Antarctica: The Final Frontier

HCC: The South Pole was on the top of my travel wish list, and I finally made it to the bottom of the world. There's been some debate about whether the tourism boom is good or bad for The Ice (just 6,750 people traveled to the South Pole in '92/'93, compared to about 40,000 this year, according to an article in the March issue of National Geographic Adventure). What if a cruise ship carrying tourists crashes and spills fuel into the ocean? What if tourists landing on The Ice accidentally step on the precious moss that takes decades to grow?

Still, some experts think tourism helps a lot more than harms—especially if done right. "So far Antarctica has been a good example of managed tourism, and I hope it becomes the model for doing the right thing," says Geoff Green, the founder of Students on Ice Expeditions, who has been leading educational adventures to the Poles for over fifteen years. "To minimize impact, more rules need to be established—such as not allowing ships with more than 200 passengers to disembark."

Moreover, a trip to The Ice creates a new generation of ambassadors for the Poles. "It's hard to protect a place until you understand it, and bringing people to Antarctica is a way to raise awareness—people fall in love with its pristine beauty,"says Green.

But you don't have to take a trip to the bottom of the world to impact Antarctica: Just look at last week's collapse of the Manhattan-sized ice shelf that scientists are linking with global warming. "Climate change and over-fishing are much bigger threats to Antarctica than the impact of tourism," says Green. "Even if a ship sank, it wouldn't have a huge impact on the continent, but if all the ice melts due to global warming, it most definitely will."

My personal journey to The Ice showed me that what we do as individuals does matter: The small choices wake in our everyday lives ultimately impacts the entire planet. Seeing the penguin rookeries, cerulean glaciers, and leopard seals napping on icebergs up close reminded me that I am not separate from nature, but part of it. 

So when I returned home to the concrete jungle, one of the first changes I made wasn't an huge feat: I simply gathered the dozens of plastic grocery bags collecting in a growing ball under my kitchen sink, and carried 'em down to my local supermarket for recycling. When the store manager told me they didn't recycle plastic bags, I hopped on the L train and deposited them at the environmentally friendly Whole Foods supermarket in Union Square.

It's not much, I know. But if each of us starts making some tiny adjustments—whether it's buying only locally-grown produce to reduce your carbon imprint or just turning off the lights when they're not in use—we'll be doing our part to keep the earth healthy—and the glaciers from disappearing so fast.

The 2008 Travvies: Nominations are open!

TLG: Hey travel fans...it's that time of year again! The nominations are now open for the 2008 Travvies. These are the coveted awards given out to the best travel resources on the web and were created by Mark Ashley of the site Upgrade: Travel Better. We were in Bali last year when discovered that The Lost Girls had won the honor of Best Group-Written Travel Blog. We shrieked so loud, people on the street though that we'd been attacked! Clearly, it was a proud moment.

Of course, we'd be thrilled in you'd click through to the site to nominate us again (hint, hint!) but you should certainly show your love for all of the websites and blogs that help make you happier, more informed and well-entertained traveler.

Here are this year's categories:

• Best Travel Blog
• Best Single-Author Travel Blog
• Best Group-Written Travel Blog
• Best Destination or Trip Narrative Blog
• Best Informative/Practical Travel Blog
• Best Photography on a Travel Blog
• Best Big Media Blog
• Best Podcast or Video Blog

Happy voting!!

Lame Ass (Yet Funny) Travel Joke

" A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The Stewardess looks at him and says, "I'm sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger."

--Thanks goes out to Robert Alan Pressner for contributing this nuggett of humor. Quite honestly, the highlight of our Monday.

Lost in Ecuador: Sink or Swim in Baños

In Spanish, the word baños actually means "bathroom," so I found it amusing that an entire town christened was such (but I promise to spare you attempts at potty humor in this post). My bf Jeff and I learned that the name actually refers to the thermal hot springs, or baths, that well up from underneath the town or fed by nearby waterfalls.

City planners turned these springs into series of separate soaking pools ranging from cool, to pleasantly warm to insanely, painfully hot (50 degrees C!). We recommend Las Piscinas de la Virgen, the only baths in town open at night. For $2.00, you can relax in the water with a few dozen strangers, sticking around until your fingers and are downright pruney. Technically, you're not supposed to bring any alcoholic beverages, but we can assure that no one's actually checking your water bottle.

The only thing that makes an evening soak run even more enjoyable? Getting yourself good and sore first with one of the innumerable adventure activities you can sign up for in town (or, in some cases, execute yourself).



Most tour operators lead white-water rafting and canyoning expeditions, lead hikes up the Tungurahua volcano, rent bikes for rides through La Ruta de Las Cascadas (route of the waterfalls) and the most testosterone-fueled option of all: bridge jumping.

Rather than a bungee cord, which helps you to slow your speed as you fall hundreds of feet, bridge jumping uses a distinctly non-stretchy rope. Your lifeline is simply tied to another bridge; rather than falling straight down, you jump off and swing in a wide arc. Here's a look at some other crazy fool who made the leap and recorded the experience:

Once you've tested your mettle, burned some calories and made it back to town safely, you'll be justified in treating yourself to some serious grub. On Ambato Street, between Halflants and Eloy Alfaro, you'll find the restaurant row of Baños: Drop into La Calderada ("the kettle") for some seriously delicious international specialties (they've got meat lasagna on the menu next to grilled meats) or Buono Pizza for a pie (tasty crust, but a little light on the red sauce).

Then round out your evening by bar hopping along Eloy Alfaro street--depending upon the night, you can sway along with Bob Marley cover bands, salsa dance with locals, watch scruffy traveler boys trying to pick up cute backpacker girls or just sit back and enjoy the gigantic bottle of Pilsner that only set you back a buck.

Once you're good and toasted ($4 will do it!), you can impress all of the other tourists with your incredible karaoke stylings. Jeff really wowed the crowed with his Johnny Cash impression—the drunken Germans at the bar even bought us a drink to show their appreciation!

Lost in Ecuador: Lava on the Rocks

ADP: Wiped out from the endless rain showers that had soaked us to the skin in Mindo, Jeff and I decided that we might have better luck with the weather in the town of Baños, home of the Tungurahua volcano.

True, the big cone had blown its top just 8 days before our arrival in Ecuador (sending a smoldering column of ash miles into the air and molten rivers of lava streaming toward civilization), but I'd reached the moody stage where I'd rather be coated in ash then wet for one more day. He didn't come out and say it, but I sensed that Jeff felt the same way. Or, in any case, he was looking forward to a significantly less cranky girlfriend.

Baños and the surrounding area had been designated a "State of Emergency" by the local government, but once Jeff and I learned that the road had been cleared of debris, we made arrangements to hightail it there by bus. While the volcano had settled significantly in the two weeks preceding our arrival, we could still see a massive, silvery plume puffing up from the top of the cone as we rode into town.

We were so distracted by our first-ever active volcano sighting that we very nearly didn't notice that a passenger (supposedly sleeping) behind us was actually trying to relieve us of our valuables. The bus' ticket taker had marched over and very pointedly indicated that we should not have our bags at our feet, but in our laps. He later warned me that the man was a thief, and had very nearly snatched our bags from underneath our chairs. While I assumed that this happened with some frequency on long bus rides, particularly to tourists, at that moment I still felt very much a silly gringo.

It took less than four hours to get to Baños. Stepping off the bus and looking around, I was instantly charmed. The place looked like the tropical version of a Colorado ski town, tightly surrounded by a ring of jutting green mountains. Two-story, sherbet-tinted buildings lined cobblestone streets, and in the doorframes, men and women stretched sugary ribbons of taffy that would later be sold as souvenirs.

Bypassing the well-rated-but-noisy hostel Plantas y Blancos (plants and whites, so named for two popular and illegal diversions), we decided to stay instead at the lovely Le Petite Auberge just across the street. The rooms were spotless, the garden setting blissfully quiet. A perfect place to rest up before doing a little volcano exploring—and apres adventure bar hopping.

Here's us—noticeably drier!—after our three hour hike up to "Vista de Volcan," several kilometers above Baños. The volcano was covered in clouds by the time we reached the summit, but it was still a gorgeous climb.



To read more about our adventures in lava land, check out the "Ecuador Field Trip" series on Jaunted.com.

Lost Girl of the Week: Jennifer Conrad

This week we’re giving props to Jennifer Conrad, a New York City dweller who left her job as an web editor to move to Beijing for four months so she could experience what it’s like to live in a foreign city. Rather than merely passing through a new place, she’s brave enough to stay put and really dive into what makes the city tick. You can follow her adventures as she meets locals, samples street food, and picks up Mandarin on her blog. Here’s why she got lost in her own words:

“I always loved to travel, and dedicated most of my spare income to going on adventures, whether a weekend trip to Upstate New York or flying across the country. Somewhere along the way, I concocted the dream of living in a foreign city—like, really living there, not just passing through for a few days or weeks on vacation. I wanted to work, eat, shop and commute like the locals. I'd studied abroad in Spain and in Argentina when I was in college, but it was a little too easy to slide into hanging out at bars with other Americans, especially when we were packed seven girls to an apartment in Buenos Aires.

I chose China because I'd come here once before, and I've studied a little Mandarin (although I'm quickly realizing that my language skills don't go far enough in a town where hardly anyone speaks English. I can generally get my point across—"I want to go here;" "I want to buy this. Where do I pay?"—but when people respond to me, I have no freaking clue what they're saying. The Beijing growl—every word ends in rrrrrhhh—doesn't help.) And China, especially Beijing, feels so dynamic now, with the incredible pace of construction, sweeping cultural changes, and breaking art and music scenes.

So here I am, sitting in my posh sublet, perched above an eight-lane "street" and insulated from the chaos of the city. I love the shows, the street food, the futuristic malls and filthy alleyways. After about a week, I'm still not quite sure what I'm doing here—Am I learning Chinese? Being a writer? Taking a really long vacation because who needs savings?—but I guess that's the point.”

Finding Your Passion

HCC: Growing up near New York’s Finger Lakes region, I spent the summers of my childhood building tree forts in the woods behind my house, riding my bike down hilly country roads on imaginary expeditions, and nagging my mother whenever I was bored.

One summer during our tween years, my mom arranged for my sister, Sara, and I to pick berries at a farm about a mile away from our house. She said it’d be good for us to learn how to earn money. (And, I suspect, good for her to get a little peace and quiet).

So we’d spend hours in the open fields with the sun warming our backs—alternating between popping the juicy berries in our mouths and placing them in our baskets. At the end of the day, we scored brown skin, scratches on our hands resembling a tic-tac-toe board, and a few dollars for our labors. Unfortunately for us, our hard-earned money was easily spent: We immediately pedaled our bikes to a gas station and blew it all on candy. Clearly, what we really needed was a lesson in money management.

For me, that berry-picking summer was only the beginning of a long line of random jobs ranging from cleaning toilets in college dorms, riding the county “Lead Bus” to test city kids for lead poisoning, acting as a makeup artist at a small boutique, and being the sole pizza-delivery girl on my college campus.

Ah, jobs: Love ‘em or hate ‘em, most of us will have to spend the majority of our days working to live. Luckily, I’ve found a career in writing that makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning.


I couldn’t help but think about all the crazy jobs I’ve done after getting an email from a boy named Andrew Huth (well, now a man) that I met that summer picking berries. He was a shy, sweet Korean kid who was adopted when he was eight by a family who lived near my small town of Marcellus. Today Andrew is an amazing photographer who accidentally stumbled upon the Lost Girls while doing a Google search for Peru. Once on the blog, he recognized me as one of his berry-picking partners.

Andrew’s story about taking a risk to leave a safe job to do what he loves was so inspirational, I wanted to share it with y’all (with his permission, of course). And while no job is enjoyable 100 percent of the time (that’s why they call it work!), life is too short to do anything less than spend your days doing something you’re passionate about—whether your work is crunching numbers or raising a child or baking delicious food. So here’s Andrew’s story, along his striking photos of himself, his wife and his travels:

“I wanted to write you because I came across your blog about your travels. There are so many things you wrote about regarding the reasons why you chose to leave your jobs for a year (the top 20 reasons were hilarious) that resonated with me. I didn't travel the world for a year, but the issues about passion and doing the things that give us life were topics that I could really understand.

A few months before my wife and I got married she was diagnosed with cancer (stage 4 leukemia) and, as a result, we decided to cancel our public wedding and got married in her hospital room with just a few people. It turned out be one of the best decisions I have ever made. For the next 4 years or so our lives were filled with chemo, radiation, marrow transplants and dealing with the results of all those things afterwards.

During that time I made a choice to leave my photography and take a steadier job working at a school district near the Catskill region (photography was pretty slow in the small town that I lived). Well, it's been a little over 6 years now since my wife got sick and she is doing fantastic and we decided to move to Philadelphia (where she works as a scientist) so that I could follow my passion of working in visual communications.

So I left my job at the school and, filled with uncertainty in my heart, I have picked up my camera once again and, as they say, "found my calling" (as cheesy as that sounds). I’ve done many different kinds of photography, but my greatest passion is to work in the non-profit sector using my photography to communicate the needs, diversity, and richness of our communities around the world. In that vein, I have interfaced with an organization called Compassion International and they are going to be sending me to Korea to do a documentary for them this year. This was one of the reasons why what you and your friends did was encouraging to me and inspirational. It takes guts and an adventurous spirit to leave one's security (jobs, family, friends, etc.) for the chance to experience life in a larger context than the comforts of your backyard (even though that was Manhattan).

People often end up living within limits that feel safe to them. So in the vein of being a bit adventurous and making a connection I decided to write to you to tell you that I was delighted to have randomly crossed your path (even if it was virtually). Sounds to me like you have some projects coming up that you feel passionate about so I want to encourage you to keep taking the kinds of jobs that give you life. What better way is there to live your life?”

Beyond Cumbaya: The Country Retreat

After sleeping off one hell of a long-haul travel hangover, Jeff and I stumbled downstairs to meet our hosts, Andrew and his Ecuadorian girlfriend Lau, for the day’s activity.

When the pair had originally suggested a small barbeque at the family farm outside of Quito, I’d somehow presumed it would be the four of us, the boys’ backpacker buddy Jenna, and possibly a few relatives to even up the local-to-gringo ratio. Within the next two hours I’d discover that when Latin Americans throw a party, the word “small” is up for interpretation.

At noon six of us piled into a tiny compact car driven by Max Epstein, a Californian ex-pat who’d recently found local fame with his band Ecuafornia (particularly the hit song “Light it Up”). As we struggled through traffic, Max kept us all amused by singing the jingles he’d written for local clubs and burger joints, while Lau and Andrew laughed giggled then eventually translated. Ten minutes after passing through the town of Cumbaya (not to be confused with the slighter better known gospel kumbaya), we turned off the winding dirt road, passed through a gated archway and arrived at Lau’s farm.

Set high up on a hill overlooking the city, the place was mix of Old MacDonald’s farm (complete with geese, duck, horses and cows) and quaint country cottage. We walked inside the small, but cozy house, and started unpacking the veritable mountains of groceries that Andrew and Lau had somehow managed to cram in the trunk of the car.

Just as I started to grasp that we had enough chicken, beef, sausages, and of course, beer, to supply a small village, three more vehicles filled with friends descended upon the little house. Among the masses, there was another Andrew (who’d brought his 2 year-old daughter), Angus, a junior archeologist from Cape Cod (who’d brought his cute and extraordinarily young-looking girlfriend), Paula (Max’s girlfriend), Lau’s cousin (also with a girlfriend). I felt a teeny bit bad for Jenna, who probably hadn’t realized that she’d gotten roped into a couple’s retreat. With a drink in already hand, she didn't seem particularly phased.

Not long after everyone had arrived and the grilled had been lit, the heavy storm clouds rolled in and started drizzling their contents.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. This happens all the time.” someone piped up. “ It goes away in 10 minutes.”

A half hour later, the light rain had turned into an outright downpour. No way would the sun make a reappearance. The relatives scramble to set up the tent that would cover the grill, and the hardy folks smoking outside scrambled in the house for cover. In the confusion, the dog slipped inside as well and manged to steal a hamburger before he was shoed back out again.

Once the grill—and our feast— was well protected, everyone relaxed and used the inclement weather as an opportunity to get to know one another. And, of course, to work their way through the extra cases of 40-ounce beers that the guys had dashed out to pick up. Later, someone "found" a large bottle of rum not previously offered up. We feasted on the meat, roasted vegetables, queso fresco (fresh cheese?), a massive salad, chips and ice cream. We stuffed ourselves silly, drank a little more, then went back for seconds and thirds of the food. By the time the alcohol started drying up, the language Spanish-English language barrier had mysteriously disappeared. Everyone seemed to understand one another.

After the last stragglers left, it was down to me, Jeff, Andrew and Lau. Max had taken his girlfriend—and his car—home earlier, so we walked out the the dirt road to catch the bus. Within seconds, a pickup truck with an extended cab slowed down to pick us up, and Andrew negociated a rate for the driver to take us back to Quito.

I'm not sure why (maybe it was the idea of sitting in a cramped bus for two hours) but I was inordinately pleased abut that we were psudeo-hitchhiking back to town. Sure, the ride set us each back $5, so it wasn't actually the thumb out tramping I'd recently read about in Into the Wild, but a cool (and climate-controlled) adventure all the same.

Lost Girl of the Week: Courtney Scott

Jen: When Amanda, Holly and I quit our jobs to travel around the globe, we idealistically imagined that the trip would drastically change our lives, hurdling epiphany after epiphany into our paths until we were completely enlightened beings. As you can guess, it didn’t exactly work out that way. While our journey was by far the most rewarding experience I’ve had in my 29 and 5/6th years, after effortlessly sliding right back in to corporate America, our overpriced NYC apartments and mundane daily routines (somehow the gym Stairmaster can’t compete with the Inca Trail), we began to wonder…did what we do really make any difference? What we didn’t expect was to get that answer, not from ourselves, but from other lost girls and boys around the world. Emails poured into our yahoo accounts, ranging from hilarious travel tales and kind commiseration over shared mishaps to serious props for taking a huge leap of faith and touching notes of admiration. Hey, maybe we on to something. Sure, we hadn’t solved world peace, but helping others realize their travel dreams has honestly been one of the greatest rewards I’ve gotten out of our trip (cue cheesy “Awww”) So when I received the following email from my friend Courtney, I felt compelled to name her honorary Lost Girl of the Week:

'Before you go whisking off to Ecuador and I never see you again, I thought I should tell you how much of an inspiration you have been in my life (as if you didn't already know). I always had dreams of doing what I'm doing now, but when I watched you pick up and leave Vh1 something clicked in me...I realized, "duh...this doesn't have to be a dream....it's actually tangible." And here I am. So Baggs...thanks!!'

The ironic thing about this email is that when I heard Courtney was jetting off to Italy to pursue her passions for traveling, teaching and writing, I remember thinking how brave she was to attempt this amazing adventure all on her own. I was completely freaked out leaving to take our RTW trip and I had not one, but two, girlfriends with me.

So here’s to you, Court, our Lost Girl of the Week, who continues to inspire me and everyone around her with an insatiable enthusiasm for life, an uncanny ability to find humor in almost any situation and an undeniable beauty, inside and out! Love you, Bella!


Courtney Scott, on getting lost:

Ever since I can remember, I've been really good at losing things. Keys, wallet, Metro Card, kitchen utensils...anything was fair game. My mother used to say, "It's not lost, honey, it's just misplaced." And then, like magic, the object would reappear in just the place where I'd looked five times before, as if to say, Duh, I've been sitting here the whole time!

Well, now that I'm in the land of the lost (Italy to be exact) I'd like to report that being a lost girl is AWESOME(no wonder that soup spoon is still hiding out)!

My decision to get lost came last June -- armed with a one-way ticket, a scrap of paper with my new boss' Italian contact info, my family's moral support, and a bit of courage, I left behind my New York state of mind to pursue big expat dreams. Exact motives are still uncertain. Perhaps I was in search of the elusive key to happiness, or maybe I just needed a break from my ever more frequent role of bridesmaid. Whatever the case, my gut said, "GO," so here I am, and I can say with surety that I made the right decision.

Life in Italy is beautiful, exciting, and of course, incredibly delicious. But above all, it's inspiring, and in my experience, inspiration is the best motivation. So, if you are restless like I was, just "GO." Get lost. It will be hard to say goodbye to friends, even harder to family, but like my mom always said, nothing is ever really lost. We are all just temporarily misplaced. And when I reappear I am certain I'll have more wisdom, perspective and peace of mind than I could have ever found on my own soil.

---Courtney Scott

Read more about Courtney’s adventures in Italy on her blog:
http://abroadrview.blogspot.com/2008/02/life-in-treviso-is-it-anything-like-nyc.html