Overview: On May 21, 1804, America’s original road trip warriors Lewis & Clark began their westward push from St. Louis along the Missouri River, exploring the lands acquired as part of the Louisiana Purchase.

Thus began a two-plus-year odyssey wrought with death, destruction, the befriending and offending of Indians, and, worst of all, running out of booze, which is not something that will happen on this trip.

Day 1: St. Louis, MO
Highlights: Deep-fried brain sandwiches, a century-old milkshake challenge…

Fly into St. Louis and secure your rental car. The only requirement is that its trunk holds lots of beers, because you have nearly 4,000 miles to go. Tomorrow’s an easy drive, so go big by starting out at Schottzie’s, where the house special’s a deep-fried brain sandwich.

Save room for dessert, though, because next up’s Crown Candy Kitchen, one of the oldest soda fountains in the country, and home to a five-24oz-milkshakes-in-under-30mins challenge. And try not to literally puke your brains out when you hit the city’s top craft brewery, Schlafly.

Day 2: Kansas City, MO
Highlights: Gas station BBQ, seeing JESUS’S MOM’S HAIR…

Rise whenever you fancy, because you only have 5hrs in the saddle today. Your goal is to stay as close to the Missouri River as possible, so take Rte 94 for 2.5hrs to Jefferson City for lunch, being sure to hit up Central Dairy for a massive cone filled with your choices from a seemingly limitless menu.

Your postprandial trek is another 2.5hrs along Hwy 70 to KC, but since you have a car, skip Arthur Bryant’s and head a touch outside town to Oklahoma Joe’s, where some of the best BBQ on the planet (seriously) is served in a gas station.

Next, drop by Leila’s Hair Museum, where there are more than 2,000 pieces of hair jewelry and 400 “hair wreaths,” including two “reliquaries containing the hair of Mary, Mother of Jesus,” the most follicle-forward anyone from Nazareth has been since recording “Hair of the Dog.”

Day 3: Omaha, NE
Highlights: McRibs, real-life Goodfellas…

Photo: CLARK CRENSHAW

Hop onto 29 for a quick ride up the river to Omaha, which is 1) home of the College Baseball World Series, 2) “somewhere in middle America,” and 3) where the real-life version of Ray Liotta’s character from Goodfellas lived in Witness Protection…until he started getting sloppy drunk at local bars and telling people who he really was.

There’s a surprisingly solid bar scene to hit up on Howard St, but first head to a McDonald’s and order a McRib in the very city where it was invented!

Day 4: Pierre, SD
Highlights: An unlimited-sized prime rib, weird rodeo history…

Riding 29 further yet, you’ll pass through Sioux City, where you should stop and pour one out for the original trek’s Sgt Charles Floyd and his fatal burst appendix. From there, it’s a handful of river-running backroads to your home for the evening, South Dakota capital Pierre.

The move here is a sawdust-floored steakhouse called Cattleman’s, where they’ll literally cut you whatever size prime rib you want. Don’t go under 3lbs. You can also indulge your love of rodeo fondness for kitschy museums by hitting a museum dedicated to Ft. Pierre (other side of the river) native son and rodeo legend Casey Tibbs.

Day 5: Williston, ND
Highlights: Ramshackle food trucks, upper-tax-bracket strippers…

Photo: SAWDUST MEDIA

Roughly 8hrs of plains and Teddy Roosevelt National Park stands between you and the oil boomtown of Williston, ND. Stop off in Bismarck and grab lunch at surprisingly authentic Mexican joint Taco Pelanque, then continue on to Williston, which is in the throes of one of the largest oil booms in American history.

Here, everyone with a mobile home still slings food even though they outlawed the practice in city limits, and strippers earn more than most doctors. Beds are hard to come by, so either try to strike gold with a pretty young prospector, or plan to crush beers until you don’t mind passing out in your car, but heed one local’s advice and simply “try not to get stabbed.”

Day 6: Great Falls, MT
Highlights: Avoiding zombies, drinking with mermaids…

With the Missouri finally snaking West again, Rte 2 is your ticket to ride for seven hours through some seriously beautiful, seriously uninhabited country to Great Falls. This place is about as A River Runs Through It as it gets…that is, if that flick also involved a zombie invasion, which for a moment last February citizens thought had occurred, thanks to a hack of the local emergency alert system.

More astounding than a zombie apocalypse, though, is the O’Haire Motor Inn, which not only featuresClark & Lewie’s Pub & Grill, but also has the Sip ‘n Dip Lounge, a tiki bar with a mermaid pool. FYI, by the time L&C arrived here, they’d already been on the road for a full year and hitched their wagon to Sacajawea.

Day 7: Missoula, MT
Highlights: Drinking straight from the still, vertical tacos…

Follow Hwy 15 west and you’ll find yourself in the Montana Rockies. It’s only a few hours to MT’s cap city, Helena, but there’s not much between there and Missoula, so stop off at the Staggering Ox for one of their famed vertical tacos.

From there, it’s on to the home of the University of Montana, which promises a 1:1 bong-to-student ratio. Higgins and Front Streets are loaded with bars and breweries, but the highlight’s an upstart craft distillery known as Montgomery, where you can sample locally sourced vodka and gin, and, sometime soon, their first batch of oak-aged whiskey.

Day 8: Portland, OR
Highlights: Everything you can do in Portland…

Sneaking off onto Rte 12, cruise through the mountains for a few hours before pulling off for a pit stop in Weippe, ID for an early lunch at the exact location L&C arrived at in September of 1805, nearly starving from their trek through the Rockies.

It’s nearly six hours (mostly on I-84) to Portland! If, like L&C, you are now totally out of booze and tobacco, drop by Tails & Trotters for some serious pork, then drink your way through town using this even serious-er guide.

Day 9: Astoria, OR
Highlights: Coastal bars, the actual house from The Goonies…

Photo: THE COPILOT

Fortunately for you, there are only a few more hours to go before your final destination! Pull up a chair at coastal haunt Mary Todd’s Workers Bar and Grill, then prepare yourself to check out the actual house from The Goonies, which was filmed right here in town.

Trek complete — breathe a sigh of relief knowing that you managed to make the entire journey without even one crippling bout of typhus. Right?

This post was written by Drew Wood and originally appeared under the title The Lewis & Clark Road Trip at Thrillist, a Matador syndication partner.

Photo: jenschapter3

Friday, May 24th marks the beginning of Memorial Day weekend, and the official “opening” of the gratuitous, rich-person breeding grounds known as The Hamptons. Coach buses of elderly WASPs, trains filled with socialite-seeking hopefuls, and private jets stuffed with celebrity douchebags migrate towards the farthest point on Long Island for what is sure to be another summer of caviar-encrusted nipples and Moet-drenched panties.

But the Hamptons are just as much fun if you’re a broke-ass traveler looking to cause a ruckus. Here’s how to slum it on the East End of Long Island this summer.

Getting there

It’s about a three-hour to get from Manhattan to the Hamptons. Car is your cheapest form of transport, hitchhiking even cheaper as you can probably get away with not paying for gas, and you’ll get a chance to cruise in someone else’s convertible.

For the summer of 2013, the Long Island Railroad Cannonball line will take those from the city straight to the Hamptons in 94 minutes, for about $54 round-trip. You can also take one of the many coach buses, like the Hampton Luxury Liner or the Hampton Jitney, for anywhere between $49-$100.

Eating

Skip the lavish, seasonal restaurants stockpiled with celebrity paparazzi blinding you as you dine, for under-the-radar locales like La Hacienda in Southampton. Stuff your belly with piles of Mexican food for less than $10 a plate. The Sip ‘n Soda Luncheonette provides cheap midday options and old-fashioned ice cream sodas, where you can remember a time when Long Island’s beaches weren’t overrun with Jersey Shore wannabes.

Don’t leave the East End without trying a lobster roll. Budget your funds so you can shell out the $22 it will cost you to sample some fresh, chopped-up lobster bits mixed with mayo and celery and shoved between a toasted hot dog bun. DROOL. Better than the ones in Maine, just sayin’.

Your hangover helper breakfast comes in the form of the Hampton Coffee Company in Westhampton. Score a free latte when you follow their Facebook and Twitter pages. For crazy-tasty baked goods, seek out a slice of Crack Pie at the Momofuku Milk Bar popup stand in Montauk.

Photo: Tom Cappellino

Partying

The ultimate trash bin of the Hamptons is the Boardy Barn, only open Sundays from 3-8pm. It’s a giant corral of guidos and guidettes from across the Island who want to stand around in the sun and drink $2 cups of beer. The two-hour wait to get in is worth it because there is a 99.8% chance you will get laid.

Other good places to kick back and relax with a beer and the beach crowd include Bub’s Tavern and Wolfie’s Tavern. These places are dive bars by snob standards, but if the locals like you they’ll buy your drinks for the night.

Sleeping

Find a celebrity, seduce them, and stay the night at their beach bungalow. Seriously; it’s free, it’s sexy, and you’re guaranteed to get a smoothie breakfast.

Aside from that, lodging in the Hamptons can be tricky. You can reserve space for a tent at Cedar Point County Park in East Hampton, which sometimes shows movies on the lawn behind the General Store.

Hotels book up quickly and can get expensive, especially those on the beach. They aren’t glamorous estates, but for about $200/night you can sleep at the Montauk Motel or the Longview Resort Motel. Your room might look like the scene of a murder, but when you split the cost between eight of your trashiest friends, who cares?

No animals. No small children. That’s Rule #1 when it comes to indie film projects.

So here we are, on the set of our rock-n-roll video shoot, with three roosters, two turtles, two birds, several fish, a stray dog, and a cat. We’re in Bali, Indonesia, drenched in sweat and running power cables through sketchy outlets on the fourth floor of a rickety old building. A bunch of bad ideas all stacked on top of each other, soaked in booze and hogtied to a homemade motorcycle.

Out of our way. We’re shooting this thing like a third-world bobsled team.

Aside from our resident rockstar Made J, the only animal I’m really worried about is the cat. Our original feline cast member showed up, took one look at our discombobulated animal farm set, and went back home to nap. The second nearly had a panic attack and instantly shed all its hair. Now we’re spitballing ideas for cat #3, like kidnapping a feral street cat (“cat-napping?” that can’t be right), or creating a CGI green-screen digital cat who will hopefully be more cooperative.

We’re losing light. Losing interest. Losing our minds. We should really just forget the cat and start shooting. But no, we need the cat — the cat is the punchline.

All photos: Nicole Gozzer

The joke goes like this: A guy walks into a bar with a rooster under his arm. He sets the rooster on the bar and orders a drink. He eyeballs the room. Everyone’s got an animal. Turtle. Fish. Bird. The chick at the bar has a cat. Cock and pussy, right? But, whoopsie, her boyfriend has a rooster, too. So of course there’s going to be a fight. And the chorus sings: “I’m the proud rooster ’cause my cock likes to fight, well alright.”

Sounded great sitting on the beach with a belly full of beer coming up with this whole idea, but… Holy shit, a cat just showed up! I’m not even gonna ask where it came from, let’s just start shooting. We’ve built our own bar up in the fourth-floor rafters of an unopened Balinese super-club called La Favella. The entire cast is a who’s who of Bali expat creatives. Models. Painters. Musicians. But no actors. And no one getting paid. Just a bunch of goodwill and support for Bali’s only international rockstar / professional alcoholic, Made J.

No one on this island actually has a real job anywhere. Bunch of suntanning artsy-farts. Shooting permits are blue 50,000 notes ($5). And everyone’s keen to support each other’s underfunded, overenthusiastic art outbursts, as long as the beer is cold. And free.

So we have a cockfight. And of course it starts getting out of hand. And of course the country’s leading supermodel, Fa Empel, jumps in and pulls the fighting roosters off each other. “Hey, this isn’t exactly the first cockfight I’ve had to break up,” says Fa.

“Thought you’re more used to starting them,” laughs Made J. She hands Made his cock. He’s giggling and not nearly as badass as he thinks.

Back into character, buddy. Lights, camera, cockfight! It’s hot in here. Sweat pouring. Feathers flying. Whiskey spilling. The guitars rev and everyone starts dancing. Cameras fall from our hands and now it’s just a real live rock show, up in these filthy, sweaty rafters. Animals running loose. Children at play. Music video shoots on the equator. And everyone has a good time. Everyone, except the cat.

Photo by The U.S. Army.

In the US, Memorial Day is celebrated every year on the last Monday in May. Growing up, Memorial Day to me meant a long weekend full of barbecuing, soccer tournaments, and knowing that the next week it would probably be warm enough to wear shorts to school. I’m sure in class they told us to reflect on the loss of life of Americans in the Armed Forces, but as someone who grew up in the suburbs in New Jersey with no connection to the military, I’m not sure if I ever did.

Today, as a military wife, I feel differently. I still like barbecuing and a three-day weekend, but now I do reflect on those who have died during their military service, especially the thousands who have died and have been injured in the two wars that began when I was in high school.

They are not anonymous to me. I think about the loss of limbs, eyes, and innocence that are the price of armed conflict. I remember phone calls, emails, and text messages about deaths and injuries. I think about new dads meeting their newborn babies over Skype.

I have spent a lot of time writing about my life as a military spouse, and I have shared some of that here on Matador. Matador over the years has published powerful pieces about and by service members and veterans because, as young people, adventurers, athletes, travelers, and thinkers, they embody a lot of what Matador stands for.

This year on Memorial Day weekend, set aside some reading time:

1. In Rob Chursinoff’s War and peace on a Costa Rican beach, he meets a Marine who is willing to answer all of his questions about fighting in Iraq.

2. Notes on temperatures in a warzone details Jake Reed’s experience in Afghanistan and Qatar. He remembers everything through its temperature:

The operating temperature of the human body. The temperature of the blood that flows through your veins. The temperature of the blood that pours from shrapnel wounds and seeps along the floor of the Heath Craige Joint Theater Hospital in Bagram.

3. My mother-in-law likes to say, “Join the Navy, your parents will see the world,” because she has traveled all over to visit my husband and I and my brother-in-law, who is also active duty. In Join the Navy see the world, Theodore Scott lays out how joining the Navy is still a ticket to travel: “My first deployment was a slow trip around the Pacific Ocean, stopping at major port cities along the way.”

4. Full disclosure: I wrote these next two. Notes on having a husband deployed in Afghanistan is about my greatest fear, losing my husband while he is deployed, and…

5. How to be a military wife is my step-by-step instruction manual on how to be the best Navy wife you can be. Remember to have a few canned responses when people ask you how you handle spending so much time without your husband, like, “I’m really looking forward to eating Doritos for dinner three nights a week.”

6. Elizabeth Welsh grew up as a military brat and describes this “mobile lifestyle” in Thoughts from a homeless military brat. As someone who has moved all over the world, she writes that she has now “abandoned trying to define ‘home’ as an address.”

7. Most military bases have some type of gym to stay physically active, but in 10 ways to keep active while deployed with the US military, Richard Alexander gives tips on getting the most out of your time while stationed overseas.

8. 24 hours in Afghanistan’s violent Helmand province is a 2-part video in which journalist Ben Anderson explains footage from 24 hours in Helmand in 2007.

A QUICK SHOT of boat life from our friends at The Yacht Week.

For more on Greece, check out these Matador titles:

• What not to do in Santorini, Greece
• Visit a distillery on a rainy day in Greece
• Greek guard faces tear gas “like a boss”

Photos: Author

It was a shadowless day in the Galápagos — overcast skies rendered the water grey and opaque, even in the shallow inlet where our boat rested. The ocean current carried us east at a walking pace towards open water. Beyond that, there was the Pacific, and at its dark threshold was the spot we were given to snorkel. This was not a postcard-friendly cove.

Twice in my life I’ve nearly drowned, or thought I would: the first when I was six, at a friend’s pool party for his birthday. The second time was off the coast of Italy, 16 years later and the day after my own birthday. A freak set of waves pushed me down hard against the seafloor in a succession of unrelenting breakers. When I finally made it to safety, deep cuts and dry heaves were my evidence of baptism — I’d been born again, but at the cost of a tremendous, irrational fear of the ocean.

These days, my heart splashes into my stomach every time I go surfing — usually when I first catch sight of the incoming set on the horizon. Surging whitewater paralyzes me, stifles my breath, and quickens my pulse. Death has more presence for me sitting on a surfboard than it does passing a traffic accident or watching the latest in breaking news. But still I surf because of its inherent balance, because that one wave is always worth it. Out here in the Galápagos, though, there wasn’t much to surf on, and I was unsure about the payoff snorkeling could offer.

The median age in our tour group that day was 65, and everyone seemed enthusiastic about their last chance to snorkel before returning to Quito. I considered sitting out, feeling the all-too-familiar weak knees and nausea I always get before paddling out. My pride bucked up, defiant to be out-adventured by a group of retirees, but the rough water and current brought back visions of the ocean I thought I’d long overcome. My heart rate, which rests at a healthy 54, spiked with each memory.

Images of waves breaking on my head played, paused, and rewound again. I pushed 70.

Rag-doll. Spinning compass. 80.

Lost horizon. Which way is up? 90.

Air. When? 100.

A breath, a hand, a lifeline — there is no salvation in the ocean.

The rumor of penguins hijacked the crew’s excitement. One of the older ladies hurriedly donned her two-sizes-too-big wetsuit, her giddiness spilling out of her in rapid-fire monosyllables and flustered attempts to ready her camera. I hid my nervousness in routine, donning my own wetsuit and triple-checking the settings on my own camera. The water was plenty warm enough to swim without insulation, but I needed all the sense of security I could get, and a layer of neoprene seemed to do the trick.

Water filled my mask as soon as I slipped into the water. I choked and gagged and stalled, but the group was already off, paddling into the inlet and towards the bubbling coastline, leaving me as the only pair of dangling legs in the dark water. Swells lapped up to and past me, teasing me the way older siblings do just before they throw down. I wanted to catch up to the group, and every second I spent dawdling was another second alone.

Two quick tugs to the strap brought in the slack, and I re-fit my mask in a flurry.

For me, breathing is the hardest part about snorkeling. Syncing my erratic rhythm with my body’s own oxygen needs while facedown in the ocean always takes some getting used to. Otherwise, it’s a pretty simple activity — there’s a reason it’s great for tour operators in charge of a variety of age groups. For some, however, snorkeling can be daunting, and difficulty breathing compounds all other anxieties.

But there’s something special about it, too, dark water or not. I may have been the most paranoid swimmer to grace these waters, but watching sea life on a coral shelf unfolded the antidote to my fear — entire schools of colorful surgeonfish and Moorish idols wrapped us in a band of collective cognizance. Sea anemones rolled with the current, their movements restricted to the cycles of waves. And just ahead, at the spot on the ocean floor where the group was approaching: a sea lion pup, bearing down on us. Its movement betrayed its intentions; it looked ready to play. I teased it for some time, mirroring its movements and occasionally lunging towards it before kicking away quickly. We looped around each other like we were playing tag, but neither one was “it.”

An excited scream erupted from the surface of the water: Shark! The alarm sounded throughout the group; the aware tugged at the arms and fins of those still swimming. Some stayed put, wondering what to do. Others swam faster in the direction they had already been going. I whipped around in one quick motion, the way a surfer does when he sees the wave he’s about to claim. Our guide’s face was smushed behind his mask, but through it his eyes were electric, and he pointed to the seafloor, where the shark had just crossed our path.

I checked my mask once more, to make sure it wasn’t leaking again. Now was not the time for equipment failure.

I was aware of my heartbeat:

Deep breath. 90.
Dive. Down to the shark. 80.
Give chase. Across the sea shelf. 70.

Photo: Courtesy of Photo: Trekking the Planet

SANDY AND DARREN VAN SOYE began their campaign to improve geo-literacy years ago, when they took their daughters abroad to Europe. Now, they reach thousands of students in dozens of countries with their educational program, Trekking the Planet. They circled the planet three times in a little over a year, teaching grade-school children geography lessons that go beyond the standard paradigm of memorizing states and capitals.

When I was 17, I studied abroad in Riga, Latvia. During our talk, Darren and Sandy mentioned that they loved the architecture and vast forests of the small Baltic country. I had to admit to them that I had been ignorant of Latvia’s existence until I went there, and could have benefited from Trekking the Planet when I was in school.

VJ: Why is it important for kids to care about geography?

DVS/SVS: The modern subject of geography goes well beyond the study of maps and the rote learning of the names of capitals. It encompasses Human Geography (History, Population, Ethnic Groups, Language, Customs, Migrations) and Physical Geography (Topography, Rivers, Oceans, Seas, Climate, Animals, Ecosystems, Sustainability). In today’s interconnected world, the study of geography is more important than ever.

Sadly, studies show that American knowledge of geography is one of the worst in the world. In one study, US young adults finished eighth out of nine countries; in another, nearly a third could not locate the Pacific Ocean on a map. How will the “next generation” be successful as heads of business, scientists, and political leaders without at least a cursory understanding of that which unites us and also that which divides? Trekking the Planet seeks to help students increase the scope of their worldview in a fun and challenging way.

The ongoing purpose of Trekking the Planet is to bring geography to life. 850 classrooms from 20 countries, representing over 50,000 students, followed us over the internet as we traveled to 53 countries on 6 continents. During our 14-month expedition, we traveled a total of 77,354 miles, or more than 3 times around the planet at the equator. Along the way, we introduced students to the people, food, music, and animals of many of the remote places we visited.

Was there ever an issue trying to enter a politically sensitive area?

Before we left Kathmandu, Nepal, to go trekking in the Mustang region, we took our passports to be processed for our group visa of two to Tibet. This part of China can only be visited with such a visa, and only accompanied by a government guide. However, we were told that the Chinese government had just changed the rules for the group visa so that the minimum group had to be five persons of the same nationality. Given this news, we were concerned whether or not we would be able to take our planned Tibetan tour.

After we returned from trekking two weeks later, there was still no word about our visa. We began to consider our backup plan for our onward travel into Central China and Kyrgyzstan, in case we could not go through Tibet. Finally, at 6pm the night before we were scheduled to leave, we received a call saying our visa had been approved. It was submitted with five US names and then the Chinese were told that three of them had become “sick” and could not go. By some miracle, our remaining two names were approved so we had our group visa to visit!

Tell us about a place you visited that exhibited a positive trend in sustainability.

While we were in Copenhagen, Denmark, we had the opportunity to interview the government official in charge of expanding their bicycle superhighway. More than 50% of the citizens living there ride bikes to work or school. And they have goals to increase these figures.

The city planners have done several things to prioritize bicycle ridership over the use of cars. In some situations, they have converted lanes over to bicycle use. Riding from the outskirts of Copenhagen, the traffic lights have been timed so that riders can maintain a speed of about 12mph all the way into the city center. What we liked so much about the bicycle superhighway is that it reduces cost, improves transit times, and supports an active lifestyle.

Was every destination on your trip planned? Did you ever improvise your route or discover a new place thanks to a local?

Because of our pace (nearly a country a week) and because we published education materials on the go, we had to have a pretty tight itinerary. Before we left home, we had all 60 educational modules drafted and the first 11 months of our trip fully booked, including all our hotels, guides, and most of our transportation. Needless to say, this was a huge effort that required months of preparation.

We created a theme (trekking) and framework for the journey (which continents and when), then broke it down into smaller and smaller tasks until each one could be accomplished in a couple of hours. Once we had the day-by-day itinerary, we were free to start on the education materials.

In parallel, we booked our shipboard transportation, guides, hotels, flights, trains, buses, and ferries. We basically booked everything we could before we left so we could spend most of the time on the trip sightseeing, writing articles, producing videos, and answering questions. And by using local guides in many places (e.g., Laos, Tibet, Kyrgyzstan, Ethiopia, Jordan), we were able to go off the beaten path to locations that tourists rarely see.

You were communicating with classrooms via the internet, mainly with videos, emails, and photos. Any thoughts on ways to reach classrooms / communities with limited or no internet access?

We did visit 16 schools in 8 countries during our journey. In most cases they didn’t have internet access. So we used an inflatable globe, which we purchased on Amazon.com for US$2, to talk to these students about geography, learn more about their studies and activities, and answer questions about the United States.

Do you believe it’s as important to promote second-language acquisition as geo-literacy?

Absolutely. We met people that spoke 6 or 7 languages. I was so jealous. I (Sandy) know a little bit of German, and we both know some Spanish. Especially in South America, we needed the Spanish. I think it’s absolutely critical that people learn another language, although on the other hand English is becoming so much more prevalent everywhere…we tried to learn words in every country we went to.

How would you rate the success of your Trekking the Planet adventure?

Before we left, our goal was to have 100 classrooms following our journey. In fact, this was a stretch goal because at the time we only had a handful of subscriptions. But by the time we left on our expedition at the end of January 2012, we had over 50,000 students in 850 classrooms / schools following our journey!

Another way to measure the success of the project was to quantify the number of questions we received. At the end of every week’s education module that we sent to educators, we challenged readers to send us their questions. Some weeks, we received so many questions that we had trouble getting the newsletter out.

What type of encouragement or advice would you give to somebody who is intimidated or fearful of traveling abroad?

If you’re interested in traveling aboard, our best advice is to get as much information as you can on the places you plan to visit. Talk or email with other travelers who have visited that area. The more you learn about a place and how to cope with any dangers, the less intimidating it will be.

Any other adventures planned for the future?

We are currently on the speaking circuit, making presentations at schools and civic organizations. Sandy has started to write a book about our experiences. And Darren is working on a documentary, Half a Lifetime, based on the 70 video shorts that were published on YouTube during the trip (see the teaser below).

Who knows, there might even be a Trekking the Planet 2 in the future!

Flemming Rothaus Lauritsen started playing drums at age 7, inspired by his father’s jazz band; he had his first performance with his dad when he was 9. With a foundation in swing, jazz, and big-band, he moved to New York City in 1993 to redefine his style and sound. Since then, he’s experimented with world jazz, hip hop, blues, roots, and reggae, and is a tough musician to pigeonhole. He’s played with Bell Cafe, Ayo, and Gari, among others.

Flemming goes by Slim or, more recently, Ming: “In New York, when I was younger, broke and skinny, I would pass by this homeless guy on my block. He’d always call me Slim and ask for a dollar. My bass player picked up on the name and it stuck. Then, traveling in Asia, people couldn’t pronounce Flemming. They always said Ming. That’s how I got that one. My many names are a mess!”

I met Slim last year in Bangkok. During my travels in Asia this year, looking for stories to document through photojournalism, I ended up near his corner of China. I remembered he used to play in Dali, at a place called Bad Monkey, an English bar that draws some seriously crazy bands. I asked for Ming and they told me I could find him in Shuhe, four hours from Dali. What started as a social visit morphed into a project of its own when I saw all he’d been getting up to.

But how did a Danish-born, NYC-trained professional musician end up in Yunnan, southern China?

“Some time ago I was traveling around in Yunnan, and I saw this beautiful coffee place in Shuhe. Inside was this girl cutting flowers. We talked, we had coffee, and I told her something like, ‘Any place that has a piano is my home.’ A month later, I got an email from her saying: ‘I got a piano, now you have a new home.’”

With a baby on the way, Slim and his girlfriend, Jojo, have opened a jazz cafe and guesthouse called Caffeine. It’s got a serious musical atmosphere, often featuring Slim messing around on the piano, or guest musicians jamming on upright bass, Indian tabla, and whatever else is around, while people come in, drink coffee, and hang out.

The photos below were taken over the last few weeks.

1

Distillation

On Slim's mantle are a cymbal and a Chinese vase, an interesting material distillation of his life.

2

Simplicity

Getting ready to play, Slim practices simple rhythms on the drums while teaching locals how to play different songs: "Simplicity is the key element for all great music. To get that simple takes work -- I'm playing with new styles, and this place gives me the time and space to be creative like that."

3

The rhythm

A Kazakh band asked Slim to play flamenco with them. Indian tablas were a good choice to get into that rhythm.

Intermission

25 essential jazz albums for your collection

Mustang, the ‘Lost Kingdom of Tibet’ [pics]

Lena Horne was an inspiration and still is

4

On jazz

On some nights, Slim crosses town to join a Gypsy flamenco reggae band. "I love classical reggae. I'm inspired by Carlton Barrett, and I try to transmit to these guys the basics of that type of music; I work to get a clean, beautiful, perfect melodic rhythm. But my heart is with jazz. I can understand some people don't like rock, hip hop, or reggae, but jazz? You can’t dislike it! I want to open that door in China, so people can get familiar with great jazz."

5

Reggae beat

You can spend hours talking music with Slim. In a small room along with five local musicians, he starts playing reggae while everybody claps the beat.

6

Nothing else

On songwriting: "I find this place very inspiring. It's just me and the music, nothing else."

7

Giving space

The local Gypsy flamenco reggae band and Slim perform in a local bar: "I don't like to play too loud -- I want to give space so everybody can be heard."

8

Chopin

Slim plays Chopin on the piano at his place. The notes can be heard from outside, and many stop in for a moment, curious, to listen to the classical music.

9

Slim and Beat

Slim and his new cat, Beat, take a moment to relax in the bar and listen to music.

10

Coffee -> wine

Afternoons often turn into jazz sessions at Caffeine, as you switch from coffee to wine. The place is like a mix of New York and Old China. The deep and down melodies hit the audience, and with the last bom the song ends.

Photo: john.duffell

We sat on a log doubling as a bench in a friend’s garden in Emerald Hill, Harare. I exuded the detectably false confidence of any underage drinker: that suspicious overeagerness to be cool that manifests itself as an awkward silence flecked with blurts of mistimed, unfunny interjections. In the rest of the circle were the silhouettes of my seniors, backlit by the dying orange floodlights of a tennis court.

Chibuku traditionally comes in a small barrel the size of a newborn baby, and it was being passed around like the arch-nemesis of a talking stone. Dragging its consumers down into an abyss of nonsensical dialogue.

When it got to me, I wrapped my hands around the plastic surface and customarily shook it, hearing the thud of the thick, chunky liquid hit the sides of the container like a cement mixer. I unscrewed the blue cap and put the uncomfortably large hole to my lips. The first time Chibuku hits your tongue and palette and sinks roughly down your throat, it can give you a kind of déjà vu of puking in rewind.

That said, I enjoyed my first experience with Chibuku. It may not appeal to most, but I’ve always liked a sour taste so that didn’t bother me. I’m not too keen on the porridge-like texture of the drink, though, and I wasn’t sure if I should chew the bits stuck between my teeth or wipe them on my sleeve.

Chibuku is Southern Africa’s equivalent to cheap cider in the UK, or Spanish sangria concocted by mad street scientists with cheap wine and knock-off Sprite. Produced en masse by breweries throughout the region, its roots are in village-prepared homebrews consisting of maize, water, sorghum, yeast, and enzymes. After adding yeast to the gruel-like maize concoction, the brew is left to sit and ferment (the longer the better, or more potent). The sorghum adds a grainy scent, and the vinegary aroma is immediately detectable in the fermented blend.

Holding a Chibuku and preparing to accommodate an opaque mouthful of it has an element of playing lucky dip…or Russian roulette. I remember staring down into the pitch-black barrel, unable to make out the contents and bracing myself for the taste of gone-off milk and oatmeal. There’s also the underlying fear of coming across something more untoward than a lump of corn. Zimbabwe has a fully functioning rumour mill, and tales of what undesirable things could be found at the bottom of your Chibuku are always readily available from your drinking buddies.

It’s affectionately known as “Scud,” named after the missiles developed in the Soviet Union, because of the brand’s ability to obliterate the patrons of any bottle store. Chibuku has been a household name in the region (Malawi, Zambia, Botswana, and Zimbabwe) for quite some time and is associated with being the everyman drink: cheap, well-liked, and safe. I say this because the local boozer has had to be careful about what they choose to consume. Two drinks in particular have built up infamous reputations in Zimbabwe. These are Kachasu (more prevalent in the ’90s) and more recently, with a ring of finality to it, the ominously named Zed. On the lighter side, Zed has been known to woo its fans into roaming the Monday streets naked whilst, on the darker side, both drinks have, and continue to, claim the lives of too many people who get hooked on their cheap and extremely dangerous makeup.

Zed comes in illegally over the border from Mozambique and can be bought from your local dodgy black market dealer. It claims to contain 40% alcohol, but it’s widely believed that the true content hovers well above 60%. It’s a clear spirit that’s like a halfway house between vodka and petrol and has been given the names “Zimbabwe Emergency Drink” and “Zimbabwe Early Death.”

So, if Chibuku leaves a thick greasy film after the first sour gulp, I think it’s safe to say it’s earned its place as the tonic of the people. Now with its new flashy white carton it may even bring in a new breed of drinker who feared the hefty, mysterious barrel of old.

Photo: Angelo González

1. READ.

Start reading and don’t stop.

Read all the “greats,” but don’t skip the more obscure writers. Read magazines. Get yourself a library card if you don’t have one, and if you can’t do that, check Google Books and Google Magazines.

The idea isn’t to imitate, but to simply know what — what genres, what styles, what writers — came before you, as well as who your contemporaries are.

2. Redefine the genre of travel writing.

“Travel writing” includes hotel reviews and destination guides, published in guidebooks and in glossy travel magazines. But travel writing’s more than service pieces.

Check out this genre-busting, long-format narrative by Porter Fox. Or this blog post by multi-genre writer Elizabeth Eslami, which I’d categorize as “place-based writing.”

In a way, all movement and all settling is travel, and so the stories we tell about these experiences are “travel writing” in the broadest sense of the word. Even if some editors don’t see it that way.

3. Start a blog.

In the not-so-distant past, a writer had to have a decent portfolio of publication credits to be considered a “travel writer,” and certainly to be published in a glossy mag.

Not so anymore.

Thousands of writers have published their writing primarily or exclusively on their blogs. Some have gotten book deals. Some have gotten print gigs. Some get offers of free travel. And some get nothing more than the recognition that their writing means something to a random reader who stumbled across their blog doing a Google search.

Not sure how to get started? Check out Matador’s stockpile of blogging tips.

4. Develop your online presence.

Use Facebook, Twitter, and other social media platforms to connect with other writers, editors, and readers.

5. Build a network, online and off.

Start your blog, set up a Facebook and Twitter account, but make sure you get offline, too. Stories and relationships don’t develop best through a screen. That only happens at ground level.

MatadorU hosts frequent workshops and events around the world.

6. Travel. But not just to “exotic” places.

You’ve got a 9-5′er. You’ve got kids. You’ve got debt. You’ve got no money. You’ve got an expired passport.

What you’ve got are excuses. A walk beyond your front door is travel. The only thing you need for a trip is curiosity.

7. Look for stories everywhere.

Often, the most interesting stories aren’t waiting in some far-flung place for you to come along and unearth them. Instead, they’re right beside you, at ground level.

8. Avoid cliches.

If you’re not sure what cliches we’re talking about, you need to go back to step 1 (READ). You can also consult our articles, 10 words and phrases we never want to see in travel writing again and 5 more words we never want to see in travel writing again.

How many hidden gems and best kept secrets can there be in the world, anyway?

9. Learn when to break the writing rules you’ve been taught.

One of the challenges new travel writers often confront is unlearning rules of narrative they were taught in school: “Always write in the third person.” “Every paragraph must have three to five sentences.” “Every story must have an introductory paragraph, three body paragraphs, and a concluding paragraph.”

It’s not narrative that’s inflexible; it’s the writer. Don’t be afraid to play with forms or break rules.

10. Commit to the craft.

Tip #9 notwithstanding, there are some rules that shouldn’t be broken. Spelling and punctuation should be solid if you intend to submit your writing for publication, whether online or in print. Your syntax and word usage should be on point. Commit to the craft of writing. Simply telling a good story isn’t enough.

11. Get a writing partner.

Writing has some pretty solitary moments, and reviewing your work with a writing partner (especially if you have problems with spelling, grammar, etc.) can be invaluable. Participating in a writers’ group can be even more useful; you’ll have a support network of writers who can offer constructive feedback.

12. Prepare yourself for rejection.

Every writer experiences rejection. The sooner you learn how to handle it and move on, the happier and more successful you’ll be as a writer.

13. Be professional.

Learn how to pitch and query. Don’t make your problems an editor’s problems.

14. Invest in yourself.

If you want to pursue travel writing as a profession, consider making some investments in your professional development. The travel writing, travel photography, and travel filmmaking programs of MatadorU teach you the craft and business of this line of work.

15. Develop other relevant skills.

Assignments often go to writers who also have other relevant skills, especially in photography. If you can offer an editor a complete package of writing and photos, you’ll save him/her lots of time.

16. Use prompts if you have writers’ block.

MatadorU’s Dean of Education, Joshua Johnson, rounded up three websites that are full of prompts to get your pen moving again.

17. Don’t tell the reader how to feel or what to think.

Way too much travel writing is characterized by the author/narrator telling the reader how to feel or what to think. The ways in which we experience “the exotic” and treat it as precious and the ways, in particular, we see people, dramatically shape the ways we talk about them and the impressions our interpretations leave on the reader.

18. But don’t think you’re objective, either.

There’s no such thing as objectivity.

19. Practice “10 Possibilities.”

In order to test your own ways of seeing and your default interpretations, start practicing a game a friend of mine calls “10 Possibilities.” For every experience you’re inclined to classify as “strange,” “exotic,” “amazing,” or otherwise otherworldly, challenge yourself to come up with 10 possibilities that could explain why you’re seeing what you’re seeing.

20. Write.

It’s obvious enough, I suppose, but what distinguishes an “aspiring writer” from a “writer” is that the latter actually…writes. At Matador, we’ve taken to calling this “ass-to-chair” time.

21. Learn how to use an anecdote.

So much beginning travel writing is what I call “This is what I did on my summer vacation” essays: chronologically linear stories that detail every single activity, meal, and person the writer has encountered in his or her travels. 98% of that material isn’t relevant.

Learn how to use anecdotes and scenes in your storytelling.

22. Accept the fact that luck, timing, circumstance, and knowing people often play a big role in a writer’s life.

Don’t underestimate the ‘right place, right time’ scenario. While you might not have much control over that, you do have control over being ready, willing, and able to take advantage of any opportunities that come your way.
- Matador Managing Editor Carlo Alcos

In my own work, and among many of my freelance travel writing colleagues, luck, timing, circumstance, and knowing people have played as important a role as being a good writer.

* Learn more about how to become a travel writer — check out the MatadorU Travel Writing course.