Feature Photo: George D Thompson Photos: author

My name is Ian and I am an airport alcoholic. I’m a nervous flier and I get tragic and poetic when I’m drunk, so plane wrecks seem noble and profound instead of scary.

Unfortunately alcohol on a plane is prohibitively expensive on domestic routes and sometimes unavailable if you are flying in the Middle East.

So what I do to calm myself in those sober moments when flying between Cairo and Tunis—when my plane is midair and about to explode for no discernible reason—is plan exactly how I’m going to survive when catastrophe strikes.

***

The engines roar and I’m pinned to the back of my seat. I’m flying EgyptAir, which is fondly referred to as EgyptScare by anyone who flies it frequently. We pick up speed and then altitude. I’m not a religious man, but I begin to bargain with God.

For example: Dear God, please get me through this flight. I promise it will be the last one I ever take. I’ll use long-haul buses and ocean freighters from here on out. Also, I will start being nicer to people. I will give strangers hugs and I’ll call my mother.

Then turbulence. Just a little wiggle. My stomach hardly drops but I grab my armrests like I might otherwise be ripped from my seat, then I paste my face against the window and watch the wing while waiting for it to fall off. We will tumble downwards and I will scream and flail until we hit something hard.

Nothing happens and the turbulence stops, so I assume karma means I get a few extra moments to plan my escape from and survival of the inevitable catastrophe, which is just moments away.

I think about grabbing a blanket and strapping it to my back like a parachute. I think about timing my free-fall and trying the tuck-and-roll method ninjas use when leaping from high places. Or if I stay inside the cabin of the plane as it barrels downward, I’ll just jump exactly when we hit, offsetting the force of the impact. These all seem like very good ideas to me.

Then the plane jitters again and I go back to bargaining.

***

Every time I land safely at my destination, I feel brave and resolute and defiant. I say to myself, see, no reason to fear. And then I go about my trip.

But every time I go back to the airport, it’s a repeat scenario. So I have begun to address this issue as one of fear management as opposed to practice and refinement of survival techniques.

In light of this, I hit the books on the subject and here’s the knowledge I found that has helped calm my nerves on recent flights:

1. Know the Odds

According to OAG Aviation, an analytical service provider for commercial airlines, you have a 1 in 5.4 million chance of being involved in a plane accident with at least one fatality on any given flight. According to Plane Crash Info a website tracking airline crash statistics, that means a passenger would have to take one flight every day for 21,000 years before they would be involved in a fatal wreck.

And to put it into perspective: according to the National Safety Council, you have a 1 in 272 chance of dying in a car wreck or a 1 in 51,199 chance of dying in what they call a ‘cataclysmic storm’. If that isn’t something to cheer about, I don’t know what is.

2. Choose Your Airline

According to the same institution (OAG), your choice of airline has a big impact on accident rate. The top 25 airlines with the lowest rates are also the largest ones: for example, Delta, KLM, and United. Flying on one of the 25 airlines with the worst accident records, on the other hand, increases your chance of being involved in an accident by over thirty times. Domestic airlines in Africa, for example, tend to wreck more frequently.

For me, it’s a matter of common sense. I try to fly airlines with higher safety standards and ones from countries with regulatory agencies. Worst-case scenario, you’re stuck on one of the scariest airlines in the world. You still only have a 1 in over 150,000 chance of crashing.

3. Sit Near an Exit

The most common causes of death in a plane crash besides the initial impact are fire and smoke inhalation. For peace of mind: sit near an exit and in the aisle. You’ll have a better chance of getting out in case something did go wrong. And anyway, there is not enough air pressure at 35,000 feet to suck you out of the plane if one of the exit doors was ripped off in midair (which had always been my hesitation in sitting by one).

4. Sit in the Back of the Plane

This is not necessarily contradictory to the advice immediately preceding it: there are exits at the back of the plane as well. And according to Popular Mechanics, which analyzed 36 years of seating charts from plane wrecks, people who sit in the back of the airplane have a 40% higher chance of survival. Suddenly the last row, the one back by the lavatories, seems like better real estate than first class.

5. Wear your Seatbelt

According to an ambiguous ‘How to Survive a Plane Crash’ article I read online, one that cited none of its statistics, every centimeter of slack in your seatbelt triples the g-force of the impact as experienced by your body. Even if this isn’t true, the notion is calming and so I choose to believe it. So wear that seat belt tight and wear it while you’re sleeping!

6. Rule of Plus Three/Minus Eight

In an interview with Time, Ben Sherwood, author of The Survivors Club: The Secrets and Science That Could Save Your Life, discussed what he learned at an FAA workshop on surviving plane crashes.

One startling statistic he revealed: research shows 80% of all plane crashes occur in the first three minutes or final eight of your flight. His suggestion? Don’t get on the plane, take off your shoes, put your headphones in, and fall asleep right away. Wait until you are safely in the air.

And if you tend to fall asleep during flights, set an alarm and get up before landing. Eleven minutes of awareness could save your life. You don’t want to be groggy or disorientated if you are trying to find the exit.

7. Know How to Brace for Impact

The best way to calm your nerves before flying is to inform yourself on how to survive if something did go wrong. So if the plane is going to crash, your posture can make all the difference in the world. Keep your head low to avoid any blunt trauma from debris flying around the cabin.

Put your hands on the seat back in front of you and then rest your head firmly on them. Maintain this position all the way through impact. This will help prevent head trauma, as the seat back will provide a softer surface as support for your head and neck. As opposed to, say, your tray table.

At the end of the day, flying is scary for some and not for others. I’m one of the people that will always be afraid of it no matter what I know. But I’ve found that controlling risk factors, like proximity to an exit, help limit the amount of fear I feel. So I manage what fear I can.

But if you are on a transoceanic flight and you hear what sounds like a small child in the back of the plane crying, rest assured that it’s just me wrestling with all my midair demons. And I’ll be fine so long as someone brings me a beer.

Community Connection

Will you be studying, traveling, living and/or working abroad for at least ten weeks between August and December of 2010? Check out the Fall 2010 Glimpse Correspondents Program and apply to become a Glimpse Correspondent.

Above and Feature Photo: Constantin B

Most days it doesn’t feel like there’s a war on. Most days I don’t think about it. But two months ago the Cheonan, a South Korean naval ship, split in two and sunk into the Yellow Sea, and the wheels of hostility have slowly been turning since then.

This week things are moving faster- a torpedo was discovered in the wreckage and the Republic of Korea and the United States have both asserted that the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea was behind the attack. South Korea has cut off all trade and the majority of aid to the North. Leader Kim has ordered his armies to be combat-ready.

On the way to work I call my mom to say hello; 8 am here is dinner-time back at home.

“What are you hearing? Is anything going on there?”

“Nope, nothing’s happening Mom. It’s a beautiful day and people are going to work like always.”

At school I plop down at my desk and check my email. I have my New York Times subscription set up to send me any articles about Korea, and today my inbox is overflowing. Most of the articles say the same thing- Secretary of State Hillary Clinton meets with Korean president Lee Myung Bak in Beijing, pledges support. China continues to ride the fence. It seems like everyone’s waiting to hear where Beijing’s allegiance falls.

Photo: Constantin B

My morning classes are the same as always, and I marvel at the innocence of my students, probably unaware of the gravity of the situation. But at lunch in the teachers’ lounge, the atmosphere is as light as always. My colleagues chat about an upcoming birthday party, a television drama, and one teacher’s husky voice due to a cold.

Six weeks ago they were expressing grief over the 46 soldiers lost on the Cheonan, and praying it was a mine or a mechanical malfunction, anything but North Korean aggression. Two weeks ago they were speculating that the evidence pointing to North Korea was just a conservative party ploy to fabricate a sense of danger so that voters would favor their strong national defense platform in the upcoming elections. Today, not a word on the subject.

I give in after lunch and ask my coteacher, HwanSuk, “Are people talking about the North Korea situation?”

“Yes, of course. But I think it will be fine.” And she’s off to play the piano in the 6th grade choir contest.

Left alone in our office, I feel isolated from what’s happening around me.

Photo: yeowatzup

I have the afternoon free, so I peruse the Korean expat blogs, and finally find a sentiment similar to my own. I come across discussions of what is happening now, speculation on what’s next, advice on packing an emergency bag of important documents, and US citizen evacuation procedures. I am glad to see other people are taking this seriously.

I check the English edition of the Chosun Ilbo, one of Korea’s top circulation newspapers, and find a myriad of articles on North Korean aggression. Apparently four Northern submarines have left port and disappeared from the ROK radar. Kim Jong Il has missiles pointed at Seoul. Half of the nearly 1,000 South Koreans living and working at Kaesong Industrial Complex north of the border have been evacuated for fear of a hostage situation.

A chat message arrives from Andie, another American teacher working an hour north of me in Seoul. She seems to have been doing the same compulsive news-reading as me, and she links me a CNN report.

vandie: Have you seen this?

kate0925: Yeah I saw that one. The DPRK has cut all ties with the ROK as of today.

vandie: I know. My mom is freaking out.

kate0925: Mine says she’s not but I don’t believe it.

I check the exchange rates- the won is tanking. My paycheck is worth 300 US dollars less this month than it was last month. I point this out to HwanSuk.

“Ehhh North Korea.” She sighs and rolls her eyes.

After school I make a trip to the gym- mostly because I don’t have a TV and I want to watch the news. On the treadmill I turn to KTV, and have to wait through several stories about the upcoming World Cup before anything pertinent comes on. Then over an hour of news stories about the war. I try to keep up in my minimal Korean.

Photo: author

Bits of the Cheonan are being recovered from the sea floor.

Continuing inspection of the serial number on what’s left of the torpedo clearly implicates North Korea.

News clips have been intercepted from North Korea’s state-run media. It looks like a newsreel from the 1950’s but it’s from this week. I am really wishing I had worked harder at learning Korean as the anchor goes on tirades in rapid North Korean dialect.

ROK soldiers are setting up propaganda speakers to blast pro-democracy slogans and economic news across the border. I remember reading that the North’s army had vowed to shoot at them as soon as they began broadcasting.

Last are interviews with Korean civilians at Seoul’s main train station. They are most worried about the implications for the South Korean economy. They are waiting to hear what China says. And they don’t want war. That’s all I can understand, but I can see that they are rather unimpressed.

I look down the row of televisions and notice that I am the only one watching the news.

I walk home slowly, trying to process all the information from the day. Along my street people are eating in outdoor restaurants, drinking beer and laughing loudly. School kids are roughhousing in their uniforms. Several old women lean against a wall of an old apartment building, talking quietly. I wonder what they’re all saying.

Photo: azlea

At least once a week, I respond to an email or forum message that goes something like this:

Hi! I’ve been reading your articles and following your blog, and since you’ve lived in Pakistan, I wanted to ask if you felt safe over there. My husband and I, along with our two kids, are planning to move to Lahore/Islamabad/Karachi and we want to know how dangerous it really is to live there.

The problem is, I can’t give a definitive answer whether Pakistan, or any place, will feel “safe” or “dangerous” for anyone else, as there are so many factors involved, like what neighborhood you live in, what contacts you have, if you understand the local language, how you travel, and what situations seem normal and safe to you.

When I first arrived in Morocco for a year of studying abroad, I felt uncomfortable walking in the streets because in Moroccan culture, staring generally isn’t seen as rude. After a few months, I got used to the staring and I no longer felt unsafe walking to town.

In Pakistan, it was the guns that threw me off at first. Everywhere I went, I saw uniformed, stone faced men holding large guns, and during the Danish cartoonist riots I saw Army Rangers and riot squads patrolling the streets. After a while, I realized that big guns are part of everyday life, and that even tiny shoe stores will hire armed guards to watch over their stores after dark. Seeing armed men no longer became a source of fear, but merely something normal.

Photo: author

For expats, planning to move to a new host country takes a considerable amount of effort and research. When trying to decide whether a specific country or city is a good fit for you or if it is simply too risky, there are a number of factors you can look at to calculate risk.

1. Violent Crime

Look at how much violent crime takes place and who seems to be most affected by it. Is it mostly people involved with the drug trade or other illegal activities who are victims, or is the general population affected as well? Check out homicide rates and find out the number of reported sexual assaults. Try to see if these crimes are specifically directed at foreigners.

2. Political Instability

Read up on the country’s history. Has it recently emerged from civil war or other armed conflict? How much of the country’s territory does the government really control? In some areas of the world, elections and changes in power can lead to rioting, looting and chaos. Would changes in the government put you and your family in a precarious situation? If you end up living in a capital city, you may be more affected by governmental issues in your everyday life.

3. Economic Disparity

As an expat, will you be on par economically with a large sector of the local population, or will you be part of a small group on a completely different socioeconomic plane than most locals? When my husband and I lived in Pakistan, we were firmly grounded in the upper middle class and lived among Pakistanis. We were able to shop in the same stores and go to the same markets.

Photo: Desmond Kavanagh

In some cities, expats live in guarded compounds, shop in completely different stores, and aren’t able to have too much interaction with the local population due to such a large income gap. Being seen as part of an economic elite could make you more vulnerable to theft, violent crime or terrorist attacks.

4. Kidnapping & Hostage Taking

There are some areas of the world where foreign hostages are worth quite a bit of money. Google the name of your proposed host country + “hostage” and see what you get. Read the top stories that come up and see if you can spot any trends. Is it mostly locals or foreigners who are kidnapped or taken hostage, and where do these abductions usually take place? If they are most common in a remote mountain area that you don’t plan on visiting or seem to be politically motivated, the situation shouldn’t be as risky for you.

5. Terrorist Attacks

While there is considerable debate over who should be deemed “terrorists” and what “terror attacks” really are, incidents like suicide bombings, the Mumbai shootings and airplane takeovers have a more symbolic purpose and tend to create an atmosphere of fear and instability. If these types of attacks happen in your host country, find out where they normally take place and if specific groups or institutions are targeted.

If the attacks seem completely random or are targeted at foreigners, you will be more at risk than if the attacks are targeted at government and military institutions that you aren’t likely to set foot in.

Photo: thelastminute

6. Natural Risks

We often think of other people as the greatest risk in a new environment, but we should take natural risks into account as well. Is the area prone to flooding or other natural disasters like hurricanes, tornados, earthquakes or tsunamis? If it is susceptible to a certain type of natural disaster, will you able to find housing that can withstand a catastrophic event?

As a foreigner, I didn’t feel that I was any less safe living in Lahore than a local. Most attacks there are targeted against the military, the police and government officers, and I avoided calling attention to myself while traveling, going out on strike days and eating at fancy five-star hotels.

The biggest threat to me was the 120-degree heat, but I also took precautions such as following the local news, speaking Urdu when out shopping rather than English, and wearing local clothing.

I can think of four specific times when I felt unsafe (aside from driving in the car) during my three years in Pakistan: when I felt my classroom shake from a bomb blast, when I had rocks thrown at me while driving through North West Frontier Province, when my car was stolen from my work place and showed up the next morning in front of my garage, and when I had to drive to the India border the day after Benazir Bhutto was assassinated. I was concerned people would be out rioting, but it turned out many took the national day of mourning to play cricket instead.

Community Connection

If you’re thinking about moving or traveling to a “dangerous” country, check out Matador’s guide on How to Travel to Dangerous Places. Have you ever lived in a place considered dangerous? Share your experiences in the comment section.

Women are still not equal. The most obvious evidence of inequality is sexual harassment and assault.

Sexual harassment and assault are targeted at women due to the view that women’s bodies can be controlled and manipulated. Assault is usually not committed for sexual gratification but rather to exert power. In heteronormative and patriarchal societies, almost all cases see woman as victims and man as perpetrators.

Harassment and assault are common globally. Ask any female traveler about harassment on the road and you’ll hear stories ranging from men on the street grabbing her crotch to how she reported sexual assault to a police officer who asked, “Why didn’t you enjoy it?”

Sharing such stories is not meant to frighten anyone but rather to create awareness. These personal experiences are rarely discussed, but should be. Thousands of women travel the world each year: some are harassed or assaulted, some are not.

Avoiding vulnerable situations and being aware of your surroundings may lessen risks but does not eliminate them.

If you let this scare you into staying home when you want to travel, I believe that’s the opposite of feminism: not seeking the path you want because of your gender.

Photo: anna gutermuth

But what do you do when and if sexual harassment or assault does happen? How do you protect yourself but also be culturally sensitive? How can you seek justice abroad?

Types of Harassment and What To Do

Whether traveling as a woman, with a woman or meeting women along the way, it’s important to know how to take action. It is also vital to understand that standing up for yourself or other women is not an intrusion of Western concepts. No woman feels comfortable with incidents of assault, and no woman deserves to have to deal with it.

Street harassment is the most common form of sexual harassment: catcalls, whistles, “Ooh, sexy lady” comments. Often these are men just trying to get attention. As frustrating as it is (and as much it is against my nature), the best thing is to ignore it. If he gets a rise out of you, he maintains power. Responding is giving those men the attention they want but don’t deserve.

Other common incidents of sexual assault when traveling are touching, grabbing, groping, or rubbing on the street or on modes of transportation. These are easy places to assault someone. At a conference on feminism in Bangladesh, a man argued that these are crowded places and bumping into someone is unavoidable. A woman in a headscarf slammed her hand on the table and growled; “I know the difference between an accidental brush and a hand down my dress.” On your own body, you know the difference too. It’s important to trust yourself and know your physical boundaries.

If someone touches a woman inappropriately on the street or bus, say something immediately. Grab his hand and show other passengers, tell the driver or attendant and move your seat. Make a big deal out of it because it is a big deal. Most likely the man will be embarrassed and other pedestrians or passengers will help you.

In a market in India, I watched a man pinch a woman’s behind. She immediately turned and pointed at him, yelling her head off. Other shopkeepers ran to her aid and chastised the man as she walked off. If you find that the crowd gets bigger but no one is helpful, avoid the situation and get yourself to a safe, calm area. It’s great to make a statement but not if it will put you in a more vulnerable position.

Confrontation has no guarantee of success. When a friend was assaulted on a bus, she asked the man, “Do you have a sister? I’m someone’s sister!” He replied, “But you’re not my sister.” Patriarchal traditions are entrenched in societies for thousands of years so understand that retaliating might not be immediately effective. But silence in incidents of assault changes nothing—it permits assault to continue.

Sexual harassment and assault can also happen in hotels and hostels, from friends, other travelers or staff. If this happens to you, change your room or hotel immediately. If there is someone you trust, whether another traveler or hotel manager, report the incident to have the perpetrator removed or fired. When a manager refused to take action after an incident of sexual assault my friend reported the incident to Lonely Planet, which removed the hostel from their next edition.

If anything worse happens, if you are forced, coerced or drugged into performing sexual activities without consent, the same rules apply:

1. Get yourself to a safe place.
2. Try to preserve evidence of assault: do not bathe, douche, brush teeth, etc. If you cannot seek help immediately, take photos of bruises or wounds and write down all details you can recall.
3. Seek medical and legal assistance: Call a doctor, embassy or local police. Decide whether to file a report. Your country’s consulate can provide help in translation, seeking medical aid, reporting the crime, and providing legal aid and counseling services. Some countries even provide emergency loans for travel home.
4. Contact friends or family at home for emotional support or to make travel arrangements if needed.
5. After the incident, seek counseling or therapy. Sexual assault is a traumatic experience and requires professional help in overcoming.

The following are useful resources for female travelers:

Australia Government Smart Traveller

UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office

Canadian Foreign Affairs and International Trade

Sexual Assault Resource Agency (SARA)

National Sexual Violence Resource Center (NSVRC)

By supporting a woman traveler, you are a feminist. If you travel as a woman, you are a feminist. A woman traveler presents herself as a woman who believes that traveling is a right to everyone regardless of gender. Personally, I am a feminist because I want to be able to sit next to a man on a bus and not be anxious that he’ll touch me inappropriately then ask for my email (true story). I am proud to be a woman traveler because I change people’s views of the abilities of women, and I will never let my gender stop me from seeing the world.

Community Connection

Have you experienced sexual harassment on the road? How have you dealt with it? Please share any additional resources or advice for coping with sexual assault abroad.

Photo above and feature photo by wili-hybrid.

I spent three days in Cuzco and the Sacred Valley last week. I was dry for about two hours.

The Vilcanota River was high and moving quite a bit faster than normal as I left the Aranwa Hotel a week ago. Good for rafting, but not good for what happened on Jan 27th.

While it is the rainy season in the Andes, this year the downpours have been especially brutal – the heaviest in 15 years.

For the past three weeks rain has delayed flights, damaged roads and houses, and muddied up the road to Manu until it became impassable – completely screwing up a trip I had planned.

State of Emergency

A state of emergency has been declared in the regions of Cusco and Apurimac. On January 24th the rain didn’t let up. It kept coming. And then it rained some more.

Photo by exfordy.

Landslides trapped as many as 2,500 people in the town of Aguas Calientes, the base for trips to Machu Picchu.

The town itself has seen heavy flooding, but the most serious issue is that the railway between Cusco and Aguas Calientes, has been wiped out at km 82 by the Vilcanota river.

With no other way out, a massive evacuation by helicopter is under way. By the end of Jan 29th, most travelers should be evacuated. Rumors have it that Chile sent its presidential plane for their stranded citizens.

Access back to Aguas Calientes for incoming travelers should be restored within three weeks – though a portion of the rail journey will need to be taken by bus until the rest of the work is complete.

The 28-mile trek on the Inca Trail, where an Argentine tourist and Peruvian tour guide were killed in a mudslide, is also closed until further notice.

Destinations

Community Connection to Peru

There are a few flight delays, mudslides have wiped out roads, an estimated 80,000 homes in the region have been damaged, but the city of Cuzco is still there. Spanish conquistadors couldn’t tear it down.

Tamales, from the dedicated lady right in front of Gato´s market on the plaza, are still two per sol.

Community Connection

Have you seen Matador’s Focus Pages?

Our Peru page should be your one-stop resource for travel tips and articles about Peru.

China doesn’t hesitate to crack down. Photos by Richard.Fisher.

A British man who was caught smuggling a suitcase of heroin into China was put to death this morning. The British government reacted with vigorous condemnation, while the Chinese defended their right to apply the law.

While many Western democracies have given up the death penalty, China executed at least 1,718 people in 2008, by far the most in the world.

Whatever your feelings on the morality of the death penalty, the biggest story here is China’s increasing tendency to tell the West to piss off when it comes to their domestic policies.

No matter how loudly Britain howled, the Chinese were never going to bend the rules for a drug smuggler. Chinese determination to resist foreign pressure has serious implications for global attempts to deal with all sorts of pressing issues…like climate change.

What do you think about China’s stubbornness in the face of foreign outrage? Please leave a comment below!

Feature Photo arasmus Photo: mafate69

Traveling to dangerous places is controversial.

A quick search of travel forums never disappoints for a debate on whether those journeying to pariah or unstable countries are independent-minded travelers discovering the facts for themselves or gullible assistants in legitimizing and indirectly funding condemned governments.

Both sides have been argued passionately and at length, but what is inevitable is that there are those who will continue to venture through such places. Many will continue to explicitly travel to such places as Burma. Others will journey to such zones indirectly – as those who travel from Cape to Cairo must cross Sudan and those who trek Nepal must be wary of areas affected by the Maoist insurgency.

Photo taylormiles

I don’t think such travel should be motivated by simple thrill-seeking, treating areas of great human suffering as danger safaris. But when it is necessary to be in these areas, very careful attention should be paid to the details of the journey.

Plan Your Routes Properly

Traveling potentially dangerous routes should not mean courting disaster for its own sake. Getting badly sunburned on a boat safari might be hilarious as time passes. An unexpected encounter with an armed militia will most certainly be a high price to pay for a lack of foresight on your part.

Checking alternative routes can mean the difference between a thoroughly entertaining journey and one spent worrying more about what may happen in the next hour than actually involving yourself in the experience of your travels. Proper route planning is something that any nomad should pay attention to regardless, but where a journey has inherent risks, it’s absolutely important.

Find Out How Dangerous Dangerous Actually Is

Photo ruifipieggio

While useful for broad-strokes information, you would do well not to rely on the mainstream media for travel advice on smaller areas and out of the way places. Not all of Sudan is a warzone, not all of Northern Kenya is unsafe to travelers and not all of Zimbabwe is an economic ruin. Spending some time and effort to sort out when and where is actually dangerous can save your life – and help guide you to places the mainstream media unfairly campaigns against.

Certain specialist groups such as Hot Spots provide services, like emailing detailed, specialist information on events in your intended travel areas each week. With included analysis of likely future developments and an overall assessment of the severity of the threat level, such updates can offer far more precise evaluations of how dangerous an area is likely to be than news reports or guidebooks could provide.

Other organizations, such as Stratfor provide far more detailed, though less immediate (and for full access, unfortunately not free) assessments of what is happening in areas you might be passing through. This information can allow for informed changes in itinerary, allowing you to make an evolving decision about where you are prepared to travel and where you would rather avoid.

Go Prepared

So you know what is happening in a region and have decided that you are comfortable with any risks involved? Then make sure that you have more than bravado to rely on during your travels, that you know what you would do in an emergency and that you can get out if possible, or that others can get to you.

Photo lakshamananand

Leaving a copy of important documents with someone back home is time-tested travel advice. But what about a map of your likely itinerary? If you disappear from contact with people back home, where would they begin looking for you? Something as simple as a map with your intended route and dates of likely arrivals and departures means that the people who care about you have an idea of where you might be if something were to happen.

Check in regularly. Bring your own mobile phone and swap SIM cards from country to country, or put the phone on roaming. If you intend on moving completely off the grid, then you may want to consider a satellite phone if you feel that the circumstances warrant it.

From point to point, if you have Internet access, checking in with anyone following your journey is also a good idea – it allows them to clarify where you are and where you are heading next. If your plans change, those watching out for you should know.

Finally, make some space in your pack for a first aid kit. A proper one. Consider what might go wrong and pack appropriately. Beyond band-aids and sunscreen, you may need splints, bandages, burn gauze and other more serious dressings and instruments. Make sure you know how to use these things.

First Aid courses are widely available and relatively inexpensive – a quick Google search will find somewhere close to you offering various levels of first aid qualifications, from basic wound care to treating far more serious injuries.

Be Sensible

Photo racoles

Travel can be a planning challenge at the best of times, but travel through potentially dangerous areas even more so. Doing all you can beforehand to realistically assess the risks you might face, trying to reduce dangerous routes as far as possible and equipping yourself with the right gear and skills to mitigate potential dangers can all help to keep your traveling as safe as possible.

Community Connection

Have your travels taken you through areas of concern? How did you cope with deciding on your route and planning for emergencies on the way?

Photo: Katie Hammel Feature Photo: BlogMama

According to news coverage in the United States, there has been a rash of political unrest in Honduras.

These media outlets use words like “rife with economic inequality and corruption” and “violent crime” to describe Honduras, a country not much bigger than the state of Virginia. They note that “the political crisis (has) created turmoil inside Honduras.”

In response, the United States issued a travel alert to the country in July 2009 and the United Kingdom did the same, warning against all non-essential travel in the country due to the ongoing political crisis. Though the U.S. lifted its travel alert on December 8 of this year, the UK continues to advise citizens against visiting Honduras.

Photo: Abouid

Stop the common man on the street in Honduras, however, and he’ll tell you that the situation is far from what’s being described in our news.

Yes, the military made a mistake, which resulted in much of the Western world to advise against travel to the country. Yes, there is graffiti covering the outside of buildings in San Pedro Sulas and Tegucigalpa, but that’s the work of only a small handful of people. And yes, there may be some political unrest, but there has been very minimal bloodshed.

My goal here is not to argue semantics and the power of words with anyone, nor is it to pit he said against she said. Rather, I’d like to share my personal experience with what’s happening in Honduras today. I was in the country on a press trip in early November, and this is what I saw:

People going about their daily lives.

And any present unrest is certainly not targeted toward visitors to the country.

Outside of the political and business capitals in Honduras, there is no sign that anything is out of the ordinary at all.

“One thing is what has been said in the media internationally, but what’s actually going on in the country is another thing, and it is pretty normal,” says Norma Rosales, commercialization officer for the Honduras Institute of Tourism. “Our lives have continued just as they have over the years.”
With the recent and current travel warnings and (I’m assuming) people fearing the worse about the country, I also noticed something else:

The beaches are bare. The restaurants are empty. The hotels are vacant.

And, as a result, the country is suffering … a lot.

Tourism is the largest employer in Honduras, and the industry generated $630.8 million in 2008. While the industry has grown steadily over the past few years—a 19.1% increase in total visitors from 2007 to 2008—Honduras is bracing for 3.6% decrease this year (compared to the expected 6.6% increase).

Though the worsening global economy can be blamed for some of the drop, the political situation in the country and its portrayal in the media probably have something to do with the fact that some hospitality businesses that had five employees are now getting by on only one.

In a country that has to compete with the likes of Costa Rica and Belize, travel warnings issued by Western countries can destroy income that so many people in the country reply upon.

Here is my concern: When people are unemployed, they have to find a way to feed their families. A variety of studies across the world have shown that, while violent crime doesn’t increase with the rate of unemployment, petty crime—theft, burglary and larceny—does. Perhaps we shouldn’t be worried about whether Honduras is a safe place to visit now, but whether the lack of tourism will result in it becoming the place the Western media has already made it out to be?

Don’t get me wrong. I like personal service at a restaurant and miles of Caribbean shoreline all to myself, but it shouldn’t be at the hands of travel warnings that scare, rather than inform, the general public. Take from the recent news coverage and advisories what you want, but here’s my request to you: Do your research and look beyond the mainstream Western publications for information about what’s going on in Honduras—or any country against which travel warnings have been issued.

And if you’re looking for a cheaper alternative to some of the more popular Central American countries, I highly recommend Honduras. In order to get people back in the country, many places are offering steep discounts and low season prices during high season times.

And, just to dispel any concerns that I’m giving lip service to Honduras because I visited the country on a press trip, I’m not. In fact, I’m already scouring airfare to make a return trip with my husband. When countries are worthy of visiting, they get my attention.

Feature Photo: Robert Thompson Photo: prakhar

We’d taken refuge from the soggy Bogota afternoon in the hostel’s dank kitchen, where we sat drinking coffee and swapping tales. As this was only my third trip out of the country, I sat quietly, listening to the boys one-up each other. No one could beat the Swede in zip-off pants.

He sat smugly, like a guru, doling out morsels of his tales in titillating tidbits. He’d dyed his hair brown, donned dark contacts, and backpacked through Iran, Iraq, Pakistan. He’d ridden buses rarely, walked mostly, and had almost been killed (purportedly) by an anti-American lynch mob. Sparks of awe and admiration flew from the enthralled eyes of other travelers.

One of the boys in his rapt audience turned to me, suddenly aware of my presence. He quizzed me on my basics: where was I from, how long was I traveling, did I speak Spanish. “What’s your itinerary?” was his final question. I bit my lip as he looked me over, sizing me up for what I was: an early-twenties American girl, not terribly well-traveled, with a mediocre accent and a minimal vocabulary. I recited my basic plan: Bogota, Medellin, Cartegena, Santa Marta and La Ciudad Perdida.

“Hmph,” he snorted. “Typical.” And with that, he turned his attention back to the blond god before him.

Photo: julien_harneis

Fast forward several years and a couple thousand miles to a recent afternoon rattling down the uneven pavement of Interstate 880, blasting NPR. I’d just caught the beginning of a story on France’s proposal to charge tourists for rescues from risky spots while abroad. The hotly debated bill came about several months ago, prompted by a much-publicized rescue of French citizens who were captured by Somali pirates while pleasure-yachting around the Indian Ocean.

Reportedly, public outrage at the travelers’ perceived irresponsibility was intense enough to inspire a bill that would require tourists rescued from dangerous situations abroad to repay rescue costs (aid workers and journalists excluded). A coordinating author from Lonely Planet was on hand to discuss the proposal and its implications, a discussion that centered around issues of travel safety, and real versus perceived dangers abroad.

Here’s something most independent travelers, including myself, rarely check before going abroad: the Department of State’s current travel warnings. When you grow up amid a culture of fear-mongering, it’s easy to get desensitized.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you think, the world’s sooo dangerous and I’ll get kidnapped and killed the moment I leave the US. Nomadic Matt has cited fear as a principal factor preventing Americans from traveling abroad, and Brave New Traveler takes a good look at both sides of the fear argument to analyze why so few Americans go overseas.

Photo: royandsusan

Yet once certain travelers step outside the country and see the rest of the world isn’t the depraved war zone it’s often portrayed to be, they get cocky. And brazen. And sometimes stupid.

Take that to the extreme: extreme tourism. I haven’t heard this term in awhile, but it was tossed around the hostel table in Bogota that afternoon. It refers to a type of off-the-beaten-path thrill-seeking travel that prides itself on brushes with danger. Real danger. As in, I’m-gonna-walk-through-Baghdad-just-to-prove-I-can danger. Implicit in this type of travel, I would argue, are entitlement and bragging rights.

Which begs the question: should risk-taking travelers enjoy the luxury of being rescued, at the expense of their countrymen? The French don’t seem to think so. Nor do the Germans. The United States—well, we don’t really need to worry about it, since so few of us travel to begin with. Reportedly vague and insufficient, the French bill also opens the door to a lot of loaded issues—namely, who decides what countries and regions are dangerous, and whether travelers are behaving recklessly?

I’ve been to three gasp-evoking places often deemed too dangerous for travelers (let alone a solo white girl): Caracas, Mexico City, the entire country of Colombia. I didn’t go to any of these places because they were considered dangerous, but despite them being considered dangerous.

Photo: author

One I ended up in circumstantially, but the other two I sought out—I’d heard too many good things from other travelers. I did my research. Street sense and good luck got me through unscathed. But there’s certainly people who would have regarded my traveling in these places as reckless, stupid and asking for trouble.

I remember thinking Colombia was a lot like Oakland. Which isn’t true: armed military don’t roll through city streets, and you can’t smoke cigarettes inside shopping malls (not even Eastmont). But both places have a sort of infamy to them, a danger that either lures or deters.

As in Oakland, many parts of Colombia feel totally safe; as in Oakland, other parts of Colombia continue to feed the unsafe reputation. To stay safe in Colombia, I did everything I already do in Oakland: don’t go out at night alone, stick to main streets in safe neighborhoods, don’t ride buses at night, check my back like a motherfuck.

The Swedish guy in the Colombian hostel reminded of suburban kids that move into Oakland warehouses. They proudly tell you they live in the Lower Bottoms, Murder Dubs, Dirty 30s, Ghost Town.

“The thugs aren’t that bad, really,” they tell you. Then, knowingly, as though they’re imparting some great gem of karmic street ethics upon you—”If you don’t bother them, they don’t bother you.”

Then they mugged/assaulted/held at gunpoint, and they leave, go back to their suburbs bruised and bitter and hating the town they so recklessly glamorized.

There’s a certain romance with violence and danger that people who have no real experience with violence and danger have. It’s exciting, enlivening, visceral and real. It’s the wild-eyed rapture of Futurists (which for all of their sexism, fascism and idiocy still created some good art). It’s as easy to write off as the uninformed fear that keeps some folks away from Oakland, away from traveling, cocooned in familiarity.

But neither side is right, neither view complete. They’re just two sides of the same coin—exoticizing someone else’s world, treating it as the Other, instead of attempting (however falteringly) to meet it, understand it and experience it as it is. Can I claim to have traveled so honorably? Not really. But I can claim to have tried.

Which could all be an elaborate rationalization for why the rules don’t apply to me—why I haven’t gotten into any real trouble while traveling, and why I would surely be rescued in the event of any dire incidents. And not expected to pay for it. (Because, after all, I’m not French.) But I suspect the truth lays somewhere muddled between all this, between embassies and travelers, the frightened and the intrepid, the streets of East Oakland, the seas of Somalia and hostel kitchen tables around the world.

Feature Photo: Marc Oh! Photo: didbygraham

The central Mexican city of Puebla has recently introduced a new fleet of thirty-five taxis for women only. The taxis are driven by women and are open only to female passengers; they’re also painted a Pepto Bismol pink and contain GPS systems and special makeup mirrors in the backseats because you know, women like to spend most of their time en route meticulously applying lipstick.

The taxis have received an enthusiastic and positive ground level response from women, but Mexican women’s rights organizations find the idea appalling. Vianeth Rojas, a member of the Network For Sexual and Reproductive Rights in Puebla, told the Associated Press “[The taxis] are absolutely not helping eradicate violence against women.”

The new cars are meant to protect women from harassment (or worse) from male taxi drivers, and come in response to frequent complaints from Mexican women of being accosted by male drivers. Yet one has to wonder, is creating a fleet of candy-pink cars with makeup mirrors really a step forward for women’s rights, or is it simply reinforcing the same macho attitudes that lead to these harassment problems in the first place?

Female-only taxis exist in many parts of the world, including Moscow, Lebanon, Colombia, and Dubai, in response to security issues and cultural attitudes about how women can travel and who can accompany them. In cultures in which contact between women and men is strictly regulated, such as that of Dubai, women-only taxis may be unpalatable to foreigners but at least seem fit the cultural context.

But in a country like Mexico, in which there are no taboos against women traveling with men who aren’t their husbands or brothers, the taxis seem to me a band-aid solution to a social problem, not an expression of an inherent cultural belief. The taxis announce, in pink, that women are girly, delicate creatures who need to be protected from the leering tendencies of men, who need a chance to pretty themselves up for their men in the safe company of other women.

The cars also imply that the men who accost women simply can’t help themselves, and should be separated from women instead of asked to change their behavior.

What do you think? Would you ride in a pink taxi? Do you think this is an effective solution to the problem of harassment? Most readers here thought it was a great idea. What do you think, Matadorians?

Kick off the debate below.

Feature Photo: decade nullPhoto: jgurbisz

This article was originally published in a different magazine under a different name.

The first thing I noticed about my cell was the stench. It smelled like someone shit in a pan, then pissed in that pan, then cooked that pan on a hot stove. I gagged as the jailer slammed the solid steel door and slid the bolt into place.

“Un momento!” I cried out. “Donde está la luz?” He laughed lightly. “No hay.” Then he was gone.

I found a lighter in my pocket (their search was less than thorough) and examined my cell. I was standing in a quarter-inch of water, overflowing from a hole in the corner. That hole was supposed to be the toilet.

The cell was the size of a standard office cubicle and designed to hold four prisoners, with four concrete slabs protruding from the walls. Rats, big motherfuckers, started to squeeze under the door to investigate. I climbed onto one of the high bunks, away from the rats and the fetid water, praying to God that there would not be any more surprises. There was a small window near the bunk, but no moon.

Never had I imagined that I was going to end up in a third world jail. I’d never even been to a first world jail, and this isn’t the kind of thing a person should plunge into headfirst. You should be able to warm up to it—maybe with a disorderly conduct charge and a night in the drunk-tank back in Seattle, for practice.

But I was a science geek. My time in a research laboratory, staring at bacteria all day, did nothing to prepare me for the isolation and squalor of a Central American prison.

The story began six months earlier, on April 12th, 2007. That morning I received a phone call informing me that I had been awarded a prestigious travel fellowship. A U.S. university was going to pay me to travel for eight months, by myself, in two different regions of the world.

Photos: author

The farthest I had ever traveled before was a quick jaunt over the Mexican border for cheap tequila. All my friends were jealous.

Three months later, I flew into Cancun and hopped on a bus heading for Guatemala. The first few days were filled with apprehension and horror: I had no fucking clue what I was doing. For example: I paid an “exit tax” to a border official when I left Mexico, only to be informed by a fellow traveler some days later that Mexico doesn’t have an exit tax—which made sense, since I had watched the border guard tuck my 200 pesos ($20) into his overstuffed wallet.

I learned as I went, riding buses through Guatemala and hitchhiking across Honduras, studying Spanish and climbing mountains. I whiled away long days lounging in hammocks, reading books about Central American political history. I basked in the sun on white sand beaches, smoked joints, and went diving in the warm waters of the Caribbean.

Nicaragua is the second-poorest country in the western hemisphere, an ideal place to study Spanish if you’re trying to stretch your money as far as it will go. I arrived in Granada anxious to start a new round of Spanish classes.

The locals seemed proud of their city: Granada represents a modern Nicaragua, where $200-a-night hotels, Irish pubs, and high-end tourists line the ancient stone streets. To me, Granada represented just another tourist attraction. This was not what I expected.

The euphoric cloud I had been riding during my first two months was evaporating, and I was beginning to feel homesick. I spent the week in a state of melancholy, half-heartedly studying Spanish, anxiously waiting to finish my classes so I could get out of the city.

I was desperate to recapture a bit of the adventure that had fueled my first two months on the road. I was about to get more of it than I wanted.

On the morning of my arrest, I woke up in a funk. (I’d lost one of my three pairs of fancy travel underwear—one-third of my total underwear collection at that point.) Things started to look up when I arrived at school and my Spanish teacher, Omar, asked me if I wanted him to buy some pot for us to smoke that night.

I have been a more than casual smoker since I was 14, and decided before the trip even started that—despite the penalties—I wasn’t going to quit smoking. I enthusiastically handed over 100 Cordobas (about five dollars) and agreed to meet him in Parque Central later that night.

We met as planned and started walking down Granada’s cobbled streets towards my hostel. As we walked, Omar pulled a small plastic baggie containing about two grams of pot from his pocket and handed it to me for inspection. I quickly glanced at the bag and slipped it into my pocket as we continued on.

I was in a better mood than I had been for days when a voice yelled “parese!” (“stop!”). I turned and saw an obese cop precariously perched on the handlebars of a bicycle, peddled by an old Nicaraguan man struggling to keep the bike upright. Awkwardly dismounting from the handlebars, the cop rushed over to us. Omar said “fuck” (in English), and we were up against the wall.

After searching Omar, the cop turned to me. He quickly found the bag and said: “You are in big trouble.” This must have been one of the only English phrases he knew because he kept repeating it over and over again. That and “take it easy” any time I tried to speak to him.

The gentleman on the bicycle had ridden past us a few minutes before. I remembered him staring, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. He had probably seen Omar hand me the bag and, thinking he might extract some money from the situation, found the first policeman he could. I offered to pay a “fine.” The fat cop refused. I offered again. He refused again, handcuffed me, and took me to jail.

We stopped at my guesthouse on the way so I could retrieve my belongings. At the jail, I was ordered to remove all my valuables from my bag so that they could be entered into the evidence log. I had been planning on leaving the next day to hitchhike the east coast of Nicaragua and went to an ATM to take out the cash I would need for two weeks. When all was said and done I had over $900.

Throw in an iPod, a camera, and a watch and there was well over $1,200 in cash and electronics sitting on the counter. It is profoundly uncomfortable to watch someone count out your traveling money, probably over half his annual salary, knowing that he thinks you are a stupid, ignorant, rich American who is about to get exactly what he deserves—which you kind of are.

I lay on my concrete slab for hours, while countless questions raced through my head: When was I going to be released? Would I be able to call my embassy? How long before my parents or my girlfriend started to worry? How long could they keep me here?

I finally willed myself into a fitful sleep. I awoke frequently, once completely confused about where I was. When the reality of the situation hit me, I curled up in a ball on my concrete pad and cried.

Around mid-morning, a female jailer came on duty. She taunted me in Spanish and laughed when I tried to ask questions. She instructed the prisoner in charge of handing out food to give me none, and refused to let me use another cell to go to the bathroom.

That afternoon, I was moved from my soiled cell into a clean(er) one with two other prisoners. My cellmates were very kind to me. When I told them that I had not been given any food, they produced a couple of small bananas and a cup of instant milk.

We spent the afternoon trying to chat. During our halting conversation, I learned that one had tried to kill his wife in a drunken rage, and that the other was an accomplice to the murder of an American woman during a botched robbery three months earlier.

I didn’t really formulate my escape plan—I just started it and realized I would have to keep going no matter what. I began clutching my chest and complaining about the size of the room, then pacing quickly and working myself into a panic. I told my cellmates that I needed medicine for my heart and asked them to call the jailer.

She looked in on us, slammed the door shut, and began walking away when my cellmates came to my rescue. They shouted at her to come back, and soon prisoners in other cells began shouting, too. Five minutes later, she returned with her boss who escorted me down to an office. He screamed furiously at me while I stood, feigning chest pain and asking to see a doctor.

Luckily, they did not want to take the chance that some American kid might actually keel over and die in their jail. Can you imagine the paperwork associated with that sort of fuckup?

Two hours later my travel-angel arrived. Inspector Amaru was one cool guy. He was like the detective you see on TV who drives a car that is way out of his pay grade, sleeps with gorgeous female officers, and busts the really bad motherfuckers without breaking a sweat. He also spoke fluent English.

He led me to the cafeteria and offered me a cigarette and a plate of gallo pinto. After I wolfed down my meal and sucked my cigarette down to its filter, he explained that he was going to take a statement. If he believed me, he would try to help me. If he thought I was lying, that was the end of our time together. Obviously, I spilled my guts.

As he had promised, Amaru went out of his way to help me. He called the police commissioner at home and convinced him to let me out due to my “medical condition.” I was released—my passport and belongings were not—and instructed to return Monday morning, at which time I would sign a formal statement and meet with the commissioner.

On Monday morning, I went to the police station filled with nervous anticipation. I spent the first hour giving a formal statement, with Amaru translating and an officer taking dictation on a decrepit typewriter that looked like it had seen action in the Nicaraguan Revolution.

Then I was led into the commissioner’s office. Again, Amaru translated as the commissioner said he could not waive the charges against me because they were drug-related. “If you had robbed someone or beaten someone up this would not be a problem, but this is out of my hands,” he said. There needs to be a trial.”

I felt as though I had been punched in the stomach. Leaving the police station, I felt like I was about to have a complete breakdown. Amaru calmed me down and told me a friend of his was a good lawyer and that we would see her immediately.

I had expected an office building, but we pulled up in front of a bar. My lawyer was sitting at the bar, drinking a beer and chatting with some friends. She came over and talked quickly with Amaru but not with me. I started freaking out again. “Don’t worry,” Amaru assured me casually. “We’ll meet her at the courthouse tomorrow morning and we’ll see the judge then. You want some lunch?”

On Tuesday morning, Amaru picked me up and I rode to court on the back of his motorbike in a complete downpour. We were soaking wet and dripped on the floor throughout the pre-trial hearing. A trial date was set for that Friday and I was released on my own recognizance, meaning I could get my passport and belongings. I paid my lawyer via Amaru and he drove me back to my hostel. When we arrived, he handed me my passport and said solemnly: “I would be out of the country by Friday if I was you.”

We shook hands and I just stood there repeating “gracias” over and over until he pried his hand away. He gave me a small grin and hopped on his bike, never asking for anything in return for all the help he had given me.

The following morning, I slipped out of my hostel before dawn and boarded a southbound bus. Three hours and three buses later, I was at the Costa Rican border. Somehow, I managed to walk through Immigration without freaking out. I was in Costa Rica.

I hitchhiked south. By nightfall, I had arrived on the Pacific coast in a small surf town called Samara Beach. After checking into a guesthouse I took a long walk, basking in the fading sunlight and enjoying the fresh coastal air. I passed a young Costa Rican surfer sitting on the beach lighting a joint. “lo quieres?” (“Want some?”) he asked grinning. “Hay policia aquí?” I asked, smiling slightly.

“Soy un policia!” he laughed. He handed me the joint. We sat chatting amicably and leaning back on the sand, watching the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. It felt good to be free.

Photo by wili_hybrid Feature photo by mshades

Your plane leaves at the crack of dawn, the train has arrived at some unknown hour of the morning or you’ve just missed that last bus. All the hostels and hotels are full, you’re down to you’re last dime, or perhaps you’re just looking to save a few bucks.

While you’re traveling there will be at least one occasion when you have to face spending the night without the luxuries of a bed and comforter.

Here are a few hints and tips to ponder before you close your eyes for the night:

Photo by barto

Get Advice

You’re missing out if you bed down in an airport without first consulting www.sleepinginairports.com, with reviews and practical advice from practically every airport in the world.

Find out which airport has comfy sofas in the departure lounge, or where you can expect to be woken by rats running across your face. Some train and bus stations are also included on this useful website.

Make sure you know the opening and closing times, if applicable, of anywhere you might consider sleeping. For example, Paris’ budget airport Beauvais chucks out sleepers at 11 pm every night.

With little except fields around Beauvais, if the weather is less than warm and dry you’ll be in for a very unpleasant night.

Follow Your Instincts

For a good nights sleep you need peace and quiet, a soft place to lie down and perhaps some shelter should it rain. The city park or a local beach typically meets all of the above requirements.

Unfortunately, all the low-lifes of the city, the dealers, pimps, alcoholics and other petty criminals, also seem to like these kinds of areas.

Several travelers have reported spending the night on Rio’s beaches, only to be woken in the early hours threatened with a knife and a less than polite request for all of their belongings.

Photo by motoyen

If an area doesn’t look safe, or even if you just have a ‘bad feeling’ then it’s best to follow those instincts and look elsewhere.

Love Your Bags

A passenger recently stranded in Phoenix Airport fell asleep with his laptop strapped around his body. In the morning the strap remained, but his computer, camera, passport and bag had disappeared.

Use a locked storage area if possible or hug your luggage and don’t let go. One Internet blog even suggests duct taping everything to your body so that there’s no risk of limp arms letting go of anything.

Your passport, money and credit cards should be so well hidden on your body that not even a thorough customs search could retrieve them.

Don’t Expect to Sleep

With your head stuck between an armrest, the metal frame of a chair sticking into your side and the departure area full or passing travelers, it’s not always easy to fall asleep.

There’s nothing more frustrating than tossing and turning all night, especially when you have no room to toss and turn.

Ear plugs are indispensable for blocking out the sounds of announcements and passing cleaners, but also bring a good book or a full iPod to pass those early hours when sleep isn’t possible.

Be Prepared for Company

While it’s nice to have some peace and quiet while you sleep, if you see other people bedding down for the night it means that this is probably a safe (ish) place to stay. Resist the urge to head to that dark, quiet corner far from anywhere.

No matter where you choose to sleep, be aware of who’s around you.

I once awoke on an overnight bus in the U.S. to find my male neighbor attempting a ‘massage’ of my upper thigh area. A close friend of mine once had her sleep disturbed at a the Berlin Train station to find a semi-naked man trying to lick her toes.

While these occurrences are rare (and tame in comparison to other backpacking tales), ask yourself if you really want to risk getting groped by a stranger.

Photo by bratha

Are You Legal?

New York’s JFK airport does not allow ‘lying down’ inside any of its buildings. Neither does the entire city of Singapore.

If you can’t perfect the art of sleeping in an upright position, expect to be woken up by some less than polite security official. While it is rare, they may be within their rights to detain and/or fine you.

Consider the Alternatives

While you might succeed in getting a good night’s sleep, roughing it is never the most pleasurable night of your trip and your safety can never be guaranteed.

Before you resign yourself to a rough night, think about what else you could do. Perhaps sitting on an overnight bus/train to another destination, going to an all night café or finding a friend with floor space may be a better option.

It may even be worth shelling out those extra dollars for a nice hotel.

Community Connection

Sleeping rough is more dangerous for female travelers. Check out 7 Must-Know Personal Safety Tips for Solo Female Travelers for candid advice.

A silk sleeping sack is a great piece of gear for sleeping rough. Check out Matador editor Tim Patterson’s review of the Travel Hammock silk sleeping sack.

Have you slept rough while traveling? Tell us about your experience by leaving a comment below.

Photo: panoramas

A reader wrote to me:

I’m leaving this comment because since you have lived in Russia and know much more about what’s going on there than I do, I was wondering if you could answer a question for me. I was wondering, do you think it would even be smart at this point for a Black student to go to Russia to study? I was planning on going there after the summer for a year-long study abroad program but after hearing about all the racism I’m thinking that it might not be the right thing to do. Did you have a lot of close calls when you were over there?

This is a painful question for me.

On the one hand, I have had amazing experiences in Russia and I have been indelibly marked by the time I have spent with Russian history, literature and contemporary society. I can’t imagine my sense of the world outside of my interactions with Russia.

On the other hand, I simply don’t know if I can, in good conscience, advise people of Asian or African descent to travel to Russia in light of the continuing problem of racist violence.

In the past ten days, there have been attacks on Bangladeshi and Chinese students in Moscow, in addition to the earlier assaults this year on citizens of Cameroon and Vietnam. Last December, a nineteen-year-old African American was stabbed multiple times in Volgograd on his way home from the gym.

While these are certainly the most extreme types of violence, interviews with African students also reveal pervasive everyday racism in Russian society. If you travel to Russia, you are, quite frankly, playing a numbers game with your life and your well-being.

Photo: author

That said, you can do some things to improve your odds.

Personally, I was never attacked and I never experienced anything worse than dirty looks, stupid comments and mumbled threats. A number of factors probably account for my “luck” and I’ll share them with you, both as useful precautions and as information that might give you some insight into life in Russia for those of us of “non-Slavic appearance,” in case you are still considering your travel options even after the warning above.

First and foremost, I had the gift of genetics and a bad disposition–I am over six feet tall and, generally speaking, not of a soothing appearance; when I would hang out with African friends in Russia, they would joke that I was their bodyguard. To give you a more clear picture, a few years ago my high school students nick-named me “Mr. Buster, AKA Suge Knight.” If your friends haven’t given you a similar handle, then you should up your worry level a little.

Second, as soon as I got to Moscow, I asked other Asian and African residents about safety and took their recommendations very seriously. I rarely wandered around alone after dark. If there was a major soccer game, I avoided the subways and took a taxi instead to avoid the possibility of running into a crowd of drunken racist football hooligans.

In general, I kept an eye out for groups of sketchy-looking young men and walked away from them, even if it meant I would be late to wherever I was going. And, at the insistence of a Russian friend, I typically carried a small, easy-to-reach knife as a last resort.

Lastly, I tried to maintain a serious appearance—I wore a collared shirt and I always carried a briefcase (even when there was nothing inside of it) to look professional. This was mainly to fend off police shakedowns that tend to victimize people who the police think won’t have their papers in order and won’t want to take matters to their bosses or to court. I also worked on the assumption that skinheads targeted people that they perceived as weak, poor or unconnected.

In short, not a day went by that I didn’t consider the very real possibility of being attacked. I told myself that it was worth it to get my project done and I coped with the stress of constant worry. I also tried to focus on the positive interactions that I had with people in Russia.

Which is one reason why it hurts me to give such a negative report. Most people in Russia are not violent racists and I really love many things about Moscow: the libraries, the architecture, the museums, the street food, the random folks who chat with you at the market, the landlord who picks up the rent and stays to talk for three hours, the other migrants and foreigners who share the pain and the pleasures of being an outsider…

If you read through my posts from the year I spent in Moscow, it should give you some idea of my diverse feelings and experiences in Russia.

But can I responsibly tell a young person of color (who could presumably choose to travel to any country in the world) that it’s advisable to sign up for a year in Russia? Sadly, I just don’t think so.

The world is large and there are many options. You shouldn’t have to fear for your life every day.

UPDATE: I later learned of two more attacks on African students in Moscow; five persons were injured and three suffered stab wounds.

Community Connection

Planning on traveling to Asia? Get one traveler’s perspective about why racism in Asia might not be what you think. Matador’s Julie Schwietert has also written an excellent blog post about race, sex and economics in Cuba.

There are some things you just don’t leave to chance when traveling under the nose of America’s most paranoid rent-a-cops, the TSA. Your great-grandfather’s hand-me-down hunting knife. A lighter used by George Clinton. Illegally adopted foreign children. There are some things that are understood as too precious to risk being confiscated.

But sometimes, people just can’t let it go. Below are a few cases of travelers who should have just forked over the extra fifty for the overnight shipping.

A Round of Applause

Sixty-six rounds of applause, in fact, goes to this traveler who must have mistaken his bullets for…well, to be honest, a bullet is pretty inexcusably obvious. Given that bullets are essentially a bomb that uses the gun to light its fuse, sixty-six of the mini-bombs definitely falls under some shade of the Terror Alert color “really f*ing red.”

Photo:Arthurrh

Personally, I recommend starting with one round before moving up to level sixty-six.

The Case of the Case Made of Coke

This one just sounds like something out of a warped episode of Scooby-Doo. At the Santiago Airport in Chile, a woman was arrested for carrying two suitcases…but they weren’t just any suitcases…(cue gasp)

“The drug was not hidden in the luggage. This time the suitcases were the drug,” said Detective Leandro Morales of the Santiago airport.

That’s right, the suitcases were made nearly entire out of cocaine. Specifically, a substance combining cocaine with resin and glass fiber that could later separate the drug through a chemical process. Morales said they nabbed her because the suitcases were heavier than what was inside.

Last Call Before Boarding

Sometimes you’ve gotta know when to cut your losses. But then again, sometimes it might be better to just drink them.

On his way home from vacationing in Egypt, a 64 year-old Dresden man couldn’t wait to get home to have a nice, relaxing drink after traveling.

Photo:andym8y

So, when airport security informed him that it would have to get home some other way, he decided to chug the entire liter of vodka–that’s 22 and a half shots–right at the security gate. A doctor was immediately called to the scene and determined the man would likely die of extreme alcohol poisoning.

Some of his fellow boozing countrymen might have applauded this extreme act of masculinity and intestinal fortitude, but history shows that they’re clearly outmatched by the Bulgarians.

Another Samuel L. Jackson Flick?

The twenty-first century has seen a lot of new fears regarding traveling by plane: Concealed weapons. Shoe-bombs. Snakes. Now, you can add monkeys.

In what might have been the greatest victory for travel libertarians in the post-9/11 age, a man smuggled a small monkey–a foot-tall Pygmy Marmoset–through airport security in Lima, Peru, only to have it confiscated once he arrived at LaGuardia in New York.

Photo:Steve Evans

C’mon, TSA, haven’t you ever heard of animal rights? As long as the monkey remembered to take his shoes off before proceeding through the metal detector, we take PETA’s advice, and give it the benefit of the doubt.

Newsflash: TSA Seizes $7 Billion From Taxpayers

This final FML moment in airport security history is actually more of a public service announcement. In fact, in this case, the people doing the FMLing should be the TSA themselves.

While reporting for The Atlantic, Jeffrey Goldberg decided to see just how efficiently the United States’ $7 billion TSA budget was being spent. Be warned: the results themselves are nearly as horrifying as an actual terrorist attack.

A sampler of the items Goldberg succeeded in sneaking past the noses of the TSA: pocketknives, matches from hotels in Beirut and Pshawar, dust masks, lengths of rope, cigarette lighters, nail clippers, eight-ounce tubes of toothpaste, boxcutters, a bright yellow, three-by-four-foot Hezbollah flag, and an “OSAMA BIN LADEN, HERO OF ISLAM” T-shirt.

In his eye-opening article, Goldberg nearly boards a Northwest flight from Reagan National with a forged first-class boarding pass. Instead, he frantically tears it apart in a busy airport bathroom, hopelessly waiting for any reasonably common-sensed traveler to report his suspicious activity to the proper authorities. Safety is, after all, everyone’s responsibility.

So, the next time you see someone a scrambling to hide their pygmy marmoset, liter of vodka, or fueled-up chainsaw, fear not: safety is what you pay taxes for, not something you worry about.

Also: Where does TSA-seized contraband end up? Why, government-seized property auctions and sales, of course! Check out Leftover Loot for a listing of places you can turn one traveler’s suspected terrorist paraphernalia into your very own treasure.