Since moving back to Colorado last August, I've actively tried to gain more experience in backcountry pursuits. I've been a downhill skier all my life, but prohibitive costs and weekend warrior traffic are a drag. At this point in my life, I also find more enjoyment in the contemplative, peaceful nature of snowshoeing and nordic skiing.

My ultimate goal for the backcountry has always been to explore Colorado's extensive and historic 10th Mountain Division Huts. It's a long-standing source of shame that I've lived in this state off-and-on for 17 years, and have never stayed in a hut (pictured: McNamara Hut).

The non-profit hut system was established in the early '80s by 10th Mountain Division veteran Fritz Benedict and a handful of other Aspen locals. Its origins date back to pre-World War II, however, when the U.S. War Department began training mountain troops for combat. Camp Hale, located near Colorado's Eagle River Valley, was selected as the army training grounds for over 11,000 men, in December, 1942.

In January, 1945, the 10th Mountain Division found themselves in Italy, where, according to the website, "they played a crucial role in several battles." During this time, many of the Division had developed a shared love of the mountains and Colorado. Post-war, a number of 10th Mountain vets settled here; some were instrumental in the founding of ski towns such as Vail and Aspen.

The hut system is in part a memorial to the soldiers of the 10th Mountain Division, and some of the early huts were built with donations from the family and friends of fallen vets. Today, the huts rely upon donations (click here to contribute) for construction, maintenance, and operation, which help to keep overnight fees low. The average bed runs about $30/night; it's also possible to book the entire hut for a flat fee. It's best to make reservations months in advance since the huts fill up, but if you become a member (fees range from $25/year to $1,000/lifetime), you'll be able to participate in the 10th Division reservations lottery, and book early.

The 10th Mountain manages and takes reservations for all 29 of their off-the-grid huts. They're connected by 350 miles of suggested routes, and range from cabins located fairly close to trailheads, to serious backcountry locales. Some of the huts are owned and operated by the Braun and Friends hut systems, near Aspen, as well as Summit Huts Association, near Breckenridge; information on all can be found on the 10th Mountain website, huts.org.

The countdown has begun; most ski resorts will be closing in roughly three to four weeks, and then they'll temporarily become ghost towns. Welcome to mud season, the bi-annual, post-season time when businesses shutter and residents escape to hotter climes – usually (die-hards head to South America to chase the snow).

Be they lift op or millionaire, most locals have their favorite vacation spots – most of them affordable and south of the border. I've lived in my share of ski towns (and thus enjoyed mud season exodus), and there's just no avoiding the fact that certain destinations are southerly extensions of the mountains. What can I say? Ski bums have great taste.

The following are some of the most popular places locals flock to for mud season. The good news is, you don't need to live in a ski town, or even be a skier, to appreciate them. Book your tickets!

Sayulita, Nayarit, Mexico
Also known as "Telluride South." There's just no escaping your neighbors, clients and customers, but this sleepy fishing village has managed to retain its charm, despite being less than 30 miles from Puerto Vallarta. Main activities: slurping ice cream, scarfing fish tacos, reading on the beach and watching the sunset.

Costa Rica
Crested Butte loves it some CR, especially a specific treehouse community (started by former locals) called Finca Bellavista. Tamarindo, Jacó and Mal Pais are also popular beach getaways for the off-season ski crowd. What better place for winter thrill-seekers to transition to warm weather pursuits such as whitewater rafting, surfing and volcano bagging?

Music, film, expos, tech. Yadda, yadda. The real star of this year's SXSW is Grumpy Cat (actual name: Tardar Sauce), says CNN.

For the uninitiated – all 10 of you – Grumpy Cat became a viral obsession last fall, after her owner's brother posted her photo to Reddit. The 11-month-old, Arizona-based feline is of curious ancestry (she's believed to be part Ragdoll breed, and her permanently frowny face and small size are genetic quirks). In reality, says her owner, Tabatha Bundesen (who also runs the Grumpy Cat™ website), "Tard" is sweet and playful ... when she's not sleeping. There are Grumpy Cat memes, merch and thousands of fans, of which I'm unapologetically one.

I follow Grumpy Cat on Twitter and live for The Daily Grump on her site, which posts new photos of Tard and her brother Pokey doing their thing. What can I say? Grumpy Cat just makes me happy. If you happen to be at SXSW, come visit her at the Mashable tech tent, where she's holding court from her cat bed, and posing for photos (in between naps, of course). Celebrity apparently hasn't changed her a bit.

What's more fun than drinking an après ski beer at altitude? Attending a post-slopes cocktail festival at altitude. The first-annual Après Ski Cocktail Classic debuts in Aspen/Snowmass March 14-17, and will feature superstar mixologists and boozy experts such as Tony Abou-Ganim and Steve "Wine Geek" Olson, as well as chefs, sommeliers, spirit aficionados and "professional tipplers."

Events at the Westin and Wildwood Resorts include a Grand Tasting "Village"; a private reserve room of top-shelf spirits; craft cocktails; seminars; snow parties; pop-up bars; demos; "fireside chats"; special on-mountain events; and "The Great Irish Whisky Pub Crawl."

Pace yourselves. And get your tickets here.

[Photo credit: Flickr user RLHyde]

Planning a trip to Paraguay? Don't know where Paraguay is? Haven't heard of it? I feel you; it's not the most well known destination (psst, it's in South America). But I'm headed there in a few weeks for Gadling, and until yesterday, the biggest stressor in my life was obtaining my Paraguayan visa.

For the intrepid few who venture to Paraguay, the rewards are many– rich indigenous culture and cuisine; a sub- to tropical climate and virgin rainforest; amazing biodiversity; gorgeous campo (countryside; Paraguay has a strong ranching heritage); generous people; inexpensive everything; exquisite handicrafts; remote national parks; and Jesuit missions. Until last month, however, getting a visa (required for U.S. citizens, among others) was a bitch.

According to the Paraguayan Embassy & Consulates website, in order for me to enter the country, I had to cough up $100 (money order or cash, por favor), and two copies each of a utility bill with my current address, proof of "financial solvency (oh shit) or company letter, and round-trip tickets – this in addition to the usual passport/visa photos/pre-paid, SASE. Paraguay may be the poorest country in South America, but they sure don't want you setting up shop there.

After several calls to my "local" consulate in Los Angeles, I was told that I could have my visa back within a week. This was all well and good, but my tickets were delayed due to a processing glitch until several days ago, and I leave on March 17. Experienced travelers know better than to expect their passports or visas to arrive in a timely fashion, especially when coming from a Latin American consulate (I'm not trying to be a jerk; it's simply a cultural difference with regard to the concept of time). By yesterday morning, having returned the previous night from a three-day backcountry ski trip, I was seriously wondering if I was going to make it to Paraguay.

Since the L.A. Consulate had apparently decided to take a long siesta (no one ever picked up the phone, despite my calling them obsessively since late last week), I finally got ahold of someone who spoke fluent English in the New York office. And guess what I found out? You can now get a Paraguayan visa in-country, right at the Asuncion airport, for $160!

Weeks of anxiety melted away. I went to the bank, had them shred my money order, and tucked a crisp Benjamin into my passport holder. Stay tuned for my upcoming adventures in South America's most under-rated country.

[Photo credit: Flickr user marissa_strinste]

Still mulling over where to spend spring break, be it solo, or with friends or family? Colorado Ski Country USA resorts make it easy, with a handy online guide promoting special deals and events statewide throughout March and part of April.

In addition to loads of concerts and fun and endurance ski races at most resorts, there's also the famed Elk Mountain Grand Traverse backcountry race from Aspen to Crested Butte, and Battle in the Bowls in Aspen Highlands. Crested Butte is also celebrating Colorado Passholder Appreciation Month through March 6; anyone holding a season pass, regardless of resort, can ski CB for $59.

Copper Mountain hosts the Copper Uncorked "working man's wine festival" on March 10; think affordable vintages, and nontraditional pairings a la pizza, wings, and breakfast burritos. Aspen and Telluride are offering variations on "kids ski and stay free" programs, and Wolf Creek has Local Appreciation Days March 6 and 13, and April 3 and 7. Lift tickets are just $35/adult or student, $29/child/seniors. Get those plane tickets booked now!

[Photo credit: Flickr user Ben Moscona l Photography]

In keeping with Japan's reputation as a most hospitable country comes this video from LiveLeak. Two Canadian backpackers are attempting to purchase subway tickets so they can visit Tsukiji Fish Market, but have problems with the dispenser.

No worries! Apparently, in Japan, live, smiling attendants pop out of tiny, hidden slots in automated machines. Perhaps the U.S. should take note, and use this strategy to help stimulate the job market. If only we could get rid of automated phone prompts.

I've been dimly aware that it's possible to get one's shoes shined at airports the world over for many years. That said, I'm a chick, and despite my boot obsession, I usually travel in Chuck Taylors. I don't know from shoeshine, other than my love of Johnny Cash ("Get Rhythm," anyone?).

A couple of months ago, however, I found myself with time to kill at Denver International Airport (DIA), en route to work a trade show. A deep, syrupy voice called out, "Shine your boots, ma'am?" I looked down. I was wearing my favorites, a pair of motorcycle boots I'd scored on Ebay. They looked like hell after tromping around in the mud and snow.

"How much?" I asked the kindly-looking black gentleman wielding a clean rag. "Whatever you feel like contributing," he answered.

Seconds later, I was perched atop the adult version of a booster chair, observing the frenetic energy of the airport. I learned the gentleman in question's name was Leonard, and he'd lived in Denver for over 30 years. As we talked about how the city had changed, and waxed poetic about why we'd both chosen to relocate to Colorado, he brushed, polished, massaged and buffed my boots until they glowed. He sealed the seams along the soles, and meticulously attended to the areas beneath the buckles and straps.

Ten minutes later, I was boarding my flight with glossy, weatherproofed boots (my version of business casual), and a vivid mental picture of early '70s Denver. Leonard had some cash in his pocket, and I like to think that he, too, came away from the encounter richer not just financially, but emotionally.

Having a genuine, non-self-absorbed conversation with another human being at an airport is all too uncommon these days. Let's face it: most of our exchanges consist of requesting a specific size of latte, or bitching about our lack of upgrade.

Now, whenever I'm at DIA, I get my motorcycle boots shined, both to extend their life, as well as for the connection, however fleeting, to another human being. And yes, I like that I'm supporting hard-working people earning an honest living. I haven't seen Leonard again, but I never fail to have an interesting conversation, and learn a little something (many of the people working for this particular company, Executive Shine, are immigrants). If only I could travel in my high-heeled boots more often.

[Photo credit: Flickr user jag9889]

I'm currently in Southern California, mixing a bit of business and pleasure. I'm officially visiting my parents, but yesterday, I headed up to Santa Barbara for the night to research a story for a guidebook. On my way home today, I went for a late afternoon run on my favorite beach. As a former SB resident, it's something I've done dozens of times in the past.

As I pounded barefoot through the surf, I was struck by the fact that this beach, which shall remain nameless, was almost empty. It was bizarre, because usually there are lots of other runners, walkers and even the occasional horseback rider, all of whom come to take advantage of the mile-and-a-half-long swath of smooth sand. I also love this location because I never fail to see dolphins, but today, no dice.

After my run, I headed back to the car. Because I was trying to beat weekend traffic, I just brushed the sand off the tops of my feet and put my socks and shoes back on. I arrived at my parents' house an hour later, and, upon removing my socks, discovered why the beach was deserted. Apparently one of the many offshore oil rigs had recently had an accident, because the bottoms of my feet were literally blackened with tar.

Fortunately, my 80-year-old mom spends a lot of time trawling the Internet, and she had the solution ... sort of. "I'm pretty sure it's mayonnaise," she said. "That, or peanut butter." Which is how I ended up sitting on my parents' kitchen floor, rubbing both substances on my left foot with one hand, while trying to fend off their dogs with the other.

For the record, a cup of peanut butter works, although I don't recommend you use chunky, given the choice.

[Photo credit: Flickr user Tommy Petroni]

In a city like San Francisco, there's so much to love, it's easy to veer into bad poetic cliche (the fog rolling in on the Golden Gate; how, on unseasonably warm days, the entire city appears to be picnicking on every available patch of green; the dreamy views of the bay from the top of Pacific Heights).

There are other things about SF that rock, however, despite an obvious lack of romanticism. There's the food truck scene, for example, which in less than five years has become a firmly entrenched part of the city's culture. Like SF's ethnic restaurants, the trucks roam the culinary map, from Eritrea and Malaysia to the Philippines, Hawaii, India, the Deep South, Latin America, and even, god help us, dessertlandia (cupcakes have nothing on the crème brûlée truck).

I've written before about Off the Grid (OTG), the ginormous, weekly food truck fiesta held down at Fort Mason (there are other, smaller venues and food truck "pods" in SF, the East Bay, South Bay, and Marin County, as well). Featuring over 40 trucks, music, and stellar views of the Bay, it's become a beloved celebration of all that's great about life in San Francisco. My favorite vendors include The Chairman (as in Bao), and Gohan.

I've been to OTG before, but until last week, I'd never visited its more urban equivalent, SOMA strEAT Food Park. Located just south of Market Street (SOMA), this formerly dumpy, sketchy block has been transformed into an oasis, complete with landscaping, attractive seating areas, music, a beer garden, and an indoor tent for inclement weather. SOMA has long been an up-and-coming 'hood for hipsters thanks to its bars, cafes, and restaurants, but it's also convenient to the Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA), Metreon entertainment complex, Yerba Buena Gardens, Moscone Center and the Union Square shopping district.

Unlike OTG, the Food Park is also open daily. A number of the same vendors work OTG and the Food Park (which has different vendors every day), but others are unique to each location. My favorite at the Food Park is Adam's Grub Truck, which specializes in Pacific Rim-inflected sandwiches that are the bomb. There's also Del Popolo, inarguably the most famous – and high-tech – food truck/pizzeria on wheels in the nation. It alone is worth a trip down to SOMA.

Whether you head to OTG for the scene, selection and bayside location, or the strEAT Food Park for a convenient shopping or cultural break, you'll come away stuffed, satiated and waxing a little poetic about SF, yourself.


[Photo credit: Flickr user Gary Soup]