Travel Journaling Will Save You Money

Souvenir.  The impulse to buy something to remember an experience. Or the impulse to buy something because in the moment, that key chain, purse or rock, seems like an excellent idea. Or the impulse to buy what everyone else is buying. Or impulse triggered by abundance – a market filled with painted pottery, a store packed with Hawaiian shirts.  Because it’s there.  Because you cannot get that particular item in the States. Or because you’ve been pestered so consistently it’s worth the money to get rid of the vendor.

Souvenir, in French, means to remember.  On most swept and tended grave markers,  the carved word souvenir is surrounded by candles, flowers, often a favorite toy.

It seems ironic.

Will we be remembered for ourselves or our stuff?  Or are the toys and photos for the living, a gesture to the dead, a shrine, a collection of precious memory triggers.

Of course, all our collected items are precious.  Necessary.  Dusty.

For me, I want it all. But I can’t carry it all, and I can’t just write it all down because doesn’t replace shopping (let’s be clear on that) but journaling has most definitely helped me shop.     

I do reconnaissance work before even boarding a plane.  I read the guide books and ask questions while I’m still in my small house:  What do I need? What do I want, and what will fit in the house?

The next question is, can I satisfy these needs easily, cheerfully and locally and then claim them as trip souvenirs?  Friends of mine scoured Thailand for the perfect garden Buddha, shipped their find to their home in Marin at great expense only to find its twin in a garden shop around the corner.  Can you get an Italian painted vase in San Francisco?

These are good questions to record before you are caught up in the moment or backed into a rug factory holding a glass of hot tea in one hand as you fish out your Visa with the other.   Did a friend suggest the perfect item?  Do you collect certain items?  We used to collect masks until we ran out of wall space.  My mother has created a tiny universe filled with miniature houses and boats she had collected from all over the world – key word – miniature.  After admiring our Indian rug, a friend commented that collecting spoons seemed like a good hobby.

Once you have the Buddha, the rug, and some random spoons, did you discover wonderful must have things that are exclusive to your destination?  The only way to know is to shop ahead.Medieval Japanese Armor

I make a list in my journal of what I have in mind, what I can’t find in my hometown and what would be interesting to possess.   And don’t worry, I am always prepared to pay the price for falling in love. Not that all my love is requited.  We fell in love with a full set of Medieval Armor we spotted at the market in Kyoto on the morning we were leaving the country and didn’t even have enough yen to get back to the hotel let along pay cash for a priceless antique.  We had to leave it where we found it.

Years later we discovered a full set of Medieval Japanese armor on display in Nevada City, which again, just goes to show.

Create a list of what you are interested in, like beautiful bangles from India.  Research the availability, and the cost.  It helps to know the price of what you want, more or less, so you have a place from which to bargain.

Here is where the journal comes in, record what you want and what is a good price and what you are willing to pay.   This will give you a general, very loose, creative kind of budget.  It isn’t necessary to constantly reference your shopping list.  Just writing it down creates consciousness as well as creating the magic of intention.  Additionally, knowledge is power, if you know the price of silk scarves at home, then you’ll better recognize a bargain in Laos.  If you know, really, that you cannot access books by local authors and poets through Amazon, then there will be no guilt shopping the local book stall.

My husband enjoys reminding me that any “bargain” purchased on a trip really costs the price of the trip.  I just as consistency ignore his observation. What I haven’t ignored is the dire need for an internationally understood gesture that says –    I love what you are offering, small boy following us up from the Ganges and dogging us for the last two miles, but I have no more room in my suitcase and your cheap item at 300 rupees actually will cost $25.00 in increased baggage fees.

What can you collect if you have enough stuff?   (Until we moved to a small house – specifically so we could travel more –  I didn’t think there was a such a thing as too much stuff. There is.)

You collect impressions.  Keep shopping. It’s fun, tactile and part of a travel experience.  Touch things, admire things. Now that you have the list of what you want, and how much it should cost, list all the beautiful things you’d buy if neither money nor space  was a consideration.

  • I would buy five hundred bracelets in Jaipur.
  • I would buy ten kimonos just for the feel of the heavy silk.
  • I would buy an enormous purple and red Murano Chandelier.
  • I would buy a room size inlaid red lacquer screen in Vietnam.   
  • I would buy a ten foot long  inlaid marble dining table from Agra
  • I would buy three drawer hand crafted wood dresser  from Hakone
  • I would buy dozens of paintings from that elderly artist in that small town in central China.
  • I would buy Medieval armor.
  • A 68 pound stone head of Green man.
  • The 69 pound stone carving of Tutankhamen.
  • That really big, really yellow vase from Provence.
  • Wine, I would buy a lot of wine

You get the idea.  Write about all the wonderful stuff.  Write about how a full set of armor from Britain would astonish your friends.  Write about it as the bus pulls away from the souk.     

Write about what you would love  to own while your fellow travelers negotiate prices and call in to clear their Visa (on tours there is always a lag at the larger shops while people, possibly not you, are purchasing.  Use the time to write in your journal.)

If you are very fortunate, and I have been fortunate a couple times, you will be traveling with a true shopper. This woman carries an extra suitcase and holds a black belt in bargains.  She is shopping for the holidays, she is shopping for friends and she is wonderful to watch.  Buy her a drink at the end of the day and ask to see her finds.   Take photos, touch, exclaim.  You will get a vicarious thrill and she will get to share with someone who is really interested.   

Describe both her and her stuff for a later story or poem.  Capture the exchange.  And in the end, come home with exactly what you want, exactly what you need: the perfect souvenir.

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Upgrade your work to First Class – Travel Journaling as Memoir

Sponge Bob in AmsterdamLinda Joy Meyers founder of  the National Association of Memoir Writers, has this to say about memoir:

“Writing your story will change you! As you are writing your story, perhaps you already have experienced a shift in perspective about your life, your family, and the events you lived through.  Our stories carry a wisdom we didn’t know we had. Memoir makes its demands on us, pressing us for stories we’ve never written before, leading us to moments and memories as we drop into another time and place. To write a memoir means to wrestle with truth. We are the narrator and witness to the life we’ve lived. Writing a memoir means that we learn how to move through time as we draw upon writing craft to create a world the reader can relate to, a world that brings them into the magic of a story.”

What we create when we write during our travels is a memoir.  Sounds classier and more important than “just making notes about the Great Wall” doesn’t it?   Memoir, essentially, chronicles a short, specific period in your life, if you are lucky, that includes a recognizable narrative arch.  Like what happened during your dream trip to Italy or Iceland.

Memoir requires structure, discovery, and change. Coincidentally, this is often exactly what travel provides.  Travelers ask all the right questions that memoir needs:  who am I?  What to do I want?  Why am I here?  If the answers are:  I am the plus one, I want more gelato and I’m here because the hotel was free, so be it. That is your starting point.

A new place pulls us from our everyday and gives us foreign space, different food different directions, and different stories so our life is not only enhanced, but illuminated against a new sky.

The idea that no matter where you go, there you are, is right. But it’s also right that as soon as you go, as soon as you board the plane, something changes, and you are a little bit new, a little bit altered.

With that in mind, how do you approach your travel memoir?  Write about how  this new place affects the old you.  Do you relate to something, is there something about the light in the streets that remind you of something in the past? Very often, we can’t write about our home in South Dakota  until we start drinking tea in Beijing.

If a place reminds you of another place, why?  What is it about the place?  What appeals and what repels?

I want to think that travel changes me for the better.  One of the many benefits of travel is we are forced to face the world as just us.  We can’t use the  trappings and symbols of the big house to bestow influence, we can’t throw around our   job title to impress, we left behind our expensive clothes and precious jewelry to connote importance.    It’s just you.  Struggling in a different language, dissecting unusual food searching for onions (if you are my son).  It’s just  you and the world, unvarnished and real.

The experience of travel  can become  a path to discovery both externally and internally.  That too is the essence of writing memoir.  How wonderful to combine the two and create stories that even if never published (and most aren’t) instead enhances the trip experiences and in the process, nourishes your soul, something that will last for the rest of your life.   

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Journaling – the New Selfie

Travel journaling is like one long, continuous selfie.

And like wielding a camera, your journaling can be reflexive or reflective.

There is usually a large crowd before popular paintings like the Mona Lisa or Night Watch.  Tourists used to just tour and observe but now it looks like the kind of mob the figures in the painting are charged to prevent.  Tourists block the view as they hold up phones and pose. Selfie sticks block the perfect view.  No one leaves as more and more people push towards the painting.

  Three steps away are a wealth of lesser known  Rembrandts.  Take a picture with one of those faces Night Watch - Amsterdamsince you yourself may be just as lesser known.  Write about how that feels.  Describe the crowd. Describe how you may or may not purchase a postcard of the Night Watch particularly when you know that just down the street stands a life-size sculpture of the Night Watch. There, a person can stand in the middle of the moving men and take better, more interesting selfies.  Or take additional notes.  Or do nothing more than admire it.

One could argue that journaling is, even more, self-absorbed than selfies.  Many of us don’t even share what we write.  Even though sharing is caring.

Sharing is also annoying.

But if you are a millennial you have always, always been in the picture. You were always in the foreground of every family photo and video.  I am rather grateful during the bulk of the boy’s childhood, we consistently forgot we owned a video camera and defaulted to being in the moment in real time.  I don’t know if it worked, but their selfie count is a fraction of their peers.  For which we are grateful.   

To continue the generational idea.  If you are a Xer, or trailing Boomer (those who don’t remember the Vietnam war) you were not raised to be the center of attention at all, in fact, your parents often forgot to pick you up from school.   We of this generation do two things – never forget to pick up our children and often avoid being photographed.  We are not happy with evidence of all the pasta and wine we consumed in Florence.

But journaling!  You can make snarky comments, you can scribble a sketch of the bachelorette party riding the bus, the bride wearing a tiara in the shape of a tiny penis (for her sake, not to scale).  You can take notes describing a young women photographing her friend dressed in a stunning red gown dramatically contrasting against the blinding white marble of the Taj Mahal.  UNESCO as back drop.

The good news is that the selfie boom has increased the general appearance of tourists.  Because everyone is in the picture, everyone looks better. Young women  stagger through national parks in high heels,   refresh their lipstick for the Eiffel Tower climb and lacquer their hair against the fog at the Cliffs of Mohr.   

My mother has expanded on the childhood mandate that she should be seen and not heard and is now both.   I have hundreds of photos of her in the foreground and beautiful places like  Croatia in the background.  But she doesn’t take her own photos, I do.  I am her photographer.  I’m so busy with her that there is no time for me. An old story, an established metaphor.

Between mom and all the adorable children bludgeoning surrounding tourists with selfie sticks,  there are enough portraits in the world. But there isn’t enough time.

You may be like me. When I travel, I want to see as much as I can in the time allowed.   I do not want to waste an hour or more of every morning wrestling with my hair,  complaining about the hair drying speed, unearthing a cute new outfit and ironing it, and applying make up because we are taking a picture over breakfast this morning. Forget me, there is so much to see, so much to capture and record.  I already know what I look like.   

To travel is to be busy.  To travel is to look like you look, not create that idealized version of yourself.   To travel is to make a pact with your fellow travelers that every day is a bad hair day and every day we get a free appearance pass.  My husband and I spent a spontaneous weekend in Chicago (not paid for by United, we were on our own for that 48-hour  layover) with no luggage. Chicago was fascinating, beautiful, exciting and by advanced agreement, all the photos are of Chicago, none of me.

I want to look out.  I want to write and remember, not how I look, but how I felt, what I saw and what others look like.

The journal is your selfie, you narcissistic, opinionated, nasty, wondrous, selfie.  Smaller than the additional luggage needed for costume changes, faster than full makeup very morning of a trip, and while I wield my journal, I hardly ever smack a fellow tourist over the head.

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Injury Free Photo Sharing – What to do when no one wants to see your travel photos

My journal is the only space that patiently listens to every detail of my travels.  Every. Detail.  I need my journal because no one else cares.  Not my family, not my friends and not my traveling companions.  Especially not my travel companions.

It is reasonable then, to reach out to acquaintances and distant relatives who have not traveled with me and share all that I know and experienced.

But they too.

Do. Not. Care.

Unless your best friend has just returned from the same country. Unless your children just lost their phones, unless you want your dinner guests to leave early, you are sharing SOL.

That’s okay.

My Great Aunt and Uncle and Grandparents lived in our town.  Both couples traveled after their retired.   The two couples did not travel together, they didn’t like each other very well, they had nothing in common really.  Except for travel, the method of which they disagreed, and photos. Both couples took many, many photos.  On film.  To make slides.

To share.

When my great aunt and uncle returned from their incredible safari in Africa, we were treated to 5 carousels of slides documenting every step of the trip: the lions, the tigers, the elephants, the lions.  Not to be outdone, my grandparents showed us 6 and a half carousels of slides (each carousel holds 100 slides).  I exaggerate, the personal land speed record for slide shows to narcoleptic children is 700 slides.  My father exited these marathons uttering a single word: edit.

My brother and I would squint at the photo of the 47th  lion and wonder, is that the same lion? Is there an official lion supported by the Nairobi government that poses for the bus loads of tourists?  Because she LOOKS like the same lion we saw at our Great Aunt’s house last Sunday.  That even looks like the same tree.

After a safari in India, I find the idea of a  single, well fed, paid off lion, very easy to believe.

Arrowhead, tiger in India

Arrowhead, a well-compensated tiger.

But that’s another story. This story is about editing and sharing.    Not since those epic nights has anyone shared their photos with me and  I have not shared with them.  “Want to see slides of our trip?” is my trigger phrase.

Back to you.

Let’s say you retired early, and you finally get to travel.  And that is more than fantastic, it’s amazing. You are suddenly footloose and free and now can’t get the song out of your head.  You and your loved one can embark on one long honeymoon.  You can even travel off season to save money, or shoulder season to save money but have some sun. You don’t need to travel in August when northern Europe empties into the South.  You circumvent the crowds, you dodge the heat, you miss the lines,  you are the queen of all your survey.

Of course you are excited. And it’s only natural   you want to share

But your enthusiasm will be met with rather blank stares.

You want to talk about Paris but your friends are all hot to discuss their latest dental work.

Or all they want is for your to reinforce their own prejudice.  When I returned from India, the only question was – what about all the poverty?  Well, I replied, it’s not like Flint Michigan, where it’s all so depressing and dark that you want to kill yourself.  It’s more like happy, dirty, there is a pig rooting around in the garbage, but he’s a fat pig, poverty.  Completely different.  The woman with the question did not believe me and returned to her rant based on what she learned watching  Slum Dog Millionaire.

Or you want to share how emotional it was to again stand in awe before Matisse – The Dessert: Harmony in Red, a  painting you first saw when it was on loan in Venice back in the 80s and you happened to BE in Venice in the 80s. The painting was amazing then, and it was fantastic now.  And the white nights of St Petersburg!  Your husband’s second cousin instead asks about the food on the flight and doesn’t wait for the answer before being lured away by the bacon wrapped bacon.

  Here’s what I do.

I put together a collection of highlights from the latest trip on my phone. I label it favorites or highlights –  favorites help, mark the best photos with hearts and categorize them that way.

When someone who knows a little more about travel than your husband’s second cousin, and really does ask  to see photos (everyone says they want to see your photos, they don’t mean it, they are being polite)  hand them the phone, let them scroll through at their own pace, keep talking about something else.

If the viewer is paying attention, they will pause at a photo, show you the phone screen and say, what the hell is that?

You will answer, they will return to scrolling.

How to you describe all that fabulous stuff? All that wonder and joy? How do you keep up with the pace of their swiping?

From your journals pick a couple of stories. Tell the stories while your new best friend scrolls and in about 15 minutes you’ll be all finished with both the stories and their tolerance for viewing photos that don’t feature them.

If you are on Social, post on Instagram and connect that account to Facebook, post a couple of times during the trip so friends can say, oh yeah, I saw your trip on Facebook. Now you can tell them about the amazing lion who has been draped on this tree branch since 1972.   

Share with me –  Join our Facebook group – Travel/Write and we will listen to your story.  And look at your photos.

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To Tour or not to Tour, that is the Troubling Question

Everyone likes to dis tours. Tours were for lesser, less adventurous, less intelligent tourists.  We were travelers armed with AAA maps and   Fodor’s $5.00-$10.00- $50.00-Never Mind, a Day.    

Tours were for those who didn’t know what they were doing, or why.  Tours were restrictive, crowded, uninspiring and boring.  Tours diluted the foreign experience by isolating you with your own kind on a big bus. Tour food was bland and catered to the lowest common taste bud.

We do not tour.  My mother didn’t even tour with her mother – apparently travel by enormous cruise ship that empties a thousand American’ tourists into port experiences catering to Americans tourists fresh off the cruise boat is completely different.   

Tours were out.  Until my mother lost both her favorite travel companion, my father as well as her travel bete noire, her mother. Until she wanted to travel to Egypt.

At the time – about 15 years ago, a woman could not comfortably travel

Luxor, Egypt

Luxor

through Egypt without the protection and the organization of a tour.  It was a scary first time for both of us.  Not Egypt, the damn tour.   

We chose  Overseas Adventure Travel, I don’t even remember why except the price was probably right for what we got.  It always is.

Mom still brought maps and ideas but we did not pack   Fodor’s Egypt on $100 a Day.  Instead we clutched a copy of our pre-determined schedule and hoped we could endure the experience of bus rides that were necessary if you wanted to see the Valley of the Kings.    

There were a couple of features of a tour that dramatically differed from doing it yourself

Before-  Landing

Back in the day when we did it ourselves, we landed in London. My parents gathered the luggage, yelled at my brother and I to not wander around Heathrow and with much debate shuffled us all towards the car rental parking lot.   Because we are driving in London.  I remember my dad experimenting with the left hand gear shift while telling us he didn’t care if we were hungry.  Mom found the dot on a complicated London A to Z map and announced it shouldn’t be long.

I don’t remember being particularly terrified.  I should have been.   A car in London is a terrible idea. Clearly, we survived.

After –  Landing

We disembark in Cairo.  The airport is crowded and disorienting.  Streets even more so.  I keep an eye on mom so she doesn’t wander off searching for a restroom. Instead of dragging to three successive information booths to learn where to pick up a car that may or may not be a good idea, we are greeted by a professional guide holding an easy to recognize sign.

The guide escorts mom to the restroom.

The guide fetches the rest of our luggage, she walks us to a waiting bus. The bus driver already knows the route to our hotel.  In fact, the hotel is already taken care of, which is an ordinary thing on paper at home, it is a bloody miracle on your first day in a foreign country.

So when you descend the  switch back single lane road out of the mountains and down to the planes of Thermopylae in a big bus praying to whatever god strikes your fancy (in Greece there are still many to choose from: worship Mary if someone you loved did not survive the road down to Thermopylae, St Christopher if you did)  you can take comfort that your husband is not driving and your mother is not helping

Before – Getting Around

Even with Siri, even with GPS, even with a map, you can become terribly lost.  Or worse.  A best friend was guiding the rental car up in the hill towns in Spain and the GPS voice told him to turn left, and he did, and the car got stuck between the two narrow stone walls.  Trashed the car.   

Yes, if you drive or take the train, you can control the journey.  Take the road less traveled (which may or may not end up deep in sugar cane field), turn at the sign promising a castle (it did, it was amazing), and enjoy the day meandering up and down lush green hills.  You can also spend the day on a highway with unmarked exits, with your partner bringing up old grievances at the exact time the GPS delivered crucial directions.

After – Getting Around

On a tour there is limited opportunity to get lost.  However, if you are traveling on a time budget, it is worth the money to get where you want to go and back as efficiently as possible so you can spend the maximum time viewing the thing you came to see.  The bonus of the bus and of not having to worry about navigating the roads  is you can write about the monuments and experiences immediately after viewing them. And you don’t need to tell anyone where to go, either physically or metaphorically.

Before – Sleeping

You may already know to book a hotel room for the first night of your trip. You already know that the mind-set for such a hotel and first night is that it will be the most expensive hotel and dinner of the whole trip because you had no time to explore the area  and figure out the cheaper options.  As long as you can get to the hotel – from the air terminal, to a water taxi, to the dock, dragging the luggage over the cobblestones and discovering the right hotel a second before a storm. As long as you do that, you’ll be good.

After the first comfortable night, each day of the trip is spent either finding the right hotel, or finding the hotel  or AirB & B you reserved but doesn’t seem to be located at the published address.  Again, with our maps and phones, it’s not as difficult as it used to be.  But the search, discovery, moving the luggage, all the  pieces, chew up sightseeing  time.

After – Sleeping

Flam, Norway

From the Flam Railway

Tours often book far more beautiful and well-located hotels than you could afford on your own.   We know.  We tried.  We priced a trip to Norway a la carte so to speak and the cost was prohibitive.  We gave up and booked the same countries (Norway, Finland, Denmark and st. Petersburg)  with Grand Circle Tours (which is different from an OAT and I will discuss that if you’d like). With the tour, we enjoyed five star hotels, a cruise that offered caviar for breakfast and the perfect ride on the Flam Railway   We had more time to enjoy – in this case – the stunning fjords and views and less time worrying about where we’d sleep that night.

Don’t care about hotels?

Wait a few years, you will.

Travelers have always hired guides. How else can you know what you are seeing?  How else can you get around in the best, and for many of us, most efficient manner possible?

I took comfort that if Herodotus, one of the first travel writers, needed a guide in Egypt (who by the way, told his Greek tourist that the hieroglyphs on the top of the pyramids were a list of foods, which Herodotus dutifully wrote down.  It wasn’t true, but even in 550 BC no one could read hieroglyphs), then we could too. And so can you.

Have a story about travel and writing?   Join us on Facebook –  Travel/Write, I also post on Pinterest, follow the Travel/Write board.

Get a pen and a plane ticket and write!

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Why Egypt – What Inspires Travel

Rickshaw in Luxor, EgyptMy Grandmother died Christmas Day. Some would say, finally.  She herself would say, finally.  With grandmother’s death, my mother was mysteriously free.  She immediately booked a trip to Egypt for March – three months away.

There was no good way for Western women to travel in this Muslim country without a tour, without the protection of a group and frankly a male leading the group. So we booked with a great deal of trepidation and consternation, a tour.   

Mom, who spent ten years traveling with Dad making travel films and touring them  (in the late 80s early 90s, they hit this business  at exactly the right time.  Now it’s all video of course)

considered tours anathema. Tours were terrible, restrictive, crowded, uninspiring and boring.  Tours were not the way a real traveler worked through the world.

But if you want Egypt, you must travel with a tour.

Sphinx, Cairo, EgyptWhy Egypt?  Why not Disneyworld?

Elizabeth Peters that’s why.

Starting with The Crocodile on the Sandbank, we read and collected all 19 books in a series that followed 19th Century archaeologist  Amelia Peabody and her husband through excavating and adventuring through Egypt.   The author herself holds a Ph.D. in Egyptology and knows what she’s talking about.

We loved the books, and we were mad to see the tombs, the pyramids, Shepards Hotel (which had burned to the ground, so we had to make due)  the dusty Cairo museum (which did not disappoint, it is dusty and as cluttered as it probably was in the 1800s).  We wanted to see it all.

And we could.

That was another thing.

We could.  Again, I give my mother some credit, her motto is travel to unstable countries when they are stable.  This from a woman who traveled through Spain during Franco and doesn’t remember seeing the Sagria Familia, which makes sense as at the time, the cathedral was closed and in disrepair.

So, peace in Egypt, relative stability.

Luxor Temple, Egypt

We went.

What books inspired your travels?  What films locations did you want to see with your own eyes?  It’s the start, these films and books, and the more you read, the more you know, the more exciting and interesting the trip will be.

Promise.

Follow me for more random comments about travel and writing and how to do both successfully.  For no other reason that it will make your life that much more interesting.

Join the group!  Join us on Travel/Write on Facebook, post your writing photos and inspirations.  Nothing celebrates travel like more travel!

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Travel/Write – Why Write While Traveling

For writers who travel and love to write.

Mom at a temple in India

Mom, avoiding the trampling elephants

Travel writing sounds so glamorous; get paid to see legendary places, sample unusual food, sleep in exotic hotels, all on a magazine’s expense account.  Wow right?  Except there are maybe four writers who get to work that way.  The majority of travel writers pay for their trips, write up the experience and work hard to publish those articles on a blog, newspaper or magazine and often receive about  $1,000 for their efforts.   So why bother?

Because Travel and Writing are in your blood and your blood is made of part oxygen, part helium, and part ink. Like all obsessive hobbies, writing about travel is pointless, costly and fun as hell – it can be found listed in the same category as water skiing, sky diving, or gourmet cooking, there is no why there is just expensive equipment.  The goal and you hope, ultimate outcome, is huge, massive satisfaction rather than any product.   Often my only takeaway after three weeks in a foreign country is a small ceramic elephant and a clutch of poorly rendered postcards.  And it’s all worth it.   

Travel will extend your year and extend your life, not those crappy years at the end, but next week.  Spent on foreign soil, next week will last much longer than usual.

But you know all this. There are blogs and blogs and blogs about the joy of travel: climbing Mt. Everest, hiking through North Korea, building schools in Afghanistan.  You can find all those missives, read them, believe them or not.

I love that travel is not a competitive sport. I don’t need to have a count or see “more” than another traveler.  I don’t need to stand in 100 countries.  In fact, that 100 country contest?  I actually counted the countries I did want to visit and arrived at 80.  What countries of you want to visit?  Five?  Ten?  Travel to where you want, not to rack up a number, because no one cares.  Most travelers will not ask your score.

For me, part of the adventure, of you can call it that, is traveling with my elderly mother.  ( I get to call her elderly because it’s my blog).  At 81, mom is no hiker.  She walks like one of those wind-up toys that teeter along,  half step after half step eventually falling off the edge of the coffee table.  So scaling Kilimanjaro is out.

But ushering her across the streets in  Mumbai was pretty damn exciting.

I know it was exciting because I made a note in my journal –  almost killed mom today.    I don’t edit while writing, but I do edit and editorialize on behalf of the blog or in telling the story to friends. With each telling, the traffic becomes denser, the street wider and mom slower.  It’s my story and I’ll enhance if I want to.

What about you?  You may be traveling this summer, do you think you’d like to write down some impressions, take a few notes, write up the draft for a poem that includes the bright summer sky, three new birds and your elderly parent?

All you need is a notebook. (See, this activity is already cheaper than base jumping).

Yes, you can make notes on your phone. Of course, you can.  When I pass by one of you doing this, hunched over, studious chimping away at the world’s smallest keyboard using just your opposable thumbs, I am amazed, impressed and can’t help note that more time is spent figuring out the keyboard and checking that the notes are correct rather than enjoying the surroundings.

Look up (especially if you’re writing about birds).

Bring the phone, but also bring a notebook.  Notebooks free you from the distraction of technology and encourage spontaneity.  Plus, no roaming fees. A good travel notebook is large enough for ephemera:  tickets stubs, postcards, coasters, business cards from the hotel, and small enough to fit in a pocket or purse.  Ideally, you can carry your notebook while wandering through a museum or sitting at a tiny cafe table.   

Don’t spend too much money on a fancy notebook,  it will just terrify you, you won’t want to deface it with your pen.

Pens, don’t assume pens. Take the pens you love and take more than just that one.  As soon as you think, oh, I’ll just pick up a pen at the airport or I’m sure there are pens available in Albania, there won’t be.  Take four or so, and scattered them through your luggage because a cluster of pens rubber banded together makes TSA personnel nervous.

Take a backup notebook.  Sure you found the perfect one, but just in case, throw another into the bottom of your suitcase, that way you won’t restrain your writing just because you have three pages to the end of the notebook, but four days left on the trip.

Should you aspire to create a Pinterest-worthy notebook?  Nope. I follow those boards and am amazed and impressed with the level of talent and creativity scuttling around the world.  I collect them on my travel/write board, but I cannot do it myself. Journals are filled with perfect square writing and elegant watercolors.  Stunning works of art. Impressive, impossible.

If you are worried about your mother pitching off the end of the felucca, you won’t have much time or bandwidth for stunning and beautiful.

But you will have time for notes and impressions.  Embrace the messy notebook, revel in creating something that will never be ready for its close-up.  The fun of a notebook is making the notes. Write a poem around the paper napkin filched from the trendy restaurant.  Make a couple of notes in your lap while your travel partners finish their coffee.

Record the sound of a bird, describe a tree.  Travel.  Write.

And join us on Facebook – Travel/Write.  A group of unrepentant writers and travelers.

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