LINK TO TRAVEL BLOG

If you are looking for more information on Forrest Mallard and his travel writing, please follow this link to his 'Tramposaurus Treks' blog here :: 

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Dubai Business Card - September 26, 2014

Redneck 6-Pack

This temple was undergoing a massive reconstruction.. I saw an open door and I asked everyone in the area if it was ok if I could enter and look around.. of course they all smiled and enthusiastically waved me through. I spent an incredible 20 minutes walking through the maze-like corridors of this compound without seeing a single other person. Then suddenly a very old monk appears and starts yelling at me to get out (I think that's what he was saying at least). I looked at him and smiled as hard as I could (I was in a great mood after all) and he instantly changed character and smiled back. But he still wanted me to leave.

Chasing Fireflies

(This is a copy of an email I sent to my friends on June 15, 2007)

Dear friends:

I don't do this too often. Actually never. With some of you I'll send an amusing photo or link to a crazy YouTube video.. but this time I actually want to share an excerpt from a short story that I read while I was in Colombia.. and the beauty of the words has haunted me ever since.

I found this story in a book titled THE SIX PACK 2006, which is a yearly publication in New Zealand showcasing emerging writers from that country. I read all the stories.. in my opinion, some of them were passable, some of them were entertaining.. but there was one story that rocked my world. What makes it even more special was that after falling in love with the story, I read up on the author, Phoebe Wright, and found that she is only 15 years old.

For more information on this book, follow this link: http://nzbookmonth.co.nz/sixpack.aspx

This story is about Phoebe's personal search for the meaning of her family family, brilliantly told, and I encourage you to buy the book just to read her entire story. But it is the final paragraphs that really get to me. As she concludes her story, she tries to find the meaning in her search for truth. But what she has to say is so universal.. and even after months of reading these last few paragraphs.. her few and simple words give me goose-bumps, get me teary eyed and generally give me a little hope that I'm not the only one out here .. searching.

I hope that you enjoy them as much as I have.

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Excerpt from CHASING FIREFLIES by Phoebe Wright
Too Many Thoughts

Language is a clumsy thing. Why can't our thoughts just sublime? From pure meaning into gaseous human feeling, to be inhaled by one and all? Why must we label things, always label? The label becomes the thing; and any real meaning gets bored and wonders off. Labels are too clear-cut, why does the line between fact and fiction have to be so sharp? Perilously sharp. Anything that falls on the divide is killed, and its corpse becomes invisible. Yet languages, labels, are all we have.

I'm sitting watching children, fireflies, flicking through my notebook. My father believed in Fate, my mother tries to believe in God, my grandparents believe in everything and nothing, what do I believe? What is it I've been trying to say?

I will spend my life trying to bridge the gap between meaning and feeling, fact and fiction, make the passage pure, reach the unreachable truth. True artists tickle it almost by accident with their brushes, writers' hands touch its surface but leave it stained with ink, so all we get is light through a dirty window.

Musicians find only a small range of notes can be heard, artists find there are only so many possible colours, and no paint contains light, we are all bound by the limits of words, but we try.

We are all chasing fireflies, our beliefs, some sort of meaning; those who don't chase don't live. So we chase. Not to catch it, suffocate it with our hands, but just to get close enough to see its light on our fingertips. Even with a million miles of darkness ahead, to see one light in the distance is enough. To see its light in the eyes of another wonderer, to feel its warmth between you and call it love, is enough. To wonder at the chance of the occasional touching of souls, is it chance? Is there such a thing as Fate? It doesn't matter.

We are here, this is real, this matters. It is enough to keep me going. To keep the whole wide world turning. To keep us alive.

The Philosophy of Vagabonding Part 2

Before I left home in 2005 I used a quote by Mohammed that seemed to legitimize my desire to travel at the time. Since I have been in Turkey, a Muslim country, for nine months now, I feel compelled to repeat this quote: "Don't tell me how many books you have read or how many schools you have been to, tell me how far you have traveled and I will tell you how much you know."

Sure, I know a few words in many different languages. Of course I know many of the different customs from many different countries. I even know where all the gay bars are located in over 20 major cities around the world (that has to be worth something, right?). The education learned on the road is based in survival and resourcefulness. Just as each unique culture presents unique forms of art and dance also comes a healthy dose of quirkiness. Be it the South American proclivity for procrastination or the Turkish fondness for exaggerating the facts or even creating some to meet their needs, these are habits that have been in these cultures for centuries. Your only option is to just deal with it and find a way to achieve your goals in spite of these obstacles.

The Philosophy of Vagabonding

It has been exactly three years since I left NYC for my whirlwind world tour and over a year since I have collected my thoughts to create a newsletter. Three years of living on the road through South America, Europe and the Middle East, having enough experiences to fill the plotlines of several epic miniseries.

Sadly, the beautiful memories of every mountain crater lake or Amazonian village that I did get the chance to see is often overshadowed by a subtle sadness for all of the Machu Picchus and Brazilian coastlines that I was never able to see. Yental said it best: "The more I learn, the more I realize the less I know." For every with every new discovery (a waterfall, goat farm, restaurant, cavern, ancient religious shrine or mountain colony of specialized craftsman) there is also a local telling you that over the next mountain range lies a magical lake or an abandoned temple that can not be missed… but life only gives you so much time, energy and pesos to play with and seeing it all is not an option.

Anyone can be a backpacker. Planning a semi-concrete itinerary through five countries over the period of 30 days is challenging, but you know at the end of the month you have a return ticket and you are going home to a comfortable and safe life with family and an extended network of friends that can come to your rescue if your life happens to implode.

I am a "backpacker" though I use the term very loosely in my case. The shortest amount of time I spend anywhere is three months which allows me to truly feel I have absorbed the local flavor. (It also allows for cultural exchange, like the time I taught a very serious, 350 pound Turkish mobster how to say "Fabulous!" while doing an over-the-head finger snap.) But even after three years, my luggage consists of one backpack, so I feel I have a right to this title.

But a more proper word for my lifestyle is "Vagabond." (For further definition check out the book Vagabonding: an uncommon guide to the art of long-term world travel by Rolf Potts) But what makes a vagabond different? After analyzing a good number of long-term, nomadic expatriates, and even a deeper consideration of my own psyche, I have the following answer:

A vagabond is a survivor that thrives best when diving head-first into the dark void of chaos, yet always managing to land on their feet. I have been known to create quite a bit of my own chaos in the past, but here on the road I actually feel most at home and most alive when I am ready to pack my bags and move to a new country / continent / culture that I have never experienced and know very little about and know absolutely no one. The mixture of sheer horror mixed with the thrill of adventure is the perfect combination to get the gears in your head turning. Each new location becomes a puzzle that at first seems impossible but with each passing day the cloud seems to lift and things start to fall into place.

In fact, the fist major puzzle a vagabond must tackle even before leaving home is how they will make money while on the road. For me, I took almost a year to create an online marketing company that would keep me connected to North American clients as long as I could find an Internet connection. Most people you will meet on the road, however, have taken the obvious route and have become English teachers.. a job which honestly makes it possible for practically every North American, British and Australian or New Zealand person to live the Vagabonding life. English is the international language for business and in every country in the world, your skill as a native English speaker will easily get you a pretty good job.

When confronting chaos on a regular basis, it would be a good idea to have some skills at being resourceful. When you are a Vagabonder and you step off that beaten path, you open yourself up to a universe of unforeseen challenges that are not covered in any guidebook and sometimes even finding yourself in situations that are life-threatening. Rubbing two sticks together, calling your embassy, running away, communicating through pantomime, singing on a street corner for bus fare.. its up to you to solve each puzzle so that you can move on to the next day.

Iraq Civil War -- FOX News thinks its a good thing...

Blood pools in the street, over 200 Iraqis killed in 72 hours, and what is FOX News wondering?