A Traveler's Regret

There are the travel decisions we love and then there are the travel decisions over which we beat ourselves up. Sometimes the regret is instantaneous, and sometimes it comes to us later when we've had time to mull things over. Either way, the essence of regret means that if given the chance to do it again, we would do it differently. There are a few situations I feel this way about.

Shall we begin with the most recent mental flogging?

Travel Regret #1
I didn't go to Greece with the rest of my friends!!  Some of you who have been following me for at least a year will remember that:
A) this time last year I got married, and,
B)  right before that  I decided it would also be a great time to go to Turkey.
I lived it up in Istanbul for a few days and then came the moment when I departed for the airport to catch a flight home, while the rest of them caught a flight to Greece. Why, why, WHY? It had something to do with being a good little bride-to-be and spending my time finalizing wedding details.
You know what? They went to Greece and had an amazing time (minus those pesky riots) while I was at home, performing the aforementioned "finalizing of the wedding details." Guess who had more fun? Not me. And you know what else? The wedding went off almost without a hitch (minus a caterer who I am trying to purge from memory).  So you see?

Lesson learned: Just go to Greece next time.

Travel Regret #2

Yes, that is me making throw-up faces

I was not at all excited about the food in China or Hong Kong. In fact, this picture at right will demonstrate to you my actual feelings on the matter. At the time, I blamed it on the copious amounts of rice I had eaten during a previous trip traipsing around southeast Asia and had grown increasingly sick of.  As a result, I ate very "safe" foods, minus one endeavor to consume snake on a stick. McDonald's frequently called my name, as did  various other fast food establishments. Never once did I really allow myself to experience and indulge in the flavors of a country that is home to a plethora of savory cuisines.  I am kinda mad at myself for that. Reading other people's blogs doesn't help this regret much.

Lesson learned: Eat whatever the locals eat.

Travel Regret #3
This one is is just plain cringe-worthy and should be blamed on the immaturity of youth and a large amount of alcohol.  After nearly two months on and off the road in Central America, we were back in Antigua, Guatemala for one last week of Spanish school. We stayed at the home of a young woman, who was probably not much older than us. All went well until she asked us for money to pick up some medicine, promising to pay it back the next day.  One of us forked over 100 quetzales (about $13).  The next day she did not have the money, nor had she made dinner (as per what we were paying for in our homestay), apologizing to us that she had been sick and had not had a chance to get the money . No problem. We are human, we understand.  We were not so understanding though a few hours later, when who did we see out dancing the night away in one of Antigua's bumpin' clubs?
You guessed it.
You should have seen the look on her face when she saw us. I approached her, questioning "Estas enferma?" with all the snotty attitude I could muster in a different language. She mumbled something and melted away in the crowd. We went back home after several more hours of drinking and dancing, and collapsed into bed. We were leaving first thing in the morning for Costa Rica and in the haze of the night, we realized one thing: we had been scammed. What to do? Nothing much to do, really. Who can you call? Could we delay a trip for $13-a significant amount when you're on the road for a while? Early morning found us up on the roof, pacing, feeling the effects of the previous eight hours, and trying to figure out a plan. It was then that I honed in on the dozens of glass gallon jars littering her rooftop.  All were clean and clearly being reserved for some purpose.  I glance at the jars, lock eyes with my friend, and in an instant, the plan becomes clear. We proceed to smash nearly every jar on that rooftop, leaving a giant mess of glass shards and fragments.

An alcohol-fueled hissy fit if there ever was one.

Yeah, the woman was wrong to take the money. No doubt about that. But the truth of the matter is that it was $13. Even worse, we were in someone's home, destroying their property. Still worse, perhaps the scene that greeted her later on her own rooftop sowed the seeds of an irreparable stereotype of Americans.

Lesson learned: Get over myself. Also, note to self: Get a grip!

Do these moments define who I am? Not in the least. We travelers pride ourselves on being cultured by our exposure to the world's humanity. Really though, traveling just exposes our own humanity. It is what we do with that unveiled truth that will either make us a good traveler with bad travel moments or an all-around bad traveler. Because yes, there are bad travelers. You know who they are-you've met them.

What about you? Any regrets?

My Love/Hate Relationship With Your Travel Blog

There. I said it.

I love your travel blog and I hate your travel blog.

Who are you? Anyone with a blog  filled with colorful tales of escapades abroad. You know, like the time you had to sweet-talk the Indian consulate into giving you a visa, got swindled by the taxi driver in Costa Rica, went partying with the Germans in Guatemala, sustained an injury on the Great Wall of China,  or  got mobbed by Bangladeshi street kids while handing out oranges.

Here's the thing:  I have been possessed with a touch of the green-eyed monster as of late and I am not completely sure why. All of the above adventures are mine, so it is clear that I have not just been sitting at home on my duff for the last 10 years. Truly, I have been blessed with amazing opportunities to see our wonderful world. But I want more. And every time I read a blog post detailing some place I have yet to see, or even some place I have already been, I am overwhelmed with either wanderlust or nostalgia, or what I like to call "wanderalgia", a lethal combination of both of those.  When wanderalgia strikes, I am stuck in a mopey, petulant child funk the rest of the day and that is when I know the madness must stop. Timeout from your blog is put in effect.  But then I miss the updates and the stories and inevitably, I go back for more, just like a jilted suitor.
For most of the last 10 years, I have always had some sort of plan in the works for next adventure. Always a next destination, always something to look forward to. This past year has been no exception either-Tanzania/Zanzibar at the end of last year, followed by Turkey in April, followed by our Wild West honeymoon adventure. And now? I got nuthin.'  Zip. The agenda is free and clear and I don't like it one single bit. Which is why I have troubles reading your blog sometimes. The nagging thoughts start at the headline and whisper their way through the entry--"what if I never go anywhere again? what if my adventures are over?

"WELL PLAN SOMETHING THEN YOU CRAZY PERSON!"  you are probably thinking.  Well, I'd like to, but I can't just go out willy-nilly and spend cold hard cash on airfare and souvenirs when I have newly assumed rent and other life expenses  to pay right?

But that is nothing compared to the kingpin of negative thoughts, and here is my second confession for today:  I am going to be 30 in just a few weeks. With 30 comes all sorts of adult things. Marriage is a recent development for me, THAT birthday is on the  imminent horizon, and according to everybody who finds out about said recent marriage, kids will soon be coming along. Perish that thought right now. Eventually, yes of course, but right this second is not on the schedule. Soon"ish."  Am I getting old? Washed-up? Settled? *gasp*. I hope not. But without a trip planned, it sure feels like it. So, right now, I live vicariously through you and yours, which is both the curse and the blessing.

Now, before you consider calling one of my loved ones and putting me on some sort of watch, here is the good news. As I have grown up, I have also grown to appreciate the "lesser" adventures.  No, I don't need an African extravaganza every year to keep me happy. Sure, it would be fantastic, but it simply isn't going to happen. And if I don't accept that, I would just be plain miserable. I truly enjoy the smaller weekend adventures, the day trips, and the fun night out. It's not all about crickets on a stick or wild bus rides in the Andes Mountains with me.

Having clarified my mental state, I still would buy a ticket somewhere right now if I had the resources to do so. But here is the other good news: when I first started writing this post, I had only the plan of going back to substitute teaching this year, despite having finished my studies and gotten certified. Then came the phone call heard 'round the world. 36  hours and one 12 minute interview later, I am writing to you as the newest public school teacher in the WV. Woo-hoo! Benefits! Paid snow days! Aaaannnd.....most importantly, a steady paycheck with which to start planning my next trip! All is right with the world again. At least until I read your next blog entry with glowing reports of some back-alley gem of a restaurant in a Beijing hutong or the spectacular sunset on Bali. Then I may want to throw darts at my computer screen.

Am I alone here? Any other wanderlusters ever go through this period in life? Perhaps not, but it sure felt good to get all this down in print.

Reeeealllly important call at the Great Wall.