Monthly Archives

April 2011

10 essential character traits for long-term travelers

April 12, 2011

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.

I had no idea what any of this was … until I ate it.

 

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.

Respect the local customs.

 

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.

Syed helped me send a package in India.

 

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.

Ah, a refreshing 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.

You will also have to be patient when your rise gets a flat tire.
You will also have to be patient when your ride gets a flat tire.

 

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.

Francoise held the umbrella.

 

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.

Even the mannequins don’t know which way to go in Ethiopia.

 

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.

This family in Mysore, India, treated me like one of their own.

 

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.

I didn’t even know the island of Taquile existed until I stayed there.

 

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.

Also: Must love monkeys.

 

Say wat?

April 10, 2011

I spent my first full day in Chiang Mai, Thailand, wandering aimlessly around town on foot, popping into random wats.

Like this.

Big, old wat.

 

And this.

Wooden wat.

 

And this.

Gilded wat.

 

Along the way, I saw a few things I’ve never seen inside temples before. For instance, the tree trunks were covered with nuggets of bumper sticker wisdom.

My ugly mug agrees with this.

 

A TV crew filming in the temple. What made it surreal is that the crew sent the actual praying people out of the temple and brought in some fake ones.

Cut! That prostration needs work.

 

Bottled temple water.

Like Evian, but with enlightenment.

 

A magical coin-operated blessing machine.

My wish was to be big.

 

Another one, but sadder.

This one gave me a blessing. I think. It was in Thai, so who knows?

 

And finally, monk keychains.

You can’t see the cardboard on top of the packaging in this photo, but they all say “Fashion” — because monks are known for their fashion sense.

Collect them all!

 

 

Living at the ashram

April 5, 2011

I was incredibly nervous before I arrived at Sivananda ashram near Trivandrum, India.

Seriously. The ashram costs just $11 per day, which includes room, board and a full day of yoga, meditation and chanting activities, so I wasn’t expecting much.

I imagined myself sleeping on a bamboo mat in a cockroach-infested shanty, eating gruel and pooping in a hole.

So it was such a pleasant surprise to walk down the cobblestone path and see Lakshmi, the women’s dorm where I would be staying for a week.

There are something like 36 beds per floor, and each one is arranged cubicle-style. Everyone at the ashram also receives sheets, a pillow and a mosquito net.

This was my house.

Some girls were very untidy.

And some were remarkably neat.

Finally, a few others turned the space into something entirely unique — like this mini artist studio.

 

Becoming a yogi

April 3, 2011

Checking into an ashram in India was one of the scariest leaps of faith I’ve ever made, but it turned out to be one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to stay longer.

Sivananda is located about 30 kilometers outside of Trivandrum, in the southern part of India. Before I went, some people told me it was a prison — no drinking! no smoking! no drugs! no sex! no fun! — but I also heard enough good things to make me want to go anyway.

The ashram is situated on the edge of a jungle near an elephant sanctuary and a home for lions. Sometimes when it’s incredibly quiet, like during morning meditation, I could hear the animals waking up and making noise.

This is where my life changed forever.

 

I lived in a dorm with about 70 other women, just one of many simple dorms on the ashram campus. The buildings were clean, but sparse. Shoes are removed before entering any building.

Flip-flops galore! This is how you know a yoga class is going on.

 

We were given two meals a day — breakfast at 10 a.m. and dinner at 6 p.m. We filed into the dining hall individually while chanting, then squatted on bamboo mats on the floor. Our dinner plates were gigantic aluminum trays divided into sections, school cafeteria style. The food is all sattvic, which means no meat, fish, garlic, onion or spice. Still, it was all surprisingly delicious. Typical meals include chapatti bread, dal (lentil soup), and salad made from shredded beets and carrots. Volunteers walk around with food buckets and serve up as much as you want.

Everybody eats in silence, which is supposed to help with digestion. That was probably the biggest thing for me to get used to, since I love to talk while I eat — something I never realized until I was forced to have quiet time.

There are no utensils, so everyone eats with their right hands. The left hand is reserved for bathroom stuff, since there is also no toilet paper.

Each day begins with a wake-up bell at 5:30 a.m., followed by chanting and meditation in the temple. The rest of the day adheres to a strict schedule of tea time, yoga classes, more chanting, a lecture and more yoga, chanting and meditation. Lights are off each night by 10:30 p.m.

The rooftop space where we had intermediate yoga classes.

 

Om shanti.
No, they didn’t drink the Kool-Aid. There’s a yoga class going on in there.

 

Each person at the ashram also has mandatory karma yoga, which is volunteer work done on site. Some folks emptied the garbage bins, some scrubbed floors. I was assigned to work in the internet cafe for an hour each day. (Hey, yogis are pretty modern!)

Becoming a yogi is very hard work.

 

I don’t have enough words to describe how moving and meaningful it was to stay at the ashram. I enjoyed the discipline of it, and it was strangely liberating to have all choice removed from my day. I was told when to wake up, where to go, what to do and when to sleep. After months of travel, where I’ve had endless decisions to make, it was a relief to turn that off for a while.

What he said.

 

Above all, it was peaceful and quiet. For the first time, I felt like I was actively working on becoming a better human being — and ultimately, that’s the whole point.

Moral of the story: Do more yoga.

 

PHOTOS: Kids of India

April 2, 2011

I’m a sucker for kids everywhere, and I love photographing them as I travel. Unfortunately, I feel incredibly awkward taking a photo of children unless I have permission, so I never end up capturing as many images as I’d like.

Here are just a few of the children I met during my month in India.

This boy approached me in Hampi, asking for a “country coin.” He lucked out. I gave him a U.S. quarter, an Argentinian peso, five Bolivianos and a stack of Ethiopian birr.

These little guys were bored as hell at a parade in Panaji.
Same parade. This kid’s mask creeps me out.
On our ashram field trip to Kanyakumai, a few of us girls found an abandoned school where we could change into our bikinis. One of my friends was standing directly behind me here, trying in vain to shield herself, as these children walked into the room.
Beautiful little boy in Hampi.
These girls are so gorgeous, aren’t they? They were sitting outside of the Monkey Temple in Hampi, looking so peaceful and calm despite the overbearing heat.