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travel

How I paid for a trip around the world on a journalist’s salary

August 13, 2011

Forget all of the places I’ve seen, the friends I’ve made and the experiences I’ve had. Everybody always asks me the same question about my travels: How did you pay for it?

Before I started my round-the-world trip, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could afford such a thing. It seemed like the most ridiculous, far-fetched idea ever — especially for someone working on a journalist’s salary.

Then one day I realized not every traveler out there is a trust fund baby, and somehow they made it happen. From that moment on, I worked on turning my dream into a reality. Here’s how I did it.

1. I saved. I know it sounds terribly boring, but it’s true. I pulled the reins on a lot of extraneous spending — I stopped going out, I carried my lunch to work, I brewed my own coffee, I watched movies on DVD instead of going to the theater, I quit my online shopping habit. (You already know all of this stuff, but I swear it works.)

TIP: Hard economic times call for flasks, so I created something that I call “purse wine.” When I wanted to be social but couldn’t afford a full night out at a fancy bar, I’d still meet my friends and I’d order a glass of house wine … which I would later discreetly refill from a small bottle in my purse. Everybody wins. The bar still gets money, I have a night out with my friends, and I end up spending something like $10 instead of $40. Be warned, though, I think it’s illegal to carry your own booze into an establishment.

Seriously. They make these wines portable for a reason.

 

2. I sold things. My car went on Craigslist, my clothes went to a consignment shop, my electronics went on eBay. I also had two huge garage sales. And believe it or not, I still have a lot of things to sell.

TIP: I only reaped a few hundred dollars at each garage sale, and it wasn’t worth it for the time and effort spent putting them together and advertising them. This time around I’m going to try having a virtual garage sale by posting all of my goods on one site, then putting links on Facebook, Twitter and Craigslist. I’ll let you know how that goes.

 

3. I worked. Nobody paid for me to travel. I didn’t have an assignment. I didn’t have a trust fund. In order to keep my bank account afloat, I sold some freelance writing and photography along the way.

TIP: Most of the longterm travelers I met on the road sustained themselves by designing websites, but other folks were teachers, lawyers, accountants, hair dressers. It’s definitely possible to turn your profession into cold, hard pesos while you’re on the road.

 

4. I went to cheap places. I’m one of those people who wants to see everything, so I didn’t have a burning desire to go to, say, France over other locales. Since my priority was to make the money last as long as possible, I literally googled “world’s cheapest countries” and built the framework of my itinerary from that.

TIP: Some places turned out to be more expensive than planned (like Argentina and South Africa), which caused me to cut out a few more expensive countries at the last minute (Tanzania, Botswana).

 

5. I stayed in cheap places.

Sometimes I camped.

 

Sometimes I slept in dorms.

 

Sometimes I stayed in places that were worth far more than the $6 price tag.

 

And sometimes the places looked like crime scenes.

 

Yes, I could have stayed at nicer hotels, but then my trip would have ended in one month instead of 12.

TIP: Whenever I went to a new country, I booked my first night in advance. After that, I asked other travelers for advice or walked around to find more economical digs. I almost always found a place that was better, cheaper or more comfortable.

 

6. I ate cheap things. That doesn’t mean I ate bad things. In fact, I ate really well — I just didn’t pay a lot for it.

I kept some staples in my backpack like crackers, peanut butter, packets of instant oatmeal, dried fruit and a jar of instant coffee. That’s what I ate most days for breakfast or lunch. Then I paid a visit to the markets, both to get the local flavor and to get some fresh produce, which helped me toss together some easy, inexpensive meals like instant noodles with spinach, mango and bean salad, stir-fried veggies and rice.

 

By cooking most of my meals, that meant I had more money to spend on restaurants, pubs and street food. I rarely spent more than $5 a day on food, but I still sampled what every country had to offer.

 

TIP: Street eats are the best. In my experience, the vendors’ stalls are cleaner than restaurant kitchens, everything is fresh because they have a high turnover of food and you can see exactly what you’re getting into before you ever order or pay. Most important, the food is inexpensive, authentic and not geared toward tourists.

 

7. I shared. Traveling with two (or more) is almost always cheaper.

TIP: Even though I was traveling solo for most of this trip, I made friends with other travelers along the way. If we were headed in the same direction, I made an effort to see if they wanted to split a cab, a meal or even a room for the night.

For example, Linsay (the Irish lass) and I traveled through most of Vietnam together.

 

8. I haggled. It is not in my nature to haggle over prices, so this is a skill I worked hard to develop. Basically I learned that you can’t get a discount if you don’t ask. Also, in most of the countries I visited, haggling is expected.

 

I even managed to get some free pineapple with these dumplings. Score!

TIP: Here are the three biggest rules for haggling: Never look like you are interested in what you’re buying. Have a price in mind and never pay more than that. Be prepared to walk away.

 

9. I skimped. I couchsurfed. I camped. I volunteered. I took a lot of buses instead of planes. I rented bikes instead of getting cabs. I walked. I asked about free museum days. I found discounts. I used frequent flyer miles. I didn’t buy many souvenirs.

TIP: Every time I booked a tour, I was disappointed. I found that by doing walking tours or putting together my own itinerary, I saw more of the things that interested me and I saved money while still learning a lot about a new place. This street art in Kuala Lumpur, for instance, will never be on any tour — but I’m so glad I found it.

 

10. I have amazing friends. My computer suffered a tragic death in Argentina, and then I made two South African men very rich while they tried to fix it ripped me off. This put an enormous dent in my budget — and worst of all, I wasn’t able to do my work without a computer.

That’s when my high school boyfriend made a blog about my situation and asked for donations. Friends from all over the world contributed what they could, which lead to the computer I’m using right now. That extraordinary effort meant so much to me, and I am grateful to have such ferociously good people in my world.

TIP: You know that beautiful scene from “It’s a Wonderful Life” where people flood George Bailey with money when he needs it most? I lived it, and it’s an incredible thing. This showed me how important it is to cherish your relationships.

 

MY BUDGET

I saved $10,000 to begin my trip. I made another $5,000 by working while traveling. Then I was slammed with a last-minute medical bill for $2,000, when my insurance company refused to pay for surgery on my broken foot.

I booked most of my flights in advance using AirTreks, a company that specializes in putting together difficult itineraries on a budget. My flights from continent to continent came to around $2,500 total. I purchased some smaller fights in between, like from Hanoi to Vientiane, when I couldn’t bear to do 30+ hours on a terrible Vietnamese bus.

I spent way too much on gear in advance, giving REI a big chunk of money. Maybe $1,000? I don’t know. I’m trying to block that from my memory.

I’m not one of those people who writes down everything I spend and files it away in a Quicken document. I saw those travelers, and I admire them. But I don’t do things that way, and I didn’t want to spend all my travel time hunkered over a spreadsheet.

Instead, my strategy was to keep an approximate budget of $27 a day. (Hey, that’s cheaper than Rachael Ray’s daily food bill!) I kept track of the numbers in my head, and I was very free flowing about it. Sometimes I came under budget, which meant I could spend a little more the next day. Or, if I spent more than $27, I knew I had to spend less the following day.

I did splurge for some expensive things, like the gorilla trek in Rwanda (the permit from the government is $500), but that was one of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. I knew I would regret it if I didn’t do it.

It took many, many $10 days to save up enough for that $500+ day, but you know what? It was worth every penny.

 

Overall, I spent less than I would have by living in the U.S., but I came home far richer.

Home is where the sad is

August 8, 2011

Well, I’m officially back in Palm Springs, but I’m having trouble readjusting to life here.

 

Part of that is because I’m not returning to the home I left behind. Just before I began my year-long trip around the world, The Husband and I moved into a smaller, more affordable place. (It was pointless for him to live in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom condo by himself, and it was easier for us to financially manage a small apartment.) We moved into this apartment just a few days before I hit the road.

While I was gone, The Husband unpacked all the boxes I left behind. In order to squeeze everything into dollhouse-sized closets, he vacuum packed all of my clothes. He erected metal shelving units to hold everything that wouldn’t fit into drawers and cupboards, he developed a special folding system for the bathroom towels, and he found the most counterintuitive location for the coffee mugs. He really did a lot of work to turn this apartment into his home.

Toss me into that recipe, and it’s confusing. I’m a stranger here. I don’t know where to put away my pajamas, I can’t locate the can opener and I shut the shower door in a way that causes water to leak all over the floor.

Then there are the inevitable weird, awkward, wonderful bits about being back in the Western world. In no particular order:

* I forget the water here is safe. I hesitate to run my toothbrush under the tap. I instinctively ask for no ice in my drinks. I can’t believe I can drink straight from the tap.

* Toilets flush. (And you can put toilet paper in them!)

* I have more clothes than I know what to do with.

* When I have to charge my electronics, I can plug them in without a converter.

* I don’t have to carry a roll of toilet paper in my bag anymore.

* Most everyone speaks English.

* When I wake up, I know exactly where I am.

* Severe sticker shock. Everything feels incredibly expensive here, which makes shopping miserable. Plus, I look at price tags and mentally calculate how many rural Ugandans could be fed for the same amount.

* The abundance of everything everywhere is overwhelming. And those who take it for granted make me angrier than I ever thought possible.

* Things here feel complicated, crowded, commercialized.

So, yeah. This has actually been the most difficult terrain for me to navigate. Roaming gave me a direction I never had when I stayed in one place — so now that I’m officially in one place, I don’t know where to go. People keep asking me about my “plan,” and I honestly don’t know what to tell them.

I’ve been very depressed, to a point where I don’t even enjoy interacting with other people or leaving my house. I don’t even know how to be social anymore. I don’t like answering superficial questions about my trip, and I know I bore people when I talk in-depth about the things that feel important to me now. I know I’m supposed to be happy and content here in the U.S., but surprisingly, this feels like the most foreign place I’ve been.

On one of my first days back, a friend asked me a question about my trip. I started to respond, “Well, when I was in Thailand …” She cut me off and mocked me, saying, “Oh, so now you’re one of those insufferable people who starts stories by saying, ‘Well, when I was in Thailand …'” She made me feel like trash, as if I have to squelch the all experiences that have been so invigorating, motivating and challenging in the past year. That kind of thing makes me wonder why I came back at all.

To be clear, not everything is bad. I’m thankful for hot showers, Twizzlers, swimming pools and real coffee. It’s really nice to crawl into bed without checking for cockroaches first. And I love spending time with my real-life husband, not just an image on Skype.

 

Of course I’m grateful for all the adventure, fun and surprise I’ve had during my travels, and I don’t regret anything about this trip. It’s just that after spending 12 months pining for Palm Springs, I thought this part would be easier.

I wish they made a Lonely Planet guide for home.

 

Patent pending

July 28, 2011

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.

 

Shopping for weapons in Argentina

July 21, 2011

Pity the unlucky fool.

 

Everybody warned me that Buenos Aires would be dangerous.

Watch out for pickpockets! Liars! Thieves! Sketchy men in trench coats!

So I was on guard as soon as my bus hit BA city limits — even though I’d already spent three months backpacking around South America without any problems.

Even the owner of my hostel was the purveyor of doom. “Be careful out there,” he said, his mouth firmly set into a grim line. “Not safe for a girl alone.”

With that in mind, the illuminated streets transformed as I walked them. Elegant architecture leaned menacingly over the sidewalks. Each alley looked more shadowy than the last. Even the jolly cook at a nearby pasta restaurant looked downright criminal as he hoisted a fat knife to slice through sheets of ravioli.

When I happened upon a gun store downtown, I had no choice but to walk inside. I figured it was fate.

The walls were lined with glass cases that ran nearly floor to ceiling. They contained enough firearms to fuel several James Bond movies. Maybe a Jason Bourne one too. Several items under the front counter looked suspiciously like landmines.

It was a small, cramped shop, so I didn’t get far before a few employees descended and asked if I needed help.

At least, I think that’s what they were saying. I only know essential Spanish, like how to order coffee, ask for the toilet or say “Those drugs aren’t mine.”

“Hola,” I said to the shopkeeper, furiously flipping through my purse-sized English-to-Spanish dictionary. Unfortunately, the words I was searching for were’t listed.

“No hablo mucho Espanol,” I apologized. “Donde puedo comprar … pepper spray? Por favor?”

I got a blank look.

“Er, spray de pimiento?”

Nothing.

It was time for me to pull out all the stops. It was time for charades.

I gave an Oscar-worthy performance, playing the role of an innocent woman walking down the street as well as the brutal attacker who punches her in the head. Just as the thief is about to make off with her valuables, our heroine pulls pepper spray from her purse and shoots him in the eye, sending him kicking and screaming to the floor.

I looked up from where I was crumpled on the dirty, stained tile. I was slightly out of breath.

“Spray de pimiento?” I tried again.

“Ah,” said the crowd, which had gathered in a full circle around me.

One of the gun shop employees disappeared behind a curtain. When she returned, she handed over a plastic package of pepper spray.

“Mace,” she said.

Ah. Mace.

For the record, I was never attacked or pickpocketed anywhere in the world, though some thieves ransacked the luggage compartment of my bus in Thailand. And the only thing I had stolen? My pepper spray.

One hundred awesome things: #25-1

July 16, 2011

My friend Monica said most people pass years with nothing to show for it except pay stubs and broken resolutions.

I didn’t want to do it that way. Too many years of my life blend into one another.

So last year I traded in my briefcase for a backpack and set out to travel the world. One year and 19 countries later, I ended up with hundreds of adventures and new memories.

I’ve been posting some of my favorites. Part one is here. Here’s part two. Click here for part three.

And now, I present to you the fourth and final installment of One Hundred Awesome Things I Did During My Year Abroad.

25. Crammed myself into an ancient jar.

 

24. Crossed the Mekong from Laos to Thailand on a tipsy canoe.

 

23. Gave alms and fistfuls of rice to monks on the street in Luang Prabang.

 

22. Attended a Ugandan circumcision festival.

 

21. Took a spontaneous night bike ride through Malacca, Malaysia. Rang my bell frequently and inappropriately.

 

20. Worked with formerly abused elephants at a sanctuary in Thailand.

 

19. Taught an English class in Rwanda.

 

18. Took a boat to Jordan.

 

17. Saw the sun set over Angkor Wat.

 

16. Visited the oldest bar in the world.

 

15. Discovered that kimchee dumplings are the best. food. ever.

 

14. Slept in a bamboo hut on the beach.

 

13. Tiptoed through pharaohs’ tombs.

 

12. Watched a cricket match.

 

11. Ate a dessert that includes shaved ice, coconut, grass jelly and beans. And it was good!

 

10. Biked through Thailand to see a stunning Buddha statue that brought me to tears.

 

9. Enjoyed an Ethiopian coffee ceremony.

 

8. Saw a baby giraffe snuggle with a mommy giraffe.

 

7. Had my eyebrows threaded in Little India, Kuala Lumpur.

 

6. Ditched the guidebook and asked people for directions and advice instead.

 

5. Walked through the Amazon rainforest on suspension bridges.

 

4. Woke up with a goat in my dorm room. (Not on purpose.)

 

3. Handed out balloons to kids all over the world.

 

2. Became the person I always wanted to be.

 

1. Came home again.

 

Now it’s your turn.

What do you want to do with the next year of your life?