Archive for the 'Travel Difficulties' Category

How to be an Ugly American Without Leaving Your Hostel

Theresa March 17th, 2010

1. At a very full hostel, with conversation flowing at over ten packed tables, talk so loudly that your voice carries over the entire place.

2. Be sure to talk about money. Drop a comment about how much money you make, how expensive your apartment is, or the latest and greatest stock tips you have.

3. Tell the girl at your table who speaks English with a different accent than yours that she must be British. When she tells you that she’s German, make a big surprised face and say that well, you could tell that she wasn’t American (as though Americans and Brits are the only people who speak English).

4. Make really bombastic comments that show just how ignorant you are. For example: “The poorest people in the world live in America. Seriously. I mean just check out Harlem.”

5. Throw in a crude comment or two. A good one would be: “Staying in hostels is like a total Catch 22. You meet so many girls. It’s awesome. But at the same time you don’t have any privacy. Argh. What are you to do?”

6. Declare that there’s just no way to blend in as an American so why try. Then continue to be the loud, ignorant, obnoxious American that so many people expect us to be but that so few of us actually are. Someone’s got to keep the stereotype alive after all. Someone’s got to make the rest of us step up our game as we try to prove the stereotype wrong again and again and again.

Pass the Salt Please: Theresa’s Thoughts on 2 Months of Being “Home”

Theresa December 10th, 2009

Yes, friends, it’s been two entire months since our plane touched down in Seattle, putting us back on American soil after 363 days abroad. If I haven’t yet seen you, I apologize. Life back here in the U.S. is busy. Go to the grocery, spend more time than I care to in my car, don’t forget to get gas, run to Target to pick up toilet paper and garbage bags, schedule doctor appointments, figure out insurance options, buy a house. I do a lot of stuff these days. But at the same time I don’t really do anything. Run, run, run, but at the end of the day what can I say that I really did?

Also aside from the couple of old friends we have here in our new home of Durham, North Carolina, I’m  not particularly close to any of you. It’s a four hour drive to see the closest of you, eight hours for the next set, and Lord, across an entire country for the rest of you. Funny how on our trip, we wouldn’t blink at 17 hour bus rides but here a 4 hour drive seems so impossible. Why don’t we get together more? Oh yeah, it’s all those things we have to do around here, the never ending lists of things to accomplish, the need to have everything perfectly planned not decided on a moment’s notice.

And if I haven’t called, well, I’m sorry. I don’t really have an excuse. I want to call, I swear, I want to catch up, but my adversity to the phone has grown so much stronger over the past year. I’m out of practice. It feels so cold and foreign, so impersonal. And I feel so out of touch. Where do I even start?

I have to say that I’m finding coming home to be much harder than leaving. Life, to be honest, feels bland, as if someone forgot to add the salt. Most days I have this feeling that I’m just waiting for something to happen. I don’t know what it is, but I keep feeling like this can’t be it, that there’s got to be something more.

Obviously, I knew it would be hard, be an adjustment, but knowing something and being prepared for it are completely different things. I thought moving to a new place, starting new jobs, meeting new people would be enough to keep the adventure alive, but it’s not. I desperately miss the old version of the to-do list:

  • jump into warm tropical waters and spend an hour 18 meters below the surface among turtles, sharks, fish, octopus, and amazing coral reefs
  • wake up early to try to spot a lion returning from a hunt
  • watch turquoise blue icebergs calve
  • eat all the Asian street food I can handle for less than $5
  • get up close and personal with gorillas
  • give an elephant a bath
  • get a lesson on Buddhism from a monk
  • listen to the Dalai Llama teach
  • and so on and so forth

I’ve never felt so alive as I did when we were on our trip, so in control of my life, so certain that this was exactly what I was meant to be doing. I’ll let Jeff speak for himself, but I don’t think he feels exactly the same as I do. Somehow I married one of the few people in the world who really like what they do. And unfortunately his job is not one that we can take with us on a trip. Just try to take a bunch of cell lines across a border and see what happens. I dare you. So, for at least a few years, we’re going to be stable, and I’m going to have to again find the joy in the ordinary…as well as figure out how to squeeze as many trips into our regular person schedule and our homeowner’s budget as is humanly possible. It’ll take time. That’s what I have to remind myself. And it’ll be okay, I’m certain. Probably even good. Maybe even great, spectacular. Somehow the two of us together usually manage to have a pretty damn good time.

But if Jeff walked in the door tonight and asked if I was ready to go, ready to head out for Round 2 of seeing all the crazy, wonderful, amazing things this world has to offer, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d throw all those same ol’ clothes and same ol’ gadgets in my bag and be out the door, no looking back.

But maybe this time, we’d start our journey with a roadtrip around the country, seeing all of you family and friends that I do truly miss and trying to convince you all to join us, if not for the entire trip, for a month, a fortnight, a week.

And of course, we wouldn’t actually start any of this until December 26, because as much as I want to be back on the road, for Christmas there’s nowhere I want to be but home. Life, I’ve found, is tricky like that.

We’ve Got Answers

Theresa December 7th, 2009

Thanks to all of those who left us questions when we opened up the floor. Here is our attempt at answering. If you’ve thought of something else you want to ask, go ahead and do so. We have received other questions via email, and we plan to answer those in a later installation.

Did you ever have to get medical treatment or even buy medicine?
Only two sicknesses stick out in my mind. On New Year’s Eve 2008, two days before we were to begin our hike to Machu Picchu, I came down with a stomach bug. I first got sick on the flight from Lima to Cuzco, and it didn’t let up the rest of the day. Making it worse, we were in a freezing cold room with a crappy bathroom. It was also pouring rain. And to top it off we had to go to the trekking office to make our final payment. I had to stop about every 20 feet, and at one point, I was so bad off my brother actually offered to carry me. The next day I felt better, but then it returned the next day, our first day on the Inca Trail, when I hurled the second I stood up from the lunch table. Unfortunately, I also passed it on to my brother, who got to learn just how tough he was when he was horribly sick on the hardest (and what turned out to be the coldest and wettest) day of the hike.

The second incident was when Jeff and I both simultaneously came down with what we strongly suspect to have been the swine flu. We were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, which was experiencing a big outbreak of the epidemic at the time. We had all the symptoms–crazy delusion-causing fevers, respiratory issues, horrible aches and pains, and overall yuckiness. I also had the bonus of stomach issues. We were sick for about three days, but there was one night I thought we just might die. I may have actually wished to die because I felt so miserable. Luckily we were able to secure some Tamiflu, which really helped.

Other than that, we were pretty much healthy. Our stomachs also proved to be made of steel as we handled the local food and water with nothing more than a blip of discomfort here and there.

What is the one things that pissed you off the most?
We got annoyed at the fact that most people in the world have no idea what a line is. We got tired of being quoted prices many times higher than they should have been and having to haggle for a fair price. I thought the guy on our Inca Trail hike who didn’t think we needed to tip our guide or the porters was an ass. But I only remember getting really pissed a few times.

Once was when the bus left us, as well as the four other tourists onboard, at the Vietnam-Laos border, forcing us to hunt down and pay for a private mode of transport because it took us too long to get our visas. I actually took the getting left behind in stride; what were we to do? What got us pissed was the company’s refusal to take responsibility or give us any sort of fair compensation.

The second was when my purse was stolen on the train in India. I wished all sorts of evil on him, and if I had had a chance at him, it would not have been pretty.

The third was later on the same day in India, when we saw the reality of the caste system come into play and witnessed the level of inhumanity that so many people live with every day. We haven’t told this story here before, and it would take too long to explain in this post, so check back next week when I’ll tell my Varanasi cycle rickshaw story.

What made you smile the biggest?
I immediately thought of the kids in Africa when I read this question. It’s funny because I wouldn’t say that either of us are huge kid/baby people. Don’t get me wrong, we like them, and might even want our own one day, but we definitely don’t fawn over every one we see. But the kids in Africa were so spirited, so funny, so contagiously in love with life. And they were always so damn thrilled to see us (unless they were absolutely scared to death of us). I still remember turning this corner in Zanzibar and coming across a group of three small kids. As soon as they saw us, they started shrieking “Mzungu! Mzungu! Mzungu!” (what they call white people), jumping up and down, and going absolutely crazy. It was like they’d just won the lottery. Simply amazing. We don’t quite get the same reception around here.

World’s best airline? Worst?
Air Emirates has earned its reputation as a top-tier airline. The seats were comfy and came with individual entertainment systems with tons of options, and food and service was good. We also had a good experience on Air France, getting exit row seats and a choice of approximately 1 zillion movies on our own individual systems.

Air India Express was probably the worst. Our flight was delayed  for 6 hours, and we could get absolutely no information on why or when it might possibly leave. Also, the passengers on this airline were nuts. I think every single person went the bathroom during the flight (which was less than 2 hours), and they made a line all the way down the aisle of the plane. And more than one person actually got up to attempt to go the bathroom as we were landing. We were literally about to put wheels down when they stood up. I know this isn’t directly about the airline, but the flight crew didn’t seem to have much control or influence.

Where in South America should I go?
What a beautiful continent! I’m ready to go back. Go to Patagonia if you want to see natural beauty the likes of which you can’t imagine. Go to the Galapagos because you get to snorkel with seals and penguins and see things you won’t see anywhere else in the world. Go to Buenos Aires to eat steak, ice cream, and wine, be seduced by the tango, marvel at the beautiful people, photograph the architecture, and try to speak their crazy version of Spanish. Go to Machu Picchu because it’s mystical and magical and simply astounding.

You are supposed to go to the dentist every 6 months. Did you?
No. I don’t even like going to the dentist here (though yes, I do it). There was no way we were braving it in some foreign country.

Best thing you ate? Worst thing you ate? Strangest thing you ate?

Best according to Jeff: Coconut Ice Cream with Dulce De Leche (Argentina), Steak (Argentina), Keow Teow Noodles (Laos), Malai Kofta (India), Naan (Amritsar, India)

Best according to Theresa: Steak (Argentina), Cau Lao Noodles (Hoi An, Vietnam), Fresh Fruit Shakes (Asia), Mangoes (Malaysia), Naan (Amritsar, India), Potato Momos (Dharamshala), Omelette with chips and roti (Mbeya, Tnazania). Strangely enough, what I find myself most craving though is gallo pinto, Nicaraguan style basic beans and rice.

Worst: Neither of us cared for the chincheros (fried pork skin) given to us by our host family in Granada. I also have to say we’re not big fans of cassava, or the million other names third-world countries around the globe have for the starchy white stuff that fills the world’s stomach without providing any real nutrition.

Strangest: We didn’t eat bugs or any of the other creepy-crawly-type things that really freak people out. In Africa, we did try ostrich, springbok, kudu, and some other types of wild game. In Asia, I had fish balls, which I actually liked.

What’s your favorite place in the world and why?
Africa, Africa, Africa. If I were to be given another year to travel, I’d immediately hop a plane to Africa, buy me an old 4WD, and spend the entire year exploring the continent. The landscapes were phenomenal, and the people even more so. I felt like our most “authentic” experiences were in Africa, that we experienced it on a more intimate level than most other places. I also have to say that I never, ever, ever got sick of looking out my window and seeing an elephant or zebra or lion or whatever. It’s just simply the most amazing place I’ve ever been.

Internet Access in Africa. Or Why You Haven’t Heard Much From Us Lately

Theresa March 30th, 2009

After our experiences in South America, where we had Internet access almost anywhere at any time (and for free), we began to do what we all know is dangerous: we began to assume. We assumed that we’d have similar luck in Africa. Well, we didn’t think it would be quite as magical as it was in South America; we just also didn’t think it would be quite so difficult, especially in South Africa, the most developed of the countries we’ll visit.

Unfortunately, however, Internet here is not the God-given right that many of us have come to expect. We’ve had Internet access in about half the places we’ve stayed. Or at least we have access to a computer that is supposedly connected to the Internet. Most of the time the computer is so old and so slow, that it’s a miracle if it connects. If it does connect, getting any page to load can take ages. And the kicker here is that you’re paying for it. Internet is not only not ubiquitious, it’s also not free. So while I’m waiting 20 minutes for my Gmail to load, I’m paying for each of those 20 minutes. And it’s not even cheap either, costing $4 or more per hour. So if you haven’t heard from us lately, if you haven’t gotten emails or comments on your blog or a Skype call, you know why. Sorry.

Comparatively, however, checking our email has been easy. Our website that’s another story in itself. I think we’ve successfully got it to load once. We’ve got our Admin site to load a whopping zero times (one, I guess, if this makes it up on the web- Editor’s Note: It didn’t load. The “invisible hand” is back. Let the guessing continue.) The post about our Road Trip you can thank the “invisible hand” for. I had to email it to it and ask it to post it for us.

And the worst part was that even though I had already written the post on our computer waiting for a chance to upload it, I had to rewrite the entire thing in the email I sent the “invisible hand”. You see, wi-fi here is completely unheard of. Apparently, the Internet companies don’t offer a pay by the month plan, but instead charge for the amount of bandwidth you use. Of course, this can add up quickly, so nobody dares open up a wi-fi connection or hook up multiple computers as Lord knows what kind of bill they’d end up with. The bandwidth restrictions also mean no uploading or downloading, so goodbye photos. And Skype, well that’s just a pipedream. Topping it all off is a ban, so far on all the computers we’ve encountered, of putting in your own flash drive or other card to transfer materials from our computer to their computer. So basically we’re back in the early 1990s. Dial-up AOL might be a Godsend at this point!

We still have our fingers crossed that things will get better. We’re hopeful that as we approach Cape Town, we’ll have better luck. In the meantime, we’re still writing, picking out photos, and checking every computer and cafe we come across for an opportunity to upload. So bear with us. And hey, if you’re reading this, it means we ran into at least a little luck, so check back frequently since whenever we do find a way to get online and to our website, we’re going to upload at least a couple of posts.

You Can’t Do It All

Jeff February 20th, 2009

If you look at a map of South America, the bottom half is pretty much Chile and Argentina, and the top half is pretty much Brazil, Bolivia, Venezuela and Colombia with Peru and Ecuador hugging the west coast. Why do I give you this quick little geography lesson? Because when we started our trip, we planned to go to South America. Like, the continent. Not just a few countries within it, not just the south and the western coast. We really intended to go to this northern half of South America. We wanted to spend time on the beaches of Rio, or venture into the Brazilian Amazon. We wanted to climb Roraima in Venezuela. We wanted to go to the Bolivian salt flats and Lake Titicaca.

But we were absolutely crazy to think it all could be done in four months. We’ve been traveling at a steady pace and haven’t even gotten to half of what we planned. In fact, in the four months time we alloted to South America we’ll cover only four countries—Chile, Argentina, Peru, and Ecuador—, and in one of those countries, Peru, we didn’t even manage to make it to many of the places we had wanted, like the Cordillera Blanca, Colca Canyon, and the aformentioned Lake Titicaca.

With just four weeks left now in South America, we can already see the finish line for the South American leg of the trip. For the longest time, we were still trying to figure out how we could fit Bolivia into these four weeks, but in the end, we decided that we weren’t interested in rushing through the country (if that’s even possible on their notoriously bad buses) just to tick places off our list.  Instead we’re spending our time finishing up Ecuador and then heading back to Argentina to visit Buenos Aires, Iguazu and Mendoza (probably everyone else’s first three destinations in Argentina) before heading back to Santiago for a flight out.

So what we’ve done is already begun to plan our return trip (or trips). We’ll come back in the dry season and go through southern Peru and into Bolivia. We’ll dedicate a month or two to Brazil. We’ll do a combined Colombia and Venezuela adventure. We’re not sure when these trips will take place, but the itineraries are already being set.

It always feels like that when we travel, like there’s never enough time to see and do everything you want, and that while you’re enjoying the trip you’re on, you’re already setting the stage for the next trip … and imagining how much easier it will be the second time, how much better you will do it now that you know how things work and the layout of the city and so on and so forth. In reality, however, we still haven’t been back to the same place on vacation twice. There’s always too many new and different places we haven’t visited yet. It’s funny how it works like that.

And though we didn’t “accomplish” everything we set out to do, we’re happy with the way things have worked out. Sure, we might have missed a few things that will have you shaking your head; How could we not have seen Lake Titicaca, the favorite lake of every person in the world? How did we not worship the sun on a Brazilian beach? How did we miss shivering under the stars on the salt flats? We probably would have gasped in horror too before we actually started out on this trip. But since we’ve been going, we’ve learned that travel really is about the journey, that you can’t plan it too carefully (or you can but you have to be okay with it when your plans go up in smoke), that it’s better to enjoy a “wasted” day doing nothing than to miserably spend a day checking off the must-see sites. And, hey, it’s not like we haven’t seen an amazing number of incredible places: Torres del Paine, the Galapagos Islands, the Inca Trail, Perito Moreno glacier … these were priority sites that did not disappoint in the least.

So like I said, we’re not complaining that things didn’t turn out exactly as we thought, we’re just etting you know what our plans are for the next time.

Now we’re traveling

Jeff January 18th, 2009

Things have been going just a bit too smoothly for us so far on this trip. Giving credit where credit is due, a large part of that is due to the voracious consumption of information for planning. I think we all know who is the general driving force behind this. I mean, if you exhaust and explore every possible option from every angle, it’s hard to make the wrong choice too many times. But alas, on our border crossing from Peru to Ecuador, our overpreparation was our greatest weakness.

We were in Huanchaco, a beach town near Trujillo, looking to get across the border. There are two main routes from here, the coastal route via Tumbes, Peru to Machala, Ecuador, widely regarded as a busy, thief infested, scam ridden border crossing, and the inland route through Piura, Peru to Loja, Ecuador, which is much less used, has a direct international through bus, and our guidebook alleges is a much more pleasant experience. Needless to say, it was pretty clear which way we would be heading, especially since we also wanted to visit Vilcabamba, a pleasant gringo-haven town just south of Loja (more on Vilcabamba to come as we are currently here).

So off to Piura we headed on an afternoon bus, complete with a 4 feature Jean Claude Van Damme marathon (in Spanish!). We hoped to then hop on the TransLoja International bus the next morning. Unfortunately, neither we nor our various gold mines of information accounted for unhappy agricultural workers. I mean, I’m sure they’re unhappy, underpaid and overexploited, but do they have to go and close down the highway as their protest?

These striking agricultural workers meant our bus to whisk us across the border was not running, had not run for the previous two days and its status for the next few days depended on the positive resolution of the strike. Everyone assured us this would happen, but as we awoke the next morning and called the bus company, they told us no buses that day. and as the latin cliche goes, maybe a bus would go “manana”.

With the uncertainty of the buses, we decided to take matters into our own hands and to hop a bus to the nearby town of Sullana where collectivo taxis run to the border. Surely these guys would be up on the latest developments or know ways around these wily farmhands.

Arriving at the collectivo stand we quickly learned that yes, the road was still blocked, but yes, there was a way around, it just cost twice as much and took twice as long. Skeptical, I started asking some of the other local passengers waiting just the same and found that (shockingly for all the other “negotiating” we’d done with taxi drivers in the area) we had been told the honest price. While this meant not getting to the border until only a few hours before dark, we eventually filled up a car and headed out. And by filled up a car, I mean eight close friends and luggage in a five passenger station wagon.

So it was with that backstory that we found ourselves bumping along a badly maintained dirt road, clearly anyone’s distant second option for travel. No one was surprised when the car rolled over yet another bump, a strong hissing started, and within 100 yards we were stopped repairing a flat tire. Eight people piled out, several went to urinate (neither of us, for the record, we were preoccupied trying to get dirt out of my eye that had flown in earlier), and the driver set about fixing the tire. Three hours after leaving Sullana, we made it half way to the border (on what is normally an hour and a half trip up the highway). Fortunately, the rest was on the highway, and we found ourselves finishing the trip going a little too fast.

As advertised, the border crossing was a cinch. We were the only ones and everyone was helpful and friendly as we walked to Ecuador (my first border crossing on foot!). On the other side, we got in a taxi to the the town of Mancara, where we hoped to catch a late afternoon bus to Loja for the evening. Unfortunately, the next bus was an overnighter at 11 pm. It was currently 5:30 pm. So, already exhausted from the day’s adventure, we founds some dinner (having not eaten since a morning pastry) and sat around the bus station for five hours as the rain started outside.

Upon leaving the station, we discovered that I had the “wet seat” just below the air hole on the top of the bus. While closed, it sure wasn’t impermeable to water, as a steady drip set in. Fortunately, we found two seats in the back of the bus right next to the toilets (normally the worst seats on a bus, except that night). Even more fortunately, nobody decided they needed to use them during the course of our five hour ride. We passed out as best we could, and got off in Loja at 4:30 in the morning. We found tickets to Vilcabamba at 5:30, slept through that hour ride, and stumbled up to our hotel, where we promptly passed out in hammocks until we were allowed to check in.

Thus went our trip into Ecuador. I hope those farmhands held out for the motherlode.

The Little Things

Theresa January 14th, 2009

Last week when I saw my brother Gregory off at the airport, I felt sad to see him go. But I wasn’t just sad that he was leaving, I also felt a tiny bit jealous, jealous that he was going home.

Don’t get me wrong. I love what we’re doing. We’ve seen phenomenally beautiful places. We’ve meet incredibly friendly people. We’ve had experiences that others dream of. And there are so many more places, people, and experiences ahead of us, and I’m excited about all of them. But after three months on the road, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss home…at least a little bit.

So what do I miss? Well, of course, I miss the big things, like Christmas at home with my family, but mainly I miss the little things. I miss lazy weekends with tuna fish sandwiches, chips, and pickles for lunch and NFL games on the TV all afternoon. I miss getting to gawk at all my newly engaged friends’ rings in person rather than via email. I miss conversations with my coworker Jessica about what we had for dinner last night and what books we’re reading. I miss spicy tuna rolls, chicken salad sandwiches, cooking dinner in a fully-stocked kitchen, and grabbing snacks from a well-stocked refrigerator. I miss driving. I miss random phone calls from friends. I miss having enough underwear to avoid choosing between washing my underwear in the sink or just rewearing them. I miss sleeping in a bed that I know is comfortable and between sheets that I know are clean. I miss being able to get my hair cut without fearing I’ll end up with a mullet, and I miss the occasional good hair day.

Like I said, it’s the little things, the things we normally take for granted, the things that seem basic, regular, normal, that I miss most. Really, I think in the end, on the days when I feel a twinge of homesickness, what I miss most is just that: normality. So right after Gregory left, when I was feeling a bit blue, we did the best thing we could: we lounged around in a fairly comfortable bed, made tuna fish sandwiches for lunch, and watched the NFL on TV. And as excited as I am about the adventures we have coming up in the next few weeks—the Galapagos, am Amazon lodge, and much more—for that one day, I couldn’t have imagined anything better.

A Visitor!

Jeff December 28th, 2008

We’ve been traveling for almost three months now. This means that we’ve spent approximately the last 2000 hours together, with one another being our only consistent support in our grand endeavor. And honestly, while that brings us closer and all that, when you do everything together and see everything together and notice everything together and are removed from the pace of everyday life together, you run out of things to talk about. Everything we take in about the world happens at the same time. Our conversations often amount to “hmm, did you see that, that was weird” … “huh, yeah.” Sure, there’s an awful lot of conversation about what to do next, what we just did, what do you want to eat, and so on. But there’s also a lot of comfortable silence these days.

So I think we’re both a little excited to have someone else to talk to. Get filled in on all the weird little things that make the news. Someone to update me on the football world. Theresa’s brother Greg arrives tonight to join us in exploring Lima, Nazca and Cuzco. Since it’s all got to happen in ten days, it will be a flurry of activity and we may not be terribly active here. Instead, we may be too busy talking.

On Vacation

Jeff November 25th, 2008

We’ve been asked a fair number of times, during the course of dinner at a hostel or speaking with various people around town, whether we’re “on vacation.” Now this is all meant very informally as a social icebreaker of sorts, but frankly, I find that question hard to answer. Almost as hard as the “so where are you from” question. After a five year residency, are we from DC now? Even though we’re not returning there? Is Theresa from Kentucky and I from Seattle? Either way leaves out the explanation for the Texas accent I’ve managed to acquire or why my passport says Sweden. Just answering that question leads to a half hour discussion … which I suppose, in the end, is the point.

Anyway, I digress. This question of vacation comes up a lot. And frankly, my answer is usually, no, we’re traveling. “On vacation,” implies a absolvement of major thought and an indulgance of relaxation. An escape from the busy-ness of life to refresh and renew. And believe me, I do love a good vacation. This, however, is not what we are doing.

We posted awhile back, when this whole plan was somewhat in its infancy, about the comforts of home versus the lure of the open road, so to speak. And what you come to quickly realize is how complicated things become when you don’t have those comforts. At home, you know where you will be sleeping at night. You know you have food in the fridge, or if not, you have solid knowledge of the network of nearby groceries, restaurants and fast food joints ready to serve you, and in addition, your means of getting there. You know how to use your shower, what key goes where to open your house, and whether you should put the toilet paper in the toilet or the trash bin. You have a system for cleaning your clothes, be it your own laundry machine (I yearn for the day I own my first washer and dryer … how simple life will be), or something nearby.

When traveling, none of these things are ever abundantly clear. Life is a neverending series of decisions, often dominated by where do we sleep tonight, what do we eat tonight, and how can I clean my clothes? It’s amazing how much time you can spend on these basic questions, especially when you are as over-analytical as Theresa and I are. Just this morning, we spent almost four hours at the grocery store, with another evening trip tonight (in our defense, we were planning our meals for our five day trip into Torres del Paine starting Thursday).

Now, I don’t want this to seem like a complaint, especially this week, as I truly enjoy every bit of what we are doing. But I do want to draw the distinction between vacation and travel. I think of our traveling as basically, what I do. It’s my “job” for the next year. This is what I put my energy and focus into. This is what I will need a vacation from every once in a while.

Back in the U.S. of A.

Theresa September 30th, 2008

We touched down in D.C. this afternoon and are approaching hour 24 of being awake. I’m hoping to end that streak soon by sinking into bed, so I’m sorry but you won’t be getting much of a coherent post out of us tonight. But as I made the trip back across the pond, I was contemplating the difficulties of traveling across multiple time differences and debating which is worse: traveling east or traveling west.

I decided that for me it’s definitely traveling east. I hate losing my night. I detest red-eyes. I can’t sleep on airplanes, but I’m tired while flying because I’ve usually been up for a full day before boarding the plane, so I’m just pretty much miserable. Then when you land you still have a full day ahead of you, which you have to try to stay awake through if you have any hope of adjusting.

Flying west makes for a long day, but I don’t lose my night…it just gets pushed back. Plus I take off in the morning and so I’m not tired on the plane. I don’t have to try to make myself sleep; I can just pass the time reading, watching movies, etc. And with an afternoon landing, it’s not that many hours until I can hop in bed. Like I said before, I’m a girl who likes her sleep, so that, in the end, is the deciding factor for me.

But I know there are people who disagree with me. So I’m just wondering what you think: is it easier to fly east or west?

Next »