Booking three weeks of European travel (on a budget) is a daunting task. One could spend an eternity burning the midnight oil on hostel aggregators, in a desperate search for half decent dorm bedrooms that (according to my recent searches) can run you 50-60 euro a night. 60 euro for a dorm bed? Not on this budget!

And then I found Airbnb, the short term accommodation rental site that matches renters and rentees, all independent from professional hoteliers. It’s based on house sharing, not hostel booking, and I just finished reserving private apartments for a 3 week brother/sister jaunt through Paris, Bruges and Amsterdam. The rentals cost around 20 Euros less than the hip hostels in town, and while we won’t be part of late night backpacker comeraderie, I’m more than happy to give this airbnb model a chance.  Coming home to a bohemian Parisian flat, a modern Dutch houseboat and a rustic Bruges farmhouse after long days of exploration will be welcome changes from dorm life. While some of my most treasured travel memories have been spent in hostels, I’m eager to discover whether Airbnb will make travel to expensive cities more affordable and, dare I say it, more enriching?

I did a bit more research about the house-sharing company and learn that Airbnb has over a million renters and hosts. We’re talking houses, apartments, villas, yachts, igloos, and even a treehouse or two. Headquartered in San Francisco, it was recently listed among the “next generation of multi billion dollar startups” by the New York Times.

The men behind the movement. Photo from Forbes

I’m thrilled to experience 3 weeks of apartment hopping, but not everyone is happy with the site’s incredible popularity. In 2011 they made $500 million, charging a 6-12% commission on each rental. People are asking: is it legal to rent out apartments for less than 30 days? Should airbnb start paying the same tourism taxes as big hotel chains? Is opening your home to strangers (and staying in the home of one) guaranteed to be safe?

The company is only a few years old, but founder Brian Chesky sees an enormous future ahead. He thinks of Airbnb as a “movement rather than a company.” The site “invites users to a time when hitchhiking wasn’t dangerous – when it was just fine to share anything with strangers because no one was all that strange.” I’ll be testing the waters in the next few weeks and let you know how it goes. When looking for accommodations, which sites do you use? Are you a hotel booker? A couch surfer? An Airbnber?

Original article can be found here: Airbnb: A better bet than hostel hopping?

I spent three years cycling from Alaska to Argentina with my husband and children. Our twin sons were ten years old when we left Alaska.

There was an interesting discussion on a cycling forum I visit from time to time. A man responded to a blog post I had written about cycling to the ends of the world with my children. “I just don’t see how subjecting kids to this odyssey of self-discovery or whatever it was could possibly benefit them in the long run,” he wrote. “That’s just irresponsible.”

He went on to say, “I always viewed [your journey] as risking almost certain disaster every day, for a prolonged period of time. A really unacceptable level of risk.”

It’s funny – I never considered that we were facing “almost certain disaster.”  Certainly not every day and certainly not for prolonged periods of time.  I felt our journey was entirely an acceptable level of risk.

Not only did I feel our journey from Alaska to Argentina was not particularly dangerous or risky, I felt it was an awesome way for my children to live their childhood years.  I felt the benefits they would gain from a cycling/traveling lifestyle outweighed whatever negatives they would lose.

For every choice we make in life, we opt out of something else. Sometimes those decisions are easy; sometimes they are hard. There are advantages and disadvantages to each of those choices. In the end, we have to make a decision. We have to choose for one and against another. That’s just the way it is.

We could have chosen to stay in Idaho and the boys would have played on soccer teams and swam on swim teams. They would have eaten lunch in the school cafeteria and ridden the bus to school and raced outside to play tether ball at recess. They would have had sleepovers and played video games with friends. They would have been part of chess club and boy scouts.

Those things aren’t bad.

Or we could, and did, take off and travel the world and allow the boys to climb on Mayan pyramids and Incan temples. They could swim with sea lions and scuba dive with turtles. Fly over the Nazca Lines, see the mysterious Ica Stones and conehead skulls, see ships rise and fall in the Panama Canal.

They could see real life penguins and guanacos and rheas and armadillos and foxes and bison and musk ox and big horn sheep and reindeer and iguanas in their natural habitats. They could stay with indigenous families in the Bolivian highlands and with migrant workers in Mexico. They could go sand surfing and real surfing. They could eat lomo saltado and carne asado and drink mate.

But those things came at a price.

Everything comes at a price. Whenever we choose TO DO something, we choose NOT TO DO something else. The trick is to choose wisely and spend our time doing the things that will most benefit us.

In the end we feel that, overall, our choice was the right one. Our sons have amazing life experiences that will benefit them tremendously throughout life. The important thing is that they grow up into capable human beings who can contribute to society – and that is exactly what we feel they will do.

As our discussion progressed, this man chimed in again. “Your “risk-reward” meter is calibrated much differently than most people’s are. Again, I say you took on a really, really risky venture, and got through it without anything catastrophic. My risk-reward meter says that you were probably really, really lucky.”

I love that idea – the risk-reward meter. We each calibrate our meter based on our life experiences. We see those things we know and feel comfortable with closer to the reward end of the meter. The unknown, and therefore scary, things get placed at the risky end. My meter looks completely different from yours.

I would feel extremely uncomfortable if one of my boys decided he wanted to play American football. Ouch – talk about risky! I had twelve-year-old students that RACED on dirt bikes – like motorized motorcycle things that go a bajillion miles an hour? Gads – that scares the bejeezus outta me! I’ve also had elementary school kids who hunted with guns – you know those metal things that go *kaboom* and can kill people. And animals?  Yeah those.

Those items are definitely on the risky end of my meter.

And yet I don’t judge those parents because I know that, according to their risk-reward meter, what the kids were doing was fine and the parents had taught them to be safe. I’m OK with that. I may say something like, “That is something I would never want to do, but good for you for allowing your kids to get out and experience life!”

My newfound ‘friend’ came back to the discussion one more time. “The fundamental issue is that your process of identifying and evaluating risks is quite different from mine.”

Is it really? Or are we both basing our evaluations on our own life experiences?  I would be willing to bet that Mario Andretti or Anderson Cooper’s risk-reward meters would look vastly different from mine.

And his.

Is my risk-reward meter more valid than yours? Is yours more accurate than mine? Does the fact that I encourage my kids to ride their bikes make me an irresponsible parent? Does the fact that your child plays American football show your judgment to be faulty?

We all see the world through glasses tinted by our experiences – and that’s not a bad thing.  I won’t judge you for the decisions you make, and I ask that you not judge me for mine.  Our decisions are both equally as valid – but are based on different risk-reward meters.

What would fail miserably on your own risk-reward meter that others wouldn’t think twice about?

Nancy Sathre-Vogel is mom to Family on Bikes, a family of four who recently rode their bikes 17,000 miles from Alaska to Argentina. She blogs about lessons learned from their journey at www.familyonbikes.org

Original article can be found here: How have you calibrated your risk/reward meter?

Girl wearing sunglasses. Photo: Helga Weber / Flickr

When it comes to the vagabonding life, you’re quite literally going on the path not taken by most people.  As we get older, sometimes the itch to answer the question “what if?” becomes more urgent.

Although not strictly related to travel, this GQ magazine article got me thinking: Eric Puchner finds the cooler version of himself.

On the surface, it seems like an impossible mission. Puchner surveyed his friends with one question: “Do you know someone who could have been me, but cooler?”

An excerpt from the piece explains his motivation:

Lately, though, perhaps because at age 41 I’d begun feeling less like the captain of my life and more like its deckhand, I’d started wondering if there was someone out there who embodies not your worst self, but your freest one—a person who encapsulates everything you’ve ever dreamed of becoming. Let’s call him your Cooler Self. All those dreams that got lost along the way, the ones that were casualties of chance or duty or cowardice: There’s a “you” out there—a mountain climber or war photographer or race-car driver—who brought them to fruition.

The ironic thing is that a “happy ending” would have been sad.  He mentions having a bit of dread over the outcome of his search.  What if he found someone who was living an awesome life that he could have had?  If only he’d taken more risks, not given up sooner, the doubts would pile up on each other.

Getting back to vagabonding, it’s about making that choice to live the life you want much sooner.  This can avoid the fountain of regret that can erupt later on in a mid-life crisis.

Upon reading that article, I couldn’t help but think of the reverse question: what would you have been like if you hadn’t traveled?  The longer you live abroad, the more acutely you realize what you’ve given up.  Have you reflected on things like this?  Please share your thoughts in the comments.

Original article can be found here: Is travel deciding to be the “cooler” you?

“Professor James Petrick of Texas A&M, who focuses on psychology and marketing and their application to tourism, has studied when tourists return to destinations or hotels they’ve visited before. Like many in the field, he believes meeting expectations is a key factor. The take-away for travelers: don’t idealize the places you’re visiting and you’ll be much happier in the end. In an interview, Professor Petrick said that one way we can do that is to distinguish between “organic” and “induced” images of a place. In other words, if travelers can discern what a beach destination or a hotel room really looks like (rather than being suckered by a misleading ad campaign or Web site), they will be much happier in the end — a call for us to look carefully for honest photos and unbiased information.”
–Seth Kugel, “Travel Lessons From the World of Academia,” New York Times, Dec. 12, 2011

Original article can be found here: You’ll be a happier traveler if you don’t idealize the places you visit

(Border, SD)

“Wait – you’re moving where?”

CP: “South Dakota”

“Why would you ever move there?”

CP: “Well…”

Cost/day: ~$30/day (food / gas / fun)

What’s the strangest thing you’ve seen lately?

When I turned off the Interstate and into Rapid City, I saw (and promptly ignored) a speed limit sign stating 25 mph. Seconds later, I was braking to avoid rear-ending a Chevy truck. Just as I was about to move into the other lane, I noticed that everyone was driving 20mph. Everyone! And there were no police cars present! That’s when I knew this would be different…

Describe a typical day:

I get up, fix myself some eggs and an espresso, then sit on the small deck to enjoy the view.

(Rapid City, SD)

Afterward, I make a rough plan of attack for the day and (try to) get the most important thing done. Then I tackle the kettlebells for a bit and have some lunch. After that I get out and go exploring. There are so many things that I don’t yet know about Rapid City, that this may involve finding a new place to buy fresh vegetables and butchered meat — or instead, I may head up into the Black Hills for hiking and take the dirt bike out for a trail ride. (BTW – the Black Hills are absolutely breathtaking.)

(Needles in the Black Hills, SD)

When I get back – I tackle all of the work I need to get done, which usually involves being locked in front of a laptop for several hours. Afterward, I head out to grab dinner and try to strike up a conversation to two. When I get home, I lock myself in the shop and work on one of my projects — currently building a Jeepspeed desert racer, since I  have delusions of tackling the Baja 1000.

Sometime late, I come back in and try to get a little writing done. Eventually I crash and do it all over again.

It’s not the most exciting life, but it is how I recharge. I’m finding that South Dakota is that little oasis of serenity which helps me prepare for each new trip or business venture.

Describe an interesting conversation you had with a local:

I’ve had a few conversations, but the one thing that sticks out is the speed at which everyone talks. Admittedly, I normally talk at a fast clip. When I get excited, I can ramble on faster than a Chihuahua on Red Bull. Now, I find myself intentionally slowing down and often omitting full sections of a story, simply because it will take too long to share. Less is more.

What do you like about where you are? Dislike?

When I lay down at night, I absolutely love the silence. You know that total silence where your ears ring a bit? Something about that allows me to simply let go and completely fade out for a few hours.

While I enjoy the tranquility and slower pace of life, I also want access to cities. Rapid City is only a few miles away and has some great amenities – a good theatre, great restaurants and a fantastic watering hole (the Firehouse Brewing Company).

(Rapid City, SD)

Plus there are a few surprises to be found while exploring the town.

(Graffiti Alley in Rapid City, SD)

I’m 2 miles away from an Interstate and only 15 minutes away from the airport. The only minor dislike is that flights into and out of RAP are more expensive and I need to route through Denver or Chicago. All-in-all, a small price in light of all of the benefits.

Describe a challenge you faced:

Internet connectivity. I just recently moved to a 25mbit connection (upstream and downstream) before I left Philadelphia. While Rapid City has great fiber connectivity (the best in the region) – I’m a few miles outside of town, so I have… nothing. Well – not exactly nothing, but my choices are limited to satellite providers, so we’re talking 2mbit down / 300kbit up and a 450mb limit. Four hundred and fifty megabytes per month? I can blow through that in minutes! Luckily the Verizon LTE coverage in Rapid City is amazing (better than Philadelphia) and I’m able to use it to keep up with my business.

In the end, it forces me to be more particular about what I do online and encourages me to get out into the real world. Once I acclimate, I’m sure I will be better off.

What new lesson did you learn?

At this point in my life, I needed to return to my roots. I was born in Montana and spent 6 year in New Mexico. I simply miss the West and this is the right place for me right now — allowing me to recharge while being the perfect base-of-operations for some incredibly cool adventures that are coming up.

Where next?

For the next month or two, I’m simply settling in and exploring South Dakota. I am, however, planning one of the longest trips I’ve ever taken – which will carry me through Asia and Australia later this year (fingers crossed). More on that later – until then, I’m going to soak up this slower-paced lifestyle.

Original article can be found here: Vagabonding Field Reports: Moving to South Dakota. Wait.. Where?

Bento lunch boxes at a supermarket

Once upon a time in Okinawa people were so healthy and happy that many of them lived more than one hundred years. The legend says it was because of their special diet, the very active lifestyle (Okinawa is the motherland of Karate) and the strong sense of community that keep everyone together. Still today Okinawa enjoys not only the highest life expectancy but the world’s longest health expectancy. I came here to find out why.

Cost/day
3000 yen (37$) Sleeping was 1000 yen a night, eating little less than 1000 yen, extras 1000 yen.

What’s the strangest thing you’ve seen lately?
Lunch pack culture. Perhaps you have heard about Bento Box, but if you have never been in Japan you may not expect that in any Supermarket or the many Convenience stores that pops out everywhere, you can find such a great selection of just “cooked and packed” food. As much as I like cooking, there is little point in prepare your meal when you have so many yummy options available.
It is also cheaper in most cases to buy a pre cooked meal than cooking, especially in late hours, when the price is heavily discounted because otherwise the day after it will be just thrown away. And remember: the safety standards are probably the highest in the world.

Describe a typical day:

I spent more than two weeks exploring Naha and surroundings, with particular attention to markets and neighborhoods where I could find a traditional living. Unfortunately the island has changed so much in the last years, that new generations of Okinawan are struggling to keep the healthy habits of their ancestors. Except for North of the island (which I have not been yet) everything is now overbuilt like the rest of Japan. And with the addition big of american military bases, Okinawa youngster “enjoy” plenty of american fast foods.

It is said Naha has a great nightlife, but after dark I’ve always been quiet in my guesthouse, working on the computer and chatting with other guests.

TreeHouse Restaurant in Naha, Okinawa

The hostel where I stayed was packed with longterm Japan residents. I had impression that they all escaped from mainland Japan and a society too demanding, but in my eyes they looked or gassed out or unable to slow down. In fact, some of them were just vegetating, leaving their dorm cubicle just for eating and smoking or watching tv.

Others, like the volunteers staff, where keep working huge hours. There was a guy who was working 5 night shifts a week in a convenience store, or Mittsu, that not only had to give 24 hours a week in the guesthouse to get a free dorm, she was working 3 hours a day in a café to pay nothing more than her meals and little extras.. So, I asked, did you came to Okinawa to relax? Yes..what am I doing? She wondered perplexed to herself before looking at me.

What do you like about where you are? Dislike?

I liked that after all Okinawa retains a relaxed vibe. The place has still a feeling of unicity, a mix of cultures you wont’ find everywhere.

I disliked that while for the moment the Japanization and Americanization of Okinawa gave to this place more diversity, the changing is happening too fast and I wonder how much of Okinawan fantastic culture can survive.

Can this little kid become another Okinawa Centenarian?

Describe a challenge you faced:

One day in my guesthouse I met Jup Brown, a New Zealander who is living on and off Japan for 18 years. He told me the next day he was going to start S-Miling. In other words he was up to running the whole country for charity: 4200km in 90 days, and he wanted some company. So I decided to join him for two consecutive days. I run (33+40) 73 km. Ok, lots of walking too, but still, it’s almost the distance of a Marathon and with no preparation. It was a great, fun experience and less painful than expected.

What new lesson did you learn?

A lesson I need to learn again and again: manage your expectations. Okinawa turned out to be a different place from the mental image I had formed before come here. I arrived to experience the lifestyle of his many centenarians, but even more than the language barrier, the main obstacle was the big changes occurred in the last years. I don’t think it’s possible not having expectations at all, but we need to be ready to put them apart, especially when you are on the road and want to experience a new culture.

Where next?

After more than 3 weeks in Japan I still feel not able to tune in with the country. My main obstacles so far have been the language barrier and my expectations. So I need to find a quiet place where study Japanese, relax and experience the countryside. When I realized the 80km bus ride to the North of Okinawa, where I couldn’t find any cheap accommodation, cost me almost the same money of the 300km flight to the island of Miyako in the South, famous for the best beaches in the country, my choice was easily made.

Original article can be found here: Vagabonding field reports: Once Upon a Time in Okinawa

Want a cool $10,000 to fund your craziest travel idea? Outside is seeking proposals for its first-ever adventure travel grant. From the website:

Examples of the kinds of audacious missions we’re looking for—taken from Outside stories—include sailing a homemade raft down the Hudson River, walking a perfectly straight line across Canada’s Prince Edward Island, and paddling a canoe from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine. Fill out the submission form below by May 18.

Looking for other places to fund your adventure travel ideas? The Timmissartok Foundation offers small grants “to assist individuals with adventurous projects that will take place in a foreign country” and is now accepting applications for 2012. You can also check out the Explorers Club, which provides a variety of grants in support of exploration and scientific research to both members and non-members.  And, of course, there is National Geographic, which offers highly coveted (and highly competitive) grants through its Expeditions Council.

Finally, if you’re looking for a bit of inspiration, this week the National Geographic Adventure Blog compiled a list of “dream trips” from some of the world’s top athletes. Happy (adventure) travels!

Original article can be found here: Grants for Adventure Travel

Let’s face it, finding time and discipline to write well on the road can be really, really tough. Traveling takes a lot of mental stamina. At the end of a long day, once you’ve found a dinner and settled into the hostel, the last thing you have the mental juice for is thoughtful writing about the day’s events. At that point, your brain doesn’t want to process or reflect. It wants to rest. It’s checked out for the night.

But I try to force myself to journal every night on my travels. I’ve got bags full of bits and pieces from my travels sitting in my closet, but the most important physical souvenirs are the small, leather-bound journals that gather dust on a bookshelf. The journals—weathered and worn—contain the thoughts and impressions of places and experiences recorded in the moment. Some entries are shallow and quickly scribbled; some are well-thought out and insightful.

Most travelers will tell you the same thing; their journals are frayed little time capsules of emotions and experiences they wouldn’t part with for the world. Sometimes they’re written on a rickety milk run train in the countryside, sometimes they’re written while perched on a rock high in the Alps while cowbells jangle in the distance. Sometimes the entries are well-crafted insights inspired while sitting in a soaring cathedral during evensong; other times they’re scribbled late at night while the eyelids are forcing themselves closed and the synapses are shot.

It takes discipline to keep up a journal on the road, but it’s well worth it. We’ll return to the smudged pages at some point in the future and be reminded of a vivid memory, surprising impression, or fleeting thought. And we’ll be glad we had the discipline to stop and record it, even when the train ride was bumpy and the eye lids were heavy.

Pick up that pen, open the book and record a memory to cherish.

Original article can be found here: Journaling on the Road

As I was sitting in Patan’s Durbar Square a few weeks ago, I noticed a couple elder tourists escorted by a guide: they were taking pictures, bending into unnatural shapes. The DSLR cameras they were shooting with looked like some sort of futuristic gear they could barely handle. They seemed quite clumsy and out of place, as they had been cut out from a lifestyle magazine and pasted into another wrong centerfold.

Instantly, I was reminded of the persistent, conservative way of thinking I was pushed to accept back home: before you may travel and enjoy your life, you will have to work a day job and bend your spine behind a desk for 30 years. Kow-tow to the Gods of corporate business. Enjoy the rat race. Then, maybe, you will be able to travel and see the world on a pension.

With a smack of teenage angst, I would promptly reply: “Cool. See the world, on a wheelchair?”

Seeing those tourists made me think that the way I travel in Asia now may not be replicable in about 30 years. Who would be able to take that umpteenth bone melting night bus ride after hitting the 50 years old line? Who would be able to enjoy the tastes and smells of an Indian public bus crammed to the roof with humans and sometimes cattle? And ultimately, who would have the strength to travel slow, soak into a culture or trying to fit into the holes left by mass tourism?

Certainly, not the average Old Joe.  Let’s face it: the older you get, the lesser you would be likely to travel hard, especially when you have not been used to it as a young man. And furthermore, when the kind of world we live in constantly conceives travelling as a recreational activity that cannot be taken as a lifestyle, or not even as a part-time occupation.

Me with two "Incredible Old Joes": Ibrahim and Saida from Spain. (Picture by Kit Yeng Chan 2012)

Nevertheless, it is quite a contrast – and a funny one – to observe the travelling habits of many older people, some at their very first foray oversea. It appears that so many years spent leading organized, normal lives have not been able to gift these people with a natural inclination to feel relaxed in foreign places. It seems like their movements are harder, slower, filled with the atavist fear of the unknown. They attempt to do what they may have dreamed for many years, but they are doing it with a total regret of having left their comfort zones.

But let me say that I have also met some “Incredible Old Joes”: some were biking from Europe to South East Asia, or doing the same route by walking. Some decided to avoid taking any bus ride longer than 2 hours, to stress less, and see more of the countries they visited.  All of them, however, had a common feature: they had been travelling a lot in their younger days. You could clearly see how travelling had enriched their souls… these people may have also been grinding at the office, but oh boy, how freer they were than any of my friends’ –and my own – parents!! I could sit in awe for hours just listening to their life stories.

As much as the mode of travel we use will most likely change or evolve overtime, it appears that to do it with ease we better start young. It surely does not matter how young; but that attitude needs to be embraced early in life, in order not to appear lost in a foreign square taking a bunch of pictures later. In order to actually fit in the broader World, and not be forced to end up lonely on a couch, hypno-entertained by a flat Tv screen.

Have you ever met some experienced older travellers, and do you agree with me? How do they compare to your own older folks at home?  I would like to hear some stories.

Original article can be found here: Want to travel? Wait until you are old

father time pointing to date 12th January on astronomical clock

On the left, just inside the main door of the Lund Cathedral is a wooden astronomical clock built around 1424. Tangled within a euphoric stare five years earlier, I’d marveled at the intricate details, inhaled the aged wood, and relished the silence which filled the air. The experience rooted such a vivid impression that I’d vowed to return. But expectations were paused as my two friends and I walked in to find the clock being cleaned; all its guts taken apart. Two enormous posters illustrating the clocks face blocked the space where workers placed a table with paint brushes and other tools.

My Dutch friend looking at the astronomical clock

The night before we all went to Lund, I’d expected to perhaps feel the same bliss again in those sandstone walls. Maybe I’d even find the little used book store diagonally across the way with the half-dozen stuffed owls perched on the top shelves. Neither was the same. The clock was in pieces, and the book store gone. But somehow I didn’t feel disappointed, just pensive. And ended up discovering a small tucked away surface where an open book, pen and flickering candle sat. The sign beside said in English (and Swedish), “Do you want to share your prayers with others? Please feel free to write them down in this Book of Intercessions. The book is placed on the altar of the Baptism Chapel during The Service of the Holy communion every Tuesday morning at 08.00 am.” I’m not distinctly religious, but decided to write a prayer in the book.

My written prayer in the Book of Intercessions

My return expectations were very different from the reality of being there the second time. Have you ever felt so moved, even years after, to return to a place? What did you find?

Original article can be found here: Return trip expectations