It was a week before the late Thai King Bhumibol Adulyadej’s funeral when I arrived in Bangkok for a conference and I did not expect that my world would turn black for the next week.
The Lost Paradise Resort located on Penang’s coastal stretch of Batu Feringghi is a bit of an oddball character.
“You’re bullshitting me!” I shouted when a fellow-backpacker told me he had gone swimming with humpback whales in Tonga.
What kind of friends do I make when I travel solo?
Good ones. Real ones. Beautiful ones.
In a quiet, dusty alleyway in Coptic Cairo, a toddler, barely 3, cries mercilessly as he was forced to get a tattoo.
As the old adage goes, less is more. When it comes to traveling, more is unnecessary and less is your shoulders thanking you for not putting them through the gates of hell.
Egypt is an onion. My biggest takeaway from backpacking Egypt twice in 5 years is that Egypt is an onion.
“Can I take a photo with you?”
Her bright, young eyes, full of enthusiasm and wonder, looked into my jaded ones. I remember having eyes filled with sunshine like hers. Now they’re just tired and disenchanted; tired of travelling and disenchanted at the phlegm-spitting, queue-cutting, rude, and conflicting country that I am finally leaving.