My experiences abroad forced me to confront unfamiliar things in a way that drastically fast-forwarded my personal growth. And as much as I hate articles like this one, I figured that it might be prudent to crystallize a few pieces of this wisdom I’ve gained and share them with you, for whatever they're worth. So what are my big takeaways after all this time?

This is Part 2 of my time sneaking around Venice, seeing everything this amazing city has to offer, and spending as little money as possible in the process. Here we'll go through extensive photo galleries, which stretch well into night time on the canals, as well as meet the infamous Plague Doctor. 

With places like Florence and Rome literally at my fingertips, it might be considered an odd move to choose to visit Genoa instead. Genoa had always fascinated me though. Nobody ever talks about it, but, if Google Images was to be believed, it's a gorgeous seaside city! Let's check it out...

I would be so racist against Indian people by now if I hadn’t taken so many trains. In a place like India, my white skin makes me a huge target because of my perceived level of wealth. As such, most of the interactions I have with locals are about money, and the unfortunate majority of them are not positive. Traveling through this kind of environment, it's easy to get cynical. My saving grace throughout my whole time in India was my time on the trains.

Mumbai's Kamathipura is the oldest red-light district on the Indian subcontinent, and is the 2nd largest on the entire continent of Asia. The 1st largest is Calcutta, which is something that I didn’t realize when I was actually there. If I had we probably would have paid it a visit, like we're about to do in Mumbai.

After a day's train ride out towards the West Indian border from Jodhpur, I arrived in Jaisalmer. From Jaisalmer, I hired a jeep to take me farther out into the nothingness of the Thar Desert, stopping through an old Rajasthani ghost town on the way. The last article left off where the road ended. We had been on rough, gravel roads for hours at this point, so we were on the actual edge of India. From here there would be nothing but sand and shrubs until Pakistan. So where were we... 

This was a highly anticipated destination for me. A long, long time ago, in my suburban, Midwestern, teenage angst, amidst my endless internet searches for all the far away places I would go one day (and boobs), I came across the work of a photographer named Steve McCurry. He had taken the most amazing photographs of places I had never even heard of, one of them being a city that was painted entirely blue, in some far off land. I was enthralled as I clicked through the pictures of children running down the distinct, baby blue alleyways. I don’t remember ever bothering to see exactly where the photos had been taken, as the practicalities of actually getting to places like this had no application for the younger me, who was trapped. The older me however, made a point to dig these photos back up, and figure out how to get himself there.

It was another 20 or 30 minutes through the canyon before we finally saw Turtuk off in the distance. As we approached, the canyon grew wider ahead of us, and we saw a small collection of trees. It wasn't long before we were in the middle of those trees, and I was taken completely by surprise by what we found. Tucked away in such a remote part of the Himalayas, Turtuk was like a lot like Shangri-La. Despite its harsh, rugged surroundings, this village was a little slice of heaven. 

At 18,380 feet (or 5,602 meters) above sea level, Khardungla Pass is the highest motorable road in the world. To put altitude in perspective for you, that's almost 13 times the height of the Empire State Building. It's a little less than the length of 115 (American) Football fields. It is the equivalent to about 3.5 miles. It is also 780 feet higher than Everest Base Camp.

So let's get into it!

If anybody remembers my “travel plans” post about India, one of the big things that I wanted to do was to get to a place called the Spiti Valley in India’s Northern Himalayas. The Spiti Valley would have been cool, but it was just an idea; in reality I just wanted to see the Himalayas, in some way, shape, or form.

Life happened, and I ended up in Leh. 

I'm going to kick this post off with some history, and work my way up to the problem I almost had with the Bangladeshi police. It's going to be heavy on writing and light on pictures, so if that's okay with you, let's get started.

Waking up in Dhaka I hear the ringing of bells on rickshaws, people yelling, and dogs barking. I am staying on the 9th floor of an office building that rises high over the slums on Dhaka’s southwestern outskirts. I look out the window, and I can see a rainstorm blowing in from the south. The Muslim call to prayer eerily wafts over the half-finished buildings all around me from the local mosques. 

Bagan is a pretty picturesque place, but for me, these 9th century Buddhist ruins, cool as there were, were only part of the story. The people of Bagan were also awesome to interact with, which is sort of a rarity for a traveler. If we’re being honest here, most local people who talk to you when you’re traveling are trying to sell you something. It’s pretty rare to travel in the developing world and have somebody talk to you with no ulterior motive. You have to get pretty far off the beaten path for that. That is what makes Burma so great.

When I got to the ticketing counter for Tiger Air, I told the woman at the counter that I was traveling to Yangon. She looked skeptical. “You’re traveling to Yangon? Really?” she said, squinting.

“Uhh… yes?” I replied groggily.

I was required to go through security twice before I got on my flight (the second time at the gate) and when I finally did, the plane was only about 1/3rd full. It was not a smooth flight, so while I’m white-knuckling my seat, let me fill you in on Burma really quick.

During one of my rainy days in Sa Pa, one of the hostel workers told me about an organization that had just been initiated that allowed foreigners the chance to have a question and answer session with former Viet Cong soldiers, and interact with children who were growing up with disabilities caused by Agent Orange. I was beyond excited to hear that such an organization existed. This was going to be the real deal. 

Ba Vì Mountain is just a couple hours drive West of Hanoi. It’s supposed to be beautiful, so my roommate and I decided to make a motorbike trip of it. I’m going to tell you now – our first attempt was a miserable failure. It was not until our second attempt that we summited that S.O.B.

Thailand is known all over the world for, among other things, its food. And I wanted to try some authentic Thai food. “The weirder the better” I told my hosts. They were pretty amused with my antics and sent their maid to the market for some goodies. I would have liked to see the market but I ate all the food just the same. So let’s start the count down of strange foods. We’ll order these according to weirdness and save the weirdest for last.

Most of what happens to me in the classroom isn't enough to merit its own extended blog post. But as the Vietnamese school year comes to a close, I want to share a collection of stories from my classes. This is the first of 2 installments of the teaching 'story basket'. So without further adieu, here are 4 little windows into what class with Peter is like.

Hội An was a very important trading post of the old world. It was the opinion of most Chinese and Japanese merchants that Hội An was the best trading post in Southeast Asia, if not Asia at large. However, thanks to a treaty signed with the colonizing French, Đà Nẵng eventually became the port of choice in lieu of Hội An. Also, due to a build up of silt at the mouth of the river, Hội An became all but inaccessible to the large ships that used to frequent its docks. The effect of this was isolation. The ancient town of Hội An was all but forgotten about during Vietnam’s tumultuous next 200 years.

We sat on the deck of the boat eating our dinner together. Nobody was speaking. We were not in good spirits. Lightning flashed silently off in the distance in all directions with increasing frequency. The coast of Sumbawa sat calmly a few hundred meters away. I watched the lights twinkle from shore, wishing I was there instead of on this boat. With the wind picking up, we could all feel the storm coming.

The rest of us, strangers to one another at this point, looked at each other, and then with an uneasy shrug climbed down onto the deck of this tiny boat. It bobbled precariously with every passing wave. One thing was certain: this was going to be interesting. So let’s fast-forward a little bit, shall we?

We were driving overnight and I was doing my best to sleep but it was tough with our bus driver trying to break some sort of land speed record on the winding, bumpy mountain roads. It didn’t help that I had to twist and mangle my long white-person legs into terrible positions to fit into my seat in the first place. We made it to Mù Cang Chải a little bit before sunrise. This town would serve as our ‘base camp.’

Within a few weeks of arriving in Vietnam I had the blessing of more than one day off work in a row. It would be the only time that this would happen naturally (that is, without twisting any arms) until February so I wanted to make the most of it. I asked everybody I knew (which at that point was not a lot of people) what their plans were for the Holiday but nobody’s off-time coincided with my own. It was two days before my holiday and I had become gloomily resigned to not doing anything. But then one of my roommates’ plans changed at the last minute. 

Welcome to my travel blog. The point of this blog is first to keep everybody updated on what I am doing and verify to the world that I am still among the living. Secondly, this blog will chronicle my story as I make my way through uncharted waters. Hopefully it can serve as encouragement for anybody else out there considering doing the same thing.