Travel - page 2

When I announced that I planned to go to Croatia, it was based on a photo I had seen online. It was taken from within a door frame, peering out towards brilliant blue water just few feet away. I thought, “Wow, I have to go there.” When I arrived, I soon found that many others agreed with me, and the country that occupies the coastline across the Adriatic sea from Italy was just as beautiful as that fateful photo.

However as I traveled, I noticed something strange. I didn’t met a single American. This was part of Europe and unlike other European cities I’ve visited, I seemed to be the only one with that familiar blue passport. Why were Americans missing out on the worst kept secret in Europe?

Croatia has a brand name problem

First of all, “Croatia” didn’t always exist. Before 1990 it was part of the former Yugoslavia. When a few countries declared independence and the area later fell into civil war, the Bosnian’s, Serbs, and Croats made news for 5 years as they fought, signed peace accords and started fighting again. Not exactly the kind of PR that says “visit here”.

Perhaps this is why Americans have kept their distance? I have to admit, I had an embarrassingly poor knowledge of the dissolution of Yugoslavia and following civil war, despite it happening in my lifetime. A little research fixed this. The civil war is long since over, and Croatia even boasts a low crime rate. If you want to read more about it, Wikipedia offers an overview of the history. Also the US State Department has an official summary (and no travel warnings).

It’s safe, but is it that good?

Let me put it this way. If you like azure water, sheltered beaches, cheap prices, ancient architecture, friendly people, access to islands and seafood, then um, yes, you might like it a little. However, there are the beginnings of a tourist culture: stands have popped up selling flip flops and t-shirts, English is widely spoken, and tour boats litter the marina.

But compared to the Caribbean, Hawaii, Mexico, the French Riviera, or Greece– Croatia is truly in its infancy. Tourism only picked up in 2000, and I predict it will be a couple more years before the Hilton builds a 16 swimming pool monstrosity that blocks the view for all but the most affluent. For now, it’s a sleepy coastal town that hasn’t quite figured out what to make of all these people who descend every summer.

Once Croatia enters the EU (~2010), prices may go up or they may attract the attention of international hotel developers.

Until then, it’s all yours. A place so small that you’ll recognize fellow travelers in town or get to know your waiter’s kids as they sit at the table next to you. In short, it’s unexpected.

A friend said this to me via email, “You know, you’re not selling Beijing to me. You really aren’t. To be fair I never had much of a desire to go there before, but now? Not at all.” I live in Seattle now and going to Beijing China was not on my most popular places to visit list.

That’s not an overexposed shot, that’s the view from my desk. The sky was clear and the view was amazing! According to BeijingAir right now it’s “unhealthy” levels. Last night it was perfectly clear and rated “good”. It comes, it goes, and after a month of living here, it’s as much a part of our life as the weather. Is it sunny out? How’s the air?

I thought about leaving, came close to doing it, until I researched other cities in China (like Harbin in the north) and Beijing isn’t even the worst. It’s not even in the top 10 for worst air quality.  I could go south, but then I’d be in areas where Cantonese is spoken on the street, not Mandarin.  It’s only six months.  It might cause me to have a cold longer or aggravate my allergies, but from everything I’ve read, spending six months here won’t do any permanent damage, even for small children.

So we decided to stay.

Why? I think I’m slowly becoming charmed by Beijing.  I like the idea of going somewhere unpopular but culturally important.  I feel like I’m on an adventure.  If nothing else, I’ll learn a lot.  Plus, we finally found an apartment.

I had no idea how unprepared I was to live with an almost 2-year old in a hotel room for a month.  He needs space!  Or at least warm weather.  If he doesn’t have either, he’s kind of a mess… bursting into tears when we put on his clothes, clinging to me, refusing to walk anywhere, just wanting to be at home, with mom, in bed.  So I did that.  It’s not his fault that I wanted to go to China, so I made myself as flexible and malleable to his desires as possible.  We snuggled.  I stayed in.  I sent Drew out for food and read books while Cole used my body as a jungle gym.  Slowly he’s been adjusting, but the biggest breakthrough came when we stepped into our new 2-bedroom apartment.  He can be naked.  He can run!  He can climb things!  He can have his cut-up bananas on the sofa and watch cartoons.  He can shove his toy cars under the couch and then throw my books off my desk.  There’s drawers for hiding mom’s shoes and full bathtub for mini-swims.  We’re back in business. We found a lot of new toys he loves since we left most of it in Seattle Washington.

Granted, our apartment hunt took a long time, even if you let me play the “But I’ve got a toddler!” card (you are letting me play that, right?). I had a lot of people giving me advice, but the first thing you should know: I’m cheap.

I really don’t like the idea of paying an agent a month’s rent (or $1000) to find me an apartment I’ll be in for six months. Plus, landlords in China want a few months rent in advance for a year rental. For short term rentals, they often want the entire rent (all six months in our case), plus a month’s rent deposit.

Apartments are kind of expensive here. For us that means at least $1000 but realistically more like $1500. So that’s $9000 for rent, $1500 for the agent, and $1500 for the deposit. Oh and they want that in cash — in this case, all $12000 of it. Which means doing a wire transfer to a bank in China and withdrawing it here (not even sure how that would work) or trying to take out that money via ATM which at $300 withdrawal per day, it would take me 40 days just to get the money on hand (assuming I spent nothing else). I’m sure I could have worked it out if I had to but I wanted to avoid that. Second thing you should know: I’m stubborn.

Finally, Beijing is big. It’s about an hour cab ride from one end of the city to the other, and that’s not even all the way out to the suburbs like Shunyi.  I really hate the idea of being stuck somewhere lame, so I wanted to find the perfect place that’s close to everywhere, cheap and has flexible short term living arrangements.

To modify a popular expression in graphic design (cheap, good or fast): There are three things you can have in Beijing:

1. Cheap
2. Good location
3. Clean, nice apartment

Now, pick two.

Third thing about me: I can be obsessive.

So we started in Wangfujing (near the Forbidden City) and moved hotels every couple of days, checking out different areas, coming close to staying in Haidian (near the universities), then perhaps Xidan St. (nice apartment, but located in the middle of a mall), then near Sanlitun (too expensive) and finally Wangjing (Koreatown, a hike from downtown but cheap).

I was determined to find a place that met all three. I’m cheap, stubborn and obsessive. I failed, but I did get a month-long tour of Beijing, and I’m sort of pleased to say I know my way around the different districts pretty well now. (I can also find the silver lining in just about anything).

In the end we went for the big, clean, nicely appointed apartment in Wangjing, in an area that fits us well (mostly locals living here, an art scene at 798 Art Zone and a great market next door) but we’re about a $10 cab ride from any of the tourist-related activities, a concession since I’d still like to visit the old Hutongs more and take some cooking classes, but one I felt the best about making.

It’s a serviced apartment, so we’re renting month to month. It’s still pricey ($1500/mo) but if you factor in agent fees and deposits, then it’s not bad compared to straight rentals for short term leases. (Sorry I won’t share the name of the place until after we leave, but you can find similar places online).

Resources:

Timeout Beijing has an excellent housing guide which is pretty damn accurate about the pros/cons of different areas. Their color-coded map of Beijing is practically a guide to everywhere we looked. The Beijinger is a good resource, but chock-a-block full of scammy listings where the photo isn’t real or the agent does a swap (“Oh that place *just* got rented, but here’s a twice as expensive option”).  Craigslist, Homeaway and Roomarama weren’t helpful.  For agented rentals there are these sites: Beijing Relocation, Fangeasy, Homelink. Ctrip and Agoda are good for finding hotels, although check both, sometimes the price is cheaper on one or the other.  They also list serviced apartments or hotel rooms with kitchens or multiple bedrooms.  Student and Beijing resident Nate Nault recently wrote about his experience “Finding My First Apartment Abroad” and Timeout Beijing also has a round up this month called Apartment Horror Stories.

And that, my friends is how I found my Beijing apartment from Seattle.  I’m going to take a nap now.

If you’re planning an adventurous trip into the Amazon basin of South America, then you might like some tips for traveling by dug-out canoe.

By that I don’t mean those larger motorized boats that are use to ferry tourists to their luxury eco-lodge, but a canoe that’s carved from a single tree, normally with an outboard, that the locals use to get around on the river. This is the sort of thing you might do if you arrange to stay in a local village a little off the tourist trail, such as Sarayaku, where I spent a few days in Ecuador. You may spend a few hours on this kind of canoe, going to your village base, or being taken to other villages or parts of the river to explore. Here are my tips for getting the most out of this kind of journey:

1. Travel light
   Even if you’re doing the grand tour of South America, you’ll need to leave some of your luggage behind at the offices or homes of the people who arrange your trip. The dug-out canoes can take an amazing amount of stuff when they’re packed, but even so, you’ll need to take as little as you need for that part of the trip. If you fly out of your village by light aircraft, you’ll have a strict limit on the weight of your luggage too – so leave that heavy rucksack behind.
2. Bring snacks to share
   Before you head off, stock up in the local town or village on small snacks, such as dried fruit, biscuits and boiled sweets. If you’re in the canoe for a few hours, you may not get a chance to eat properly and it’s always much appreciated when you share what you have with your boatmen – I never knew them to refuse! When you’re feeling damp after a heavy shower, you might need a little sweetening.
3. Don’t drink too much water
   It may sound obvious, but you’ll probably only get the occasional stop on a sand-bank every hour or so. The river bank is not always ideal for a quick stop, with mangroves and thick vegetation, and even then you’ll have to venture into the snake’s home territory for a bit of privacy. Obviously you don’t want to get dehydrated, but probably not the time to have that second cup of coffee before you leave.
4. Give away what you don’t need at the end
   When I travel to these kind of places, I always try to take stuff with me that I’m happy to give away at the end of the trip. Any T-shirts, flip flops, and food that you don’t need to keep at the end of the trip will be appreciated by your boatmen or other locals, who will gift it around their extended family. Depending on what financial arrangement you made at the beginning, you may also want to give a tip to those who especially helped you.
5. Buy Wellies
   Don’t leave for the rain forest without buying wellies at the nearest town. It’s what the well-dressed local will be wearing, and will be essential for jumping in and out of boats onto a muddy shore and for tramping around paths in the rain forest. I never used my walking boots in the rain forest. When you leave the area, just leave them behind for a local to use.
6. Buy a poncho
   I hear you saying, ‘but I have this fantastic, expensive high tech rain jacket’. Ok, but still invest in a cheap poncho for boat trips like this. When the heavens open on you sitting in the canoe, you’ll find your legs and day sack are much better protected than with that expensive rain jacket.
7. Keep your day sack with you
   Be aware that your backpack or luggage will be packed carefully in the bottom of the canoe, wrapped in plastic sheeting and you probably won’t be able to access it until your journey’s end. So make sure you have a day sack to keep with you with all the essentials of food, water, hat, poncho, camera etc that you’ll need on the journey.
8. Pack in lots of plastic bags
   Obviously the rain forest is called that because …it rains….a lot. The air is humid and so you’ll need to protect everything, especially camera gear from steaming up or getting splashed in the canoe. A good supply of plastic bags and bin liners will do the trick. If you want to splash out (pardon the pun), you could invest in those roll-over top waterproof bags that come in all sizes – it’s probably worthwhile if you have lots of expensive camera gear.
9. Ask for life jackets
   If you’re arranging your trip with an established company, then this will be taken care of, but if it’s a one-off that you’ve arrange locally you can’t assume that life jackets will be provided. Better to ask in advance, as even if they’re not to hand, the locals can usually find or borrow them from somewhere. When the river’s fast flowing after heavy rain, you’ll be glad to have that peace of mind. Rather than the balsa logs we were once given when they had no life jackets.
10. Get to know the locals
    Above all, take some time to get to know the locals, your boatmen and their families. They are the guardians of the river and the rain forest and their knowledge and culture will enhance your travels – my memories of trying fried winged ants at breakfast and hearing the stories of the river turtles in the stars will stay with me for ever.

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.

I was in Belize, a paid trip by the Belize board of Tourism and I’m slurping down ceviche and broiled lobster and wondering about ethics. You see the point that became clear for me, in a way that only $200/night hotel rooms and free samples of Aveda shampoo can crystallize—is that there are no writers paying for this out of pocket. I don’t dare to do that math, but a $1000 flight, $200+/night for 5 nights accommodations and 3 meals a day that included apps and dessert (yes even for lunch) plus non-stop activities, air and ground transfers from one end of the country to the other, I’d say we’re looking a $500/day budget. Easy.

The big debate about travel writing comes down to semantics. Can you be objective if someone else pays the bills? To which I ask: does it matter if the check is picked up by your publication or the tourism board? Because let’s not kid ourselves. The writers in any glossy travel mag aren’t staying at spa resorts out of pocket. Someone else is paying. Does it make a difference to the writer if a PR group pays or your boss? Not really. It’s still free. It’s still a luxury that you couldn’t afford on your own. Does it impact coverage? Absolutely. But not in the way you’d think. Most travel writers aren’t approaching the medium like a restaurant reviewer. They aren’t visiting a location to covertly judge and measure everything and produce at 1-5 star rating. It’s about the angle, the story, the bigger picture.

In short, the story is the bias. I didn’t write about where we stayed or what we ate, but rather about traveling pregnant and my take on authentic tourism in Belize. I brought my own agenda and my experiences were filtered through that lens, not necessarily the objectives of anyone who arranged the trip. What impact did the insertion of public relations into my travel have? Access. Seriously. Sure, they probably made sure that my hotel room was extra clean or that they were quick on the water refills at dinner but I don’t write about those things. The biggest difference to me, as an independent traveler, was getting to meet the chef at each restaurant. Spending time with tour guides who were willing to be pumped for information. Having an after dinner drink with the hotel owner. Finding the stories that interested me.

Is it the only way to write about travel? Absolutely not. I could have spent the entire time in Dangria, following Garifuna drummers around and trying to learn everything I could about the African influence on Belizean culture, for $20/day. I would have stayed in modest locations, spent time interviewing locals and picking up as much Creole as possible. That has value. But it was interesting to me that what some people have classified as unethical, i.e. receiving “freebies” and not paying for my travel out of pocket, actually opened me up to stories I wouldn’t have found otherwise.

It reminds me in a way of the age-old traveler vs. tourist argument, which is really about purity. On some levels I’m interested in that, the idea of the pure travel writer, gritty and determined to experience it all and report back in flowery detail. I want that ideal, but it gets in the way of itself. It romanticizes hardship and scorns comfort. It assesses value based on obscurity. It frowns on name brands. To me, it seems that sometimes a place is well known because it’s awesome. Sometimes the obscure mountain village isn’t charming but a hell-hole. If you’re fitting the “authentic” mold then you’re conforming as much as the guy writing 500-word travel filler about his last cruise.

There was one thing about this trip that made me really excited for the future. This was a group of bloggers. In some ways they didn’t know what to do with us, and having done this trip, I have lots of ideas of how we could have used our shared resources better. But we are online writers. We’re not on assignment. We’re Twittering and blogging and talking about Stumbleupon and HootSuite. I think it’s a very exciting development, and hopefully we can figure out how to make it work beyond replicating the print model and inserting the word “blogger” into the itinerary.

Did I mention I loved Belize? The only side effect is my inclination to work the phrase, “You better Belize It” into every conversation. Maybe they did unduly influence me. Or perhaps there was something in that last bite of key lime pie. Totally worth it.

I was lucky enough to have traveling parents as a child, parents who loved to see the world, no matter the cost. They took me to Seattle, England, to France, and to Japan, at an age when I was only beginning to appreciate these experiences. These travels made an impact on my life and made me choose travel – this meant interning at travel companies, writing about travel as much as I could, and spending much of my own free time and money moving around when it could have been spent elsewhere. I knew from a young age that traveling was something I had to do, always, forever, no matter what.

Since then, working at Lowfares and the more minor companies before it has been extremely rewarding. I have been to Singapore, China, New Zealand, India, South Africa, Canada, most of Europe, and deep into Brazil, whether to do travel writing, meet and discuss particulars with potential and current clients, or to go on vacation. Luckily, when I did much of my travels to other countries, I was able to write it off or use my industry connections to get discounts.

Despite this, being a travel professional isn’t always bright smiles and great experiences.

A constant, lingering loneliness can often carry with you on the road. You miss your family your friends, and even when you consider yourself a social butterfly, there is a definite disconnect from society when you approach a new friend with “Hello” and they respond with “Nee-hao!”.

My job as a travel professional has fluctuated, but through most of it, I have been a writer.

Unfortunately, this can accentuate the loneliness. When your predicament is great, you spend your time at home next to your kids, reflecting on what you’ve visited. When it’s good, you spend your time looking out at something beautiful you’ve never seen, typing. When it isn’t, you’re stuck in a dirty, mucky room with one English channel and no pictures, pounding on a laptop without an internet connection. Sometimes, this is for the best, as it can help you best reflect the murky reality of the slums of India, China and elsewhere. However, what sometimes makes for great writing also makes for an extremely depressed human being.

Takeoff is still nerve-racking, even after the 3,000th liftoff. No matter how much Superman says flying is still the safest way to travel, I don’t believe him. I’ve been through enough roller coaster flights and ridden with enough brain-dead pilots to believe otherwise.

I’ve realized that with travel, as it applies with everything, you can burn out. Travel 120 out of 160 days and you begin to wish that you didn’t have to do it so often, even if you love it. Travel is seen as a great thing because it is different, and it is different because we never do it. We have fun on Friday and Saturday nights most especially because it is such an infrequent event. If we had to drink every day for a week straight, you would most look forward to not doing the thing you loved doing so much.

But, just like that, when you take a break from the week straight of partying, you long for it again. I love travel, I just hate too much of it. The thing with being a travel professional is that sometimes you get too much.

Luckily, as I have moved onto Lowfares.com, my travel schedule has diminished and I have once again begun to enjoy waiting for baggage claim and experiencing two days of jet lag.

Really, the best bet for a travel professional is to choose your employer wisely – unfortunately, due to the high demand and small job market, few will have that luxury. Your best bet is to put in the work, become reputable, or just plain get lucky, and you will enjoy all the pluses – and so few of the minuses that come with traveling for a living.

–Ross Garnaut

Recent Comments

By Alan: Ross–couldn’t agree more with this post. I travel 5-6 months out of the year for my job, and as exotic as Turkmenistan, Syria, and Djibouti might sound to friends and family, you’re right, the nature of the situation can get a little fatiguing at times.

I think another problem that many business travelers have, especially when jettisoning to international locations, is staying motivated. After a long day of work traipsing around the city, I sometimes struggle between the comfortable confines of the hotel and doing some leisure exploring. You’re right, sometimes we can get “too much travel,” but if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that the itch, even though it’s being scratched frequently these days, will never go away 🙂

By Audrey: Although our travel/work situation is a bit different, there are certainly some similarities with what Ross wrote. I can certainly relate to trying to write an article or finish up photography editing in a dingy room with low light and a floor you’re afraid to touch with bare feet.

Anything you do too much of becomes tiring and can be a burden, even if that “thing” is usually a wonderful thing. We take breaks from regular travel – find a place to set up for a couple of weeks where we don’t do touristy things and just focus on work all day. This is necessary for projects (trying to fit in writing at the end of a day of hiking usually doesn’t work too well), but also for our sanity: to have some sense of stability for a period during our usually hectic schedule.

Other travelers often look at us as if we’re crazy – why come to Ecuador to work on your laptop all day? Sometimes they understand when we explain our work/travel situation; other times they don’t. Our lifestyle is not for everyone, just as many of theirs is not for us.

By Marina: It’s funny, before having my family, I always thought of having a job that takes you traveling all over the world. But you’re right, it’s lonely! It’s so nice to travel for the joy, rather than the work!

Now that travel is becoming part of my work, so that I can keep up with the destinations that I’m promoting, I always do it with my family. I don’t get paid for it directly, but from knowing the locations I’m visiting I’m capable of selling them better. However, I don’t know if I’d want it to be mandatory.

And I am sooooooooooooo with you! Air travel scares the sh*t out of me and I’ve put tons of air miles under my belt, and it just doesn’t ever get easier.

Thanks for this honest post. I think more people need to read the realities of life on the road for work!

By Angela: I understand where you come from, I travel a lot, but especially I don’t only visit a place, I settle for a couple of years. It’s weird, sometimes I feel unsettled and think I should stop somewhere and nevertheless I’m not able to decide to stop. I know where I want to live when I’ll stop, but it’s just not the time yet, so I live with a suitcase (two, actually), I stay two years, I make friends, I absorb the society hosting me for that time and then, once I get used to it, I leave.

I may feel lonely sometimes, but I socialize very quickly (thank god!) and I also like spending time by myself. Despite all this, I understand what you mean with your hating “too much travel”, and sometimes I wish I didn’t have such nomadic attitude!

By John Bardos: Frequent travel would be great for a year or two, but if you are traveling alone and staying only a short time in each destination, it would become too much. I guess even dream jobs get boring after a while.

By Kaitlin: Your right on the mark there Ross, travelling even though it seems like it should be different, is just like everything else.
Do it too much and no matter how much you love it, you just can’t help but want to stop and do anything else, even for a moment.
I get that way about writing a lot of the time, you know it’s great – you wouldn’t want to do anything else – but if I have to look at that blank screen one more time.
Thanks for the great post.

After all the recent news about the airlines, don’t you wish you didn’t have to fly at all? Or at least you didn’t have to actually pay to be treated like cattle? Me too.

I recently signed up to be an affiliate on for Chris Guillebeau’s website, the Art of Non-Conformity. I was digging around his ebooks and came across his newest one: Frequent Flyer Master. What piqued my interest (despite the name sounding a bit like something you’d see on a 2 AM infomerical) was that Chris was promising that anyone could gain enough frequent flyer miles to earn a free ticket (25,000 miles) by reading this ebook.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I had been thinking about my own frequent flyer status and how I should really get serious about my miles. The last time I even thought about my accounts was when, in a fit of frustration, I gave away all of my American Airlines miles to one lucky reader. But if it’s that easy to earn flights, maybe it’s time to dip my toe back in.

So I got a review copy. My first reaction: woah. Apparently, I have been doing it all wrong.

Without giving away too much, if you’re an active traveler and you pay for your flights– you’re doing it wrong too.

I started doing the math. If you made a few changes, took advantage of annual incentives by certain airlines and gained status with an airline or two (thereby increasing your per mile flown to per mile earned ratio), then I could see someone– especially a long term traveler or someone on a year abroad– racking in enough miles to fly dozens of times a year, absolutely free.

So why doesn’t Chris advertise this with his ebook? In part, I think he’s trying to undersell his product. But I also think he’s writing for a largely self-improvement, entrepreneurial, life-style redesign folks. He travels a lot, but his audience might not. For many of his readers, the idea of being able to bounce from LA to New Zealand to Thailand to Malaysia and back home again over a month is like, “so what?” If you’re not freed up to travel, the flight isn’t what’s holding you back. It’s vacation time or pets or family or a thousand other things.

But for travelers? It should be required reading. Not only do we fly enough to make getting free flights worth it, but we fly internationally. What fun is it to gain 300K miles if you don’t use it for a first class flight to Sydney? Or instead of buying that $5,000-$10,000 RTW ticket, you earn enough miles to get it for free?

The big catch? The ebook isn’t free.

Of course, most of the methods in his ebook are, and he’s bundled it with all of his other travel hack/airline type ebooks, so you get:

The Frequent Flyer Master: which tells you how FF programs work and how to hack them

The Travel Ninja: All about RTW tickets and long term travel
Surviving Travel in North America: Getting free access to lounge access, tricks to booking cheap flights etc

Using Priceline: Tips on how to get deals

2 audio tracks with questions and answers And a nifty excel spreadsheet all set up to track mileage, rewards, future trips, travel goals etc.

So there’s an incredible amount of value for $79. Which I know sounds like a lot. But, you have to do the math for yourself. Would getting a few free flights a year be worth it? Are you traveling now or planning to travel soon? Even if you only get one free ticket (which Chris has his famous money-back guarantee) then a ticket for $79 is a pretty good deal.

How will I use this new knowledge? First class tickets! I won’t be making as many short flights with the dogs, baby and husband in tow, but it would be very nice to have two 1st class tickets for our transatlantic flight this summer. That’s my goal over the next few months, and for $79, to me, that’s totally worth it.

If you’re planning a RTW trip, seriously, take a look at this ebook. If you have a little time, a little patience and know what you’re doing, I think, you could literally fly for free that whole year. If I was planning a similar trip, that’s exactly what I would do. Pool your money with other travelers and share this ebook, I won’t tell (just don’t tell Chris you heard it from me).

If you had 100,000 frequent flyer miles, where would you fly?