The first couple days after returning from vacation are always a struggle—even more so when you know you’ll be jetting off to another exotic location the following week. From jet lag and slowly coaxing yourself out of vacation mode, to gauging your answer to the infamous “how was your trip” questions. Of course it’s a courtesy to ask people how their vacation went, but not everyone really cares. And even then, what part do you tell them about while keeping it brief enough for the water cooler? The food? The sights? The people? The culture? I could talk about my travels all day, but instead I’ve tried to keep it brief amongst coworkers. For the rest who are curious, I’ll share it here.
There will be more detailed posts to follow, but I just need to put it out there: Istanbul is a stunningly beautiful, almost magical city that’s really different from most places I’ve visited. In a very good way. Even though I stayed in ultra touristy Sultanahmet. It seemed like the perfect introduction to a Muslim country since they don’t seem to be very dismissive of Westerners. I don’t have any religious upbringing whatsoever so I’m fascinated by learning all about different faiths. I mean I certainly have my own beliefs, but I’ve actually managed to avoid sharing those with anyone pretty much ever. Well except for one of my exes, but that’s partially why he’s an ex.
Anyway, the city is MASSIVE. I had no idea how big it even was until I went up to Galata Tower and looked out over the city. Then I took a cruise up the Bosphorus to see it was even bigger. For fuck’s sake it spans two continents, of course it’s huge. From above it kind of reminded me of San Francisco times about 100, but with a way different culture and a lot more mosques.
Kebap. Lamb. Lahmacun. Borek. Meze. Baklava. The food was so delicious I’ve actually doubled in size upon returning to the States. Seriously though I’ve never eaten so well on a solo vacation. Usually I’m pretty frugal with what I eat, picking up yogurt and granola bars to get me through most of the day, then eating whatever random cheap dinner I come across in the evening. I usually save a ton of money doing that, but this time I just couldn’t stop myself from over-indulging every time I turned a corner. I never ate the same thing twice (except for baklava, but come on, baklava). The hotel had free buffet breakfast with a perfect rooftop view so I sampled everything they had to offer every morning. I stopped at dessert shops and street carts even when I wasn’t hungry. I splurged on dinner and I went back to the hotel full and happy (with more baklava in hand) every night.
Like most of my trips I went to Turkey alone, but I was rarely by myself this time around. In general the people in Istanbul were almost alarmingly friendly and hospitable. It threw me off a bit because I was always trying to figure out whether they were genuinely nice or if they just wanted to lure me into their family’s shop to buy something (or kill me in a back alley, you know, the standard worries). Waiters gave me free drinks and bar recommendations. Strangers on the street asked me to dinner. Others simply asked where I was from and started a conversation about the US or gave me directions. Yes, the tourist spots were loaded with hagglers and conniving salesmen, but rather than walking through the city ignoring everyone like I do in New York, I actually conversed with nearly everyone who spoke to me. Hell I even approached people myself and made a few friends. In fact I think this was the most “unplugged” solo trip I’ve ever taken, meaning I didn’t walk down the streets listening to my headphones so that strangers wouldn’t talk to me. I made small talk. I listened to everything. I met locals and I hung out with them. I went to Taksim at midnight, which some US news sources have recently portrayed as the “dangerous” part of the city. It wasn’t very dangerous at all. Probably because on this particular night at least, the protests had been replaced by a bunch of drunk kids partying. And a Shake Shack.
The call to prayer is a really beautiful thing to hear. One guy told me that Istanbul has over 2,000 mosques, so to hear these calls come over the loudspeakers and echo throughout the city during the day was absolutely surreal. My first day there I woke up sometime in the 4am hour to hear the first one of the day which completely blew my mind because it was still dark out. Another local later told me that the morning call to prayer has an additional line in it to say something about how God is more important than sleep. I’m guessing that prayer is for the truly faithful Muslims. And right in the middle of the day, seeing men shutting tourists out of their shops in the Grand Bazaar to pray was a sight to see. I mean I’m used to America where capitalism usually trumps religion, so to see people with such a devout religious culture is truly mesmerizing.
Sorting through my 1000+ photos is already leaving me with a serious case of wanderlust. How many days until I go back?
Luckily flights during the off-season are actually pretty cheap (under $500 RT!) to Istanbul, so the likelihood of me going back is actually pretty good. Except next time I’m stopping off in Cappadocia and Pamukkale. Who’s with me?
It’s March. The temperature’s finally above freezing (even if only for a couple of days), which means it’s almost tourist season in New York. So if you’re planning a trip while hoping to avoid “the angry New Yorker,” you might want to brush up on the laws of the land and catch up to the speed of the city.
Disclaimer: I’m not one of those self-righteous assholes who think the whole world revolves around New York, but I do understand the feeling of traveling somewhere and wanting to understand and respect the local culture, wherever that may be. And somewhere along the line, New York City became one of those places where many people want to fit right in.
LEARN HOW TO WALK Our sidewalks are like our highways. And most New Yorkers walk in the fast lane. It’s preferable you keep up, but if you have to walk slowly, don’t do it arms linked with your friends so that no one can pass. Just move to the right and give us room to pass.
PREVENT SWIPE ANXIETY To get around the city you’ll need to purchase a MetroCard unless you’re loaded with cab fare. For your own sake, it’s best you learn how to use it BEFORE you walk up to the turnstile, train waiting, during rush hour.
So have your card out and ready before you enter the turnstile. Know how to hold it properly (black strip facing inward, arrows pointing forward) and swipe in one decisive motion forward just like a credit card. There’s a little screen that’ll let you know whether it’s “OK” to pass through, or if you need to swipe again.
LEARN HOW TO USE THE TRAIN Use the subway whenever possible and you’ll save a fortune on cabs. But for your own good, do a bit of research beforehand and learn how the trains work so that you know how to tell if it’s an express (white circles on the map) or local train (black circles), and learn that Uptown trains [essentially] run to any stops North from where you’re at in Manhattan, and Downtown trains run South. Each train line runs in two directions, so if you see a station name such as “Pelham Bay Park” or “Coney Island,” you’ll know that’s the direction the train is heading. Just look at a map and see what end of the line that station is, and you’ll be sure that’s the way the train is headed. If you want to go in the opposite direction, just look for signs to that platform, which can sometimes be across the street.
Hopstop is a good app for that, but so is Google Maps. Just plug in where you want to go and choose the public transportation icon for easy step-by-step directions. But do that above ground, because you won’t get reception in most stations underground. Or you can just ask a New Yorker, because more often than not they’ll happily give you directions. It’s up to you to judge whether or not those directions are accurate.
LEARN PROPER SUBWAY ETIQUETTE Once you’re actually on the train, using common sense should get you by. But just in case you’re still worried, let’s discuss some of these.
– Wait for people to get off the train before you get on.
– Once you get on, move out of the doorway.
– If you get a seat, only take up the room necessary for one person. Pile your bags on your lap if you have to, don’t set them on the seat next to you.
– Don’t try and squeeze your XL ass into an XS space.
– Even if you’re good at balancing, hold onto something so you don’t go flying when the train suddenly jerks or stops.
– Clipping your nails can wait until you get back to the hotel room.
– Don’t lean on a subway pole, especially clenching it with your butt cheeks on a crowded subway. There’s only so much space people can grab onto, so please be considerate.
– Similarly, if you’re a guy and a girl (or anyone) has her hands far down on a pole, don’t lean your junk on her hand and think it’s okay.
– Sometimes you have to pack in and get super friendly with people. These also tend to be the times the train stalls between stations and the lights flicker. It’s normal. Just avoid eye contact and silently curse in your head like the rest of us.
SAVE THE SMALL TALK Reaching a food/drink counter to place an order is not the time for friendly chitchat. Know what you want, and be ready to pay for it—often times just like that Visa check card commercial where it’s like an assembly line and that one asshole pulls out cash to pay and screws everything up. This still throws me off when I leave New York and I start talking to the counter staff. I just feel guilty even when no one is waiting.
GET USED TO SMALL SPACES New York apartments are small. And if you’re staying with a friend who lives in a studio apartment, do not belittle it by constantly pointing out how small, old, etc. it is. We work hard and pay a lot to live in our apartments, and we’re kind enough to let you stay there rather than shelling out $200 a night for a hotel room, so shut up and enjoy it.
It’s a living room, dining room, bedroom, and home office in one!At least the dinner table is never far from bed.
GET OUT OF THE WAY Be mindful of where you stop and gawk. Taking photos is great, double checking your GPS, go for it. But just like you wouldn’t stop your car in the middle of the freeway to snap a picture of an exit sign, don’t do it in the middle of our sidewalks. Take a look at your surroundings then step off to the side so you’re out of the way.
GET THE HELL OUT OF MIDTOWN Don’t associate New Yorkers with the overcrowded chaos of Times Square and then bitch about how rude New Yorkers are. Times Square is nothing but tourists, so naturally, when you’ve got a bunch of different cultures and languages all moving around in one spot, shit’s about to be annoying.
Actually on second thought, maybe it’s a good idea to corral all the tourists in Midtown…
BRING MONEY Or at least a credit card that’s not maxed out. NYC is fucking expensive so be prepared to spend more on basically everything while you’re here. And don’t bitch about it to us or the cashier every time you pull out your wallet, because we already know. We deal with those prices every day while usually never making nearly enough money and paying three times your mortgage to rent out a closet. You’re on vacation, spend a little. And if you’re super cheap like me, supplement it with lots of free activities like walking across the Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park, or going to the Crocodile Lounge and getting a free pizza with every drink you purchase.
MIND CYCLISTS, AND STAY OUT OF THE BIKE LANE New York is a city with increasing bike traffic. And honestly, I never really paid much attention to cyclists until I became one myself. It’s unbelievable how many people completely ignore their right of way and then complain at how rude they are when they yell out “bike lane” to avoid a collision. So call them hipsters, delivery guys, douchebags, messengers, or whatever you want, but do them all a favor and stick to the sidewalks. Don’t walk or stop in the bike path, because despite what you may think, it’s not just another piece of pavement for you to roam freely. When you have to cross a green path, just give a quick look to make sure no cyclists are coming. And yes, you’ll definitely see parked cars, joggers, construction barrels, and oblivious texting pedestrians using the bike lane like their own private driveway, but don’t join them as one of those jerks.
DON’T BE A DICK ON A SHITI BIKE Speaking of bikes, if you’re going to rent a Citi Bike at least spend few minutes researching the bike rules and be prepared to be shit talked by those hardcore spandex-clad Lance Armstrong looking mother fuckers. Citi Bikes are part of a bike share program, intended for people to get from point A to point B within about 30-45 minutes. So no matter how many trips you take on your day pass, it’s not for you to rent out, go the wrong direction and completely fuck up the flow of NYC commuting. Just obey normal traffic laws, don’t ride even two wide on a narrow path, and well, if I were you I’d wear a helmet if you’re going to brave the streets. But I’m sure any New Yorker couldn’t care less if you go sans helmet.
IF YOU’RE LAZY, STAND TO THE RIGHT I feel like you’ve probably learned this one at your local mall by now. Some subway stations and buildings have escalators because otherwise you’d be hoofing it up approximately 4 million stairs. But unfortunately these things don’t move quick enough for the oh-so-busy New Yorker who knows that their strategic race up the stairs will get them to their next train right before the doors close. So if you’re just along for the ride, stand to the right. If the escalator isn’t wide enough for someone to pass you, make sure the people behind you aren’t walking up. If they are, then sorry you are now too, or you’re an asshole.
DON’T BRING A TON OF SHIT New York is a city of public transportation and walking, not one for lugging around your entire shoe collection for a weekend trip. And remember you’ll likely have to lug that thing up a few flights of stairs at some point or another. If you’re a chick or just a bit older or frail looking, a friendly man will more than likely offer to help lug your size ridiculous bag up or down the subway stairs. But wouldn’t we all just be much better off if you packed your shit in a small enough bag that can move freely along with you without clogging up the stairwell?
I think after visiting you’ll quickly realize that not all of us are self-deserving assholes who think the whole world revolves around us. Our lack of outgoing friendliness just comes down to the sheer amount of people we deal with every day. Personally I move through the city in my own little bubble, headphones on, completely lost in my own thought. I don’t even notice most of the faces I encounter every single day, and if I were to say hello or flash a quick smile to each of them I’d never get anywhere. But I do notice those who get in my way and mess up my flow.
It goes without saying that some people are just irrationally angry or giant assholes—the same can be said about any place. But in a city with such an enormous population, small spaces, and a live-to-work mentality, you’re bound to encounter some tightly wound people from time to time so just deal with it and move on. After all, most of us were tourists at some point or another anyway.
But perhaps the best way to fit in is to do whatever the hell you want and not be at all sorry about it. Your indecisiveness is holding up that super important suited up d-bag from making it to his meeting on time? Maybe he should’ve left earlier. Your Citi bike joy ride going the wrong way down Allen Street briefly jolted those riding the right way? Well maybe you should respond to them the way my old roommate did, yelling out a loud “FUCK YOU!” and continuing on your way.
“You’re so lucky.” “Do you ever work?” “You must be rich.” “How do you have so much time off work?”
These are just a few of the questions I hear every time I jump on a plane, so please, allow me to answer.
Yes, I’m fortunate to have been given certain opportunities, but I also work my ass off and make plenty of sacrifices to put myself in those positions. Yes I work, all the time actually. And when I’m not at work, I’m likely at home working on my blog. I’m far from rich, but I am single and child-free, which means all of my money goes to me (and my least favorite uncle, Sam). And lastly, I guess I’m lucky enough to work for an employer that gives me a decent amount of vacation time, and I take full advantage of those days.
Basically, I’m not making a ton of money that allows me to live lavishly in New York and jet-set around the world every chance I get. It all comes down to the simple fact that I’m selective, decisive, and strategic about how and what I spend money on. And as a result I’ve reached a happy medium where I’m able to pay my bills, work full-time, and travel the world whenever I can.
So maybe some of these tips I use will help you get on the road or in the air a bit more while still working full-time.
Maximize paid time off. That means utilize long weekends, summer Fridays, holiday breaks, personal days, whatever your company gives you. Fly overnight, leave right after work, land two hours before going into the office, do what you’ve got to do. And don’t think that you can’t go some place awesome over a two or three-day weekend. I spent three months taking weekend getaways all over Europe—flying out at 6pm on Friday, and coming back at 8am on Monday morning—and saw so many amazing cities. Just be realistic with how far you can go, and go for it!
Negotiate vacation time. I’ve heard stories of people negotiating extra paid time off upon hiring into a new job, or even when they couldn’t get a raise yet at their current job. And seriously, to hell with employers who don’t give their employees proper paid time off.
Stop taking your job so seriously. I’m not by any means trying to belittle anyone’s career, but sometimes people simply think that their company will crumble or their employer will look down on them if they take a week off of work. If you have vacation time, USE IT. And use it wisely.
In 2013 my company paid for me to fly from New York to London, so I booked through IcelandAir because they were offering the option to add a multi-day stopover in Iceland for FREE on any flights from the US to Europe.
Cut out unnecessary expenses. My travel lifestyle certainly has its sacrifices, but I still live comfortably in Manhattan of all places. I spend more time at home, I grocery shop and pack lunch whenever possible, and I’ve really scaled back on how much money I throw away when I do go out. Save money wherever you can and it will all add up. Bike to work to alleviate the cost of transportation AND double as a workout rather than joining a gym. Choose an appetizer rather than a huge entrée. Don’t buy another round of drinks. Stay home once in a while. Don’t buy a bunch of useless shit just because it’s on sale. Stop shopping for clothes every week. Claim 0 on your taxes and spend that hefty tax return on a big trip. Cut down your cell phone plan or join a family share plan. Ditch the TV/cable/Netflix and watch your shows online. Stop being such a lush. Stop smoking. Basically, anything you can cut down on, you should. And it doesn’t mean you have to stop living your day-to-day life, just see where you can cut back a little.
Set up a bank account strictly for travel. If you’re anything like me and have a high rent/mortgage plus several student loans and bills to pay each month, finding spare cash to travel with can seem impossible. That’s why I set up a separate bank account so that $100 from each paycheck automatically gets deposited. Before you know it you’ve got some spare cash to put towards a flight, hotels, or spending money. (Bonus points for an account with a feature like the Bank of America Keep The Change program, that rounds up every purchase you make and puts the change into your account.)
Find a good rewards card and pay for everything you can with it. I’ve got the Capital One Venture Rewards card which gives me 2 points for every dollar I spend. I put most of my purchases on it each month, then I only touch my checking account when it’s time to pay the balance. Put all of your big purchases on there too, especially flights and hotels. Plus when you travel abroad, having a good travel card can keep you from paying foreign transaction fees. Check out thepointsguy.com to compare cards and see which is best for you.
Pay off your credit cards. While we’re on the topic, keep your credit card balance in check. Based on your income and free spending money, develop a plan to rack up points with it while paying it off immediately. That means DON’T CARRY A BALANCE. That also means spending within your means—if you don’t have the cash, don’t do it. You don’t want to be paying down $2,000 on your card and spending $700 on a flight.
A trip across the world might make for an expensive flight, but the points/miles help cushion the blow. Plus once you figure out how cheap it is to actually travel in places like Southeast Asia, you realize the bulk of your trip has already been paid for.
Go with your gut. What I mean is don’t go crazy with the planning. I’ve had some pretty great experiences by just booking a random getaway on a whim. Last week I booked a random flight to Istanbul in March knowing nothing about it because my gut was telling me to go for it. So if you see a deal, you can afford it, and you’ve got an inkling to travel there, just go for it. Book it and then figure everything else out later.
Never fly without getting frequent flyer miles. If possible, stick to one airline and their partner airlines just to keep racking up the points. But sometimes plans won’t allow you to do that, so make sure you sign up for whatever new program just in case. For example, my round trip flight to Thailand on Cathay Pacific in 2012 almost gave me enough points to fly NYC to Brazil one-way for free because I signed up for Asia Miles. A year later my flight from London to NYC on Aer Lingus (a partner in the Asia Miles program) gave me enough points to get me to that one-way ticket for free.
Sign up for hotel rewards programs as well. If your rewards program doesn’t let you redeem for hotels, consider joining a hotel rewards program as well. This might not be the best option for everyone, especially considering how often you can find much better deals by booking directly through a hotel, hostel, or Airbnb. But I signed up for hotels.com when I was traveling around Europe a lot because I got one free night for every 10 nights booked. Over the course of the year I managed to get two free nights which I just redeemed for that random trip to Istanbul. And I’m only two nights away from my third free night.
Plan wisely and look for money-saving alternatives. Okay stay with me on this one, because explaining my logic is not my strong point. The Galapagos have always been on my “I wish” list because I’d always heard they were so expensive. And yes, they’re a few thousand dollars if you do the traditional week-long island hopping cruise experience. If you actually stay on the islands, however, you can stay in a private room at a hostel for like $15 a night. Then you can barter with the park guides there and go on day trips to the other islands for like $70-$100. So here, the only real expensive part is the flight. And as mentioned above, I’ve been planning a trip to Brazil using my Asia Miles to get me there for free. So I looked up flight prices and realized that what I’d pay to travel ROUND TRIP to the Galapagos was only slightly more than what I’d pay for that ONE WAY flight back from Brazil. On top of that, if I booked a flight to the Galapagos through American Airlines, it’d give me enough AAdvantage points for a one way flight BACK from Brazil to NYC. Since American doesn’t fly to the Galapagos, but LAN, their partner airline in South America does, that’s who I booked through. So once I complete the trip I’ll have enough points to get me to and from Brazil for nearly free.
Choose cheaper places to sleep. Often times hotels are damn expensive. Look into bed and breakfasts, hostels (you can get private room hostels too if you’re beyond that stage in your life), or even couchsurfing. There are tons of people all over the world who love to travel and love to welcome people into their home and country. I’ve stayed in a few Airbnb apartments and met some pretty amazing people who included me in their dinner parties, homemade brunch celebrations, and nights out.
The view of the light from the Eiffel Tower from my Airbnb digs in Paris
Follow travel deal sites. I’m going to do a proper post on these soon because I’ve been hearing of so many new sites lately, and some that I’ve grown to love have recently started to suck, but The Flight Deal is a good one, as is Airfare Watchdog. I hear Skyscanner is as well, though I’ve never used it.
By following TripAlertz, I nabbed this 5-night getaway to the British Virgin Islands for only $300, flight and hotel included.
Search flexible dates. We all know that searching for flights over a couple of days, or even hours can give way to some serious savings. So try out various flight combinations before booking the best deal, and use a site like Kayak and their price trend predictor to get a feel for normal prices. Don’t be afraid of the overnight flights, the early morning flights, the (reasonable) layovers, or shifting your vacation by a few days. So what if you’re tired at work the day you get back? It’s one day of being a bit sleepy in exchange for a great vacation.
Don’t be afraid to go alone. If I passed up every trip that I didn’t have anyone to go with, I’d still be sitting on my ass in Ohio, having never left the States. Traveling alone is truly great, and though some people do prefer to travel with someone, I’ve never met someone who’s regretted traveling alone. If you’ve never done it, you might be surprised at just how enjoyable your experience will be. (And no, it’s not a big deal to eat alone in public, seriously.)
Think local. Don’t have the time or money to take off across the globe just yet? Hit a few places that are close to home to tidy you over, but keep saving for your big adventure.
While living in London I set off on a super cheap flight from London City Airport to Schiphol Airport, and stayed with a friend for free. I basically spent the same amount of money that weekend as I would’ve just staying in London.
Just book it. Making the decision to go somewhere can sometimes be the most difficult part. But once you book that flight, you’re going.
I could easily double or triple the size of this list, but the most important thing I can tell you to do is just do research. Don’t assume a place is too expensive and out of reach until you actually look into it for yourself. Travel isn’t nearly as expensive as many people think it is. And more often than not, it’s only as expensive as you make it. You’d be surprised how far your money can go in most places, especially where the exchange rate is favorable. Plus, walking around a new city or town on your own two feet is always free.
What other advice do you have for making travel affordable and doable outside of your 9-5?
Move over Mexican food. There’s a new first place contender for my gluttonous fat girl heart.
With its economy deep, deep in the shitter, I wasn’t really sure what to expect while I was in Greece. So I split my time between the ruins of Athens and the relaxing beaches of Crete. Both provided two starkly different views of Greece, but they also had two fantastic things in common: amazing hospitality and even better food. Seriously, not only was every single thing I put in my mouth worthy of a full-on addiction, the people putting these things on my plate wanted nothing more than to make sure I tasted everything, loved it, and ate some more.
I arrived in Athens right after an underwhelming couple of days in Italy. Maybe I went to the wrong places, but Rome just felt too busy, dirty, and touristy for me (though to be fair, the ruins around the Colosseum were beyond awesome). And frankly, I’d had similarly equal (if not better) Italian food in Little Italy. So on the drive from the airport to the hotel I was worried that the run-down streets of Athens would leave me feeling the same way. It felt old, dirty, and every surface was newly adorned with layers of graffiti. For a minute I thought about turning back to the airport to skip Athens all together and head to the islands.
Then we got to our hotel, the Herodion, and suddenly all was right in the world.
Considering the pocket change we paid, the hotel made me feel like a baller. Located at the base of the ultra-touristy Acropolis, it was just outside of the seemingly cash-strapped city streets and just a few blocks from the restaurants and shops of the Pláka. Aside from it being cheap enough for my travel partner Marcus and I to each have our own room, there was a rooftop garden just waiting for us to sip cocktails in the jacuzzi while looking out at the Parthenon. But I must say, once we finally made it up there I cracked open a Mythos and it kind of sucked. Reminded me a bit of Busch Light. Stick to food, Greece.
Our first evening in Athens we walked uphill to the Parthenon. It was closed for the evening, so naturally we went for the next best thing: food. Along some winding road down the hill we stopped into a restaurant that we couldn’t even read the name of, and the food absolutely blew my mind. It was my first taste of Greek food, and I only wish I would’ve been more hungry. But like a true fatty I went straight for the cheese appetizers. Two of them to be exact. Pan fried kefalotyri cheese for €4,50 and feta saganaki drizzled with honey for €6. Holy mind-blowing shit it was delicious.
The next morning I was introduced to my first of many deliciously satisfying all-you-can-eat breakfast buffets in Greece. I ate about six plates, which held me over until dinner when we stopped at Plakiotissa. Marcus ordered the always delicious moussaka, and I got stuffed peppers. It’s weird that this place has such bad reviews on TripAdvisor, because we both thought it was pretty damn tasty. Not as amazing as the first place we went, but still a solid, satisfying meal. We both scarfed down our meals until we were uncomfortably full, and when we thought we could eat no more, our new waiter friend brought us out free dessert. If this was a typical tourist-friendly Greek restaurant, I can’t even imagine how good the local spots were.
Ten extra pounds of Kim proved that I fell in love with food all over again in Athens. But it got even better.
I stayed at two different hotels in Crete, the first had buffet meals that were easy enough to sneak into without paying (woops). So of course I did that and sampled everything I could get my hands on. I know, how often do you get amazing food at a buffet though, right? Apparently all the time in Greece.
The salads. The stuffed grape leaves. The flaky phyllo layered with spinach and feta. The better-than-Italian pasta. The galaktoboureko. The lamb. The galatopita. I don’t even know what I was piling on my plate most of the time, but I do know that I never tried a single thing in Greece that I didn’t like. I went to several restaurants in Crete and ordered main dishes of things I’d sampled at the buffet, only to be even more wowed, but I know I’ve only barely scraped the surface of awesome Greek food.
It took all of my power not to throw out all of my clothes and fill my luggage with olive oil, spices, cheese, and whatever else I could fit in there from the airport marketplace. But I figured a cookbook would last much longer than any sort of actual food that’d surely be gone before my plane even made it back to the States, so I picked one up and decided I could make some of this stuff back in New York.
Have I yet? No. From what I can tell, cooking Greek food is super intimidating. But I’m up for the challenge if anyone wants to come over for dinner! I sure as hell can’t cook all that food just for one person.
Moral of the story, Greece has some incredible food. So when life gives a beautiful country financial lemons, travel there and make lemonade in the form of delicious meals and cheap accommodations. Just make sure to keep some cardio in your plan.
By some fucking miracle, I finished my PADI open water certification down in Marathon, Florida. And no, the open water dives weren’t any easier than the confined dives at the YMCA.
The morning started off just fine. The sun was shining, the previous day’s wind had turned into a light breeze, and I woke up plenty early enough to eat and hydrate before my afternoon dive. Most of all I was beyond excited to finally get out on a boat and see some marine life. But when I showed up at the shop, the morning dive was running pretty late. Excitement turned into boredom and slight agitation that I was wasting a warm, sunny day sitting inside.
Two hours later the boat came back to the shop. A few teenaged divers ran in ecstatic from their first open water dives. Then a much less enthused man came in, appearing unable to shake his sea legs.
“How was it?” the shop owner asked.
“Ha! Rough!” the older man laughed. “Nah it was okay, just…yeah, rough.”
The younger kids seemed unfazed, and at this point so did I.
This was my last day of training since I had already done my first two open water dives in a muddy canal the day before. That’s right, the ocean was way too rough, so me and Captain Bob headed to “the secret area” to practice my skills in a dirty ass creek. My mother would’ve killed me had she known I showed up to this dive shop, jumped in a truck with a strange old man, went to his house on another island to get a bunch of rope, drove out to a wooded “top secret” area that even the guys at the dive shop knew nothing about, parked on the side of the road, and walked through several yards of thick grass and trees to a muddy body of water far from where any human would ever hear my cries for help. Thankfully Captain Bob wasn’t a serial killer after all, but diving in those conditions kind of sucked. The visibility was less than 5 feet in some spots so all I could see was a murky green all around me. It was even worse when I accidentally turtle-rolled with my snorkel in and inhaled a giant mouthful of disgusting ass swamp water.
After that experience I was convinced that finally going into the ocean was going to blow my mind. I couldn’t wait.
Seven of us headed out on the boat—five divers plus the two instructors. Of the five, I was the most advanced by one day. The other four were a family of brothers and sisters in their late teens/early twenties who were all cousins of the shop owner. My instructor was Nick, a loud surfer-boy looking 26-year-old whose aquatic tattoos made him blend in perfectly under water.
The bay going out was a little choppy. The boat crashed over top of the growing waves for about 35 minutes before we got out to the reef. Once the engine stopped, I heard one of the girls throwing up off the far side of the boat from motion sickness. I started to get annoyed, hoping that her weak stomach wouldn’t prevent me from getting certified. Especially since we were already running two hours late and sun was due to set in about another two hours.
She was first to jump in the water in an attempt to quell her upset stomach. Everyone else was still getting their gear on, but I suited up in record time the second I realized my stomach felt a little queezy too. It wasn’t that bad though, so I chalked it up to sympathy sickness from seeing her blow chunks overboard. Without hesitation I put the regulator in my mouth, grabbed ahold of it and my mask, held onto the rest of my gear and took a giant stride into the water. I didn’t even double check to make sure my air supply was on. Getting in that water was my only concern so that I didn’t end up throwing up on my wetsuit. After signaling that I was okay, I swam the line out to the buoy we had tied off the boat so none of us got carried away in the rolling waves.
And holy shit were they some waves. While I was bobbing around at the surface waiting for the others, the waves would come and fully obstruct my view of the boat before going over my head. I inflated my BCD even more to make sure I was able to stay afloat as much as possible. I finally understood how people could drown in the ocean. When I looked back at the boat I realized that these waves were breaking well over the bow, and scenes from Deadliest Catch began to run through my mind.
Despite the fact that getting off the boat was helping everyone else, being in the water was no better for me. I was still feeling a bit nauseous, but not to the point where I thought I’d actually get sick.
After about fifteen minutes of trying to get everyone in the water we began to descend. Since I was the most experienced, I went down first with Nick about 25 feet to the sandy ocean floor alongside the reef. He went back up and I waited at the bottom while the other instructor, Greg, brought down the others one by one. Nick and pukey McGee were still at the surface.
Greg carried on and began walking us through the drills they’d needed to do for their first two dives. Mask flooding and clearing, regulator recovery, things I’d already done. I didn’t have time to redo all of that and complete the rest of my skills, so when he pointed at me to complete these, I was more than convinced he had me confused with one of the other girls. But of course it’s imfuckingpossible to communicate this under water. So I went with it.
It was hard to stay put on the ocean floor because the current from the waves would come along and push me and all the fish around me a good ten feet, turning it into a fun game of “don’t crash into the reef.” I’m pretty sure that added motion started to get to me. I was still feeling a bit uneasy, but was focusing on completing the shit I had to do to get certified.
Nick finally came down basically dragging the pale seasick girl latched onto his arm. She had her face buried into his arm and her limp body could’ve easily been mistaken as dead. But somehow she managed to spring to life and complete every drill with ease when her turn came up.
Finally Nick and I took off on our own to finish my skills. After I’d completed most of them, I still had about 1000 psi in the tank so we went exploring. We went over and through some reefs, past dark purple sea fans and schools of neon fish. One fish swam right up to my mask and tried to eat my bubbles. For a few minutes I actually forgot about feeling ill. I couldn’t wait to go up and get a new tank for a leisurely second and final dive of the day.
Before long we began to ascend slowly before practicing a CESA. My mind started to go blank and I couldn’t focus though I wasn’t exactly sure why. My stomach was still upset, but still not enough to get sick.
The second my face came out of the water I ripped the regulator out of my mouth and threw up. All over Nick. Thankfully he laughed it off while I kept emptying my guts in between waves.
“Get it all out girl,” he said while holding onto me. “That’s disgusting, but shit happens.”
I puked harder than I’d ever puked in my life, heaving into the ocean so hard that I was actually worried about popping a blood vessel in my eye.
“I’ve been there, it sucks. Just get it all out, you’ll feel better,” he continued.
The rolling waves were enormous, tossing me up and down a good ten feet with each swell. What the hell was going on? I’d never been seasick in my life, and I was completely fine on the boat, but now, after 40 minutes of diving I was experiencing it?
I became irrationally angry and started yelling. Yelling at the ocean, yelling at the situation, yelling at myself.
“Fuck. FUCK! What the FUCK body, man the fuck up! Pull it together!”
Nick laughed and commended my attitude, and after some tough talk he asked me if I was ready to go back down. I told him to go fuck himself and that he was out of his damn mind if he thought I was doing another dive. He laughed some more as salt water hit my lips, causing my body to begin puking up burning, yellow, foamy bile from the pits of my stomach. My abs ached, but after about another minute they’d finally stopped convulsing.
Then he got serious.
“Hey, look at me.” he said looking me square in the face as he grabbed onto my shoulders. All you have to do is go back down long enough to do your CESA. Then that’s it, you’re done, you’re certified. Okay? You got this!”
I looked at Nick and took a few deep breaths. Seeing his persuasive blue eyes behind that mask suddenly made me feel like I could suck it up and do this. I put the regulator in my mouth, but that first breath of compressed air had me puking bile again.
What the hell. I’d studied my ass off for this. I’d also spent a whole day in a pool, and another day drinking in murky green water to get here. My scuba experiences hadn’t exactly been enjoyable yet, but damnit I wasn’t going to give up with so little left to do. I couldn’t tell people that I didn’t get certified because I’m a sissy who gave up over a little seasickness. Once I felt a little better we went back down. But as soon as I got back under water I felt loopy, lightheaded and spacey. Not necessarily ill, but I couldn’t focus. I tried to tough it out and work past it, swimming around a bit to see if it would go away. After a few minutes I realized it wasn’t going to, so we went for that final CESA to get out of the water. Again, right when I got to the surface I got sick again. I finally understood what hell was, and I looked over at the shore that was miles and miles away. I wanted nothing more than to be curled up on dry land and I seriously considered swimming there.
Then everybody else came up and got into the boat to swap tanks while I stayed in the ocean floating around, thanks to my BCD, dotting the water with a trail of puke piles to feed all the fish.
All of a sudden three of the girls were puking off the side of the boat, and once I realized the waves were bringing it my way I headed for the boat too. Everyone tried telling me that the boat wasn’t going to be any better, but I didn’t see how it could be any worse than throwing up directly into my only source of oxygen 25 feet below the surface. They tried to get me to swap out my tank and go back down for another dive, but before I could even get both feet on the boat I felt ill, and my 70 or so pounds of scuba gear suddenly felt like 200. I couldn’t get out of my gear fast enough.
Hell no. I didn’t care if I was uncomfortable on the boat, it looked like I was going to puke regardless of where I was, so I’d much rather do it where I can breathe freely than risk clogging up my regulator with chunks.
At first I sat upright on the edge of the boat, staring at a tower far off on the horizon. I half-jokingly wished a shark would come by so I could jump into its mouth and just end this torture. I tried to keep it together but every five minutes I was hurled over the edge of the boat dry-heaving my organs out. And I’m a loud puker. I was trying my hardest to puke more lady-like, but after about twenty seconds of that I gave up trying to retain any sort of dignity. I was wailing deep hulk-like sounds from the pits of my guts, similar to what I’d imagine an exorcism would be like. I got sick of moving from upright position to bent over, so I found myself hunched over the side permanently, my face only inches from the waves. I cursed some more and gripped my hands into the side so that I didn’t flip over. Finally when I stopped puking for more than three minutes, I slouched down inside the boat and laid there.
Bad idea. Do not lose sight of land. I puked again, this time barely making it over the edge of the boat and right onto a gigantic moon jellyfish. The way it moved my puke to its center convinced me that that sick bastard was having a delicious feast off of my vomit. I puked on it again, then I slouched back down, keeping my head above the ledge just enough to keep my sights on land. Every time a swell would come and make land invisible my stomach would drop for those two seconds.
Not the same jellyfish, but a similar one I found washed up on land. I didn’t get ANY pictures on my dives because 1- you’re not allowed to train with a camera, and 2- I was too sick to care about grabbing my camera on the boat. FAIL.
After what felt like a week and a half, everyone resurfaced. Thank God. They kept asking how I was doing, at which point I didn’t even have enough energy left to respond. I just sat there staring at land, snot and puke remnants running down my face. But I didn’t even care. I’d passed the point of looking like a normal human being around the 10th pile of vomit.
I kept my sights on land for the entire half hour ride back in, quietly mumbling things like “Oh God,” “oh shit,” and “come on Kim,” to ease any more feelings of nausea. Nick tried to raise morale by yelling a big “congratulations to the newest Padi certified diver” in my direction, to which I just raised my hand slightly and zoned right back out. Right then I’d decided that I would never scuba dive again in my entire life.
When we made it back to the dock I couldn’t wait to get out of that boat. I helped carry some gear off and gave it a proper rinse down before going into the shop to be photographed for my certification card. Thankfully they at least let me rinse my face off before posing for the picture.
I’d done it. I left the shop feeling less than enthused or accomplished, but I’d done it. And I’d never have to go scuba diving again.
I went back to the condo and re-hydrated with a few bottles of water and fueled up with a chicken sandwich. Before long I was feeling back to my old self again. I was no longer an immobile waste of whiney space.
And I couldn’t wait to go diving again. This time in calmer waters though.
Sometimes I amaze myself with my process behind booking a trip. Sometimes I plan the hell out of it. Sometimes the planning overwhelms me to the point where I actually get bored with that destination so I randomly go somewhere else at the last minute.
Booking this latest trip was no different.
Lately I’ve been keeping things pretty low-key, only doing a couple of brief domestic trips here and there. I had some bills to catch up on, a new apartment to enjoy, and a scuba certification to complete. But I knew that as soon as 2014 hit I was going to be hopping on a plane.
I welcomed the new year with five rollover vacation days I had to use up in Q1. So since I have a huge, almost sexual obsession with volcanoes, Central America shot to the top of my list. I researched, and researched, and researched, yet nothing felt quite right. Sure I wanted to do it all—exploring rain forests at Arenal, swimming in Lake Atitlan, volcano boarding at Cerro Negro, hiking on Ometepe. But I was also being teased to test out my new diving skills in Belize or Honduras. With the extensive travel time and distances involved trying to squeeze that much activity into a long week, it was proving difficult or more expensive than it seemed worth. Plus I wasn’t ready to settle on “just the rainforest experience” or “just the diving.” So after weeks of endless searching and the February 7th departure date looming closer, I scrapped that whole plan and went all in on another in a matter of hours.
I’m going to the Galápagos Islands from March 28 – April 7.
HELL. FUCKING. YES.
I pushed the date back a bit for several reasons, but mostly just to give myself a little more time to get my shit together and make sure this trip is as awesome as it should be. But on Sunday morning when the idea came to mind, I instantly knew this was where I was going. Further research only solidified this. It has everything I want—volcano hiking (albeit, no lava, but that’s another trip in the works), nice beaches, awesome scuba diving, and an extra bonus: cliff diving. Plus, AWESOME WILDLIFE! Sea lions, blue footed boobies, penguins, flamingos, giant tortoise, iguanas, hammerhead sharks, etc. etc. etc.! And despite what you’re probably thinking, it’s actually very affordable. But more on that later.
So yeah, 72 days until I’m in paradise, wrestling a giant tortoise and diving with sea lions. I’m only half kidding there.
We’re seven days into the new year, and I’ve been sitting idle on the obligatory “New Year’s Resolution” post that most bloggers have posted days—if not weeks—ago.
This year I spent the holidays in the Florida Keys with my parents. Since I worked so many hours during those last few months of 2013, I used that week and a half break in Florida to truly shut down and recharge. Aside from completing my scuba open water certification (more on that puke-ridden catastrophe later), I just enjoyed the warm weather and laid-back family time. I woke up every morning to the sun rising over the Atlantic Ocean right outside my bedroom window. I enjoyed leisurely breakfasts while staring out at dolphins instead of an office computer. I took my time getting ready to do absolutely nothing. I laid on the beach, laid on the couch, and laid back in the passenger seat while island hopping with my mom. And with the sun still setting around 530PM, I found it hard to stay up past 9pm every single night.
It was the most relaxing vacation I’ve had in years, and I loved it.
Now it’s the first full week back to the cold (but thankfully not as cold as my hometown where the wind chill hit -41 today) reality of New York, and trying to figure out life. And now that it’s 2014, rather than have a single resolution I’ve got so many plans and goals that I’m struggling to figure out where to begin. Seriously, it’s like being too ambitious is a disability. When my to-do list gets too overwhelming, I end up watching shitty movies and New Girl reruns and saying to hell with everything else.
So why not procrastinate even more by writing a blog post about them? Maybe this way if I put this list out there I’ll feel obligated to finish it all before 2015.
I apologize for the selfishness (kind of, sort of, not really). This isn’t even a list of resolutions you can make for yourself. Hell I’m not even going to call this a list of resolutions, because it’s simply nothing more than a bunch of “I wants.” (Don’t I sound like a bratty little kid in a toy store?)
MY TEN WANTS FOR 2014 AND BEYOND (in no particular order)
– I want to stop writing solely for my blog and start pitching articles to editors. Hopefully I can land some pieces I’m proud of in some legitimate publications.
– In order to do that, I want to complete my MatadorU travel writing course so that I know how to properly pitch a story. Only nine more chapters to go, so that should only take a couple of months.
– I want to network more and be more engaged with other writers and people who love to travel.
– I want to improve my photography—from snapping photos, to editing, posting, and storing them on my hard drive efficiently.
– I want to finish reading the stack of books I have piled next to my bed.
– I want to maximize my credit card rewards and flyer miles and travel to a lot of far away places. I have 27 vacation days this year, I want to make them count.
– I want to make sure that my five use-em-or-lose-em rollover vacation days don’t go to waste at the end of March.
– I want to begin the transition from full-time office worker to location-independent freelance writer.
– I want to start writing my first novel, so that by the time I’m finally good at it I might actually still be young-ish.
– I want to figure out my next step and move out of New York, but I have no idea where to go. There are so many long and short term plans I’m considering that I can’t decide which are actually feasible. I always thought by now some new opportunity would have pulled me kicking and screaming out of New York. But instead I’m faced with determining my own fate and getting the hell out before this city turns me into a cynical asshole.
I’ve got about twenty more “wants,” but enough about me already. I can only hope that 2014 is a year of growth and change for me. Even making a dent in this list isn’t going to be easy or quick. But hopefully with a little bit of planning, I’ll knock most of these things out to make way for an even better 2015.
Do you have any “wants” for 2014? New Years is the perfect time to be a little selfish, and if I had to make a suggestion, I’d say make sure you do something fulfilling just for you. Take a class, learn a new skill, become certified in something. Maybe there’s even somewhere you’ve always wanted to go, so why not go, even if you have to go alone?
Whatever it is, write it down, set a plan, and do it.
It hardly feels like the middle of December to me. Probably because I haven’t bought a single gift, I haven’t been to any holiday parties, and I’m not packing up for the usual snowy week in Ohio, eating my mom’s Christmas cookies for every meal. Instead I’m gearing up for a sunny vacation in a bathing suit and flip flops.
I’ve somehow convinced my parents to go to the Florida Keys this year for Christmas. Weird considering we haven’t taken a family vacation since I was like twelve, and we’ve had the same Christmas tradition going since before I was born. Florida isn’t anywhere near the top of my places to go list, but I figured the Keys were a good compromise—a place my parents could relax, but I could still do some exploring. Plus, I could take advantage of this super chill vacation as a chance to get scuba certified.
I first looked into diving in 2012 before my trip to Thailand. But I just as quickly realized that the Similan Islands were closed or had poor visibility during the rainy season, so I shelved the whole diving thing. So I finally started the coursework a few weeks ago thinking certification was going to be a piece of cake. I mean, ten-year-olds do this shit. I basically grew up in a pool, I’ve been in the ocean countless times, and I’ve actually found myself bored with snorkeling because I wanted to see more. So scuba diving naturally seemed like a good next step.
As soon as I started reading the book and watching the dvd’s, I realized that it wasn’t just a “quick read” like I thought. Each chapter seemed to reveal something potentially life-threatening about the world of diving, and I began to second guess whether or not I was cut out for it. I’m a very simple-minded person who’s easily distracted, and I often have trouble multitasking. I don’t know how good I’ll be at reading a dive computer, watching my SPG so that my cylinder doesn’t run out of air, maintaining neutral buoyancy, remembering to equalize every few feet, remembering never to hold my breath even if the regulator falls out of my mouth, staying on course and close to my buddy, ascending slowly and making a safety stop, all the while taking in all of the sea life around me and not freaking out and jetting to the surface at the site of a shark.
After finishing the books and dvd, I completed my class which involved four quizzes and one final exam. Of course I was the last one to finish each of those, but I did great. Now it was time to actually practice everything I’d learned in five confined water dives at the YMCA pool.
For my first failure of the day, I wore a two-piece bathing suit. One of our first sans-wetsuit drills was to prove that we can swim 200 meters nonstop, and the whole time I was trying to hold up my bottoms. After a while I got sick of lagging so far behind and just let my blinding white ass hang out, floating above the water for everyone to laugh at as I flailed far behind my classmates.
Through assembling and taking apart our gear several times, I was still feeling pretty confident. Even though the whole setup was crazy heavy, diving was still proving to be relatively easy.
Then it was time to get in the water all geared up and spend the next five and a half hours there. Our instructor walked us through a series of tasks we’d each complete once we were under water, and just like that, we went down for our first set.
Breathing through the regulator was strange at first, but I was still at ease. As long as I could breathe, things were fine.
Then came time for me to remove my mask and continue breathing through the regulator for 30 seconds. Easy, I thought, since I was never the type to plug my nose while swimming. Wrong. I immediately got water up my nose and shot up to the surface. Failure number two. I’d noticed by then that my heart was racing, my eyes were wide, and I was speaking rapidly as I tried to explain myself.
I’d panicked. Just from a little water up my nose.
I had to mentally tell myself to calm the fuck down; I was at the YMCA with a trained professional guiding me for god’s sake. After a few seconds of chatting we realized I may have been tilted slightly backwards, making the bubbles go up my nose. So we went back under and I tried it again, this time tilted slightly forward and I was fine. It was weird, but I did it!
The most important rule in scuba is that you never hold your breath. Ever. So if your regulator comes out of your mouth, you have to keep blowing a constant stream of bubbles until you can get it back in your mouth. We had to practice what to do if you lose your regulator and it falls behind you—swing your arm down to touch your leg, back to touch the tank, circle it around towards you, and your regulator should be there. Of course for me, it wasn’t there because I didn’t reach back far enough. Failure number three. At this point I’d exhausted all of the air in my lungs and I had no clue where my source of oxygen was. I was now holding my breath because I had nothing left to push out and no way of inhaling. All in one go, failure number four and panic attack number two, ten feet below the surface. I began grabbing aimlessly for my regulator, and almost reached for my emergency second stage before the instructor handed me my regulator and I breathed in the most glorious breath of air ever. I felt like a huge idiot. Again. This was becoming a theme.
Then it came time to swim a little more than the length of the deep end, regulator in, while breathing out just one breath and making an “aahhhh” sound. On my first try I only made it about halfway before I had to breathe in. Failure number five. I had to go back and start over. This time I was nervous, cold, and I really had to pee. When he gave me the signal to swim, I whipped the regulator out of my mouth and began swimming. He immediately signaled for me to put my regulator back in, and I thought I did something wrong so I just kept swimming and breathing as usual. He pulled me above water and I realized in my flustered state I wasn’t supposed to remove the regulator. I told him I felt like saying “ahhh” released way too much air from my lungs way too quickly, so he suggested I try making more of a hissing noise. But first he made me take a break at the bottom of the pool while the other people did it flawlessly. I took that chance to calm down, focus on my breathing and my buoyancy, and before you know it, it was my turn again. This time, making the hiss noise, was SO much easier. I could’ve swam twice as far on that one full breathe.
Snorkeling in the British Virgin Islands
All in all, I only inhaled a mouthful of water and choked on it once. But that was once more than anybody else in our class so of course I felt like an idiot. Sure a few things took me a couple of tries, but I got it. And before long I’d passed the confined water dive ahead of schedule.
It’s not that scuba diving is necessarily difficult, but you do actually have to think about every single move you make. Which, well, that’s not really my thing. I just kind of “do,” and somehow it all usually works out. But when I’m under water and I can’t breathe, my body just tends to react. I have to learn how to control that, otherwise I’ll definitely die in any emergency scenario.
I think as far as learning to become a better diver goes, it’s just a matter of trial and error to figure out what comes naturally for me so I can handle these situations in a way that comes naturally to me, rather than trying to remember the textbook way. Hopefully in this case practice makes perfect!
It’s hard to believe this was only the confined dive, in a wave-less pool of 10ft of water. I don’t really know what to expect in next week’s open water dives, but I’ll admit I’m actually a little nervous. I’m also excited to see the underwater world, so I guess this is a good example of stepping out of my comfort zone and (hopefully) accomplishing something I was unsure I could do.
Fingers crossed I don’t end up with the bends, spending Christmas in a decompression chamber!
Travel is a weird thing. Everyone knows what it means, yet it still means something different to everyone.
There’s the overworked people who travel for relaxing getaways, saving money and vacation days all year to splurge at a five-star resort. There’s the fanny-packing, camera-toting, big city tourists who plan every detail of their trip with a guidebook in hand.
There’s the thrifty backpacker who wings it on the cheap, throwing some stuff in a bag, hitting the road, and playing it by ear. There’s those who travel with a mission, whether that’s to volunteer, climb Everest, or just pursue a passion like surfing in a new spot. There’s people who spend years traveling with no physical address to call home, working remotely while jumping from one place to the next.
Then there’s people who, personally I’ll never understand, have zero desire to explore the world outside of their zip code. But those people are irrelevant because I’m convinced they aren’t really people at all.
Kanchanaburi, Thailand
And those are just a few “stereotypes.” Point is, there are tons of reasons to travel and it’s personal to everyone.
For me, I travel to expand my knowledge about this amazing planet, from the people and the cultures to the natural beauty. I know that sounds vague but it’s true in so many ways. I travel to learn more about myself. To wake up in the morning and wander outside of my comfort zone. I travel to remind myself that there’s way more to life than spending every day in an office, and that people all over the world are fascinating beyond comprehension. And I can only hope to one day answer that I also travel to help people in other parts of the world, however that may be.
But without getting too sappy, I also travel to visit friends, eat and drink delicious things, take pictures of pretty places, and blab all about it here in hopes that I inspire others to do the same.
La Boqueria, Barcelona
The funny thing is that growing up in small-town Ohio, my family was actually considered well traveled because we vacationed in Florida every spring and Las Vegas every summer. Hell, when I moved to New York at 21 I thought I had an impressive travel resume even though I had no stamps in my passport. But it quickly became obvious I was nothing more than a sheltered suburban girl whose idea of traveling was limited to domestic hot spots. I met kids whose parents took them on African safaris instead of the local zoo, or whose families had a second vacation home in Paris or Italy. People who studied abroad more than once, or took a gap year in Australia. And here I was, with travel still a privilege and luxury in my mind, and certainly something I couldn’t afford while attending a college that was more than my family’s total combined income.
Somewhere along the line after I graduated that began to change, and I decided to make travel a priority. I’ve started figuring out how to make it work with my life and my income, so that I get the absolute most out of each trip. Yes, I’m still shelling out a few roundtrip flights each month towards student loans and rent, and no, I’m not quite living my dream of getting a paycheck while trekking around the globe with a computer and a backpack. But a girl can dream!
Those three months I spent living in London earlier this year helped me feel like I’d finally caught up. Or have at least come close to catching up. I finally got to visit all of those European cities my classmates went to after high school, and now I’m free to set out for those lesser-known places that REALLY excite me. And if I had the chance to do Thailand all over again, believe me I would. But that was my first big solo international jaunt, booked as a last minute trip during Monsoon season. Of course I missed out on a lot. But you can bet I’ll be going back to Southeast Asia soon enough.
Bristol, England
Anyone can be more than one type of traveler because we all visit new places for different reasons. But, at least in my experience, you’ll always find that some of those trips are more fulfilling than others. While I still enjoy visiting big cities, I no longer find nearly as much satisfaction in skyscrapers as I do visiting remote areas of natural beauty. Plus I’m getting to the point where I don’t necessarily want to travel just for the sake of traveling if I have the opportunity to accomplish something or make an impact there. Unfortunately that’s still a bit difficult to do when you can only get a week or two off work.
So, why do you travel, or what do you find fulfilling when you visit a new place? And what trips are you looking forward to next?
Have you ever visited a place without any prior knowledge or expectations of what it’d be like, only to find yourself planning a disappearing act once you arrive, into this fictional world of happily-ever-after that’s the complete opposite of the life you actually live? That’s what happened to me in Northern Ireland.
After falling in love with Dublin I was curious to see the North since it’s actually part of the UK. We drove through the rain, passing small town after small town before hitting Belfast. The downtown area was bustling, complete with a multi-level shopping center and giant outdoor TVs for passersby to watch soccer on the go. But after driving through some of the mural-covered back roads (which could easily be mistaken for a forgotten, semi-active war zone…or maybe even downtown Detroit) I didn’t have very high hopes for the rest of the day. But holy hell was I wrong.
This was the first time I can remember ever being out in the country and not only enjoying it, but never wanting to leave.
Maybe it’s my love for the friendly/crazy/drunk Irish people and their charming accents, or their flawless alcoholic contributions to the world. Or maybe it was because I was touring the countryside with one of the most fascinating, hilarious people I’d met while living in Europe. Or maybe it was simply because Northern Ireland was truly whimsical and beautiful. Whatever the reasons, this day trip made me feel right at home, longing for a time before cell phones and Facebook.
I kept imagining myself sneaking away at our next pit stop, roaming through the hills with a few meandering sheep before coming across a cute little farmhouse. A burly Irish man with a perfect manly beard and dirty working-man hands would answer the door of course, and invite me in for a pint of Guinness and a glass of Jameson with his seductive accent. Then he’d take me out back to show me the farm and all of the fresh cheese he makes, you know, as a hobby. And just like that, I’d forget all of my concerns for the world I used to know, and I’d live happily ever after on that farm.
Our guide was hilarious, and he knew so much about The Troubles in Northern Ireland. He gave us a brief history in Belfast that could’ve easily spanned an entire middle school semester in History class, including the fact that the Europa Hotel was considered the most-bombed hotel in all of Europe—and the world. For once I actually enjoyed sitting on a bus, looking out the window and listening to his commentary.
On our way to the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge near Ballintoy, our guide got on the speaker and said that he had some bad news. I could tell by the way the bus occasionally jerked over into the other lane that it was something weather and wind related. Then I heard the only words that could’ve ruined that perfect day: the bridge was closed due to gale force winds making it unsafe to cross.
Upon hearing this news I went through a whole myriad of emotions, followed by cursing at the voices in my head, anger-eating chocolate, and praying to the Irish Gods. It all must’ve worked because next thing you know, the winds let up enough for us to safely cross just a couple of hours later. I got some awesome video of the walk across the 66-foot bridge, so more on that later.
The entire area surrounding the Carrick-a-Rede Bridge was nothing but natural beauty. I could see Scotland, and though I knew there were farmhouses just beyond the hills, there were no visible signs of civilization as far as the eye could see. And for a city-dweller, that was awesome.
After my glorious walk across the bridge, we continued on to Giant’s Causeway, a more touristy spot just up the road. Giant’s Causeway is a group of about 40,000 polygonal basalt columns caused by a volcanic eruption. Or as legend explains it, a causeway built by the Irish giant Fionn mac Cumhaill to get over to Scotland to fight the Scottish giant Benandonner.
Clearly the Irish have been hitting the bottle for as long as they’ve been telling stories.
After leaving Giant’s Causeway we drove out to see what’s left of the 13th Century Dunluce Castle.
You wouldn’t even guess from these photos that it was absolutely freezing on that cold March day. The wind was relentless, blasting us like one of those reporters you see standing in the middle of a hurricane while you secretly hope he gets pegged by a cow or a stop sign for his stupidity.
But damn was the scenery beautiful, and totally worth it.
Should you go?
Hell yes. Even if you’re not up for renting a car and making the trek on your own, the day tour I did from Dublin was about 65 Euros, and it helped launch Ireland to the top of my Favorite Places in Europe list. Traveling the coast is nearly orgasmic. Plus the company offers tons of other day trips and adventure courses, so if the rest of their staff is anything like our guide you’ll definitely enjoy yourself.
I want to go back and do an extended hike and a trip to the Cliffs of Moher, so if you need a travel buddy, let’s go!
