Thursday, May 17, 2012
Leaving
I always assumed that by the time the two years was up that I would be sick of the city, missing home, ready to leave. The truth is, I've been pushing myself to mentally disconnect myself from London for about six months now but the closer I get to my deadline, the less I want to leave. I feel like I've been here forever, this is my home. Now I have to ship everything back to New Zealand or get rid of it. I made a list of things I have to do before leaving London, like taking a ride on the London Eye, going to Kew Gardens and standing ontop of Parliament Hill for the last time. It all seems grossly unfair.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
The price of adventure
When I was 20 years old, for ten months I saved up every paycheck I had from my restaurant job and went to Los Angeles and New York City for two weeks. After ten years of watching Home Alone (where Kevin goes to New York), My Girl 2 (where Vaida goes to L.A) and reading the Sweet Valley High series (the quintessential American Dream) I had never wanted anything in my life as much as I wanted to go to New York and California. A bit like a kid who saves all his pocket money for the latest toy, I saved all my money, not realising that budget travel was an option.
I stayed in some seriously expensive places.
Recognise this?
If your an Eagles fan, it's Hotel California, the pink palace that graces the cover of one of their most famous records, circa 1970. In reality, this is the Beverly Hills Hotel. Past guests include Marlene Dietrich, Elizabeth Taylor and Marilyn Monroe. I stayed there in 2008 for three days at the price (after receiving a promotional discount) of $300 American dollars per night. I ordered room service every night and lazed by the pool during the day. I tipped everybody. I felt like Macauley Culkin in Home Alone. The world was my oyster.
Beautiful huh?
Fast forward five years and this is the likes of where I stay these days...
But you know what, it's okay really.
A fellow traveller recently wrote of the FOMO syndrome. Fear of missing out is basically what happens when you start to research your destination and realise that you must, quite literally, do everything. If you don't do everything, you will Miss Out. I have yet to discover what happens when you Miss Out, but I'm sure it must be bad. Therefore, as far as budgets go, numbers are crunched together so tightly so as to ensure the lengthiness of one's trip. $1000 spent on accommodation five years ago is an extra month backpacking through South America.
It would be easy to look at my before pictures and feel resentful when comparing them to my after. But I've discovered the contrary, travelling as a backpacker is the only way to see any country. When you have to take the bus or the train you come face to face with the locals. You see how tired they are, what time they are getting home from work, where they shop. You get a glimpse into the mundane of their life. When you cook every night you shop at the supermarket and buy the brands that mothers buy for their families. When you are searching for the cheapest street food possible, you discover the winding backstreets of giant metropolises where graffiti artists perfect their art and the locals hang out their washing.
When you are driven to your resort in a taxi and eat at the hotel restaurant, what do you think you are seeing? What are you learning? The answer is nothing. Your comfort zone has not been violated, you haven't smelt the fog or the tar of a hot, sweaty city. You haven't drunk with the barman and found out how he knows six different languages or why he has a lazy eye. You haven't happened upon amazing artisan markets or seen the blood on the streets. You haven't felt the fear of not knowing what is happening, or the panic of getting lost. You haven't seen the life, or the soul. You haven't any stories.
This afternoon, after reading the blog of a European couple who took a year out from their jobs to travel the globe (Africa, Asia, South and Central America and Australasia) my opinion was instantly validated. They went to New Zealand. Adventure capital of the world. Doesn't everybody love New Zealand? It's so beautiful. I'm constantly being told what an amazing country I'm from and being asked to explain why I decided to leave. Here is why.
"...(New Zealand) leaves little room for surprises and eventually this is what we started to miss...At our previous destinations just walking down the street usually brought about a funny or exciting moment, something new or exotic! In New Zealand, excitement has turned into big business with over-abundant activities ... What blew our minds were the tons of brightly coloured free brochures that can be found in every hostel, cafe, tourist information. Tourism is so professionally marketed here and right in your face that we look back to travelling Latin America with nostalgia..."
Moral of the story? You can buy a plane ticket, you can buy a backpack, you can stay wherever you like and see what you like, but money aint going to buy you the smell of an Italian pizzeria, the heat of cobbled streets on your sandals, the sound of sirens or the quiet of a silent passenger train gliding through Provence.
I stayed in some seriously expensive places.
Recognise this?
If your an Eagles fan, it's Hotel California, the pink palace that graces the cover of one of their most famous records, circa 1970. In reality, this is the Beverly Hills Hotel. Past guests include Marlene Dietrich, Elizabeth Taylor and Marilyn Monroe. I stayed there in 2008 for three days at the price (after receiving a promotional discount) of $300 American dollars per night. I ordered room service every night and lazed by the pool during the day. I tipped everybody. I felt like Macauley Culkin in Home Alone. The world was my oyster.
 |
| Housekeeping came everyday and organised my Disneyland souviners |
 |
| The famous pool |
Beautiful huh?
Fast forward five years and this is the likes of where I stay these days...
 |
| Kate making the bed at our hostel in Russia |
But you know what, it's okay really.
A fellow traveller recently wrote of the FOMO syndrome. Fear of missing out is basically what happens when you start to research your destination and realise that you must, quite literally, do everything. If you don't do everything, you will Miss Out. I have yet to discover what happens when you Miss Out, but I'm sure it must be bad. Therefore, as far as budgets go, numbers are crunched together so tightly so as to ensure the lengthiness of one's trip. $1000 spent on accommodation five years ago is an extra month backpacking through South America.
It would be easy to look at my before pictures and feel resentful when comparing them to my after. But I've discovered the contrary, travelling as a backpacker is the only way to see any country. When you have to take the bus or the train you come face to face with the locals. You see how tired they are, what time they are getting home from work, where they shop. You get a glimpse into the mundane of their life. When you cook every night you shop at the supermarket and buy the brands that mothers buy for their families. When you are searching for the cheapest street food possible, you discover the winding backstreets of giant metropolises where graffiti artists perfect their art and the locals hang out their washing.
When you are driven to your resort in a taxi and eat at the hotel restaurant, what do you think you are seeing? What are you learning? The answer is nothing. Your comfort zone has not been violated, you haven't smelt the fog or the tar of a hot, sweaty city. You haven't drunk with the barman and found out how he knows six different languages or why he has a lazy eye. You haven't happened upon amazing artisan markets or seen the blood on the streets. You haven't felt the fear of not knowing what is happening, or the panic of getting lost. You haven't seen the life, or the soul. You haven't any stories.
This afternoon, after reading the blog of a European couple who took a year out from their jobs to travel the globe (Africa, Asia, South and Central America and Australasia) my opinion was instantly validated. They went to New Zealand. Adventure capital of the world. Doesn't everybody love New Zealand? It's so beautiful. I'm constantly being told what an amazing country I'm from and being asked to explain why I decided to leave. Here is why.
"...(New Zealand) leaves little room for surprises and eventually this is what we started to miss...At our previous destinations just walking down the street usually brought about a funny or exciting moment, something new or exotic! In New Zealand, excitement has turned into big business with over-abundant activities ... What blew our minds were the tons of brightly coloured free brochures that can be found in every hostel, cafe, tourist information. Tourism is so professionally marketed here and right in your face that we look back to travelling Latin America with nostalgia..."
Moral of the story? You can buy a plane ticket, you can buy a backpack, you can stay wherever you like and see what you like, but money aint going to buy you the smell of an Italian pizzeria, the heat of cobbled streets on your sandals, the sound of sirens or the quiet of a silent passenger train gliding through Provence.
 |
| Best pizza of my life found on a quiet street in Marseille |
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