Challenge participants simply indicate which places they have been on the list of 100 power spots. Once you’ve completed the test (wipe brow, crack knuckles and sigh with relief here), you can compare and share your results. 426,976 Facebookers “like” this, so, clearly, in Martha-speak “it’s a good thing.”

Margarita Island, Venezuela

Apparently the “average user” hits 23 matches on the list that scatters the latitudes and longitudes from Big Ben to Bora Bora. But Teotihuacan, Mexico? Kiyomizu-Deru, Japan? Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India? I had to Google each one, which is also a good thing.

I discovered the Travel List Challenge when my Nashville pal Heidi posted her results a few weeks ago via Facebook and clocked in with an impressive 37 out of 100 (which earned her a shiny bronze out of my travel-centric friends). I’ve seen her expired passport books, and they unfold like the rest of my life’s dream trip itinerary. She has earned some bonus points for her travel as a videographer with World Vision, but her other destinations have been pure pleasure, not biz.

My own sister punched in a score of 15 (I’m sure she cheated somewhere during the ‘test’). Melinda Merkle of Memphis took silver with a proud 42 (despite her homing instinct for the beaches of Destin, Florida). Rachel Croft, ironically living la vida loca in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, who I met at a bar in Toronto one random night with my friend Michelle (on shore leave from Nunavut), took gold at the podium with a sweeping 47.

My score was a pissy 11 out of 100, which was reminiscent of my grade 11 math test scores (on one particularly stellar geometry test I almost had 11, but I was docked a mark for doing the test in red pen).

Cantina Loredo, The Gulch, Nashville

My consolation came in the form of learning that the editor and lead faculty of the travel writing program at Matador U, Julie Schwietert Callazo, scored 23. She and her husband created an iPhone travel app for crying out loud! She’s written for National Geographic Traveler! I can come to terms with my mark of 11 if Julie only scored 23. And when I say “only” we both know that 23 checkmarks on 23 places is no easy feat. There was probably diarrhea involved, a flat tire, an overpriced airline ticket, corrupt police, a delayed flight, bed bugs, stolen sunglasses, a busted flip flop and an ATM with no money in it.

(And, to not be such a sore loser, much praise to Laura Koepnick (37), PJ Moore (35), and Mark Picketts (28). It’s with pure green envy and applause that I type this.)

BUT. This Challenge forced me to consider all the places I’ve been and long to visit. When I re-examined the Travel List Challenge it was very Euro-centric, and our mighty Canada made brief appearances. The only additional places I would pro-actively go to would be Victoria Falls, Easter Island, Ngorongoro Crater, Glow Worm Cave (NZ), Death Valley, Redwood National Park and Bora Bora. So, really, I would only ever score 18 on my own travel accord.

Congo kids hamming it up

Which leads me to this. Here is my redesigned perfect 100. Of course, it’s not for the faint of heart, or faint of stomach. But, if I were to customize a list of places that I thought every responsible human being should see, feel and do, this would be it. And this is what the true challenge is, isolating our desires and meshing them with those of our partner, friends and family.

My parents are surprisingly symbiotic despite very diverse pulls: my mother’s perfect itinerary would include a road trip stuffed with antiquing, used bookstores, cemetery visits and a nice pint after looking for long lost relatives names on headstones. My dad would prefer a ballpark tour, a round of golf and a $2 hotdog with maybe a soft serve cone to follow.

My brother is an aquarium, museum fiend and whiskey hound who would bitch at the thought of my sister’s ideal day, climbing some peak in Nepal with dried fruit and 10 gallons of water. I know my friend Kelly would choose a week in Nashville, her days rammed with Titans games, deep fried pickles and pulled pork nachos, foot massages and karaoke.

Bwindi Impenetrable National Park, Uganda

I naturally lean towards extreme landscapes and fauna over architecture, but this makes for a beautifully balanced relationship where I get to experience my partner’s top 100 places too. While I suggest jungles, deserts and birding hotspots, she will counter with ruins, walled cities, hidden pubs and historical landmarks that I might have bypassed. And, better yet, now I’ll have 200 places to visit! We have a solid agreement to not scuba dive, cruise, visit China, India, Cuba (again), Vegas or Disneyland. We’re a perfect match–let’s see how you match up below!

1. a night at The Ice Hotel, Quebec City

2. Camping overnight at the very active Arenal Volcano, Costa Rica

3. Gorilla trekking at Bwindi Impenetrable Park, Uganda

4. Cobh, Ireland: where the Titanic last set sail from the White Star Line pier

5. Bolivian Salt Flats

6. Jig-fishing on the Atlantic, Charlottetown, PEI. After a tough day fishing, reclining on the red brick sands of Cabot Beach.

7. Newfoundland—a tour of the most absurdly named places: Come-By-Chance, Dildo, Pothead, Blow Me Down, Heart’s Desire, Heart’s Content, Nick’s Nose, Conception Bay, Cupids, Witless Bay and Cow Head for puffin-sighting and screech

8. Roslyn, Washington: where Northern Exposure was filmed. Roslyn was the guise for “Cicely, Alaska.”

9. Microbrew tour of Portland, Oregon: Green Dragon, Full Sail, Lucky Labrador, Mia & Pia’s, Rock Bottom, Big Horse and Vertigo Brewing among others http://oregonbeer.org/mapport2006.html

10. Sheikh Zayed International Camel Endurance Race, Queensland, Australia

11. Red Bull Crashed Ice World Championship somewhere authentically cold like Finland or Sweden

12. The Treehotel, Sweden. Instant resurrection of childhood awe & magic: http://www.treehotel.se/

13. Free Spirit Spheres—sleep in an orb suspended in a tree! Qualicum Bay, Vancouver Island, BC. http://www.freespiritspheres.com/

14. Camp in Masai Mara National Park with local residents: lions and elephants

Sunrise in the White Desert, Egypt

15. High tea at the Fairmont Empress Resort, Victoria, BC

16. Sleep under the stars and catch a killer sunrise in the White Desert, Egypt

17. Sleep in a 13th century Shali fortress, Siwa Oasis, Egypt

18. See the epic 9,000km Dakar Rally finish line

19. Iditarod Great Sled Race, finish line—Nome, Alaska

20. Just done cinnamon buns & caffeine at the Gumboot Restaurant & Cafe, Roberts Creek, Sunshine Coast, BC

21. Hayward Lake Reservoir Trail (preferably with wet dogs in tow), BC

22. Harrison Hot Springs Sand Sculpture Competition, BC

23. Marathon Du Medoc, France. 42 km, 23 wine-drinking stations en route and foie gras, oyster and entrecote steak food stops. http://www.runnersworld.co.uk/event-editorial/marathon-du-medoc-a-marathon-drinking-session/3716.html

Blue Footed Booby, Galapagos

24. Training your binoculars on blue-footed boobies in the Galapagos Islands

25. Bartolome Island, Galapagos. Described by Neil Armstrong as the closest landscape to the moon, on earth.

26. Snowy snowshoe to Boom Lake, just outside Banff, Alberta. Addition: hot toddies and a night at the Storm Mountain Lodge.

27.Wreck Beach, Vancouver, BC. Nudists, tequila shots, empanadas, moose burgers and banana muffins. True travel challenge: making it back up the stairs of the 200 foot cliff.

28. Grouse Grind, aka “Mother Nature’s Stairmaster,” Vancouver, BC—2.9 km trail up the face of Grouse Mountain, 853m elevation gain, 2,830 stairs.

29. A night at the Gladstone Hotel in the so-hip-it-hurts bleeding arts section of Queen West, Toronto. Mac n’cheese at the Drake down the street.

30. Arrington Vineyards, Nashville, Tennessee. Buy a bottle of syrah and out-do the picnic spread of your neighbours on the idyllic vineyard property. Best: sunset, tree swing, fire lit. http://www.arringtonvineyards.com/

31. Media Luna Resort, Half Moon Bay, Roatan, Honduras. All-inclusive, posh cabanas, sunsets that paint the sky burnt orange and cotton candy pink.

32. Haida Gwaii, BC

33. Gately Inn on the Nile, Jinja, Uganda (plus pancakes with crushed peanuts and honey in the morn)

Gately Inn on the Nile, Jinja, Uganda

34. Angel Falls, Canaima National Park, Venezuela

35. Piranha fishing, Orinoco River, Venezuela

36.Bicycle built for two, across the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, California

37. Finger Lakes, NY by day, fireside with s’mores at Watkins Glen or Leitchworth State Park by night

38. Sundance Film Festival, Park City,  Utah

39. Picnic in Vondelpark, Amsterdam with warm Heineken, blank postcards, girlfriend

40. Polar Bear Dip, Lake Ontario

41. Pride weekend, Reykjavik, Iceland

42. Wildebeest migration by hot air balloon, Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania

43. Visit home of Isaak Denison, author of Out of Africa, Nairobi, Kenya

Sunrise balloon ride, Luxor, Egypt

44. Hot air balloon over Valley of the Kings, Luxor, Egypt (preferably without diarrhea)

45. Kiss the Blarney Stone! Blarney Castle, Ireland

46. Rent a beach hut on car-free and carefree Caye Caulker, Belize

47. See the painted dogs of Zimbabwe

48. The Art Gallery of Nova Scotia to see folk artist Maud Lewis’ tiny & quirky 13 x 12 foot cottage on permanent display

49. Emily Carr House, Victoria, BC. A provincial historic site dedicated to an iconic writer and artist.

50. Easter Island

51. Medium-fat, house-smoked brisket at Schwartz’s deli, Montreal, Quebec

52. L’Oncle Antoine stone cave cellar bar in Quebec City. One of the city’s oldest surviving houses (1754). Order the Dieu de Ciel Route de Epices (peppercorn beer) and steamer dog.

53. Skate the Rideau Canal (Ottawa, Ontario) with a flask and a maple syrup-dripping Beaver Tail to Dows Lake (7.8 km or, 90 Olympic hockey rinks long!).

54. Yukon Territory for the aurora borealis gone wild

55. South Georgia, Crozet and Kerguelen Islands to see the comical macaroni penguins

56.Hanlan’s Point, Toronto Island with gossipy mags, beer and sandwiches on ice

57. St. Paddy’s Day in Savannah, Georgia. You ain’t seen nothing like it. And you won’t remember 80% of it. Go back for the plantation homes and old man’s beard moss.

58. The limestone pinnacles and lemur habitat of Tsingy de Bemahara National Park ( Tsingy means “where one cannot walk barefoot” in Malagasy) in western Madagascar.

59. Mammoth Cave National Park, Kentucky

60. The surreal hexagonal basalt columns of Giant’s Causeway, northern Ireland (Bushmills Distillery en route)

61. Whale watching, Kennebunkport, Maine

62. Wine tour of Prince Edward County, Ontario. Restoration of soul easily found at the Waring House Inn with a jacuzzi, Karlo Estates merlot and a wedge of something great from the Black River Cheese Company.

Karlo Estates, Prince Edward County

63. Ice fishing somewhere genuinely North & genuinely teeth-chatteringly cold like Jumping Caribou Lake, Limberlost or Magog Lake, Ontario.

64. RCMP graduation in Regina, Saskatchewan in January when it’s -58, just to feel Canadiana at its best

65. Nunavut, to see the place that has shaped Michelle’s heart like it was mere wet clay. And, to see where the caribou and arctic char jerky she has supplied me with has been sourced from.

66. See the pyramids and Sphinx by camel, Cairo, Egypt

67. Grizzly Paw beer in the Lakeview Lounge of the Fairmont Lake Louise Hotel, Alberta, watching the pink-cheeked skaters whirling about outside the Palladian windows.

68. $30 cup of Doi Chaang Coffee at the Bean Brothers Cafe in Kerrisdale, Vancouver (the famous wild civet shit/shat coffee beans) after a butterscotch root beer and $100 cognac-infused hot dog at Dougie Dogs on Granville.

69. Haggis in Scotland! After combing the powder white sand beaches and secret coves of the Hebrides.

70. Fried grasshoppers & termites at the Tuesday night market in Entebbe, Uganda with a 500ml Bell beer, all for less than $3.

Breakfast of grasshoppers

71. Murchison Falls, Uganda boat safari to the falls. Hippos, crocodiles, chocolate-backed kingfishers and elephants, oh my! Boat trip in Queen Elizabeth National Park close second.

72. Bay of Fundy, New Brunswick

73. Inuvik, Yellowknife: Summer Solstice Madness Marathon. Run in the midnight sun!

74. Bora Bora, French Polynesia for totally obvious reasons

75. Grand Canyon, Arizona

76. International Pow Wow, Albuquerque, New Mexico

77. Soupy tromp through Monteverde Cloud Forest, Costa Rica and addition: a week volunteering at the Aviarios del Caribe Sloth Sanctuary

78. All 280 km of the winding Grand River, from Elora to Lake Erie by canoe, Ontario

79. Conch fritters at the Soggy Dollar Bar and guava rum punch at Ivan’s Stress Free Bar on Jost Van Dyke Island, British Virgin Islands

80. Bracken Bat Cave, near San Antonio Texas. Home of the world’s largest bat colony.

81. Thunderstorm on Lake Victoria, Uganda with three dogs and two cats stuffed into your mosquito net.

82. Northern Ethiopia

83. Papua, New Guinea: the birds, oh, the birds.

84. Cabo Sao Vicente (Cape St. Vincent), Western Algarve, Portugal

85. Cinque Terre, Italy, because of this picture alone, although it may never appear like this again.  http://www.trekearth.com/gallery/Europe/Italy/Liguria/La_Spezia/Cinque_Terre/photo705929.htm In October 2011, Vernazza was wiped out and evacuated due to torrential rains that triggered over a hundred mudslides and massive flooding.

After the Brazil vs. Holland World Cup match

86. Amsterdam during World Cup Soccer Finals, pit stop at the Bulldog Cafe

87. Cougar’s Crag dog-friendly B&B in Sooke, Vancouver Island, BC after a sloppy walk along misty French Beach.

88. Jigokundani Valley in Nagano Prefecture, Japan, to see the Japanese snow monkeys in the hot springs

89. Botswana, Africa

90. Back to Lubumbashi, Congo to see how the young chimps have grown into handsome adults at J.A.C.K. sanctuary where I volunteered in 2009

91. Burning Man Festival, Black Rock Desert, Nevada

92. Volunteer for a week scrubbing elephants in the river at the Elephant Nature Park, Chiang Mai, Thailand

93. Two nights at the Samboja Lodge in Samboja Lestari, Borneo, Indonesia to see the orangutans

94. Ko Phi Phi Leh, Maya Bay on Thailand’s east coast where The Beach was filmed

J.A.C.K. Sanctuary, Lubumbashi, Congo

95. Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah

96. Petra, Jordan—a night at the Feynan Eco Lodge where “jift” (Arabic term for waste from olive pressing) or olive pit charcoal is used as a heat source during the 60-90 cooler “winter” nights

97. Pancake Rocks and Blowholes, Punakaiki, New Zealand

98. Anna Creek Sheep Station, Southern Australia. This place is so remote that children attend “School of the Air” broadcast from the Royal Flying Doctor Service via shortwave radio since 1951. Now students “attend” class via one-way live video feeds. The sheep stations are so massive that the nearest neighbour is sometimes being hundreds of kilometers away.

99. Sinop Harbour, Black Sea coast, Turkey

100. Barbados. Average temperature 26 degrees Celsius. 8.3 hours of sunshine per day, 3,028 hours per year.

How did you score on my customized Challenge? (I score much, much higher on my own rigged tests).

More importantly–where have you been? Where do you want to go? What’s your Top 100 places of gravitational pull?

Here’s the original Travel List Challenge: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Travel-List-Challenge/232751413466599

During an intermission (wine glass refill) I suddenly decided to be proactive and do my 2011 taxes. Buried in my receipts I unfolded a ripped-out section of The Toronto Star. It was a feature by food critic Amy Pataki, on her perfect week of eating. She documented seven days of breakfast, lunch and dinners, culling various outposts in Toronto. As I tabulated my restaurant and booze bills I started thinking of chicken and waffles, gourmet hot dogs, chocolate chip and blue cheese cookies and the like.

Taxes accomplished (and post-effects of my indulgent late afternoon massage at the spa long vanished), I felt guilt-free to return to the recreational creeping of pictures to piece together my perfect week of eating. It would go something like this (in no particular order, but consisting of all of the below and a daily 5km run included):

It was a shook-up snowglobe kind of day in Quebec City. Pink-cheeked skaters spun tight circles around the Place D’Youville outdoor rink. Here, en route to find elk and wild boar burgers at Chez Victor, we stopped for the sugar rush of childhood cocaine: maple butter and maple syrup filled cones. Probably the same nutritional value as a morning glory muffin.

I love this trend of childhood staples getting a gourmand slap of the spatula. Fusia Dog on Duncan Street has done just this. A Rowe Farms kosher weenie gets a substantial upgrade: paratha bread, kimchi, daikon slaw, coriander and a one-two punch of wasabi mayo.

50-50 fries at the Burger Bar on Augusta (Kensington Market). They are hit with a few shakes of salt and masala, and the marriage of white and sweet potato is a force to be reckoned with. Serve with July sun, pint of Augusta Ale, someone you love and a brunch burger: 6 oz. beef burg, with a fried egg, bacon and dollop of maple syrup on top. Reasonable fascimile: lamb and kimchi burger with gorgonzola & King pilsner.

A girl cannot live on hotdogs, burgers and fries and maple syrup-filled cones alone, but, my god, that would be a great existence. I am a salad specialist, mixing sweet and savoury at all costs. I think I put more fruit in salads than vegetables, and this one featured mango, raspberries, cuke and sugar peas. The dressing was a Mother Hubbard concoction of plain yogurt, honey, grainy dijon and orange juice. Never recreated the same way.

This was actually my girlfriend’s order, but, we intermingled our pastas. The Drake Hotel gets much praise for its classic mac & cheese, but Kim’s pumpkin-stuffed ravioli in browned butter sauce with smashed hazelnuts and basil was divine. One must order the splashy $12 Drake mojito too–rum, mint, fresh lime + sugar and soda. Add a night at either the Drake or The Gladstone to round out the night of romance.

When in Rome, or Egypt, one must do what the Romans/Egyptians do. So, we ate camel. It was the most sensational dish we had in all of Egypt. After being buried in sand as part of a therapeutic ”sand sauna,” we plunged into a nearby cold spring and recovered with rosehip tea and hookah pipe. As night fell, Ali Baba, our dear donkey, carted us back  to the Al-Babenshal hotel. We sat on the rooftop of the 13th century fortress and felt like royalty. In fact, royalty was dining beside us–the King of Siwa Oasis was 20 paces from us.  The camel stew with pita bread and spicy plum tomatoes and roasted potato was a 2011 stand-out.

In 2010 I was all over the Le Gourmand chocolate chip-walnut cookies for good reason. They are soft  as clouds and the chips are a still in a melty, seductive state. But…move over Le Gourmand. About Cheese (483 Church street, Toronto) was hawking chocolate chip and blue cheese cookies until the baker of these tastebud magnets selfishly went on maternity leave.

Burgers with bacon & eggs. I sense a theme and wild animal attraction. This one was from the Gourmet Burger Co. on Parliament. I have since moved to the Annex and miss my burger go-to joint.

Yes, pink grapefruit, kiwis, dried cranberries and Wensleydale cheese (which is about $10 for a wedge that wouldn’t even prop open a door). It’s the yin meal to my yang meals of burgers.

Once upon a time I loved sushi, especially wild salmon rolls. Until I thought I was going to die from sushi poisoning and had 5 years of dry heaves whenever I saw sticky rice or soya sauce. I’m on my third attempt on re-entry. This art piece was from Omi Sushi on Carlton. I want to love it, I really do.

Kim’s birthday breakfast request: a fried bologna & Velveeta sandwich. Now, this puts a traditional grilled cheese to shame. I had never seen the likes of Velveeta before. It’s an actual cheese “loaf.” Paired with ketchup and a mimosa, let’s just say it was a happy birthday afterall.

But that was last year. Upcoming? I’ve already started a Belize Must Eat/Drink list for February. Armadillo, “Panty-rippers,” raisin fudge, gibnuts (something similar to a guniea pig I think), coconut tarts, cashew nut wine, plastic pudding, tamiltos, cowfoot soup and Syd’s fried chicken on Caye Caulker.

But before then, tell me. What’s the best thing you ate last year? And what’s on your list this year?

January is reliable for inspiring deep thinking turbulence: complex analysis of where we are in our lives, where we’ve been (romantically, financially and geographically) and who we’ve become in the last year and beyond. We dissect it with the help of Oprah and try and piece together a new annual map with an even better scenic route and more favourable destination. But I still like to drive back to childhood for the occassional unexpected picnic lunch.

As a corn-silk blonde child with adventure-scraped knees, day-dreaming was a full-time job, usually clocked in at the pond, high in my favourite willow. Long before serious scholastic pursuits and career actualization, it was clear that I would be involved in social media to some degree. I loved to harness my environment in words, autograph books, audio, ambitious early memoirs and crinkled line drawings.

I used to creep down to my designated weeping willow at dusk and record the spring peeper frogs on my cassette player. I’m surprised I didn’t invent the VCR, because I went to greater lengths to audio record every episode of Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness. This was all preparation for my future as the next Roger Tory Peterson.

Like Roger, I thought I would draw birds all the live long day, peer at them through binoculars and remark on their peculiar habits. I would probably wear a camoflouge vest with lots of pockets and poke around woods with fig newtons and thermoses of hot tea. What a gig that would have been.

I was intentionally well-rounded, mostly to fulfill my mother’s wish that we be anything but boring. Because, “only boring people get bored.” I busied myself with cataloguing my arrowhead collection, snakeskins, baby opossums in formaldehyde, gems and feathers. One day I was going to open a natural history museum that would be situated near the pond. I had already started clearing a trail that I would invite visitors to hike along.

I typed out every Casey Kasem Top 40 countdown on the electric Brother typewriter my mother sometimes brought home from her secretarial job at a law firm. After the Top 40 documentation, I began typing out my museum inventory and elaborate plans for my teddy bear fashion design business. Yes, in addition to my serious work as an orinthologist (bird expert) and natural history museum curator, I thought I might sew up some Vera Wang-esque runway fashions for stuffed animals.

Like I said in the beginning, there are some things I no longer want to be.

A travel photography student at Matador U recently remarked on an instructor’s view of new year’s resolutions. They fall flat in a good two weeks, no? Instead, she gave up half-assed resolutions years ago and decided to choose a word to define a year. I had to go with “refinement” because it seemed most obvious. I’ve pursued lots of ventures over the years from writing erotica to creating stained glass windows. I’ve painted wall murals, went to falconry workshops (because there’s a big demand for falconers), shovelled horse shit at a centre for aging animals (and cried the entire time for the dying animals with such stoic spirit), tried to see the merit in cranio-sacral therapy (AND Reiki), painted storefronts for the Christmas season with a graphic design company, massaged horses, sat in a pastry chef orientation night at George Brown college and read very seriously about being a cheesemonger.

And then, with refinement, I crossed off all of the above. I re-examined life as a museum curator. I actively pursued an internship at a primate sanctuary in Hawaii. I thought about returning to work with chimps, or volunteering with elephants in Kenya. I had already learned that volunteering for four months in Africa was cheaper than living AND working in downtown Toronto for one month.

Dog walking?

My love for all dogs (except for one cranky fox terrier in 2002) and the outdoors made professional dog walking the natural selection. Except, I can’t yell. Or whistle. It takes me a good seven minutes to unravel my iPod headphones. Imagine a dozen dog leashes? If I unleashed the dogs under my charge at Riverdale as I see other chirpy dog walkers do, I’d never get the dogs back. And you can’t just go buy 12 replacement dogs.

Beekeeper

In Uganda I bought several jars of “Not Tonight Honey” made by a cheeky women’s collective outside Kampala. When I returned to Canada my stars aligned and I saw a job advert for a beekeeping position. The summer before I was stung four times in my left hand and it turned into a baseball glove. It was embarrasing and impossible to hide. My hand was so fat from the bee stings I couldn’t even fit it in my pockets. However, how cool would it be to work as a beekeeper? I emailed my resume and spoke to the head keeper the same day. I asked how often he got stung. “When the bees are mad, like, if you scare them or wake them up, sometimes 200 times.” TWO HUNDRED TIMES? I decided I would die and simply revisit Uganda to buy the cheeky Not Tonight Honey. It would be way cheaper.

Chocolatier

It was well after midnight and I was clicking through random Craigslist job ads. An old fire hall that had been converted into a confectionary shop was looking for a chocolatier. I crawled through the website, picturing myself quite easily in the back, dipping strawberries, slicing loaves of maple walnut fudge and dunking hunks of sponge toffee into chocolate. So easy. I had to Google Streetsville because I didn’t even know exactly where in suburbia it was. North? Probably. I learned that it would only take 2.5 hours (one way) and about 4 buses, a 20-minute subway ride, and a 1.6km walk to get to. No problem. I applied and clearly didn’t get the position because I barely eat chocolate let alone make it. Twice I have tried to dip strawberries at new year’s and both times the first batch was a monumental disaster. Did you know that if you simmer the chocolate too long it turns into brown cement? Maybe chocolatier wasn’t my precise calling anyway. Call waiting?

Pro Boxer

Every time I watch any of the Rocky series this idea re-emerges quite strongly. I like the hi-tops you get to wear in the ring, the long shiny shorts, monikers and the fact that you are paid to turn your body into a sinewy, sculpted machine powered by chicken, boiled sweet potatoes, oatmeal and Gatorade. However, one hook in the chops or the solar plexus and I know I would be sobbing like a big sissy.

Bed & Breakfast Owner

(Everyone who knows me well is laughing near-hysterically now). Okay, so my preferred time to rise is somewhere around 11. What? I couldn’t run a Bed & Lunch? For all those (like myself) who like to extend the check-out time, this would be a happy marriage. Wait for it—it’s gonna be the next craze and you read it here first.

White Water Rafting Guide

This was as short-lived as my excitement the first time I went rafting on the Ottawa River. Someone had pissed in my rental wetsuit and it felt like it was packed full of hot poison ivy. On the first rapid everyone in the raft was dumped and sent upside down and backwards down the raging gorge. I swallowed most of the river, ended up with two paddles in my hand and tried to drown my friend Fiona in attempts to save myself when a kayaker paddled out to save us. Yeah, don’t want to do that ever again.

Dakar Rally Driver or Iditarod Great Sled Race Competitor

Homestatically speaking, I am better designed for the sand dunes and blistering sun of the Dakar versus any temperature below a southwestern Ontario July at noon. For the Dakar Rally I would sauce-up a 1987 Suzuki Samurai and eat camel jerky and coffee beans for the entire 9,000 km route. In refinement terms, I hate road trips. I get headachey and anxious to walk or run the rest of the way. I’m okay for an hour, but beyond that I am lulled to sleep. Realistically, I would actually prefer to run the Dakar Rally route.

Iditarod? At a mere 1,850 km, the race would be over before it even started I suppose. I would definitely need someone to lace up my boots in the morning because I hate cold hands. I would also need a whiskey barrel, not just a flask around my neck. And I would feel too sorry for the dogs. Practicality rating? Zero.

Cake Decorator

Long before Cake Boss sucked viewers (like me) into watching a reality show about bitchy bakers baking cakes, I wanted to pipe buttercream icing and make fondant cake castles. I’ve actually never baked a cake in my life. Correction: I did make a mango cheesecake for Kim once, and it was surprisingly as it should be. I decided to end my career on a high note. Besides, in my perfect cake decorator world, someone else would be doing the actual cake-baking part anyway. My reality? I would refuse to wear the stupid chef hat or non-hair-do-friendly hair net.

Travel Writer

In the works, always. Stay tuned. Belize in February!

Massage Therapist

Well, I haven’t crossed it off the list yet. Almost 13 years strong, it was a profession I thought I would do and be since I was 20. I get to work in syrupy serenity, speak in a spa voice and everyone looks forward to seeing me–sometimes for weeks in advance. I “work” in a smashing spa that pulsates with zen. The air is permeated by the sweet orange and ginger tang of the body scrubs and sensual aromatherapy oils. It’s my job to induce relaxation. Which makes my job description exactly the same as a bottle of wine.

Now, that’s refinement.

“It’s snowing, INSIDE our room!”

“Do you want to have the camel stew in our room, or on the terrace?”

“What if we put the roasted marshmallows between the peanut butter granola bars?”

The best hotels we slept in this year were as opposite as the temperatures and the landscapes we were in. From slipping into the sausage-casing-like sub-zero sleeping bags at the Hotel de Glace (Ice Hotel) in Quebec (indoor temp: -3 degrees Celsius) to feeling like we were in a rotisserie in the Siwa Oasis, Egypt (average daytime temperature in the desert? 46 degrees Celsius.)

Easily swinging between five star, no stars and shooting stars at our campsite on the shores of Lake Erie, these were the best sleeps we had this year.

Hotel de Glace, Quebec

How to build an ice hotel from scratch? Begin with 15,000 tons of snow and 500 tons of ice. Just 10 minutes from Quebec’s city centre, the Ice Hotel is like sleeping in a child’s dream. Each room features elaborate carvings and furniture sculpted from ice in the style of Dr. Seuss meets Edward Scissorhands.

After prowling around all 36 rooms (guests and the public are allowed to have a sneak peek during the day), choosing the premium suite with the fireplace was a brilliant move. The cheapest rooms are generic and budget-looking with no wall carvings or mood lighting. They look like amateur attempts at igloo building. Like ice hostels. For the extra dollars (really, how many times are you going to sleep in an ice hotel anyway?) go big.  If you want to go even bigger, there’s a premium deluxe theme suite with its own private hot tub. Now that’s red carpet. Bigger yet? Get married in the Ice Hotel’s wedding chapel–you’ll be guaranteed to have cold feet for sure.

The famed Ice Bar (one of two bars in the hotel) serves up Caribou (mulled red wine or port with whiskey and maple syrup) in a square glass fancily chiselled out of ice. This winter, the cavernous bar was transformed into a frozen underwater sanctuary with life-size whales, sharks and beady-eyed fish lurking overhead. The biodiversity theme stretched into the suites with elaborate feathers and frogs etched deep into the ice walls. Ambient uplighting and ice chandeliers added unexpected warmth to the frigid frontier. As though you were walking through the middle of fallen aurora borealis.

I thought we might perish in the night due to hypothermia, but, staying submerged in the “Nordic Relaxation Area” of steaming outdoor hot tubs and a sauna that looked like a giant whiskey barrel was a savvy survival tactic. The Celsius Pavilion also offered a warmer clime to regain feeling in numb feet, and to cradle wine without mitts by the fire.

And yes, the bed is made of ice! Buried in furs and hides and thermal sleeping bags with a real fire at the foot of your bed, you’ll barely take notice. Maybe, in the morning, when snow is gently falling inside the room through the small fireplace flue opening, you will remember that you’re sleeping in an igloo.

For the anxious:  When you book a night at the Hotel de Glace, you also have full access to a room at the Sheraton Four Points (a 10 minute shuttle from the Ice Hotel).  Guests check in at the Sheraton first as access to your room at the Ice Hotel isn’t an option until 9pm (after you have taken the strict and comical orientation of How to Survive the Night and More Importantly, How to Get Into Your Sleeping Bag).  One New York couple opted to take the 24-hour shuttle back to the Sheraton, finding the -3 temperatures a bit too disturbing. Others simply crashed out on the couches in the Celsius. Cheaters.

*The Sheraton is rather remote, so you will be forced into eating at the semi-posh hotel resto, Le Dijon, unless you order in from the slim selection of pizza & chicken wing joints or taxi into “town.” The French Onion soup is warming but not enough. And the scallops come in a shot glass with a blade of grass. Not really, but, close.

You can also place delivery orders from the Ice Hotel, and the Celsius Pavilion has a snack bar leaning more towards sugary fare and the likes of hot cocoa. Better yet, pack your own snacks and booze. And Hot Shots for your boots. And Fireball whiskey.

The 2012 theme is Northern Quebec and First Nations North. Open January 6^th—March 25^th, 2012.

Cha-ching: Room rates begin at $200/person including use of sleeping bag, welcome cocktail and breakfast at Le Dijon

http://julestorti.wordpress.com/2011/03/09/the-cold-shoulder-a-night-at-the-ice-hotel-in-quebec/

http://www.hoteldeglace-canada.com/reservation.php?action=promo

Al Babenshal, Siwa Oasis, Egypt

There was no need for a bell hop. We had a donkey named Ali Baba!

Our accommodations at the Al-Babenshal were suitable for the likes of William and Kate. The hotel is attached to the 13^th-century Shali fortress with traditional wooden shuttered windows and exposed palm-log supports. The light fixtures are carved from salt blocks and give the room, a true respite, a buttery glow. Now, this is romantic!

Getting there is a battle, as is leaving Siwa. By that I mean, once you find yourself in the cool wonder of the lodge, you begin re-thinking your itinerary, scheming how you might be able to stay longer. The bus from Cairo is a 10-hour nightmare, sardined into a bus that was colder than the inside of the Ice Hotel. The bus  driver stops at military check-points, for seemingly hourly mint tea and other unknown reasons.

But, back to Al Babenshal. The breakfast is one to linger over. The sour-sweet two-punch of lime juice, kicker coffee, eggs that have never arrived faster or fluffier and pita bread with fig preserves is satiating and greed-inducing.

At night, dinner is served on the terrace (daytime temps would leave Canadian skin sizzling like back bacon). We ordered the much-talked about camel stew with slight reservations, but, it seemed necessary and worldly of us.

The stew was the most sensational thing I’ve eaten. Exhausted and delirious from our midday trek into the dunes, sand sauna bath and hot spring immersion, that night on the terrace illuminated the rest of our stay in Egypt.

The Al-Babenshal staff are attentive and kindly allowed us to dominate their computer at reception to send hurried “we are alive” message back home. The room was bigger than my entire apartment with a sexy shower, a day bed, an adobe-style hearth and many vantage points to watch the slow movement of the world outside. In front of the hotel, whole chickens are roasted in old oil drums. The smell of fire and smoking chicken is intoxicating, and so was the fig moonshine we discovered.

Unfortunately the hotel doesn’t have its own web presence. It’s listed in Lonely Planet, and we were able to book it via expedia. If we were to return to Egypt? We would go directly to Siwa Oasis and spend our nights at Al Babenshal. Maybe even ask for jobs in the kitchen.

*Donkey tours of Siwa can be arranged simply by walking outside the hotel. There are several hot and cold springs nearby. Do find someone to take you to see the sunrise on the salt lakes. This image will never leave your soul.

Cha-ching: $130 US for two nights, $7 for fig moonshine

The Gladstone Hotel, Toronto

You don’t need to sleep in an igloo or in a hotel attached to a 13^th century desert fortress to be wowed and spoiled though. Located on the hipster haven stretch of Toronto’s Queen West, the Gladstone proved to be an indulgent spontaneous romp, just 15 minutes from my Annex apartment. It’s accessible by subway even!

Built in 1889, it’s Toronto’s oldest continuously operating hotel.  In 2005, social and urban visionary, Christina Zeidler, eager to keep the bones of the Victorian hotel intact, enlisted a wolf pack of local artists to re-design the 37 rooms.  They are a mash-up of vibrant palettes, faux-fur textures, dream sequences, nostalgia and romance.

There’s an iPod docking station, complimentary fitness facility use at 99 Sudbury, locally sourced snacks, wi-fi, cable, sleek flat screens, functioning windows, high ceilings and exposed brick. The classic rooms ($165, shower-only, no bathtub) are a tight 170 square feet (unless you top out with the suites at $375-$475 per night).

Check out the Trading Post (our spot– “rural vs. urban luxury”) and for a lark, the Teen Queen: “Think purple gingham, wild horses, crimped hair, frosted lipstick, Teen Beat posters and unicorn love.” It’s a kitschy scream.

The hotel has two green roofs, a zero plastic water bottle policy and uses 90% non-toxic cleaners. The amenities include Tic-Tac-sized soap bars that look like tiny pieces of art in themselves sourced from a local farmer in Prince Edward County. Coffee is delivered to your door in the morning at the time you request. Lazy sleep-ins are permitted, and you need only slide down the wooden banister or take the old-school hand-operated Otis elevator for a pint and live music. Huge hang-over helper breakfasts are dished out downstairs too. Or, hold out for the noon bacon & cheddar burger, as it should be.

The Gladstone Melody Bar and Ballroom is an also an attractive venue that hosts live comedy, weddings, karaoke,burlesque, indie film screenings, art exhibits and deep chats with authors.

It’s local, zany and Toronto rite of passage.

Cha-ching: $160+/night plus champagne to set the mood

http://www.gladstonehotel.com

Media Luna Resort and Spa, Roatan, Honduras

Sometimes throwing caution (and money) to the wind can also net you a remarkable surprise. Travellers seeking the healing powers of sea salt and fiery sunsets in Roatan, Honduras can opt for the Roatan Roulette.  If you are indecisive or generally feeling Switzerland on where to stay on the island, the roulette is a cool way to have the decision made for you. The all-inclusive properties range from 3 to 4 star: Henry Morgan Hotel and Beach Resort, Paradise Beach Club, Infinity Bay Spa & Beach Resort, Mayan Princess, Las Sirenas Hotel and Condo, or the new darling, Media Luna Resort and Spa.

When you book the roulette, you pay a set price and find out three days before departure where you’ll be setting up beach base camp.

The Media Luna property was an automatic additional $250 more than the others, and its isolation, swank cabanas and intimate feel were largely seductive. I didn’t want rum-soaked nights (rum-soaked days were okay) or the thumpa-thumpa-thumpa of ratty discos or activity-centric staff pulling me off my chaise lounge.

I wanted a long pier, grilled seafood as many times a day as possible, uninterrupted recreational reading, remotely cold beer, a killer view and a stunning room. This is exactly what I got.

I hoped for Media Luna Eco Lodge and the roulette spun in my favour.

There are 126 bungalows with private decks, sleek open concept glass showers, bidets and billowing canopy poster beds. It’s high romance and the best retreat for those who are happy to close the door on nightlife. The decks and Adirondack chairs along the beachfront property that overhang the surf are necessary mooring points.

*The resort is remote and taxis are prohibitive in cost. Rental cars are available, mostly standard—but the landscape is winding and hilly. The “beach” is not one that you’ll stroll along hand-in-hand. Roatan was famous with pirates who loved to hide their ships in its coves. The inlet at Media Luna allows for accessible and incredible snorkeling around the rocky perch, but not romantic sunset walks. Whale shark watching tours, diving, scuba lessons, snorkel equipment rental and other day trips can be arranged directly at the hotel through the Sunwing rep. Of special note: they sell postcards at the airport but no stamps.

Cha-ching: $1,411 (travel time: last week of February), $20 for beers and lobster quesadillas in the West End

http://julestorti.wordpress.com/tag/roatan/

Long Point Provincial Park, Turtle Dunes Campground, Long Point, Ontario

And, there’s something to be said for the restorative fulfillment of camping in the sand dunes on the shores of Lake Erie. Yes, I love five stars but I also love five billion stars above my head.

Firewood, a pack of wieners, a cooler of beer, some marshmallows and insect repellant have the makings of a spontaneous weekend. Far from the grinding construction and hum of the city, falling to sleep amongst tall stands of trembling aspens strips away all that clutter we carry in our working minds. Waking to chatty songbirds, reeling seagulls and climbing a dune to watch the whitecaps push in is a very spoiled way to enjoy your first cup of coffee.

Long Point is a 40km sandpit that is like a birder’s cocaine. Recognized as a biosphere reserve by United Nations, the dunes are my top camping spot—and a favoured stop-over for migratory birds as well.

There are 256 campsites (75 with electrical hook-up if that’s the way you roll). Fifty-two sites in Firefly are pull-through if you have something to pull-through, like a sleek Airstream I guess. There’s a Laundromat, park store (firewood, marshmallows, fly swatters, ice), canoe and bike rentals, and surprisingly hot showers.

I won’t divulge our Best Kept Secret location, but, you can find your own. The Ontario Parks site allows you to virtually explore the campground and specifics of the site like whether it’s shady or windy. There are also thumbnail pictures of the sites. Many of the Long Point sites closest to the beach are in the sand which makes for a sandy tent and car, but, is our favoured choice.

*Due to devastating beetle infestations, you are no longer allowed to bring in outside firewood. The park store has an ample supply but, the supply we bought was wet. We smoked out our neighbours for three hours until brilliantly trading half a bag of marshmallows for half a pre-fab sawdust fire log that helped kick-start our lame non-fire.

Further advice: Stop at the Burning Kiln Winery (http://www.burningkilnwinery.ca/) on your way through Norfolk County and buy a bottle of Strip Room. Pairing roasted marshmallows properly is a very serious thing.

Cha-ching: $26-35/night for non-electric sites, $25 for bottle of Burning Kiln wine, $25 in marshmallows, wood & wieners

https://reservations.ontarioparks.com/LongPoint/TurtleDunes?Map

So, where will you sleep first?

After this comb over, we were asked to check the Alexa rating of each, which is a web information system that identifies internet traffic stats and metrics. The site where you can find out that .000043 of global internet users visit your blog. Wow!

The final task involved setting up a Twitter account and an additional profile on another platform such as Stumbleupon, Digg or Reddit (insert groan and nauseating feeling of hypertonic trapezius muscles here).

So…

Five Blogs

Having just pounced upon expedia.ca sell-off flights to Belize for February, investigating blogs with a bull’s eye on manatees, quetzels, cashew wine, Ambergris and Caye Caulker seemed obvious. Finding five Belize blogs wasn’t an issue. Google matches revealed a strong presence of blogging expats, some even hawking promotional blog fan t-shirts and hats. However, the format, granny-friendly font and garage-sale advert clutter of most Belize blog pages led me elsewhere.

I decided to examine the blogs that I am already attracted and dedicated to.

Clearly, the strength of a blog’s writing is the magnetic force for me. The content can range from surviving the Burning Man Festival, Oregon’s best microbrews to chimp rescue stories to how to make sushi rolls out of mac n’ cheese. Similar to my writing force field, I read in the same manner. All over the map.

What I know for sure?

I refuse to read white script on black background, or blogs that have been brushed with too much Hollywood (flashing widgets, WIN THIS! and running scripts). I find danger in too many hyperlinks within the text. Like a magpie that spies something shiny, I too have been known to fly off, distracted, clicking a hyperlink to another page, never to return again. (Which means you are NOT allowed to divert from my page to discover my go-to blogs below. An alarm will sound.)

What appeals?

Clean lines. White space. Simplicity. Seductive, high resolution photos and engaging writing that meshes with my interests, or musings that spark interest, unplanned longer runs in the rain, another glass of wine, deeper conversation and restless sleeps.

Writers that mesh and spark:

Andrew Westoll

An automatic network emerges among those who have worked with primates. I was initially virtually introduced to Andrew via a friend in Suriname who thought we might like to share and compare our Jane Goodal-esque love and chimp sanctuary volunteer experiences. His body of work is humble and honest, showcasing the grit of a writer’s life and hope in chimpanzee crusades. A former primatologist, sometimes CBC Radio One science columnist, sometimes vodka expert, the author of The Riverbones and The Chimps of Fauna Sanctuary writes intelligently here:

http://www.andrewwestoll.com/    Alexa: 13,226,465

Brene Brown–Ordinary Courage

With a PhD tucked up her sleeve, the University of Houston Research Professor poses big questions about vulnerability, courage and authenticity in a smart and accessible way. She made her rounds on Facebook in a viral way with her TED video (Ideas Worth Spreading) on the power of vulnerability. She captivates and enlarges a sentence in a remarkable way. And, I might just copycat her sidebar that spotlights what she’s listening to and what’s on her nightstand. It makes Brene Brown a little more 3D to me.

http://www.ordinarycourage.com/    Alexa: 256,306

Ryan Coelho

We were both shortlisted for a prized travel writer internship position with G Adventures in Toronto and I admired his rock solid empowerment and personal brand from the get go. He is a former aerospace engineer turned brand & marketing strategist and leadership coach. I gravitate towards his writing because he adheres to his blog mantra when he posts: Dream. Explore. Discover. Inspire.  He is also consistent with his brand via Facebook and Twitter and has a graphically tidy and splashy site:

http://ryancoelho.com/    Alexa:  7,379,662

A Bus Called Forward

A mutual friend in Mexico thought Keph (Matador U alumni) and I would get on like a house on fire with our shared passions. He thought our writing had a similar slant and groove. I was flattered and became hooked on A Bus Called Forward. Keph’s photos will transport you to everywhere she has been in a blink and her succinct words fill in the textures, temperature and tastes.

“When she was 28 years old and I was only 5, my mother bought a renovated 1950s school bus and named it Forward. We left Toronto in the spring, driving westward towards the Pacific. Her incomprehensible plan was to drive to New Zealand but Forward blew a radiator hose in the mountains in the interior of British Columbia. Ever pragmatic, my mother sold the bus for $500 and a wheelbarrow, and started a garden. I haven’t stopped moving, but my mother’s still there, still gardening.”

http://www.abuscalledforward.com/   Alexa: 4,315,987

Julia Dimon: The Travel Junkie

A few years ago I was velcroed to an OLN (Outdoor Life Network) program called Word Travels that followed two scrappy travel writers pitching and landing gigs as fast as their planes around the world. Firecracker co-host Julia Dimon has visited 80 countires on all 7 continents. She is hopeful, insightful and a writing dynamo. Her site is glossy, enviable and the ultimate time-sucker. In a good way.

http://juliadimon.com/julia/blog.php  Alexa: 4,611,331

About the Alexa Ratings

My blog currently perches at 3,206,262 in worldwide blog rankings. Is this good? How many jellybeans in the jar does that equal? This does not change my life in any way. Do I really care that 3.55% of visitors keyed in “he farted in a hermetically sealed suit” and were led to my blog? Did I ever mention farting in a hermetically sealed suit? Should I take note that high impact search queries were tagged on the following terms: cat crap coffee, chips with gravy, bug bite soup, rotten confessions, Czech beer and chocolate covered marshmallows?

The Alexa rating serves a purpose to someone, but, it won’t influence my writing enough to narrow my niche to farts and marshmallows.

About Twitter, Stumbleupon, Digg, Reddit

I just can’t. I can’t be responsible for another social platform. I feel like I’m trying to barf up content in too many places already. Facebook obligations alone have angry “friends” upset with my lack of communication (interpreted as “ignored”). I drop off the face of Facebook for a few days to enjoy life as it was before the Techno Whore Wave of the 2000’s and I am berated. I can barely remain verbally active on Twitter. I refuse to Tweetchat or Twitpic. I don’t want to Stumbleupon anything else, there are enough viral videos and cuddly kittens and tsunami dog love stories on Facebook.

If shunning more social media platforms will be the detriment of my writing career, I’m okay with that. I’m not Twitter-friendly enough because I don’t have a cell phone. And I don’t have one for a reason. I would disconnect my home phone if I could. I never check my home phone messages when I’m at work, or away—mostly because I don’t know how to, but also because I don’t need to. I’m not that important, and socialites have to move in mysterious ways sometimes.

So what?

Social media is an accessory, not a necessity in my life. It has its place like shortbread for breakfast, Kobe beef and champagne. I can’t do it all the time. I will commit to my blog, the established blog writers that stretch my static thoughts, to intermittent Twittering and near-daily smartass Facebook updates.

That’s it.

I already collect receipts like a magpie gathers shiny objects. I’ve been an independent contractor for a dozen years and have every bloody receipt from hot air balloon rides to a single banana for .26 cents from the fruit market on Front street. I am my very own spending app.

Determining my monthly expenses was something I already had documented, and this is a sample October (coincidentally this October)–

Rent: $1,180 for posh Annex pad, plus $38 apartment insurance

Utilities: Included (thank god, because I do love to keep Florida-type temperatures with my gas fireplace).

Phone/WiFi:  Old-school home phone with long distance plan $39.33/month, WiFi included in rent.

Food/Booze: $180.43 for groceries, $152.50 for red wine cellar stocking, import beer sampling and a bottle of champagne, just because.

Restos/Bars: $166.21 (includes swishy, boozy dinner at Byzantium to celebrate brother’s PhD, take-out pad Thai & green mango salad, spring rolls for two, a chicken, swiss & bacon panini from La Prep, bacon and cheddar stuffed waffles with baked beans at The Starving Artist and two egg salad sandwiches with two cold tall boys at the club house of my dad’s golf course)

Entertainment: $68.59 includes movie rentals (High Cost of Living, Tree of Life), Jann Arden’s memoir Falling Backwards and new CD Uncover Me 2 and nine new iTunes purchases

Travel costs:  $82 for lazy and/or late-night subway rides, and four roundtrip GO train tickets to visit gorgeous suburban girlfriend

Health:   $200.50 for broken dental retainer replacement, even with generous discount from dentist friend

Coffee-to-go:  $34.73 (which equates 11 medium drips at Jimmy’s , four orange zest & sea salt or date citrus bran muffins and a Le Gourmand chocolate chip walnut cookie at $2.36 each).

Extras:  Massage Registration Renewal: $560, Matador U tuition: $315 US, tanning bed package: $85.88

Whopping October Expenses Total: $3,103.17

So, if I quit my semi-lucrative job as a massage therapist right now I, hold on, can’t breathe, having panic attack! Deep breath. One more deep breath. Yeah, it’s not realistic.

I’ve written a few book reviews for The Vancouver Sun and know that they pay out $150 for 700-word reviews. Could I do 20 book reviews in a month?

If I won the ROOM annual fiction contest, that would give me a quick $500. And if I could turn around and win the Writers’ Union Writing For Children Competition, I could net another $1,500 (and I would still have to do seven book reviews).

Other sources of income? The Matador Network pays $30-50 an article. So, if I wrote 100 posts a month, I’d almost break even. Canadian Running pays out $100 for 600-800 words.  I could do 90 hours of ad copy for the spa I worked at on the west coast, charging $35/hour, which would cover all their ad copy needs for the next 50 years. Erotica anthologies offer $50 a story and two copies of the book. Which I could then in turn, review for the Sun.  Surely I could come up with 62 unique sizzling sex plots!

Which leads me to thinking that a wiser solution to all this would be to commit a small crime, serve some jail time and lose all my expenses for a few months and write a book in a jail cell. If I was extremely diligent with my time, I could possibly complete a degree too, in between learning the art of tattooing and bench pressing, and come out way ahead after my sentence.

However, I love my girlfriend too-co-dependently-much to live in prison. So, if I crunch the numbers again and estimate earning $25 minimum per post, I would need to write 124 articles a month. Which makes me throw up in my mouth a little until I use the division sign on the calculator and realize that 124 articles a month means 31 articles a week, which equals an output of 6 articles a day.

Can it be done? Probably. I might have to design new business cards promoting my new handle: Laptop Dancer. But the suffering, the strife? (Insert dramatic moaning here).

Or, I cut the fat: Import beer at $13/6-pack, smoked gouda cheese $8 (for a mousetrap amount), Terra Chips for $4.99 a bag, those fancy pants Leslie Stowe Rain Coast Crisp crackers at $6.99, no more bottles of red over $10 (boo), no more choice deli meats (goodbye rosemary ham and prosciutto, hello bologna). Instead of the $2 coffee reprieve I find on my spa breaks at Jimmy’s, I could drink water, bite my nails and stare at my co-workers. I could give up $10 gourmet hot dogs at Fusia Dog, carrot cake whoopee cookies, pulled pork sandwiches, movie rentals and gently used books. Instead I could make my own flour biscuits like a pioneer, pirate movies on my laptop, write my own book while sleeping and use my library card (which I won’t have time for anyway because I’ll be reading 20 books a month for my meagre income).

To save more money, I could stop saving money and hope for a philanthropist to step into my life so I wouldn’t have to rely on my RSP account. Instead of tanning I could mix Kraft Dinner cheese powder with a little water and apply that to my skin during the winter months. I’d have to give up Aveeno for sure, because the soothing oat essence and shea butter are like covering my body in beluga caviar on a daily basis.

Instead of drinking red wine or beer and enjoying myself with loved ones on a Friday night, we could sip on apple juice and play simple card games, discuss our feelings in a sober, grown-up way and make tiny origami birds out of newspaper.

I could eat Mr.Noodles, heads of iceberg lettuce and radishes, because they are relatively cheap. Instead of my premium trail mix with cashews and Smarties in it, I could raid bird feeders in the Annex for free sunflower seeds and peanuts.

Better yet, while procuring trail mix from bird feeders, I could look for missing cockatiels and budgies for owners offering huge reward money to supplement my 20 monthly book reviews.

Yes, it is possible! Who knew it was so simple to be a freelance writer! Why didn’t I quit my job before?

Gorilla trek in Bwindi Impenetrable Park. Check.

Sunrise hot air balloon over The Valley of the Kings. Check.

Blue footed boobies eating my fries. Check.

Getting published in National Geographic….(insert pause here)

Now what? Doing the “do” is easy. Writing about it all is even easier. Beyond the blog posts where we hold our friends and family members captive, and a few coincidental visitors from Google search term matches, there’s a larger audience out there. But those drinking Cristal with feet dangling off a private Bora Bora cabana aren’t necessarily interested in bed bug horror stories  and features on how to survive on gallo pinto (rice and black beans) for a month in Costa Rica. And travelers with lean bank accounts and Hostel International cards aren’t so keen on five diamond Trump International Hotel reviews about suites being painted shades of champagne and caviar.

Just like the editors of such magazines. So, get the vibe. Prowl the sites and pages of where you think you want to be published. When you begin writing about what you know best, that authentic voice finds an audience.

Here are 10 blogs and mags that jive with my style of travel and voice.

1. Tripadvisor.ca “The World’s Most Trusted Travel Advice”

http://www.tripadvisor.ca/

$$$$: Although Tripadvisor doesn’t pay for reviews, I feel like it’s a way of giving back, for all the insider info I’ve grabbed from their site in the past.

Vibe: Dishes out the guts and glory of hotels, holiday rentals, attractions and restaurants. The site allows researching travelers to interact with review writers.

Bonus: Tripadvisor rewards reviewers who earn “Helpful Votes” (from readers)and post frequent reviews with special promotions like free Shutterfly photo books.

Deal: No quoted material is allowed and trips must have occurred within a year of submission (within 2 years for vacation rentals).  

Here’s a review I did of the Gately Inn in Jinja, Uganda: http://www.tripadvisor.ca/ShowUserReviews-g480250-d618965-r34932918-Gately_on_the_Nile-Jinja.html#UR34932918

2. In Transit Blog, The New York Times “A Guide to Intelligent Travel”

http://intransit.blogs.nytimes.com/

Who? Monica Drake, Deputy Travel Editor (modrak@nytimes.com)

$$$$: $50/300 words

Vibe: breaking travel industry news and trends, focus on events, festivals, shows and exhibitions happening in major cities

Deal: Proposing three clear ideas instead of one in query letter, include resume and a timeline of how quickly you can produce your proposed story. Writers are encouraged to follow up once or twice.

3.The Huffington Post, Travel Vertical

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/travel/

$$$$: None. Just pride and bragging rights.

Who?:  Kate Auletta, Travel Editor

Vibe: Huffpost-ish. Smart writing with Caribbean Sea clarity.

Deal: “Have people shoot me an email to travel@huffingtonpost.com with what they write about and where they have traveled, their writing experience, etc. and we can go from there.” (Source: blogger Chris Around the World’s Q&A with Kate: http://caroundtheworld.com/2010/07/20/q-and-a-with-huffington-posts-new-travel-editor-kate-auletta/)

4. Toronto Star Travel Section

http://www.thestar.com/travel

Who?: Jim Byers, Editor Phone: 416-869-4877 Fax: 416-865-3635 Email: travel@thestar.ca

Vibe: Weekend coffee-shop drinking material for vicarious armchair-wishers and attainable travel for families and couples seeking thrills with reliable comforts. Cruising, skiing, weekend getaways, spa

$$$$: Ask Jim!

Deal: Pitch all over the map as the travel section hits all types of travelers from cruising the Danube, all-inclusive stays, “Getting the Country Groove On in Nashville” to a southern Ontario getaway in Stratford.

5. FIDO Friendly

http://www.fidofriendly.com/

Who?: Susan Sims, Publisher

$$$$:  Pays $0.10/word

Vibe: Have dog, will travel? “FIDO Friendly is a niche publication and the only magazine dedicated to the Travel & Lifestyle of man’s best friend. Each bimonthly issue includes hotel and destination reviews along with health & wellness topics, pet training advice and the latest fashion trends for Fido.”

Deal: 90% freelance. Welcomes new writers. Circulation 45K. Bimonthly. Pays on publication. Period between acceptance and publication varies. Buys first rights. Accepts reprints. Responds 1-2 weeks.

6. The Expeditioner

http://www.theexpeditioner.com/

Who?: Matt Stabile matt.stabile@theexpeditioner.com

$$$$: Compensation is commensurate upon experience

Vibe: “It’s important to make sure the pitch/submission fits the site. There are a number of topics that we either make fun of or absolutely will never write about on the site, and we’re not going to publish a story on them no matter how good the pitch/submission is. These include, in no particular order: Cruises, Samantha Brown, Luxury Hotels, Cancun, Travel Insurance, Money Belts, Indianapolis, Family Destinations, and anything that includes the word “Disney.””

Deal: 1,000-1,300 word first-person narratives. Be interesting, informative and inspiring. Send manuscripts on spec.

7. Travelers’ Tales

http://www.travelerstales.com/guidelines/

$$$$: $100 honorarium for non-exclusive world rights (you can sell it again wherever and whenever you want)

Vibe: Anthology. “We’re looking for personal, nonfiction stories and anecdotes-funny, illuminating, adventurous, frightening, or grim. Stories should reflect that unique alchemy that occurs when you enter unfamiliar territory and begin to see the world differently as a result. Please include a few sentences about yourself, something quirky and fun in addition to the usual list of accomplishments. Length: Whatever it takes without being self-indulgent-anything from a paragraph to fifteen pages. Shorter stories have a better chance of being accepted. Be sure to paginate your stories.

*We no longer accept submissions via email or regular mail. All submissions must be made through our submissions intake site: travelerstalesstories.com

Deal: In the spirit of our women’s humor books we’re calling for submissions for Leave the Iguana, Take the Mascara: Funny travel stories and strange packing tips to be published in 2012. Send us your best wacky stories and join in the fun. Deadline for submission: OPEN Est. Release Date: 2012

What Color Is Your Jockstrap? got lots of laughs, so we’re seeking funny stories for another volume. The book will include stories from both women and men. No length restrictions but for humor, shorter is usually better. Deadline for submission: OPEN Est. Release Date: TBA

8. Best Travel Writing Solas Awards

http://www.besttravelwriting.com/submit/

Who?: Sponsored by Travelers’ Tales

$$$$: $1,000 first prize, $750 second, $500 third

Deal: Got the best travel story of the year? Entry fee of $20 for the first two optional categories, $5 for each additional category for the same story. All stories are automatically submitted for the Grand Prize at no additional charge (thus, when you choose your two “optional categories” you will be entered in three, your two choices and the Grand Prize category). If we choose to publish a story in one of our Travelers’ Tales books, we will pay our usual honorarium of $100 for non-exclusive world rights.

*The current competition runs from September 22, 2011 to September 21, 2012

9. blogTO

http://www.blogto.com/

$$$$: Pride and gushing. Smiling mom.

Vibe: Do you live, swirl, sip, snack and tread Toronto sidewalks? This is the “hyper-local”resource for locals and non, wanting to find out where the best of all that is ours is at. Events, museums, muzak, festivals, hot dogs, sneak previews. Whatever makes Toronto hum is hinted at here.

Deal: “Write a review. Have a great or terrible dining or shopping experience lately? Let us know about it by sending us a review. Aim for between 250-500 words and include good quality original photos (sized to 590 pixels wide). No photos? Unfortunately we won’t be able to post it as a review, but that shouldn’t stop you from adding it as a comment on the site.”

10. XTRA! Toronto, Canada’s Gay & Lesbian News

www.xtra.ca

$$$$: not posted

Who: Brandon Matheson, Publisher & Editor-in-chief

Vibe: It’s gay, baby! Travel tips for gay travelers, coupled and singles, bears to nudists. Gay-positive destinations, circuit parties,gay family cruises, Pride festivals, world gay film fests and the like.

Deal: Accepts book excerpts, essays, interview/profile, opinion, personal experience, travel

Whew. See, writing is the easiest part. It’s the market research that should earn us honorary degrees! Let me know if this cheat sheet helped. Networking is a writer’s skeleton.

If you are of Canadian stock (maybe even American), and of the 70s-80s wonder years, you probably have a soft spot for the highly anticipated “Hot Dog Days” of yore. It was the brightest highlight of my elementary school years next to Blue Baby séances held in the dark of the change room after phys-ed.

This I remember as clear as my grade three complexion: pillowy steamed buns (sometimes overly steamed), boiled wieners that hung out the bun ends, and the staple condiments that invariably ended up on 20 out of 30 t-shirts and laps– mustard as bright as the sun, generic ketchup and green relish (which received the same sneer as caviar, Dijon or Brussel sprouts might from those under 10).

I also recall the awe and envy as teachers called out the confirmation numbers of how many hot dogs we would like to order (what were they? Twenty-five cents? ). Jeff Kellam and Corey Roberts always ordered three. Three hotdogs! Imagine! They were no epicurean delight, but there was an unmatchable thrill found in the anticipation for Hot Dog Day. It was an event!

I recently read Jann Arden’s memoir Falling Backwards and was nearly falling backwards out of my club chair as I read about her hot dog episode in grade school.

“I unscrewed the top of my Thermos and couldn’t figure out what I was looking at. I could see a beige bubble looking out at me. I poked at it with my finger and it hardly moved. What was it? I got out my pencil and stabbed at the thing, still not knowing what to make of what was in there. It turned out the wiener had absorbed all the water and had expanded into every possible bit of space in the Thermos. I had to pull out the wiener piece by piece with my pencil and put the pieces into my bun. My mom swears to this day she never put a wiener into my Thermos.”

 My mother tried to recreate the same Hot Dog Day experience by sending us to school with surprise hot dogs packed in Thermoses. Once.  Although, unlike Jann’s mom who wrapped the bun separately, my mom put the whole enchilada (errr, the whole hot dog, although I’m sure the same result would have happened with an enchilada) into the Thermos. The bun was like wet oatmeal, falling off the bloated wiener in big damp dough clumps with every bite.

Until now, it seems as though hot dogs were banished to those nostalgic grade school days where the entire school smelled like a woodsy armpit for three days after boiling 500 wieners. A lot of childhood birthday parties showcased hot dogs (and even worse, money cakes, but that’s another story), and were the backyard barbeque option for kids who couldn’t possibly eat an entire grown-up friendly burger.

In the Annex, there are always three or four whippet-thin students queued up for dogs and split sausages, regardless of the hour. For the rest of us non-students, “street meat” seems to be reserved for anytime after 2 am when a veggie dog or Bratwurst acts as the Hangover Helper sponge for the student-style drinking that took place earlier in the night.

And now? Hot dogs are the new black. They have pushed out all those annoying “deconstructed” things, the downtown burrito war, pulled pork poutine and cutesy Angus beef sliders with three pretentious condiment treatments.

The Grid’s Food Spy just dished it today in “Who let the dogs out?” Ironically, pre-Grid pick-up, I stopped for a Fusia Dog (65 Duncan Street) on my way home. It’s been on my must-have list for a good two months, when I first heard that Dinah Koo was opening up her wiener wonderland on Duncan, just south of Queen in the Crumbs column of The Grid.

Karon Liu (Food Spy) gave a 5 Wiener Dog rating to Fusia. This is serious! Other contenders were Umi Sushi Express who “pimp their franks with teriyaki sauce, sautéed onions and bonito flakes”—dried, fermented skipjack tuna flakes–mmmmm).  Little Dog’s Montreal  steamies on College were sent to the dog house with the hot dog stands. The Stockyards (699 St.Clair Ave) gained momentum with pork crackling and pimento cheese “accessories.” And, the Real Sports Bar earned 4 Wiener Dogs for Brian Burke’s (Leafs GM) $13 heart-defibrillating poutine-sunk franks.

Fusia Dog is the latest light bulb of Dinah Koo (of Dinah’s Cupboard fame in Yorkville).  Her knives have been thrown in many directions—as manager of Ace Bakery and a duet with Pie Pastry Princess Wanda Beaver at Wanda’s In the Kitchen. There was also her Tiger Lily Noodle House/Cafe venture on Queen West (a successful 10 year notch) and her springboard: catering to the swishy set in Rosedale in Forest Hill.

When I visited Fusia Dog today, both smiley staff insisted that because it was my first time, I should order the standard “Fusia Dog.” Topped with carrot daikon slaw, cilantro, sinus-searing wasabi mayo and kimchi, the beef (or chicken) wiener found its best marriage in the Indian paratha flatbread it was wrapped in. For $6.95 it has a sneaky spicy kapow and the flatbread doesn’t hog the flavour. It makes me want to have Hot Dog Day every week.

The Crisp Creamy dog will be my next visit pick. With dill pickles, cream cheese, scallions and fried pork belly, it’s already a shoo-in for me.  Third visit? The Boston with baked beans, crispy bacon, fried onions and cheddar. Note to self: add extra kilometre to daily run.

Japadog in Vancouver, BC is credited with kicking off the upscale hot dog race years ago. Their motto? “Making the world happy and alive through hotdogs.” Mustard and ketchup were kicked to the Burrard street curb in favour of wasabi, edamame, kimchi, miso and radish. The website menu descriptions offer a small roar:

“The Love Meat”

Luxurious melted cheese dish of meat sauce over crowded in a long time. This menu and grow rich taste of cheese is a popular source ranging from an adult child.

“Tonkatsu”

The signature dish fried pork exciting taste wrapped in a carefully selected clothing. Involving a popular hot dog sauce cabbage and cut thin.

“Gokudare”

Generously with sauce ultra-deep, and flavorful dish. Acidity of the sour flavor of Kraft and fried green laver, to further deepen the depth of flavor.

Japadog has also created a hot dog inspired desert called “Age Ice” (lost in translation I presume, with the cheese that appears to be sourced from an adult child). It consists of fried bread with melted ice cream (vanilla, black sesame, mango or strawberry). Does it get any better?

Where are we heading next? If we can buy cake on a lollipop stick (Starbucks wedding cake pops), macaroni and cheese sushi (“mock-i roll sushi”), duck poutine pizza, bacon marmalade and cornmeal muffins with entire hard-boiled eggs inside them—what next?

Better go for a dog walk today before hot dogs lose their Toronto de rigeur.

Japadog Vancouver (and now NY!): http://www.japadog.com/menu.html

Fusia Dog: http://fusiadog.com/

Make your own mock-i rolls: http://www.thefoodinmybeard.com/2009/04/macaroni-and-cheese-mock-i-rolls.html

When I think back to all our modes of transportation across Egypt, our donkey (and the hot air balloon) proved to be the most reliable.

After the exhausting frenetic pace of Cairo, we welcomed slowing the day down to donkey speed in the Siwa Oasis. We had no ambition to rent bikes as the heat barely allowed us to walk more than 10 minutes at a time without feeling like we might faint. And riding through sand? It would be like touring the town with two flat tires and a heart ready for a bypass. Besides, the careta (donkey cart) drivers were desperate for business and Mohammed insisted that he was the best. His powder-white speckled donkey, Ali Baba, was trustworthy and ready to work after a fig-heavy breakfast (three pounds worth!).

Mohammed was gentle with his donkey, guiding him with light brushes of a stick on his hindquarters, indicating right and left turns. To encourage him to “giddy up,” Mohammed made a clicking sound and we were off, a trail of desert dust in our wake. Apparently donkeys can match the speed of a horse, and Ali was a steady runner with enviably chiselled legs.

In Egypt, the donkey is the symbol of the God, Ra, and is highly respected. In 2003, the tombs of two of Egypt’s first pharaohs were excavated, revealing the skeletons of 10 donkeys. They were buried in a manner usually reserved for high ranking humans.

Donkeys have been used as pack animals for over 6,000 years. Folklore suggests that coming in contact with a donkey, or using hairs from the cross-shaped pattern on the donkey’s back, were used to cure whooping cough and measles. A Jewish physician in 1,000 AD believed that riding a donkey backwards would cure a scorpion sting. I hoped that we wouldn’t have to attempt either remedy.

Portrayed most often as stubborn asses (Eddie Murphy’s take on “Donkey” in Shrek) or as a melancholic loner in Winnie The Pooh (Eeyore), Ali Baba had his own distinct personality far from stubborn and sullen. True, he did voice his opinion as we let night fall, absently enjoying hot mint tea and conversation by Fatnas Island. His bray suggested that “just in case you forgot your watch, the sun has set, and I’d like to start heading back.”

Ali Baba made pulling the careta seem effortless, and if we did find ourselves in a sluggish section of “road,” where the sand was too loose for the cart to gain purchase, we hopped out, and sometimes gave a running push to help him along.

Ali Baba, illegally parked

Mohammed had pimped out the wooden cart with a tiny mirror, a Christmas tree-shaped air freshener, plush heart pillows, sun-bleached cushions and tacked up photos of tourists posing by his careta with Ali. The Polaroids had faded almost completely, with the faces nearly ghost-like, but the spirit of each traveller carried on in the animated stories he shared. Mohammed shyly told us that he would like to redecorate his cart. Once tourism picked up, he had several ideas as to how he would jazz up the interior. He talked about a cart that he admired, and how he would model his after it. His cart would be the talk of the town.

We logged a lot of hours in Ali Baba’s cart. Kim and I sat facing each other in the back, protected from the searing sun by a canopy finished with a pom pom fringe, with enough leg room that we only occasionally bumped knees. We toured all of Siwa, with Mohammed and Ali patiently waiting in the “shadows” (shade) as we explored the temples and tombs of the Mountain of the Dead. We stopped at Dakrur mountain, the spring of Cleopatra and soon became lost in the smooth rhythm of a day by donkey.

The night we returned late from the hot springs, stars had already taken their place in the sky. Nearing the market square, Ali let out a bray that startled us and in turn, made Mohammed laugh. Still clipping along at a canter, Ali continued his excited bray.

“What’s that all about? Did he see another donkey?” I asked.

Mohammed explained that they were close to his house, and that Ali thought his work was done for the day. I wanted to hop out and walk the rest of the way back to Al Babenshal Hotel so Ali could get to his figs and barley already. And take a load off.

On our last night in Siwa, Mohammed asked us to wait while he retrieved a copy of his address. I stood by Ali and massaged his neck. I had taken a horse massage course while I was out west, and knew all the sweet spots to hit on a horse’s neck. He leaned into the pressure with closed eyes. As I kneaded the contracted muscles at the base of Ali’s neck, I wondered how I could transition careers into a full-time donkey massage therapist.

Mohammed returned, boyishly grinning, as always. He handed photocopied sheets to Kim and I with his address in English and Arabic.

Name: Mohammed Soliman Baheeg

Address: Siwa Next to Hospital—Marsa Matrouh, Egypt.

This was his genuine address. Kim and I shook our heads and wondered why Canada Post had such difficulty in delivering packages on time, or at all.

We promised to send photos of us with Ali for his new 2012 cart. We embraced and said we would look for Mohammed when we returned in the future.

“I will be an old man, then. People don’t come back like they say. Not for many, many years.”

We watched as they turned around in the market square and headed back towards home. One day we would be one of those ghost-like faces tacked inside his cart. And I hoped that our story and time with Mohammed would live on longer than the ink in the photo. Indelibly.