This collection of 26 first-person essays by Lonely Planet writers includes tales that describe, in mostly self-effacing detail, the horrors and embarrassments that can befall even the most seasoned travelers. Getting into his car after a soul-cleansing hike in "Walking the Mount Kailash Circuit," Wheeler, founder of Lonely Planet Publications, is startled when a drunk Tibetan repeatedly slams his head against the car windshield. In her Kafkaesque tale of her detention in a police station in Mirny, a desolate Siberian city, Suzanne Possehl writes: "I tell him I write for Lonely Planet; he looks at me like I'm from another planet." Andrew Draffen details in "The Local Cure" how he survived a case of Bicho Geographico, a parasite he picked up while walking (stoned) along a beach in Trancoso, in the northeast section of Brazil. He turned to native bartender Ulysses, who recommended a natural way to stop the parasite from burrowing too far into the travel writer's skin. The remedy? Draffen tied a huge block of ice to his foot and drank caiupirinhas till he was too soused to worry; eventually, the parasite froze "estupidamente gelada (stupidly cold)." Readers wanting a real look at what it's like to work in one of the most seemingly glamorous professions will find a wide variety of insider information and confessions of na?vet? and helplessness experienced in remote parts of the world. (Nov.)