I was sure that I was in the wrong place. It looked like a living room done up by Ian Schrager – gorgeous wooden floors and big ceilings filled with stark, modern edge (including a deer head sculpture made out of plastic). A mojito bar was set up in the corner and the DJ was spinning some ambient something-or-other. Everyone had the same what-the-hell-are-we-doing-here look that I had.

I was in a youth hostel. The Lisbon Lounge Hostel, to be precise.

They’re popping up everywhere. The rage right now seems to be converting old homes or hotels and turning them into eye-popping digs. Only a few bucks more than most hostels, it seems unbelievable that these places will ever recoup. Most of them sell out quick, but a dorm still doesn’t generate the kind of bread that a hotel does.

I spent a couple of nights this summer at Villa Saint Exupery in Nice. It’s a grand old monastery that’s been turned into one of the most-recognized hostels in the world, and with good reason. The place comes with a chef (six euro meals that you’d die for) and a massive common room, complete with a wall of stained glass. The Internet Chapel is stacked with eight computers and it’s easy to grab a beer afterhours because the vending machine is stocked with cold ones. I paid $25 USD for a bed and didn’t flinch upon checkout – it was worth the extra money.

Last year, The Times Online ran a piece on the 10 Best Boutique Hostels. They described Miss Shopie’s in Prague as “a stylish mixture of sharp-as-a-knife rooms, an on-site cellar bar of exposed brick and mood lighting, and a kitchen that would be more at home in a New York loft apartment.” Not exactly your average hostel review.

Another regularly mentioned hostel is Lub D, a place I stayed at in Bangkok this year. Again, the work that went into this building was just shocking. The beds were big and bouncy, the color scheme in the hotel was wildly inviting and, as is important in Bangkok, the air conditioning f’in rocked. A fellow traveler chastised me for paying $12 USD in a room of give buck guest houses. I imagined him on his creaky bed, sweating bedbugs out of the pores in his arms, as I sat I my bed working with perfect wi-fi and a cool beverage. I wasn’t crying.

This is not to say that all of these places don’t have a downside. Some of the ones that I’ve stayed in have struggled to find a vibe. Everything is so big or so stark that people tend to spread out and not congregate. Many beds were filled with non-backpackers who are on a quick vacation with tour-taking in mind, rather than swapping stories with fellow travelers. Lisbon Lounge, in particular, felt more like a hotel in this regard. I left after two days to find something more inviting, if you can imagine that.

I’ve lived in 4 countries. Due to the large amounts of time I’ve spent in each, I’ve explored their regions, learned 2 new languages, experienced their holidays, and eaten my weight in their traditional foods. Through this, I gained a heightened understanding of their culture.

If only it were practical to spend years in every place on our “must visit” lists. Short visits can be fabulous, but getting ushered into Disney-like tourist traps can be frustrating – leaving you wondering if you even saw the “real” Italy at all. My best tip for getting an authentic hit of local culture on your trip? Head to a grocery store.

You’ve heard it before – “eat as the locals do.” Why not make it a point to stroll through a market during your next overseas vacation? They’re plentiful and free to enter. A visit to one is like peeking through a window into everyday life.

What’s in a Brand Name?

My first cultural revelation during a trip to a grocery store came while visiting my grandparents in Italy in 1997. Browsing through the personal care aisle, I found the same Italian shampoo my mother always brought back to the USA every time she visited her family. It finally hit me: that pungent green Antica Erboristeria Shampoo all’Ortica was something my mother had used while growing up in Italy and was thus tied to her identity. Brand names can evoke strong cultural memories – what’s more American than a Thanksgiving Green Bean Casserole made with Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom Soup and Durkee’s French Fried Onions? When I tried to recreate this dish in Japan with powdered mushroom soup and fried garlic, it tasted nice but somehow wasn’t the same. On your grocery store trip, take note of those Meiji chocolate bars, Kerrygold butter pats, and McVities Digestive biscuits; you’re peeking at someone’s sense of “normal.”

Popularity Contest

Bread? Cake? Nothing like a walk through the market to tell you what the people want. In Japan, the cheese selection is relegated to a tiny cranny in the dairy aisle, but you can find nearly every part of the fish in the seafood department. In the US, the explosion of cereal brands need their own aisle but in Ireland, the comparatively few brands only require a few shelves.

Current Events

A visit to a market can tell you something about the country’s socio-political climate. Ireland has been hit hard by the global recession, so everywhere I go, I see signs like these:

Some supermarkets even go so far as to list the Irish products separately on the receipts, so customers can see how much money they contributed to the local economy.

Souvenirs

Inexpensive and easy to pack, snacks and cosmetics can make great souvenirs – far more unique than those elephant-printed Thai silk tablecloths sold at every kiosk on Khao San Road. After my trip to Paris, I hoarded a bottle of apricot-scented Dop bodywash I’d bought in a Carrefour. Apricot fragrance still reminds me of my cruise on the Seine.

The downside to hitting the grocery store for souvenirs – snacks and toiletries run out. But that’s just another excuse to return.

What’s the best thing you’ve ever seen in a grocery store abroad?

Peru is a travel destination for seekers.  One of the oldest cultures in the world, the Peruvians hold a deep understanding of human nature, and a trip to Peru can bring you closer to self understanding – that old back packers’ dream.

If hiking through ancient ruins doesn’t bring you to that special place, perhaps washing down ‘cuy’ (whole, fried guinea pig) with a glass of pisco will center you.

We’re proud to offer you the complete Footprint guide book for Peru, free and online. Check out the awesome travel info, and start planning your Peru trip. Have you see our trip planner?

* There is still time to add your photos and enter to win Photo of the Month – the competition ends November 20th. Your photo will go out in our next newsletter! Also, don’t forget to vote for the photos you like.

After a big breakfast of Wahoo omelette, hash browns and the normal unlimited supply of pineapple, watermelon and papaya, we set out for the breaking waves on the horizon – towards what is known as Cloud Break, on the northern side of Vanua Levu.

Bouncing along in the dinghy, squinting into the bright sun, I had high hopes and anxieties – surfing a reef break alongside the pros would at least be exhilarating to say the least. Hopefully reef rash wouldn’t take us out bleeding anyway.  I  crossed my fingers and secretly hoped for a small, left breaking wave.  Arriving it was small, alright.  As the pros jumped in to paddle out, I realized that I would have to wait for my turn on one of the only two 8 foot boards.

While waiting, I snorkeled through the bluest of crystal clear waters. The current was strong, but I just let myself drift along with it, a speck in the Fijian Sea.  I saw many different parrot fish amongst the hard corals, a small reef shark and pyres of coral pushing up from the bottom towards the sunlight.  I crossed a sandy highway, half expecting something giant to pass me by…

When it was my turn to jump in, the sets had all but completely dissipated. I was happy enough just paddling like mad at anything that passed me by.

We spent most of the day docked off the North shore of Vanua Levu searching for surf. Not being ballsy or skilled enough tor ide uncharted reef break with the “surfer, dudes,” some of us chose to snorkel around the edges of the Great Sea Reef.  We jumped from the dinghy into deep and somewhat murky waters.  Not 30 seconds in, Linga, or guide at the moment comes to the surface and yells, “SHARK!”  We were a bit freaked out, not realizing that he was yelling to just show us the shark – we’re half searching the murky bottom for a glimpse of the threat, and half just searching out of curiosity.  All this while slying swimming back towards the dinghy.  As we were climbing into the boat, Linga laughed kind of sheepishly saying “I only wanted to point him out to you - reef sharks don’t bite.”  That was only a bit reassuring as he went on to explain that it was a 5 foot long White Tip.  Harmless or not, it was an excuse to move to another snorkeling location.

Back on the Tui Tai, Linga told us the tale of Dakuwaga, the Fijian god of the sea. Dakuwaga was half man, half shark, and the Fijians believe that they are his descendants. Maybe this explains his reverence for the animal.

“Our forefathers believed in all kinds of old gods, and now we have the newest one, Jesus Christ.” I like the practicality of Linga’s statement. He’s just going along with the times.

NYC has a pretty impressive array of food events going on every week, most of which draw an equally impressive crowd of foodie nerds willing to wait in long lines for artisanal, homemade or sustainable this-and-that. A couple of weeks ago there was the Dumpling Festival, but this week was the long-anticipated Brooklyn Underground Chili Extravaganza. With rules like “chili comes in a pot, pot does not come in the chili,” and “vegetarian chili competes on an even field with carnivore chili,” it was understandably popular. Unfortunately, it was so popular that I didn’t even come close to trying any of the ten chili entries. Since I’m not so much into defeat, I ended up making my own damn chili the next day.

even the judges don't have any chili

Though stews comprised of meat, beans, chiles and herbs were popular in Aztec, Incan and Mayan cultures, chili as we know it today has evolved to be a distinctly American dish. Indeed, Mexico’s Diccionario de Mejicanismos, published in 1959, describes chili con carne as “detestable food passing itself off as Mexican, sold in the U.S. from Texas to New York.” First popularized by chuck wagon cooks accompanying cowboys, trail hands and adventurers in the mid-1800’s, chili was unglamorous trail food meant for long cattle drives around the Southwest or long journeys to California gold fields. Cooks would plant chilies, onions and herbs along trails, hidden in mesquite patches to protect them from foraging cattle. When wagons headed back on the same trail later, the ingredients would be ready for harvest – once added to dried beef and boiled in pots, voila! As settlements along the trail began mimicking the hearty stew prepared by the visiting chuck wagon cooks, chili grew in popularity. Outlaws like Jesse James and Billy the Kid were rumored to be huge fans – according to local legend, Jesse James vowed never to rob the bank in Fort Worth, Texas because “anyplace that has a chili joint like this just oughta’ be treated better.”

A few detractors claim that the Texas prison system originally invented chili, mincing cheap cuts of beef and combining it with gruel and chilies for an edible, cheap meal, while others claim that the “Chili Queens” of San Antonio sold the first bowls of chili from their street carts. In any case, Texas is the undisputed birthplace of chili and today, it’s one of their biggest legacies – pretty much any diner across the U.S. has chili on the menu. However, the majority of contemporary chili recipes feature beans and a few even forgo meat altogether in favor of tofu or potatoes – a slap in the face to Texan traditionalists who believe that meat is the one diva in a proper chili. In another blow to Texans everywhere, Texas isn’t even the only chili mecca in the U.S.; Cincinnati has emerged with a famous version that incorporates cinnamon, cloves and chocolate into a thinner stew more akin to spaghetti sauce, and in 1993, the Illinois State Legislature passed a resolution deeming Springfield, Illinois as the “Chilli [sic] Capital of the Civilized World.”

To satisfy my chili cravings, I turned to the Marlboro Chili Roundup, a cookbook I received in the mail years ago as part of a cigarette promotion. A free, glossy cookbook may not seem like the best source for chili know-how, but it is actually a compilation of reader (smoker?) recipes. I figured, if someone is gonna know chili, it’s gonna be the Marlboro Man. I chose the Little Havana chili, which seemed to incorporate the best of Cincinnati influences with a meat-to-beans ratio that I modified to be acceptable to most Texans. I’m not sure what Jesse James would say to my fusion chili, but it was definitely the spicy celebration of meat that I was looking for.

Little Havana Chili

(by Mike Richards, Tinley Park, IL via The Marlboro Chili Roundup)

1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 1/2 pounds ground pork
2 1/2 pounds ground beef
1 cup white onions, minced
2 tablespoons garlic, minced fine
3/4 cup ground chili powder
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons ground cumin
3 1/2 tablespoons cocoa powder
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon allspice
1 teaspoon ground cloves
2 teaspoons ground turmeric
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
2 cups brewed coffee
2 cups beef broth, canned
3 cups crushed tomato, canned
1 1/4 quarts tomato juice
3 cups cooked black beans
4 cups Havarti cheese, grated

Heat half the oil in a heavy stockpot and add ground pork and beef, cook until done, drain grease through colander and reserve meat. Return stockpot back to range and heat remaining oil again over moderate heat, add onions and garlic and cook until soft. Add all the ground spices and cook for approximately 5 minutes, stirring frequently, to bring out their flavor. Add reserved cooked ground meat, vinegar, coffee, beef broth, crushed tomato and tomato juice and simmer over low heat for approximately 45 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent scorching.

Add black beans and simmer for an additional 5 minutes. Serve immediately with grated Havarti cheese.

Yields 16 8-ounce portions

Last night was our first on the Tui Tai. It takes a while to get sea legs, and it has sure been a test, all of us are rolling around like I assume baby giraffes do, and the crew must love it.  I woke up at 4 am to see my deoderant and other toiletries comically sliding back and forth across the shelves in my cabin. Even as I type, they key board and my body are doing a sort of samba…

It’s amazing how fast humans can adjust – an hour on the boat yesterday and we were in full exploration mode. We snorkeled in Dolphin Bay while the sun was still out, the late in the afternoon we were already in a remote village testing the residents’ blood sugar levels…I’ll step back a bit.

I’m the lone East Coast American girl, here for four weeks to bring “the Zen” to the Tui Tai bunch. We have Dale, from Florida “the winner” he’s dubbed appropriately after winning a freaking free trip to Fiji. Who does that? (Did you enter the competition we were promoting, it wasn’t rigged, folks!) We all hand our Coca cola bottles to him because they’re giving away a free trip to Brazil.  There are the three “surfer, guys” from San Clemento, and of course sweet Bethany Hamilton, another surfer from Kauai.  The “doctors,” med students out of Oz and New Zealand are traveling with us to do a bit of humanitarian work, and there’s another Aussie who’s on the trip because his sister purchased this getaway for him.

Some of the best things are unexpected and usually unplanned.  Around dusk, we took the dinghy’s in to a small village on the island of Rabi (pronounced Rambi).  A small group of people moved to this beach about 6 years ago.  A group of men of Polynesian descent married women from the island who are Micronesian like the rest of the island, and decided to settle down on their own small plot of land.  I like these rules – if you can survive off the jungle and the sea, you earn your spot on the planet, as they have and continue to do.

The Tui Tai is one of the only charters to have access to such remote places. The staff being almost 100% Fijian gives us the knowledge and priviledge we would otherwise not have.

The residents are a family of only 10 people, incredibly inviting to our groups cameras, odd smiles and giggles. Bula (hello) and vinaka (thank you) are the only things flying from our mouths.  We all settled into one large hut to watch “the doctors” do their work. The attempted to read shotty equipment to test the villagers blood sugar levels and blood pressure. Everyone was relatively healthy, it mostly turned into a competition between husband and wife to see who had the most satisfactory numbers.

After crunching on some fresh coconut, it’s a short ride in the dinghy, under the star-filled Fijian sky back home.

The satisfaction and silliness of leaving New England in November…in flip flops.

I’m of to Savusavu, Fiji – Tom Robbins says something like everything on an island needs to be said twice – to join the Tui Tai crew for the month of November.

I’ve been out here for 15 of the past 24 months, this time on a year stretch.  The more people I talk to, the more I feel less like an idiot for having brought things I wouldn’t need.  I’m not the only one who has mailed a big package of stuff home after a few weeks.

Here are a few things that I could not live without:

1) Retractable Cable Lock These run about $10 and can really save you in hostels that don’t have security lockers.  I just lock my pack to the bed.  Also really handy if you need to sleep on dodgy transport – I even locked mine to my belt buckle once because I was sketched out by my busmates.

2) Tupperware A small Tupperware container is one of the things in my pack that I’ve used the most.  Yes, it’s good for leftovers.  Better though, I’ve used it to keep electronics from getting wet in monsoons and usually for transporting potentially leaky items (The Great Olive Oil Spill of 2009 was such an occasion).

3) Seasoning (No Kidding) If you’re traveling in hostels that have kitchens, invest a few bucks in spices that you crave.   Most days I can’t be assed to cook but when I do, I have at least some herbs, curry powder and garlic salt.  From there, I can whip up about ten things for under three bucks.  Transfer anything to plastic baggies, so that the glass container doesn’t weigh you down.  Light and tasty.

4) Extra Computer Battery This is a must for anyone who writes or has an online poker addiction.  It will save you some serious crying, especially when you’ve turned up at an island that only has electricity from 7pm-10pm (Shout Out To Laos!).

5) Headlamp Oh, I know. They do make you look like a luminescent cyclops. I fought it for a long time but I have to say that mine is ridiculously handy, whether it be for reading in bed or walking down a dirt path in a drunken stupor.

6) Battery Powered Electronics Charger There are a million different kinds nowadays.  Mine charges my phone, my Nintendo DS, my camera and my iPod.  It is a lifesaver again and again.

7) Packets Of… Get your hands on whatever you can that comes in little packets, rather than bottles.  Things like bug spray can be found in towellette form.  Kiehls is a killer place to stock up on free samples – although I still haven’t used that Soothing Gel Masque they gave me.  Remember: You only need some things sometimes.  Don’t go crazy carrying 8 ounces of bath oil for a bathtub you’ll never find.

8.) An Unlocked Cell Phone It’s a must if you are moving between many countries.  I’ve spent about $350 over the past ten months on my phone and I use it for everything, from email to internet.  I’d have spent triple that if I was still locked into my program from home.  Local SIM cards are now a reality almost everywhere I’ve been (except America).

9) Travel Sized Toilet Paper Rolls Oh, so embarrassing.  Today I took the bus from Lisbon to Porto.  Halfway through the trip that half-eaten donut went on the offensive.  I bolted from the bus to find a men’s room that looked like something out of Trainspotting, complete with the Sharpie’d phone numbers of men wishing to fornicate.  I considered crying, then reached for this little roll of stuff I had been carrying for a year.  I had almost thrown it away at least three times.  Fourth time’s a Charmin.

The 10th item here is YOURS. Tell us what you can’t live without!