Wanted: Personal Assistant

Working for a living really cuts down on my free time.

It probably doesn't help, of course, that I am a perfectionist workaholic who doesn't know enough to go home at a reasonable hour. It's compounded by the fact that I have 6 (yes, count'em, 6!) working days left and am frantically trying to wrap up a to-do list several metres long. I have a great replacement -- one of the senior analysts on my team is taking over, and I know she will do a bang-up job (probably better than me, and they won't want me back). But I'd like to leave things in as good a shape as possible so she can start fresh.

It definitely doesn't help that I am also trying to deal with recent personal losses. I have decreed to the universe that henceforth, every person and animal that I care about must stay well and healthy until they reach a grand old age along with me. Dying at something too close to my own current age is NOT ON, not for anyone, not anymore. Listening, universe? I'm not kidding.

In the meantime, I'm supposed to be planning for my year off. I have no time or energy by the time I get home from work ... or this week, home from about four parties of the kind that will last till the wee small hours (one of which is all about me ... $5 martinis, anyone?). So I'm still not much further along than I was two months ago.

Which brings me to my title: anyone willing to volunteer as a personal assistant? You'd have to take care of travel plans, keep my fridge stocked with food and clean the house from top to bottom. I won't offer to pay you since, well, I'm not going to have an income next year. But surely there are nurturing people out there who would jump at the chance to make my life just that little bit easier?

I could let you tag along with me to the corner of the world of your choice, in compensation. I promise I'm pretty easy to travel with (note to sisters: you are banned from commenting upon this statement).

And then I'd have time to actually decide how I want to spend the next year. Which I haven't had much of yet.

I realized recently, though, that I do NOT want to attempt West African travel entirely on my own, so I've been looking into tour options -- the low-key kind that basically just get you from place to place, make sure you're safe and otherwise leave you to your own devices. There are some good options out there, I was happy to see, even allowing for the somewhat last-minute nature of my planning.

The difficulty is finding time to get visas ahead of time, as I need one for just about every country I might want to visit in Africa. And I'm out of the country for two separate periods between now and the end of January, which means my passport must be in my hands, not tied up in some bureaucratic office somewhere awaiting the magic stamps.

So I thought maybe I'd need to start the African leg a little later. Then I thought of great ideas to spend the rest of January and part of February: dogsledding in Algonquin Park, going to see the northern lights in the Yukon and/or volunteering at a climate change research study in Churchill at the end of January.

All excellent ideas ... but if I just keep adding new things to my list for next year, without actually arranging any of the things I'd already decided upon, I will never get off the ground.

Which brings me back to that personal assistant. So send those resumes ASAP: I promise to give them my undivided attention from my hammock in Key West in a week and a half ... and if you're the lucky candidate, maybe you can even come join me. Hey, SOMEONE's got to make the margaritas.

What makes a traveller?

There is a difference. Between a "traveller" and a "tourist", that is.

I have long prided myself on being one of the former group and turned up my nose (figuratively speaking) at "tourists". But I have begun to realize, as I do research for my upcoming year's travels, that there is a whole other level of snobbery associated with long-term travel.

Okay, let's take as a given for the moment that I am not going to be a "tourist" next year - that category being defined vaguely by willingness to stay in all-inclusive resorts (or at the very least, hotels where they actually give you little bottles of free shampoo and towels) or expectation that people will speak English to you everywhere you go, and that your luggage will include all the usual accompaniments to your everyday life (such as hair products, blow dryer, and dressy clothes). There is nothing wrong with this kind of trip, if that's what you want to do -- just be aware that's it's not really "travelling".

(Hey, I did say there was snobbery involved, this is not my prejudice speaking. It's just the generally accepted rule.)

But it goes much further than that. There is "traveller", a camp in which I solidly believe myself to be. These are people who venture outside the tourist compounds of all-inclusive resorts, take public transit (e.g. chicken buses in Guatamala) and understand the concept of sleeping in a dorm room with bunks, because that's what they usually do. And consider a third change of clothes a luxury, considering you have to carry everything on your back.

But there's another level beyond that, I've discoverered, in the holier-than-thou "I'm a more authentic traveller than you" stakes of the long-term backpacking world. I have been looking into options for travelling around West Africa, as I am very nervous about the idea of doing it entirely independently (what can I say, the news about European travellers being kidnapped and held for ransom in northern Mali -- one was killed, one is still being held hostage -- kind of put me off). And there are some very reasonable alternatives that cater to the "traveller" spirit in me (which don't force me to become a "tourist") while still looking after my safety - the kind of group travel where they organize your travels from place to place, make sure you have guides (or armed guards) as needed for the more difficult bits, but pretty much leave you alone otherwise to do your own thing. Kind of like a "tour", but without the enforced togetherness and "if it's Tuesday, it must be Berlin" kind of feeling.

Well. Apparently that means, according to many backpacker blogs I have read, that I have sold out and can no longer count myself as an authentic "traveller", if I am even willing to consider such a thing. Unless you do EVERYTHING the most difficult and most dangerous way possible, it isn't "authentic" and it doesn't count as real "travel".

I have no patience for this. (No, that's not actually true. I am a little bit seduced by the reasoning, as generally i do think that Western travellers/tourists miss out when they opt to take an "easy" option instead of doing the hard-core, travel-like-the-locals options.)

But seriously ... when did it become somehow less valid to travel around west Africa in the company of other people and the occasional guide-type person who might smooth our way once in a while, than to try to figure it all out from scratch? I have come to the conclusion, more or less, that if I try to do West Africa with just a plane ticket to my first destination and some cash, that I will have a less than optimal experience -- this is not a place that is easy to get around, nor would it be a whole lot of fun to be the only white Western woman for miles around. (Okay, the marriage proposals might be good for my ego -- but i can live without the constant judgment about my standard of dress, my lack of male companions and what those things imply about my morals.)

I do believe that there is a difference between "tourist" and "traveller", and that you shouldn't pretend you've actually really seen Cuba, or the Dominican, if you've never left the resort for the weeks that you were there. You do have to embrace some unease, some stepping outside your comfort zone to really and truly "travel" ... but to think that you can NEVER take a slightly easier option, is madness.

And then there's the notion that somehow "far away" (relative to where you are) is automatically more "real" in the travel stakes than anywhere close by. So, for a North American, going to the Canaries is major points in the travel stakes -- but for a Brit, that's a cheap package holiday that isn't even worth mentioning. Vice versa for the Brits and N. Americans, when it comes to Jamaica, or Cuba.

And Southeast Asia, for example, no longer counts as real "travel", among the backpacker elite, unless you gone to Bhutan, or camped among elephants in the wild in Thailand, or trekked to a location in Nepal so remote that you're the first white face they've ever seen. And Australia/NZ/Europe? Forget it ... anywhere "Western" is far too easy to count.

Have you ever read the book The Beach? (It was a Leo diCaprio movie, too, but i haven't seen it.) That is a perfect example of the kind of snobbery i mean -- it isn't enough to find an unspoiled, little-visited beach in southwest Thailand to have an authentic "travel" experience. No, they have to find a beach that is so remote, they have to swim for a mile from the nearest island, then hike overland through a dope field, then scale a cliff to find their "real experience". (And then it goes all Lord of the Flies by the end, which presumably adds lots of "authenticity" points.)

I am learning to spot a backpacker snob at 100 paces or less ... they will usually try to compete with you over (1) the number of countries you've been, (2) the roughest conditions in which you've stayed, (3) how far they've managed to bicker down a price in a market, and (4) how many times they've been "threatened" (been mugged, pickpocketed, drugged, etc) because they've chosen to take local transport, stay in a local guesthouse (as opposed to chain hotel) and eat at street vendors. These things do not make your travel experience any more genuine --I don't buy this notion that you're not really "seeing India", for example, if you don't choose to *always* travel by local train/bus and eat exclusively at the cheapest market stall, staying in a place with cockroaches or bedbugs. This idea that travel somehow isn't "real" enough unless you're suffering as much as possible ...

I don't need to do that. As long as I keep an open mind, seek out experiences that are different that i would get at home and talk to local people somewhere along the way -- oh, and don't frequent western fast food chains or Starbucks -- then I'm probably safe still calling myself a traveller.

Even if I occasionally choose the flush toilet over the more "authentic" squat-over-a-hole-in-the-ground experience.

So many choices, so little time ...

I thought when I started planning that a year would seem like all the time in the world ... how could I NOT go everywhere I want to go, do all the things I want to do, when I have a full 12 months to spend my time however I choose? (without ever having to set foot back in the office)

Well, I was wrong.

Oh, I don't mean that 12 months isn't a lot of time - and that I'm not very grateful to have the time, opportunity and money to be able to do this. It's just that, the more I research, the more things I find that I'd like to do and more places I'd like to go!

I've gotten some easy stuff figured out ... like a trip out west to visit my sister (on the train), down to Wyoming to ski for a week, and a week or so to laze around in the sun (I haven't actually booked that yet, but it's coming soon - probably Key West). But the "big trip" is harder - I've realized that I can't actually go everywhere, and that picking any one place to go means giving up something else.

And then there's the safety question. Much as this irritates me, it is just not as easy -- and in some cases, downright dangerous -- to travel to some parts of the globe as a solo woman. Particularly as a (relatively) rich, Western, white woman -- I have learned from experience that those characteristics invite harassment and too much attention in some countries, as there is a prevailing stereotype about Western women and their loose sexual mores that is only reinforced if you have the temerity to be travelling without a man. But there are places where it could go far beyond harassment, and much as I might rant about the fact that women "should" have as much freedom to travel where they want as men, I have no desire to pay for that freedom with my health or my life.

So there will be probably have to be some compromises in the way I travel if I am going to go to some parts of Africa, or to the Middle East, for example.

And then there's the question of timing -- how do I balance out all the places I will go in a year so that I don't end up in India during the monsoon, or hiking the Inca Trail in knee-deep mud, or fainting in 50 degree Celsius temperatures in West Africa? The "best times" to go various places don't seem to line up in a logical order for a round-the-world trip, and they will too often coincide with peak tourist season and make travel that much more difficult.

So here's the current thinking ...

First up:

A week in Key West, immediately after leaving work on December 9th. Possibly with a friend, although he is juggling family commitments and may or may not be able to go. This is where I get to unwind from work, relax, de-stress and leave the office completely behind ... so that I am recharged for the next year.

Second:

Train out west to see my sister in Vancouver. Then to Jackson Hole to meet up with a friend from England to ski for a week -- tried to figure out how to do Toronto-Vancouver-Jackson Hole-Toronto entirely by train, but the U.S. rail system makes it difficult. I eventually gave up and booked flights, except for the Toronto-Vancouver leg.

Third:

West Africa, for about late January to March (10-12 weeks). Timbuktu a must, everything else is a bonus. May include a short volunteer stint in Ghana. This is when West Africa is dry and not yet too hot -- but as it's not yet a big tourist destination, I'm not expecting to have to fight with hordes of other travellers for transportation or places to stay.

Fourth:

South America, for about 3 months (till June or July). Had originally thought about doing this first, but the rainy season in Peru -- which makes for oceans of mud along the Inca Trail -- is roughly our winter, so as Machu Picchu is one of my "must see" destinations in South America, I thought I'd better plan to be here when I'd actually enjoy the hike. And before peak season in July and August -- I'd rather not have to share the trail with hundreds of other people.

Fifth:

Round the world! Beginning in July or so ... Fly to London for a short visit, then over to Istanbul (skipping over the rest of Europe as I've seen most of it in previous trips, and one big backpacking trip back in the '90's). Overland from Istanbul to Kathmandu, as I am fascinated by stories of the old "hippie trail" of the '60's and '70's -- you may or may not know this, but I am really just a wanna-be hippie at heart, and if I'd been born a couple of decades earlier, I would definitely have been one of those intrepid travellers going off to find herself in Asia (and yes, probably doing too many drugs along the way, but we won't go into that. I don't plan to do that now!!)

How to do this is the question -- it's not an easy part of the world to travel (particularly, again, as a solo woman), and I'm not sure I'd want to go through Iran or Pakistan. (Afghanistan is, of course, completely out of the question.) The alternative -- going through the other 'Stans (Uzbek-, Kazakh-, Turkmen-, Tajik-, and Kyrgyz-) -- is more appealing, and probably safer if not easier. This might mean hooking up with a group to travel, rather than trying to navigate entirely on my own.

From Kathmandu, down through Southeast Asia (Thailand, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia) to Western Australia, and from there island-hopping in the South Pacific on my way home -- actually, by then, it would probably be just one island (no hopping), as this is a lot to try to pack into six months.

Whew!

This year is going to fly. So are the next two months, as I attempt to figure out all the practical details. Would love to hear from any of you who have attempted long-term travel -- what are your tips?

Carol :)

p.s. And if you know anyone who needs an apartment for next year, I may be looking to sublet. Not sure yet what I'm going to do with it, but as it's a great deal (and I love the neighbourhood), I'm loath to give it up entirely. I also hate apartment-hunting, so would love to avoid that when I come back!

Not on the road, quite yet ...

You may think the title of this blog is misleading, as you read the next paragraph. But rest assured, this is actually going to be about travel, as I have next year off work to go gallivanting around the world. I just have a roundabout way of explaining first why that’s so important to me right now, prompted by the movie I rented tonight on the spur of the moment.

I just watched the film “Before Sunrise” again. If you don’t know it, it’s a story that takes place in one night, as Jesse (Ethan Hawke) meets Celine (Julie Delpy) on a train. They get off together in Vienna and spend one night wandering the city; the film shows the developing relationship and chemistry between them. I saw it not long after it came out in London (which was a little behind North America, Hollywood-movie-wise) sometime in the fall of 1995. I loved it then (and I loved it now), but at the time, in 1995, it was bittersweet. I’d gone to see it with my then-boyfriend (with whom I was living), and I remember walking out of the movie theatre thinking, “They’ve known each other a few hours, and I’ve known this guy for years, and we still don’t have what they have.” My relationship was not in a good place by then, and we barely spoke except to argue; it probably won’t be any surprise that it ended a few months later.

But I mention it not to reminisce about past relationships. What I love about the movie is the sense of possibility – the idea that in the space of few hours, before the sun rises the next day, life can change. You can meet someone, encounter something, see something, have a conversation … that changes you forever, even if that experience only lasts a short time.

That movie isn’t about romance, really, for me. It’s about being open to the world, and to life, and seizing the experiences that come your way. Appreciating the moments, fleeting though they may be, that remind you that you’re alive, remind you to be passionate and audacious and curious about everything and everyone who crosses your path. That you only get one time around, so you’d better grab hold of every moment that enriches this life while you can.

I’ve felt like that, at many times in my life.

I have talked through the night with dear and wonderful friends, happy just to be with them. I have loved, and been loved, and felt my heart break when it ended.

I have taken on what were, for me, formidable physical challenges (with that little voice in my head telling me “but you’re not an athlete”) and triumphed, joyous laughter bubbling up in my throat as I crossed the finish line of that marathon or accepted that brand-new black belt.

I have sat on the top of a Mayan temple in the Guatemalan jungle as the sun rose, listening to the howler monkeys as they woke, and on the top of a dune in the Saharan desert as the sun set.

I have danced for three days straight in the English countryside, with the DJ spinning trance or house out over the crowd of thousands of ravers.

I have felt enormous satisfaction at knowing I can take on a challenging professional job, and do it extremely well, using whatever intelligence and talent I am fortunate enough to possess.

I had that sense of possibility – the next adventure was just around the corner. I didn’t have to wonder, “What if…?” because I took a chance and tried it, whatever it was.

But I’ve lost that sense somewhere over the last few years. It isn’t an age thing … although it’s true that at 40, I don’t have the same feeling of unlimited time that I did when I was 23. It’s a mindset. I used to feel adventurous and bold and excited about my life, and now I feel like I’m going through the motions, that I’m just marking time for some vague and unspecified event that I can’t even name.

So this is where the year off work comes in.

If I stay here, that challenging and interesting job that I used to love will continue to demand all of my time and energy. And I will let it, because I care about doing a job – any job – well, and because it’s the one part of my life that feels like it’s going well and where I feel like I’m in control. And I could all too easily get addicted to the money I make (it's pretty nice) and the lifestyle and "things" it can buy me – none of which I actually need to make me happy. And none of which WILL make me happy, if I keep shutting off the rest of myself.

I miss the Carol who was willing to try new things, go to new places, meet new people. The Carol who would say “Oh, what the hell” when a friend called her up at midnight to go dancing, instead of worrying about getting enough sleep for work the next day. Who could live happily with just a backpack and a few dollars in her wallet. Who would risk her body to find out her physical limits, to accept the aching muscles later for the glory of crossing the finish line or making it down that ski run. Who would risk her heart and the pain it might later feel, for the chance to connect with a new friend or fall in love.

So I’m stepping out of my usual life for a little while. And going on the road. Somewhere along the way, I will find that Carol again.