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Recently someone emailed me, asking if they should backpack around the world or take luggage. My answer? It depends. What’s your comfort level? Will you be going from airport or train station straight to a hotel? Or will you be canvassing the city before settling on a hostel you can’t find in the guidebooks? It seems the more you travel, the better you can refine your requirements. Do you really need a hotel or will a dorm room with six bunk beds suffice? Should you fly from place to place or take the train or even drive from country to country? Is it going to be a 6 month apartment lease or winging it as you go, staying in stranger’s homes? You are not in Seattle anymore.

Over time my travel sensibilities has changed. I know what I can scrimp on (hostels) and what I can’t (having my dogs with us). It started me thinking– what are the different types of traveler?

The Jet Setter: You are independently financed (or at least well-financed). You travel between any category of comfort, but really you can afford 5 star all the way. You might have a couple of apartments strategically located in key cities (Seattle, NY, Paris, Buenos Aires). You might go budget, but it’s more for the thrill of slumming it for a weekend, than out of financial necessity.

The Expat: You’re the middle class of world travel. You live abroad, but you’re not roughing it. You have a job (or several) and a long term lease on your flat. You don’t stay in hostels or hotels, those are for tourists and kids. You don’t have the flexibility of backpackers, but having your own place, building relationships and calling a new country home, is totally worth it.

The Professional Traveler: You wish you were an expat, but you can only sit still for 3 months at a time (at most!) You still rent an apartment, get settled in, but you’re traveling the world in 3-4 leaps a year. You might backpack between cities, use hostels or hotels or just stay put for a few months before moving on. You might work short term teaching gigs, but most likely you get your income from freelance work– you can be anywhere, as long as it has good internet (and coffee).

The Road Warrior: You bought a van or RV and you’re traveling in your home. These folks can range from retirees with a million dollar rig to a few college students going from Cali to Chile in their parents old VW. Closer to backpacker than expat, these folks have maximum flexibility (as long as you travel one continent) and can move much more stuff than they can carry.

The Flashpacker: Besides being the hottest new buzz word in RTW travel, you’re probably a little too old to care. You don’t mind backpacking, taking public transportation or sleeping in a dorm room. But you don’t have to, and if the mood strikes, you have no problem paying for a nice hotel, scuba lessons or a flight to your next destination. It’s what happens to backpackers when they get old enough to have a 401K and a healthy savings account. Independent travel is still key, but the budget is way more flexible.

The Backpacker: You’re carrying everything you own, and trying to live on $10 a day. You are not only staying in a hostel, but washing your socks in the bathroom sink after a dinner of ramen. You haven’t slept in the same city for more than a week in months, and you’re loving it. Bonus points if you use couch surfing, become a busker or hitchhike.

What’s your travel style? Has it changed over time? I wonder if there is a progression from backpacker to flashpacker to expat. Or from Jet Setter to Professional Traveler. Or do we stick to one way of traveling?

I’ve been meaning to write about this for a while. I had recently read a piece about location independent living that said most bloggers were getting it wrong… living anywhere wasn’t the point, it was how you live. He was right about the last point. His solution? Create as much wealth as possible. On this, he was dead wrong. It’s the same trap that keeps you treading water in a 9-5, wishing but never acting on your so-called “dream” life. To me, it’s about creating a lifestyle that is balanced.

The whole “travel-the-world” thing sounds great, and it is. But you will get burned out. You will become jaded. You’ll seek novelty, but find none. You’ve done it all (or so it seems). Travel for it’s own sake is a short term solution and if you don’t find something else to create meaning in your life, you won’t be happy. Part of what makes travel so alluring and magical is it’s scarcity. Ask anyone who travels 365 days a year and their perspective is decidedly anti-travel. A vacation for them? A whole week in their house, napping on the couch, watching TV and ordering pizza. I’m sure there are some travel writers (especially the guide book variety) that think that sounds just like heaven.

So why do I write so much about travel? For me, it was the spark. It’s the idea that got me out of bed in the morning, energized about my future plans and motivated to take the leap. I probably love travel even more than I did before, back when I had no clue what the world looked like, and even less about what a long term traveling lifestyle would entail. It has opened doors for me, and shown me more about myself and human nature than I might have learned in 10 years at home. But at the end of the day, it’s not the travel alone that makes my lifestyle work, it’s the lifestyle redesign to get there that I cherish most.

I don’t write about these things often, maybe because it opens up the inevitable discord from those not where they want to be. But I think it’s important for anyone who’s planning on taking the leap to keep the bigger picture in mind. We quit our jobs, we redesign our lives for one reason only: freedom. For me, that freedom means being able to travel when I want, and to stop traveling when I’m tired. It means being able to help a family member fix up their house for three months (last fall). It means being pregnant and getting to take 3 hour naps every day if I want (which I did the entire first month). It means spending my days writing, playing with techie blog things and taking pictures (three things I love).

It means never having to do something I truly loathe.

In fact, I’d probably be a much wealthier, more successful and better published writer if I did do things I didn’t like. But I don’t care. I have enough money, I have my flexibility and somewhere along the line, I made the decision that it simply wasn’t worth it to me to write certain kinds of articles or to embed SEO keywords into my posts or to take on clients that would make me unhappy.

I’m not the only one making this work. In fact, I know one blogger who actually loves the SEO stuff and makes a good portion of his living off of this knowledge. It’s not about what path you take, just that you’re putting quality effort into whatever you do. Say it with me, “You don’t have to do stuff you hate”. There’s always another way.

Even as I write this, I can hear the cries of, “Well I have XYZ responsibilities, must be nice, but for me….” I know! There are compromises. I don’t buy new stuff for myself. I live as cheaply as possible. Sometimes when I travel, I’ll stay in a hostel, sleeping in a dorm bed with a dozen strangers in the same room. I saved before I left. I save money now. These are all things I have no problem doing, because they’re not that big of a deal to me. You might have other preferences. You might prefer to travel in more luxury and as a compromise you work more hours. Our paths might be different, but the outcome should be the same.

I’ve been working on my non-traditional lifestyle for two years now. If you’re just starting out doing this, you’re justifiably cynical. The point is, the goal should always be to do something we love everyday. If you’re redesigning your life to travel, but you’re funding it with stuff you hate, you’re missing the point. If you quit your job only to start a business that bores you to tears, then we have a problem. If you have to work 100 hours a week, and you can’t just blow everything off for a month, then what’s the point? We have been taught rules: all paying work must involve things we strongly dislike, dragging yourself out of bed each day is proof you’re an adult, and no one is allowed to be happy without paying their dues. Don’t buy into it.

The key to redesigning your life is eliminate everything that doesn’t add value or saps your ability to act independently. It’s the mindset of the surly teen… “How do I get out of doing this?” It’s a process. You get rid of the soul-sucking job, but then you add back in soul-sucking clients. You weed them down to the good ones, and then you try your hand at a small business. You might find a good balance, but then panic because a high profile project comes along (if I pass, maybe I’m making a huge mistake) only to find yourself digging your way out of 6 months of tedious work. You get better at trusting you instincts and things like cash and high-profile gigs can’t draw you in anymore. You’ve found something more valuable.

So I write about travel, because to me that represents the big fat someday. It’s the common dream we all share, but in reality we’re all folding different hopes and expectations in. For some people travel sounds like a vacation, napping in a hammock on the beach, with a cold beer at your finger tips. For others it’s pure excitement, the fast paced, seat-of-your-pants ride through another country, into another culture. And for others it’s about giving back, or learning, or solitude or self discovery. Travel is the metaphor that helps us understand the shared intent: the freedom to spend our days doing what we’d like. It’s an insanely simple idea. In hindsight it’s stupidly simple to implement (although it never feels that way). The hard part? Giving yourself permission to be wildly, irresponsibly happy.

Five guidebooks, each covered with pictures of golden temples and vivid spices, gave me the same advice: when I go to Southeast Asia and India, I should use the right hand to eat and gesture because the left hand is considered unclean. I do not know what these guidebook writers would have thought of my left-handed cousin, who was born and raised in North India, and always used her left hand even when accepting the offerings of Gods at temples. Her left-handedness was important to her and she was not willing to sacrifice it merely to satisfy the whims of strangers.

We travelers get this type of advice all the time, that is, advice on how to fit in to the community to which we travel. I have been advised to wear black clothing and designer jeans in Italy, to speak exclusively Spanish in Spain, and to dress modestly and avoid speaking with men in Middle Eastern countries. But, though I may try my best to adapt, I will never be mistaken for a local. And, even if the subterfuge of changing my dress, language, and mannerisms would be enough to mark me as a local, do I want to give up my heritage, culture, and predispositions merely because I have crossed borders?

The Problem With Adaptation
“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” Charles Darwin, The Origin of the Species

The traveler who adapts to foreign customs is most likely to manage the hassles and pressures of travel. Though I was born in Philadelphia, spent most of my life in Alabama, and speak Tamil poorly, my skin color and features instantly define me as a person of Indian-descent, so I wear salwar kameez when I travel in India to avoid being stared at or hassled by the local touts. We adapt not only to avoid the irritations of the foreign nation but also to show respect for the culture and customs of the people upon whose country we descend. At Ayers Rock, when the aborigines asked us not to take pictures of their sacred sites, we complied even though we saw other Westerners pressing their flash buttons.

As with all things, there are people who take adaptability to the extreme. When we were in Ireland in 2003, we met Americans who slapped Canadian stickers on their backpacks, not because they were ashamed of their country but rather because they did not want to be questioned and antagonized about American policies and the Iraq war.

No matter how we adapt, whether simply changing our clothing or deceiving others about our origin and nationality, we lose a bit of our authentic self through the process. Some will argue that these changes are good and by adapting, we become more broad-minded about ourselves and the world around us. I hesitate on that point. Middle Easterners argue that adaptation to Western society is killing their culture and customs, as children are exposed to shocking sexually suggestive lyrics from musicians and nudity on television. In the same way, I wonder why I voluntarily set aside my beliefs in feminism by acceding to the wishes of conservative nations and cover my head, shoulders, and legs while traveling through those nations.

This is the problem of adaptation. Though our attempts to change ourselves may assure our survival in a foreign land, we may not be happy in merely surviving.

The Problem With Authenticity
Then, let us reintroduce the self – like my left-handed cousin who refused to use her right hand at temples, I decide which beliefs are important to me and I place a strangle hold on them, refusing to adjust or alter them despite foreign customs to the contrary.

A good example is my vegetarianism. I was raised vegetarian in a South Indian household and remained vegetarian even when my brother and cousins started eating meat because I did not wish to consciously harm an animal by my actions. Traveling as a vegetarian is undoubtedly a challenge. I lived in Spain for two months, where roast pigs and beef hang from every second storefront, and never tried paella; I spent a month in Australia and ate mostly pastas and French fries; and I have lived my entire life in the United States and never tried a McDonald’s hamburger or a thick cut steak. I refuse to eat meat because vegetarianism is part of my world view though many cultures do not understand that viewpoint.

The extremists, who refuse to adapt at all, do exist as well. This is the stereotypical “obnoxious American traveler” who sees the country through the window of a tour bus and demands McDonalds everywhere, without interest or desire in meeting the citizens whose country they seek to visit. Recently, for example, one couple advised us that when we go to Egypt, we should not step out of our hotel or tour group or try to meet the local people because of the chaos and unsanitary conditions. Even world-renowned traveler Rick Steves may fall into this category with his advice that travelers should abandon learning foreign phrases and instead use “Special English,” by speaking like a “Dick and Jane primer,” while in Europe.

The problem with remaining true to our principles while traveling is that we may sacrifice opportunities. Though Saudi Arabia is incredibly beautiful, I do not plan to travel there because I would be embarrassed and suffocated in a place where I could not enter a restaurant or drive a car because of my gender. I do not criticize the Saudi Arabians for their beliefs but recognize that mine are different and that I do not want to alter my beliefs in feminism just to satisfy my curiosity about their culture and country. Similarly, because I am vegetarian, I miss many important cultural experiences, such as eating fresh caught sushi, Argentinian barbecue, and French foie gras.

The Balance
The hardest part of travel is finding the balance between authenticity and adaptability. Though I do not eat meat, I eat everything vegetarian, including oddities like sweet potatoes cooked in geothermal steam and durian. We have seen girls wear shorts in India yet immerse themselves in the local culture and cuisine. We have Sikh friends who speak fluent English, eat American food, but wear their beard long and a turban wrapped around their head.

All humans an intrinsic desire to fit in to their surroundings, yet, no matter how much we try to mimic the language, patterns, practices, and customs of another country, as Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, “There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.” We bring our customs, our beliefs, and our lives with us when we cross borders and, in doing so, educate others about our own country. The question every traveler faces is which beliefs and habits to give up and which we should hold on.