Does the mere thought of street food set your stomach to rumbling? If so, you'll want to get yourself to Singapore– the world's unofficial street food (or, technically, hawker centre)– capital. The city is hosting the World Streetfood Congress May 31-June 9. Don't let the stern-sounding name fool you: this 10-day event is all about hedonism, snackie-style.

In addition to a World Streetfood Jamboree featuring the "best street food masters" from all over the world, there are also demos, a first-of-its-kind awards ceremony, discussions on "street food opportunities," live music, and more.

For those in the F & B industry, a two-day conference, The World Street Food Dialogues, will be held June 3-4. It will feature noted speakers/street food experts such as Anthony Bourdain, Saveur magazine editor-in-chief James Oseland, Brett Burmeister, managing editor and co-owner of Food Carts Portland, and Singapore's beloved KF Seetoh, chef, food writer, and founder of the Makansutra food centre and "foodbooks." Makansutra is also the organizer of the World Streetfood Congress.

For details and tickets, click here. Your path to enlightenment via assam laksa, kue pankong, nasi kapau, mee siam, fish tacos, and chuoi nuong awaits.

I arrived at the Concepción bus terminal at 11 p.m. amid cracks of thunder so loud they would have triggered car alarms, if the town's horse-and-carts, scooters and clapped-out old junkers were equipped with them. As it was, there was no real taxi, so I just had to trust that the obese guy with the beady eyes and crappy Korean import really was a cabdriver. He considerately allowed me to carry and toss my 40-pound backpack into the car, and then we peeled out of the parking lot, radio blaring.

Fortunately, he took me straight to my destination – a "cheap" hotel I'd heard about that I immediately deduced was pulling double-duty as a brothel (it was). But it was late, I'd just landed in Paraguay at 2 a.m. that morning, and then spent 10 hours on a bus from Asunción. Theoretically, it takes seven hours, but welcome to transportation in Paraguay; the original bus broke down and we had to wait on the side of the road for a replacement vehicle. I was exhausted. I paid eight dollars for a room, trying to ignore the creepy guys chugging beers in the adjacent bar area. As I crossed the courtyard, the skies broke open and a monsoonal deluge poured down.

Soaked to the skin, I unlocked my room and discovered that it more closely resembled a prison cell. As a tidal wave of rainwater flowed from beneath the door, I frantically moved my pack to the bed (is there such a thing as crabs-to-pack transmission?), and put away my phone charger, which I had just been about to insert into an outlet. My impression of rural Paraguay was off to a bumpy start.

Gallery: Concepcion, Paraguay

As we've continued to report at Gadling, a new generation of culinary tours is on the rise. Food-loving travelers want more than generic cooking classes that teach how to make pad thai in Thailand or risotto in Tuscany. And a few companies – such as Destination Hotels & Resorts, North America's fourth largest hotel management company – are complying by offering tours and classes that focus more on culture, locality and experiential elements.

With the launch of Destination Discoveries, hotel guests can tour the on-site apiary at Kirkland, Washington's, The Woodmark, before taking a honey-themed cooking class with Chef Dylan Giordan. On Maui, personalized farm tours enable participants to harvest ingredients for a private class in their accommodation, as well as visit producers and sample handcrafted foods from the island.

The adventures aren't just limited to food. There are also art, literature and active themes that reflect a sense of place; fly-fishing lessons in Lake Tahoe; nordic pursuits in Vail; art classes in Santa Fe; or a cultural and historic tour of Walden Pond via the Bedford Glen property in Boston. Here's to more hotel groups doing away with homogenous travel.

[Photo credit: Destination Hotels & Resorts]

If you travel, without question you've had your share of experiences with "Chinglish," or other corrupted forms of the English language. After all, there are books and websites devoted to this stuff. But while trekking in Bolivia last month, I discovered an entirely new form of linguistic weirdness, in the form of a tag on my (outfitter-supplied) tent.

It was a brand I'd never heard of, called Alpkit, and the tent had no information as to its origin. You can imagine my befuddlement upon reading this after a full day of trekking at 15,000 feet. I thought perhaps I was hallucinating.

Now that I'm home, I've discovered that Alpkit is a UK outfitter, and upon reviewing their site, I realize the above is entirely tongue-in-cheek. That doesn't make it any less amusing. Here's to more gear manufacturers having a sense of humor.

[Photo credit: Laurel Miller]

Melbourne-based Intrepid Travel – known for its cultural and food-focused trips to remote corners of the planet – is now offering 20 percent off over 350 of their trips, including the newly-launched Food Adventures. The discount is good for all trips departing before August 31, 2013.

Last fall, Intrepid partnered up with The Perennial Plate, which documents these culinary adventures in bi-weekly video clips. If that's not inspiration enough, check out these "Summer of Adventure" trips on offer: Northern Spain (Barcelona to San Sebastian), India (Delhi to Goa), and Vietnam (Hanoi to Ho Chi Minh City).

The trips run from four to 14 days, and have been designed in collaboration with renowned chefs, cookbook authors and other food experts, including Susan Feniger and Tracey Lister. Trip prices include accommodation, ground transportation, a local guide, activities listed on the itinerary and, in many cases, cooking classes, meals with locals and trips to local markets.

[Photo credit: Intrepid Travel]

Camping season is almost officially here, and that means it's a good time to take stock of your gear. Maybe it's time for an upgrade? If you live in or are planning camping trips in warm, dry climates, allow me to suggest an easy, affordable addition to your arsenal.

Hammock camping is becoming increasingly popular amongst car-campers and backpackers alike. Unless you enjoy camping in volcanic calderas, sand dunes, or similarly treeless places, ultralight hammocks are a great way to conserve weight and space. Best of all, they provide a more outdoorsy experience, yet allow you to remain high and dry, elevated from debris and critters (for those of you who are used to sleeping open-air on the ground). Many versions are enclosed, providing mosquito and rain shelter, although if you tend toward claustrophobia, you may want to stick with a traditional version.

For backpackers/campers like me, who suffer bad backs, a hammock can be either a blessing or a curse. Personally, I go for ultralight gear, and am more comfortable dealing with spinal curvature; it all depends upon your particular affliction and preferences. For my purposes, hammock camping is the ultimate for whitewater trips, because trees are abundant, ground conditions can be less than ideal, and I relish being out in the open.

Ultralight hammocks are generally made from parachute nylon; look for one that's mildew-resistant, and make sure it comes with a stuff sack so you can test its compression size. Last summer, at a street fair in Boulder, I even saw an ultralight all-in-one daypack and hammock. Check sites like REI or Backcountry.com, and be sure that whatever you buy comes with no-questions-asked return policy should you be less than thrilled.

[Photo credit: Flickr user andrewmalone]

I'd never heard of a shaman until my first class on my first day of college. I'd signed up for "Magic, Witchcraft, & Religion" as an elective on a whim. It turned out to be one of my favorite undergrad classes and has been highly inspirational to my work as a travel writer.

The instructor was a short, plump woman of a certain age. She'd lived on a Hopi reservation while working on her doctoral thesis. She looked so exotic, always bedecked with ropes of beads, silver and turquoise necklaces and rings, and dangly earrings. She wore colorful indigenous skirts and told incredible stories, some of them involving the words "peyote" and "ayuhuasca." She'd traveled all over the world. I wanted to be her.

So, it's no surprise that I developed a fascination for indigenous cultures. Perhaps one of the reasons I find them so absorbing is because I don't subscribe to any religion myself, so I find the concepts of animism, polytheism and shamanism particularly interesting. I'm spiritually bankrupt myself, although I studied holistic massage in the '90s (big mistake), and through that developed a respect for certain alternative modalities of medicine.

But fortune-telling? Soul cleansing? Killing endangered species and then ingesting their body parts in foul-tasting teas? Um, no thank you. I find this stuff interesting, but I don't believe in it, nor do I endorse anything that involves sacrificial offerings in the name of fortune, fertility or romance.

I once had my palm read on a press trip in Hong Kong. The fortune-teller, a wizened old man, examined my hand (at the time cracked and callused from my part-time jobs as a farmers market vendor and waitress), and asked my translator, "Why no marry? If no marry by 40, never marry. Health good, feet not so good." Still single at 44, that asshole may well have sealed my fate, but on the other hand, my feet are in good shape.

Gallery: A Visit To A Bolivian Medicine Woman

If you're a traveler, then you're a Kayaker. Not a paddler, but a devotee of Kayak.com, the airline (and hotel and rental car) search engine that makes booking the lowest fares a breeze. If you're a traveler, then you've also probably cursed the fact that a similar site doesn't exist for bus and rail travel.

We can now count our blessings, thanks to Wanderu. According to Thrillist, this ingenious domestic search engine offers "hundreds of routes, operators, and schedules into a free, trip-aggregating database." You can even make bookings, which is like a giant gift from the Travel Gods.

As soon as Wanderu or a competitor makes this info available for international travel, budget travelers won't have anything left to complain about – except maybe the quality of their guesthouse banana pancakes.

[Photo credit: Flickr user DavidDennisPhotos.com]

Why is 2013 the year to get to Asunción, Paraguay's, lovely, riverfront capital? Because this landlocked tropical nation sandwiched between Boliva, Brazil and Argentina is modernizing at warp speed. Tourism is still a rarity (expect curious looks, especially if you venture into the countryside – and you most definitely should), but the city offers enough inexpensive, low-key pleasures to make spending a few days more than worthwhile.

While not as cheap as, say, La Paz, Asunción is still ridiculously affordable, especially if you're not looking for luxury accommodations (lodging and cabs are pricey, compared to everything else). Spend your days in the laid-back downtown, or centro, visiting the shops, market stalls and restaurants; stroll La Costanera, the two-mile riverfront walkway in the centro; take a small boat to the nearby island of Chaco'i to check out the bird life; hit the town (Asuncion has quite the nightlife, because that's when things finally "cool off"); or just do as Asuncenos do: kick back in the Plaza with a refreshing tereré (cold mate tea, often spiked with fresh medicinal herbs called yuyos) and watch the world go by (empanada in hand).

Although Paraguay is reputed to be South America's second poorest country, Asunción's centro has the feel of prosperity. The country is rich in cattle ranching, soy exports and other agricultural food crops and is the continent's only officially bilingual nation, thanks to the prevalent indigenous Guarani culture. (In most places, including Asuncion, Spanish is the dominant language over Guarani; you won't, however, find English widely spoken, so bring your phrasebook.) Paraguayans are also legendarily hospitable, so don't be surprised if you find yourself getting invitations to dinner or making friends at the drop of a hat.

Asunción calls to mind a smaller, saner, safer Rio de Janeiro, except that it's located on the Rio Paraguay, instead of the Atlantic. Multi-colored, colonial and gothic-style buildings from the 19th and early 20th centuries (both beautifully restored and in varying stages of glorious decay) make up the majority of the centro – although modern, upscale shopping malls and hotels are popping up, as well.

My first encounter with the Bolivian mania for perfect U.S. dollars occurred at 3 a.m., as I blearily stood in line at Immigration, attempting to pay for my entry visa. I'd been in transit for over 30 hours, and was fumbling in my travel wallet for the stack of twenties I'd set aside specifically for this purpose (they want that $135 in USD, no exceptions).

The immigration agent examined each bill with an anal retentiveness surely rivaled by past appraisers of the Hope Diamond. He immediately tossed two perfectly-fine looking bills back at me.

"What's wrong with these?" I asked. "They are damaged," he snapped, and returned to closely inspecting my remaining twenties, running his fingers along each edge, and holding them up to the light. I looked at the offending bills, seeing nothing wrong. "Why can't you take this one?" I queried, holding out the bill in question. My silly question would have made my fresh-off-the-boat status obvious, even if I weren't standing in the immigration line.

"There is a crease in it," the officer said impatiently, pointing to a miniscule dent. Fortunately, the rest of my money passed muster. The final insult? Having my visa photo taken (despite the fact I'd brought passport-size photos with me for this very purpose). I now have a very special souvenir of what I'll look like in another 40 years. That cabin air is really dehydrating.

Over the next two weeks, I continued to observe the Bolivian obsession with flawless dolares de Estados Unitos. By then, I knew the reason. Counterfeit money is a big problem, but they're not nearly as concerned about the state of their bolivianos as they are our currency. Admittedly, their paper money is fairly pristine. Every trip to an ATM was an anxiety-inducing event ... what if the bills were wrinkled, or torn? What if, while in one of the godforsaken, far-flung outposts I was visiting, someone required U.S. dollars and I couldn't obtain any perfect ones? In Bolivia, you can often pay in either currency, so some travelers prefer dollars because they find them easier to use than trying to convert bolivianos.

Fortunately, it seems most Bolivian cash machines dispense quality bills. I was even able to bail out a befuddled traveler attempting to purchase a bus ticket. His dollars were simply not up to snuff, so I traded him some of my crisp Jacksons to defuse the escalating shouting match.

After I traveled on to Paraguay, I discovered that they're almost as strict about the appearance of U.S. dollars. It's a national joke, however, that this attention to detail doesn't extend to their guaranies. Never have I seen such woefully limp, bedraggled, filthy paper money. Which is ironic, given all the armed guards posted outside of banks and change houses. Then again, money is money, no matter how pretty. If only someone could tell the Bolivians that.

[Photo credit: Flickr user Unhindered by Talent]