But now there’s a new game in town: snorkeling with belugas. Yep, you can don a dry suit and slip into water that was frozen solid last week and come nose to nose with beluga whales. John Flinn took the plunge and conveyed his experience in the San Francisco Chronicle this week.

Bob Howells, an editor-at-large for National Geographic Adventure, also gave it a whirl in a story that won the Adventure Travel gold medal in the Solas Awards and also contributed to his Lowell Thomas silver placement as Travel Journalist of the Year.

On my trip a few years back, during many hours of vigilant horizon panning, imagining every mound and swale to be moving, I saw lots of creatures: arctic foxes, snowy owls, beluga whales, but no polar bears, not until dusk on my last day, way off in the distance.

It was a lesson in observation: I saw lots of interesting things while looking for something I almost didn’t find, and realized that, while it was nice to finally see the bear, seeing everything else was its own reward. The landscape around Churchill is big and rough and raw, and I might not have noticed so much if bears had been crowding the horizon.

Maybe it was the long bus ride that had warped my ability to make sense of my surroundings, or it could have been my diet of magic realism literature I was on at the time, but the scene I wound through that night presented the kind of phantasmagoria that can induce hallucinations. Was everyone in costume? Was it a warmup for Dia de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead? Colors flashed by, shouts and laughter and the melodious rhythms of Spanish ricocheted off balconied buildings. Smoke from street stalls carried the scent of grilled meat. And I continued to push my way, gently because this was a happy throng, across the plaza to the hotel.

When I squeezed through the doors into a busy lobby I learned I’d arrived in the middle of the Cervantes International Arts Festival. Tired as as I was, I knew I had to get out with the crowd. There was too much energy in the streets to do anything else.

And what a reward I received. I flowed with the masses to an open-air theater to watch a series of skits from Don Quixote under the stars. It didn’t matter that my mediocre Spanish wasn’t up to the task, I got most of the meaning through the actors’ delivery. When the curtain went down the fireworks went off, flames and sparks shooting everywhere, whirligigs spitting fire above the audience, the night erupting in celebration before the lights came up. I really did feel I was in the middle of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel.

This year the festival runs October 14 to November 1 with more than 2300 artists from 25 nations and 5 continents presenting opera, music, dance, theater, visual arts, film and academic activities.

During my few days in the city I went to many of the tourist sites — the catacombs to look at the mummies, Diego Rivera’s house and museum, the tunnels that draw off the traffic to make the center of the city a pedestrian zone, Callejón del Beso (the Alley of the Kiss) on a lane so narrow lovers are said to be able to kiss across it from their balconies, the viewpoint on San Miguel hill commemorating the beginning of the Mexican War of Independence — but what really stayed with me was the  flamboyant energy of the Cervantes Festival, a party I’d known nothing about, but remember every autumn.

Which is a good reason to find an outfitter who can handle the logistics. Some top adventure companies offer trips on the Mekong, but these are mostly cruises. For journeys by kayak, Bangkok-based river explorer Steve Van Beek brings something extra: 40 years of residence in Southeast Asia and almost as many years exploring the region’s rivers.

I first met Steve about 20 years ago when I was passing through Bangkok on my way to Nepal. A mutual friend told me I had to call him when I was there because Steve had been living in Bangkok for decades and had a profound knowledge of Southeast Asia. Despite jet lag and a short layover I rang him up, we met for lunch, and our paths have been crossing ever since.

Steve was the guy I called for news from the street when a coup took place in Bangkok. He was a source for Thai literature, a repository of cultural and historical knowledge, and an engaging storyteller. His book, Slithering South, chronicled the first full paddle descent of Thailand’s Chao Phraya River — a trip he made solo — and shed light on the characters and culture of these remote regions accessible only by water.

Now he runs tours on the rivers of Southeast Asia, primarily the Mekong as it makes its way through Laos. Outside magazine called one of his trips “one of 48 trips of a lifetime.” Joshua Kurlantzick in The New York Times reported on a startling discovery he made on one of his tours. National Geographic Adventure also featured his trips in a story about Mekong River journeys.

All of which made me begin thinking about the Mekong — in a positive light these days — and wondering if I can cross paths again with Steve, this time on the water. I’ve never been on a river trip with him, and it’s time to get my paddling skills in shape.

Tomorrow the host city of the 2016 Summer Games will be announced in Copenhagen, Denmark. The front-running candidates are Chicago, Rio de Janeiro, Tokyo and Madrid. President and Michelle Obama will be there to forward the Chicago bid, which because of their star power is leading Rio as the top pick. Rio would be the first South American city to host a games. Mexico City was the host in ’68, but Rio has captured the hearts of South America and the hopes of the continent. I have to say, sentimentally I favor Rio, but having been there I can’t quite picture how the city could pull off the Games. I visited Rio and other Brazilian cities on a fabulous whirlwind trip with my dad and two of his friend’s in the ’90s.  Security alone (every hotel room had a safe) is worrying.

I wrote a story, years ago, about Rio edging out cities in South Africa for the most crime ridden city in the world and the concern in Rio was palpable. I also remember being driven from the airport into the city, and drivers don’t stay in their lanes, they straddle; it was terrifying.  I’ll never forget driving to a beach town and on a four lane highway a crowd was gathered around a dead horse.

Now I’m not saying that the Rio bid is not sophisticated or marvelous (Rio is arguably the most colorful and fun city in the world), I just am trying to imagine all the logistics. As for Tokyo, Japan hosted the winter games in the ’90s and Barcelona in Spain was the host relatively recently too, and the U.S. well there has been Atlanta, L.A. and Salt Lake City in the last 20 years, so it only seems fair that Rio be the sentimental favorite for most of the world.

So it comes down to Chicago and Rio. For Chicago it would mean a chance to be center stage, revamp the gangster image and give the world a taste of Midwestern hospitality, but it must be said, Atlanta and Salt Lake City have hosted in the last 20 years and my heart is leaning towards Rio…we’ll see tomorrow.