Hoi Anne

Home of the $80 custom made suit, the best damn fresh pork spring rolls I've ever tasted, and  a homeless guy openly masterbating on the street.

That last part is not in the Lonely Planet.

Sunset breeze in Hoi Ann

May I never forget how perfectly warm it was.

Suit and tie.

I try to do everything Anthony Bourdain tells me to do. So it makes sense that I would get a suit made in Hoi Ann. This according to Anthony is something every man should do at least once before he dies.

With a 2 day process and a cost of $80, I wish I would have had 8 more made.

Thanks to the great folks at Yaly for thier fine and incredibly affordable work. Now if I only had a meeting or movie premier to attend...

That time I slept in a cave

This is going to sound pretentious. It is not meant to be.
The more we travel the harder it is to find "tourist attractions" that really impress us.
Shit that does sound pretentious.

What I mean by that is, all the temples in the world are beautiful in their own right. All the waterfalls, sand dunes, fishing villages, mountain hikes, undiscovered beaches, etc etc are all amazing. It's when you see a lot of them, in a row, that they kind of lose their magic. That or sometimes they just pale in comparison to one you did a few months/years back. You can't help it. You're always comparing what you're doing to what you've done. So in that sense, it's hard to find something new that excites you.

The hike to Hang En (third largest cave in the world) in Phong Na National Park would be classified under the things we've done that fucking blew our minds.

Funny thing about this hike, in the beginning we weren't sure we'd do it. Everyone we asked said it was amazing. "You have to do it!" "You sleep in a cave." "It's incredible." The only problem…everyone also said it was really hard. They would look us up and down and then declare, "it's really tough. You have to be in good shape to do it." Sabrina and I we're like what the hell, are we not in good shape? It's not like the both of us rolled into the tourist office on a pair matching rascals.

Their warnings made us begin to doubt ourselves. I mean how hard could it be? Are we really not in shape enough to do it? We did Machu Picchu. Nearly got divorced on the hike up Rinjani, but climbed that bitch. Did a 15 hour hike in Patagonia. Could it really be that hard? Do people think we're that fat? I mean most of the people saying we aren't in shape enough to do it are fatter than we are.

It's hard to explain the amount of fear and doubt this all created in our heads. Our psyches we're a mess. And yet. We did it anyway.

Everything about the hike was amazing. The people. The scenery. The feeling of being completely lost. Being so small. The majesty of the earth growing, towering over you in every direction. Amazing. Absolutely amazing. And we got to sleep in a FREAKING CAVE! In retrospect in ranks as one of my favorite things we've ever done. Worth every penny.

Was it tough? Eh. It was a long hike, but I wouldn't say it was hard. But then again maybe that's just because I'm in really good shape. A physical specimen. Not fat. Not at all. Screw you fat tourist office guy.

Apparently David Beckham looks like a pale, out of shape Irishman

Because I've been told at least 6 times now "you face look like David Beckham"

Makes me feel sorry for Posh Spice.

This is what your lady looks like

when she gets published for the first time.
Congrats travel writer!

Goodnight sweet chicken.

The knife was dull. Much duller than the knife I would give someone who wanted to slit my throat. But here I was, sawing back and forth across this tiny chicken's neck. Hoping to break the skin. Hoping this all would be over soon. His chicken eye staring at me the whole time, as if to say "just get it over with pal".

Then it happened. The tiniest prick. On the 4th try. Blood spewing forth. Dark red. The chicken was now dinner. I was a murderer.

I'd be lying if I said I ever thought I'd kill a chicken and eat it. Just never thought there would come a time or place where that would be necessary. I get my chicken at El Pollo Loco. They do it for me.

But having done it, in the rain soaked jungles of Vietnam, I have to say I feel as though I just completed a necessary human task. I feel kind of alive. In touch with the world around me. Maybe its a primal feeling, but it kind of feels good.

After all I've eaten 100's of chickens and cows and seahorses in my life, and never once had to extend myself anymore than pointing at their names on a menu. For the first time in my life I was part of the whole circle of life thing.

So was it good? Let's just say I appreciate the sacrifice my chicken made…and had I known he'd be so tough and chewy he might still be alive.

A kayak pirate looks at 40

Today Ryan and I kayaked across Ha Long Bay to the island he wished we stayed on. Not that our island was bad. It just wasn't filled with 20 something girls in bikinis and 20 something bros with dicks drawn on their backs. Apparently Ryan is really into one of these two things. Maybe both. Who knows.

Our heads filled with visions of plunder, naked jello shots, and all out debauchery we docked our banana yellow kayaks on Ass Island only to realize we forgot our wallets. Fucking morons.

After an awkward walk around the premises and a quick game of pool, we took to the beach and watched as all the bikinis and marker cocks boarded the daily booze cruise and set off into the bay. Leaving us alone. And broke. On Asshole island.

Yellow lights and plastic chairs

There's something special about eating on the street. Something familiar, that I had forgotten about until tonight. The feel of a tiny plastic chair against your ass. A beer sweating on an even tinier table in front of you. The warm glow of street lights, bathing everything in a golden soup. The feel of the dirt and shit under neath your sandals. The smiles on the faces of strangers. The exhaust from passing scooters mixing with the intoxicating smell emanating from a nearby grill. The way your shirt sticks to your back.

It's all so specific. The smells. The feeling of the air. The way the food tastes. It's better. Much better than any over priced restaurant. Give me a crowded street corner any day. When it's crowded you know it's good.

This is Hanoi. This is traveling.

Last couple of months in a nutshell

I don't want to write this blog anymore, but I know future me will be pissed if I stop documenting our travels so here are the cliff notes from the last month or so…

Morocco was a mixed bag. I hated Tangier and liked Marakesh. Chefchaouen was cool and blue. Our over night trip to the desert was over nighty and deserty. And we rode a bus that was filled with people puking their guts out.

Lisbon was amazing. I loved it. Every fucking square inch of that city. I want to move there.

Christmas in the Keys was great. Awesome to see everyone. Snorkeling. Alligator swamp boat rides. Cuban cigars. Taylor Swift. South Beach hostels. The Square Grouper. Batting Cages. Good times.

Phoenix was relaxing as always. Golf and a lot of chilling. Always welcomed.

Off to LA and then back on the road. Vietnam is only a week or so away.

Overnight in the Sahara

By my count I've ridden a camel 3 times in my life. The first two times were in Egypt. Once around the pyramids (and the KFC adjacent to the pyramids), and then for a "night in the desert", which actually turned into a ride in the rain and a night in a nearby village due to said rain. The third was yesterday.

I was excited for #3. This was the real deal. We were headed into the Sahara. In the middle of no where. To sleep in the desert. Scorpions, desert pirates and all.

First thing you notice when you head out of town is that the desert is quiet. I mean really really quiet. The kind of silence that actually hurts your ears. You can hear your heart beating, the blood moving through your veins. Your ears ring a bit. It's quiet.

The second thing you notice is that it's really still. The clouds sweep over head, but the sand below and all around you doesn't move. The landscape is frozen, like your moving through a painting.

The third thing you notice is that camels puke up their stomaches to attract other camels. It's pretty gross and mine did it a lot. The inflated sack hangs out of their mouth while they make a gurgling sound that supposedly drives the ladies crazy. Yeah girl.

The ride took about 2 hours. Eventually we made our way to a collection of Berber tents set up in a tiny row at the base of a large sand dune. Our camp was the furthest to the right. We drank mint tea, ate a pretty good chicken tajine, climbed up the nearby sand dune to watch the sunset and then spent the night under a full moon so bright it seemed as if the sun still remained in the sky. We played the drums with our guide, spent the night experimenting with night photography, and listened to some podcasts by candle light.

In the morning we hurried back up the sand dune and were treated to an amazing sun rise. After that we hopped back on our stomach puking camels and set off for home.

All in all a pretty perfect night out in the desert.

Today I wasn't having it

…and that's ok. It's also one of the hardest things to come to terms with while traveling. Admitting that you don't like a place you're visiting, or that you would rather stay in bed all day then go see another fucking site.

Today was one of those days. From the moment I woke up in Chefchuan to the time I went to sleep for the 3rd time in 24 hours I was an absolute asshole. A monster. A rain cloud pissing on everyone within my 2 foot radius. Unfortunately for Sabrina, she got pissed on a lot (and not in the sexy R. Kelly way) For that I am sorry.

I've experienced this before on other trips. Days where I could give a fuck about doing anything. Days where if another dude asks me if I want to buy hash or eat at his shit box restaurant I may rip his head off and punt it over the city wall. These are not good days. You would not like me on these days.

I also know from experience when this happens, perhaps the worst part of it all, is what a fucking jerk you feel like for being mad in the first place. Here you are traveling the world, no job, no rent, no responsibilities other than getting yourself to the next amazing new place and instead of going to that next new awesome place you're gonna spend your today pouting in your hostel room, mad at the world because it's rained for 5 days straight. Poor little you.

So what do you do? I'll tell you what you don't do. Make your wife cry because you're being a dick head. Whoops too late for that one.

What you should do is realize … it's alright to have a bad day traveling. When you're doing it for this long, traveling stops being a vacation and just becomes your life. Your day to day. And it's going to come with as many stresses and inconveniences of everyday life at home. When it gets to the point where you want to set fire to your guide book… just allow yourself to have a bad day. Embrace it. Sit in your angry shit pile all day long. Stew in it. Revel in your anger and then... get over it, you are traveling the world after all you unappreciative little bitch.

The golden rule of travel - Bird in hand

When you see a pack of top ramen, an ATM, a pair of pants, a bottle of wine, a baguette, or a place to print out plane tickets …DO IT. Don't convince yourself you'll find the same thing later. Or that you "don't want to have to carry it around all day". A bird in hand is worth not having to spend the next three days dwelling on how dumb it was not buying the wine when you had the chance.

Earth versus Uranus

I've said it before and I'll say it again, my favorite thing about traveling is the perspective you gain. Whether it's perspective on food, freedom, poverty, religion, violence, politics, or the general hygienic state of toilets around the world, perspective is amazing.

At the top of the perspective list for me is how I now view the planet we live on versus how I did before I traveled. I used to never really think about it. I mean, yeah sure Earth is pretty cool. It's got dolphins and cotton candy and wifi. I think very few of us stop to think about how amazing it really is, cotton candy aside.

Pardon me while I step up on my soap box for a second… a one, a two, a three….

The earth is amazing. Think of it in comparison to all the other planets that surround it. Every other planet is total shit. No trees. No rivers. No mountains. No blue skies. No birds. No kittens. No rainbows. Nothing. They all have nothing. We are the ONLY planet in our solar system, that isn't a rocky, cold, empty hell hole. The drastic difference between Earth and everything else blows my mind. It's not like there are planets that are kind of like Earth, where dogs have cat heads and rain comes up from the ground. Nothing is like it, and I think we really take that for granted.

Yes terrible things happen on this planet (99% of which are caused by us, not the planet), but overall if you take a second to walk outside and look at the sky, think about how old trees are, watch the clouds float by, your mind should explode, it's miracle that any of it is even here.

In my opinion being present and appreciating it all is the single most important thing I can do each day. Take it all in. Stop. Look. Feel. Breathe. Because every single thing I see with my eyes is a miracle. I've touched Egyptian pyramids, climbed up mountains that are millions of years old, swam in countless oceans ranging from freezing to pretty darn nice, smelled the cleanest air I've ever smelled in New Zealand, sat under the stars in the middle of the Bolivian desert, the list goes on and on. Each time I'm completely floored that any of it exists. And there's tons of it to see. All you have to do is go outside and look around.

I love picturing this little ball, with all these people, and all these beautiful things floating in the galaxy. Pretty amazing stuff when you stop and experience it.

This hostel makes no sense, and it's amazing!

When skate park surf hostel meets 18th century elegance this is what happens.
Mona Surf Hostel

The hostel where your toilets are plated in gold.

Your floors and bidets are made of marble.

Your in door pool looks like it is from the Shinning.

And your ramps, rails, and other skate stuff are totally tubular.

Don't ever let a bed bug bite your nipple.

Trust me on this one. It will ruin your life for the next 2 weeks.
ITCHY NIPPLE!!!!!!

When wine is cheaper than water you drink ALOT of it.

Wine with breakfast?
Wine with lunch?
Wine with wine?
Sure! Wine not?! Get it??!?!?!?!? HAHAHAHAHA wordplay.

You read that right folks. Spain knows what's up. Buy a glass of wine get a tapa. Buy the menu del dia, you can get a tiny water or an ENTIRE BOTTLE OF WINE. Go to the local grocery store, wine is $2.

At first when I realized that wine was actually cheaper than water I thought I was drunk, then I realized I was drunk, and that it is cheaper!!!

VIA LA ESPAÑA! Good luck liver, you don't stand a chance.

See Mom I was right! Or maybe you were. It's debatable.

Here's a european fashion tip. Yellow mustard everything is back…with a vengeance.

Funny thing is, one time in my life I owned a pair of mustard yellow jeans…that got me kicked out of chemistry class because they were so fucking hideous my chemistry teacher couldn't attempt to teach a class whilst looking at them.

A little background.

I was a dumb kid. An even dumber teenager. I was and am still very impressionable. At or around 1990 my hero was Parker Lewis. Fox had just recently become a channel and one of the first shows they rolled out on their fledgling network was Parker Lewis Can't Lose. A total rip off of Ferris Beuller's Day Off, but amazing never the less. Besides Parker's couldn't give a fuck attitude and his god like hair,  I was mesmerized by his fashion sense. All sorts of silk shirts. Crazy pattern and colored jeans. He was the embodiment of 90's fashion and I wanted to be just like him.

So on my something or other birthday I asked my mom, neigh demanded that she take me to the local Chess King and buy me his entire wardrobe. I was pumped. Or amped. Or whatever kids were saying at the time. Upon entering this bastion of fashion, I found the outfit I had to have. A white silk shirt adorned with multi colored polka dots, and mustard yellow jeans. Hell yes. This outfit was the tits. Or the flap jacks. This was the outfit that would vault me to the top of the social circle of my peers. 

My mother wasn't buying it. Literally. I think her words were, "I am not buying that. It is awful." Of course I responded with the timeless response "Whatever Mom you just don't get it." After minutes of begging, she caved and bought the outfit. I think her parting words were "it's your funeral."

Fast forward to unveiling day. It was early in the semester. Time to bust out all the awesome clothes you bought during break. I slid on my mustard yellow pants while blasting 95 South. Buttoned my silk polka dotted shirt (shit felt fancy). Clipped on my gold necklace showcasing a gold marijuana leaf, and my Nikes. I was ready to fucking kill this day. Side note: At the time, I was attending the most prestigious boarding school in the country. This was the land of the Guggenheims, the Bunns, lacrosse, Black Crows, and Huey Lewis. This was not the land of Mustard colored jeans.

I walked to class, strike that I pimp walked to class. I felt awesome. I WAS PARKER LEWIS! AND I COULDN'T LOSE! That was until I walked into chemistry class.

I sat in the front of the class cause you know that's where geniuses sit, and was promptly told to go home and change. I can remember my Nigerian teacher saying something to the effect of, "I can not teach this class with you looking like that. Go home and change."

So I did. Absolutely gutted. Stupid yellow jeans. My mom was right, they'll never catch on.

Until 2014 when every single person on the street is wearing mustard yellow. Hot dog vendors. Bus drivers. Homeless Hipsters. Bankers. Asian tourists. Everyone!!!!!!

The prettiest city in the world in 3+ pics

San Sebastian may be prettier than Paris.
There I said it.
The beaches. The food. The quaint little streets. The people. The vibe. And the best Gin and Tonics I've ever had. All add up to a pretty spectacular place.
I was in love the second we set foot on the spotlessly clean sidewalks. My mind melted when we strolled along one of two beaches, while classical music floated over our heads (the city has speakers surrounding the beach which they use to set the mood for beach goers.) I felt like I was in a movie. Everything more perfect than the next. Look at that dog frolicking in the waves. Look at that old fat man in a speedo. Look at that topless woman. And that one! Ohh no not that onE…yuck.
Then the food. Tapas everywhere, which here they call pinchos. Every bar top lined with bite sized deliciousness. Walk in, they hand you a plate and you goto work. It's like a better version of Soup Plantation, more European.
Bascially you eat, drink, walk around, look at beautiful stuff, goto the beach, eat some more, drink a lot more, and so forth and so on.
As if that wasn't enough there's an amazing castle over looking the city with a pretty impressive statue of Jesus and 360 degree views of the city, an amazing lighthouse in the middle of the bay, and more BEAUTY! It's just so god damned beautiful!!!!!!!!
For more beauty and pictures of beautiful things click this beautiful link.

Montserrat Spain in 3+ pics.

Jesus. OMG. and holy crap.
The closest you can come to heaven without getting hit by a bus.
For pics of one of the prettiest (and most spiritual) darn place I've ever been click here.