culture
Stories
Mongolia
Slideshow: Kazakh Culture In Mongolia
A hunter and his eagle scan the horizon. Kazakhs use eagles, who can spot an animal from several kilometers away ... read more
by Andrew Cullen
26 Jul 2010
Laos
ETHICAL DILEMMA: Is Tubing In Laos Just Harmless Fun?
Squinting into the strangling Laotian sun, I was already sweating in the morning heat. My traveling companions and I were finally in Vang Vieng, Laos to spend a day river ... read more
by Dave Zook
10 Feb 2010
Blog Posts
Spain
El jamón
I suppose since the provisionary title of this blog deals in poking fun at the highlights of southern Spanish culture, I'm required to cite my references. This post is a cultural footnote meant to inform/charm/warn travelers to this region of Spain (Extremadura). Perhaps you'll get along with some foreshadowing: Perhaps ... read more
by Levi Shand
17 Oct 2010
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![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Western Oases, Egypt] On a hazy, dusty day in December, a few friends and I explored Egypt’s Western Oases. As we approached a fortress in the middle of the desert, a man in a blue scarf beckoned us over and, in broken English, asked if we wanted to see the “moomies.” After several minutes of confused hand gestures, he led us to a dark cave, filled with preserved human remains—mummies! There were a few more of these caves, all dug into the side of a dry mountain, and we walked around taking it all in. Afterwards, the crypt guard, alone in this remote spot in the desert, invited us to his home for some tea and dominoes. I almost beat him once, but it was clear he had more practice.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Nicole Sheldon-Desjardins</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/bVj_hb/small.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Western Oases, Egypt] On a hazy, dusty day in December, a few friends and I explored Egypt’s Western Oases. As we approached a fortress in the middle of the desert, a man in a blue scarf beckoned us over and, in broken English, asked if we wanted to see the “moomies.” After several minutes of confused hand gestures, he led us to a dark cave, filled with preserved human remains—mummies! There were a few more of these caves, all dug into the side of a dry mountain, and we walked around taking it all in. Afterwards, the crypt guard, alone in this remote spot in the desert, invited us to his home for some tea and dominoes. I almost beat him once, but it was clear he had more practice.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Nicole Sheldon-Desjardins</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/bVj_hb/large.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Varanasi, India] When my best friend and I traveled to the holy Hindu city of Varanasi, we did as the locals do and rowed on the Ganges river. On our way to the boat, our guide Bapa saw three goats, a mother and her two young. Bapa invited the goats on the boat, telling us that they would enjoy the ride.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Lauren Carey</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/IelDuU/small.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Varanasi, India] When my best friend and I traveled to the holy Hindu city of Varanasi, we did as the locals do and rowed on the Ganges river. On our way to the boat, our guide Bapa saw three goats, a mother and her two young. Bapa invited the goats on the boat, telling us that they would enjoy the ride.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Lauren Carey</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/IelDuU/large.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Varanasi, India] Every night on the ghats in Varanasi, India, mass prayers echo along the shores of the world's holiest waters, the Ganges River. Hindus from around the world are drawn here to find peace and clarity, or to pray for their salvation. Here, a foreigner stands in a moment of prayer after the evening puja has completed. A curious local has approached him, and though I can’t hear what he’s saying, I imagine that he’s asking the same question that so many others have asked me that night: Why do we foreigners travel so far to come to a place so different? I always answer: We come for the same reasons the locals do, and we discover in doing so that we are more the same than foreign after all.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Connie C</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/sdqzG8/small.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Varanasi, India] Every night on the ghats in Varanasi, India, mass prayers echo along the shores of the world's holiest waters, the Ganges River. Hindus from around the world are drawn here to find peace and clarity, or to pray for their salvation. Here, a foreigner stands in a moment of prayer after the evening puja has completed. A curious local has approached him, and though I can’t hear what he’s saying, I imagine that he’s asking the same question that so many others have asked me that night: Why do we foreigners travel so far to come to a place so different? I always answer: We come for the same reasons the locals do, and we discover in doing so that we are more the same than foreign after all.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Connie C</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/sdqzG8/large.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Tetouan, Morocco] In Northern Morocco, my companions and I traveled through the medina of the historical city of Tetouan, where vendors sold everything from spices to doorknobs to leather. We were stopped by a woman offering traditional Moroccan garb, who insisted on dressing up my classmate, Cristin. Cristin was draped in layer upon layer of cloth, both simple and ornate, that covered her from head to foot. After the final tuck, we could hardly distinguish her from anyone else walking around the market! </p>
<p><em>Photo by Mike Mian</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/o4AfmP/small.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Tetouan, Morocco] In Northern Morocco, my companions and I traveled through the medina of the historical city of Tetouan, where vendors sold everything from spices to doorknobs to leather. We were stopped by a woman offering traditional Moroccan garb, who insisted on dressing up my classmate, Cristin. Cristin was draped in layer upon layer of cloth, both simple and ornate, that covered her from head to foot. After the final tuck, we could hardly distinguish her from anyone else walking around the market! </p>
<p><em>Photo by Mike Mian</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/o4AfmP/large.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Bangkok, Thailand] My friend and I were visiting Bangkok during the Thai New Year, or Songkran, and we spent an entire day taking part in what seemed to be the world’s largest water fight. Equipped with our own water guns and camping out on the street with locals, we pumped our water guns and filled up buckets all day long, drenching people along Khao San Road. You would never expect that just days before, violence had erupted during an anti-government protest on these same streets. On this day, people were nothing but happy, playful, and soaking wet!</p>
<p><em>Photo by Christie Fong</em></p>
<p> </p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/XxQiUJ/small.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Bangkok, Thailand] My friend and I were visiting Bangkok during the Thai New Year, or Songkran, and we spent an entire day taking part in what seemed to be the world’s largest water fight. Equipped with our own water guns and camping out on the street with locals, we pumped our water guns and filled up buckets all day long, drenching people along Khao San Road. You would never expect that just days before, violence had erupted during an anti-government protest on these same streets. On this day, people were nothing but happy, playful, and soaking wet!</p>
<p><em>Photo by Christie Fong</em></p>
<p> </p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/XxQiUJ/large.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Havana, Cuba] A friend from Puerto Rico asked me to track down an acquaintance while I was in Havana. My mission: To find the man with the largest collection of tango music in Cuba and give him my friend’s gift, a collection of CDs by Carlos Gardel. Upon arriving at the address I'd been given, I learned that the collector had died a year earlier. My stepson began visiting Havana’s tango clubs to see if he could learn more about the collector, and eventually met the Cuban music historian Felix Contreras, pictured here. We were invited to his home in Havana, where we talked for hours about Cuban music. Felix told us that the tango collection had been divvied up and sold, a fact that made him very sad.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Julie Collazo</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/sljOnW/small.png)
![<p><span style="font-size: larger;">Runner-Up</span></p>
<p>[Havana, Cuba] A friend from Puerto Rico asked me to track down an acquaintance while I was in Havana. My mission: To find the man with the largest collection of tango music in Cuba and give him my friend’s gift, a collection of CDs by Carlos Gardel. Upon arriving at the address I'd been given, I learned that the collector had died a year earlier. My stepson began visiting Havana’s tango clubs to see if he could learn more about the collector, and eventually met the Cuban music historian Felix Contreras, pictured here. We were invited to his home in Havana, where we talked for hours about Cuban music. Felix told us that the tango collection had been divvied up and sold, a fact that made him very sad.</p>
<p><em>Photo by Julie Collazo</em></p>](http://media.glimpse.org/uploads/sljOnW/large.png)
