Sexinator Will Peach shares travel bloggers he would turn gay for

A DELICIOUS GUEST POST BY:

Will Peach, one of the site editors over at Gap Daemon, the gap year travel website for backpackers and young travellers. You can also find him talking about the best places to travel in Spain on MySpanishAdventure as well as a good deal more about travel sex dreams at TravelSexLife.

Being a heterosexual male in a world full of female travel bloggers is no walk in the park. Everywhere I look it’s girls, girls, girls.

Quite frankly I’m a bit tired of it. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate an aesthetically pleasing Twitter profile and blog full of suggestive photos just as much as the next man, but, let’s be honest here, when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all right?

It’s hardly surprising then that all this travel blogging lark has got me moving closer towards batting for my own side. When the ratio of girls to boys is something like 3 to 1 this kind of shit is bound to happen. Imagine me crawling through a never-ending list of girly-owned blogs and Twitter profiles. It’s only natural that the first man to crop up would scream “exotic”!

Ok. Right then. Now I’ve firmly placed my sexuality cards on the table (*flutters eyelashes* “hello boys”) I guess there’s really nothing more to do than to throw caution to the wind and in indulge in my man crushes publicly.

The top ten travel bloggers I’d go gay for? Let’s cut to the chase and let the stalking begin.

P.S. I’d love to say they are no particular order but that would be a lie. Sorry guys I’m a bitch like that. Yet the offer remains open for a gang bang…

Ed Rex -Rexyedventures

10. Ed Rex - Rexyedventures
The newcomer in at ten is my little Yorkshire terrier and soon-to-be-lapdog, Ed Rex. Ed’s been stirring my loins ever since I saw a saucy model-esque photo of him on his about page on his blog. Looks very good in hats. Hope to meet/shag and share a cup of team with him when he hits the road come spring.

Brendan Van Son - Brendan's Adventures

9. Brendan van Son – Brendan’s Adventures
My editor-in-chief (he’s certainly a chief – if you get what I mean ) over at Vagabundo Magazine, I’ve pipped for Brendan mainly because he’s got the Photoshop chops to touch my ugly mug up in any coupley photos we might take together in our long, happy and totally imagined future. His cute little Canadian accent coupled with his rugged Antarctic explorer shot gets me salivating every time.

Marcello Arrambide - Wandering Trader

8. Marcello Arrambide – Wandering Trader
In at eight is latin lothario Marcello Arrambide, known colloquially in the gold digging world as “Wandering Trader” aka “Mr Big Bucks”. Marcello originally got me swooning with his point-to-the-sky photo series and his penchant for leopards. He’s really good at SEO too. I like a man who knows how to work their tools.

Johnny Ward - One Step 4Ward

7. Johnny Ward – Onestep4ward
My little Irish pixie may have a stunning Thai girlfriend but you think that’s going to stop me? Johnny had me at “one” before he even had the chance to take a “step forward”. Since then he’s been flooring me with tales of wanderings into North Korea, Kenya and something about his friend shitting on his passport. Proper little danger man.

Chris Walker Bush - Aussie On The Road

6. Chris Walker Bush – Aussie On The Road
The thought of a sweat-drenched, bearded, Aussie man lugging his hefty backpack on the road as he inches towards me? Phwoar. I think I just blew my load a little. However since Chris showed his more sensitive side, in his revelations over the black dog, I’ve suddenly begun seeing him a new light. Mainly as that of a little puppy dog that I could wantonly care for.

Gary Ardnt -Everything Everywhere

5. Gary Arndt – Everything Everywhere
If only Gary Arndt, my older man crush, could actually give me “everything everywhere”, I’m sure I’d have a few suggestions for him. On the back of a motorbike in Belize while he chats about his new “lenses”? If that’s what he wants…

Samuel Jeffery - Nomadic Samuel

4. Samuel Jeffery – Nomadic Samuel
Samuel’s blog claims to be “dripping” with sarcasm, but I can guarantee he gets me “dripping” with something else entirely. Tales of teaching kids in Korea show that he’s perfect adoptive daddy material. Another one that looks good in hats. Just have a perve at his about page if you don’t believe me – I guarantee you’ll lose a part of yourself.

Matt Kepnes - NomadicMatt

3. Matt Kepnes – Nomadic Matt
That elfin physique, those come-hither eyes, Nomadic Matt could turn me a gay within seconds of putting on the green light. I don’t even have to look at the man himself to get hard – sometimes the cartoon version in his banner is just as good. An intimidating shag yes – given he’s one of the biggest travel bloggers out there – yet I’d still give it a crack.

Colin Wright - My Exile Lifestyle

2. Colin Wright – My Exile Lifestyle
The closest I’ll ever get to booking a flight and heading out to New Zealand, Colin’s raunchy images of him naked with only a Macbook covering his manhood are a pure stroke of genius – and encourage healthy strokes of a lot more than that too. This American blogger, the man behind the Exiles platform, gets my heart pumping with all his entrepreneurial ideas. That and the fact he only sticks around for 3 months. Convenient as my gay phase probably wouldn’t last for much longer.

Anthony Middleton - ManvsClock

1. Anthony Middleton - Man Vs Clock
There have already been many suggestions on my behalf of having male lust for this travel blogging Geordie. You know what? It’s all true. Those cheeks, that bone structure, the no-alcohol thing, the coming to terms with his baldness – this is a true mans man my friends. From action shots on jet-skis, to tiger petting, to close shaves with Neo-Nazis, this boy has done it all. Make no mistake about that.

Phew, so there. I’m done. I need to go and have a cold shower to cool myself down. All that research has got me horny as hell.

By: Margyle

Everyone has travel horror stories or at least knows of someone who does. Getting scammed by swindlers or robbed by charlatans while on vacation can be a major downer, but so long as you walk away from it, it usually makes for a pretty good story later. I mean, who wants to have a perfect trip every time?

Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like travel is getting safer – at least in the traditional sense. I don’t know, perhaps I only talked to a bunch of downers before embarking in the early days of my travels or it could be that I was scared of my own shadow in the big wide world, but I don’t feel as threatened as I once did. Am I crazy? Probably.

Take my last trip abroad. I was fine! Granted I never went into any unsavoury areas or partook in any questionable exercises, but I generally don’t take the Icarus approach to travel and look at those who do and get burned with a ‘what did you expect?’ reaction. Even still, you have to figure walking the streets of Rome by the Coliseum with its thousands of tourists, it would be easy for someone to snatch something and run. Maybe I just wasn’t a good mark.

I think one reason I marvel at how nothing bad happened was because I was taking such a huge risk in the first place. You see, in my bag for 15 out of 25 days was the engagement ring I was going to propose to my now fiancée with. With my lack of trust in the hostels we were staying in (which, in fact were very safe – not to mention private rooms), I resorted to carrying it around in my backpack every day, anal and paranoid beyond belief that she would see it or someone would take it. Needless to say it wasn’t, which relieved me once it was firmly on her finger… for more reasons than one.

Like my previous trip to Europe, I also brought along a money belt my grandfather gave me before going to Spain. Unlike my last trip, I did not wear it even once, nor did I feel the need to. It could be due to my insistence on wearing my wallet in my front pocket or maybe the discreet manner in which I withdrew bills. Or maybe it’s that nowhere in Western Europe are as sketchy as Barcelona, but I had no issues when it came to pickpockets.

This leads me to wonder – are thieves getting lazier or smarter? Could it be thieves have realized stealing takes too much time and energy that could be spent seducing foreign girls trying to ‘find themselves?’ Or it could be crooks are now resorting to using computers to steal tourist bank information, only reserving physical encounters when some rube who sets their iPad down to eat their gelato.

So maybe travel isn’t getting any safer or thieves lazier, but it can feel that way if you adopt the right attitude. That way you can brag about how safe something is, without mentioning your paranoid vigilance, thus lulling others into false feelings of security that results in them being mugged and you getting to judge them for being stupid! Win/Win!

This fantastic post has been brought to you by our friends at VacationHomeRentals.com – Great Deals from a trusted name.

By: Zoe Sedlak

What’s the main difference between Canada and Europe?  Castles.

I’m serious.  There are hundreds and hundreds of castles in Western Europe alone.  Portugal has castles that date back a whole millennium.  I know I’m being obvious when I say this, but that’s a long time.  It’s especially long compared to Canada, which has maybe a dozen or so castles in the whole country and few are scarcely older than 100 years old.

And why is that?  Canada is new.  Europe is very, very old.  None of this is a secret, I know.  You’re probably like, “Yeah, thanks for the grade six history lesson.”  But what I’ve come to realize about this simple fact is that this age difference also means a difference in the types of traveling and travelers who go to these destinations.

Staying in one of the apartments in Lisbon will allow you to be doing and seeing some very different things than if you were visiting Banff, Alberta.  In this Portuguese city, you’ll be going to see the Castle of St. George, built by the Romans in the 6th century and a beacon of history that can be spotted from almost everywhere in Lisbon.  You’ll be stepping through Rossio Square, a stretch of beautifully intricate mosaic cobblestones that have been spreading like waves through the square since the 18th century.  If you stay long enough in your Lisbon apartment you can enjoy Santos Populares, a month of marches and parties celebrating the people’s saints.  You can stalk the streets that Magellan once stalked.

And in Canada?  We don’t have castles, but we have mountains.  We don’t have massive centuries-old festivals, but we have ceilidhs in small towns on the east coast.  Portugal has beautiful tiled walkways that were built when Canada was still trying to sort out the provinces.  They had the civilization that built our civilization.  We definitely do have a much older history in the First Nations, and we have Viking ruins in Newfoundland, but these landmarks don’t shape entire capitals the way they do in Europe.

So that’s the difference between Canada and Europe.  And it doesn’t make either of them better or worse than the other, but it does make for a different travelling experience.  Europe offers the rich history and distinct and varied cultures all condensed in a relatively small geographical area.  They have a mind-blowing amount of past to discover in their spires and domes and ancient streets coloured with unique foods and art.  That’s what the tourism in Europe is all about.  In Canada you can climb through the Rockies or brave the Northwest Territories or watch the glaciers cruise by the Atlantic Ocean or chill with the mighty moose.  We’ve got prairies and vast amounts of open space and boreal forest on the Canadian Shield.  This is what people come to Canada for.   They’re both amazing place, and because of history, they’re both very different travel destinations.

By: Hogga

Stress Relief
Vacay anyone? For those with high paced 9-5 jobs or children to take care of, getting away is stress relieving. Although I find short trips like that to make life a bit more stressful when you return, sometimes we need to leave our own country to relax. Taking a week off work and staying home doesn’t always relieve the stress as well as you will feel the need to do things around the house or run errands. When you’re on a beach in Mexico, you have nothing to do but walk to the little hut that’s serving margaritas. It’s paradise!

The New and Exciting
Some peeps like to travel for the adventure. The type that get hot off culture shock, climbing the highest mountain in the world or simply experiencing something different. When I was younger I used to get butterflies in my stomach when I would visit Toronto from my hometown in suburbia. I don’t get that feeling when I go into the city anymore, but I do get it when I travel most places.

Food
I know a few chefs and food critics that travel to try new and exotic foods as well as learn how to cook them. I also know a lot of people who just really like to eat. I still dream about some of the food I tried on the road, but unfortunately I never made any effort in learning how to cook the deliciousness.

Volunteer
Oh those selfless souls who spend the weeks they have off of work a year volunteering in far off countries. Some even travel for a living helping build homes or teaching English in underdeveloped countries. It’s a great way to meet locals and learn about the world directly and not just what you see on television.

Hobbies
From sports to history, some people travel to indulge in their hobbies. My parents used to travel in the winter so they could have somewhere to play golf. They enjoyed the golf courses in Sarasota, Florida so they bought a house there, which they live in through Canada’s winter. I wish they liked the golf courses in Hawaii, that would made for much more exciting trips when I visit them.

By: Hogga

So you think you’re a traveller? Well unless you’ve travelled back in time, like me… think again.

Ah, I’m just fucking with ya, but I’ve seriously travelled back in time.

In attempts to cure my winter blues, a few of my friends and I headed to Medieval Times, Toronto. You may think that sounds somewhat lame, but your wrong, because it’s awesome and we’re awesome.

We were there quite a bit early so we wandered around. My friends gawked at the horses as I gawked at all the hot men. Unfortunately all these hot men were with their wives and children, as many of you have seen my facebook status about all the DILF’s up in Medieval Times.

Everyone that worked at MT referred to us as ‘princess’ which I thoroughly enjoyed. We also got to wear crowns and eat the delicious meal with our hands – there was no shortage of booze either. You can even order bottles of wine before the show to be delivered to your table.

The knight we were asked to cheer for (in accordance to the colour of our crowns)  was the red night. He had a sick moustache, so we were pretty pumped and yelled a lot.

I’m not gonna lie, it was a bit cheesy, but still a super good time. I would recommend it for all ages as long as you go in with an open mind and don’t have too high expectations.

This fantastic post has been sponsored by our friends at InsureandGo – The travel insurance specialists.

After sleeping on rock hard, single, dorm beds my body craves coziness. I once picked a hostel simply because their common area was a room filled with crap loads of giant pillows.

That being said, coming home to a queen size bed is quite wonderful and somewhat frightening as well.

As much as people say they don’t like TV it can be pretty convenient when you’re bored, tired or procrastinating. I don’t even think about TV when I’m travelling, but it’s sweet to have around when home.

If you know me at all, you’re aware of my slipper obsession. I am ALWAYS wearing slippers. BIG. FUZZY. BRIGHT. SLIPPERS.

(Not a logical thing to travel with).

When I’m home, I no longer have to convert currencies in my head. SCORE!

(Technically I couldn’t really do it when I was travelling either).

Lastly, I enjoy that I can tell my drunk male friends to take off their shirts and they do it… I learned the hard way abroad, that this is not a normal request and you probably shouldn’t demand it from people you’ve just met.

You likey??? Read Part 1 or Part 2

What’s your favorite thing to come home to after travelling?

By: Hogga

January and February just eat away at my soul. I try so hard not to get the winter blues, but all I can think about is how much I miss Mr.Sunshine (or Mrs for those feminists reading).

So how do I get rid of this awful feeling? I guess I don’t. It’s just something I’ve learned to live with. In the future I hope to never be in Canada during these months and be somewhere (ANYWHERE) warmer than here. Holidays to Goa or Central America are in order. I want to feel the sun on my pale, pasty skin.

But it’s not just the winter that makes these months so depressing. Accoording to numerous sources, January 16th is actually the saddest day of the year. Which sucks, but it’s good to know I’m not alone in this.

Scientists say that January 16th is the saddest day because of the post Christmas blues. People are trying to cope with the awful weather, unpaid debt from the holidays (payday for many is still two weeks away) and failed New Year’s resolutions.

Taking vitamin D and getting outside help, but don’t cure the moopyness in my strut. Especially if some days are so cold or windy, the last thing anyone wants to do is go outside. I believe greatly in exercise as a cure for all kinds of blues, I’m addicted to releasing endorphins and other happy chemicals, but I’ve recently pulled my back and my Chiropractor says I’m only allowed to walk. I get a semi sweat going, but not even close to burning off stress and those Christmas drinks & turkey.

How do you deal with this HORRENDOUS time of year?

By: Zoe Sedlak

I once saw a Parisian man in a movie talk about cheese.  He said something along the lines of: “You must never put your cheese in the fridge.  You wouldn’t put your pet dog in the fridge, so why would you put your cheese in the fridge?” And apart from my instinctive response to laugh at this man’s emphatic diatribe about cheese, I realized that you actually have to respect what he’s saying, because a man who speaks so strongly about cheese must come from a place that’s passionate about food.

It’s not like food doesn’t play an important role in other countries as well but there’s something about France, and Paris in particular, that seems to have a unique relationship to food that I haven’t seen anywhere else.  They seem to approach their food they way they would approach a lover, or the way they would approach a blank canvas, brush and paint palette in hand.  Paris is the quintessential city of art and romance, and these elements are very much a part of the food that they serve in little bistros beneath ornate Paris apartments, or restaurants that sparkle at night.

Dining is all part of the experience here.  You can stay in one of the apartments in Paris all day just eating, but you’ll miss out on the full Parisian food experience.  There are enough food blogs out there to prove that in Paris, there is an art to the food they prepare.  There’s the presentation of the food, there’s the atmosphere of the venue, there’s the discourse you share with the people around you.  All of this goes into a dining experience in Paris.

You don’t have to drop 40 euro on appetizers if you don’t want to (although there are certainly places in Paris where this would be no problem).  There are restaurants where a main course can be less than a decent meal at Jack Astors in your local suburb.  Le Bambou, for instance, a Vietnamese-inspired restaurant that still conserves a distinctly Parisian vibe, has main courses that run from 10 to 15 euro.  If you’re eating alone, you may find yourself rubbing elbows with a stranger in rather close eating quarters, but it’s all part of the dining experience.  Start up a conversation.  Eat, and taste the romance and the art that went into every bite.

Myself personally, I’m no foodie.  I’m not one of those people who likes three hundred-course meals of tiny foods you can eat in one bite.  I’ve seen Ratatouille, and I can’t close my eyes and let the food melt in my mouth as I watch the flavours dance across my senses like a lightning bolt symphony.  Gourmet for me sometimes involves peanut butter and jam sandwiches.  But, in Paris, this is part of the city.  There is the Eiffel Tower, there is the Arc de Triomphe, there is romance on the river, and there is food.  If the city’s streets were veins, the culture of food would be the blood that flows through them, allowing the city’s pulse to continue its steady rhythm.  So, although you may do it at home, for the love of God, don’t refrigerate your cheese in Paris.

By: Margyle

I swore I would never become that guy. You know, that douche who won’t eat something because it pales in comparison to the ‘real’ thing from its place of origin. I made a promise that I would sodomize myself with an old wooden spoon if I became that person because I didn’t want to live in that reality.

Well, lock the utensil drawer, because that day is now.

It started out so simple. Boy likes sushi. Boy eats boatloads of sushi to the disgust of his companions. Boy gets job in Tokyo. Boy discovers sushi kaiten (known in my circles as sushi-go-rounds). Boy gets call from ocean informing him they’ve run out of tuna. Boy returns home and revisits site of original sushi-glutton-fest. Boy becomes douche.

Somewhere around step three I realized I was screwed, but even still, some naïve part of me wanted to believe I would not utter those six snobby words:

“It isn’t as good as Tokyo.”

Looking back on it, I couldn’t help it. I mean seriously, even the worst sushi I had in Tokyo was still better than anything else. My home is landlocked, whereas Tokyo is seaside – you figure it out. Sure, they try to make up for it by putting western spins on the Asian classic, including crispy spicy rolls and rolls stuffed with savoury sauces, but they just can’t compete. Even after eating it for a few years, the Tokyo memory still haunts me, teases me even, having melded into my mind into some mythical, unattainable symphony arranged by a fishmonger and then composed by some samurai looking guy. Bastardu!

It doesn’t stop there either, as I feel that way about pad thai, tom yum soup and gelato. Are these places out to screw me? I can’t live in all of them and I’m too poor to fly there every time I get a craving. I feel like walking into every restaurant that ‘serves’ that ‘food’ and tell them to stop wasting everybody’s time and just open a spaghetti restaurant – it’s nigh impossible to mess that up – so they’ll please stop raping my favourite foods.

I will admit though, the douchiness does wear off over time. After a few years and dozens of tear soaked pillows later, the desire for what truly made you happy does lessen. Now it’s more like you found your true love, lost it, then settled for a distant second that only ranks that high because you’re imagining your true love while you’re with them.

So the next time someone acts the snob regarding food, remember, they’re not trying to be blowhard show offs – they’re merely nursing a broken heart. Your sushi doesn’t blow, but rather they blow for letting it get away.

Oh, and your sushi does blow.

By: Zoe Sedlak

When I was on my summer break after my first year of university, I decided that taking a three day trip down to New York City was within my meagre budget, so I asked several of my friends if they wanted to come with me. At first, many of the conversations went something like this:

“You’re going to New York?”
“Yup.  You wanna come?”
“Where are you staying?”
“Hostel.”
“… Oh.  I’ll get back to you on that one.”

Up until then, I hadn’t done a whole lot of travelling without some sort of guardian around – whether it was with family or with school, so there had always been the option of staying in a hotel or hotel-like accommodation.  Hostelling was new to me and many of my friends, and apparently to some of them, the word “hostel” seemed to be synonymous with “robbery”, “cockroaches” and “getting knifed in your sleep”.  Now I can’t speak for all hostels here, but I can tell you that one hundred percent of the hostels that I’ve stayed at in North America have involved none of these things.

So the problem with taking a trip to New York wasn’t how to get there or even how much it would cost, but whether I could get my friends to warm to the idea of staying in a hostel.

The thing with hostels is, if you can’t afford to rent lavish Florence apartments or stay at the Hilton, they’re pretty much your best option for a few nights’ stay in a city.  And if you’ve got a thang with hostels, it could turn your trip from something affordable to mission impossible.  So what do you do when the people you want to take a trip with shudder every time you even mention “six-bed dorm”?

First off, you show them a site like Hostelling International.  If you’ve stayed in a hostel before, you’re probably familiar with how brilliant this site is.  It provides photos and reviews and a list of services offered, and again, I can’t speak for the hostels outside of North America, but none of the ones I’ve gone to have been misrepresented on this site.  It served as a comfort to my furtive friends when they could read about other people’s experiences at the hostel, and see that most of the complaints were of the long walk to the bathroom, or the minimal breakfast options available in the adjoining café, and did not mention anywhere about any hooded men standing over their bed and breathing heavily as they slept, or getting robbed blind while they were in the shower.  Just normal, non-life threatening problems like towels and breakfast.

Because it’s true, a hostel is not the Marriot.  You’ll probably have to walk down a public hallway to the bathroom.  You’ll have to sleep in the same room as strangers.  But it’s been my experience that these strangers are, in fact, very much like you.  They’re travelling, which means they have stories to tell, they’ve got shit they also don’t want stolen, and they’re usually on a budget, too.  In the end, of the four friends who didn’t have class and would have been able to come with me to New York, I successfully turned two of them to the idea.  Eh, you can’t change everyone.  The best you can do is tell them that staying at a hostel is not a day at the spa or one of the fancy apartments in Florence but it’s not a scene from a Quentin Tarantino movie, either.