 |
|
I like to criticize technology’s effects on travel — how it can shut us off from both sight and sound, turn soul-searching into wi-fi searching, and funnel hours of exploration into the confines of a monitor. But today, the man in dark glasses reminded me how blogging can push you further into the analog world.
A few hours ago I was sweating in Varanasi with no idea what to write about. Sat down on a bench for chai, thinking it might kickstart the motor. The man above sat down, his glaucoma glasses shouting talk to me! Turned out he’s a sculptor, with the ripped up hands to prove it.
Do you want to come to my house and see my sculptures?
Groan — another seemingly friendly guy who wants to sell me something. And that voice in the head, “Is it safe?”
Normally I would decline such a sales-pitch reeking invitation, but I knew that as soon as I said OK, I’d have something to blog about.
I said OK.
Sure enough, he offered me a trio of terracotta gods for an outrageous price. But at no charge I got to see a striking bust of the founder of Banaras Hindu University, skulls and skinless legs sculpted for the U’s anatomy department, and a Buddha so real you felt obliged to include him in the conversation.
You could say it was all thanks to the man in the dark glasses, but really it’s thanks to this blog.
There’s a fine line here — doing something just to say you’ve done it gets old fast. But when you need to break out of a rut or want to push into a new level of engagement with a place, doing it for your readers can make a fast, rewarding impact on your experience.
Whether for a blog, a campfire, or plain old conversation — do you believe in doing something just for the story? Your perspective appreciated…
Age: 25
Home: Boston, MA
Quote: “Taking this trip is as much about seeing and doing things as it is proving to myself that I can do it.”
(more…)
Clean water is one of the major issues facing the developing world. As outsiders, vagabonds typically rely on bottled water in such areas, but plastic water bottles are a major contributor to disturbing things such as the Pacific’s trash island, to say nothing of the strain they put on local landfills.
The far better option — from an environmental point of view — is filtering tap water. But filtering water has its own set of drawbacks for travelers. Filters can clog over time and they’re heavy and bulky — most of them you wouldn’t want to lug around with you all day, which means you need to filter enough water ahead of time.
The alternative to filters are water purifiers, some of which are quite small and lightweight. SteriPEN, makers of a number of water purifiers were kind enough to send us the SteriPEN Adventurer Opti, a lightweight, compact UV filter, for testing.
The first thing to realize about the Adventurer is that it’s not designed to handle muddy or otherwise cloudy water. Because it doesn’t have a filter there’s no way to remove sediment or other impurities. However, it does zap microorganisms, destroying their DNA and making them unable to reproduce or cause illness.
The SteriPEN kills microbes, viruses, and bacteria — including the well-known likes of giardia and cryptosporidium — meaning that tap water from a faucet just about anywhere becomes drinkable. According to the company, the SteriPEN protects against diarrhea, dysentery, hepatitis, botulism, cholera, smallpox, typhoid fever and other common traveler ailments.
But the best part about the SteriPEN for vagabonds is that it’s lightweight and compact. At 3.6 oz. (with batteries) and little more than 5 inches long, the SteriPEN won’t weight you down and is even small enough to drop in your pocket for a day out and about. There’s a nice hard plastic cover that protects the UV light source and is secure enough that it’s unlikely to pop off in your pack.
Even better the SteriPEN is dead simple to use. You just stick the pen in water (I used a Nalgene water bottle — the wide mouth variety works much better); push the button to activate the UV light and stir the water until the indicator light turns green. Once the SteriPEN light is green your water is drinkable.
Filtering 1 liter of water takes about a minute and a half; a half liter takes just under a minute. There’s also a handy flashlight mode that turns the SteriPEN into a usable torch.
It’s a little disconcerting to use the SteriPEN if you’re accustomed to filtration systems since there’s really nothing to see here — all the santizing action happens in the UV spectrum. The SteriPEN does output visible light so you can tell that it’s working, but as with any filtration system there is some degree of faith. If you’re worried about the effectiveness you can relax, the EPA has endorsed UV light as an “effective disinfectant.”
On the whole, the SteriPEN is best option I’ve seen for filtering water on the road.
That said, there are a few drawbacks to the SteriPEN Adventurer. The first and most significant is price. At roughly $100 (at REI and other outdoor equipment dealers) the SteriPEN isn’t cheap. However, if you’re traveling for a year or more it’s definitely cheaper than buying bottled water the whole time. The UV light element will last for 8,000 Liters. Disposable batteries will get you 100 1-liter treatments, but curiously the rechargeable variety will only do 50-60 liters.
The other significant downside for vagabonds are the battery requirements. The SteriPEN uses two CR123 batteries, which are common in the west, but less so in other parts of the world. On the plus side there are rechargeable CR123 batteries and there’s even a solar charger (note that that link is for the Adventurer, not the Adventurer Opti which has a few extra features) available though it’ll set you back another $50.
The final shortcoming of the SteriPEN is that its not a water filter. If you’re planning on doing any trekking or hiking you might be better off with a filter to remove any impurities from stream water and the like. There are pre-filters available if you’re planning on using your SteriPEN for trekking.
Despite a few shortcomings the SteriPEN is a very capable, lightweight and easy to use way to avoid plastic water bottles on the road. If price isn’t an issue, I’d definitely recommend picking one up for your next trip.
The wonderful website Traveling For The Young, Fabulous, and Broke has an article entitled “The Motivation for Long Term Travel.” This interview series profiles 11 long-term travelers, and is packed full of useful, inspirational, or interesting links.
The most interesting part for me was the inclusion of children in this vagabonding lifestyle; when I was a kid, I was a kid with a single mom, and all my other friends were kids with single moms, and so it never occurred to me that other people might actually have TWO parents. Similarly, with all this talk of vagabonding for solo travelers or vagabonding for couples, we forget that kids can go vagabonding too…or that vagabonders can conceive and give birth abroad! While it might open you up to some interesting legal issues (where is your child a citizen of? where do you get their birth certificate or passport issued from? what about places where home schooling is illegal, like france? what about health insurance?), it’s still out there.
Obviously I know there are some well-known vagabonding families, but it’s just nice to see more. And obviously, nice to see more websites, resources, and profiles of totally nice, friendly, normal people to keep us happy in our vagabonding path.
Ever find yourself wandering the local food stalls while you’re traveling and catching a whiff of something delicious? Perhaps you stand, drooling and hypnotized, gawking at, well…who knows what exactly? Do you ever find yourself eying the local cuisine and thinking, “Hmm, that looks good; what is that?”
One great part of travel is the experience of new foods. My philosophy is to just dive in – who cares what it is – and sample the local eats. But for those of you who need a little more information first, let’s take a look at a few location-specific traditions to perhaps let you know what you’re in for when visiting that area.
Olives – Nearly everywhere you go in Morocco, plates of olives are set out as something of an appetizer before meals. Morocco is a large producer of olive oil, and vast arrays of different olives are grown throughout the country. Usually a kaleidoscope of colorful olives, marinated in lemon, cilantro and peppers, will be set before you as your meal is being prepared.
Khobz – These round flat loaves of bread are served with your meal in Morocco. They are crusty and firm on the outside, and warm and porous on the inside. Dip chunks of them in your soup, sop up your tagine with them, or just munch on one from the many carts that wheel by.
Tagine – Tagine is essentially a Moroccan stew. Carrots, potatoes, squash, onions, and a million other vegetables and spices are thrown in together with chicken or lamb and cooked slowly. The result is a blazing hot dish of tender meat and soft vegetables. The whole concoction is made on the stove top in a tagine dish. The word “tagine” refers not only to the delicious stew, but also to the typical conical dish it is served in. Tagine is one of the most standard Moroccan dishes, and can be found in hundreds of variations
Couscous – Couscous abounds in Morocco! You will have this dish so much you will surely sicken of it. Couscous is a grain of tiny rolled semolina wheat balls. Moroccan couscous is cooked in a broth and usually served on a bed of steamed vegetables and raisins.
Lamb – This one deserves its own category. While you can order kebab, couscous, kefta, or tagine with lamb, you will be unable to ignore the rows and rows of food stalls lined with lamb heads. The cheek meat is said to be the most tender, and it is often served on a plate as an appetizer.
Drink – Sorry boozy backpackers, Morocco is alcohol free. Sure, you may be able to find a few spirits at expensive resort-like accommodations or through a friend of a friend who knows a friend who will serve to foreigners. But you’ll definitely have to go searching for it.
In the meantime, wrap your lips around a steaming glass of Moroccan mint tea. Or try the amazing fresh squeezed orange juice from the juice stalls.
Not long ago I heard from a reader named Zach, who was newly married and headed to Seoul to teach English with his wife. He asked me for advice on how to make the transition to expat-teacher life in Korea. Since it’s been 12 years now since I’ve lived in Korea, my advice to him was brief and itemized:
- Find a language institute that is well-liked, where the teachers are happy (you can check around about this).
- Enjoy the food — it’s some of the best in the world, in my opinion — and be gastronomically daring.
- Learn Hangul, the Korean alphabet, as soon as you can after arriving. It’s as simple as learning a secret code for each sound; you can easily pick up the alphabet in a week, and some people have learned it in an afternoon. Practice on street signs. Once you can read Hangul, it will be easier to get around, even if you don’t always know what the words refer to.
- Start learning the language by learning pleasantries and other traveler phrases (you may never be fluent — I’m not — but a familiarity with the language is helpful).
- Make Korean friends (of all ages). Make expat friends too.
- Don’t drink too much (always a danger in that country), but definitely don’t be shy to embrace social drinking as a way of socializing with students and friends alike.
- Exercise regularly (and find a place in the city where it’s not too smoggy or crowded for exercise).
- Korea can be a tough place to work sometimes, but stay positive, and don’t fall in with whiny expats.
- Power through the tough times. One way to do this is to read a lot — guidebooks and novels about Korea, as well as those classics (War and Peace, Moby Dick, etc) you’ve always been putting off.
- Take weekend trips to other parts of Korea.
- Take holiday trips to other parts of Asia.
- Keep a journal.
Can anyone with Korea-based (or general Asian) expat experience add more tips to this list?
We all have different souvenir styles. Some focus on shot glasses, others on local crafts, and some folks shop for home electronics or clothing while on vacation. There are travelers who prefer unconventional mementos, like recorded music, rubbings, or even words. And plenty of people follow the advice: “Take only pictures, leave only footprints.”
My souvenir preferences have changed considerably over the years. When I first began to travel, I brought home rocks and shells as well as things I bought in stores that reminded me of my vacation. As I grew older and my suitcase shrunk, I chose to bring home only small items I liked that were made in the community I was visiting. Now, I add in the occasional food or drink item, such as truffles from Istria, tequila from Jalisco, or rum from Cuba. Usually, I just load up on photos and the occasional small item that’s a perfect reminder of the time I spent in a particular destination.
We may all have different preferences, but there are ways to be responsible in choosing what we bring home. Ethical travel advocates (such as Ethical Traveler) remind us to bargain fairly with respect for the seller and to be aware of where our money is going—with the intent on keeping cash within the local economy. The International Fund for Animal Welfare cautions against purchasing wildlife souvenirs, especially products from endangered animals. And Conservation International says that refusing to buy marine ornamental souvenirs (like coral jewelry, shells or sea stars) can help prevent the removal of key components of marine ecosystems for short-term gain.
What’s your favorite souvenir, and what memory does it evoke?
Working with the Chinese. Photo: VTZ International, a consulting firm.
More expats are moving to China, attracted by business opportunities and hopes of advancing their careers. Working with locals can be tricky, as illustrated by this article from ShanghaiExpat.com: Culture Clash: Foreign Workers in China.
The Chinese have a saying that captures this challenge neatly: “same bed, different dreams.” Western expats might have goals like accessing a new market and increasing profits. Their Chinese colleagues, on the other hand, might have have far different goals. Examples could be learning trade secrets to start their own business, increasing China’s prestige, or maybe eventual relocation to a Western country.
The idea of what is most important can be vastly different. Your Chinese partner may want to ask about your life, discuss your family, etc. before getting down to business. The Chinese businessperson would consider this essential to building a personal relationship. An American businessperson might view this small talk as a waste of time and get impatient to start talking about the deal at hand. When doing business in Asia, relationships are paramount. However, in the West–particularly America–results take more prominence.
Have you worked in China or elsewhere in Asia? What were your experiences when working with locals? Please share your stories and advice.
Cairo, Egypt
Stability and control: that’s the role of an aircraft spoiler. As your jet prepares to land, the spoiler may rise to decrease lift, increasing the rate at which the aircraft descends or slowing the speed of the aircraft down. The Wright brothers would have been impressed.
For the long-term traveler, however, the spoiler, when viewed through a window, can represent the very opposite: instability and a lack of control. As you watch it rise and then feel the aircraft slow, you know your journey is moments away, which is to say that your voluntary letting go of a certain amount of stability and control (this is part of what it means to travel) is about to become very real. Of course, part of the joy and excitement of travel is precisely this letting go.
But it can also be part of the pain.
I took this picture last week as I began what may be a five or six-month trip to the Middle East to photograph and work on a couple story ideas. My vagabonding these days is work related, and it is often full of both pain and joy, depending on where I’m at and what I’m witnessing. But I’ve noticed as i’ve gotten older that no matter where I’m going, I leave home not only with a sense of anticipation (though to be honest i don’t always feel much anticipation when I’m on the plane), I also leave with a sadness. The sadness is rooted in all that I’m leaving behind, and the things that will change without me while I’m gone — birth, death, and relationships to name a few. This is part of why during the first few days of an extended journey I often feel depresssed, a kindred spirit with Tom Hanks as he finds himself on that deserted island in Castaway. If you’re gone too long too often, you may struggle with identity.
And so when that spoiler raises and I put my seat back into the upright position, I ask the question: When might long-term travel, at least to the solo traveler, become a detriment to life more than an asset? I will always be an ardent proponent of long-term journeys. I’ll also, however, always be honest, and tell you that they can come at a real cost.
As always, your own thoughts and experiences are very welcomed in the comment section.
Carl Hoffman’s latest book, ‘The Lunatic Express: Discovering the World via its most dangerous Buses, Boats, Trains, and Planes‘ was the perfect reading companion during my recent trip to Haiti. As I followed Carl on a bus through the Andes to Puerto Maldonado, or a train from Kenya to Uganda, or a ferry through Bangladesh, I myself was commuting about Port-au-Prince on the backs of motorcycle taxis who weaved in and around traffic, and stuffing myself into crowded tap-taps, fabulously decorated pickup trucks with seating in the back.
A thoroughly engaging read, Hoffman plays a game of odds, seeking out the world’s riskiest conveyances. He is drawn to routes where ships sink regularly, buses careen off of cliffs, and trains which kill people daily. However, he notes that “though slow and statistically dangerous, travel at this level was as cheap and available as bread,” and he wanted “to experience travel not as a holiday, but as it is for most people a simple daily act of moving from one place to another [..] for whom travel was still a punishing, unpredictable, and sometimes deadly work of travail.”
Through countless such observations, Carl opens our eyes along with his as he finds the true value of the world’s mass transit systems, traveling hundreds of miles for a few dollars a day, and connecting with fellow commuters who refused to let him buy his own meals despite the fact that they would be much poorer than he. In fact, the worst experience in his around-the-world excursion was on his last leg home, via our very own Greyhound buses from Los Angeles to Washington, DC. He discovered a generosity of communal spirit that exists in all corners of the world except our own. It was on an Indonesian ferry that he realized “the more I give myself to the world, the more I made myself vulnerable by putting myself completely at the disposal of people and situations in which I had no control, the more people took care of me, looked out for me.” Except, of course, for right here at home.
While Hoffman’s tale shows us a colorful and grunge-filled world of conveyances and the characters who ride them, the underlying journey is an inward one. “For twenty years I had been a stable husband and father, and then I’d snapped. My life suddenly didn’t seem to fit anymore.” Through his self-analysis, Carl highlights something far more likely than dying on a train in Mumbai – how the intoxicating lure of exotic travel can impact one’s family. As a travel journalist volunteering in Haiti, camping underneath a manned guard tower of the U.N. and surrounded by the rubble of a collapsed nation for two weeks, I was acutely aware of my wife back at home, studying for finals without my usual help and support. Like Hoffman, I felt the excitement of being someplace new, someplace a little risky, and knew that I could stay indefinitely, that I wanted more. Given the opportunity, the temptation to travel far and wide and for long periods of time, to dive deep into cultures across the world, is what excites an explorer such as myself, but he reminds us that there is a price. The relationships created with all of the amazing people one meets while traveling, no matter how intense the connection, is by nature fleeting. Our families are the relationships that sustain us, give our hearts home and comfort, and for vagabonds, that is a struggle we must always be mindful of.
The Lunatic Express is currently available in hardcover through Amazon, and softcover should be available soon.
