The Silver Lining/Solo Travel Pt2

p8cvVmW“I want to travel, but i’m scared to go alone”.

I was too once upon a time, and an unlikely turn of events kicked my ass right out my front door. 

 

Disaster strikes at the most inopportune times.  From my last post, here: (https://gypsyprofessor.com/2018/01/24/on-the-path-to-solo-travel/)

I was all set to book tickets to south eastern Europe, only waiting on my friend to stop by and pull the proverbial trigger on airfare.  We had waited for weeks. I was pouring over Instagram and travel forums looking at pictures of Sarajevo, Skopje, and Dubrovnik. I was obsessed with getting over the pond. It had been far too long. I missed the feeling of the unknown, the swirl of foreign languages and the assault on the senses.  We were all set.

My buddy’s excuses had put pressure on the entire process and played a bit of pinball with my level of anxiety. Almost a month delayed now, he finally  showed up, but not to book…to give me one final, and fatal fucked up excuse.

“Hey man, bad news, I don’t think I can pull it off, I cant get the time off work..etc, etc.

All of the eye roll emojis in the world could not convey my feeling at that moment.

 

I was crushed. 

 

Absolutely crushed.  I felt betrayed, frustrated and pissed. My carefully constructed plans dashed and disregarded. But there was more.

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Now that I was in my doldrums, I walked away from the computer and my buddy  for the remainder of the afternoon. I went for a walk. I  attempted  to console myself with other options, a road trip maybe, or something domestic. I pondered and I plotted. Tied up in a knot of frustration,  and angst, I felt no progress near at hand.

Eventually that night, I ended up back at my place, and in a deep google routed rabbit’s hole. I ended up falling back on some trusted wisdom from some personal favorites. Bukowski, Hunter S Thompson, and Henry Miller.

“We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely—at least, not all the time—but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don’t see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.”  -HST
I peeled back a few layers of the onion and thought about why I thought I had to rely on other people for this particular dream.  I realized that nothing great comes easy. The people around me had 1,000 excuses not to pursue their dreams. I had reached a point where I refused to be one of them.
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“Fuck it”
“I’m going solo”
This was one of the most defining decisions of my life. As of this writing I have traveled to 69 countries. Some years I travel over two hundred thousand air miles. Travel becomes an obsession. Words like “tourist” no longer have any meaning for you.    The vast majority of these adventures  have been solo. Christmas in Sarajevo? Or Perhaps visiting an elephant sanctuary in Sri Lanka? Few are signing up for that.  That’s perfect.
“Learning to let go should be learned before learning to get. Life should be touched, not strangled. You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at others move forward with it. It’s like boats. You keep your motor on so you can steer with the current. And when you hear the sound of the waterfall coming nearer and nearer, tidy up the boat, put on your best tie and hat, and smoke a cigar right up till the moment you go over. That’s a triumph.”
Either embrace the unknown, or get comfortable in the wet pantload of your excuses to stay stagnant.  It  was time for me to take flight. Lets grab this ticket and make the most of it!
Aw shit. Another hurdle rises in the mist.   My saved routes to Budapest, Vienna, and Zagreb had doubled since the afternoon…I’m in the zone though, I cant be stopped. Embrace uncertainty, shed the illusion of control right?
So I rolled the dice, I frantically dissected the map of Europe, I held my breath for that sheer burst of serendipity, shit, I would have been ecstatic for  divine intervention at that point as well. Into the wee hours of the morning, the siege on my ticket prices finally broke. What a 3 am Rush!   Where am I going to land?!
Ladies and gentlemen… Looks like we are headed to Lithuania!!
Wait, what? Lithuania!?
Giddddddy Up!
Baltic adventure/pt 3  coming up next!
Happy weekend!

On the Path to Solo Travel

3 years ago I was super stoked.  The summer had descended on Michigan, I had a teaching assignment at the college secured and a great group of friends. I had gone through a wrenching breakup a few months previous, and had reorganized/re focused my life in a drastically more positive direction. (You know, that good growth stuff of your late 20’s) Now,  I had traveled before, I had been on a few study abroad excursions, and had made some amazing connections over the pond.  It had been a year or so since I had been abroad.

The itch was real.

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I thought about it constantly. I began mentioning to my group of friends casually.

“We should totally hit Europe this summer”. I wanted  miles under my feet, and crazy new sensations. Those damn motivational prints all over social media haunted me “Not all those who wander are lost” Etc, etc.

I began hatching some carefully constructed plans, seeing how I could convince my buddies to come along.

Finally after a few weeks, one particular friend who had never been outside of the country, declared over beers “Im in”! And the planning began in earnest.

Where would we go? I was keen on the Balkans, and the Baltics. I was planning on roughly 10 days. Swayed by the scenery of Croatia, and the mountains of Bosnia we decided on the former Yugoslavia.

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At this point I was watching flights daily, frantically refreshing, waiting for just the right combination, connections, and overall logistics.  I would text my buddy my findings through out the day

“Dude, DTW-BUD now 550$”

He would reply “Yeah man, lets do it!”

Later, when it was time to book, some sort of excuse would seemingly always emerge. I was getting anxious, watching flights rise and fall like the stock market. While trying to set a day to book I would read more about our intended region

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Sarajevo in particular looked beyond kick ass. The history, the culture…the food! I wanted to book NOW.  It was ultimatum time. Either we are booking or this, or it’s a no go….the day comes, we are getting together after work, its time to lock this in….

 

and then disaster strikes.

 

Pt 2 coming up next!

 

leave some love!

Friday Motivation

 

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The weekend is nearly upon us! It’s time once again to momentarily shed the office shackles and wander a bit farther afield…Even if only in our imaginations.

Today’s blurb comes to us from an unlikely source.

 

Remember that there needs to be a balance, don’t kill your self for a company/job that would replace you in minutes.

Take care of yourself.

“The less you eat, drink and buy books; the less you go to the theatre, the dance hall, the public house; the less you think, love, theorise, sing, paint, fence, etc., the more you save – the greater becomes your treasure which neither moths nor rust will devour – your capital. The less you are, the less you express your own life, the more you have, i.e., the greater is your alienated life, the greater is the store of your estranged being.”

– Karl Marx, 1844

 

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Now rock that weekend!

Caribbean dreamin’

It’s been damn cold here in Michigan. As friends have not hesitated to remind me, I seem to have missed the really cold days, but I’m rather frigid none the less.

As the semester is underway and the rhyme and flow of the “grind” has set in, I’ve been thinking of Haiti yet again. I’ve been thinking of the island nation on a few different levels.

The first of which is downright adversity. Our last full day on the island was dedicated to a roadtrip to the sea. We tried to go the day before, yet couldn’t find a car. After overcoming this obstacle through much time, hard currency and angst, we then could find no fuel.

What?

That’s right. Port Au Prince was seized by a petrol crises. When was the last time you couldn’t go somewhere because when pulling into your local gas station a 12 gauge wielding team of guards informed you “no gasoline”?

Makes for a frustrated road trip. But this is a common occurrence for Haiti, especially in the capital. The solution? Dollars and time. Our fixer cobbled together a gallon here, a gallon there. We were set for early nothing the next day. To the sea we will go!

A mere hour outside the city is akin to visiting another planet. This is what I had imagined when thinking of a quick week run immediately before the semester. You know, coconuts n shit. Sandy beaches. Drinks with wee umbrellas.

Taking a day to lounge along the Côte des Arcadins is majestic. Slow, easy and not butchered by gaudy resorts. This day on the sea allowed me to begin to wrap my mind around Haiti. I had gone from the context of adversity to one of calm beauty. I did drink out of a damn coconut and floated for a while. These memories are extra potent when confronting sub zero Michigan temps. My final layer/level to Haiti that comes to mind is sheer tenacity. The savage beauty of the landscape as well as the people. I think back to the Ghetto Biennale, and Andre Eugene, the resident artist and curator. I think of seeing the kids of the art collective assemble amazing pieces, and having literally nothing. Living in a tent city.

I think about the grit that it takes to create, despite living in actual realized destruction. While I listen to my students bitch about the battery life of their new iPhones wearing their pajamas to class because they can’t be bothered to find actual pants. They “can’t even” as they say.

I think about Haiti. I think about how this place caught me off guard. Destroyed my intestinal tract, proved much more expensive and difficult than originally intended, how it caused friction among friends and could prove absolutley exhausting. But all of that aside, Haiti changed my perspective. I gassed up my private automobile yesterday…without issue. I drive where I want and things around me work for the most part.

You should smile about that.

Our political situation is nutty, with the US president calling Haiti a “Shithole” and promising to deport more Haitians…and this isn’t the post to delve into colonial legacy, but it’s something that deserves far more attention than it currently gets.

I think about Haiti, and I smile. I’m thankful for seeing a vastly different world, and yet again what that human spirit is capable of.

Thank you!

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Weekend thoughts

5 weeks on the road. (With a few runs home mind you). Makes one think.

I wanted to share a few weekend words with you.

Don’t get stuck. Move, travel, take a class, take a risk. There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming. Don’t lose yourself at happy hour, but don’t lose yourself on the corporate ladder either. Stop every once in a while and go out to coffee or climb in bed with your journal. Now is your time. Walk closely with people you love. Don’t get stuck in the past, and don’t try to fast-forward yourself into a future you have yet to earn.

Keep moving forward.

Happy Saturday.

Random awesome invite to…Malaysia?!

This comes to me as a proper ode to serendipity. One of those moments of “buy the ticket, take the ride”…and never refuse an invitation. (At least a genuine one). Coming out of my Angkor stupor, I was surprised and warmed by an invite from the high king of prawn himself (see the Singapore prawn battle post) to join him and his lovely wife in Kuala Lumpur on this trek. I don’t travel with much of an itinerary, for exactly reasons like this.

a few days in KL? Why not?!

So off to this mega city I went.

Meeting with a local completely changes the nature of an excursion. You see elements of neighborhoods and cities that simply won’t happen from a hotel/hostel. Thank the gods my gracious hosts and I share a deep seated love of street food. The plastic table, chili sauce, Asian love variety especially. We quickly bonded over cold tiger beer and fish parts.

Kuala Lumpur is quite the eclectic mix of new and old wave migration. This city shows this at every layer, from the people on the bus to the wide range of ethnic eateries seemingly everywhere.

This city loves to SHOP, and to EAT. Malls may be dying in the states, but are booming here in the Malaysian capital.

Not one for malls, of course this left me with the option closest to my heart…the food! Kuala Lumpur, despite being a Muslim City, has divided the fun into “eating street” and “drinking street”.

Bring on the pork!!

Easy Peasy.

I came to KL with next to no expectation, on a friendly invite. What I encountered…an incredible swirl of culture, and food. Americans especially would benefit tremendously from stepping out of that comfort zone and hitting South East Asia.

A non stop mix of everything awesome. A night of absolute gastronomic debauchery. It proved quite a change to go on auto pilot for a bit. Friends here knew where to go and how to get there. I was able to relax and enjoy. From roof top beers to a sultry mix of flavors on the streets below.

KL is seemingly constantly building, rising, expanding. You can feel this vibe, or pulse through the entire place. The traffic can be brutal. Once you exhaust yourself of meat sticks and cold beer (blasphemy I know) the time has come to retreat to the highlands that ring the city. The cable cars will take you to what is now the worlds largest hotel at 5000 + rooms. The malls and shopping centers are optional, as the cooler temps and the view are what makes this a necessity.

Something about temples and rain forest in the mist…just adds that exact eastern exotic feel you’ve been looking for. Spend a day here, and enjoy.

I would never thought to cone here, or that this really existed had it not been for friends. The unexpected can be the absolute best. As I mentioned in an earlier post, this entire excursion was built with the help of friends. From Grand Rapids, to Chicago, now Kuala Lumpur and beyond. This inspires a humble smile, as none of us can go it alone. Get up, get out there, remember to check your ego at the door, don’t be an asshole and enjoy. You will marvel every single day at how amazing this world and it’s people can be.

Or crush another bag of chips from the couch and talk shit on Facebook. Your call.

I thought for sure I was headed to Laos after this…but as with all things, this has changed. I hope you’re ready for the next jump after this altogether awesome stop in Kuala Lumpur! We are in for a surprise.

Drop a comment or feel free to hit me up

Thegypsyprofessor@gmail.com

Climbing that goddamn mountain.

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.”

I’m reminded of these words as I have continued to dwell on the ruins of Angkor. this trek is a week old as of today, and yet it feels as if I’ve been gone for at least a month. A brief stop in Bangkok, but with a delayed sense of anxiety, a rushed kind of mental fidget. Eye on the prize, time for Cambodia!

As a brief side note, I never intended for this writing project to be any kind of guide. I know those are super popular now, and there are some exhaustive ones already out there for damn near everywhere. These are written by people far exceeding my humble talents and budget. I’m more here to share my reactions and observations…out loud as it were.

Back to the temples! Climbing these stairs and exploring the walls of this civilization, I was struck again and again by the theme of time. How it felt that I’d been gone for weeks already, how the year 2017 is rapidly drawing to a close, etc. Then to the passing of time witnessed by these mighty walls and stone based efforts.

Time. Goes. On.

You find yourself here after the cost, and the planning, the logistics and the energy…and despite the Chinese tour groups (deserving of their own post) best efforts at maintaining ridiculously high levels of inane obnoxiousness…it’s eerily quiet. Finding your own corner to observe this massive tree separating a thousand year old wall and burying its stones under root it’s the passage of time and transition that hits you square in the frontal lobe.

All of us, we are born, we grow, mature (hopefully) and then we die. One of the twin pillars of guaranteed factors in this life. Death, and taxes. I believe that travel changes you, leaves it’s mark on you, by thumping you in the forehead and saying

“Hey stupid! Life! It’s happening right fucking now! Right here!”

It forces us to answer that call. You begin to question why you’re working a job you hate, in order to buy shit you don’t need. For me Angkor drove this home again, again, and again. There is the cycle. Do with it what you can.

Life is simply too damn short to be unhappy. That’s what I saw etched into these stones. Grab those dreams with both fucking hands and don’t let go.

Don’t live a life of quiet desperation. It doesn’t take dodging tourists in an abandoned temple 10,000 miles away to realize that there exists a bigger picture in play.

“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.”

Thank you.

Holy shit. Angkor Wat.

How do I even begin to write this? As a Bonafide disclaimer, the descriptions, stories, and especially pictures simply will never do this place justice. Let’s get that out of the way first and foremost.

I feel as if I’ve tempted fate almost too many times. I booked a bottom of the barrel cheap flight to Asia with the primary intention of getting to Cambodia to wander these temple ruins. The weather has been scary perfect, and the flight was better than expected.

Angkor is big. It’s monstrously huge. I decided on the two day pass. Back to back full day treks into the temples. The ticket comes in at $62.00 USD. I’ve racked my brain trying to think of anything better or more significant one can purchase for under 70.00. Hell, for plenty of people, that’s a tank of gas. You have two options to get out there from the city of Siem Reap, tuk tuk, or taxi.

Don’t be a wiener.

Tuk tuk all the way.

Load up at breakfast, and get stoked to hit the rickety road! Sunglasses, check. Sunscreen, check. Good pair of shoes, check.

Ready to roll.

Like so much of Asia, Angkor is going to come at you all at once. It can prove profoundly overwhelming, humbling, and inspiring. Look into the past. See what people have been capable of throughout the glorious centuries that preceded our own.

Angkor is a place that defies imagination, as there is no where else on earth quite like it. The city of Siem Reap (gateway to Angkor Wat) has watched its tourism number more than quadruple in just a few short years. Numbers like that begin to change a place, and Cambodia’s fifth largest city is no exception. One of the many reasons I wanted to…err needed to go as soon as possible.

Impossible to attempt to capture, but the real fun once inside the temples, is finding wee odd pieces the hordes of tour groups have ignored.

This post will be a short one as I’m still processing the utmost cultural overload. I’ll put up another post quite soon as I’m still Angkor drunk.

Episode 2 coming up shortly.

Please let know what you think!

“He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man”

I’ve been chewing on this one for roughly 24 hours now. I arrived back in Kuching last night. Shoes still squeaking wet across the hotel lobby, sand and salt blasted hair from the beach and the South China Sea… a deep sunburn scorched across my aching body, yet smiling as if I’d won the damn lottery.

Dawn of that day I set out for Bako National Park. Which the trails into the rainforest I was destined for are only reachable by boat. (That’s how you know you’re headed into the shit).

I waited around the boat terminal for 30 min or so as I didn’t hire a guide, I simply bought the ticket, and took the ride, to the tune of about 14$ US for park admission and two one way boat taxi trips.

There is something about ripping across the water, taking the occasional spray with the few “oh shit” moments before a big wave that truly get your blood pumping, and the day started.

Once in the park, most folks have a solid idea what they are up to…I was not that prepared, I thought tagging along with a duo of Swedish girls would be fine, until they turned out to be possible marathon trainees. They selected one of the more difficult trail options and promptly vanished. So much for my Ikea jokes.

So what was I to do? Climb. Climb some more. Keep climbing.

A regular companion who made a few appearances to mock my efforts is shown above. The “bearded pig”. I was super stoked to capture a picture of one of them on the beach.

Now that my team had abandoned me, the sun was peaking and it was becoming hot. Higher I climbed, and the more sweat poured out. The doubt demon begin to take hold. “What the fuck are you doing?! YOU don’t hike mountains.”‘

“Just had to go to Borneo didn’t you”

“Ummm, hey genius, who hikes up a mountain…in the rainforest…during the wet season”

“We are lost, bearded pigs will eat our bones”

“Local news head line “dipshit dies in far away forest”

I’m thinking I might die, when a small group comes crashing around another path that runs into mine. A tall Hollander, a Swede, and a brit. All backpackers who invite me to join them. Well, I’m here to tell you, team work makes the fucking dream work. Our merry band finished the ascent, slowly but surely, and even enjoyed lunch atop old volcanic flow looking down over the beach. I’ve never been that hot in my entire life. Your heart beat coming fast right behind your eyes, sweat forcing them into slits…not enough steam-turned-air getting where it needs desperately to go. But then, there it was. One of the absolute majestic views I’ve ever been lucky enough to absorb.

My companions shared their water, and even their biscuits (cookies) with me. We joked about cultural differences, and what a miserable bag of smashed assholes currently sits in the White House.

There are certain moments which seem

To stretch out and play over and over again in ones mind. Sitting atop that mountain with new found friends watching the water crash on an untainted beach after heavy exertion is one such moment.

By the time we came down, the hour was late, a boat came for beach pickup, I wandered out into the surf, pushing and hopping in for the journey back to the city. Coming around a bend and discovering a pack of otters enjoying a late meal. I remembered a freshly posted sign warning visitors not to swim at any nearby beaches as a spate of crocodile attacks had happened recently.

That jungle is still with me. My shoes are still a bit wet. The socks and boxer briefs from that day didn’t make it back. I’m once again nestled in this crazy metropolis of Singapore and yet my mind keeps drifting back to the jungle. How absolutley alive it is. The hum and pulse of this living thing enveloping you, finally disconnected without even 3g service, just wandering through this multi thousand year being…this process…and remembering what a small place you occupy within it.

This is the first installment…as I am in desperate need of sleep 🙂

Thanks for reading. There will be on Borneo soon I’m sure

Please comment and share your thoughts/feedback.

Thank you!

Welcome to the lion city

Okay, I mostly survived the long haul trek from Chicago. Remember from the last post I asked “what happens when you grab an error fare to Singapore for $326”? Well first, no advanced seat assignment. Just had to roll the dice in the name of adventure.

Ended up lucky on both legs by some kind of miracle. Empty row on the way over to Tokyo , and exit row goodness to Singapore. 26 hours of travel time.

I arrived in Singapore last night around 1 am. Cleared customs with the quickness and grabbed an Uber to my hotel. Only in Asia do rooms come this size. I love boutique hotels, and I knew it was 100sqft before I booked it, it’s clean, with a great location…good WiFi and quiet.

Grabbed some quick shut eye and ventured out into the city this morning. Singapore is the ultimate culinary mashup. The flavor profiles that collide here prove the super strains of the gastro world. Everyday you are faced with the pressing question of stomach real estate vs desire and adventure. The hawker centers here are famous the world over, and for good reason. Today was a chance to wander the lion city, and nibble its edges.

A nibble (or two) was had, and the appetite for more is there!

But…

This jet lag is catching up with me, I have so much to post. I hope everyone keeps up with the positive feedback, adventures from the food stalls tomorrow!