What I Experienced at ETF—and Why You’ll Never Keep Me Away Again

Alone Again, Naturally
Over the years, I’ve fallen hard for solo travel—so much so that it’s not just a preference; it’s a necessity. Honestly, I avoid traveling with others like the plague. Some people get it. Others think it’s weird. Maybe it’s a little selfish—I won’t argue that. But here’s the thing: when you’re on your own, you’re the captain of your ship. Wake up when you want, eat when you want, wander wherever the hell your feet take you. No debates, no compromises. Sure, it’s self-centered. But let’s be honest—it’s also incredible.

So when an invite rolled in to fly halfway around the world to Bangkok for a travel conference—with hundreds of people, no less—I couldn’t imagine anything I’d want to do less. A conference? Really? This sounded about as appealing as a root canal or a chat with the IRS. But here’s the twist: I went. And I’m damn glad I did. In fact, I’m going to tell you why you should consider going to the next Extraordinary Travel Festival, too. Let me explain.

To tell the truth, the only reason I said yes was because they asked me to speak. Seemed like a solid move for my fledgling foray into public speaking—stepping out from behind the mic and onto a stage. And yeah, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit there was another big reason: the host.

Ric Gazarian. If you’ve been around the travel world long enough, you’ve probably heard his name. He’s the guy behind the Counting Countries podcast, a show that celebrates the borderline-obsessive art of ticking countries off a list. I’ve known Ric for five or six years now, and he’s the real deal. A hardcore traveler, yes—but also the guy who’s always in your corner. He’s not about himself; he’s about shining the spotlight on others. The kind of person who makes you feel like your story matters.

So when Ric asked, saying yes felt like the right move. You don’t just brush off an invite from someone like that. You show up.

Dis-Orient-ed and Delirious 
I couldn’t tell you a single thing about my first night in Bangkok. After a gloriously indulgent first-class flight on Cathay Pacific—booked with points, of course—I should’ve been in good shape. But no. I was wrecked.

I tried to rally, joining the others for drinks and dinner at Aesop’s. Tried being the operative word. Names of people I’ve known for years? Gone. Conversations? Incoherent at best. I probably came off like I’d had a few too many—or something stronger. About 15 minutes in, I pulled the classic Irish exit. No goodbyes, no explanations, just slipped out like a shadow.

Back at the hotel, I didn’t even make it through the cab ride. The driver had to nudge me awake when we got there. I was done—completely cooked.

I crashed hard that first night, but not before the jitters crept into my dreams. There I was, showtime looming, and I’d forgotten the essentials—my Sultan jacket and the all-important general’s hat. A rookie nightmare for a seasoned dictator. Clearly, some part of me was sweating the idea of performing in front of the most seasoned travelers on the planet.

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. It was one of my best performances yet, hands down. The audience? Top-notch. They got the bit, they leaned into the absurdity, and I’d like to think we all had a hell of a good time.

The Sultan of Swing
I had the surreal honor of kicking things off, stepping onto the stage in full character as “The Sultan.” For the uninitiated, I’m the self-appointed, lifetime supreme leader of the world’s newest country: The Republic of Slowjamastan. It’s an 11-acre micronation carved out of the barren, sun-blasted desert in the deepest reaches of Southern California.

We’ve got over 20,000 registered citizens scattered across the globe—none of whom actually live in Slowjamastan, by the way. Our little nation boasts its own national anthem, currency, passports, the works. And “The Sultan”? Picture me decked out in a gloriously absurd, Gaddafi-inspired green uniform, dripping with medals and ribbons.

There’s a lot to unpack here, and honestly, you’re better off taking a deep dive into the Slowjamastan rabbit hole yourself. You won’t regret it. Trust me.

The rest of the day was a blur of photo requests—only natural when you’re rocking the full Sultan regalia. And here’s a funny thing: women definitely pay more attention to me when I’m in uniform. Who knew medals and a dictator’s swagger were a thing? Might have to test the theory at the club sometime.

@slowjamastan The Sultan of Slowjamastan spotted in Bangkok… #slowjamastan #Sultan #Bangkok #AmazingThailand #ETFBangkok ♬ One Night In Bangkok – Original Single Version / From “Chess” – Murray Head

The Travel World’s MVPs
Once the Sultan’s comedy special wrapped, it was time for the real adventure: three days with some of the most intrepid travelers on the planet, each armed with jaw-dropping stories. Back home, my friends might be impressed that I’ve hit every country in the world, but trust me, that’s child’s play compared to the crowd at ETF.

While I’m booking business class, checking into the Marriott, and leisurely exploring a city’s capital, these folks are out there pushing boundaries—doing things that seem impossible and are undeniably uncomfortable. Here are just a few highlights from ETF and the incredible people who took the stage:

Regrettably, I missed Barry Hoffner, who followed right after me. His story? How a bucket list trip to Timbuktu turned into his life’s work. I’m kicking myself for missing it, Barry—I got whisked away to the lobby for post-presentation photos like some kind of reluctant celebrity. But word on the street? You crushed it.

I made it back to my seat in time to catch Lakshmi, a young woman who pulled off what most would call sheer lunacy—or at least a certified death wish: overlanding through Somalia. Now, if you’re crazy enough to visit that failed state, you probably do it the way I did—one or two nights max, holed up in the fortified “green zone.” You stay in a hotel that feels more like a bunker, with four to seven heavily armed guards shadowing your every move. Even that kind of sanitized, high-security visit left my nerves shot.

But Lakshmi? She didn’t just dip a toe in—she dove headfirst. Hitchhiking. Couch-surfing. TikToking the whole thing as she made her way across Somalia. It’s the kind of story that makes your heart race just hearing about it. Eventually, the authorities caught wind of her escapades and deported her.

Sure, some people have criticized her for being reckless, and maybe they’ve got a point. But you can’t deny her guts—or her resilience. Listening to her recount that wild ride? Absolutely electrifying.

@lostshmi Flying my drone into a flock of flamingos is a dream come true 😁😁😁 I always pictured Somalia as one bug hot desert but turns out #Mogadishu at least has dream weather 🤩 Thanks for showing us around @Amira kay💕 #somaliatiktok #adventure #explorer #somalia #lakshmi #womensempowerment #beautifuldestinations ♬ original sound – Lakshmi Parthasarathy

Next up, an overview from Charles Veley, who might be considered the Godfather or extreme travel. He hosts meet-ups and trips around the world in super cool locations and shared with the room the next trip he was putting together in Ethiopia. It looked legit.

Meeting Luisa Yu was one of those moments that reminds you why you love this crazy, beautiful world. At 80, this Filipina dynamo isn’t just still traveling—she’s crushing it. Last year, at 79, she wrapped up her journey to every country on the planet. And yet, she’s not slowing down, still venturing far and wide.

But here’s the thing: it’s not just her passport stamps that make her incredible. Luisa has a warmth that draws you in instantly. The kind words, the big hugs, and yes, the dance moves—this woman can cut a rug. She’s the grandmother you wish you had, the kind of person who makes the world feel smaller and sweeter just by being in it.

Seeing her on stage was just as magical. My friend Mette Ehlers Mikkelsen hosted the conversation, and let me tell you, Mette is no slouch. She’s right up there with the likes of Barbara Walters—sharp, empathetic, and utterly captivating. Together, they had the room hanging on every word. Luisa’s stories? Phenomenal. Mette’s interviewing? A masterclass. The whole thing was pure gold.

Afraid of the Dark
Then there’s my personal friend Harry Mitsidis, the mastermind behind NomadMania.com, the ultimate hub for the world’s serious travelers. It’s the place where you can log every country you’ve been to, see how you stack up against others, and get lost in a rabbit hole of achievements. Harry’s no stranger to big ideas, and his presentation on “dark tourism” was one of the most gripping things I’ve seen in a while.

He dove deep into the ethics of traveling to places like North Korea and Russia, to the sites of concentration camps and slave depots. The room was absolutely silent—every person hanging on his every word. And how could you not? Harry’s voice alone captivated you. A velvet mix of authority and intrigue. He could easily narrate a movie or even be that voice guiding you through The Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. Seriously. It’s that good. If Harry ever gave up his day job, he’d have a killer career as a voiceover artist. You could listen to him talk for hours—and you’d want to. Unbelievable.

And Now, the REST of the Story…
Wannasingh Parthasarathy—try saying that three times fast—wrapped up the day with a soulful dispatch titled, “The Quest for Meaning: Around the World to Find My Way Home.” It was the kind of talk that makes you itch for a plane ticket, a backpack, and the guts to just go.

Dinner that night? A short stroll down the street to MoomMuum, where I found solace in a plate of chicken and cashew nuts so perfect it might as well have been a hymn. Crisp, fragrant, and utterly satisfying. Afterward, I pulled another one of my signature Irish goodbyes—no fanfare, no fuss—and slipped back to my hotel for a quiet retreat. On the way back did I swing by Nana Square to watch the ladyboys dance? Well, that’s a story best left to your imagination. Let’s just say the night had its… flavors.

A Rollerskating Jam Named Saturday
Saturday kicked off with a bang, thanks to my friend Francis Tapon—a guy who doesn’t just “visit’ a place like Madagascar; he takes the road less traveled. Actually, scratch that—he hikes the road that doesn’t even exist. The man trekked across the island, machete-style, and paid for it with more near-death experiences than I’d care to count.

Let’s talk highlights—or lowlights, depending on your perspective. At one point, Francis managed to impale himself on a stick. A stick. Right through his back, like a grim kebab, as he hurled his body through the thick, unrelenting foliage. Yeah, Madagascar was one of my favorite countries too, but you’d have to offer me more than a million bucks to sign up for that kind of madness.

Francis? He’s a daredevil, a warrior, and, sure, an inspiration. Mostly, though, he’s a reminder to leave certain adventures to the professionals—and stick to the less impaling paths in life.

Mama Mia
Next on stage was Elena Chechina—a Russian mom who not only travels the world with her young kids (a feat in itself) but also managed to marry her tour guide in Mauritania. Yeah, you heard that right. From a family road trip to a romantic plot twist in the Sahara, her story was proof that the road sometimes gives you way more than postcards and souvenirs.

After Elena’s session, the crowd split into break-out groups. Lucy Hsu and Caroline Lupini led a deep dive into the art of traveling as a woman—a mix of grit, grace, and some serious life hacks. Meanwhile, Stefan Krasowski and Candace Keen hosted a masterclass on gaming the system of points and miles. But don’t think Vegas buffets and all-inclusive Hawaiin resorts. These two are playing chess while most of the world is playing checkers, jetting off to places most people can’t even find on a map. Far, deep, and on someone else’s dime? That’s a hustle I can respect.

Zubstitute Teacher
Post-lunch, we got a dose of wisdom from Orest Zub, a guy whose partnership with NomadMania has him firmly planted in the “knows his stuff” category. Think of him as the sage you’d want guiding your journey—sharp, grounded, and unapologetically passionate about the road. And here’s a twist: Orest hit pause on his globe-trotting adventures to step into something far more visceral. He went back to Ukraine, his homeland, not for a visit, but to pick up a weapon and fight in the war. A traveler turned defender, trading passports for purpose. If that doesn’t spell Badass with a capital B, I don’t what does.

Herstory Class
Next came a multigenerational deep dive into women’s travel, courtesy of Elizabeth Makei, Aida Karamesic, and Jane Eagleson. Their ages spanned decades, their insights spanned lifetimes. It wasn’t just a panel; it was a conversation rich with perspective, knowledge, and stories that could fill volumes. The kind of talk that makes you realize travel isn’t just about where you go—it’s about the lens you take with you.

Harry Mitsidis came back for an encore, and I enjoyed a cameo from Loic Pedras, diving into the world of passport indexes—which passports hold power, and which ones will leave you sweating in a customs line? Let’s just say, not all travel documents are created equal.

Just in Thai(m)
And then came the day’s pièce de résistance: Joe Cummings. Best-selling author, OG Lonely Planet guidebook writer, and a man who’s been living and breathing Thailand across six decades. Back before the internet, before every beach had its influencer-in-residence, Joe was there—navigating a country still untouched by the tsunami of mass tourism. His stories? Straight out of a movie script, with cameos that would make a rock star jealous.

Speaking of rock stars, Joe casually drops that he was Mick Jagger’s personal Thailand tour guide. Cue jaw drops. As he shared photos from the 70s, through the decades, to now—there he was, the ultimate storyteller and unofficial ambassador of Thailand. If this convention had a crown jewel, Joe was it. The man is a living, breathing reminder of why we hit the road in the first place: for the stories, the connections, and the thrill of seeing a world through eyes that have truly lived it.

Dinner with a View
Dinner that night found me fully dialed in for the first time all weekend—a rooftop soirée on the 30th floor of the Hyatt Regency. The drinks poured freely, the food hit all the right notes, and the vibe? Pure Bangkok magic.

Between trips to the buffet, we were treated to local cultural performances—elegant, rhythmic reminders of where we were. But the real showstopper? The conversations. Fellow attendees, super-travelers, and global nomads swapping tales under a sky that melted from fiery orange to inky blue.

And that view. Bangkok at sunset is a kind of poetry you can’t fake—a sprawling, electric, endlessly alive city glowing in the golden hour. If heaven has a rooftop, it probably looks a lot like this.

Straight to Jail
Day three at ETF kicked off with a gut-punch of a story, one that you don’t forget anytime soon. Our surprise guest? Tommy Sabbatical, fresh out of a Siberian prison—literally days ago.

Tommy had been traveling through Russia, doing what travelers do: capturing the world through his lens. Except, this time, that lens landed on a bridge, and suddenly he was slammed with bogus charges. The kind of charges that turn your passport into a liability and your freedom into a question mark. Siberian jail isn’t a metaphor—it was his reality. Cold, uncertain, and terrifyingly real.

This is the nightmare every extreme traveler keeps tucked in the back of their mind. If your mission is to see every country, you can’t just cherry-pick the easy ones. You have to walk into the lion’s den—the hostile nations, the powder kegs, the places where diplomacy barely flickers. And there’s always that chance, however slim, that you’ll become the unlucky pawn in someone else’s political game.

Tommy rolled the dice, and it came up snake eyes. Luckily, after a handful of days, he was deported instead of forgotten. His story was a raw, visceral reminder of the stakes—and the courage it takes to keep going.

They See me Rollin’
What can you even say about Rene Bruns? She’s the kind of traveler who puts all your complaints about delayed flights and lumpy hotel mattresses into perspective. Champagne problems, folks. Rene travels the world—solo—in a wheelchair. And her stories? Equal parts humbling and jaw-dropping.

Picture this: crawling up and down flights of stairs because there’s no ramp. Or the time her wheelchair didn’t make it to her destination. And then there’s Morocco—a wheel snaps on her chair, and suddenly she’s stranded. Cue a group of strangers who jump in without hesitation, one guy even cannibalizing a screw from his own motorcycle to get her back on the road.

Rene is resilience personified, a rolling testament to the good still left in humanity. Her stories aren’t just about overcoming—they’re about reminding the rest of us to quit sweating the small stuff. Travel hiccups? Minor inconveniences. Her message hits like a freight train, and yeah, I won’t lie, it was hard to keep it together. A tear or two might have slipped out. I’m blaming the onions from the nearby buffet, but let’s be real—it was Rene.

Matt Bowles hit the stage like the kind of New Yorker who could hold court at a café in Paris just as easily as a dive bar in Brooklyn. Sharp, articulate, and unapologetically nomadic, he shared the gospel of life on the road. This is a guy who runs multiple businesses and a podcast, all from his laptop, wherever that happens to be.

But what stuck with me was his take on living somewhere versus just breezing through. He’s right. A stamp in your passport and a selfie at the local landmark don’t cut it. I personally spent a couple of years living in Brasil, and that’s when you really start to get it—the rhythm, the quirks, the soul of a place. Residing somewhere is stepping into its heartbeat. Visiting? That’s just skimming the surface.

Matt’s life isn’t just about travel—it’s about immersion, connection, and building something meaningful no matter where you are. That’s a lesson worth packing.

Next up was my good friend, tour guide, and international celebrity in his own right, Fadi Assi. If you’re thinking about Syria, Fadi’s your guy—he runs Golden Team Tours out of Damascus and has been the gatekeeper for more than a few curious souls wanting to see the country. He’s the reason I was the first American in years to get into Syria, and trust me, I’ll be signing up for another tour with him as soon as I can. Fadi’s basically the Middle Eastern version of The World’s Most Interesting Man. If you ever wondered what it’d be like to live life like a legend, he’s doing it every damn day.

C’mon Ride the Train
At the same time, Richard Barrow, “the man” when it comes to Asian train travel, was unveiling his ultimate itinerary for riding the rails across Southeast Asia. I thought I was walking into another pitch for some glamorous Orient Express fantasy, but this wasn’t your standard luxury ride. No, Richard was piecing together a journey that stretched all the way from Malaysia to China, with so many stops and twists, it’d take you months just to figure it all out on your own. This wasn’t a simple trip. It was a rail odyssey—a complicated, thrilling puzzle of trains, routes, and hacks, and Richard? He’s the sensei. The guy’s got the keys to the kingdom, and if you’re serious about this kind of travel, he’ll show you every shortcut, every secret, and every trick in the book.

After lunch, we had the chance to meet the moderators of my all-time favorite Facebook group: Every Passport Stamp. And let me tell you, it was the first time I raised my hand not to ask a question, but just to gush. I’m not usually one for fanboying, but this group? It’s been the most valuable tool in my entire social media toolbox.

With over 30,000 members, it’s a private, no-nonsense space where travelers exchange the kind of info you can’t find in a guidebook or on Google. I’m talking about the real, down-and-dirty stuff—the local secrets. Want to track down the only aardvark herder in Moldova or need a fixer in Guinea who can get you across the border into Sierra Leone by motorcycle? You drop a post, and in minutes, you’ll have a dozen names and WhatsApp numbers to work with. It’s a treasure trove of knowledge for the kind of extreme traveler who needs more than just a restaurant recommendation.

I believe that social media, in general, has turned into a toxic cesspool. But Every Passport Stamp? That’s a lifeline. It’s the real deal in a sea of crap, and I don’t know how I’d navigate the world of travel without it.

99 (Passport) Problems
Next up was Raiiq Ridwan, and his presentation was a hard slap of reality, reminding me just how much I take my privilege as a U.S. passport holder for granted. Now, I hate the overuse of the word “privilege”—it’s been bastardized and thrown around too much—but in this case, it’s spot on.

People outside the travel community don’t always realize just how staggeringly unequal passports are. Every country’s passport has a ranking based on its power. By power, I mean how easily you can wave that little book and waltz into other countries—no hassle, no headache. Take UAE: home to the most powerful passport in the world, giving you access to 127 countries visa-free, allowing you to enter with nothing more than a smile. Meanwhile, Yemen? If you’re holding a Yemeni passport, good luck. You’re not exactly going to be welcomed with open arms, and the places that might let you in will demand an avalanche of paperwork—proof of address, financial records, invitation letters, even medical history.

It’s a stark reminder of how much the passport you carry defines where you can go and how easy (or difficult) it is to get there. And the real kicker? The contrast is brutal. Some passports are golden tickets to the world, while others are little more than a burden.

Raiiq is a traveler with one of the “lesser” passports, and his story hit hard. He stood up in front of us, detailing the constant obstacles he faces as a Bangladeshi passport holder. Beyond the mountain of paperwork I just mentioned, Raiiq’s had some real nightmares. Take his arrival in Senegal, for example. He had the visa. Everything was in order. But none of that mattered. The second the immigration officer saw his Bangladeshi passport, they threw him in a cell. No reason. Just… they didn’t like his passport.

This is a guy who’s a doctor living in the UK, trying to see the world like anyone else. But for many immigration officials, his story didn’t make sense. They’d hear his reason for visiting—holiday, leisure—and they’d shoot back with that same tired question: “Okay, but why really are you here?” It’s as if they couldn’t fathom someone from Bangladesh simply wanting to enjoy their country.

It’s heartbreaking. Here’s a guy being stopped, questioned, or just outright denied entry because of where he’s from. And yet, there he is, undeterred, pushing forward. You can’t help but feel for him, but at the same time, you have to respect his unbreakable determination. It’s a hell of a thing to watch someone keep going despite the odds. You know the world can be a brutal place, but Raiiq’s resolve? That’s the kind of thing that makes you believe in the possibility of change.

He Did What? And How???
And then came the coup de grâce: the final presentation of the conference. Thor Pedersen, a man who, like many of us in the room, has been to every country in the world. But here’s the twist: Thor didn’t set foot on a single plane for the entire journey. Not once. Oh, and he didn’t go home until it was done. Just sit with that for a second. Ten years. All 193 countries. No flights.

Sure, you can romanticize the idea for places like Europe, South America, maybe even parts of Asia. But Africa? The whole damn continent by land? That’s borderline masochistic. Libya? Somalia? There are stretches in those places where you’re literally not supposed to leave the city. I’d consider myself pretty daring, but even I wouldn’t dream of pulling something like that. And then there’s the Pacific. Pro tip: there aren’t cruises headed to Nauru, Tuvalu, or Kiribati. Thor? He hitched rides on cargo ships. Let that sink in.

The room was absolutely glued to every word. At one point, Thor dropped to his knees, re-living the moment he almost broke down, ready to quit. And yeah, Thor’s a legend in our world—famous among travelers, internationally known since his journey went viral—but in person? He’s the real deal. Humble, grounded, genuinely curious about your story, even though his feels like it was pulled straight out of an epic film.

Speaking of which, there’s a movie. We got a sneak peek at the trailer, and let me tell you—Thor’s story on the big screen is going to be electric. I’m counting the days until it comes out. A perfect closer, a perfect headliner, and an unforgettable way to wrap up the weekend.

And The Award Goes to…
The conference didn’t truly wrap until the grand finale: the NomadMania Travel Awards—a celebration of wanderlust royalty. Categories like Most Purposeful Traveler, Best Digital Travel Creator, and Best Low Passport Index Traveler(shoutout to Raiiq’s subject) highlighted the many shades of exploration. The event had all the glitz and drama of the Oscars, with hosts Dondon Bales and Lucy Hsu delivering performances so polished they could easily make this their day job.

Less Bangkok for my Buck
I didn’t get to see much of Bangkok this time around. No floating markets, no golden temples. And trust me, I’d planned on sneaking out—more than once. I even had my escape routes mapped, ready to trade conference chairs for Thai streets. But every single time I was about to make my move, another story pulled me right back into my seat. ETF was that damn good. Every moment was worth staying for.

I’d be remiss not to mention the cultural flair woven into the conference. Traditional dancers, a vibrant parade of women in classic Thai attire, photo ops with a custom tuk-tuk, and endless spreads of local food and drink—each moment felt like a love letter to Thailand. The surprises kept coming, turning the hotel into a microcosm of the country itself. I didn’t even need to step outside to get a taste of the magic.

Khoob-Khun, Ric (Thank You, Ric)
I’ve got to give a heartfelt shoutout—not just to the speakers but to every traveler I met this week. So many of these faces were familiar from years of Facebook posts and comments, but finally meeting them in person? That was magic. These are the folks whose adventures I’ve followed, whose advice I’ve sought for those tricky, off-the-grid trips. A few have even leaned on my blog for tips. Seeing them on my computer screen was one thing; shaking hands, breaking bread, and swapping stories in person was something else entirely. If I missed mentioning a speaker or two, forgive me—I did my best to play the perfect student, but even a Sultan needs the occasional bathroom break.

And finally, a massive hats-off to the man who brought it all together: Ric Gazarian. Ric’s one of those rare souls who seems to live for lifting others up. He’s not about bragging on himself—he’s all about amplifying other people’s stories, giving them the platform they deserve. I’ll never forget when he showed up, unannounced, to see me (or rather, The Sultan) at MicroCon in Joliet, Illinois. That’s Ric—always rooting for someone else, always selfless. The world needs more people like him. He’s not just a great guy; he’s an international treasure.

And let’s just say this—I’m hooked. You can count on me showing up to every ETF from here on out. No question.

You can learn more about The Extraordinary Travel Festival HERE.

And listen to Ric’s Counting Countries podcast HERE.