An email from Anita asks, in part: "Will you be so kind and give me the address or contact details of that hostel in Cuzco where you stayed. Please? And one more question – why didn't you go for Machu Picchu trekking tours?"

Sometimes the work we do for the elephants can be heartbreaking. And sometimes it gets so hard that I can't bear to take any more. And when that happens, I take a deep breath. And I think about Tong Jan.

Comparing an 18-hour bus ride through Peru to a 5-hour bus ride in Cambodia is like comparing jalapeños to tarantulas. Both have their positives, both have their drawbacks, both say a lot about where you're traveling, and both are delicious if you're in the right frame of mind.

Jessica and I are squeezed into the back seat of the cab with our new friends Paul and Caroline, who days earlier had invited us to come with them on this cultural pilgrimage to the heart and soul of the Argentinean identity: a football game. (That's "soccer" for those of you playing along at home in the US.)

I miss meeting new friends, travelers and locals alike. I especially miss the instant connection we had with other travelers – the instant bond where all the bullshit and the small talk is cut out, and you get to what's really important.