What do Americans really know about Australia? Do they picture Paul Hogan wandering through the Outback holding a Koala and oil can of Fosters while listening to ACDC? Perhaps, it’s Nicole Kidman dining on kangaroo steak and a bloomin’ onion while drinking Shiraz in the shadows of the Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge? Regardless of ridiculous stereotype, I wanted to better understand the energy and people of Australia during a recent trip to the land of Oz. What I found along the way were gregariously friendly and resourceful people that were proud of their beautiful country. Many Americans probably romanticize Australia as this wild and exotic place down unda’; and certainly, that wouldn’t be too far from reality. However, I found that Australia and the USA have more in common than they might care to admit.

In this "Review in Two" (Ri2) I summarize why I bought GoPro's Hero 3 and Hero 3+ Black Editions, its highlights, drawbacks, and my conclusion; all within a two-minute video!

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In this "Review in Two" (Ri2) I summarize why I bought The North Face's Surge II, its highlights, drawbacks, and my conclusion; all within a two-minute video!

On a recent work trip to San Marcos, I decided to seek out some of the highest-praised BBQ in central Texas. Like many of my travels, it began with an idea and led to an obsession and gluttonous adventure. My ultimate goal was to visit a different place each day and then rank them. To maintain fairness, I decided I would order the same items at each location: brisket (some lean, some fatty), pork spare ribs, coleslaw, and beans. I conducted some preliminary online research to identify the highest rated barbecue places within a 1 ½-hour drive of San Marcos. After considering each location’s days and hours of operation against my schedule, I narrowed down the list and began my “7 days of Q.”

I don’t envy the tourist board tasked with attracting travelers to a destination called “Iceland.” There are no large amusement parks, tropical white sand beaches, or even a single Starbucks. Most people might recall its recent financial meltdown, or perhaps the volcanic eruption that closed European airspace for several days. Its only highway, shockingly donned Highway 1, provides a 2-lane ribbon of asphalt around the perimeter of the island, while the river-breached roads of the interior are restricted to 4-wheel drive vehicles. Iceland’s culinary all-stars include fermented shark, roasted sheep head, minke whale, puffin, and horse; all of which can be washed down with the national firewater: Brennivin, otherwise known as “Black Death.” All of this begs the question: Why would anybody want to travel to Iceland? It’s exactly this type of question that drives me in search of an answer.

We were late... We woke up late. We ate breakfast late. We filtered water late. We broke down camp late. We eventually hit the trail a little after 9:00AM. Trust me, that's hella late. We had over 7 miles and two passes to cover before early afternoon when the mountain weather gets as unpredictably moody as a newborn.

Last year a friend and I traveled to Barbados. I crafted a fine itinerary of rum, flying fish sandwiches, surfing, and island exploration over the course of 5-days; it was active, but not overly ambitious. Our reservations were confirmed, routes were identified, and excitement was high. Everything was going exactly to plan…until we met Shawn.

I fantasized about visiting Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos for years. The exotic street food, pristine beaches, ancient temples, and frenetic city centers called to me like an alluring siren. Being a leave-starved American, I’ve pushed this trip back several times because I wanted to spend as much time and see as much as possible after flying 20-hours to get there. However, I eventually had to face the fact that I would rather settle for a whirlwind Indochina sampler than no trip at all. With that said, traveling through 4 countries in 17 days is like riding a slip-n-slide down a buffet table: it’s a barrage of flavors and you’re not quite sure what you’ve consumed until you pick through the mess on laundry day. Despite the compressed timeline and logistical challenges, the unique personalities of Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos left my mouth tingling and my mind satiated with memories.

“Why did you decide to go to Newfoundland?” is the most common question I receive about my latest road trip. For the uninitiated, Newfoundland is a mystery. A Canadian commercial campaign tempts viewers with dramatic oceanside cliffs and nearly 300 year-old fishing villages, while a hypnotic soundtrack of crashing waves, traditional folk music, and narration deliver a simple message: “Newfoundland is about as far away from Disneyland as you can possibly get.” It may be true in the literal sense; however, figuratively, perhaps it’s only a matter of time… Regardless, I have “newfound” appreciation for the affable people who make this rugged landscape their home and struggle to find stability in an unforgiving global economy.

When I hear the term “ecotourism,” chills run down my spine. I envision hoards of Northface-wrapped families bumbling down paved jungle pathways and posing for pictures in front of caged animals. Corporate-sponsored mountains, fast food picnic areas, animatronic wildlife, air-conditioned cabins, and manmade waterfalls; all at family-friendly prices! As much as tourism may benefit a beauty-rich and economically-poor country, it can destroy the essence of what made the country worth visiting. A slight apprehension haunted me before a recent trip with three friends to one of the first and most popular ecotourist countries in the world. Had the raw beauty and unique experiences that made Costa Rica worth visiting been incorporated, diluted, and packaged for the masses? Upon reflection of our trip, my conclusion is a conflicted “sort of…”

How well do you know your home state? I thought I knew my home state of Michigan pretty well. However, a recent road trip through the Upper Peninsula (“The U.P., ‘eh”) shattered my assumptions. Along my trip I found breathtaking scenery and discovered what it is to be a “Michigander.” Michigan is more than home to the media’s depiction of Detroit; it is home to Midwesterners who value humility, pride, and community. Michigan is more than home to the Great Lakes; it is home to one of the largest populations of wildlife and natural resources in the country. Michigan is more than the place where I grew up; it was, and will always be, the place that I am proud to call home.

I've struggled with writing about my trip to Ecuador more than any other journey I've taken. I booked my flight and the majority of my trip within a week, yet 5 months following my return I’m still plagued with empty pages and frustration. It’s a relationship that started quickly and innocently, but has led to an entanglement of conflicted emotions and ideals that have been difficult for me to explain. Ecuador is simply much more than the small volcano-ridged South American country that straddles the equator and claims the Galapagos Islands. There’s a beating heart within those volcanoes, and her fiery pulse can be felt from the city streets to the island shores. She began gently whispering secrets in my ear as soon as I arrived in Quito.

When my friend Dan suggested that we go to Alaska for our annual Independence Day road trip, my reaction was mildly unenthusiastic. The egotistical independent traveler in me recoiled at the thought of floating cities anchoring into port and flooding the streets with camera straps, tennis shoes, and land excursion itineraries that fit every budget and ability level. However, after some careful thought & research, I became convinced that Alaska could be more than just a generic corporate package. And, so it went.

Snowpocalypse. Snowmagedden. Snowverkill. Regardless of the flaky wordplay phrase of the week, all the media-fueled hype accumulates to just another winter storm for this Midwesterner. Although I would certainly prefer the sunny 75’F winters of Florida, I have no problem surviving in the snow globe encased Washington, DC. These are the winters of my youth. When I was growing up, it seemed as though twelve to sixteen inches of snow blanketed Detroit on a regular basis throughout the winters. Hell (Hell, Michigan) had to freeze many times over before we cancelled school! Over the past week, Old Man Winter and I have had some time to re-acquaint ourselves like estranged childhood friends. As it goes, Snowpocalypse has reminded me of all the things that I hate and love about a winter storm.

Mexico. I had feelings of both child-like excitement and dread, in regards to heading south of the border. I winced at the thought of MTV spring breakers and khaki-short tourists ordering Budweisers and nachos at that bar with the creepy peeping Tom amphibian. I was disgusted by the media’s depiction of Mexico as a lawless place of drug trade beheadings and a source of “foreigners that threaten our way of life.” However, I was obsessed with visions of Mayan ruins gazing eastward over the pastel blue waters of the Gulf. I heard that Chichen Itza had been a recent addition to one of the many versions of the 7 Wonders of the World. Beyond all, I wanted to cut through the bullshit and experience Mexico on my own terms. I wasn’t quite sure what that might entail, but I was certain it didn’t include Senior Mickey Frog’s place. My plan: fly to Cancun, immediately get in a rental car and quickly drive south before I could heed the hotel strip’s evil siren calls of “ all-inclusive.”

I’ll be honest; I had low expectations for Miami. Miami’s reputation for being a shallow, materialistic, over-populated, over-augmented, over-tanned, and under-dressed “LA of the East Coast,’ never appealed to me. After living in Tampa, FL for 3 years, I had but fleeting momentary regrets of never driving 4 hours south to visit. However, being the idealist I am, I wanted to give Miami, and particularly South Beach (SoBe) a chance to prove me wrong. Okay, perhaps my decision to take a trip down to Miami may have been influenced by the fact that it was November and DC was dipping into the low 60s during the day, while Miamians were basking in the mid-80s and sunshine. Either way, I set out to see what Miami is all about.

If you’ve got a 3-day weekend to kill, Pittsburgh is probably not the first destination that comes to mind. To be honest, I always thought Pittsburgh was a city that surfed the wave of the steel industry, only to be thrown with arms & legs flailing by the decline of manufacturing in the United States. However, I heard rumors that Pittsburgh had recently scraped away the rust and urban decay to weld the roots of the growing green technology industry into its economy. Like a brother from another mother, I had a soft spot for Pittsburgh (perhaps, in my skull). But like Pittsburgh, my hometown of Detroit has had its time of glory and ghetto; unfortunately, more of the latter than the former. My underlying hope in visiting Pittsburgh was to see if an industrial city that went down in flames can really reinvent itself and rise up with dignity once again.