In the spirit of “Beach Week” (not to be confused with “Shark Week”, that other perennial, much ballyhooed 7-day national holiday), I decided to conduct a very unscientific study: How does Bing’s new search engine hold up?

Let’s say I wanted to head to Curacao in late January during my birthday to scuba away those last remnants of my ’20’s. By starting off at Bing I clicked on “Travel” on the left-hand column to bring me to their travel page. I decided to match them up against Kayak and SkyScanner, two of my standbys that seem to always come up with the best prices.

On the front page and in its many advertisements, Bing boasts about their “Know When To Buy ™” technology, a colored arrow chart that purportedly predicts whether prices are going going to drop (or rise) from what you’re seeing at that moment. Unfortunately for my search to Curacao, my result yielded a “No Price Predictor” result. Clicking on the “Learn Why” link, I learned that this only applies to domestic U.S. flights. Why? No idea, but kind of a bummer.

And the results? Bing found a direct flight through American for $518, Kayak found the same flight for the same price, exactly as it predicted in the handy calendar that appears on the home page before you even search, showing you recent, cheap tickets recently purchased for your cities (a feature Bing should definitely attempt to copy).

And SkyScanner? Well, I have to say it wins for the most complex results. It’s top result was a $732 ticket using a combination of a 25-hour flight (with a layover) on Air Jamaica, then a 1-stop return flight via Surinam Airways and Caribbean Airlines. I guess the upshot here is that you get to check Surinam Airways off your list of airlines taken.

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To see Bing’s price predictor in action I decided to test out a domestic flight to L.A. for that same week, perfect for my chance to pitch that Citizen Kane sequel I’ve been working on with Shia LaBeouf as the star (”Citizen Kane 2: Rosebud’s Revenge”).

Bing turned up a $259 flight via United, and, here’s the kicker: Bing offered up a big, green arrow and said it’s 85% sure that “Lowest fares are likely to rise or hold steady within the next 7 days.” Well, that clears that up.

Both Kayak and CheapTickets came up with flights for the same price (o.k., Kayak found an AirTran flight for a dollar cheaper). And just for kicks, a search through Virgin American resulted in a ticket for $324 (although they do advertise wi-fi — nice, but not worth $65).

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So the lesson here? Probably what both you and I have been suspecting for a while. Most of the big sites are basically searching the same inventory of airlines that are constantly watching each others’ fares, resulting in prices that are pretty similar across the board.

What about the add-ons? I can’t say that Bing’s fare predictor is going to have me flocking to their site anytime soon, whereas I still feel like I’m partial to Kayak’s calendar predictor (what better way to waste time than to plug in fantasy flights and see what pops up without ever having to even click the search button?).

And as far as my birthday goes, I’m no closer to deciding what to do than when I started. But suggestions are welcome, as well as unsolicited invites. See you there?

For whatever reason this week seems to be “Beach Week” here at TheExpeditioner.com. Not sure if there’s something subliminal going on, what with the onset of fall and all, but I’m just going to roll with the flow and keep it going with this gorgeous video of Phuket.

Sure it may be a little touristy now (see 3:19), but with sunsets like these (see 3:49) who cares?

Also, did you know that Phuket Province’s sister city is Las Vegas? Something to ponder as you gawk at the pristine beaches and much sunnier weather than where you are right now.

I was only but a slowly developing zygote 30 years ago, but in the world of travel lore, Goa was the place to be around that magical time period during the 1970’s. Today? Not so much. But for the chance of experiencing your very own sense of discovery, try heading north to Diu.

Not that you’re likely to run into too many hippies there today, but Diu, the small island lying just off the Gujarat coast, does offer the chance to visit a laid-back, un-commercialized island far from any tourists, as this Times article explores: ” . . . the beach, Nagoa, on which Indian men, tourists from the cities, frolicked delightedly in beige underwear. We were the only Westerners there.”

The first day or two of any trip to a new country, you really just spend some time getting your bearings. Here in Japan… not gonna happen. There’s just too much to do, too much to see, and so little time. With rumors of a typhoon still lingering, I was riding the “superexpress” train through downpours on the way to everything that is Japanese history, Kyoto.

The traditional cultural center of Japan, Kyoto has seventeen UNESCO World Heritage Sites, about six gazillion Buddhist temples, and even though it’s a thriving city of one and a half million, it has some kind of beautiful shrine around every corner it seems.

There are literally too many places to describe. Each site one-upped the last with its unique flavor; an ancient moated castle, incense rising from a Buddhist temple, bamboo forests surrounding delicately manicured Zen rock gardens, and buildings seemingly floating in the middle of a pond. You get the point. I told myself I wouldn’t get templed out, maybe it was the constant rain or the miles walked, but even the most determined sometimes go down. Kyoto will do that to you.

Two things will stick with me as I head to Tokyo. First, one temple seems to surpass the rest, the golden Kinkaku-ji. This three story pavilion is completely wrapped in gold and “floats” in a pond, surrounded by lush forest. It’s quite famous in Japan, and deservedly so, it was crowded despite the rain and was still that wicked. The other, a more intimate experience, happened down a quiet alley when searching for a dinner spot. I was deciphering a window menu to look up and see a geisha passing by. Once I got my wits about me, she disappeared into a restaurant, not to be seen again.

Typhoon or not, with its golden temple and real life geishas, Kyoto might just be the Japan I had always imagined.

I’m not really one to shill for gimmicky tourism stunts (see Exhibit “1″: that “Best Job in the World” promotion that got over 34,000 applicants), but I really like the idea of this one from The Bahamas (not least of which because I basically do this anyway, but no tourism board is shelling out any money for me to do it).

Here’s the deal. The “14 Island Film Challenge” is a contest where 14 filmmakers will be chosen on December 7th to head to The Bahamas for 2 weeks to film their own movie. The winning director will receive 14,000 pounds for his work, the runner-up will get 5,000. To be among the lucky 14, potential directors must submit a 500-word “treatment” (film-speak for outline) about what they’d like to film. Here’s a link to the full rules.

Unfortunately, the contest is only open to Brits. Sorry Yanks. Since I’m immediately excluded, I shall therefore offer up my own treatment. It would be the rise and fall of a newspaper tycoon who would give it all up for the sake of his lost childhood. This may have already been done, I just can’t think of the name.

How cool would it be to tell your friends back home how you spent your vacation volcano-hopping in El Salvador? Well, it’s not out of the question. With 22 volcanoes, crater lakes, and beaches to knock the breath out of your lungs (as well as really cheap flights from the U.S./Canada), it’s not long before the word’s out on El Salvador.

Over at the Guardian, one curious traveler heads out swimming in El Salvador’s largest lake, Ilopango (a crater lake formed by a massive eruption in 1880), then through the capital of San Salvador and south to El Sunzal, a beach some say has the best surfing in Central America (and is one of the region’s best kept secrets — until now, mwahahaha).

By Justin Calderon

The Philippines, the world’s second-largest archipelago next to Indonesia, is speckled with hundreds of islands boasting pristine beaches, cross-cultured cuisine, and friendly people wearing content smiles. The wide variety of islands encompass an illustrious array of different languages and topographies that make the Philippines a destination that travelers find themselves revisiting over and over again.

Beaches with driftwood that ornament the sugar-like sand lightly sparkle from the sun. The water is a sapphire blue that melts into the afternoon sky making the horizon vanish. There is only one set of footprints in the sand that lead directly to a village just beyond the barrier-bitten black volcanic rocks. No, this is not bustling Boracay, the destination most well renowned in the Philippines, but Negros, an island located in the central Visayas.

A ferry from Cebu city, the major travel hub in the Visayas, can connect you with the port city of Dumaguete, the self-proclaimed “most friendly city in The Philippines.” Dumaguete is home to the first Protestant university in the country, Silliman University, and incorporates the exemplary fiesta vibe that seems to resonate throughout the rest of the Visayas. The pace in Dumaguete is leisurely, even for a city in the Philippines, and a great port of entry to the rest of Negros Oriental.

A five-hour bus ride northwest from Dumaguete along coastline and through rice paddies will bring you to Sipalay, the home of secluded Sugar Beach. However, your journey has only made it to the start of the last leg at this point. From Sipalay you must rent a “trike” — a motorcycle with a side car — to ride over a rickety wooden bridge. From there, small motor boats must be hired to take you and your belongings around the peninsula of Sugar Beach. If you are lucky enough to catch the night sky, the boat ride will be illuminated by globs of fireflies clenched to mangroves and the occasional shooting star plummeting through the stainless sky. The hum of crackled karaoke and chatter breaks through the silent night as the boat passes a small village. The beach looks like a black void completely barren of lights. None of the hotels on Sugar Beach break the forest line.

Sugar Beach is a castaway’s haven, offering a small selection of palm-roofed bungalows, driftwood villas, and sand-carpeted bars a stone’s throw from the Sulu Sea. Beach-washed European proprietors claim the four main accommodations on Sugar Beach. Jogi, a willing castaway from Germany, remembers the days when travelers would wash up on the shores and set up tents under the thatched roof that has now become his restaurant and bar. “I started the construction on Sulu Sunset in January of 2000,” Jogi remembers. “When the restaurant was finished, I, my family, and the staff slept in tents.”

All of his employees are locals from the neighboring villages around Sugar Beach. “That was the time we cooked and ate where the bar is now. Of course, we had to run generators at the time,” Jogi continues. “Germans need cold beer.”

The bungalows, chairs, and tables are all built from the surrounding coconut trees and bamboo stalks. If it rains, you’ll find that coconut-based items from the restaurant will be limited because the trees will be too wet to climb.

By the end of 2000, Jogi had built four bungalows with the help of his family, staff, and fellow German cohort, Oliver, a backpacker who discovered Jogi through a pension house in Sipalay. He ended up staying two weeks to help Jogi with odds and ends. “Oliver continued his trip to Palawan and told every backpacker in the whole of Palawan Island about my place.” After the word got out, Jogi’s four bungalows periodically began filling up. But, if travelers can’t find a place to sleep during the high seasons of January and February, they’re always welcome to pitch a tent.

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Beached fishing boats sway in the sand as the gentle tide glides them with the pace of the evening current. The sand turns a shade of red as villager’s gaze on to the sunset. Day trips picnicking on the beach are very much a part of Philippine culture. The English literacy rate in the country is over 90%, making it very easy to communicate here compared to many other parts of Asia.

Fifteen minutes by foot from the northern point of Sugar Beach lays a beach facing east towards the sunset, barricaded by jagged volcanic rock on both sides. As I sit, a shadowy figure emerges from the damp jungle behind me, spilling onto the sunlit sand. Doubts grow in my mind as to whether I have arrived on his private property or insulted him by taking pictures of what appears to be a village beyond the brush.

“Hello friend,” the young man says, greeting me with a smile wide enough to knock the blue baseball cap off his head. “Do you need a room?” He offers. “You can stay here in my village . . . we can also cook some fish for you.”

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The sound of the sea slowly dissipate behind the squawks of chickens and the snorting of giant pigs. A proud fighting cock takes center, perched upon a six-foot stick puffing up his belly in anticipation of new visitors. The territorial beast belts a boisterous coo, provoking a contender in the distance with all the charm of a prize fighter in his prime. Baby chicks roam freely with babies from the village next to the local store. Stapled on a wire frame are various bags of snacks sandwiched between cans of corn beef hash and small bags of vegetables. The blue walls of the store stand perpendicular from a bamboo bench where a mother breastfeeds her newborn baby in the shade.

Nene, my new friend, guides me towards his house, a small structure at the end of the dirt path pressed up against a calm river. His village helps ferry visitors from the mainland to the peninsula of Sugar Beach, a journey that takes about five minutes during daylight. The leaf awning shelters a small group of people from the torturous afternoon sun. Three girls in white school uniforms are serenading themselves with an over-amplified karaoke machine attached to a television set. There is a comfort in their willingness to disregard any timid tendencies for sake of song and new friends. The microphone is passed around like a peace pipe. Like many other nations in Asia, Karaoke is both a pastime and a way of life. An act of reverence and childish congeniality all at once — a conundrum that allures foreigners first with awkward anticipation, then with courteous courtship.

Nene did not get the opportunity to go the college and, like most of his family, he will likely join the fishing business. Yet, despite the apparent gap in our two worlds, I am eagerly welcomed into his home to enjoy the catch of the day: a grilled fish dinner prepared by his mother. The kitchen lies just behind the karaoke machine around an inclined bend dipping into the water below. The wood-burning stove is sizzling with the sweet aroma of adobo sauce, a soy based blend of garlic and spice that is a staple of the Philippines. The stove rests upon the same brickwork pattern of dark cement blocks as the house. The interior walls match the exterior and the nipa leaf roof is placed over the foundation like an awkward jigsaw puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

As I bask in the fragrance of the sautéed fish and the harmonious hospitality of my surroundings, it’s not hard to appreciate the allure of the Philippines. Jovial curiosity and inquiring eyes search me, piercing my peripheral vision with the smile of humans who are truly happy in a paradise they call home. A castaway is never alone in the company of a Filipino. As Nene starts up the crackling karaoke box as an interlude during dinner, the moon begins to reflect off of the clear water, illuminating his face with a spotlight. This particular patch of sand is his home. The words of the song drift off the screen and into the empty night, drawing neighbors and family members down the dirt path to Nene’s hut by the water. Boats float by carrying new travelers past the village. He eagerly beckons for me to take center stage.

Back up the beach, Jogi is snapping open another bottle of San Miguel. The girls behind the bar offer me a menu, trotting towards the bar with a bashful giddiness in every beat of their subtle steps. They recognize me from my off-key rendition of “New York, New York” the night before. The hit had apparently not gone unnoticed.

A week on Sugar Beach has slipped by, providing enough time for these friends to turn into family. The 70 or so somewhat familiar villagers and travel companions I have accumulated blend in with the more alien faces of fresh forlorn travelers sloshing up against the shores. Weary from the daylong excursion, they stumble off the bobbing ship into the earthy sand amongst a group of complacent companions. Welcome to our paradise. Welcome to our home.

This isn’t your Aunt June’s backyard pool The Guinness record-holding, man-made “lagoon” measures 3,324 feet in length and covers over twenty acres at the San Alfonso del Mar resort in Algarrobo, Chile. Now that’s a pool.

This bad boy comes with nothing but surprises. It’s not chlorine, as I first suspected. It’s actually a patented technology that filters the nearby ocean water so well, that it’s reported you can see up to a a hundred feet down (although, the pool isn’t that deep). How about jumping aboard a sailboat after a stroll along its white sand beaches? If that’s not cool enough, dust off the scuba gear, and practice up before heading into the open water only feet away.

It’s still a pool, remember? A pool so big, it has its own docks (this recent photo spread from the Chicago Tribune proves it). I guess the term “lagoon” is a bit more appropriate then, eh?

It’s Official, the Olympics are going to be in Rio de Janerio in 2016. Congratulations Brazil, congratulations South America, I was pulling for you.

You could hop on that Celebrity Cruise headed for Barbados, or you could head to the Mekong, the world’s 10th-longest river for a real adventure. Follow this journey in the Sydney Morning Herald of a couple who hope to make the journey beginning in Can Tho and eventually on to Angkor Wat.

But why, when this journey could just as easily be done by car or plane? As the author describes:

I want to hear the gentle slap of the water against the boat, feel the tropical breeze on my skin and watch people go about their lives on the riverbanks. I want to be part of the landscape. I want to make the journey as important as the arrival.