This book gives hope to anyone who wants to be a writer but doubts whether they have the talent to succeed. In this collection of his travel columns, Doug Lansky travels the world doing the things that only rich, spoiled Americans can do--visiting brothels, impoverised indians in the amazon, and "smelly" people in India (His quote, not mine.) Despite traveling around the world, Lansky's interactions with the native cultures is only minimal. However, the worst thing about this book is his writing; he has no sense of style or rythym and can barely string two words together. This is the worst type of travel book: that written by a spoiled rich kid who can barely write. Avoid it.