You planned to travel long term but wonder if you are ready to go home midway. Here is how you know: Nothing anywhere is as good as how it is at home – This food, these people, these streets, this traffic! Ugh! Unbearable! Nothing is good enough and nothing is how it should be. And when you have started to miss the traffic jams, the noisy crowds, the garbage on the streets and people pissing and spitting on the roadside, you better book your tickets because you are definitely ready to go home. Looking for non action – The idea of a quiet evening in a hotel room is better than going around the world and finding new and exciting things to do. “Let’s go to the khao san road, party and get some food on the streets of Bangkok, it is our last night in South East Asia,” we thought.  “No, let’s just find a quiet resort close to the airport and sleep early for we are going home tomorrow!” Counting your meals – You have booked your ticket to home and you are looking at the last meal before you fly out and you declare it the last phad thai you eat before you go home. But, even though it is only now you accept it but you have been doing this for a long time. You have counted the 10th last phad thai, the ninth last one and the one after that. In fact, you are also counting the exact number of hours it will take you to get home to keep a track of just how much time there is left before you can eat something your mother cooked for you. Check in was never such a happy time – You stand in the queue of …

So here goes the story of our Day 1 at Angkor temples. Enjoy and don’t forget to leave a comment at the bottom! Love – Vik & Ish 20 Nov 2013: Today has all about been sitting in the tuk tuk and wandering from one temple to another. Temples upon temples, nothing but temples and when you thought you had enough of temples, you go sit and relax…where? Well, in a temple. You would think it would be too many temples. As you would go from temple to temple, you would wonder if you have seen enough temples but your mind will instead be grappled by the urge to see more temples. “I wanna see more, I wanna see more” my mind said after I saw the first temple of Banteay Kdai, “I wanna see more, I wanna see more” it said after I saw 5 more temples and “I wanna see more, I wanna see more” it said after we saw the last temple of Bayon. Angkor consists only of temples. These were dedicated to Lord Shiva and Lord Vishnu built between ninth and sixteenth century. While most tourists arriving in had to either be accompanied by a guide or be in complete dark about the meanings of many different carvings and statues, for us to spot the familiar Nandi at the entrance, to recognize images of reclining Vishnu or flying Indra or multi headed Ravana or seeing few of the surviving lingas gave us the thrill of being so far but yet be in our own backyard. It was an adventure to find and explore our own mythology in an unknown country. And at the end we were asking for more…”I wanna see more, I wanna see more” again. Big or small, covered with green of the moss, the grey of …

I close my eyes and I can see myself walking along the pavement on the second hand books market in Dariya Ganj. It was not easy for me to be here, for my parents are never happy to see me go away on my photo walks. They don’t understand my fascination with old delhi and least of all with this market, selling termite infested damp copies of old magazines and books. This is raddi, kabbadi material, they say with a look of confusion and anger in their eyes. Dad came with me to the market a couple of times. But I could see he got bored as I lingered too long at the stalls as though not wanting to leave a single title unread, unexplored, untouched on the pavement of Dariyaganj. Thereafter, I convinced him that I will be fine, “after all I go to college alone,” I said. He agreed not willingly. But he knew I have grown up to be a daughter who is easier to agree with than to convince. That morning, I had my family’s old film camera hanging around my neck. Photography was another thing that was not fathomable to ma and pa. “What weird hobby!” ma and pa wondered. Worried if I would be alright alone or worried I would get home fine or not as though I would contract some weird bug, ma and pa protected me from everything. But that day some wrong bug I did catch on the pavement. That afternoon, from the heaps discarded books and old magazines, I picked up and brought home an old copy of National Geographic with a picture of what they said was ‘Angkor Wat’ on the cover. It was magnificent it seemed. “A Hindu temple, so far away from India!” I thought. There were …

Well, I fell in love with Saigon on the day of arrival. Was I worried? Had I heard all those things they say about Vietnam? Like hell I was. But our friends were there to pick us up and show us around, to hold our hand in the country which given the many different reviews was the most intimidating country on our South East Asia trip. With the fantastic baguettes, the possiblity to explore country’s rich past, the endless crowds of people on motobikes, the mix of colonial history with the Vietnamese values made a very fascinating mix convincing us that we may have to extend our travel and explore all that is there to see in this fascinating country. I wondered why they spoke ill of it. It seemed like India – wonderful, busy with its self and with a million smells and tastes. But the first day trip itself, followed by a trip to the war remnants museum convinced us that maybe what they say about Vietnam is, in general, perhaps a little over hyped and, in particular, is possibly not meant for us. And as we traveled to its much famed sights, our faith in Vietnam continued dropping. Hoi An was pretty everything else was a disappointment upon disappointment. Here are five reasons why I will never return to Vietnam: The country wide policy of overcharging the tourists – If you are a tourist. You must pay extra. Period. Scams – Number 1 is fine if at least you know how much extra. But, in Vietnam everybody will try to take from you as much as they can. You have to be on your guard forever. Lack of cheap budget accommodations – Every place to stay comes with a minibar, air con, television and breakfast too. What if I don’t …

Ladies and gentleman, as you know we are going around the world sampling some of the the worst bus rides to bring you the best of the worst ones. The ride from Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam to Luang Prabang, is one such fine rides that deserve a mention on our blog. This ride is the winner of our quest to find the most the torturous and traumatic experience on a night bus. We suggest discretion in reading this post, for you will often shudder to think that it could be you on the bus. This is not just the finest but definitely also the longest among all bus rides brought to us from hell so far. If you have been suicidal for a while and don’t know what to do with your life, this is just the thing for you to do. Uncertain and full of surprises, as life itself, you will keep guessing when you are leaving and where you are being taken to. Often you will find yourself sitting and waiting, watching the hours pass and wondering why both, your life and bus, are not moving forward and where the hell on Earth are you. But then you realize it is two in the night and in the epic Scarlett O’hara way you will tell yourself, I will worry about it tomorrow for tomorrow is another day. And then you will toss around in the ultra (un)comfortable seats purposely kept short to squeeze your toes (making you want to chop off your limbs) and narrow to allow more human to human contact by bringing you closer to the fellow passenger you will be practically lying down with the whole journey. As if this is not enough, you will be seated (placed) next to the aisle which will …

Yes, traveling long term has made us thrifty and obsessive deal finders but these are five ways we don't save money on our travels.

Read how traveling slow, bargaining and deal finding has helped us longer.

I love travel blogs, travel magazines, travel this and travel that. The idea of travel and breaking away from the chains of the desk fascinated me enough for me to quit my job and take up travel full time for a year (or maybe more, still not sure). I thought it would be cool to click beautiful sunsets on lakes and mountains, to get signature shots of me clicked in front of world famed sites flaunting now here and now there status on social sites telling people how cool Angkor Wat really is, how tasting rat meat in Laos feels and just how relaxing hanging in the hammock can feel but while I did all this, I realised five hard facts (if I may call them facts) about travelling that bloggers, travel writers and travel documentaries don’t mention: Travel fatigue – You get sick a lot when you travel continuously. I am writing this after having been popping in antibiotics like skittles for a month now and still nowhere close to recovery. If I look back at the past one year, I have been sick at least half the time. Most of the time I am exhausted, tired and fatigued. I thought it’s just me. But I have met more than few people who were just ready to get on the plane go back home after a year of travel. And by the way when I write “I”, it’s two of us anyways. Local foods misadventure– Oh! I know how we envy people travelling to different parts of the world and trying local cuisine and making documentaries about it. Phad thai with lemon and spring onions sprinkled with crushed peanuts, the wonderful red curry, the fried maggots, the frog meat. You thought you could live on coconut curries forever – …

"There is nothing to do in Vientiane" - Really! Oh, that's exactly what I want to do...Here is our guide on how to do nothing in Vientiane!

Put it next to the much famed Kohs of Thailand or the very chic, Bali, Sumatra will seem a humble tourist destination. And it doesn’t take long to figure that after you have landed here. You might be the only tourist queuing up for visa and wonder if you should have really come here. Even though accommodation and food is cheap, there are no hoards of backpackers passing months along in cheap hostels. Even the luxury travelers seeking lake cruises with sunset dinners don’t get here. There are no souvenir thrusting rows of shopkeepers (although plenty of artifacts to be bought at cheap prices because, you see, Bataks are excellent carpenters).  Nor are there any expensive restaurants to fine dine in and spend your cash. Sumatra, I must declare at the onset, is not for bling seeking, chic tourist with a cash load to splurge.  It is for the one seeking slow pace and the charm of the offbeat. It is for the traveler who can work a little harder than usual and accommodate in rooms that have bathrooms no wash basin. Home to millions of hectares of tropical rain forest, tribes that were cannibalistic until about 200 years ago, culture that worships breast and lizard, orang-utans who they say are the people of the jungle, the largest flower and the biggest snake in the world, Sumatra is the superlative island of superlatives. For the two weeks in one month we spent on Sumtra, we were held captive on the Samosir. The unassuming hospitality of our hosts didn’t help us escape either. Samosir is an island set on the caldera lake called Danau Toba formed thousands of years ago after a big boom happened that changed the face of the Earth. If you thought, Pyramids , Taj Mahal , Colosseum …