Great book. Worst subtitle ever.
An odd way to kick off a book review, but when I saw that Mark Zolo (aka the Naughty Nomad) actually gave his debut memoir that bland, forgettable subtitle, I groaned. Everyone loves to think they’re unique and shpecial, and while I’m no stranger to Mark’s blog, my reflex is to gag whenever I see cliches like that.
The only way things could be any worse is if he’d added “no-holds-barred” somewhere in the description.
But get past the subtitle and you’ll realize that Mark’s telling the truth. Hell, the first chapter begins with him stranded on an Antarctic icebreaker vessel, trapped after failing to rescue another ship trapped in the ice. Forget the usual tales of drug abuse, drinking and sex with exotic, foreign women: while Naughty Nomad has them in spades (and they’re damned interesting), the defining parts of the book are Mark’s constant flirtations with death.
And by “flirtations,” I mean “full-on dirty dancing and Frenching on the dance floor.”
I shit you not when I say that over the course of the book, Mark manages to survive the following:
- Getting run over by a car and having his arm dislocated.
- Sneaking across international borders, evading AK-toting soldiers.
- Smuggling drugs through multiple countries.
- Being aggressively seduced by an African woman with HIV.
And more, way more. By all rights, Mark should be lying in a shallow grave somewhere in the jungles of central Africa, or the other places he’s been to. Yet through quick thinking and plain luck, he and his off-and-on traveling buddies (the perennial fuck-up Paddy and the boundlessly energetic Danny) escape unscathed, with fun memories of smoking pot and hooking up with hot girls.
Bottom line: if you’re looking for another travel story that goes beyond the usual tales of fucking and boozing (way, way beyond), Naughty Nomad is an absolute must-buy.
Words weren’t needed—we spoke the language of lust. I got out of the shower to find Nia dancing naked in front of the mirror. The way she moved her hips and ass was so sexy.
Boing! My dick shot up like a Looney Tune.
I laid her down on the bed and started kissing her, savouring every inch of her dark, soft flesh. I’d never been with a woman so slim, tanned, and confident about her body—it was like a breath of pure, fresh air.
After nearly an hour of foreplay, I finally slipped my cock inside her weeping little pussy. She was so tight. I didn’t have a condom, but that was the last thing on my mind. The missionary position with a freshly stitched dislocated arm was a bitch.
I was screaming inside.
Click here to buy Naughty Nomad: Not Your Typical Backpacker Story.
Read Next: The Exile: Sex, Drugs, and Libel in the New Russia by Mark Ames and Matt Taibbi