Category Archives: Budget
Only on the inside of the restaurant will you see the sign: El Rincón de Lucy. Nothing on the outside of the establishment will give an indication that it’s a restaurant that’s colloquially called Lucy’s.
On my first day in Salento, a British couple in my hostel asked if I’d like to join them at a place that they said was good and incredibly reasonable for only 6,000.
About three weeks ago, on my second night in Colombia, I stayed in a hostel’s dorm room in Poblado, figuring I’d save money. But, I didn’t like the place or the night’s sleep that I got.
After that night, I hadn’t slept in a dorm room for over two weeks. In Colombia, the main advantage of sleeping in a community setting is that it often costs half the price of a private room.
The private rooms always provided me with two pillows. The one dorm bed I slept in in Poblado had a thick pillow that was perfect for my needs.
The smooth 38,000 COP or $20.93 minivan ride through the mountains from Medellín to Manizales reminded of a jaunt from Boston to New York City. The picturesque Andean landscape is not what made me think of the Northeast of the United States. I compared the two rides because the time and costs are similar.
Manizales is a city of around 400,000 people. It sits at an altitude of 2,150 meters or 7,054 feet. The average temperature is only 18º C or 64º F. It tends to be very chilly in the morning and can warm up a bit during the afternoon.
I never thought I’d write a post about a city’s metro system. But, I’ve seen a few of the world’s finest and the Medellín Metro is now my favorite on earth. Using it is also what I believe to be the best activity you can take-part in during your stay in Medellín.
Yesterday, while throwing my vegetarian ideals into an amoral abyss, I devoured a typical slab of Colombian steak and all of its accompaniments. It was during that feast when the idea came to fruition: When in Medellín: My Traditional Sunday Dinner.
On occasion, I’ll seek out a traditional dish from the local area I’m in. Ideally it’s healthy and therapeutic local fare. However, because this is a flesh consuming land, the main focus for now is to eat something traditional that the locals eat.
Up until just a few days ago, I didn’t know where I’d be drifting to next. As I’ve been virtually location stagnant in central Florida for the last month, I needed to make a decision. I thought: Just where on earth am I going to go?
I flirted with the idea of visiting the Iberian Peninsula because it boasts a mild climate, allows the ability to improve on language skills, and has some of the best gastro delights on the planet. Another perk is that Northwest Africa is practically a stone’s throw away over the strait of Gibraltar.
I recently found myself in the lovely little Rajasthani city of Bundi, which sits between Udaipur and Rajasthan’s capital of Jaipur.
Bundi was on my way to Delhi, where I needed to get to in order to fly out of India, as my six-month visa was just about to expire. Every guesthouse worker who inspected my passport and visa during check-in over my final two weeks, reminded me of this legality.
I spent two days and three nights in Bundi. While there, I came across a lot of people. Now, while perusing the photos and being reminded of the interactions that I had, it feels as if I’d spent a lot more time there.
I’d scribbled the list down while on a shabby but efficient local bus from Jaipur this morning.
One item was to get my shoes shined or cleaned. Before I checked into my hotel room, a boy had already approached me and shined my shoes for 20 Rupees or $.39. I had to be firm with him about not putting new soles or stitching in. If I hadn’t been explicit, he would have attempted to do more than shining. He would have tried to command an exorbitant price of 200 Rupees or more. I knew this from past experience. Shoes clean.
Suddenly I’d removed myself from touristy looking surroundings. In less than a minute there was nobody throwing out the endless:
“Where are you coming from?”
While traveling in SE Asia and India over the last few months, a mantra has been popping into my head. It’s not my own catch phrase though.
At the Backpacker’s Inn in Managua this past January, I spoke with a gregarious Canuck from Saskatchewan. He was eating breakfast that he’d brought from home while we were chatting about healthy eating and exercise. He had some sort of fiber-laden cereal concoction. I said:
“Is that healthy? Is there sugar in it?”