It probably won't come as a surprise to hear that Maui is a popular vacation destination this time of year. With the recent bout of cold that's been gripping the nation, the idea of a warm, tropical island sounds pretty nice to anyone shoveling snow.

It isn't just the warmth that makes Maui such a popular winter hotspot, however; it's also the whales.

Every winter thousands of North Pacific humpback whales make the long swim south from their feeding grounds in waters off of Alaska to the protected waters of Maui County. The whales, which migrate to Maui, form the densest population of humpbacks found anywhere in the world, and during the peak of the Maui whale watching season it isn't possible to look out at the water for more than two minutes without seeing a splash or a spout. Whale watching charters operate from dawn to dusk shuttling snap-happy visitors out to get a closer look, and for many, the experience is a pinnacle of their vacation.

In the case of these two Maui scuba divers, however, instead of going out to watch the whales themselves, the whales decided to stop in and pay them a visit as they hung out on the ocean floor at a depth of 180 feet. Just to add some spice to the already heart stopping moment, a few sharks decide to visit the divers just for good measure.

If this sounds just a little bit insane, these are the same people who are behind the "Black Coral" documentary we reported on back in May, and encounters such as this are almost to be expected from this bunch.

So although tens of thousands of Maui visitors will embark on whale watching charters this winter, we can guarantee that none of them are going to get a sighting quite like this.

When I was 4 years old I had my picture taken by a large group of Japanese tourists.

While this in and of itself is slightly strange, the curious part of the story is where it happened. I was seated with my family – mom, dad, and infant baby sister – while casually enjoying a lunch of hot dogs on the lawn of the Washington Monument.

Having exhausted whatever amount of historical appreciation you can muster out of a scraggly-haired child, we had taken to more leisurely pursuits such as having a picnic on the grassy lawn. Ketchup packets were opened, a blanket was laid out, and mustard-stained fingertips clutched bright red Coke cans as we washed down the average hot dogs.

Nothing special about this situation at all. Just a family enjoying a casual lunch on a summer day in the nation's capital.

For some, however, that scene evidently wasn't so normal. To a gaggle of camera-toting Japanese tourists engaged in a tour of Washington D.C., we were apparently something more. Perhaps it was Yoshi who had the thought first, and he subsequently told Shigeki who told Yuuki that there was one more sight they still hadn't photographed.

Lenses were pointed, flashbulbs popped, and a chorus of "oohs," "aahs," and "hai!" percolated through the curious mob. Eventually, the perplexed look on my father's face prompted one of them to reveal their fascination.

With a nervous smile and an awkward half-bow, one of the tourists let us in on their sudden fixation:

"You are, American family, yes?"

Apparently, right there beneath the spire of the Washington Monument, our troupe of four civilians had been mistaken for an official exhibit of a hot dog-eating, Coke-drinking, blanket-sitting, American family. To us, this was a normal thing to do. To the Japanese tourists, however, this was worthy of six-dozen photos.

As I squeeze the last bits of orange garnish into my pint of Blue Moon, a man to my left is having his nostrils plugged by a gyrating set of female genitals.

Releasing him from the flesh cave, the attractive blonde stripper – to the immense enjoyment of the sophomoric and semi-erect set of friends he's brought with him – suddenly doubles around and stiffly slaps a hand across his clean shaven face. This is my fourth strip club of the night, and even I didn't see that coming. It's all part of her shtick, however, and from the look of things the two are no more than 10 minutes from a trip to a private room.

No, this isn't some testosterone fueled frat party, it's just another night out in Portland, Oregon, strip club capital USA.

Despite the fact that this northwestern city is lauded for its microbrews, coffee and eco-friendly public transport, believe it or not, Portland is also home to more strip clubs per capita than any other city in America. Not Las Vegas. Not Detroit. Portland.

So just like the brilliant minds that put together Strip City, the documentary featured above, I, too, came to Portland on a mission to try and find out what it is that keeps the city so excessively nude.

Airport baggage claims are very strange places. Industrial, drab, and rarely decorated, they are metal cauldrons of human emotion.

One the one hand, you have happy families reuniting with each other where shrieks, hugs, and the occasional "I'm going to briefly straddle you in public and disguise it as a hug" move are common practice. Then, on the other hand, you have weary travelers running on three hours of sleep who find themselves dealing with airline agents who are filing claims for luggage that has simply up and vanished. In few places do so much joy and so much despair exist beneath the same roof.

In the middle of the baggage claim, however, are the rest of us who haven't yet received a hug, yet also haven't received our bags. With one eye scanning the crowd for our welcoming party, and the other nervously watching the luggage belt, it's as if hundreds of people are emotionally stuck in neutral.

Which is why we found it so entertaining that Brussels Airlines in a recent holiday stunt decided to take a few passengers out of neutral and instead put them into drive. Placing a present amidst the baggage and openly disguising it as a free gift, all that was required for someone to claim the prize was simply to reach down and examine the present.

This, however, is not a natural thing to do. With airport security loudspeakers constantly warning us of unaccompanied luggage, this is in some ways akin to a windowless van with a sign that says "free candy". Nevertheless, a few lucky passengers decided to test their better judgement and pick up the package.

The result? Two free tickets to anywhere within Europe. A Merry Christmas indeed!

When it comes to travel there are really only two forces that drive us to the destinations we visit.

Either we hear about them from somewhere else, or we stumble upon those we know nothing about.

In the case of the Nicaraguan rodeo, that was a stumble. For nearly anywhere else, however, either we have read about it in a book, learned about in school, watched a documentary about it on television, see it featured in a magazine, or heard from a friend that this place is amazing and you should go visit if you ever get a chance.

In the case of Placerville, California, however, I learned of it through somewhat of a unique channel ... eavesdropping.

While working as crew on a sailboat in Hawaii, I once overheard the conversation of a visiting couple about their recent day spent in a place called Placerville.

"I don't know about that place," the rotund, slightly graying woman mentioned to her neighbor on the catamaran. "There was something eerie about it. It's just so far removed from everything, and if I were a mass murderer on the run from the law that's definitely where I would go. Placerville."

For reasons unbeknownst to me, this conversation – which I wasn't even a part of – stuck with me for the better part of a decade. I would see the name "Placerville" on a map and would immediately picture outlaws. Someone would mention the name Placerville and I would feel compelled to ask if they had seen any mass murderers.

Given this strange fascination, I was recently taken aback when my wife asked me if I wanted to go wine tasting and apple picking for the day.

"Sure", I agreed. "Where are we going?"

"Placerville."

Gallery: Dueling Worlds of Placerville, California

When I first heard of Airbnb it sounded like Couchsurfing but without the creepiness.

Now don't get me wrong, I love the concept of couchsurfing, but for some people the idea of crashing on someone's couch/bed/floor/kitchen for completely free sounds a little too good to be true. There must be a catch, right? (For the record, there often isn't. It's just nice people who want to meet travelers, including the Bedouin guy in Jordan who lets people couch surf in his cave).

Which is why when Airbnb came along it seemed a bit more, how shall we say, legitimate.

Sure, you're still sleeping in a stranger's house, but since they're charging you money all the psychological weirdness about the situation goes right out the window. It's kind of like a hotel, but in someone's house, and thereby it's much more acceptable. Right?

Well, according to a recent article by the New York Times, in many cases that's exactly the problem.

In this trying economy it would only make sense that people rent out an extra room in their house as a means of supplementing their income, but according to the New York Times article, many local laws aren't exactly accepting of this win/win form of subletting.

The article cites a man in New York City who hosted guests in his East Village apartment, only to see his landlord slapped with $40,000 in fines for violating local laws. Out in Maui, where I live, anyone caught operating a "transient vacation rental" without a permit can be subjected to fines of $1,000/day if caught by the local authorities, so the issue is one, which spans both sides of the country.

If you're one of those people who goes down to the local swimming pool and attempts to swim the length of the pool twice without coming up for a breath, I have news for you:

Stig Severinsen owns you.

In the YouTube video above, the record-holding, freediving Dane (who also casually has a PhD in medicine) shatters the Guinness world record for longest freedive beneath ice on a single breath of air.

Oh yeah, and he's in a Speedo.

Sure, this happened in March, 2010, but who cares? The concept alone is insane and the video is astonishing and wildly entertaining. Notice that when he successfully pops out of the icy cold water he opts to flash the "OK" sign, speak in English for some unbeknownst reason, and then casually relax with his bare arms on the ice sheet as if it's a post-massage hot tub session at the resort.

Just for fun, let's just look at a few more pieces of trivia for the intriguing Dr. Severinsen. According to his Wikipedia page, this 39-year-old human lung enjoyed such childhood pursuits as underwater rugby (in which he competed for the Danish National team), and also dabbled in underwater hockey (where he strangely enough competed for the Spanish National Team).

Combining his love of breath holding with yoga and physiology, the adult Stig set out to redefine the realm of possibility by shattering numerous freediving and Guinness World Records.

Around the same time of this stunt, Stig set a second Guinness record by holding his breath for 20 minutes and 10 seconds in a tropical swimming pool. Oh wait, that's right. It wasn't a swimming pool. It was a tropical shark tank. As if being the only human to ever hold his breath underwater for 20 minutes wasn't enough, he decided to immerse himself in a cauldron of sharks.

Not one to rest on his laurels, however, Stig would break his own record two years later by holding his breath for 22 minutes, and for his efforts he was subsequently declared to be "The Ultimate Superhuman" by the Discovery Channel.

Move over Dos Equis man; Stig Severinsen might just be the most interesting man in the world.

There is a bit of contention with regards to where exactly the most remote place on Earth actually is.

Most lists you encounter will feature the usual suspects such as the island of Tristan da Cunha, the village of Ittoqqortoormiit (Greenland), the Svalbard archipelago (Norway) and McMurdo Station (Antarctica). Just last month we published one such list right here on Gadling.

Nevertheless, in every one of these lists there is one place, which is always conspicuously absent.

No, it's not the town of La Rinconada, Peru, a mining outpost, which sits 17,000 feet up on the slopes of a permanent glacier. That's usually on there too. Geographically speaking, the world's most isolated landmass is a place known as...

Hawaii.

Wait. What? Hawaii? There are over 4 million visitors a year to the island of Oahu alone. I can watch a bad movie on the airplane, take a nap, and I'm there. How is Hawaii remote?

While many of the places mentioned above may be unique in their inaccessibility, technically, the Hawaiian Islands are the most isolated populated landmass found anywhere on the planet, with the closest point of continental land being 2,400 miles away (California).

Given the fact that Hawaii is accessible, I surmise, must be the reason it never makes the list of places, which are "remote."

What if, however, you set out to experience one of the least accessible places in all of Hawaii. The foremost outpost in the world's most isolated island chain? A place where there are no hotels, no roads, or really any trails. A place you cannot fly to, drive to, or barely even walk to. What sort of remoteness exists out there?

That was the question in everyone's mind as we set sail for the north shore of Molokai on a catamaran loaded with surfboards, beer and a number of lingering unknowns.

As strange as it sounds, according to a recent release from National Geographic, there is an elephant named Koshik who actually speaks Korean.

Six years ago the staff of Korea's Everland Zoo knew something was up when Koshik, an Asian elephant, kept putting his trunk in his mouth and mimicking what appeared to be Korean words.

After sending the footage of Koshik off to researchers who specialize in speaking elephants (yes, that job exists), six years later it appears that Koshik, does, in fact, have a six-word Korean vocabulary which is believed to be derived from mimicking his trainers.

As if a Korean speaking elephant wasn't strange enough, researchers explain that somehow Koshik has found a way to "Macgyver his vocal tract" (when was the last time you said that?) by placing the tip of his trunk in his mouth to accommodate for the fact that elephants don't have the proper cheek and lip structure to make an "o" sound.

In the associated video, which goes along with the post, Koshik can clearly be seen curling his trunk up into his mouth while reciting the Korean words for "hello," "no," "good" and "sit down."

The article states that what is apparently most important in the development of speaking animals is that the animal have a strong social relationship with its trainers or owners. Allegedly, there was once a beluga whale in San Diego, which could mimic the conversations of its trainers, and Koshik similarly has been raised almost exclusively by Korean zoo staff.

Other than a parrot, have you ever heard of other animals speaking to humans?

[Photo Credit: Heather Ellison]

What would you say if I told you there was a magical machine that combined scuba diving with hang gliding, required no training, and offered a way to fly past fish and outrace turtles?

You'd probably tell me I was on hallucinogens.

In all seriousness though, with the recent invention of the Subwing system, divers are able to tow behind a moving boat and actually glide beneath the water instead of up on top of it. It's kind of like wakeboarding underwater, or snorkeling on steroids. The jury is really still out on that one.

Invented by a team of Norwegians who came up with the idea while sailing through the Greek Islands, the Subwing system is even compatible with its own GoPro setup so that divers can record their underwater antics.

What's interesting is that – despite looking fun and easy – a rudimentary version of this system has been employed by friends of mine in Hawaii for nearly a decade. An upside down, concave boogie board with a hard bottom replaced the Subwing, and a standard nylon rope was run through holes bored into the upside down board. The result is the same ability to be towed behind a moving boat and fly past stationary coral heads at what feels like decently high speeds.

The problem, however, is that despite only traveling at 2-4 knots (as the Subwing website also suggests), since water is 800 times denser than air, the strain on your neck should you try to look to the side during your "flight" is actually rather strong. Without this peripheral ability it's difficult to see something such as, say, an approaching turtle coming in hot from your port side. When I did this back in 2003 I nearly caught a face-full of turtle.

Nevertheless, this is an invention I am all for and one which continues to push the boundaries of conventional watersports.