I confess: I’m a travel snob. I turn my nose up at the words “package,” “tour,” and “all-inclusive.” And I believe that going to a new place just to lounge in a beach chair with a slushy drink in hand is for the lazy.

My husband Stuart . . . → Read More: Confessions of a Travel Snob]]> Speaker’s Corner: Amy Williams Bernstein considered herself an intrepid, independent traveler. Then she found herself at an all-inclusive Cancun resort.

Photo by adpowers, via Flickr (Creative Commons)

I confess: I’m a travel snob. I turn my nose up at the words “package,” “tour,” and “all-inclusive.” And I believe that going to a new place just to lounge in a beach chair with a slushy drink in hand is for the lazy.

My husband Stuart subscribes to my way of thinking. He’s perfectly happy exploring foreign streets unguided, looking for unique experiences and adventures. Together we’ve helped save a beached whale in the Galapagos Islands, biked into the Amazon basin with a Dutch couple we met at an Ecuadorian B&B, and crawled into a claustrophobia-inducing Maui lava tube. I return home brandishing these stories to prove our traveler status.

So when my mother suggested an all-inclusive Cancun resort for a family get-together, I scoffed. No good travel story comes from staying within protective walls. But Stuart talked me down. “Just think of it as a time to be with family,” he said with infuriating reasonableness.

Stuart and I met my parents, brother, sister-in-law, and two young nephews in the open-air, thatched lobby of the Iberostar Tucán resort. As Stuart and I towed our suitcases along the paved path to our room, an animal scurried in front of us. The cat-sized, tailless creature had the body and face of a mouse, but it walked on stilt-like legs. Curiosity got the better of us. We abandoned our bags and followed the creature toward the bushes, where it was sitting like a squirrel munching on a berry. What was this strange cat/mouse/squirrel? We weren’t even rid of our luggage and already we were staring at a creature as confounding as a platypus.

Now I was intrigued. We ditched our bags in the room and headed out to explore the grounds. At the end of a path, tucked into jungle vegetation, flamingos and roseate spoonbills surrounded a man-made lagoon. This idyllic scene was only steps from our room, but I refused to be charmed. The non-native birds only proved that the wildlife was staged for the benefit of tourists, I told myself.

That night we were all together at dinner. Stuart asked Francisco, our server, about the strange animal we had seen that afternoon. That’s a cereque, a native rodent, he told us, and local descendants of the Maya still eat them. Enjoying our shock, he kept going. “Very tasty,” he said with a big grin, and launched into a list of ways to prepare cereque, the best of which he assured us, is a la plancha

Okay, so maybe we had managed to stumble onto some local culture inside the resort. But real travelers like us would not be content to stay within resort grounds. When my brother mentioned a jungle trail he had noticed from the beach, I decided I would lead the family on an adventure.

The next day, all eight of us hiked down the beach and picked up the trail running parallel to the surf through the jungle. Guest Services had provided a list of animals that might be found in and around the resort. I was especially interested in finding a tepezcuintle, another native rodent that Francisco had (mistakenly, it turns out) described as a marsupial. An hour into our sweaty trek, we had seen nothing more interesting than jungle foliage and bright green grasshoppers as long as my palm. Then something rustled a few feet off the trail, and my father called to the rest of us to catch up. There in the trees, he said, he saw something with a pointy nose and a long ringed tail. But the presumed tepezcuintle had climbed out of view into the tree canopy before I arrived.

I wouldn’t give up on adventure so easily. I went back to the women at the desk and pestered them with questions about the animals on their list and where I might find them. But the two friendly multilingual staff members were non-native themselves and didn’t know. I persevered. They must have somebody on staff to take care of the captive animals. Could I talk to them? The animal caretaker wasn’t available, they said.

I felt desperate to find some unique experience. A free SCUBA lesson in the deep end of the pool, fun as it was, didn’t count. I needed to leave with a story to prove I was better than the average slouch who frequents an all-inclusive.

Could I go into the kitchen and meet the chef, I asked. Could I get a glimpse behind the scenes at how the hotel is run? Would someone give me a lesson in folding towels into animal shapes? They politely turned down each of my requests.

With my hopes of adventure dashed, I settled into a rhythm for the rest of our vacation: lengthy swims around the pool each morning, playing in the glassy waves with my nephews in the afternoons, and, the best part, endless helpings at the surprisingly good buffet, which included common local foods, like grilled strips of nopal cactus and fried chayote, a native green gourd.

On our last day, as Stuart and I walked to the lobby to check out, a brown creature with a pointy nose and ringed tail ambled into the path in front of us. It took its time crossing, giving us a long look before it disappeared into the trees. When I looked it up on the Guest Services list, I found out this was not a tepezcuintle, but a coati—a cousin of the raccoon.

That’s when I realized that our most memorable moments had occurred when I let my ideals rest and we did exactly what you’re supposed to do at an all-inclusive resort: relax and indulge. Treating ourselves to poolside soft-serve ice cream, laying claim to the shadiest beach chairs, and indulging in afternoon naps didn’t prove our traveling chops. Instead of leaving with a story, I left with fond memories of family time, a good tan, and a renewed sense of well-being. And that makes me the worst kind of travel snob—one who secretly enjoys a little culturally-empty luxury.

The situation: You’ve landed in Tokyo for business and quickly discover that the deal you had planned to seal is far from complete. You can’t go home empty-handed, so you need to charm your Japanese counterparts into an agreement. The answer is at the bottom of your glass.

The backstory: Sake . . . → Read More: A night out with Japanese Salarymen]]> How To: Amy McKeever explains how to navigate an epic night of beer, yakitori and “nomunication”

Photo by MJTR via Flickr (Creative Commons)

The situation: You’ve landed in Tokyo for business and quickly discover that the deal you had planned to seal is far from complete. You can’t go home empty-handed, so you need to charm your Japanese counterparts into an agreement. The answer is at the bottom of your glass.

The backstory: Sake culture is part of Japan’s national identity, as much as samurai warriors, cherry blossoms and futuristic gizmos. Drinking with coworkers and clients is often part of the job in a Japanese company, and most employees spend many weeknights downtown doing just that. Though this usually means their families eat dinner without them, salarymen’s behavior is accepted in Japanese culture.

Verbal communication presents significant challenges for an introverted culture, so many Japanese use drinking to forge connections—as captured by the phrase “nomunication,” stemming from the Japanese verb nomu (“to drink”). A bit of social lubricant goes a long way to building confidences. Japanese journalists are expected to woo their sources over drinks, knowing that no worthy scoop is ever won during the daytime. Same goes for business, where important deals are made over private dinners.

The etiquette: If your boss or business counterpart invites you out for a drink, accept with gusto. A declined invitation from an employee is often considered an insult. So, out of respect for his or her authority, join your business partner for a beer.

Upon arrival, look for cues on where to sit. The Japanese love pampering guests and often will insist on their VIPs taking the best seat, which is usually the one closest to a wall.

It’s also considered polite to pour for your neighbor in Japan. So if the person sitting next to you orders a beer, be sure to grab the bottle and pour the brew into his or her frosted glass.

You may not always want to take your boss up on a night out after work, but here’s some incentive: The last rule of Japanese business drinking etiquette is that your superior or the party courting you always pays. Enjoy!

Why you shouldn’t order: Blend in with your Japanese counterparts by allowing your host to order for you. Beer is the Japanese salaryman’s drink of choice. Kirin, Sapporo and Asahi are some of the top brands that you’ll find on any bar menu. Another option is a tokkuri of sake or glass of shochu, a distilled grain alcohol that can either be taken straight or diluted with water. Your host will often make this crucial decision for the entire table. If your negotiations have reached the point where you can call your counterpart your friend, then you may request a specialty drink—though you should still allow him or her to order it for you.

Where to go: The most common type of watering hole in Japan is an izakaya. Traditionally, an izakaya serves Japanese staples like yakitori, sashimi and oden, although these days some of them have Western food, too. Most of these bars are known for their affordability, particularly chain izakaya restaurants that cater to large groups. Izakaya are easily found throughout Tokyo, especially near subway stations. Some of the best-known izakaya districts are Shinbashi, Kagurazaka, Akasaka and Asakusa.

In a hostess club, business partners sip whiskey. Rather than providing roving waitresses, hostess clubs employ women to sit across from patrons, refilling drinks. These women are expected to tune out any business-related conversations, but when the topics turn casual the hostesses cheerfully chat up their clients. Hostess clubs are pricey, often found in Tokyo’s fashionable Ginza neighborhood.

For the late-night crowd, a yatai offers the opportunity to eat and drink well into the night. These open-air stalls often serve just one type of food such as ramen or yakitori, while some offer a full menu to customers who sit on stools or milk crates. These places are cheap and in Tokyo they’re typically clustered around the offices of major newspapers whose employees work late nights. During festival seasons, shrines also host several yatai.

When you’re ready to call it quits for the night, check into one of Tokyo’s convenient capsule hotels. Weeknights find these cheap, coffin-sized hotel rooms packed with businessmen who’ve imbibed too much to go home. If you decide to stumble back to your own hotel, though, keep in mind that Tokyo’s trains can be as crowded at midnight as at rush hour when they shuttle sleeping salarymen home to the suburbs.

Wherever you end up, be sure to really nomunicate with your drinking buddies even after you’ve struck your deal. A night out with Japanese salarymen is a long one, sure, but these late-night revelries are a key part to forming business relationships. Your deal may have been won in five glasses of sake, but you never know what that sixth cup of sake might do to ease any future negotiations.

The trek starts from . . . → Read More: Annapurna’s Holy Lakes & Glaciers]]> This is an exciting and demanding trek high into the heart of the mighty Annapurna region, exploring some of the wild glacial areas below Annapurna South where few trekkers have gone before. The trek is one of great contrast, encompassing all the features of the area from the terraced village lowlands, through the forests and agricultural areas of the middle hill country, to the glacial basins of the Annapurna mountains.

The trek starts from the sub-tropical Pokhara Valley and passes through paddy fields before gradually ascending through terraced hillsides of wheat and barley. At each of the villages along the way we are warmly received by the local Gurung and Magar people. The walking is sensibly paced so we have ample opportunity to experience and absorb local lifestyles that have changed little over centuries. From the start we enjoy ever-changing views of the stunning, snow-covered Annapurna mountains. Halfway through the trek we leave habitation behind and walk through rhododendron and oak forests, alive with exotic birds and beautiful flowers, to finally emerge above the tree line at Kopra Danda. Here we experience the stunning wilderness scenery beneath the towering peaks of Annapurna; to the west lies Dhaulagiri and far below lies the Kali Gandaki River Valley, which is the world’s deepest. As we climb higher above the tree line we enter a fantastic mountain wilderness visited only by local shepherds during the monsoon months. The truly spectacular vista is dominated by Annapurna I (8091m) and Dhaulagiri (8167m), the highest peaks in the region. However this unique trek concentrates on the unexplored wilderness around Annapurna South (7237m), a remote and magnificent area that is rarely visited. An exploration of the rugged area below Annapurna South is sure to be the highlight of our journey. This is an adventure for those truly looking for something exciting. 

For more info visit http://www.peregrineadventures.com

We’ve previously posted details from Serengeti Watch about the proposed highway through the north of the Serengeti and often retweet their updates on Twitter. Recently, the non-profit organisation has critisized the Tanzanian President’s statement that the construction of the road will go ahead but that it will be gravel and not a tarmac road. Serengeti Watch claim that the road surface was never the issue, that this is the President’s way . . . → Read More: Highway through the Serengeti]]> February 17, 2011

We’ve previously posted details from Serengeti Watch about the proposed highway through the north of the Serengeti and often retweet their updates on Twitter. Recently, the non-profit organisation has critisized the Tanzanian President’s statement that the construction of the road will go ahead but that it will be gravel and not a tarmac road. Serengeti Watch claim that the road surface was never the issue, that this is the President’s way of appearing to make concessions to those opposed to it and that they have stated from the beginning that even a gravel road will be detrimental. Follow the links to hear both sides of the story.

Wildebeeste in the SerengetiRead President Kikwete’s press release

Read the response of Serengeti Watch on Facebook

Find out more about Serengeti Watch.