I’ve spent years searching for the perfect pairs of travel pants. What I’ve found is that every pair of men’s travel pants falls into two categories: there are baggy pants with cargo pockets & unnecessary zippers, and there are baggy pants covered in like, elephants. But at last, I’ve found 5 pairs of men’s travel pants that are EXACTLY what I wanted. They’re functional, technical, and not hideous – and I’ve put them through the ringer to test them out. These are the only 5 pairs of men’s travel pants you’ll need!
![[SAN FRANCISCO] The Gold Rush. The Summer of Love. Silicon Valley. San Francisco is a chameleon city: every few decades it changes, morphing into whatever the next Big Thing is and attracting idealists, inventors, and forward-thinkers. It's a city of beauty, joy, art, and innovation.
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The story of San Francisco is written up and down its steep, winding streets. You'll feel the history of San Francisco as you're climbing Coit Tower for sweeping views of Alcatraz and the Bay, or taking Golden Gate Bridge selfies at Baker Beach (just watch out for nude photo-bombers in the background). You'll feel it as you're warming up with a steaming bread bowl full of clam chowder at Fisherman's Wharf, or kickin' it with the hippies in Haight-Ashbury who came in 1969 and never left. Reading beat poetry in Jack Kerouac Alley. Enjoying a sweet, soft coconut bun from a tiny bakery in Chinatown. Admiring the beautiful, powerful street art in the Mission district. Celebrating marriage and gender equality in the Castro. Trying to figure out if that's Mark Zuckerberg or just some other techie dude in a Facebook hoodie in the Financial District (I guess that's not history... yet). Each neighborhood in the city tells its own story.
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San Francisco also has its problems: rampant homelessness. Gentrification. Diminishing diversity. Corporate interests pushing the city forward without enough consideration of its long-term residents. Insane rent prices.
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It is a city that reflects America's extremes: you can feel the divide between the wealthy, zipping around on hoverboards or private cars and ordering everything from dinner to housekeeping on their smartphones; and those who are struggling to make ends meet - or struggling to survive on the streets.
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Although we live in Oakland, we have a lot of love for San Francisco and its complex past & present. You should visit and decide what you think of it yourself! We've got a post about where to stay when you visit, built on Jeremy's decade of experience as a local and a mindful approach to San Francisco's many complexities - link in bio.
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What do you associate with San Francisco? Have you ever been? Drop us a comment below!](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/8a9baaae44a32f2d3eeab63cfe008980/5DDFA537/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.135.1080.1080a/s640x640/67936545_442033469734625_6728412070039651574_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "[SAN FRANCISCO] The Gold Rush. The Summer of Love. Silicon Valley. San Francisco is a chameleon city: every few decades it changes, morphing into whatever the next Big Thing is and attracting idealists, inventors, and forward-thinkers. It's a city of beauty, joy, art, and innovation.
.
The story of San Francisco is written up and down its steep, winding streets. You'll feel the history of San Francisco as you're climbing Coit Tower for sweeping views of Alcatraz and the Bay, or taking Golden Gate Bridge selfies at Baker Beach (just watch out for nude photo-bombers in the background). You'll feel it as you're warming up with a steaming bread bowl full of clam chowder at Fisherman's Wharf, or kickin' it with the hippies in Haight-Ashbury who came in 1969 and never left. Reading beat poetry in Jack Kerouac Alley. Enjoying a sweet, soft coconut bun from a tiny bakery in Chinatown. Admiring the beautiful, powerful street art in the Mission district. Celebrating marriage and gender equality in the Castro. Trying to figure out if that's Mark Zuckerberg or just some other techie dude in a Facebook hoodie in the Financial District (I guess that's not history... yet). Each neighborhood in the city tells its own story.
.
San Francisco also has its problems: rampant homelessness. Gentrification. Diminishing diversity. Corporate interests pushing the city forward without enough consideration of its long-term residents. Insane rent prices.
.
It is a city that reflects America's extremes: you can feel the divide between the wealthy, zipping around on hoverboards or private cars and ordering everything from dinner to housekeeping on their smartphones; and those who are struggling to make ends meet - or struggling to survive on the streets.
.
Although we live in Oakland, we have a lot of love for San Francisco and its complex past & present. You should visit and decide what you think of it yourself! We've got a post about where to stay when you visit, built on Jeremy's decade of experience as a local and a mindful approach to San Francisco's many complexities - link in bio.
.
What do you associate with San Francisco? Have you ever been? Drop us a comment below!")
![[BEACH PEOPLE] Some people are born to be on the beach. All year long, they dream about dipping their toes in bright blue water and frolicking on soft white sand, and they return from their beach vacation with sun-kissed skin, positively glowing with beachy bliss.
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I envy those people.
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While they’re happily soaking up the sun, I’m busy being burned to a crisp, accidentally inhaling mouthfuls of sand, swallowing saltwater, freaking out because I saw one single jellyfish, yanking tangles out of my hair, and trying to get sand un-stuck from places that sand should never, ever be.
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I am truly the least graceful person who has ever been on a beach. And it doesn’t help that finding a decent swimsuit as a size 16, almost 6-foot tall Amazonian woman is an exercise in torture and frustration (what is this, a bikini bottom for ANTS?!). Honestly, somehow I find it easier to pack for a trip to the literal Arctic Tundra than a day at the beach.
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Which is why I began my 3 days of beachy bliss in the San Blas Islands off the coast of Panama by complaining. It was hot. It was sticky. There was sand EVERYWHERE. There weren't enough hammocks. There was too much sun. There were crabs (aka giant armored spiders) leaping around doing little crab waltzes or whatever. There was only electricity for an hour or so a day. There was no WiFi at all. I was convinced that this was hell.
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Clearly, it was not hell. But it took me a bit to adjust to being constantly covered in sunscreen and saltwater. By the end of our 3rd day in San Blas, I was in full relaxation mode: I hadn't worn shoes in 3 days, my hair was in goddess-mode, and I'd sent off at least 53 emails via my crappy Panamanian SIM card that said "I'm on an island with no electricity or WiFi, so I'll have to get back to you later." I was officially in Island Mode, and for one glorious, shining moment, I finally understood Beach People. (I will never be able to accept crabs, though. Crabs are horrifying.)
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Are you Beach People or would you prefer to cozy up to the fireplace in a mountain lodge with me?](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/5d9a4e126269bdfe72039acf23933817/5DE2F442/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.135.1080.1080a/s640x640/65644919_2534245056640344_7143638401448131207_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "[BEACH PEOPLE] Some people are born to be on the beach. All year long, they dream about dipping their toes in bright blue water and frolicking on soft white sand, and they return from their beach vacation with sun-kissed skin, positively glowing with beachy bliss.
.
I envy those people.
.
While they’re happily soaking up the sun, I’m busy being burned to a crisp, accidentally inhaling mouthfuls of sand, swallowing saltwater, freaking out because I saw one single jellyfish, yanking tangles out of my hair, and trying to get sand un-stuck from places that sand should never, ever be.
.
I am truly the least graceful person who has ever been on a beach. And it doesn’t help that finding a decent swimsuit as a size 16, almost 6-foot tall Amazonian woman is an exercise in torture and frustration (what is this, a bikini bottom for ANTS?!). Honestly, somehow I find it easier to pack for a trip to the literal Arctic Tundra than a day at the beach.
.
Which is why I began my 3 days of beachy bliss in the San Blas Islands off the coast of Panama by complaining. It was hot. It was sticky. There was sand EVERYWHERE. There weren't enough hammocks. There was too much sun. There were crabs (aka giant armored spiders) leaping around doing little crab waltzes or whatever. There was only electricity for an hour or so a day. There was no WiFi at all. I was convinced that this was hell.
.
Clearly, it was not hell. But it took me a bit to adjust to being constantly covered in sunscreen and saltwater. By the end of our 3rd day in San Blas, I was in full relaxation mode: I hadn't worn shoes in 3 days, my hair was in goddess-mode, and I'd sent off at least 53 emails via my crappy Panamanian SIM card that said \"I'm on an island with no electricity or WiFi, so I'll have to get back to you later.\" I was officially in Island Mode, and for one glorious, shining moment, I finally understood Beach People. (I will never be able to accept crabs, though. Crabs are horrifying.)
.
Are you Beach People or would you prefer to cozy up to the fireplace in a mountain lodge with me?")
![#ad [Trigger Warning: Eating Disorder] It took me a long time and a lot of hard work to love my body. Before my body and I loved each other, we were at war. I denied my body food. I mutilated my beautiful skin. And I attacked my own mind, verbally abusing myself from within in a torrent of vitriol, hate, and anger.
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In turn, my body rebelled. It ceased all non-vital functions, like growing my hair and nails, or menstruating. It denied me control of my own emotions, debilitating me with unpredictable fits of panic and terror. It focused my mind so intently on food that I had difficulty concentrating on anything else. And when the battle was at its worst, when I had denied my body even a single bite of food for over a week, my body retaliated by shutting down the functions of my heart.
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I was only 16 years old when my heart rate plummeted to 30 beats per minute. A doctor told me to start eating again, or I would die. I was dangerously underweight. But I made the decision to live.
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I don't talk too much about my ED because it makes me so incredibly sad. Because today, my body and I have a beautiful relationship. I worship my body, and it loves me right back. I treat my body with respect and it repays me with strength, endurance, and resilience. Together, we are an incredible team, capable of achieving any challenges or goals we dream up. And it makes me so sad to think back to the time when we weren't.
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But it's important for me to talk about it, openly and publicly, because I know some of y'all out there are struggling too. And I want to let you know that it's OK, I've been there - and it doesn't always have to be this way.
.
No matter where you are in your journey to self-love, I want to challenge you to make peace with your body today. If you two are at war, call a truce. If you are reconciling, show yourself a little extra love today. One thing that helped me immensely during my recovery was to look at beautiful, positive images of women whose bodies looked like mine. So today, I'm following body-positive Instagrammers (got any faves?) and browsing @CaciqueIntimates!
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Tell me what you'll be doing to make peace with your body today!
.
#FortheLoveofCurves](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/e447022c2d01bd83a732a7bc2cc5270f/5DE4AEC0/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.134.1080.1080/s640x640/67688744_1118377025017476_7306756110191464725_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "#ad [Trigger Warning: Eating Disorder] It took me a long time and a lot of hard work to love my body. Before my body and I loved each other, we were at war. I denied my body food. I mutilated my beautiful skin. And I attacked my own mind, verbally abusing myself from within in a torrent of vitriol, hate, and anger.
.
In turn, my body rebelled. It ceased all non-vital functions, like growing my hair and nails, or menstruating. It denied me control of my own emotions, debilitating me with unpredictable fits of panic and terror. It focused my mind so intently on food that I had difficulty concentrating on anything else. And when the battle was at its worst, when I had denied my body even a single bite of food for over a week, my body retaliated by shutting down the functions of my heart.
.
I was only 16 years old when my heart rate plummeted to 30 beats per minute. A doctor told me to start eating again, or I would die. I was dangerously underweight. But I made the decision to live.
.
I don't talk too much about my ED because it makes me so incredibly sad. Because today, my body and I have a beautiful relationship. I worship my body, and it loves me right back. I treat my body with respect and it repays me with strength, endurance, and resilience. Together, we are an incredible team, capable of achieving any challenges or goals we dream up. And it makes me so sad to think back to the time when we weren't.
.
But it's important for me to talk about it, openly and publicly, because I know some of y'all out there are struggling too. And I want to let you know that it's OK, I've been there - and it doesn't always have to be this way.
.
No matter where you are in your journey to self-love, I want to challenge you to make peace with your body today. If you two are at war, call a truce. If you are reconciling, show yourself a little extra love today. One thing that helped me immensely during my recovery was to look at beautiful, positive images of women whose bodies looked like mine. So today, I'm following body-positive Instagrammers (got any faves?) and browsing @CaciqueIntimates!
.
Tell me what you'll be doing to make peace with your body today!
.
#FortheLoveofCurves")
![[FLASHBACK] We landed in Cartagena, Colombia for the first time ever on July 11th, 2016. The day before, we packed up what was left of of our belongings, said a tearful goodbye to our neighborhood cat friend Jasper, and boarded a plane to Cartagena, with no idea what to expect from the next year of travel.
.
When we stepped onto the tarmac the Cartagena heat smacked us full on in the face. We were ill prepared for it. We were also ill prepared for the water we couldn't drink, the food we weren't quite sure how to order, the language we were struggling to speak, the culture that felt so unfamiliar to us, and the utter overwhelm of changing everything about our lives and giving up the comforts of a home we'd made for ourselves just to chase a crazy dream I'd been holding onto for a few years.
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We spent that first night in Cartagena cuddled up in one uncomfortable bed in our hostel dorm, crying. (We also tearfully sent an email to our cat friend's owners to ask if we could Skype with Jasper. They did not respond.)
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This trip, our 3rd visit back to Cartagena, felt like a world apart from that first miserable night. We were joined by a group of 16 high school students and 3 of Jeremy's amazing co-educators on our @take_flyte_org trip. We brought the group to dinner at our favorite local restaurant (La Casa de Socorro) and insisted they order our favorite dish (seafood soup). As we explored Cartagena together we pointed out murals on the walls that had changed over the years, new developments being built, restaurants we loved, our favorite picturesque alleys in Getsemani, even the hostel dog we'd played with at that very first hostel so many years ago (he didn't remember us). We greeted Cartagena like an old friend and lovingly introduced her to Jeremy's students.
.
3 years ago, we were afraid that we'd ruined our lives by quitting our jobs and giving up perfectly good lives to seek out adventure on a whim. Little did we know that our paths - both personal and professional - would take us back to Cartagena again and again. Cartagena is our lucky city!
.
Have you returned to a place years later? How had you & the place you visited changed? Drop us a comment!](http://scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/8510a401e0dde9bef0f0dc8efd38f7bd/5DE32002/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/c0.135.1080.1080a/s640x640/66217194_2311686425735958_7775172171184034345_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-sea1-1.cdninstagram.com "[FLASHBACK] We landed in Cartagena, Colombia for the first time ever on July 11th, 2016. The day before, we packed up what was left of of our belongings, said a tearful goodbye to our neighborhood cat friend Jasper, and boarded a plane to Cartagena, with no idea what to expect from the next year of travel.
.
When we stepped onto the tarmac the Cartagena heat smacked us full on in the face. We were ill prepared for it. We were also ill prepared for the water we couldn't drink, the food we weren't quite sure how to order, the language we were struggling to speak, the culture that felt so unfamiliar to us, and the utter overwhelm of changing everything about our lives and giving up the comforts of a home we'd made for ourselves just to chase a crazy dream I'd been holding onto for a few years.
.
We spent that first night in Cartagena cuddled up in one uncomfortable bed in our hostel dorm, crying. (We also tearfully sent an email to our cat friend's owners to ask if we could Skype with Jasper. They did not respond.)
.
This trip, our 3rd visit back to Cartagena, felt like a world apart from that first miserable night. We were joined by a group of 16 high school students and 3 of Jeremy's amazing co-educators on our @take_flyte_org trip. We brought the group to dinner at our favorite local restaurant (La Casa de Socorro) and insisted they order our favorite dish (seafood soup). As we explored Cartagena together we pointed out murals on the walls that had changed over the years, new developments being built, restaurants we loved, our favorite picturesque alleys in Getsemani, even the hostel dog we'd played with at that very first hostel so many years ago (he didn't remember us). We greeted Cartagena like an old friend and lovingly introduced her to Jeremy's students.
.
3 years ago, we were afraid that we'd ruined our lives by quitting our jobs and giving up perfectly good lives to seek out adventure on a whim. Little did we know that our paths - both personal and professional - would take us back to Cartagena again and again. Cartagena is our lucky city!
.
Have you returned to a place years later? How had you & the place you visited changed? Drop us a comment!")
