Life On the Road For a Lonely Planet Author

It sounds like a dream job. Many people seem to imagine that Lonely Planet writers spend days on the beach with giant cocktails in carved out pineapples; nights involve lavish dinners, more cocktails and everywhere they go people are doing everything they can to make their stay in the country perfect. Often I hear hotels and restaurant I've visited complaining that I never even came through. This always makes me snicker because they must think I show up with a name tag, giant camera and a clipboard or something. Or maybe they just assume I'd introduce myself - that would be nice but honestly I don't have time to chat at length with dozens of hotels and restaurants everyday.

The reality of how authors research varies from author to author but, in my case, most places I go to never know I came through. I probably stayed in their cheapest room and I can't eat everywhere so usually I'll just stop in to a restaurant for a juice or maybe just ask to see their menu. They probably saw me and felt bad that I was on my own and wondered what would lead a woman my age to stray so far from home. They may not have noticed me at all. Other travelers never guess who I am either.

I often get asked "what it's like" and what I do on an ordinary day. So here goes. I'm going to write this as an average day in Southeast Asia since that's where I spend the most time. Warning: It's long and a lot less exciting than you think it will be.

7:15 I wake up in a hard bed with a really bad pillow, wash-up in the hostel's shared bathroom, and put on clothes I washed in the sink the day before that have been drying draped over chairs and whatnot. I turn off the fan and get out the door in 15 minutes.

7:30 Breakfast at my favorite local joint. This will often be a place I've put in the book for years. It's busy and I'm hardly able to get a table but I'm the only Westerner there. So much for Lonely Planet ruining places. If it doesn't serve banana pancakes and looks too foreign, people won't go there. I enjoy an amazing meal, check my email on my phone, read a local paper and map out my day on the back of a map I picked up at my hostel. I take a moment to enjoy the exoticness of where I'm sitting and I'm thankful of my situation; I pay then go.

8:15 Nothing is open yet which frustrates me because I'm in a hurry to get stuff done. I walk around town to see which Western style breakfast places are open so I can recommend them for people who like to eat before 10am.

9:00 I start looking at hotels. I have a list of new places I've found on the Internet, by traveler's recommendations, at tourist offices or through local friend's suggestions. I've mapped them all out as I heard of them. As I'm on my way to a place on my list, I pass another place I've never heard of, pop in and ask to see a room. The people don't ask who I am or why I'm there and enthusiastically show me around. I ask them a million questions and they tell me all sorts of fun stories about the place and give me their business card. It ends up being the coolest place I find all day. I sneak into a hidden corner once I'm back outside and jot messy notes in my notebook.

10:30 After an hour and a half of wandering around, looking at hotels and seeing what's new I start to see other travelers eating their Western breakfasts around town. I note which places are the busiest, check the menus and get a table at the one that looks the best. I order a cup of tea, catch up writing notes in my notebook about everything I've seen that morning then text a local friend to see if they can meet for lunch. Meanwhile, I chat with a nice English couple at the table next to me who give me a great detailed, review of a bike tour I won't have time to go on myself. They of course have no idea that they just gave their input to Lonely Planet.

11:00 There are a few places I have to see that are way out of town. I hop on a bus then walk about 10 minutes to find the first place, which has great reviews on Trip Advisor. From the mildewed outside and depressing, hard-to-get-to location I can tell it's a dud. I wake up a TV-hypnotized receptionist and she takes me to a stinky room with a stained carpet and a lint-filled air-con vent. A few confused looking older Americans are dining on white toast, jam and coffee in the cafe downstairs. I thank the receptionist but don't bother to get the price because there's no way I'm putting this place in the book.

12:00 I walk high-speed back to the bus stop. The bus never shows. It's about 90 degrees Fahrenheit and 100 percent humidity, my face is bright red and I feel awful. It starts to rain. I walk about ten minutes in my plastic-bag-like emergency rain poncho while cars whiz past and I'm sure they're all laughing at me in my silly poncho that makes me look like an orange balloon. A big truck sprays muddy water all over me. I finally hail a taxi.

12:40 I meet my friend who I haven't seen in two years at a new hole-in-the-wall she says is really good. She says I look like hell and laughs at my wet, muddy legs and plastic bag poncho. We talk about her love life, my love life then she orders all the stuff that's supposed to be so good. It's fabulous so I take extensive notes about it. We stuff ourselves while chatting about what's new around town. After lunch I decide to throw my ugly poncho away and buy an umbrella.

1:40 It's raining and my friend has the afternoon off so she asks me where I need to go. I've been to most of the museums etc in town before and from asking around I've found nothing has changed, but there's a new shopping mall in a district I don't know well that I'd like to check out. We go but on the way stop at a temple I've never heard of where they do some sort of ritual that people come from all over the country to take part in for good luck. We go in and do the ritual, I talk to the abbot who tells me the fascinating history of the place. I take notes but once in the car I realize I'll never have the space to put this awesome place in the book - plus it's out of the way and a little spooky so, like my breakfast joint, hardly anyone would go there anyway. I consider returning to this place one day for one of the hundreds of non-fiction travel books I've thought about writing.

3:00 We get to the mall and it looks like every other mall in Southeast Asia. I jot down the names of some of the stores, we get an ice cream then head back to town.

3:45 My friend drives me to all the other out of the way hotels I need to go to. They are all really boring. She also helps me find a cheap umbrella. Meanwhile I get a text from another friend who wants to know if I want to go out to dinner with a bunch of couch surfers. I say OK.

6:00 I go back to my hotel, shower and write a few emails. What I'd really like to do is take a nap but I'm afraid I'd sleep through dinner.

7:30 I meet my local friends, three couch surfers and a random expat Kiwi English teacher at a food stall area. My friend has told them all about me so they all ask me about my job. They of course want to know how much money I make and assume I have to save all my receipts that I'll send back to Lonely Planet who will reimburse me for any and all expenses. I tell them that I actually work from a lump sum and if I spend more I earn less. No one seems to really care so I try and change the subject. I excuse myself during dinner and take notes on the new stalls that have opened since the last time I was here.

8:30 I've managed to pick the brains of every person at dinner and have a few good suggestions for the next town I'm going to and another review of the bike tour I can't go on. I suggest we get dessert at a place I want to try.

9:00 We go get dessert then check out a local night market. Then everyone but my local friend and the Kiwi guy goes home. The rest of us decide to go check out a new bar.

9:30 It's sort of dead but we all sit and have a beer. By 10pm more people show up and by 11pm it's rocking.

11:30 We move on to a club down the road that has a surprisingly decent cover band from the Philippines. I go up to dance, get hit on by a 50+ year-old Australian military dude and a Nigerian gigolo then decide this is more depressing than fun and I'd better go home. A drunk Asian girl I was dancing next to hugs me like we're best friends and tells me I can stay at her house next time I'm in town. I thank her but know I'll never see her again. My friends walk me home.

1:30am Back to my board-like bed with the too-tall pillow of rocks. I set my alarm for 8am so I can catch the 9am bus out of town. I toss and turn for about half an hour recapping my day, turn on the light briefly to check for bed bugs then fall asleep.

After each research trip comes the write-up which, in general, equals the time spent on the road. My fellow author Leif Pettersen has captured this type of day on video better than I ever could in words. To see it click here. Enjoy!

The Worst Pick-Up Artist in the World

"You travel alone?"

While traveling in Southeast Asia I get this question daily. Some people are curious about why a woman would travel solo, others are concerned about my safety, while an annoying few, like this five-foot two-inch, long-haired fellow in Sulawesi, try (not very subtly) to feel out my potential as a quicky romance or a free-travel-with-benefits sugar mama.

This guy had just checked me into my bungalow on a fairly remote island, and I was obviously by myself, so there was no way to lie. Yup, I was alone and although he was a potential nuisance, I was going to be stuck with him on a small beach for a few days so instead of chucking him off my deck I chatted with him a few minutes about where I'd been and where I was going (these are the questions every Indonesian asks to make polite conversation). Then he left and I un-packed a bit and had a shower.

I settled on my terrace with a book and had read about five words when my new friend was back. This time he was carrying a photo album.

Without asking he grabbed a chair, pulled it over a little too close to mine and looked me in the eye. "I like older women," he told me in a heavy-lidded voice.

I guessed he was about 25 and somehow, during those all those years of life, he hadn't figured out that this was the worst pick up line ever.

"Here is Daniella my Italian girlfriend," he said, opening the photo album, his knee touching mine. The first picture showed a picture of him and a pretty blond woman on a motorbike. "She is older than you I think. Forty-five?"

You might wonder why I hadn't shooed this boy away after his first sentence. First, I think I was muddled about how old he actually thought I was (I was 37) but mostly, he was so bad at wooing women that I just had to see where it was all going. It was a social experiment.

"Ah, yes, I'm younger than that. She's very pretty."

"We meet here, she stay same room you. She like me. Take me to Bali and Lombok. Here we are at Bali guesthouse." He flipped through the pages glancing up at me from time to time with expectant eyes, perhaps to see if any of his moments with Daniella would inspire me to leap out of my chair and make passionate love to him right there on the terrace.

That didn't happen. He closed the album and once again looked into my eyes, his swirling with bedroom thoughts.

"You like me?"

"I'm married, no thanks." Social experiment over.

"Everybody married. Husband not here."

"No, I'm really married and totally not interested."

I was obviously not the first person to tell him this and in the end he was an OK guy, just a young horny one trying to get a free ride. He got up, giving me one last sultry look.

"Ok, I here you change mind and please don't tell my boss."

Over the next few days we hung out and drank beer together with all the other people staying at the guesthouse and I watched him fumble through a few other single women that turned up. Each time I saw him with his photo album I'd tease him and he'd laugh. I half wished Daniella would return, the only woman capable of falling for the worst pick up artist in the world.

Searching for the Perfect Thai Beach

Over seven and a half weeks I visited 23 islands and over a dozen mainland beaches along Thailand's Andaman Coast. My purpose: to update Lonely Planet's Thailand guidebooks. It was of course a pleasure getting to re-visit one of the world's most beautiful regions, but it was also exhausting moving around so fast and often it was disheartening to see how over-run with tourism many places have become. As time went on, the beach of my own personal vacation dreams seemed more and more elusive.

Ko Phi Phi, a strong contender for most stunning island on the planet, is the poster child of my dilemma. The island has been a tourist favorite since the 80s but ironically it was Alex Garland's book The Beach that made it go from busy to spoiled. The film version, starring Leonardo DiCaprio was filmed on Phi Phi and now that site of the mythically quiet strip of perfect white sand in the middle of a national park is descended on daily by hundreds of tourists in uncountable boats. Worse, these tourists toss their cigarette buts and beer cans into the water and are generally loud, drunk, unsmiling and rude to the locals and each other. But if you look over their heads and wear earplugs, the view sure is nice.




The saddest place for me was Ko Lipe that only four and a half years ago (the last time I visited) was still a place where you could find a bamboo shack on the beach for $8, dazzled, conscientious travelers and plenty of empty stretches of beach. Since I was last there, a tourist super highway has been built connecting the two main beaches and every block of beach has a resort built on it. The sea gypsy islanders who were one omnipresent have been cordoned off in a village towards the middle of the island. On the site of my old bamboo bungalows of yesteryear are three concrete resorts. The visitors to Lipe are a cross-section of package tourists and twenty-something flashpackers - a step up from the rowdy sunburned Phi Phi crowd, but degrading quickly just the same.

So when people ask me what beach to go to in Thailand what do I say? Luckily there are still a few places that remain relatively un-crowded but honestly I don't have much hope of them staying that way. Ko Bulone Leh right near Koh Lipe is still mostly owned by locals who run inexpensive bungalows and has beautiful beaches sans rows of beach umbrellas; Ko Jum near Ko Lanta is quiet as can be with long stretches of grey white beach and a lively population of local fisherfolk; Ko Payam near the Myanmar border has seen a lot of development over the past few years but most of it is tucked away in the trees and is locally owned so you hardly notice it's happened - pick between the lively backpacker beach or the quiet and far more beautiful white sand beach to the north.




But it wasn't until the last day of my trip that I found my perfect beach, the place I would actually pay to go to and bring my family. No one has really heard of Ko Phratong and I hope it stays relatively unknown (no, not that many people read my blog). There is no regular transportation and the only resort, The Golden Buddha, is a yoga retreat attracting lovers of peace and quiet. But I wouldn't go to the Golden Buddha. No, I'd go to the totally unknown bamboo thatch huts of a certain motorcycle-riding Thai hippy named Mr Chuio (http://www.mrchuoibarandhut.com). Not only are his bungalows tucked slightly inland from an empty white beach with chalky-blue water and two small beach-laden mini-islands a swimmable distance from shore, but Mr Chuoi's place has style. He propagates rare orchids found around Ko Phratong and hangs them around his "resort." The bungalows are decorated with paper flowers and shell mobiles handmade by the man himself. Then there's his bar. The island is home to a few community based tourism projects and a dive club (at the Golden Buddha) and everyone who's looking knows that fun times are to be had at Mt Chuoi's - nothing loud and obnoxious, just fun. The locals like tourists thanks to the community based tourism and there are all sorts of fun projects to get involved in from turtle conservation to fishing. Yup, this is where I'd like to turn up and stay a few weeks. It's the kind of place where you'd know half the people on the island by the time you left. I'm saving up already. It will be in the next Lonely Planet but Ko Phratong with it's lack tacky T-shirt shops, girly bars and transport isn't likely to attract the tourist throngs too soon.

Diane Mc Turk: Savior of Giant River Otters & the Coolest Woman I Have Ever Met

If you haven't noticed by now, I really love Guyana. Every day I spent there was an unbelievable adventure, but meeting Diane Mc Turk, an ageless woman who has devoted her life to saving the Amazon's endangered giant river otters, was a highlight.

Diane owns Karanambu Ranch, a cattle ranch, wilderness preserve and eco-lodge at the north of Guyana's Africa-like Rupununi Savannas. Getting there requires either flying or driving overnight from Georgetown then taking a few hour-long boat ride. While visitors are lodged in comfortable, brick and thatch bungalows, it's still not for the faint hearted - the entire time I was there a snake was coiled in the rafters above my bed.

"Hope you don't mind not having the place to yourself," laughed Diane's nephew when he showed me to my room. "Don't worry, he's not poisonous."

Before seeing Diane, visitors usually get to meet her orphans, the playful giant river otters who wiggle around the grounds like happy dogs. Diane often shows up at meal time with the air of a teenager who'd rather be off with her wild and crazy otter friends, but once she starts talking in her documentary quality voice, she gets as carried away by her charm as everyone else and starts to enjoy herself. By the end of a visit most folks have heard wildlife tales that only a lifetime in the Amazon could produce as well as some surprising stories about Diane's 30 years in England when she worked as an actress and at London's Savoy Hotel.

"Men fall in love with her and women want to be her," Diane's niece who manages the ranch told me. "She is irresistible."

It's true, Diane with or without the otters emanates free spirit and a child-like magnetism. She stands as straight and slim as a fashion model and manages to look elegant as she pulls a canoe through the murky, caiman-filled river, feeds dead fish to her otters or wrestles the critters with her strong, apparently bite-proof arms.


Through her un-countable years of work Diane has rehabilitated over 40 otters and her ranch has been used as a research center and springboard for the animal's protection. But nothing beats getting out into the water with Diane and her "kids," Getting to play and frolic in the water with the otters was one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life.

Here's a short video I took of Diane and her posse while I was at the ranch:

Jam Session at the Tahiti Immigration Office

This photo was taken by my friend Fletcher Irwin when he stopped by the Papeete Immigration office at noon on a Thursday. He got his visa and hung out and drank beer and played music with these guys for about four hours. Paradise.