the head where it’s nice and warm. In a perfect world, this person, after you kill your lice the first time, will be able to go through and pluck out hundreds of nits. They aren’t easy to spot. If your buddy isn’t experienced, tell them the nits are shinier than hair and will catch and reflect the light more brightly. They are supposed to be concentrated around the ears and neck, but mine were everywhere and loved the crown of my head. Once your nit picker has spotted one, they need to pinch the nit and slide it all the way down and off the hair shaft. It is my understanding nits are not guaranteed to be removed with a comb (so why is it called a nit comb?). Your job is to kill the egg by smashing it between two hard surfaces. The back of your fingernails work great. Or two coins if you’re horrified by the idea and really want to get fiddly.  I read that the eggs can actually live longer off the body (several days) than the adults (12 to 48 hours, depending on the environment) – so SMASH it! If it doesn’t “pop,” it was an empty egg shell. If it does, congrats! One less louse to battle! Don’t have someone to nit-pick? Ask at a hair salon if they’ll do it for you. Don’t be embarrassed. People in developing countries don’t freak out about bugs the way first-worlders do. And they know that lice is not leprosy. No one is going to get lice from nit picking for you.

Step 9: Kill Your Lice! Again!

If you went the pesticide route, it’s time for another application. Decide after you research which day you think it is that lice mature and begin laying eggs. My research said it takes an egg seven days to hatch, and three more to start laying. So on the 8^th day, after even the youngest eggs would have hatched since my original treatment (and hopefully the lice that reached maturity before then got combed out in my conditioner routine), I applied the pesticide again.

Step 10: (Optional) Find A Nit Picker

I didn’t have anyone handy and was relatively confident at this point the the lice were gone. But if I’d had a buddy I would have begged them to check me over just in case.

Step 11: Follow-Up Combing

For the next two weeks, I continued plugging my hair full of conditioner and combing it thoroughly every two days. I never found another louse, but it was great peace of mind.

Step 12: Don’t Get Lice Again!

It’s pretty easy not to get lice. A friend of mine was a principal in an impoverished school-district for over a decade where 30% of the kids had lice all the time. She never got lice. I worked one-on-one with a little girl who had lice for six months. We went to the movies together, sat in a car together, went out to eat together, shared hugs, walked together – and I never got lice. People with hair less than an inch long usually do not get lice because the environment on their scalp isn’t warm enough for the creepy crawlies. Long haired folks are more susceptible to lice as there is a greater surface area for them to grab onto with their superhero little legs. In situations where you can easily pick up lice (overnight bus rides, playing or working with children, etc), tie up your hair. (And while you have lice, as a courtesy to others, you should tie up your hair around them.)

That’s it! Hope yours is a twelve-step miracle! If you’ve got a lice experience or lice advice, please share it in the comments.

For this trip, my intention was to somehow be surprised and amazed by the atmosphere and the architectural flair of Bern. And I wasn´t about to be disappointed.

Since travelling by train is one of the most economical ways of moving within Europe and the Swiss are known for their punctuality, I decided to use this means of transportation.

Approaching the final destination, I glared out of the window to get a first impression. Observed by the setting sun, the train was just about to cross the Aare river which is circling the old town.

After a strengthening fondue served with fine Swiss wine, I went for a walk through the antique town.

Built upon arcades, the edification of the houses go back far into the 12th century. This was the time when the city of Bern had been founded by the dynasty of princes called the “Zähringer”. Back in the day, the place had been chosen for strategic reasons. On the one hand the river gave the city shelter from intruders, but also supplied water for the townspeople. Rapidly, the city grew to the most important place in the Old Swiss Confederacy. Disregarding an occupation by Napoleons troops, the city has never been involved in any military feuds. This is one of the reasons that led the UNESCO to declare the historic center a World Heritage Site in 1983. And you can tell why.

Arches are spread all over the old city of Bern making it one of the longest roofed shopping streets in Europe. Apart from 11 old fountains, emblematizing old (and current?) virtues, tourists can also gaze upon late gothic, baroque and medieval sites. Those include belfries, churches, memorials and the Federal Palace. At the central station, you can obtain Ipods prepared with an audio tour guiding you through the alleys whilst learning about all the historical facts.

For those who prefer rather adventurous things, I’ recommend you to stop by at the Bärengarten (Bear Pit) and say hello to the name patrons of the city. Or just jump into the Aare river to cool off.

But you shouldn’t visit during winter time, bears also adhere to their winter rest and the river might get a bit cold. I had to suffer through this experience myself (Luckily, I’m not talking about the swimming).

Now that I had been confronted with all the ancient buildings and the daily life of the people, I started thinking about how life must have been back in the day. It was just then when I catched a glimpse of a Starbucks tag placed underneath one of the arches behind an old lithic fassade. Pretty amazing how modern and ancient can be connected. This must have been what I missed in the USA…

But of course, a city cannot only be built upon old foundations. In 2005, the “Zentrum Paul Klee” was opened. It exposes almost 10.000 (watercolor) paintings and drawings by the late 19th-century artist Paul Klee. This marked my last stop in the city of Bern.

With all these impressions in mind, I was ready to start my journey back home. Turning my camera on and looking at all the pictures I had taken, I couldn’t help but smile: The city was indeed able to surprise and amaze me at the same time.

Our eyes would soon open to the many Bugs in our neighboring space. Unexpectedly we were about to open our hearts to these creepy crawlers.

Granted, there are many Bugs that a human should rightfully fear; scorpions that crawl into your shoes at night and lay in wait for a nice juicy foot for breakfast in the morning. Jumping spiders with bodies resembling a starfish and suction cups stronger than an octopus, that fly through the air as they jump and adhere themselves from one wall to the next.

There are no sugarplum fairies dancing over your head, but in fact buzzing mosquitos, who are bound to mistake your nightstand glass of water for a jungle pond. As you snooze in ignorant bliss, these winged warriors will settle their growing families into your beverage. Their eventual demise is eminent as you reach to quench your thirst in the middle of the night. We quickly learned the value of a cover on your drink.

This was only the beginning. When dusk turned to darkness, our new home took on a whole new light. We knew not where they came from or how they got in but somehow the Bugs arrived. Like packs of wolves or schools of fish, these critters would ascend upon our abode in small and large numbers; from the tiniest little bugger that you could barely see to the large foreboding multi legged giant winged bandit.

In the beginning we were petrified. We screamed, we yelled, we jumped up on chairs, we swatted at them and our clothes, we picked our dogs up off the floor and swung them over our heads, as we feared the witching hour each evening.

I couldn’t understand why our human neighbors had such a nonchalant and unconcerned reaction to this nightly invasion; until one day our Costa Rican friend Wendy put it in all in perspective. To my wife she simply said “What do you expect Mickey, you live in the jungle.”

It was as if someone had hit us over the head with a giant fly swatter. In that very moment we realized that the Bugs had been here first. Here we were carrying on over their quiet march into what was once their home. Had any human thought twice about bulldozing their nests and hills and hovels.

And so it began, our relationship with these Bugs that we would soon come to Love.

We did not necessarily embrace them with little bug hugs, but we did welcome their nightly visits into our home. Our evening screams were replaced with an appreciation for their generosity of sharing a space that once belonged to them.  We were in bug love and with it came curiosity.

For my wife it was an acceptable detail to our life here in Costa Rica. For me, it was a growing interest in the antics of these little visitors. I anticipated each evening with the excitement of small child on Christmas Eve. What fascinating little friend would come to visit tonight and where had they been during the day. Were they sleeping, or building bug houses out of sticks and leaves, or having butterfly wing themed pot lucks in some shady tree trunk?

I began to refer to my bug posse as the bug of the month club; for like the fruit of the month club you never knew what you were going to get and each month it changed.

My home office is on the second floor. My desk is directly below a picture window that looks out into the trees behind our home where the howler monkeys travel back and forth.

As I sit at my desk in the evenings, catching up on work, I long to open the curtains to enjoy the moonlit view. But something stops me.

In the evenings the lights inside our home attract the Bugs outside our home. As soon as you crack open the window covering you’re greeted with what looks like a million bug eyes of every shape and size starring at you, some running relay races up and down your window pane and those bolder bugs, begging with their little bug eyes to come in.

The little ones try to weasel into any opening when you’re not looking. The larger ones  with a fling start, try to slam their heads into the glass in hopes of getting in through the miracle of glass osmosis.

These are tenacious bugs.  In fact they will eyeball you in a manner akin only to a Brooklyn NY Street bully who won’t let you pass down the street on the way to your own home.

As I eyeball them back the softer side of me contemplates for a very brief second or two, opening the window and letting them in, just to see what would happen. Would they fight for the Facebook corner on my computer screen, would they all make a mad dash for trash can, or would they fly around the light singing songs of buggy glee. In reality, they would head straight for me and in my immediate future would be a sea of calamine lotion and round the clock antihistamines.

With my window-closed shut, and with an appreciation for these multi-legged and winged neighbors who I can only admire from afar, I recount some of my favorite bug of the month stories, here in Costa Rica.

Black Bugs:

One month we had these little tiny black bugs that came in by the hundreds. One minute the beige tile floor looked normal and the next minute it was covered with moving black specs. We never did figure out how they got in or where they came from.  There was no obvious black bug parade. As they marched towards our sleeping dogs, we would take turns scurrying to sweep them into the dustpan and hurl them every so gently out the front door. By the time we turned around to return back into our home the floor was full of the buggers again. It went on for a month and as mysteriously as they arrived, they left, not to be seen again until same time next year.

June Bugs:

The mystery of the June Bug was even more confusing.  The June Bugs look like giant flying brown hard-shelled beetles. They slither in through the window and door cracks as soon as it gets dark outside, with one goal in mind, to fly straight for your head as fast as they can. After they hit you in the head they fall heroically to the floor dead. Like kamikaze pilots they are dedicated to their cause with little regard to themselves and no expectation of a reward. There must be some secret reason these June Bugs do this, but to date, this writer remains ignorant. One year it was an especially disturbing June Bug Season. I was up late working at my desk many nights in a row.  Even with the curtain blocking the light from inside the house, these crunchy kids relentlessly squished themselves into the teeny tiny space at the base of the window track.  I stuffed paper and cotton balls in every crack I could find and still they got in.

I was in the middle of writing proposals and became weary of losing my concentration to swat at the continuous flow of freaky fliers. After several rounds of swatting and catching stunned and semi dead June Bugs, I gave up. It was much less distracting to have them “biff me off the head” and fall to their prescribed deaths than it was to try and stop them. To make things more mysterious, the June Bug arrives in Costa Ricain May not June. Did these bugs think that by doing that they would catch us unsuspecting humans off guard? Only the June Bug knows for sure.

White Moths:

In the wake of the June Bugs are the White Disco Moths. Ok that is not their official name but it’s as good a name as any. They look like Vidal Sassoon himself did their hair. These moths arrive by the thousands and congregate around the Liberia International Airport. They don’t seem to bother air traffic and are quite an exceptional sight for travelers lucky enough to see them. These little guys are the whitest white you’ve ever seen. They almost look like they are wearing tiny white velvet clothes or were dipped in the whitest of white traffic paint.  Atop their little round super white heads is the largest shock of white spikey hair a bug can ever sport.

Red Ants:

And well, as I conclude, no bug story would be complete without a reference to my beloved Horatios (yes that’s my made up name for them). Horatios are large red ants that come into the house at night. They run around like maniacs scared of their own shadows and petrified of people. When they see you (generally on the kitchen counter) literally stop dead in their tracks, almost jump up in fear on their hind legs and high tail it out of the house via the nearest crack or crevice. Why they come in the first place, who knows? They don’t even eat anything, they just run around frantically probably wondering how they got in and even more concerning how they are going to get back out.  Why Horatios you might be wondering, well they are bright red, like my favorite red haired TV dude David Caruso who plays Horatio Caine on CSI Miami.

As sit at my desk at 4pm on a Friday afternoon, I can only wonder what buggy antics the Jungle has in store for me tonight and like that kid on Christmas Eve, where the heck I put my Santa PJ’s.

We began early morning by long-tail boat upriver in Chiang Rai province, just outside of the small city center.  It was raining and the noisy but quick engine had us drenched in no time.  We were brought to an elephant park outside of a small river village, the “park” merely a place where tourists hop on elephant back.  We were carried along narrow streets inhabited by modest Thais in their daily activities.  The roads were dirt rather than paved, lined with stray dogs and cats, scarf vendors, and numerous food carts.

After feeding our ride its share of bananas and bamboo we were whisked to a local wedding by our guide.  Here we viewed a young veiled maiden and were asked to give a donation as a wedding gift.  Next was our authentic Thai lunch, served around a ground table at our guide’s home in the village.  It consisted of meat curries and stews, rice, pad thai, and native fruits; all to energize us for the hike to come.

Our trek package included an overnight stay in a remote hill village.  As many westerners likely do, I pictured native people wearing little clothing, living without electricity, and any connections with the outside world.  This was not the case, which we quickly discovered as some villagers traveling via motorbike passed us walking.

We were welcomed by the “tribe” with tea, handshakes, and the cutest puppy I’ve ever laid eyes on.  None of the villagers spoke English, but they did all they could with facial expressions and gestures to make us feel comfortable.  While the village was very friendly and the children were stoked to play with a sophisticated camera, it seems that the village has been transforming into a remote tourism lodge, with rooms, alcohol, and souvenirs for all who pass through.

Not only did making money seem top priority by villagers, but we were also shown dirt floor homes centered around the television.  Village children wore Pokémon shirts and clung to pooh bears, playing a game similar to hacky sack.  While of course some native, primitive customs still remain, others seem to have been overtaken by globalization.  It is questionable whether the metamorphosis is largely due to an influx of tourism in the northern hills, the motorbikes that join them with town, or the television that connects them to the rest of the world.  I suppose it is a mixture of many contributors.

I would guess that many tourists are surprised by their hill trek experience and begin to wonder, if even this remote hill tribe is being severely affected by globalization, is there any pristine place, any untouched peoples, who are truly evolving on their own?  Or at this point, is nearly every person on the planet connected, both rich and poor, by some form of technology or another.

The only way to find out is by experience, and trekking for oneself.

Tips for Trekking in Northern Thailand:

Tip #1:

Chiang Rai is a superb place to book a hill trek, any length from one day to an entire week.  The city is located a bit farther north of touristy Chiang Mai where trekking is a bit more costly.  The larger the group the less you pay, but expect paying about 1200 Thai baht, or $40 US, per day.  This price includes all meals, sleeping accommodations, activities, and a guide (everything but alcohol and opium which the village will likely try to sell to you!).

Tip #2:

Don’t feel like you must book your trek in advance, as you will likely get hit with a higher Internet price.  Most guesthouses will book a tour for you, and many have their own guides for hire.  Chat Guesthouse in Chiang Rai was busy with an alternative crowd, great meals, and helpful staff.  They even have a trek booking area where you will be shown trekking pictures and a map of the region.  You can book on the spot and leave the next day.

 Tip #3:

Some of my fellow trekkers felt the hike was very strenuous, so make sure you have proper shoes, a light backpack, water, and pants, as many of the trails aren’t perfectly maintained.  You will cross a multitude of villagers selling souvenirs, food, and beverages, so some extra cash would be helpful.  Guides and helpers also expect tips.

1. View of Alcatraz Island from the Ferry’s Bow:

We’ll start our tour with a breathtakingly beautiful ferry ride out to the island, which only takes about fifteen minutes.

2. The Golden Gate Bridge:

A little in the distance and just west of the island is the Golden Gate Bridge.

3. Our Tour Guide, Paul:

And here’s my friend Paul the Docent, greeting the island’s visitors just before he takes me on our private tour.

4. China Alley:

I had taken the audio/walking tour earlier and it’s wonderful, but Paul took me off the beaten path and onto the more hair-raising one… starting with China Alley, a Civil War-era ammunitions storage facility so named because it was reminiscent of the alleyways in San Francisco’s China Town.

5. An Old Gunpowder Storage Room:

We went inside one of those cryptic rooms, which is now used as a break room for employees. That back wall? Hey, they don’t call it “The Rock” for nothing…

6. The Earliest Prison:

In the early 1850’s, the first prison, which was underneath the guardhouse, housed military prisoners. Imagine being crammed with a bunch of other men into this icy little room…

7. Descent into the Prison’s Hidden Underbelly:

After that Paul took me way down deep under the Citadel, its early fortified barracks…

8. Early Prison Cells:

…and then into its veritable dungeon.

9. The Old Hospital Operating Room:

The spray-painted graffiti is a leftover from the island’s “Indian Occupation Era.” Creepy, no? Creepy, yes… but it gets even worse. Is there anything more disturbing than an old prison hospital?

10. The Hospital’s Hydrotherapy Room:

How about an old prison “hydrotherapy room,” where the crazier prisoners were treated to a dip in an ice-filled bathtub? And that curious porcelain container on the left? It seems hemorrhoids were a common problem on the island and a soak in this delightful little tub was the treatment. I guess the prison life fun never ended.

11. Lunch Area:

Alcatraz does have a nice lunch area, though, and it offers a wonderful view ofSan Francisco. But if you continue walking past the tables, you’ll discover another, lesser known reminder of why this prison was so famous for being inescapable. The sides of the island just below the prison are covered with agave plants and, as beautiful as they are, were planted to serve a more forbidding purpose. If anyone attempted an escape, trying to make it through these plants’ razor-sharp leaves was as deadly as running through barbed wire.

12. The Island’s Lethal Weapons:

On this grim note we concluded our private tour and headed back to the City for a little civilized dinner and drinks. Speaking of which, I thought it was pretty funny to learn that of all the penitentiaries in the U.S., this one had the reputation of serving the best food. Ah,San Francisco… never to be outdone on the great food score!

If you’d like to learn more about Alcatraz Island and its fascinating history, check out the sites listed below:

Images forAlcatrazIslandPrison

Alcatraz

AlcatrazHistory

While my first vision of communes was devised by a few extraneous Europeans wandering through the countryside of Brazil, I have since learned that many of today’s communes are actually intricately and intelligently designed. The most popular modern communes seem to be attempts at self-sufficiency and sustainability. Far removed from cities, a number of small farms have developed completely organic strategies and allow like-minded individuals to come and share in work and benefits, living off the land. Many of the organic farms grow produce to feed their small community, while enacting very little harm on the environment. Similar to communes of the seventies, modern communes seem to be entrenched in ecological values. It seems that most of today’s communes still value sharing and community, but are also eco-communities.

World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF) is an international organization that links volunteers with organic farms, and has hosts on nearly every continent. WWOOFing has become quite popular in the travel world, as it provides individuals the opportunity to travel cheaply, feel accomplished while on the road, and get in touch with locals in a foreign environment. The organization’s motto is “living, learning, sharing organic lifestyles,” all values which perfectly synchronize with those of communal living. The organization connects those who want to get away, enjoy thinking outside the box, want work in harmony with the land, and share with others.

While I am personally new to WWOOFing and have only participated as a volunteer once, I have many good things to say about my experience. I joined WWOOF Canada eight months ago and began the hunt. I spent a few months reading about hosts and investigating my options. I chose the islands of British Columbia as my desired location to experiment, and sorted through my many organic options until I found a few that matched my interests exactly. I selected a small off-the-grid farm and planned to spend a month living there, envisioning my experience disconnected from technology, and rather connected to the land.
I was completely impressed and full of excitement upon arrival, realizing that this was going to be a very unique experience in my life. Daily routines hardly seemed to be focused upon stressful work. Rather the day revolved around hearty meals, and of course sunshine. Being late in the fall season, the sun set quite early, and was diminishing earlier and earlier by day. While we were certainly living completely communally on Halcyon Horizon, I still have a hard time labeling the locale as a commune, mostly because of the questionable images the term conjures. Still, the mini community based on communal sharing was so warm and relaxing that I’m quite sure I’ve never felt so at ease in my entire life. During my experience on Vancouver Island I had the most vivid, prophetic dreams than I have ever encountered during the night before.

Halcyon Horizon is located about twenty minutes from the closest town, Bamfield, which has about 150 year-round residents. When the wonderful couple who owns the land shops for food, they do so in preparation for months without access to stores. Of course being an organic farm, a large proportion of what we ate was harvested from the garden directly. The garden was energized by a state-of-the-art humanure compost system, built from our own human excrements after two years of breakdown time, mixed with other organic materials.

The compost system was not the only innovative strategy used on Halcyon Horizon. All electricity on the property, being completely off-the-grid, was generated locally by solar panels and a micro-hydro dam. The four of us drank rainwater that first ran through a selective filter, washed dishes with sparing boiled water, and showered modestly only when the sun provided enough warmth to heat the shower tap. This may all seem a bit out there, but as a scientist myself I can assure that all habits and constructions were carefully planned and rooted in science. As a result I was able to reduce my carbon fingerprint to nearly nothing for about a month. It was wonderful.

The idea of sharing, the other WWOOFer and I working rather for money but a happy element to live in, was forever imminent and a very important part of our communal lifestyle. We shared tasks, food, and our cultural differences. Halcyon Horizon is certainly removed from modern society, both physically and electrically, and as a result we all developed respect for each other and the land surrounding us. While it sounds perfect, and it nearly was, one frustration arose relatively frequently. While living far removed from society’s problems and combating them on just a microscopic basis, the world of consumption loomed not far from our seclusion. While we were exploiting very little water and emitting miniscule portions of carbon into the atmosphere, out there everyone else in the world was living normally. While residing on the commune did give me senses of accomplishment and calamity, I have still returned to the real world.

Communes may be a mechanism of retracting oneself and pursuing one’s values in a group with others, but it certainly doesn’t solve the problems of the world in which we desire change.
It’s easy to forget that just because we can’t see or feel change does not mean our actions aren’t making any sort of impact. We must remember that Individual actions lead to micro- changes, which lead to macro-changes, which lead to enormous ones. After all, our actions are the only thing we can control completely.

So now I ask about our modern day communes, how different are they really from those of the seventies? Do most people escape to a commune for just a short period, after which they trickle back in to modern society and go back to their previous lives? And most importantly, can living in seclusion and making a small impact possibly be worse than contributing to the mega-consumerist ways of modern society?

It seems that many of us will never be satisfied, rather dream about living in a peaceful, secluded communal environment where sharing with one another and appreciating the land is of greatest importance. If this sounds rather gratifying to you, WWOOF may be up your alley. The organization will connect you with a wonderful collective environment, countless interesting individuals, and may even take you around the globe asking questions without definitive answers.

Valentine’s Day:

February 14th is the day Korean women, with their sparkly bows, ruffled dresses, and four-inch heels are the ones bringing chocolates to their boyfriends and crushes.  Compared to smoking in secret in the women’s bathrooms, or the tittering laughter and shy mannerisms of the girls on reality TV, such a forward display from the women might seem contradictory.

In the States, I had been accustomed to candy hearts and mass-produced Be-Mine cards exchanged between friends at primary school.  Then in secondary, students could order heart-shaped lollipops or flowers to be sent to blushing classmates.  Most of the time, however, it was the girls on the receiving end.  Even between friends, the boys would have been too embarrassed to exchange anything more than an ironic “Happy Valentine’s Day.”  In Korea, the girls had to brave making the first move, one that wouldn’t be reciprocated in kind.  At least, not until the next month.

White Day:

March 14th, White Day, is the boys’ opportunity (or duty) to respond to the gifts received on Valentine’s Day.  There is some sense of obligation in the gift.  In fact, in neighboring Japan, the expectation is that the man return with a gift of greater value than he was given the month before.  Unfortunately for chocolate loving girls like me, this is not a day for chocolates—simply sugary confections.  White Day does not sport the same glitter and pomp, no hearts hung in windows or special promotions on roses.  It passes rather quietly in commercial comparison, perhaps because the holiday was invented centuries after Valentine’s Day, and by a confectionery.

Black Day:

In Korea, single people have got a holiday, too—Black Day, on April 14th.  This is the day singles head to their local Chinese restaurant to eat a dish of black noodles (jajangmyeon)—noodles covered in black bean sauce.  This holiday could become quite a success internationally, as singles often use Valentine’s Day itself to gather, dressed in black, and drink and party.  Why not give it a day all its own, with a traditional dish and a way to identify other singles?  Maybe next year, they’ll be exchanging chocolates and sweets.

Sisig:

If you’re like most travelers, your journey probably involves its fair share of happy hours. Depending on where you are in the country, many deals during this magic time include food. Almost invariably, one of the options is “Sisig.” Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Diced pig ears in spices are actually pretty tasty! And of course, pair fabulously with San Mig – the national beer.

Lomi:

You can knock out two “weird” food in one dish with “Lomi.” A specialty of the Batangas region, it turns up as a classic in restaurants covering a range of national fare. It contains egg-based noodles, a thick broth, pig liver, and quail eggs. The quail eggs taste much like eggs from chickens.  The liver – if you’ve never savored this organ – is gamey and less tough than muscle. Overall, the dish doesn’t have much to appease a western palate accustomed to fiery curries and flavor bombs. Metaphorically, it’s kind of like eating meatloaf.

Squid Ink:

If you’re a lover of seafood, surely you’ve had “squid rings” or “calamari.” Squid in the west tends to be served one way – fried. Squid, or “Pusit” (poo-seat) will present itself for consumption in almost any Filipino market or on any restaurant menu, generally boiled in soup, pan fried, or barbecued. If you’re lucky, they’ll cook the squid in its own ink. The effect is rather like the most perfectly seasoned, sauteed portobello mushrooms you’ve ever tasted.

Pig Blood:

In theUSA, thanks to a hefty marketing campaign, pork is “the other white meat.” So why is the proprietor at a turo-turo (point-point) food stand insisting that a beef-colored-melange is pork? Pig blood. If you keep your eyes peeled as you pass through the animal section of open air markets, on some butcher’s chopping blocks you’ll see what looks like a brick of dark clay. This paste is actually blood added for flavor to soups and myriad other dishes. Tasty? Well, it can be a bit metallic, but done right it intensifies the flavors and turns a watery broth into a hearty stew.

Cow Tongue:

Are you a fan of meat so soft and tender it falls right off the bone? Then you will love cow tongue (lengua). This is often for offer on bar menus as a snack. It features less commonly on restaurant menus. Invariably, it comes sliced into bite size strips, hot off the grill. Done right (and it usually is), it practically melts in your mouth. The flavor is not a surprise given the tongue is a muscle; it tastes just like steak!

Dog:

If you’re thinking of trying this meat on for size, you’ll need to head to the mountain provinces. Then, either make some Filipino friends or cultivate your “trustworthy” look. Why? Eating dogs has been criminalized by the government. However, it’s a cultural practice with deep roots in the Cordillera region. So, while you aren’t going to find incriminating evidence on any menus, there are plenty of hole-in-the-wall joints serving it. Have a local Filipino take you, and expect a few suspicious and nervous glances from the proprietor. You’ll be setting foot in a place that almost never sees a tourist – especially not of the “western” variety.

The plates of dog meat are served family style and eaten with rice. It’s a bit like eating ribs, as you’ll be plucking from a pile of bones not quite the diameter of a dime cloaked in hunks of roasted meat. The flavor is very rich and savory if not overcooked, much like the “dark” meat of the Thanksgiving turkey. Being so flavorful and greasy, it could maybe play substitute for duck but never pork (as the Chinese-restaurant-urban-myth argues). Eating dog takes more work than eating a hunk of beef, but the flavor makes it worth it!

Pinikpikan:

The pinikpikan style of chicken preparation goes back generations. Before being eaten, the chicken is sacrificed to ancestral spirits in exchange for blessings. Your guide book will have you believing it’s a freaky chicken-beating ritual. Closer to the truth: the chicken’s wings are held together above its back while its body is tapped with a stick. Surely this is uncomfortable for the chicken, but to describe this as a “beating” is a tad extreme.

After the tapping is through (done to cause the blood to coagulate and improve the overall flavor), the chicken is given a hard whack on the head. The goal here is to keep the chicken alive, but not really conscious. Its important that the chicken’s last vision on earth not be a person. Otherwise it will carry part of that person’s spirit to an evil place.

Finally, the half-live chicken is laid over an open flame (usually outdoors) to burn off all the feathers and send it to the spirit world. Then the partially raw carcass is cut into pieces and cooked any way you please. Frying, barbecuing, and boiling are all popular. How does it taste? Well, mostly like… chicken. The flavor isn’t shockingly different, but surely the Filipino palate is more sensitive to subtle differences in the infamously “flavor-challenged” national cuisine.

Well, there you have i!  These are just handful of common, foreign-to-westerners food options in the Philippines.  Feel free to share your story in a comment!

Stray Boots’ Urban Games

But Stray Boots Urban Games are done via text message with clues, riddles, and trivia at your own pace. It’s an adult scavenger hunt that leads you to your next destination but you decide how long you want to stay at each stop. Stray Boots Urban Games Los Angeles has three tours to choose from: Hollywood, Beverly Hills and Venice Beach.

Since my first place and original stomping ground when I moved to LA was Venice Beach (I lived in a bohemian beach shack on Rose Ave), I thought it apropos to celebrate in this area. I’ve outgrown the noise, chaos and freak show side of it – but I still love to return. I also wanted to see if Stray Boots Venice Beach walking tour could actually show me something new.

My mom and step-dad were visiting so I asked them to join my boyfriend and I in the fun as Stray Boots Urban Games touted itself to be group friendly.

Our first riddle to solve on the corner of Pacific and Windward was “What color is the speedster bird at Mollusk Surf Shop?” We scoured the store, looked under each t-shirt and surf board, and near climbed the tree house inside the store to find the answer. Finally, I asked the shop clerk for help. He had no idea. He searched Google for clues. Nothing. Finally, when we guessed the wrong color, he called the boss.

Bingo! The owner usually has a red scooter parked out in front but it was in the shop. We did get the right answer but had to cheat.

Stray Boots Tip #1:

Stray Boots gives a disclaimer that things may have changed since they created the game, but keep this fact foremost in your mind and ask the locals for advice if a question seems irrelevant.

After visiting a hipster clothing shop with a giant crocheted gun and a skateboard shop in search of a chicano ninja guy, we stopped for lunch at a new trendy Venice Beach restaurant, Larry’s, near the boardwalk.

Over lunch, the men were complaining about our noses being buried in our phones. Merely following along with our wanderings bored them. We did try to involve them by sharing the clues and questions, and amazingly, my French boyfriend knew the trivia question of “Who was Mr. Universe in 1957?” but other than that, they weren’t too keen on this adventure.

Stray Boots Tip #2:

If you are more than two people playing the Stray Boots game, break it into teams of two.

With renewed energy, we had answered only nine questions out of thirty so we decided to pick up the pace. On our way to Muscle Beach for a photo op, I got to meet the Venice Beach rollerskating musician icon, Harry Perry. He even sang me a contorted version of ‘Happy Birthday’. That hilarious experience probably wouldn’t have happened on a traditional tour.

Unlike a regular tour where you go on autopilot, nod your head and follow the group, the Stray Boots Walking Tour forces you to be present, interact with strangers and take notice of the quirky (and most interesting) details. We talked to local shop owners, asked the almost naked man adorned with a live snake for a picture and even exchanged helpful tips with others playing the Stray Boots tour that day.

Best find of the tour: the Small World Books hidden in a nook between the giant surfer shark we struck a pose with and the famous Sidewalk Café. Although they didn’t have the edition of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road to answer the question, we cheated again and Googled it.

With the guys’ interest already at a minimum, they were lagging behind, doing their own thing when my mother and I were zipping here and there trying to finish up. We lost my step-dad in the throngs of Venice boardwalk gawkers and their dogs.

Stray Boots Tip #3:

Make each person bring their phone so they feel included and can find you if you get lost!

After the major delay of reconnecting our group, we decided to answer one more clue before calling it a day. I’m glad we did! Stray Boots led us to the wackiest house in Venice. Gargoyles and even the King of Darkness himself were perched on the roof of the burgundy and gold accented house. With our mouths open staring at this architectural oddity, a man and a baby came out and sat on the front steps. The sign read ‘El Bordello Alexandra’ but was this Stephen King’s dark fantasy house or was this baby a product of the illegal transactions going on behind the doors?

Who knows? Maybe Stray Boots will do a Venice Beach Sequel tour and include a walk through the place!

Stray Boots Tip #4:  

The Stray Boots website claims each walking tour takes about 2-3 hours. We spent a good two hours following the clues but still only managed to do half of it. Carve out at least 4 hours maybe 5 hours so you can take your time and not miss out on the great stores and local color.

Stray Boots Urban Games are available in ten US cities including Boston, Chicago, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, San Diego, New York, Philadelphia, Portland, San Francisco, Seattle and Washington, DC. For the price of a movie ticket ($12), it is an uber-budget friendly gift or an original date idea that lends oodles of fun and adventure.

Stray Boots Tip #5:

Bring a phone charger with you, mine died and it slowed the process down only using one phone between my mom and I.

Even though I didn’t finish the Stray Boots Urban Game Venice Beach walking tour, I’ll be back for more as this is what traveling is all about (even in your own city) – looking beyond the obvious, getting outside yourself and experiencing real encounters with the people who make the city what it is.

Check it out at:  www.strayboots.com

San Telmo lacks the metropolitan hustle-bustle of the Microcentro, the massive Disney-like tourist action in colorful La Boca, the Hooters and casino of Puerto Madero, the theaters on Avenida Corrientes and the thumping nightclubs littering Palermo.

A Sunday stroll down Calle Defensa, from Parque Lezama to Plaza Dorrego and on towards the center, will make you forget all that this neighborhood may lack. The second oldest plaza in Buenos Aires transforms into an awesomely overwhelming array of stalls filled with all sorts of treasures for sale, from colorful glass soda siphons to original tango records to gorgeous antique kitchenware and beyond.
Yet, this is no ordinary flea market/antiques fair. If you’ve been to Argentina, or any Latin country for that matter, then you know such a gathering would not be complete without noise and fanfare.

Plaza Dorrego certainly serves as the nerve center of activity for the fair, but it comprises only a part of the experience. Stretching along Defensa for a total of ten blocks from top to bottom, professional tango dancers, musicians, artists and performers all of the highest quality elevate the experience to a different level. Those allergic to shopping need not fear for a lack of engaging activity.

Sunday is a day to be spent entirely within San Telmo’s streets. Once all sales are made final at 5pm, Dorrego reverts back to its normal purpose: outdoor seating for the half dozen resto-bars. From this perch one can sip on a cup of coffee and nibble on a pastry or an empanada, dine on Argentina’s world class beef, enjoy a glass of Malbec or all of the above, all while taking in the display of public dancing that begins at 8pm (in preparation to participate, of course).

The Sunday market is a unique experience that in and of itself makes a trip to San Telmo a must, but it comes around just once a week.