Writing a guidebook can be likened to the Greek myth of Tantalus. Condemned for allegedly stealing the ambrosia from the gods, his eternal punishment was to stand in a pool of water with overhanging boughs of sumptuous fruit. Each time he bent over to drink the water, it drained away, and each time he reached for the luscious fruit overhead, they receded, torturously, from his grasp.

As a guidebook writer, you are somewhat of the illusion that travel and writing are synonymous with paradise. What you come to find out, perhaps only too late, is that most things that the frugal traveler or the luxury traveler budgets for are really not part of your remit. You must remember that you are hired to travel perhaps in a way that is anathema to what you have ever done before. Want to take those three days lounging on the beach at that newly discovered villa? Forget it, you can't afford it, and besides, you have three more cities to see in three days. Want to eat that resplendent dish of lobster and tiger prawns while sipping a glass of chilled French wine? Not a chance. You can only afford one croissant for breakfast, a bowl of rice and meat for lunch, and for dinner - well- get the rest of that rice and meat to go. While I'm at it, you can also stop gazing cross-eyed at those photos in Conde Nast Traveler, with luxury hotels of infinity pools and palm-fringed umbrellas dipped in glittering sand. Sure, I've visited them. But I stay a half an hour to check out the pool and gain an insight into how to throw all your savings away in a week. Not too desirable for a travel guidebook writer. Oh, and the concierge takes one look at your scabby feet and nods delicately towards the door.

Okay, okay, so I'm not being totally up front. Actually, guidebook writing isn't all that bad. Once you get into the swing of things, learn to expect nothing and keep your eyes open and your ears tuned, you can have an amazing time. Sure, it is stressful, and you can pack an inhumane and unnatural amount of work into a short time frame, but once in a while you actually do pinch yourself over your good luck.

I've been traveling around Senegal writing a guidebook for the last two weeks, and, through all of it, I've tried to maintain a pretty level head about it all. I've been economizing, struggling, eating nice, dry baguettes, and texting only. I've been sleeping pretty rough and taking bush taxis that cannot be considered legal for the roads. But suddenly last week, I found myself being offered a three day cruise down the Senegal River on a beautiful old river boat, all expenses paid. I had a private chauffeur that drove me around so that I could do my research in the stopover towns. I was taken to the desert to sleep in a Mauritanian tent under a cloudless starry sky. I dined on marinated fish brochettes, swam in a river, and wiled away some evenings listening to legends of the region. It was magical.

My point is, that sometimes you get paradise, other times, hell, and they are not mutually exclusive when writing a guidebook. The infinity pool may be tantalizing, but sometimes you got to put your head down, get on with it, and know that you might just get lucky. And that can make it utterly worth it.