Thailand is a country that refuses to be neatly pinned down. Most travelers dash between the same greatest hits — Bangkok’s temples, Chiang Mai’s elephants, Phuket’s beach bars — without scratching the country’s itchier, weirder spots.

I’ve always been curious about different medical practices around the world. But nothing — absolutely nothing — could have prepared me for the Ayurvedic massage I experienced in Pondicherry, India.

I was in a dusty little shop in Thamel, Kathmandu, looking for snacks and toothpaste, when something strange caught my eye: “Mad Honey – Product of Nepal.” It looked like any regular jar of honey, but the label had a small warning symbol and one curious line: “Consume with care.”

What do you do when you land in Kuala Lumpur in the middle of the night, dead tired and completely broke? That’s not a rhetorical question. I know exactly what you do — because I’ve done it. And let me tell you, it’s not pretty.

I was drawn into a world of Thai-boxing monks riding horses through the golden hills near the Myanmar border—rescuing orphans, teaching dharma, and helps build healthy communities in a region deeply affected by drug trafficking.

Cultural relativism invites you to travel with open eyes and an open heart. Every culture holds wisdom — not just in its grand philosophies, but in the way people grow food, raise children, handle silence, celebrate, grieve, and make sense of the world. With this lens, you won’t just return with souvenirs — you’ll come home with insights you won’t find in any Western textbook.

Somewhere between the back alleys of Bangkok and the bamboo hills of northern Laos, I lost something. Or maybe I found it. Myself, perhaps? Or the self I used to be. Either way, I never came home the same.

"Hey you! What are you looking for? Taxi? Maybe a cute girl?" A local guy materializes from an alley in Da Nang, Vietnam. I had planned a quiet night of Vietnamese potato chips and bad hotel Wi-Fi. The universe had other ideas.

If the gods of gastronomy were to throw a dinner party, I’m fairly sure the Thai kitchen would be responsible for the menu—a fever dream of lime leaves, chili heat, fermented funk, and coconut calm. Eating in Thailand isn’t just a way to refuel. It’s a full-contact sport, a ritual, a social glue, and occasionally a dare.

This is the story of a journey through five of India’s Seven Sisters. Of rice wine toasts and jungle bathrooms, of mountain roads, roadside wisdom, and sacred traditions whispered over campfires.

I woke to the sound of Kong’s voice outside my window. Kong is my neighbor and one of the few people in the village who speaks a bit of English. He’s also taken it upon himself to be my unofficial cultural translator. (You’ll hear more about him. Think of him as my spiritual guide through mud and chili sauce.)

Imagine this: You're deep in the Laos countryside, far from the comfort of civilization, when your stomach sends out a distress signal—loud, urgent, and non-negotiable. Yesterday’s suspiciously spicy soup is staging a full-blown revolution. If you don’t act now, you’re going to crap your pants. What do you do?

I went to South Korea and Jeju Island on a scientific conference in 2015. And I loved Jeju so much that I extended my stay to explore more. Jeju Island is where nature whispers, the wind sings, and everything feels just a little more alive.

In a world where opposing concepts often seem to stand in contrast to one another, there sometimes emerges the fascinating phenomenon known as beautiful destruction. This inspiring concept explores the complex beauty that can arise even in what appears to be chaos and ruin.

Viktor Frankl´s perspectives have been a great inspiration for me. You can control how you think and feel. This is the most liberating realization in life.

In Thai culture, the veil between this world and the spirit world is thinner than in the West. Join us on a journey into the heart of Isaan, Thailand, where ancient animist rituals and spirit ceremonies are still very much alive.

Who said anthropological theories are boring? Theories help us understand what’s happening in the world on a deeper level. Here are 3 anthropological classics!

Death is a topic that is often avoided or feared in Norway. A taboo. It is not something that should be talked about or thought about. This also shapes our relationship with the natural process that we all must go through. But is it healthy? And could it be that we might have better lives by thinking more about death?

It's not uncommon for me to get questions about what social anthropology is. Not only from the general public, but also from individuals who have been in academia for a long time. In this post, I will attempt to explain it.