Here’s my high-tech, 100-percent guaranteed method of keeping creepy crawlies out of my clothes and shoes while in the jungle.
A ginormous Ziplock — Amazon-sized for freakishly huge Amazonian bugs.
Here’s my high-tech, 100-percent guaranteed method of keeping creepy crawlies out of my clothes and shoes while in the jungle.
A ginormous Ziplock — Amazon-sized for freakishly huge Amazonian bugs.
I have a lot of people tell me that I’m brave for traveling around the world.
I feel a lot of things, but brave isn’t one of them. However, it got me to thinking about the character traits that do make for a good long-term traveler.
Open
It seems like this would be one trait inherent to every traveler, but that’s not always the case. In Bangkok, I met a Swedish woman who was just starting a six-month trip around Southeast Asia. She wanted to join me for dinner, and I recommended a great street cart nearby. Her response? “Oh, I don’t like Asian food.” Can you imagine how difficult the next six months will be for that poor girl? I’m not saying you have to lose all your inhibitions and give every experience a shot — I’m specifically thinking about that ashram in India where they have big, freaky orgies — but at least inch your way out of your comfort zone. Start with a plate of pad Thai and move on from there.
Polite
I am appalled by the travelers I meet who are condescending, even downright mean, to the local people. A good traveler is respectful and understanding. They realize that every culture is beautiful, even if it differs dramatically from their own. Also, please and thank you make a world of difference when you communicate with others, even when you do it in another language.
Humble
At home I know how to mail a package, order food, visit the doctor. On the road, however, even simple tasks take major effort. Sometimes you will seem like an idiot. Sometimes you will feel like a child. Sometimes people will laugh at you. It can be incredibly frustrating, especially for those of us who like to pretend we know it all, but you’ll just have to suck it up. Also, now you know how it feels when someone visits your home country — and I bet you’ll be a little more understanding.
Adaptable
Sometimes you have to make do with what you have. Switch to a different bus. Arrive in a strange country at 4 a.m. Take a bucket shower and towel off with your yoga pants. Sleep in a room with strangers. Accept the fact that you got ketchup instead of marinara sauce. Drink the warm beer.
Patient
My rigid, military dad would hate the bus schedule in Mbale, Uganda, for the sheer fact that there is no bus schedule. On the day I wanted to leave town, I stopped by the station at 9 a.m. and asked for the next bus. I was told there were no buses that day. I asked again. I was told there might be a bus. Not sure. So I said, “If there is a bus that left today, what time would that bus leave?” “Maybe noon. Come back later.” At 10 a.m. I returned. That’s when I was told there was a bus, but it would leave at 2:45 p.m. I decided to hang out on a bench and wait — and that’s why I was able to catch the bus, which actually left at 11:25. I have no idea why the bus didn’t adhere to a schedule, and I am still perplexed by how Africans do this on a daily basis. I just had to go with it and sit around until I got what I needed.
Shameless
Once upon a time, I turned on the tap whenever I used the restroom because I didn’t want anyone to hear me pee. I puckered up with stage fright if anyone even walked down a nearby hallway. Cut to a rainy night at a busy corner bar in Kigali, Rwanda. I had to use the toilet, which was basically a hole in an alley, surrounded by a few tipsy pieces of corrugated tin and some cardboard. There was no roof, and the rain was coming down hard and cold. One of my English students took me by the hand, shielding me with a pink child’s umbrella. Another student braced herself against the metal sheets, keeping the tin from falling over in the nasty wind. Squatting and giggling in that alley, I realized I had become less high-maintenence and slightly more audacious. But in a good way.
Persistent
In Ethiopia I came across this phenomenon where I would ask for directions, and the person would tilt their hand from side to side, often moving their finger in a circle. Sometimes I had to ask 14 people the same question just to get down the block. It demonstrated the necessity of asking a lot of questions to get the answers I needed, something that applies to a lot of travel situations.
Trusting
Repeat after me: There are more good people out there than bad people. The good people are generous, they like to show off their city, they are interested in learning about you, and they are quick to help. When you turn yourself over to a place, open yourself to the people there as well, and you will be rewarded.
Compassionate
It’s not like you have to solve a huge humanitarian crisis. You don’t even have to volunteer if you don’t want to. Simply taking the time to educate yourself about a nation, a city, a village and the issues they face is enough. Maybe it’ll inspire you to help someone out with a kind word, a helpful hand or a dollar. Or maybe you’ll pack your stories away to inspire someone else someday. Either way, showing concern for others will help put your travels in context and give you a deeper, more meaningful perspective of the places you’ll go.
Curious
Of course this is the big one. If you don’t want to know more about something, anything, everything, you should probably stay at home.
Whether you call it football or soccer, one thing is certain — attending a game in South America is a must.
For me, there was no better place than Buenos Aires, where I could root for one of the nation’s most beloved teams, Boca.
Though my knowledge of the game is limited — um, I saw “Bend It Like Beckham” once — I find it really easy to get caught up in the energy and excitement of a crowd. The home team was winning, the stands crackled with electricity and I sang and cheered until my throat went dry.
Interested in checking out a match for yourself? Here are my top tips for how to score some major points.
DO
Go with a group, especially if it’s your first time. The stadium is crowded, the situation is overwhelming and the fans are nuts. And we’re not talking about the kind of nuts where they paint their tummies and wear cheese wedges on their heads. These fans will set you on fire.
Scream your fool head off, even if you don’t know the words to the chants.
Stay tucked well underneath the balcony where the visiting supporters sit. The fans tend to get rowdy and throw things at the fans below. That includes waste … human waste.
Stay in your seat until the police say you can leave. Once the game is over, visiting supoprters have 30 minutes to leave the stadium. When they have cleared out, home team fans can go.
Roll up your pant legs before leaving. For some weird reason, fans of the losing team all get the urge to piss at the same time on the stairs of the stadium, leaving the winning team’s fans to wade through muck and puddles.
Chat with the cute guy next to you by mumbling something like, “Moreno is really taking advantage of that defensive lapse and controlling the tempo of the game.” Should that fail, simply yell “OLE!”
DON’T
Buy a soda. It’s guaranteed to be flat and expensive.
Take anything valuable with you. There are pickpockets everywhere.
Root for another team while sitting in the home team section. This is a matter of life or death. Seriously.
Lose track of your group and spend an hour waiting for them on a very dangerous and dark street corner in a country where you don’t speak the language, all while wearing the rival team’s colors. (Not saying this is what happened to me. Just a random suggestion.)
GOOD TO KNOW
No alcohol is sold inside the stadium. So if you want to be a belligerent drunk, get spirited before the match.
Sometimes fans set off a bunch of flares inside the stadium, creating a lot of smoke and chaos. This appears to be acceptable behavior.
Most of all, have a fantastic time!
Our entire trip has come with warnings and ominous advice — including the well-worn refrain of “Don’t drink the water.”
Everybody has told me this, in one variation or another.
Don’t drink the water. Don’t use the ice. Don’t brush your teeth with water from the tap. Don’t let water from the shower splash your face. Don’t consume blended margaritas. Don’t wash fruit with water from the tap. Don’t eat the fruit that has been grown using the water that you should not be drinking in the first place.
Excellent advice except … I still need water.
Buying many bottles of water per day is expensive and not very eco-friendly. And the chemical drops and pills designed to treat the water are impractical and not a decent long-term solution. Plus, they taste bad.
That’s why the most important thing in my backpack is my SteriPEN.
It’s about the size and shape of a highlighter marker, so it’s extremely light and compact. I can easily stow it away in my daypack or purse when I’m on the go.
To use, I simply press a button, an ultraviolet light comes on, and I stir the pen into the water. Just 90 seconds later — PRESTO! — I’m the proud owner of one liter of fresh, safe water.
I have The Adventurer model, which comes with a solar battery charger — so I’ll never be stuck without access to clean water, no matter where I am in the world.
So far I’ve used my SteriPEN all over the Amazon, through rural Bolivia, even on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, where our guides confirmed the water contained cryptosporidium (aka one of the nasty buggers that will sock you right in the intestines). With my SteriPEN in hand, I was confident that I could purify the water and remain healthy — and I was right.
I firmly believe that this trip would be next-to-impossible to do without a SteriPEN. And that’s something I’d say even if they weren’t one of our sponsors.
I’ll probably even carry the SteriPEN with me once I return home, since some water sources can be pretty dodgy. (I distinctly remember one water fountain at LAX that tasted like mold and poison.) I also think it makes a valuable addition to my earthquake kit.
SteriPENs range in price from about $60 for the small emergency version to $100 for the heftier models. (Extra batteries and solar charging kits cost extra). Purchase through an online retailer like Amazon.com, or visit an outdoor goods store, like REI.
Find out more about the product at their website.
There are 50 ways to leave your lover, but there’s really only one way to leave your job. If you’re going to travel around the world, chances are you’re going to have to resign.
For me, that’s been the scariest part of this whole venture. This is the first time in my adult life that I’ll be without a job, a 401K and an insurance package, and that’s pretty damn terrifying. And the prospect of sitting face to face with my boss, telling him about my crazy travels plans, was even more frightening.
Though I haven’t left any jobs before, I have left boyfriends. (Lots of them, actually.) So in abandoning my job, I applied the same principles of abandoning people.
How to break up with your job in five easy steps:
1. Do it in person. I once broke up with a dude over e-mail, and it’s something I still regret. Major life changes shouldn’t be made via computer or text message.
2. It doesn’t have to be dramatic. You’re all adults here. Keep the conversation calm and be open to discussion. Be direct and honest about what you want. Remember that this is difficult for both of you.
3. Not all relationships are created equal. You know how some people can remain friends after a break-up while others can’t? That’s how it is with jobs too. Maybe your boss is open to the possibility of a long-term leave of absence instead of a full-blown resignation. Maybe there’s a way you can do your job from the road. Maybe the position will be open for you when you return. Or maybe there’s a lot of anger and resentment about your departure and your boss will stab you with a pen. Every situation is different.
4. Don’t undervalue your worth. There are occasions that call for self-deprecation, but this isn’t one of them. You have every right to pursue your passion and you deserve to be living out your dreams.
5. Move on. Don’t talk smack about your company, don’t harbor any regret, don’t get sad. Appreciate what you had with this job and use it to launch you into an even bigger, better career in the future.
In my case, talking to my boss was an enormous relief. He said he understood and respected my decision to leave. I asked him if he thought I was nuts for taking on a round-the-world journey and he said, “You know, ships are safe in the harbor, but ships weren’t made for the harbor. Ships were made to sail.”
Now that’s a nice ending for a beautiful relationship!