i just want to conquer people and their souls

Happy New Year, y'all! What's damp, grey and perpetually drunk? No, not my gran - it's England! The Manimal and I were fortunate enough to celebrate the nuevo ano across the pond and found it to be delightful. We laid waste to this fine land (attached to a finer land ) and, of course, are back with a bevvy of travel tips for all of you Anglophiles. First up: a quick tangent. To get to England I had the pleasure of traveling with what some people bafflingly consider to be the scourge of the skies: Delta "airlines". What I imagined to be a quick hop, skip and jump from NYC to Detroit (?) to Paris ended up being somewhat of a Kafkaesque adventure filled with rage, anarchy, and a Best Western. It all began as I was ensconced in the plane's cabin. Thank goodness I had requested to be seated behind a drunk lady and across from a man clad in triple stripes who had stripped down to bare feet already. "Good for you, sir!" I thought to myself, ...

When I say Mekong, you say "quagmire". Mekong! Yes kids, I finally made it happen. I, Veronica Montebellucci managed to travel to my spiritual home, a place of rash decisions and destruction: the Mighty Mekong! * This is how I left it... For those new to my weblog, I spent this summer on a "working holiday" (as my mother so hopefully put it) in Thailand, but along the way went rogue many a time. One such instance was when my wife (as the youth of today call their close female friends) and I decided, on the spur of the moment, to go to Laos. We both thought that it would be fun to go rogue in the roguiest place of all. And so, after packing up our bindles and taking our dust baths we left the delights of Northern Siam, including our elephant friends: and my jeans (prompting me to finally figure out the title of my future autobiography: I Left My Jeans in Chiang Mai - The Veronica Montebellucci Story. Don't judge, everyone should decide on one. Manimal...

Ah Cambodia, or Kampuchea for those of us who were born before the 1990s. The name alone conjures up visions of ancient temples, jungles and Maddox Jolie-Pitt. As part of my recent sojourn to the area (which I have dubbed "South East Asia: Unsubmitted") I was fortunate enough to spend a few days in this fabulous country and, as always, am here to give you a little advice, Montebellucci-style. My  wife  and I arrived full of anticipation at the Siem Reap International Airport after a few idyllic days in  Luang Prabang , Laos (also known as The Best Place In The World). Compared to Luang Prabang's "airport" which consisted of 5 cerulean colored chairs and a woman who checked our luggage manually, Siem Reap seemed like a bastion of modernity. *an aside: although the airport itself was slightly behind the times, its awesome policy of walking across open tarmac does make one feel like Mick Jagger, or a convict being transported by  JPATS . At Siem Reap airport ...

Q: What has two legs, a rat's tail and a shopping bag full of Chang stubbies? A: The man of my dreams! Just kidding, folks. Unfortunately some other lucky lady scooped him up. But, this perfectly describes the summer clientele of my next Travel Tips locale: Patong Beach, Thailand. This golden dream is located on the island of Phuket, a veritable beacon to the world's classiest folks. Patong has none of that Euro-trash you find stinking up the Italian and French Rivieras with their luxury yachts and designer fashions. No, no! Patong shuns these folks and bids them adieu with one dismissive wave of its acrylic-nailed paw.  No spray tan, no cornrows - no entry, my friend. Based on the promise of such high standards, my wife and I donned our best counterfeit Heineken tank tops and waded in to the fray. Would we be accepted? Would our sunglasses burns be large, and ghastly pale, enough? Could we drink an entire bucket of Thai moonshine and earn our keep amongst the th...