What was your favourite country?

What was the craziest thing you did?

How many girls did you sleep with?

Did you do any drugs? Which ones?

What was the best thing to have happened to you? The worst?

Those are the questions I’ve been asked the most often since my return. And for every one of them, I tend to make up an answer, depending on who is asking. However, there is one other question I also get asked repeatedly. For the longest time, whenever someone would ask it, I would just smile and shrug my shoulders, hinting that the answer  was mine to keep and theirs to guess. When in all honesty, I had no idea what to answer.

I have been giving this question a lot of thought recently. What I came up with is this, my newest installment in this most fantastic of travel blogs: Wise Words and Whatnot.

What did you learn on your trip?

I- Never Go Back.

A few years ago, I was out barhopping in the streets of Beirut with Carla, one of my oldest and most random friends. We had been drinking for a while, to the point where we started singing as we made our way BACK to a bar where a few other friends were waiting for us. Then it hit us. It was like a scene out of a really, really good book, filled with really, really good scenes that reveal really, really deep thoughts and epiphanies.

And so it hit us. We sang a song. We sang and sang and it became a mantra. Our mantra. Never go back, never go back, back back. Never go back! We shouted it at people, we sang it to each other, we walked on and kept on chanting.

That night didn’t end so well for me, as I had my arms wrapped around the porcelain lifebuoy in my bathroom.

Flashforward a few years. I am backpacking from Beirut to Buenos Aires. I think I was in Dublin when I first conceived the concept (get it?), about to cross the Atlantic and start the second leg of my journey. The second time I ideated the idea, I was in San Diego, about to hop across the border and enter Mexico. I definitely thought the thought in Panama, as I waited for the boat which would take me into South America via Colombia (the boat never happened, but that is a different story). And finally, in Buenos Aires. That’s when I KNEW. I had been lecturing people throughout my trip. But my words were half baked, barely thought through concepts that I put together to make myself sound smarter than I really was.

But I KNEW.

Never go back.

Never go back the way you came.

Never go back to something you left behind (after all, you left it behind for a reason!)

Never go back to. It’s simple. It’s clean. It’s my mantra.

It’s also a lie. When you travel, you change. Just like when you go out and get blistering drunk, you change. Just like when you do anything and put your mind into it, you change. The secret is, always ask yourself why you are doing what it is that you are doing. What got you there? What pushed you into this situation? What made you take all the decisions that led you down the path you are currently treading? Really give it some thought.

What did I come up with? On my trip, I always pushed on. I never backtracked, even though I was sorely tempted to a few times. After my trip…

I came back to Dubai. It took me a while to realize this, but I did what I had always preached against. I went back.

In a few days, I am moving to Lebanon to start a new job. Am I going BACK to Lebanon? No. I have never lived there (not since I was a kid anyway!). I will be working in advertising. You could say I am going BACK to advertising, as I had worked there before. But this time… this time, I am going there a different person. I now know who I am, as cliche as that may sound. I am not who I was the last time around.

Am I going back? No. I am pushing forward.

This concludes our first installment in “Wise Words and Whatnot”.

Never Go Back.

Keep Following.

Dear followers,

For the next few days, the website will be going through… changes. Please be patient. It might look weird for a while. It might go offline. It will, now and again, only display a blank white page.

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Once upon a time, I read a short story. I haven’t thought about it in a looooong time, but it has recently come back to mind. I tried looking it up, but have yet to find it.

It went something like this:

Once upon a time, there lived a prince who loved to party and have a good time with his friends. One day, the prince and his father the king were having a talk about love, life and friendship.

And the king said to his son: “to have one true friend in life is a blessing. To have 2 true friends in life is twice the blessing. To have 3 true friends in life is a lie”.

But the prince would not hear of such talk, for he had many friends with whom he drank and partied. And so left his father’s hall and went out to his friends. They drank, they ate, they had as good a time as ever.

But his father’s words disturbed some deep and quiet part of his soul and so he thought of a way to test his friends.

He disappeared for a few weeks, keeping to himself., thinking about how he would learn the truth about friendship. Then an idea came to him, so he took up bis bow and killed a wild boar which he stuffed into a large bag.

He took the bag and went to his best friend’s castle. His best friend who was also a rich prince. His best friend whom he has known his entire life.

The prince said to his friend: “my friend! I was out hunting and had an accident. I killed a man with my own bow and do not know what to do! Please help me!”

But his friend grew afraid. “I cannot! What if someone finds out I am implicated in this disaster? I am sorry friend, but I cannot help you in this matter”.

And so the prince left, bewildered that his friend would not help him.

But he would not give up hope.

He went to another one of his friends with whom he had traveled far and wide. Another rich prince whom he grew up with.

“My dear old friend! I have killed a man by accident and do not know what to do! His corpse lies there, in the bag I have brought with me. Please help me!”

But this other friend, just like the first, grew afraid and asked the prince to leave his home.

Devastated, the prince walked on. Did he not have any true friends? Has he been misguided his entire life? And so, like many men who have lost their faith, he turned to drinking. He went into a tavern he used to frequent as a younger man. And there he saw an old friend of his, whom he had met while out hunting one day. This friend was not a prince. He was not a commoner either (let’s be honest, even though this is a fairy tale, a prince still wouldn’t hang out with a mere peasant!). He was but a lowly noble from a poor and modest House.

So he drank with this friend, and told him the same story.

“What should I do? I am the heir to the throne! If anyone ever finds out that I have killed a man, it would be a disaster!”

Seeing the prince’s grief, the friend said to him:

“Friend, I do not have your money. I do not have your connections or House name. I am but a lowly noble. But I have always considered myself lucky to have known you. You are a good and honest man. Worry not! Give me the bag with the corpse in it! I shall turn myself in and say it was I who killed the poor man, for I know that you would have done the same for me.”

Upon hearing those words, the prince looked up, shocked.

He quickly explained to his friend what was really in the bag and named him his one true friend.

Anyways. It was a pretty long story, and I am not even sure that’s exactly how it went. What I am trying to say is beware those friends of yours who talk too much. Because, in the end, talk is cheap.

Trust me on this one: most of your friends are actually what I like to call satellite friends. They will hover around you as long as you remain in the same orbit. Leave your orbit and try something new, most of them will just fall away. Your true friends are the ones who will stand by you no matter what.

Keep Following.

This post has been a while in the making.

Dubai is not an easy topic. It is even harder for me. Having grown up there, I saw it transform from a peaceful little city into a monstrous Metropolis.

I saw the people there evolve from simple minded folk to money hungering zombies.

I saw the free beaches disappear one at a time.

I saw the sky scrapers emerge from the ground like giant monoliths reaching ever higher and wider.

And then I saw Dubai collapse.

I saw people get laid off (hell, I was one of them!).

I saw people park their cars, fly out and never come back.

I saw people go from stupid rich to stupid poor and vice versa.

There is no better summary of Dubai then Burj Dubai. I mean Burj Khalifa. I mean the world’s tallest tower.

What started off as a testament to Dubai’s ingenuity and drive ended as a constant reminder of what could have been. What should have been. Wherever you are in Dubai. Burj Khalifa stands there, glittering in the sun. You can’t escape its beauty, its shadow, its impending sense of doom and wonder.

But that is not the real Dubai. The real Dubai can still be found if you care to look hard enough. Forget the fancy clubs. Forget the glitzy shopping malls, bars, beach clubs and restaurants.

Dubai started off as a sort of promised land, where people would go to leave their past lives behind. It is where you would go if you wanted to start something new, something different, something worth striving for.

And that is what it is going back to. Now that this so called world wide economic crisis shook everyone up a little, the sturdy hardy and handy still stand.

Burj Khalifa was completed. The promise was kept.

Keep Following.

Buenos Aires. What comes to mind when you think of Buenos Aires?

Had someone asked me that a year ago, I would have answered the following: Football. Steaks. Wine.Tango. Che.

If you thought of the same things, then you, like me, would have been right.

Just walk around the city. Strike up a conversation with any Porteno (someone from Buenos Aires). Within the first few minutes, you will have covered all of the above. As for Che, they don’t actually talk about THE Che. They just say che. A lot.

I spent close to a month and a half in Buenos Aires. Why so long? First of all, my grandfather was from Buenos Aires. So I met with my Argentinian family. Good people. Buena onda.

A typical day in Buenos Aires:

Wake up.

Drink mate (a kind of tea they all drink out of the same cup, really popular in Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay).

Go for a walk.

Have lunch (steak, choripan or empanada).

Drink more mate.

Take a shower, get ready for the night.

Have dinner (steak).

Drink wine.

Go to a tango show or hit up one of the million bars in the city.

Go home, open a last bottle of wine, drink it with your friends as you laugh about the day’s adventures.

Repeat.

Now, Buenos Aires was special to me. First of all, because it felt like I was discovering a part of my heritage. Second, because it was the last stop of my trip. Third of all, because of the people I met there and the friends I made.

Without going into too much detail, I would like to thank a few people for having been there.

Nicola. Geronimo. Pedro. Danilo. Marta. Cate. Michela. Claire. Xaviera. Gabi. All of my cousins (especially Vicky). Max (also known as Maurice, Marcel, Champion). Pollito. Caroline.

I am sure I forgot to mention a few of you. Don’t hold it against me. I’ll add your names as I think of them.

Muchas gracias a todos.

Suerte.

Keep following.

The Bolivian jungle. It is vast. Huge. Really Huge.

For countless years, people have taken to the jungle in times of need. Don’t like the government? Go to the jungle. Don’t want to pay taxes? Go to the jungle. Your name is Che Guevara and you want to disappear, giving yourself enough time to plan your next attack? Go to the jungle. Just don’t get caught. Ask Che.

But let us not forget. The jungle has also been home to different peoples, tribes, cultures.

It is with two men from such an indigenous village that we set off into the jungle.

We? There were four of us: the Swiss girl, the Israeli guy and Pato (Spanish for duck).

Why do I not mention their names? Because even though we spent close to two weeks in the jungle with our guides, they never could recall our names. So at this point, do they really matter?

We had to carry our own food and equipment (close to 25 kilos each). We walked for about 6 hours a day, except for the few days we spent at camp making our own bows and arrows (yeah, that’s right. I made my own bow and arrows).

I have been giving this post a lot of thought. What should I talk about? What can I talk about? It seems the jungle is so vast, so dense, so full of life that I don’t really know where to start…

Ah.

Of course. I remember thinking this on our first day. I had actually forgotten about that little thought until just now.

The day we set off, we took a mini bus to a town and proceeded to walk for about 5 hours until a small indigenous village. Over there, our guides told us a little about the jungle.

“Everything you need is in the jungle. Food, water, shelter, weapons, remedies, medecines etc.”

“Todo sirve” (loosely translated as everything has a purpose”.

So there you have it. That’s all I have to say about the jungle. Everything you need really is right there. Literally. Including all sorts of bugs (remind me some day to tell you about how a certain bug laid its eggs inside a blister on my foot… which we popped… releasing all sorts of mini bugs and larvae).

Keep following.

Greetings and salutations!

As you may know by now, I am currently in Dubai.

But don’t worry, this is not the end of followthehippo.com

First of all, there still are a few stories waiting to be published. I need to tell you about the jungle (big story, I have been working on that one for a while), Buenos Aires, Argentinian steaks, tango.

And then?

Why, the rest of my trip. Being in Dubai does NOT mean my trip is over. Not even close. What it does mean is that I have a few weeks of sunshine and beach ahead of me, before taking the Enterprise (my jeep wrangler) from Dubai to Lebanon. Through Saudi. Jordan. Syria.

Good times.

Keep following.

Oh, and I still need to write a special post I have been working on, about how to live out of a backpack. How to interact with travelers and locals. Trust me on this one, it should be a pretty (fucking hilarious) good post, but… You’re going to have to be patient.